er, or fear,--most terrible.

His deed had been accomplished with such savage deftness that none
pursuing could have guessed the tragedy. They might have waited long in
the open spaces for the dog's return or the sound of his joyous yelp of
recognition, but the sacrifice was needless. The affectionate creature
had been searching on his own behalf, careless of the blows with which
his master had driven him from his side the day before.

Trembling, Frale crouched again. The silence was filled with pain for
him. The moments swept on, even as the water rushed on, and the sun
began to drop behind the hills, leaving the hollows in deepening purple
gloom. At last, deeming that the search for the time must have been
given up, he crept cautiously toward the great holly tree, not for food,
but for hope. There, back in the shadow, he sat on a huge log, his head
bowed between his hands, and listened.

Presently the silence was broken by a gentle stirring of the fallen
leaves, not erratically this time, only a steady moving forward of human
feet. Again Frale's heart bounded and the red sought his cheek, but now
with a new emotion. He knew of but one footstep which would advance
toward his ambush in that way. Peering out from among the deepest
shadows, he watched the spot where Cassandra had promised food should be
placed for him, his eyes no longer a narrow slit of blue, but wide and
glad, his face transformed from the strain of fear with eager joy.

Soon she emerged, walking wearily. She carried a bundle of food tied in
a cloth, and an old overcoat of rough material trailed over one arm.
These she deposited on the flat stone, then stood a moment leaning
against the smooth gray hole of the holly tree, breathing quickly from
the exertion of the steep climb.

Her eyes followed the undulating line of the mountain above them, rising
tree-fringed against the sky, to where the highest peak cut across the
setting sun, haloed by its long rays of gold. No cloud was there, but
sweeping down the mountain side were the earth mists, glowing with
iridescent tints, draping the crags and floating over the purple
hollows, the verdure of the pines showing through it all, gilded and
glorified.

Cassandra waiting there might have been the dryad of the tree come out
to worship in the evening light and grow beautiful. So Thryng would have
thought, could he have seen her with the glow on her face, and in her
eyes, and lighting up the fires in her ha