Sandy glared at her.
"But I told ye if ye had a nuther man hangin' round I'd fix both of ye, an' I'm goin' to keep my word," he snapped back.
"Ye can't fix any one but me, Sandy, 'cause ye don't know nobody else to hurt, do ye," she interrupted him.
"It air easy fer a man like me to choke the name out of ye, brat," replied Letts, blinking his eyes at her. "I'd be likin' nothin' better."
Jake moved his big boots back and forth several times.
"I wouldn't try it if I was you, Sandy," he cautioned, "'cause ye know uther folks might be interferin' with ye."
Sandy's throat emitted a deep, doglike growl as he clambered to his feet.
"I'll do it now, dam ye both," he barked back in ugly defiance.
Jake was on his feet before Letts could take a forward step and had placed himself between the big squatter and the girl.
* * * * * That afternoon when Jake came back to see Tessibel, she threw a quick question at him.
"Air he dead, Jake?"
"Lordy, no, Tess, 'course not! He's tougher'n cow's tripe.... Sit down, brat, an' I'll tell ye about it.... Don't be shakin' so. It were like this! I was stoppin' Sandy from tryin' to git ye an' when I pushed 'im back, he kicked his own gun an' got a bullet in his big, fat leg, that air all."
"It was awful," cried Tess, wiping away her tears.
A slight smile played around Jake's lips, and showed a few of his dark teeth.
"Brat," he chuckled, "Sandy ain't done to his death by no means, an' you didn't have nothin' to do with it, nuther did I. 'Twere his own cussedness that put that bullet in his leg. There air one blessed thing, he won't be comin' round here for a long time yet botherin' you; so cheer up, an' be glad ye air a livin'."
Then Jake went away, leaving the girl and the little man in the garret, comforted and happier than they had been in many a day.