A chair fell over within, followed by hurried steps.
“Who’s ther’?” shrilled a sharp voice.
“Open up!” he snapped, warily sweeping the front of the place, from corner to corner. “I want Snake!”
More steps. The door swung slowly back. Lou Brackett’s face appeared, drawn into a squinting knot.
“Send Snake out here!” he commanded.
She eyed him, unspeaking, for a long minute. Gradually her face relaxed. She came forward and stood on the door-stone. Her right hand was gripping a heavy flatiron.
“Snake, he ain’t here.”
“Where is he? I want him.”
“I dunno wher’ he’s at. He went out ’while ago—never said one word to me after he got up, ’cept tellin’ me to git more cawffee. What’s pesterin’ ye? Wha’ for d’ye come a-kickin’ into the door——”
“Nat Oaks here?”