Andy Vindicated

"Wait till I get 'em," he muttered over and over, "I'll show 'em what's what."

Before he reached the lane leading past Young's place to the Skinner shack, he left the tracks and climbed the fence. Throwing his legs over the top, he sat down to enjoy the breeze which blew from the green lake, and, vibrating the leaves and bowing the shrubs and grasses, swept up and over the hill into the illimitable space beyond. Sandy wanted another drink, and reached back to his hip for it. The bottle stuck in the pocket and he jerked at it savagely. He pulled it out, but he, also, lost his balance, and in his efforts to save himself from falling, smashed the bottle on the top rail of the fence. The whiskey ran down to the ground and the thirsty moss drank it up.

Letts gazed at the jagged-edged glass in his hand, stupefied by the magnitude of his calamity. Then he drew a long breath and cursed his luck. He cursed the bottle, the fence, the whiskey, Waldstricker, who'd sent him, and Tess and the unknown man, on whose account he'd been sent. His maledictions included everything except his own drunken clumsiness.

Bye and bye, he got down from the fence, muttering and grumbling to himself. Cautiously, in spite of his inflamed temper, he worked his way through the trees. There was no sign of life about the house, but large hammocks swung in the breeze on the porch. The squatter walked around and around, keeping far enough away so his movements could not be noticed. He stopped under a large tree to look up at the windows Waldstricker had described.