, while
not agreeable, could not be said to be really unpleasant. It might
have interested him more, but for his anxiety to reach the shelter
which was now so near at hand.

Arriving at the cabin, he found the latch-string hanging out. A sharp
pull, the door was swung inward and Harvey stepped into a small room,
lit up by a crackling wood-fire on the hearth.

As he entered, two men who were smoking their pipes, looked up. The
visitor could not hide his expression of surprise, for they were Hugh
O'Hara and Thomas Hansell, the last persons in the world he wished to
see.

CHAPTER II.

A POINTED DISCUSSION.

Hugh O'Hara was in middle life. He was of Scotch descent, and, in his
younger days, had received a fair education. Even now he spent much
time over his books. He talked well, and was not without a certain
grace of manner founded, no doubt, on his knowledge of human nature,
which gave him great influence with others. It was this, as much as
his skill, that made him the leading foreman at a time when a score of
others had the right by seniority of service to the place.

But Hugh had dipped into the springs of learning just enough to have
his ideas of right and wrong turned awry and to form a distaste for his
lot that made his leadership dangerous. Besides, he had met with
sorrows that deepened the shadows that lay across his pathway. In that
little cabin he had seen a young wife close her eyes in death, and his
only child, a sweet girl of five years, not long afterward was laid
beside her mother. Many said that Hugh buried his heart with Jennie
and had not been the same man since. He was reserved, except to one or
two intimate friends. Shaggy, beetle-browed and unshaven, his looks
were anything but pleasing to those who did not fully know him.

Tom Hansell was much the same kind of man, except that he lacked the
book education of his companion and leader. He had strong impulses,
and was ready to go to an extreme length in whatever direction he
started, but he always needed a guiding spirit, and that he found in
Hugh O'Hara.

The latter, after burying his child, moved into the village, saying
that he never wanted to look again upon the cabin that had brought so
much sorrow to him. Most people believed he could not be led to go
near it, and yet on this blustery night he and Tom Hansell were seated
in the structure without any companions except the well known hound
Nero, and were smoking their