"

Nan and Ingua came over to dinner that evening and Josie was very
cordial to Ingua's mother, who treated her chief's daughter with the
utmost friendliness. Both Ingua and Mary Louise were surprised by their
politeness and comradeship, but neither of the principals was deceived
by such a display. Each was on her guard, but realized it was wise to
appear friendly.

Monday night Josie lurked in the shadows of the river bank until
daybreak, never relaxing her espionage of the Cragg house for a moment.
All was quiet, however.

Tuesday passed without event. Tuesday night Josie was at her post
again, her eyes fixed on the dim light that shone from Mr. Cragg's
room. Had she been able to see through the walls of the cottage she
would have found the old man seated in his private apartment opposite
his daughter. Could she have heard their conversation--the low,
continuous hum of Old Swallowtail's voice, broken only by an occasional
question from Nan--she would surely have been astonished. Nan was not
much astonished, save at the fact that her father had at last
voluntarily confided to her the strange story of his life, a life
hitherto unknown to her. She was not easily surprised, but she was
greatly impressed, and when he finally rose from his chair and went out
into the night Nan sat in meditation for some time before she followed
him. Ingua had long been asleep.

Josie, lurking outside, had not expected Old Swallowtail to leave the
premises unless he planned to run away. His delivery of counterfeit
money to Ned Joselyn had been of too recent a date to render it
necessary that he revisit his stone-yard for some time to come, she
argued; yet to-night, at a little after eleven o'clock, she saw his
shadow pass from the house and take the path to the bridge.

Josie followed. At the bridge Mr. Cragg turned westward and at once she
surmised he was bound for his rocky five acres. The old man walked
deliberately, never thinking to look behind him. He might not have
observed anything suspicious had he turned, but a hundred feet behind
him came Josie O'Gorman, deftly dodging from tree to bush to keep in
the dark places by the wayside. And behind Josie silently moved a
little man in gray homespun, whose form it would be difficult to
distinguish even while he stood in the open. Josie, like the prey she
stalked, was too occupied to look behind.

Old Swallowtail reached the stone-yard and climbed the fence. While he
paused there Jos