s, thrilling silence of the earlier adventure. The glamour
of it seemed to have departed with the moon.

Jacqueline, stiff with an embarrassment she did not understand (she
thought it the fault of the negligee and the stockingless feet) was
eager to get back to the shelter of the crowded cabin. Channing was by
this time as eager as herself, having discovered that riding-boots are
not the most comfortable equipment for mountain tramping.

"There's our cornfield, at last!" said the girl, and both heaved sighs
of relief.

They climbed laboriously toward the outline of corn stalks against the
starlit sky, with a darker outline looming behind; but as they came into
better sight of the cabin, she gave a cry of dismay.

"It's all lighted. Oh, Mr. Channing! They've missed us!"

"Damn!" said the author.

At that moment voices reached them: loud, drunken voices, mingled with
laughter, and a snatch of song.

"Why--why!" muttered Channing, blankly. "That can't be our cabin!"

Nor was it. They had trusted to the wrong landmark.

They turned and hurried down into the ravine again. But Channing
stumbled, and the sound reached the quick ears of the mountaineers
above. There was a shout, in a voice suddenly sobered.

"Who's down thar?"

It was followed by the sharp ping of a bullet.

"Good gad, but they're shooting!" gasped Channing.

"They certainly are," said the girl, with a giggle. "It must be a still
or something, and they think we're revenue officers!"

"Wh-what shall we do?"

"Run," she quoted him, laughing, and seizing his hand suited the action
to the word. She seemed perfectly unafraid. "They won't get our range in
the dark. Isn't this exciting?"

But the bullets followed them, too close for comfort.

"It's the lantern!" exclaimed Channing, and was about to drop it when
the girl seized it out of his hand.

"Here--don't do that! We'd be wandering about in this ravine all night
without it."

She looked at her companion in sheer surprise. It was her first
experience of the type of man who loses his head in the presence of
danger. Her voice became all at once quite motherly and kind.

"It's all right. You go ahead and I'll carry the lantern. They're
probably too drunk to follow us," she reassured him.

Channing, to the after mortification of his entire life, obeyed without
demur.

"It's all right," she repeated. "But go as fast as you can."

Shots were flying thick and fast about the lantern she held a