? ? ? ? Edwin Bentham was weighing dust over the bar of the saloon at the Forks- altogether too much of his dust went over that pine board- when his wife came down the hill and slipped into Clyde Wharton's cabin. Wharton was not expecting her, but that did not alter the case. And much subsequent misery and idle waiting might have been avoided, had not Father Roubeau seen this and turned aside from the main creek trail.
? ? ? ? 'My child,-'
? ? ? ? 'Hold on, Father Roubeau! Though I'm not of your faith, I respect you; but you can't come in between this woman and me!'
? ? ? ? 'You know what you are doing?'
? ? ? ? 'Know! Were you God Almighty, ready to fling me into eternal fire, I'd bank my will against yours in this matter.'
? ? ? ? Wharton had placed Grace on a stool and stood belligerently before her.
? ? ? ? 'You sit down on that chair and keep quiet,' he continued, addressing the Jesuit. 'I'll take my innings now. You can have yours after.'
? ? ? ? Father Roubeau bowed courteously and obeyed. He was an easy-going man and had learned to bide his time. Wharton pulled a stool alongside the woman's, smothering her hand in his.
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