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"Children—Nada, Or'na dear—I want you—here——"

He gestured boldly, forgot what he meant to say, paused with bearded mouth a-droop, waiting for the next word to come through, and it did not come.

After a moment's hesitation he blurted desperately: "He's done more for you than your old daddy's ever done——"

This made the children open their eyes a little wider in distrust, for there are few things that childhood resents so much as a rival to one that is loved.

"No matter what we ever do, we ain't begun to pay him back——"

It was painfully like a hopeless, dreary debt that would follow one down to the grave, and old Combe's voice was pitched to melancholic shrillness.

Brundage smiled that hard, lined smile of his, eyeing Combe.

"We wouldn't ha' had no house 'r home but for him, an'——"

Williams showed something very like a trace of discomfort. He shifted his feet slightly, raised a hand no higher than his shoulder, and, glaring with disconcerting severity, said in an abrupt, unchallengeable way: "Combe, I'm leaving for the bay and need another horse."