wagon, and came home by a short cut through the
bush, long after dark. If I moved Indian-silent in my moccasins it was
because I always did. But--halfway to the shack clearing--I stopped
short, wolf-silent; which is different. Close by, invisible in the dark
spruces, I heard Paulette Brown speaking; and knew that once more she
was meeting a man in the dark, and, this time, the right one! I could
not see him any more than I could hear him, for he did not speak; but I
knew he was there. I crouched to make a blind jump for him--and my dream
girl's voice held me still.

"I don't care how you threaten me: you've got to _go_," she said
doggedly. "I know I've my own safety to look after, but I'll chance
that. I'll give you one week more. Then, if you dare to stay on here,
and interfere with me or the gold or anything else, I'll confess
everything to Dudley Wilbraham. I nearly did it last night. I _won't_
trust you--even if it means your giving away my hiding place to the
police!"

Whoever she spoke to moved infinitesimally in the dark. He must have
muttered something I could not hear, for the girl answered sharply: "As
for that, I'm done with you! Whether you go or don't go, this is the
last time I'll ever sneak out to meet you. When you dare to say you love
me"--and once more the collected hatred in her voice staggered me, only
this time I was thankful for it--"I could die! I won't hear of what you
say, remember, but I'll give you one week's chance. Then--or if you try
anything on with me and the gold--I'll tell!"

There was no answer. But my blood jumped in me with sheer fury, for
answer or no answer, I knew who the man beside her was. Close by me I
heard Dunn's unmistakable chuckle: and where Dunn was Collins was too. I
behaved like a fool. I should have bounced through the bush and grabbed
Dunn at least, which might have stopped some of the awful work that was
to come. But I stood still, till a sixth sense told me Collins was gone,
just as I could have gone myself, without sound or warning. Yet even
then I paused instead of going after him. First, because I had no
desire to give my reason for dismissing him next morning; second,
because I had a startling, ghastly thought that I'd heard Macartney's
quiet, characteristic footstep moving away,--and if a hard, set-eyed man
like our capable superintendent had been out listening to what a girl
said to Collins, as I had, I didn't know how in the devil I was to make
him hold hi