had once described to Gallito. The
Seagreave whose mind worked with lightning rapidity, who ventured
anything, as gay and invincible he fought in the last ditch, his back to
the wall and all the odds against him.

"I've got an idea," he said. "It may not work, but it's a chance." He
bent forward and in a rapid whisper outlined his plan for them. "I
wonder," he said, "if they'd nab me if I started to go over and talk to
Hughie? Do you suppose they would permit me a word with him?"

Flick laughed. "Any number of them," he said. "If the rats they've
caught want to run around in the trap, what's that to them?"

Seagreave had no opportunity to carry out his plan just then, for Hugh
began to play and Pearl made her second appearance. The very sight of
her, their vision of spring, who seemed to have sped up from the valley
far below and transformed the dark and dreary winter, brought the house
to its feet and sent a storm of applause ringing to the rafters.

But she was spring no longer. In this dance of the seasons she was
giving them she now typified summer, splendid and glowing. Her gown was
a vivid green, spangled with gold and wreathed in roses. A festoon of
pink and crimson flowers lay about her neck, its long ends falling
almost to the foot of her frock, and her hair was crowned with roses.
And her dancing had changed. It was no longer the springtime she
portrayed, with all her plastic grace of motion, symbolizing its
delicate evanescence with arch hesitations and fugitive advances, and
all the playful joyousness of youth.

On this second appearance she was dancing the summer and dancing it with
a passionate zest and spirit, alternated with enchanting languors. When
at last she ceased it seemed as if the encores which drew her back on
the stage again and again would never end.

And the sheriff, noting this, stirred uneasily and whispered to a
grizzled companion: "I wish this was over, Lord, I do! Things don't look
quite so dead sure as they did. Gosh! She's got 'em all right in the
hollow of her hand."

"It's her you got to reckon with," returned the companion gloomily.
"This blasted long winter's got the boys right on edge. They're jus'
spoiling for some deviltry or other, and if she comes out in front of
the curtain and makes an appeal to 'em, why, there'll be one of the
meanest scraps that's been seen in the mountains for some time."

"You bet," agreed the sheriff. "What do you suppose that Seagreave's
chin