CHAPTER XII — ISAAC STAIN APPEARS BY NIGHT
Whirling, he made out the lank shadow of a man leaning against a tree close by.
"Good evening," he muttered in some confusion, conscious of a sense of guilt in being caught in the act of spying.
"I've been follerin' you fer quite a ways," observed the unknown. "Guess you don't remember me. My name is Stain, Isaac Stain."
"I remember you quite well," said Kenneth, stiffly. "May I inquire why you have been following me, Mr. Stain?"
"Well, I jest didn't know of anybody else I could come to about a certain matter. It has to do with that feller, Lapelle, up yander in Trentman's place. Fust, I went up to Mrs. Gwyn's house, but it was all dark, an' nobody to home 'cept that dog o' her'n. He knowed me er else he'd have jumped me. I guess we'd better mosey away from this place. A good many trees have ears, you know."
They walked off together in the direction of town. Stain was silent until they had put a hundred paces or more between them and the grove.
"Seems that Violy is right smart taken with this Lapelle feller," he observed. "Well, I thought I'd oughter tell her ma what I heerd about him to-day. Course, everybody's heerd queer things about him, but this beats anything I've come acrosst yet. Martin Hawk's daughter, Moll, come hoofin' it up to my cabin this mornin' an' told me the derndest story you've ever heerd. She came to me, she sez, on account of me bein' an old friend of Rachel's, an' she claims to be a decent, honest girl in spite of what her dodgasted father is. Everybody believes Mart is a hoss thief an' sheep-stealer an' all that, but he hain't ever been caught at it. He's purty thick with Barry Lapelle. Moll Hawk sez her dad'll kill her if he ever finds out she come to me with this story. Seems that Barry an' Violy are calculatin' on gettin' married an' the old woman objects. Some time this past week, Violy told Barry she wouldn't marry him anywheres 'cept in her own mother's house. Well, from what Moll sez, Barry has got other idees about it."