“Well,” she said at last, “what do _you_ want?”
The Lizard’s wide-mouthed, leering grin was not in the least reassuring.
“I knowed ye’d be a-comin’ along directly,” he said, “an’ ’lowed we’d ride t’gether.”
“But what if I do not care to ride with you?” she returned curiously.
“Oh, that ain’t a-botherin’ me none. I ain’t noways thin-skinned,” he returned, reining his horse aside from the trail to make room for her. “Come along--ye might as well be sociable like. I know I can’t make much of a-showin’ in eddication an’ fine school talk like you been used to, but I’m jist as good as that lunger Saint Jimmy, er that there fancy neighbor of yourn any day.”
Something in the fellow’s face, or some quality in his tone, brought the blood to Marta’s cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said curtly, “but I prefer to ride alone.”
She lifted the bridle rein and Nugget started forward.
But the Lizard again pulled his mount across the trail and the man’s ratlike face was twisted now, with sudden rage.
“Oh, you do, do you? Wall, let me tell you I’ve stood all I’m a-goin’ t’ stand on your account to-day.”
“Why, what do you mean?” she demanded, amazed.
“Never you mind what I mean, my lady. You jist listen to what I got t’ say. You’ve been a-playin’ th’ high an’ mighty with me long enough. D’ ye think I don’t know what you are? D’ ye think I don’t know all about your carryin’ on. My Gawd a’mighty, hit’s a disgrace t’ any decent neighborhood. A pretty one you are t’ be a-puttin’ on airs with me. Why, you poor little fool, everybody knows what you are. Who’s yer father? Who’s yer mother? Decent people has got decent folks, an’ you--you ain’t got none. You ain’t even got a name of yer own--Hillgrove--two fathers. Yer jist low-down trash an’ nobody that’s decent won’t have nothin’ t’ do with you. You prefer t’ ride alone, do you? All right, my fine lady, you needn’t worry none, you’re goin’ t’ ride alone all right. I wouldn’t be seen within a mile of you.”
With the last brutal word, he whirled his horse about and set off down the trail as fast as the animal could run.
The girl, with her head bowed low over the saddlehorn, sat very still. Her trembling fingers nervously twisted a lock of Nugget’s mane. Here was confirmation, indeed, of all the doubts and fears to which she had been led by her own painful thoughts. Here was the answer to all her questions. Here at last was the explanation of those emotions which were to her so new and strange.