“I reckon I'm sorter upset,” the farmer said, half apologetically, as they walked on. “I reckon it was my talk with Jeff Wade about his sister that got me started. That's mighty nigh broke him all to pieces, Nelson.”
“So you met Wade!” Floyd said, quickly. “I thought perhaps you stopped him.”
“You thought I did? What made you think I did?”
“Why, when I'd waited till about one o'clock,” Floyd replied, “I started out to Wade's, and—”
“You say you started out thar?”
“Yes, I knew he meant business, and I wanted it settled, one way or the other, so that I could go back to work, or—”
“Or turn yore toes to the sky, you fool!”
“I started to say,” Floyd went on, “that I knew something had interfered with his coming, and—”
“He'd 'a' shot seventeen holes in you or 'a' put seventeen balls in one!” Pole cried, in high disgust. “I finally fixed him all right, but he wasn't in no frame o' mind to have you come to his house an' rub it in on 'im. However, you hain't told me what made you think I stopped 'im.”
“Why,” said Floyd, “just as I was starting away from the spring, Mel Jones came running down the hill. He'd been hiding behind a big rock up there to see the affair, and was awfully disappointed. He begged me to wait a little longer, and said he was sure Jeff would come on. Then he told me he saw you in the road near Wade's house, and I understood the whole thing. I guess I owe my life to you, Pole. It isn't worth much, but I'm glad to have it, and I'd rather owe you for it than any one I know. What did you say to Wade?”