"To what?" asked Tabitha, as her companion stammered in confusion and paused abruptly.
"To gain anything—much of anything by trying to force Billiard into being good."
"How are we to make him mind, then? He won't coax. You can't flatter him into behaving himself, and threats don't do a mite of good. I think a smart dose of the hickory stick would be the most effective medicine for such cases as his."
Glory looked dubious.
"You don't agree with me?" suggested Tabitha.
"He is such a big boy to be thrashed," she evaded.
"He is such a big boy to act that way!"
"Yes, that's true, but——"
How she would have finished her sentence Tabitha never found out, for at that moment a piercing scream broke the stillness of the desert afternoon, followed by a medley of excited accusations, denials, threats, and Billiard's taunting laugh. Tabitha flew to the rescue of her brood and found Irene stretched full length in the gravel, with Mercedes and Toady deluging her with water, while the rest of the sisters danced frantically about the trio.
"He—he shot her!" cried Rosslyn indignantly, at sight of the slender figure in the doorway.