"Wal, Ellen, you remind me of what I was wantin' to tell you when you just got here.... Yestiddy I heerd you called thet name in a barroom. An' thar was a fellar thar who raised hell. He near killed one man an' made another plumb eat his words. An' he scared thet crowd stiff."
Old John Sprague shook his grizzled head and laughed, beaming upon Ellen as if the memory of what he had seen had warmed his heart.
"Was it--y'u?" asked Ellen, tremulously.
"Me? Aw, I wasn't nowhere. Ellen, this fellar was quick as a cat in his actions an' his words was like lightnin'.'
"Who? she whispered.
"Wal, no one else but a stranger jest come to these parts--an Isbel, too. Jean Isbel."
"Oh!" exclaimed Ellen, faintly.
"In a barroom full of men--almost all of them in sympathy with the sheep crowd--most of them on the Jorth side--this Jean Isbel resented an insult to Ellen Jorth."
"No!" cried Ellen. Something terrible was happening to her mind or her heart.
"Wal, he sure did," replied the old man, "an' it's goin' to be good fer you to hear all about it."