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“I’ve always thought,” said Lysander, resuming his work and his narrative with equal deliberation, “that there was a good deal missed by yer maw bein’ took down with inflammatory rheumatiz jest about the time o’ the trial o’ that lawsuit. I dunno as it would ‘a’ made much difference in the end, but it would ‘a’ made consider’ble as it went along, and I think she’d ‘a’ rested easier if she’d ‘a’ had her say. Of course they come up an’ took down her testimony in writin’; but it was shorthand, an’ yer maw don’t speak shorthand fer common. Well, of course, the old Colonel got away with the jury, and then yer maw found out that he’d bought the mortgage; an’ about the time it was due he come up here, as smooth as butter, an’ offered to give her this little patch o’ boulders an’ let her move the house onto it, an’ give her share ‘nough in the canon to irrigate it, if she’d deed him the rest o’ the land, an’ save him the trouble o’ foreclosin’. So she done it. But I don’t think he enj’yed his visit, all the same. She wasn’t sparin’ o’ her remarks to ‘im, an’ I think some o’ ’em must ‘a’ hurt his feelin’s, fer he hain’t been here sence.” Lysander chuckled with reminiscent relish.

Melissa had walked around the sled, and stood facing him, with her hands behind her. Her slight figure in its limp blue cotton drapery had the scarred mountain-side for a background.

“I don’t see yet as he done anything so awful mean,” she protested leniently.

“Ner do I, M’lissy,” acquiesced her brother-in-law. “But after the hull thing was signed, sealed, and delivered,”–Lysander rested from his labors again on the strength of these highly legal expressions,–“after it was closed up, so to speak, it came to yer maw’s ears, in some way, that there was a mistake in the drawin’ of that mortgage, an’ this land was left out of it, an’ would ‘a’ been hern anyway; and somehow that thing has stuck in her craw all these years, and sort o’ soured her.”

Melissa mused on the problem, wide-eyed and grave. The mule seemed to await her verdict with humble resignation. Lysander sat on the side of the sled and looked across the valley seaward, to where Catalina was outlined against the horizon in soft, cloud-like gray.

“An’ it was a mistake? she meant to put it in the mortgage?” queried the girl.

“Yes, she meant to, so far as a person can be said to mean anything when they’re a-mortgagin’ their homestead; usually they’re out o’ their heads. But the law don’t take no ‘count o’ that kind o’ craziness. You can do the foolest things, M’lissy, without the court seein’ a crack in your brain; but if you happen to get mad an’ put a bullet through some good-fer-nothin’ loafer, then immedjitly yer insane. That’s the law, M’lissy.”

Melissa received this exposition of her country’s code with wondering, luminous eyes. It had a wild, unreasonable sound which was a sufficient guarantee of its correctness. The doings of authorities were liable to be misty by reason of elevation. The fault lay in her limited vision.

“I s’pose the law’s right. An’ the law said the canon didn’t belong to mother. I think that ought to ‘a’ settled it. I don’t see any good in it all,–this talkin’ so loud, an’ scoldin’, an’ callin’ people names. Do you, Sandy?”

“I hain’t seen much good come of it,” confessed the man reluctantly; “but it’s human to talk,–it’s human, M’lissy. Some folks find it relievin’, an’ it don’t do any harm.”

The young girl did not assent. Deep down in her placid, peace-loving nature was the obstinate conviction that it did a great deal of harm. She sat down in the velvety burr-clover, clasping her hands about her knees.

“Is Flutterwheel Spring more ‘n mother’s share o’ the canon?” she inquired.