he cavern.

Her heart seemingly leaped into her throat at every beat; but with
steady hands and smiling face she went about the preparation of the
meal. She fried the venison and baked the wocus bread, and with more
than usual spirit and gaiety set the dishes at Ben's place at the
table. "Draw up your chair," she told him. "I'll have the tea in a
minute."

Ben peered with sudden interest into her face. "What's troubling you,
Bee?" he asked gently. "You're pale as a ghost."

"I'm not feeling overly well." Her eyes dropped before his gaze. "I'm
not hungry--at all. But it's nothing to worry about--"

She saw by his eyes that he _was_ worrying; yet it was evident that he
had not the slightest suspicion of the real cause of the sudden pallor
in her cheeks. She saw his face cloud and his eyes darken; and again she
heard that faint, small voice of remorse--whispering deep in her heart's
heart. He was always so considerate of her, this jailer of hers. His
concern was always so real and deep. Yet in a moment more the kindly
sympathy would be gone from his face. He would be lying very still--and
his face would be even more pale than hers.

Listlessly she walked to the door of the cave, procuring a handful of
dried red-root leaves that she used for tea. Through the cavern opening
he saw her drop them into the bucket that served as their teapot.

Then she came back for the oiled, cloth bag that contained the last of
their sugar. This was always one of her little kindnesses,--to sweeten
his tea for him before she brought it to him. He began to eat his steak.

In one glance the girl saw that he was wholly unsuspecting. He trusted
her; in their weeks together he had lost all fear of treachery from her.
There he was, exulting over the frugal lunch she had prepared, with no
inkling of the deadly peril that even now was upon him. She wished he
did not trust her so completely; it would be easier for her if he was
just a little wary, a little more on guard.

She felt cold all over. She could hardly keep from shivering. But this
was the moment of trial; the thing would be done in a moment more. She
mustn't give way yet to the growing weakness in her muscles. She walked
to the vine where she had left the potion.

How much of it there was--it seemed to have doubled in quantity since
she had left it. A handful of the black berries meant death--certain as
the sunrise--but what did half a handful mean? The question came to her
again. H