desire that
he should live at all? He would not have warned other men, for he had
done so at his own peril. The consequences even now might lead to his
own death. The old man, who had been closely scrutinizing Wade's
troubled face, opened his mouth to speak.

"Ye needn't take it so hard, boy," he said. "Ye kin build another cabin
like that in a few days, after ye git ther logs an' lumber out, that ye
kin, shore."

As old Peter was speaking there came even then, down from toward the
mountain way, the wild yell of the Comanche.

"Listen," said Peter, blowing out his light. "Thar ye air now. Don't say
a word nur make any noise. Let 'em go on by, a-thinkin' we air asleep,
an' ye'll see a putty sight soon. The fiends! the fiends! They're bent
on a-killin' of ye right now, Wade, an' gloatin' in their hearts cause
ye air mout nigh dead, so they think."

The well-known clatter of the horses feet came nearer and nearer. Old
Peter stepped up close to Wade and laid his hand on his shoulder
reassuringly. On the other side of him Wade felt the warm breath of old
Peter's daughter, as she hovered close to him. She was consoling him in
her kind, simple way, and he thanked God in his heart that it was so.
Thus they stood, waiting, while the lightning flashed fiercer and the
thunder peals grew louder.

Slowly the rain began to descend. Then suddenly, in that terrible moment
of anxious quietude, there burst forth through the midnight darkness a
faint ray of light which soon appeared a flame of fire, leaping and
dancing exultantly.

"Thar ye air," exclaimed Judson. "Yer cabin'll be in ashes afore
mornin', jest as I told ye awhile ago."

Silently the watchers watched, knowing full well what was in the heart
of Jack Wade. It was useless to try to hold conversation during that
awful period of suspense. Jack watched his little cabin burn, while the
flames, cracking and roaring, seemed to touch his own heart and set it
aflame also. The growing vengeance softened his feelings.

"Let her burn," he said, "but one soul shall burn in hell for this
night's work."

"Mor'n one," whispered Tom Judson.

The significance of his remarks, however, was lost to Jack Wade, who
thought only of avenging himself now. No thought for anyone entered his
heart.

For some time not a word was spoken, only watching; silently watching.
The flames reached high into the air, lighting up the landscape back
toward the mountain and over in the valley, although