e
struggling to even keep an appearance of interest. Eloise sank back on
the bench, her head supported against the wall, the lashes of her
half-closed eyes showing dark against the whiteness of her cheeks. She
looked so pitifully tired, the very heart choked in my throat.

The rest of us found a small stock of provisions, and Elsie, with Tim
to aid her, built a fire and prepared breakfast. A half-filled bottle
of whisky discovered in the cupboard, helped to revive all of us
slightly, and gave Asa sufficient courage to seek outside for a spring.
Tim, comparatively unwearied himself, and restless, located a trapdoor
in the floor, rather ingeniously concealed, which disclosed the
existence of a small cellar below. Candle in hand he explored this,
returning with two guns, together with a quantity of powder and ball,
and information that there remained a half-keg of the explosive hidden
below.

"Must a bin aiming ter blow up stumps, I reckon," he commented,
exhibiting a sample. "Coarsest I ever saw; cudn't hardly use thet in
no gun, but it's powder all right," and he crumbled the particles
between his fingers, flinging the stuff into the fire.

To remove the debris out of our way, I was gathering up the straw tick
and slit blankets, and piled them all together back on the bed.
Clinging to one of the blankets, caught and held by its pin, was a
peculiar emblem, and I stood for a moment with it in my hand, curiously
examining the odd design. Eloise unclosed her eyes, and started to her
feet.

"What is that you have?" she asked,

"A pin of some kind--a rather strange design; I just found it here,
entangled in this blanket."

She took it from my hand, her eyes opening wide as she, stared at the
trinket.

"Why," she exclaimed in surprise, "I have seen one exactly like it
before--Kirby wore it in his tie."

CHAPTER XXX

WE ACCEPT A REFUGEE

I looked again at the thing with a fresh curiosity, yet with no direct
thought of any connection. The undisguised terror manifest in her
face, however, caused me to realize the sudden suspicion which this
discovery had aroused.

"That means nothing," I insisted, taking the pin back into my own
possession. "It is probably the emblem of some secret order, and there
may be thousands of them scattered about. Anyhow this one never
belonged to Joe Kirby. He could never have been here. My guess is the
fellow is back at Yellow Banks before now. Forget it, Eloise, while