with an ancient log cabin squatted among the balsams. There they halted and Harris sounded his horn until its hoarse voice startled birds in the forest.
Inside the cabin, a stirring, a shuffling step, and Charley Stump appeared in the doorway.
"Hello, Charley."
"Hello," falteringly. "Who are ye?"
"It's me, Jim Harris. We come out to have a talk." He chuckled. "We want to settle, Charley!"
The old man's face showed indecision. He was not sure whether to be flattered or frightened, but the two visitors entered the house with so much good nature that he was put at ease.
The three sat down in the foul smelling room and talked for long, quite earnestly, in low voices, and now and then Rowe or Harris went to the doorway and looked out.
Charley stood beside the car when Harris started the motor.
"An' when it's all over will you give me a set of tires for my safety, too, Jim?"
"Tires? You bet, Charley!"
Both men laughed.
The second day after Rowe's visit to her house, a letter mailed from Pancake came to Helen. It read:
"You will do well to clear out of this county. We have stood for your ways long enough and do not want you for a neighbor at any price. If you do not go of your own will, things will happen which will make you clear out anyhow.—Citizens' Committee."
With an impatient exclamation she tore the sheet in half, but arrested the gesture to throw it into the waste
