less, his nostrils flaring as if he breathed acid. He was struck rigid by the news, a cold, deep fury in him that seemed to clog his blood.
"It's a fact, to the shame and disgrace of this town. She's fired, turned out like she was a strumpet in the street, and her the cleanest, purest little flower that ever kissed the wind."
"I've brought that on her! It was a woeful day, Uncle Boley, that I ever struck this town!"
"You ain't to blame, Texas; I know you're clean."
"But what will she think about me, sir?"
"I was to blame, more than either of you two—I sent you off together to pick them flow's. Stroud—he's at the bottom of it—he's been tryin' to marry Sallie two or three years, and him old enough to be her daddy twice."
"We saw the scoun'rel; he slunk away before we could speak to him, right at the schoolhouse door."
"Stroud must 'a' done it for revenge on Sallie. He took it up with Henry Stott, chairman of the board, and the other two members follered Stott's lead. Stott thought firin' her on your account would make him a little soldier with the cow-men."
"Let me tell you something about Stott, sir," Texas requested, his hand earnestly on the old man's shoulder. And there he told him of his discovery the night past, of his ride to Duncan's, and
