cted, to take such action thereupon as in the
fullness of his own good judgment seemed fit. But since the man was
evidently so sharp, Hanway had hitherto feared even indirectly to
trench upon it; here, however, the opening was so natural, so
propitious, that he was fain to take advantage of it.

"An' see," he resumed, "what dangers kem o' hevin' no road. That thar
man what war killed las' month, ef we hed hed a reg'lar county road,
worked on an' kep' open, stiddier this hyar herder's trail, this-a-way
an' that, he could hev rid along ez free an' favored, an'"--

"Why," Selwyn broke in, "the testimony was to the effect that he was
riding a young, skittish horse, which was startled by stray hogs
breaking at a dead run through the bushes, and that the horse bolted
and ran away. And the man died from concussion of the brain. That
would have happened if we had had a road of the first class, twenty
feet wide, instead of this little seven-foot freak you all are so
mashed on."

His face had not lost a tinge of its brilliant color. His animated
eyes were still fired by that inward flame that was consuming his
years, his days, even his minutes, it might seem. His hands, fine,
white, and delicate, were thrust jauntily into the pockets of his red
jacket, and Hanway felt himself no nearer the heart of the mystery
than before. The subject, evidently, was not avoided, held naught of
menace. He went at it directly.

"Seems strange he war a-comin' ter visit you-uns, an' hed yer mail in
his pocket, an' ye never seen him afore," he hazarded, "nor knowed who
he war."

"But I have found out since," Selwyn said, his clear eyes resting on
his visitor without the vestige of an affrighted thought. "He was Mr.
Keith, a chemist from Glaston; he was quite a notable authority on
matters of physical science generally. I had written to him
about--about some points of interest in the mountains, and as he was
at leisure he concluded to come and investigate--and--take a holiday.
He didn't let me know, and as I had never seen him I didn't at first
even imagine it was he."

There was a silence. Selwyn's blue eyes dwelt on the fast-descending
lines of rain that now blurred all view of the mountains; the globular
drops here and there adhering to the pane, ever dissolving and ever
renewed, obscured even the small privilege of a glimpse of the
dooryard. The continual beat on the roof had the regularity and the
tireless suggestion of machinery.

"How