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had a fist fight and one was whipped, then for the loser to resort to an ambush was dishonourable. Therefore, the village thought that Peck had done Tug a wrong.

On the other hand, every native of Irontown firmly believed that Tug Beavers's catastrophe was a direct dispensation of Providence brought on by Tug's refusal to go to the mourners' bench during the revival. Everyone had seen how stiff-necked the teamster was, and had heard the minister predict his downfall.

An old hillman in the butcher shop elucidated this mystery. God had used the criminal intentions of Peck to bring retribution on Tug. He had played one sinner off against the other. This was to the hill people's kidney. They could worship a deity like that, a celestial trickster, a kind of Railroad Jones of Heaven.

Mrs. Roxie Biggers, hurrying down the street from the banker's house, met Abner Teeftallow and stopped him with a sharp gesture. The two had come to know each other fairly well during Tug's sickness. Now something in Mrs. Biggers's manner alarmed the teamster. A fear shot through him and he asked in a constrained voice, "Miss Roxie—is he dead?"

"No, he ain't dead, he talked to me a little while ago." A quiver of wrath moved the old woman's high thin nostrils.

Abner was relieved that Tug was alive, but immediately was apprehensive as to what his friend had done to irritate Mrs. Biggers. It was quite within probabilities that he had sworn at the old woman and had offended the whole family.

"Wh-what did he say?" asked Abner, expecting the worst report.

"Why, I was talkin' to him about his soul!" snapped Mrs. Roxie.

"Y-yes," stammered Abner, who perceived that his worst anticipations had been realized.

"An' we've all misjudged Mr. Beavers; we've misjudged him bad, Abner!"