ail toward Madge's cabin. Presently he heard him
calling. He went slowly up the trail, himself.

The girl came quickly from her cabin in answer to the shouting of the
mountaineer.

"What is it, Joe?" she asked.

"I want a word with you. I've come a purpose," Lorey answered sullenly.

The girl was almost frightened by his manner. She had never seen him in
this mood; he had never come to her, alone, at night, before. "Well,
Joe, you'll have to wait," said she. "I've got some things to do,
to-night." Her sewing was not yet half finished.

Standing on her little bridge, she held with one hand to the worn old
rope by means of which she presently would pull it up. She did not take
Joe very seriously; in the darkness she could not see the grim
expression of his brow, the firm set of his jaw, the clenched hands, one
of which was pressed against the game sack with his powerful plunder
hidden in it. She laughed and tried to joke, for, even though she did
not guess how serious he was, her heart had told her that some day, ere
long, there must of stern necessity be a full understanding between her
and the mountaineer, and that he would go from her, after it, with a
sore heart. In the past she had not wished to marry him, but she had
never definitely said, even to herself, that such a thing was quite
impossible for all time to come. Now she knew that this was so, although
she would not acknowledge, even to herself, the actual reason for this
certainty. No; she could never marry Joe. She hoped that, he would never
again beg her to.

"Come back some other time, when I ain't quite so busy," she said trying
to speak jokingly. "Tomorrow, or nex' week, or Crismuss."

He stood gazing at her sourly. "I'll come sooner," he said slowly.
"Sooner. An' hark ye, Madge, if that thar foreigner comes in atween us,
I'm goin' to spile his han'some face forever!"

"What nonsense you do talk!" the girl exclaimed, but her heart sank
with apprehension as the man stalked down the path. She did not pull the
draw-bridge up, at once, but stood there, gazing after him, disturbed.

Again he met Layson, still strolling slowly on the trail, busy with
confusing thoughts, puffing at his pipe. The mountaineer did not call
out a greeting, but stepped out of the trail, for Frank to pass, without
a word.

"Why, Joe," said Layson, "I didn't see you. How are you?" He held out
his hand.

The mountaineer said nothing for an instant, then he straightened to his