er of an hour he pottered about the barn, going from
stall to stall, rummaging the harness room and feed room, all to no
purpose. At last he came out again upon the main floor, definitely
giving up the search, looking about him to see if everything was in
order.

The festoons of Japanese lanterns in and around the barn were not yet
lighted, but some half-dozen lamps, with great, tin reflectors, that
hung against the walls, were burning low. A dull half light pervaded the
vast interior, hollow, echoing, leaving the corners and roof thick with
impenetrable black shadows. The barn faced the west and through the open
sliding doors was streaming a single bright bar from the after-glow,
incongruous and out of all harmony with the dull flare of the kerosene
lamps.

As Annixter glanced about him, he saw a figure step briskly out of the
shadows of one corner of the building, pause for the fraction of one
instant in the bar of light, then, at sight of him, dart back again.
There was a sound of hurried footsteps.

Annixter, with recollections of the stolen buckskin in his mind, cried
out sharply:

"Who's there?"

There was no answer. In a second his pistol was in his hand.

"Who's there? Quick, speak up or I'll shoot."

"No, no, no, don't shoot," cried an answering voice. "Oh, be careful.
It's I--Hilma Tree."

Annixter slid the pistol into his pocket with a great qualm of
apprehension. He came forward and met Hilma in the doorway.

"Good Lord," he murmured, "that sure did give me a start. If I HAD
shot----"

Hilma stood abashed and confused before him. She was dressed in a white
organdie frock of the most rigorous simplicity and wore neither flower
nor ornament. The severity of her dress made her look even larger than
usual, and even as it was her eyes were on a level with Annixter's.
There was a certain fascination in the contradiction of stature and
character of Hilma--a great girl, half-child as yet, but tall as a man
for all that.

There was a moment's awkward silence, then Hilma explained:

"I--I came back to look for my hat. I thought I left it here this
afternoon."

"And I was looking for my hat," cried Annixter. "Funny enough, hey?"

They laughed at this as heartily as children might have done. The
constraint of the situation was a little relaxed and Annixter, with
sudden directness, glanced sharply at the young woman and demanded:

"Well, Miss Hilma, hate me as much as ever?"

"Oh, no, sir," she answ