e was one
thing, on this mortal earth, that she must not tell. Perhaps, by the
mercy of heaven, they would not find the cave, hidden as it was at the
edge of the little glade. The forests were boundless; perhaps they would
miss the place in their search. She straightened, scarcely perceptibly.

"Yes, tell us where he is," her father urged. "That's the first thing.
We'll find him, anyway, in the morning."

The girl shook her head. She knew now that even if they promised mercy
she must not reveal Ben's whereabouts. Their rage and cruelty would not
be stayed for a spoken promise. The only card she had left, her one
last, feeble hope of preserving Ben's life, lay in her continued
silence. Ray's foul-nailed, eager hands could claw her lips apart, but
he could not make her speak.

"I won't tell you," she answered at last, more clearly than she had
spoken since her capture. "You said a few minutes ago I had gone
over--to the opposite camp. I am, from now on. He was in the right, and
he gave up his fight against you long ago. Now I want to go."

Fearing that Neilson might show mercy, Ray leaped in front of her. "You
don't go yet awhile," he told her grimly. "I've got a few minutes'
business with you yet. I tell you that we'll find him, if we have to
search all year. And he'll have twice the chance of getting out alive if
you tell us where he is."

She looked into his face, and she knew what that chance was. Her eyelids
dropped halfway, and she shook her head. "I'd die first," she answered.

"It never occurred to you, did it, that there's ways of _making_ people
tell things." He suddenly whirled, with drawn lips, to her father.
"Neilson, is there any reason for showing any further consideration to
this wench of yours? She's betrayed us--gone over to the opposite
camp--lived for weeks, willing, with Ben. I for one am never going to
see her leave this camp till she tells us where he is. I'm tired of
talking and waiting. I'm going to get that paper away from him, and I'm
going to smash his heart with my heel. We've almost won out--and I'm
going to go the rest of the way."

Neilson straightened, his eyes steely and bright under his grizzled
brows. Only too well he knew that this was the test. Affairs were at
their crisis at last. But in this final moment his love for his daughter
swept back to him in all its unmeasured fullness,--and when all was said
and done it was the first, the mightiest impulse in his life. Ben had
been