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Melissy, sitting on the porch with her foot resting on a second chair, knew a slight quickening of the blood as she watched him approach. "Good evenin', Miss M'lissy," he cried, sweeping his sombrero as low as the stirrup. "Buenos tardes, Señor Norris," she flung back gayly. Sitting at ease in the saddle, he leisurely looked her over with eyes that smoldered behind half-shuttered lids.
They wus drinkin', and when 't wus all fixed up that 't wus to be at the mouth of the Box Cañon they done tore an old black shirt you got for a dust-rag and made masks out of it and then rode away." "Which way did they go?" "Tow'ds the Box Cañon Miss M'lissy."
"I dunno about that, M'lissy," he said, shutting one eye and squinting across the valley sagaciously. "The Soopreme Court of the State of Californy said he didn't, an' yer maw says he did, with regards to the cañon, that is. The land, well, she deeded him the land, but he sort o' had the snap on her when she done it.
"'Llo, M'lissy," he said, as kindly as was compatible with a rusty bit of wire between his teeth. The girl leaned against the shaded side of a stack of baled barley hay. "Lysander," she began quaveringly, "Lysander, if you'd seen paw shot, an' knowed all about it, could they make you tell would you think you'd ought to tell?"
"No, Ah don' allow she'd say much. The way hit is, ye see, M'lissy, hit's foolish 'f her, but M'lissy kinder thinks Ah ain' a right bad feller, an' Ah sorter hate to disabuse her min' o' that opinion." "She mus' know you-all drinks." "Yes, Ah 'low she do." "An' ye play craps." "Oh, well, that ain' anythin'." "An' ye fight chickens." "Of co'se; everybody does that."
She leaned on her hoe and looked up the cañon, where the blue of the distant mountains showed soft and smoky among the branches of the sycamores. "M'lissy!" Lysander called from the lower end of the row of orange-trees, "hain't the ditch broke som'ers, or the water got into a gopher-hole? There ain't no head to speak of." The girl turned quickly and looked about her.
She's goin' to stay there and wait, if it's forever. She's got too good a thing. Jest as like 's not, M'lissy Busteed, or some other gab machine like her, 'll be the next one to call, and if they see that great black critter! Oh! my soul!" "Black!" said Ralph amazedly. "Why, the woman at your house isn't black. She's as white as I am, and not bad-looking for a woman of her age."
"I'll come back an' set here when I've took off my shoes. You kin go on. I'll come in a minute." Lysander looked into her face an instant as he started. "The seam o' yer stockin' 's got over the j'int, M'lissy," he said kindly; "it's made you sick at yer stummick; y'r as white as taller." Old Withrow entered his own house with dignity at last.
"I hain't seen much good come of it," confessed the man reluctantly; "but it's human to talk, it's human, M'lissy. Some folks find it relievin', an' it don't do any harm." The young girl did not assent. Deep down in her placid, peace-loving nature was the obstinate conviction that it did a great deal of harm. She sat down in the velvety burr-clover, clasping her hands about her knees.
"They ain't a-goin' to hang nobody, M'lissy," said Lysander confidently, "hangin' has gone out o' fashion. And I don't think it's becomin' fer the fam'ly to interfere, especially the women folks; besides, we don't none of us know nothin' about it, you see. Don't you fret about things you don't know nothin' about. The law'll have to take its course, M'lissy.
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