Sandy, rage working alive in his eyes, tried to obey the churchman. But the girl took another step away.
"Gimme yer hand," growled Sandy.
All he wanted was to get the squatter girl into his possession. He had not forgotten the threats he had made in other days, and in another hour, he would wring from her the name he wanted.
"No," said Tess again.
"You mean you're not going to marry Mr. Letts?" asked Griggs.
Tessibel caught her breath, swayed, but shook her head.
"No, I ain't goin' to marry 'im," she answered.
Marry Sandy Letts, a man she hated! Of course she couldn't!... She was already married. She couldn't commit such a sin as that, not even if--if--She turned a little and glanced in the direction of Frederick, but dropped her eyes before they found him.
Waldstricker grew intense with suspense, and a sudden determination to test his and Madelene's suspicions came over him.
"Frederick," he cried, "come here and help us force this huzzy to marry the man who betrayed her!"
Frederick rose from his chair as though to obey, and in turning, looked squarely into the girl's eyes.
"My God, Eb, I can't!" he protested, his voice thick with horror. "Let her go, Eb! For God's sake, man, you can't marry her against her will!
Let her go!"
He sank down, and rested his head on his arms upon the chair back, his shoulders shaking violently.
The minister came to Tessibel's side. He placed a pitying hand on her head, facing his elders.
"Let her go home, brethren," he entreated. "You can't make her do this thing if she refuses, and the ... business can go on without her."
"She's a wicked girl," snorted Ebenezer, with a bitter twist of his lips.
"I say to let her go," repeated Griggs.
"And I say she shall be punished," Waldstricker glared from the minister to the elders and then rested his gaze on Frederick, who was by this time sobbing in great gulps.
Pastor Griggs considered his parishioner's angry face. Griggs was young and stood in awe of some members of his flock--Waldstricker most of all, but the sight of the girl in such anguish overcame his timidity, and he cried:
"Let him that is without sin among you first cast a stone at her."
Tessibel sank sobbing to the floor, and her pastor stood by her side, hand uplifted, waiting.
Then over Ebenezer's countenance flashed a look of self-righteous fanaticism, which made large the pupils of his dark eyes and inflamed his swarthy skin deepest crimson. He strode to the stove, picked from the scuttle a ragged chunk of coal, and when he turned again, he had changed from red to white. Crazed, he took two steps toward the kneeling girl.
"I can cast the first stone," he said swiftly.
He lifted his arm and before any man could stay his hand, something whirled through the intervening space and struck the kneeling squatter girl. High pandemonium broke loose. Voices, some censorious, some approving, contended.
"I have first cast a stone at her," cried Waldstricker, above the din.
"Let others follow if they dare!"
Tessibel crouched lower to the floor, a bleeding wound in her neck. She had made no outcry when the missile met and lacerated her flesh. Dully, she wondered if they intended to kill her, and for a moment a sickening dread took possession of her when she thought of Daddy and Andy. She was growing faint and dizzy, but struggled to her feet as Griggs took her arm. He led her through the Chapel aisle, pushing aside the other men.
At the door, Tess caught one glimpse of Sandy Letts' dark, passionate face.
"Go home," the minister said hoarsely; "and may God forgive us all."
How Tessibel found her way home, she could never afterwards tell. Spent by the struggle with the storm, she staggered into the shanty. It took almost the last atom of her strength to close the door against the howling blizzard. Leaning against the wall, she looked up and saw Andy staring at her from the hole in ceiling, his fingers on his lips.
"It were awful cold under the bed," he told her. "Yer Daddy air asleep, so I came up here to keep warm!"
When he noticed the girl's unusual appearance, he scurried down the ladder, waddled across the kitchen, and stood in front of his friend.
"What air the matter, brat?" he quivered.
Solicitous, he helped her into a chair near the fire and took off her hat and coat. The blood from the neck wound had made crimson blotches on her white waist.
"Ye're hurt, honey," he cried, alarmed. "How'd it happen?"
"I air hurt a little," said she, faintly. "Fetch me some water, dear, an' don't--don't tell Daddy!"
"Get on the cot, kid," said he, "an' I'll put up the bar."
In another moment he was leaning over her. He brushed back the tousled hair from the girl's forehead, and pulled away the long curls seeped with blood.
"I air yer friend, brat," he whispered. "Tell me 'bout it."
Tessibel had to confide in somebody.
"I'll get a rag first an' wipe ye off," said the dwarf. "My, but ye did get a cut, didn't ye?... What did it?"
Gently he began to wash away the crimson stain from her face and neck.
"Somebody hit ye?" he demanded presently.
"Yep."
"Who?... Who dared do it?" The dwarf's face darkened with rage. "Where were the brute that done it?"
"Andy," sobbed Tess, "I air goin' to tell ye somethin'; ye may think I air awful wicked, but--but--Andy, don't tell Daddy, but in the spring I air goin' to--"
"Yep, I know, Tess," he murmured. "I heard the woman yellin' at ye the uther day way through my blankets. But 'tain't nothin' to cry over.
God'll bless ye, brat, and God'll bless--it!"
Her sobbing slowly subsided, and in halting words Tess told the dwarf the story of the afternoon's dreadful experience.
"And, Andy, it were awful. Mr. Griggs wanted to let me go home, but the uther men wouldn't, an' then the minister says like Jesus did to the men who were goin' to stone the poor woman, 'Let him that ain't a sinner throw the first stone,' an' Waldstricker picked up a great hunk o' coal and hit me with it. Do ye suppose he air so awful good an' I air so awful wicked he had a right to strike me?"