"Yep," Billy whipped his dramatic sense into action. He arose and strode before Jude with Gaston's own manner. "This way. His arms out, and him a-laughing like, and Joyce she kinder run inter his arms and he held her, like this—." The close embrace of the childish gesture seemed to strangle Jude, and he gave a muffled cry. This acted like a round of applause upon Billy.
"Yep, and he kept on hugging and kissing her like this—" Billy went into an ecstasy of portrayal. Suddenly, however, he reeled into sanity, for Jude had struck him across the cheek with the back of a hand trembling with new-born emotion.
"Take that, you impish brat," he had said, "and more like it if you stand there another minute with your lying capers."
"They ain't lies," wailed Billy, edging away and nursing his smarting face; "he did! he did! It was in his shack—I saw 'em!"
"Get out," yelled Jude, glowering darkly; "and you tell that to any one else and," he came nearer to the shrinking child, "I swear I'll choke yer till yer can't speak." So changed was Jude that Billy trembled before him.
"I won't," he whispered, "I swear I won't, Jude; don't—don't hit me again; I won't tell."
He was gone, but the old Jude was gone also. The new man finished the gun cleaning, his breath coming hard and fast meanwhile, and then, taking the gun with him, he went into the deep woods on the northern edge of the village.
All the rest of the day he watched Gaston's shack from a distance; as the darkness drew on he crept closer.
Joyce did not come near the place, and Gaston himself only returned when the night was well advanced.
Jude watched him light his lamp, and prepare his supper. Watched him, later, go into the inner room, and then he crept close to the broad window to see what Gaston was doing in there where no foot but Gaston's own, so it was said, ever entered. As he had raised his eyes to the level of the casement, Gaston's calm gaze met his with a laugh in it.