shall I do?"

Suddenly a light broke through her darkness and revealed to her a
definite course. This man must not be judged, at least by her, without
a hearing. Why should she not go to him? Why not challenge him with
the story? If he were the murderer, perhaps he would strike her to the
earth, and add her to the list of his victims. She laughed bitterly.
It would be good to die by his hand, she thought. Under any
circumstances life was not worth living. The thought fascinated her.
Yes, she would do it. Then her spirit of justice rose and rebelled.
No. He would then go unpunished. Leslie's death would remain
unavenged. The murderer would have triumphed.

She thought long; she moved wildly about the room. And as the hours
passed a demon seemed to come to her and take hold of her. It was the
demon which looked out of her brother's eyes, and which now looked out
of hers. He whispered to her, and her willing ears listened to all he
said. Her heart, torn by conflicting passions, drank in the cruel
promptings.

"Why not kill him? Why not kill him?" suggested the demon. "If he is
guilty, kill him, and your life will not have been lived in vain. If
he be a murderer it were but justice. You will have fulfilled your
promise of vengeance. After that you could turn your hand against
yourself."

And her heart echoed the question, "Why not?"

For nearly an hour she continued to pace her room. Yes, yes! Hers was
the right, she told herself. If he were the murderer she did not care
to live. They should die together; they should journey beyond
together. She thought over all the details, and all the time the demon
looked out of her eyes and jogged her with fresh arguments when her
heart failed. She knew where her brother kept his pistols. She would
wait until he had set out for Winnipeg. Then, on the morrow, she would
ride over to Lonely Ranch.

She nursed her anger; she encouraged it at every turn. And she longed
for the morrow. But outwardly she grew calm. Only her eyes betrayed
her. And they were not the eyes of perfect sanity. They glowed with a
lurid fire, the fire which shone in the fierce, dark eyes of her
brother.

CHAPTER XVI

AN ECHO FROM THE ALASKAN MOUNTAINS

Alice searched all over the farm for her friend. The last place in
which she thought of looking was the little bedroom the two girls
shared. Here at length she arrived, and a shock awaited her.

Prudence was sitting beside the window. She was gazin