ce grew suddenly as changeless as the white moonlight in the
forest.

"Accidental knives and bullets in Arcadia!" said he at length. "It
jars a bit."

"I do hope," said Diane with definite disapproval, "that you're not
going to fuss. I didn't. I was frightened of course, for at first I
thought it had been aimed straight at me--and I was quite alone--but
startling things do happen now and then, and if you can't explain them,
you might as well forget them. I hope I may count on your silence. If
my aunt gets wind of it, she'll conjure up a trail of accidental shots
to follow me from here to Florida and every time it storms, she'll like
as not hear ghost-bullets. She's like that."

"Florida!" ejaculated Philip--and stared.

"To be sure!" said Diane. "Why not? Must I alter my plans for
somebody's stray bullet?"

Philip frowned uneasily. The instinctive protest germinating
irresistibly in his mind was too vague and formless for utterance.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered. "But I fancied you were merely
camping around among the hills for the summer."

The girl rose and moved off toward the van looming ghostlike through
the trees.

"Good night--_Philip_!" she called lightly, her voice instinct with
delicate irony.

Philip stirred. His voice was very gentle.

"Thank you!" he said simply.

Diane hastily climbed the steps at the rear of the van and disappeared.

"I hate men," thought Diane with burning cheeks as she seated herself
upon the cot by the window and loosened the shining mass of her
straight black hair, "who ramble flippantly through a conversation and
turn suddenly serious when one least expects it."

By the fire, burning lower as the moon climbed higher, Philip lay very
quiet. Somehow the moonlit stillness of the forest had altered
indefinably. Its depth and shadows jarred. Fair as it was, it had
harbored things sinister and evil. And who might say--there was peace
of course in the moon-silver rug of pine among the trees, in the
gossamer cobweb there among the bushes jeweled lightly in dew, in the
faint, sweet chirp of a drowsy bird above his head--but the moon-ray
which lingered in the heart of the wild geranium would presently
cascade through the trees to light the horrible thing of lead which had
menaced the life of his lady.

Well, one more pipe and he would go to bed. Johnny must be tired of
waiting. Philip slipped his hand into his pocket and whistled.

"So," said he softly