didn't hear... oh, there's nothing in it if you
didn't. I heard that Simmons had had you taken
off the stage. Did you have trouble with Buckley,
cut him with a whip? Buck has been blowing
about showing you a thing or two."

A feeling of angry dismay enveloped Gordon.
He had recognized, obscurely, that Simmons and old
man Hollidew dominated the community, but he had
never before come in actual contact with their arbitrary
power, he had never before been faced by the
overmastering weapon of their material possessions,
the sheer weight of their wealth. It stirred him to
revolt, elemental and bitter; every instinct rose
against the despotic power which threatened to overwhelm
him.

"By God!" he exclaimed, "but they will find that
I'm no sheep to drive into their lot and shear!"

"Now, about Clare," the doctor interposed.

"When will you come for her?" Gordon inquired.
He took from his pocket the roll of money he had
won at Sprucesap, and counted two hundred dollars,
which he tended to the doctor.

"Tomorrow, about seven. Everything will be
done for her, Gordon. I reckon that's only an
empty splash about the stage."

The dusk had thickened in Clare's room; he could
scarcely distinguish her face white against the darkened
squares of the quilt. "Whoever will get your

[[75]]

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v?