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CHAPTER XVIII THE METTLE OF THE BREED Billy, who was thinking hard, looked up at this. "But," he said sternly, "you said, only a few minutes ago, that you were done forever with whisky." "Course we got real scared then—leastwise Johnston thought we was—an' Jim he ups an' tells him that we fergot to latch the gate an' let the horse out. Then Johnston got real mean—meaner than I ever see him get, an' that's sayin' quite a lot. He said he would turn back with us an' interview—that's the word he used, whatever it means—interview our fathers..

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"Sure there might but I guess all we kin do is take our chance with 'em." A light step sounded on the gravel; the door opened and Erie entered. She was dressed in white. The damp bay-breeze had kissed the golden hair to shimmering life but there were shadows beneath the violet eyes, a dreary pathos about the unsmiling mouth. "Daddy," she cried, running over to kneel beside him. "It was selfish of me to leave you alone." "Eh? What's that?" Mr. Johnston fairly recoiled in surprise and indignation at the affront to his dignity. "Silence! boys and girls," he shouted, as a titter ran through the schoolroom..