er marsh, where the moonlight might reveal her, and followed
close to the edge of the timber, a course that could not be visible from
beyond the lake. She approached the lake at its far neck, then followed
back along the margin clear to the edge of the woods in which the fire
was built.

In her years in the woods Beatrice had learned to stalk, and the
knowledge was of value to her now. With never a misstep she took down a
little game trail toward the camp fire. She was within fifty yards of it
now--she could make out three dark figures seated in the circle of
firelight. Walking softly but upright she pushed within ninety feet of
the fire.

Then she waited, in doubt as to her course. She was still too far
distant to hear more than the murmur of their voices. If she could just
get near enough to catch their words she could probably glean some idea
of their attitude toward Ben. She pushed on nearer, through the dew-wet
brush.

Impelled by the excitement under which she advanced, her old agility of
motion had for the moment returned to her; and she crept softly as a
fawn between the young trees. One misstep, one rustling branch or
crackling twig might give her away; but she took each step with
consummate care, gently thrusting the tree branches from her path.

Once a rodent stirred beneath her feet, and she froze--like a hunting
wolf--in her tracks. One of the three men looked up, and she saw his
face plainly through the low spruce boughs. And for a moment she thought
that this was a stranger. It was with a distinct foreboding of disaster
that she saw, on second glance, that the man was Ray Brent.

She had never seen such change in human countenance in the space of a
few months. She did not pause to analyze it. She only knew that his eyes
were glittering and fixed; and that she herself was deeply,
unexplainably appalled. The man cursed once, blasphemously, his face
dusky and evil in the eerie firelight, but immediately turned back to
his talk. Beatrice crept closer.

Now she was near enough to catch an occasional word, but not discern
their thoughts. It was evident, however, that their conversation was of
Ben and herself,--the same topic they had discussed nights without end.
She caught her own name; once Chan used an obscene epithet as he spoke
of their enemy.

Her instincts were true and infallible to-night; and she was ever more
convinced of their deadly intentions toward Ben. It was not wise to
announce herself