object of amusement. If you could only forget entirely the groundless nonsense we talked of her, I would take it as a favor; but I suppose that is too much to ask?"

"Yes," agreed Miss Floyd, when they had parted from the others and were riding out over the "glade” road— "yes, I am afraid it is, my memory is so good; and this affair is really unique. I was just hearing the loveliest, most improbably virtuous things of you this morning, and then, like a plunge into an ice-bath, I stumbled on the fact that your trysts in the wood with an imaginary Daphne are really kept with a most interesting mother of a family. Oh, Don! Don!"

CHAPTER IX.

LAW AT LE FEVRE'S.

Through the shifting mists of the mountain waving to and fro in the night-wind, two figures loomed up vaguely— moving bulks of darkness, crossing now and then the stationary darkness of the trees; two men, whose heavy breathing told of a long or rapid walk in the warm night. At last one of them, with an impatient expletive, dropped down on a log that offered a seat and hid its remaining length in the shadows.

"I'm beat out," he acknowledged; " and I ain't a going to keep up this sort of canter the whole trip. What the devil you made up of, Bud? I hain't never seen you tired once."

"She wants you home," reminded the deeper, mellower voice; we haven't time to rest here."

"She always is wantin' something," was the peevish answer; "and she's too darned skeery 'bout Edie. She

always is in a stew if the young one's ailin' a bit; an' all young ones have their ailin's, mostly."

"I reckon. Come on."

"Go along; I'll ketch up."

"You'll come now; " and the tired pedestrian arose goodnaturedly at the command in the tone.

"All right, if yeh don't walk so infernal fast. How'd yeh happen to find me?

"Ike Dumphey said he'd seen you at the settlement. Then I heard them tell of your trouble at the coal-works; so I tracked you. That man you cut will make you trouble."

“Naw; I allow not," was the complacent reply. "Settlement folks ain't over-anxious to follow up into the mountain; there's too many places to get lost."

"Revenue men, may be, won't be so scared."

Mr. Le Fevre, for it was he, halted as if at the challenge of a sentry.

"What you drivin' at?" he demanded.

"You needn't try to pretend with me, Dick," said the other, gravely; " and don't act lies-it'll be the worse for you some day. You've been trading liquor down there at the settlement, but it's been made up here on the mountain. You're making a road for trouble to walk over; and that man you quarreled with has spread the word he'll inform on you, and do it right away."

"Damn him!" said Mr. Le Fevre, fervently. "That's the way with the cursed settlement folks; first thing they turn to is to tattle if you do them any hurt. Well, I guess they ain't on our tracks yet, anyway;" and he checked his steps a moment. "No, I don't hear any hosses;" and he laughed at the idea of horses following, for they were on a short cut over ledges where no horse could walk.

"That proves no safety; they'd take the road for it.”

*And get there ahead of us," suggested the suspected moonshiner, jocularly, evidently with little idea of any "settlement" folks venturing into the night of the mount"I reckon you'd fight with me, Bud?"

ain.

"No, I think not," was the unhesitating response. "I wouldn't let you get hurt if I could help it, but I'd try just as much to keep you from doing hurt to any other man." "You're a hell of a friend!" decided Mr. Le Fevre, ironically.

“I never said I was your friend," answered the man ahead, unconcernedly. "If you want friends—the right sort-you've got to live different."

"What's the matter with your livin', an' how many friends you got?" And with this retort silence fell over their path; and without further words the crown of the last hill was reached, one of the downward steps of the mountain, and deep into its bosom cut the gulch of Indian Ledge.

The deep bellows of the curs and half-hounds gave warning of their coming, and the light from within streamed through the quickly opened door, outlining as it did so two horses tied to an apple-tree near the door.

'Strangers!" whispered Dick, stepping back into the "You're never in danger; go in."

shadow.

But the other stepped to the heads of the horses.

"It's Mr. Edson's horse, and I think Dr. Nesbit's; you had better come in."

"Who is there?" demanded the shrill voice of Granny in the door-way. "You, Dick! that you?"

"Yes, I found him;" and Bud walked past her into the house and to the bed in the corner, where the young mother bent over a tiny form.

"Better?" he said, laying his hand on her shoulder for an instant; and she turned a radiant face up to him.

"Yes, yes," she breathed; "she is just asleep now. Mr. Edson, he brought the doctor-oh, Bud!"

For at the touch of his well-known sympathetic hand the self-control that had been kept before the strangers melted away in a burst of glad tears, and leaning her head on the pillow, she cried quietly; and with a long, curious look at her, he turned away, attempting no word of comfort. She did not raise her head when her husband entered. His maternal relative had given him the news before he came in, for he asked no questions, only remarked, “I reckoned you was more scared about her than was needed." But he thanked Don for taking a twenty-mile ride on their account, and confessed to being infernally hungry, suggesting that the strangers would wait and have supper with him; an invitation that was declined, as the physician had already agreed to spend the night with Mr. Edson, and they had only waited to see the effect of certain medicines before leaving.

Each spoke what kindly, hopeful words they could to Krin, and bidding good-night to the others, started for their horses. Granny paid no attention to them whatever; the mere presence of a "regular" vender of cures was a slight on her own medical knowledge, and their visit had not been a social success. She was trying, in a tone but slightly modulated, to impress the Pagan with her own opinion of (condemned) quacks; but he, after a brief recognition of Don, had sat silent, leaning his head on his hand, looking, as they thought, too utterly tired for notice of the surroundings.

But he was not too oblivious to follow them to the door, stopping Don with a gesture, and holding out his hand.

"You sent me a thing that takes half the weight of a curse off my mind," he said, in a halting, labored sort of way, as one does a difficult thing under compulsion. "I never

shook hands with you, but you've helped take a load off another mind here this night; and if your willing-"

The proffered hand finished the sentence, and the younger man clasped it with frank earnestness.

"You mean the book?" he said, with a smile.

"That's

all right; glad I happened on it. Don't be so quick shouldering curses till you know what they're intended for after this; you're equal to Moses himself in hustling around for them;" and with this half-laughing reference to their former conversation, he turned again to follow the doctor, who seemed to realize more keenly than the young landlord that he was in a disreputable corner of the world, and had no idea of lingering.

The innumerable canines had again commenced to make night musical, barking ferociously, and Grandam Le Fevre pricked up her ears alertly at a peculiar tone from one of her force of watchmen.

"Strangers about," she said, with keen laconicism, pausing on her way to the table with a plate of bread and meat for the use of her grandson.

"You're late makin' the discovery," was the ironical response of that worthy. "They're jest leavin'."

""Tain't them; it's new ones. Yes, 'tis-hark to Bach!" Without a word, Dick reached for his gun, and from the table drawer thrust a box of cartridges into his pocket. Bud's eyes had evidently been keen as the old lady's ears, for he turned suddenly and laid his hand on the gun.

"No use to fight against the law, ef it is the law," he said, warningly; "it's like to be bad for you in the end, Dick. Take care!

At the same instant the light gleamed on something in the hand of a figure that rose up from the corner of the pig-pen.

"Hi, you! there in the door, stop jest where you are!"