You got it comin', damn you, an' you know it.

Come here, I say!" As if it were beyond his power to refuse, the wretched creature took a halting step or two toward the man whose brutal will dominated him; then he paused and half turned, as if to attempt escape.

But that menacing voice stopped him.
"Come here!" Whimpering and begging, with disconnected, unintelligible words, the poor fellow again started toward the man with the quirt.
At the critical moment a quiet, well-schooled voice interrupted the scene.
"I beg your pardon, Mr.Cambert!" Nick whirled with an oath of surprise and astonishment, to face Patches, who was coming leisurely toward him from the bushes above the spring.
"What are you doin' here ?" demanded Nick, while his victim slunk back to his horse, his eyes fixed upon the intruder with dumb amazement.
"I came for a drink," returned Patches coolly.

"Excellent water, isn't it?
And the day is really quite warm--makes one appreciate such a delightfully cool retreat, don't you think ?" "Heard us comin' an' thought you'd play the spy, did you ?" growled the Tailholt Mountain man.
Patches smiled.

"Really, you know, I am afraid I didn't think much about it," he said gently.