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88 about her—the girl. He 's down there ever since, holdin' a reg'lar devil's wake over 'im—it—there. An' drunk! Lord! But he don't lose his legs, nor his head; the drink jus' sharpens 'im. Well, he 'll git 'em all drinkin',—likely he's started that by now. Then he'll bring his gang up over here; it's you he's gunnin' for, but I won't answer for what 'll happen at Powell's, when they git started. It 'll be a pretty crowd. An' here's you an' me, an' old man Kellum,—an' p'raps Benny,—an' for a long guess Sebattis,—'cause Beaky was always cuffin' 'im round,—if he don't git drunk first. 'T won't do. 'T ain't enough of us. He 'll git fifteen or twenty,—the devil's rinsin's they are, too."

"I 'll go down and see him," said Archer. "That 'll keep them away from the house. I'm not afraid of him, I hope." And he told briefly of the encounter by the fire. "He did n't seem so terrible."

"That may all very well be—for last night," declared Peter, his blue eyes alight with keen thought. "He's rotten, an' a brute, but you must remember the' was