face.

"It is wicked," at length he panted. "It is just terrible wicked--a
young girl like that."

"Wicked? Who? What?"

"That--that girl--dancing like that."

"Dancing? That kind of dancing?" cried Mandy, astonished. "I was brought
up a Methodist myself," she continued, "but that kind of dancing--why, I
love it."

"It is of the devil. I am a Methodist--a preacher--but I could not
preach, so I quit. But that is of the world, the flesh, and the devil
and--and I have not the courage to denounce it. She is--God help
me--so--so wonderful--so wonderful."

"But, Mr. Smith," said Mandy, laying her hand upon his arm, and seeking
to sooth his passion, "surely this dancing is--"

Loud cheers and clapping of hands from the house interrupted her. The
man put his hands over his eyes as if to shut out a horrid vision,
shuddered violently, and with a weird sound broke from her touch and
fled into the bluff behind the house just as the party came streaming
from the house preparatory to departing. It seemed to Mandy as if she
had caught a glimpse of the inner chambers of a soul and had seen things
too sacred to be uttered.

Among the last to leave were young Dent and the Inspector.

"We have found out the culprit," cried Dent, as he was saying
good-night.

"The culprit?" said Mandy. "What do you mean?"

"The fellow who has engineered this whole business."

"Who is it?" said Cameron.

"Why, listen," said Dent. "Who got the logs from Bracken? Smith. Who
got the Inspector to send men through the settlement? Smith. Who got the
lumber out of the same Inspector? Smith. And the sash and doors out of
Cochrane? Smith. And wiggled the shingles out of Newsome? And euchred
old Scotty Hepburn into building the fireplace? And planned and bossed
the whole job? Who? Smith. This whole business is Smith's work."

"And where is Smith? Have you seen him, Mandy? We have not thanked him,"
said Cameron.

"He is gone, I think," said Mandy. "He left some time ago. We shall
thank him later. But I am sure we owe a great deal to you, Inspector
Dickson, to you, Mr. Dent, and indeed to all our friends," she added, as
she bade them good-night.

For some moments they lingered in the moonlight.

"To think that this is Smith's work!" said Cameron, waving his hand
toward the house. "That queer chap! One thing I have learned, never to
judge a man by his legs again."

"He is a fine fellow," said Mandy indignantly, "and with a fine soul in
spite of