hardness of accusation or censure, as if to say he had failed in her expectations of him in not standing up under it like a man.
"It isn't so much a question of right as of values," he said, looking up gravely, water streaming from his face.
This was puzzling to her, and vexing because she did not understand. She flushed, frowning her displeasure.
"Did you know any of them? Was Hewitt there?"
"No, Hewitt wasn't with them, but I thought I recognized the man we had trouble with that day at the fence."
"Yes, he was apt to have a hand in it. Were you in the house when they came?"
"I'd been on the watch for them two, nights, outside. I must have dozed off—they were at their devilment when I first saw them."
Rawlins pulled a deep sigh, shaking his head sorrowfully, the weight of his tragedy still pressing him down, making his senses blunt.
"They came huntin' trouble," she repeated, "they got what was comin' to them. You act like you're sorry."
"It's an awful thing to kill a man over an outcast chunk of ground like this!" he said.
"I don't suppose they tried to kill you, I don't suppose they even took a quiet little shot or two at you to scare you off!"
"He was going to burn the house, he'd just struck a match when I—he'd just struck a match."
"What did you want to spoil his innocent little joke
