uble coming from the
village.'

"It wasn't long before Bob crossed Alder Brook about forty rods this
side of the Gull Rock. They saw his tracks where he crossed the next
day, but Bob had the matches, and the sheriff and about forty that
went out to get him came back that night looking kind of down in the
mouth. There wasn't a sign of him after he crossed Alder Brook. He
knew those woods like a partridge. When he got through telling how he
got the square meal at Lower Saranac, Ed said to him:

"'Bob, you're welcome to what I've got,' and I told him, 'What I've
got is yours, and you know it.'

"He tried to say a little something, but he choked up, then he said:
'Boys, I'm sick of bein' hounded. There's been nights and days when
I've most died; if I can only get into Canady there won't none of 'em
git me.'

"Ed and I had about eleven dollars between us. 'That will get you
there, Bob,' I said, 'if you look sharp and don't take risks and keep
to the timber.' We gave him the eleven dollars and what cartridges and
matches we could spare, and what was left of the deer. I never saw
a fellow so grateful; he didn't say anything, but I saw his old grit
come back to him. That was Monday night, and about nine o'clock we
turned in. Before daylight I woke up to attend to the fire and saw he
was gone."

The men drew a deep breath. Keene and the actor looked blankly at each
other. Compared to the tale just ended, their own stories seemed but
a reflex of utterly selfish lives. Even the Emperor experienced a
strange thrill--possibly the first real sensation he had known since
he was a boy. As to Thayor--he had hung on every word that fell from
Holcomb's lips.

"And what motive had Dinsmore in killing Bailey?" asked Thayor,
nervously, when the others had gone to the hall for their coffee and
liqueurs. "I asked your father but he did not answer me, and yet he
must have known."

"Oh, yes, he knew, Mr. Thayor. Everybody knows, our way, but it's one
of those things we don't talk about--but I'll tell you. It was about
his wife."

Thayor folded his napkin in an absent way, laid it carefully beside
his plate, unfolded it again and tossed it in a heap upon the table,
and said with a certain tenderness in his tone:

"And did he get away to Canada, Holcomb?"

"No, sir; his little girl fell ill, and he wouldn't leave her."

"And the woman, Holcomb--was she worth it?" continued Thayor. There
was a strange tremor in his voice now--so muc