ust got away," said each officer to himself.
"She's _too_ calm."

She scooped up a spoonful of the fruit, peered at it critically,
splashed it back into the bubbling pot. From her manner it appeared the
most natural thing in the world to be canning peaches at midnight on the
top of South Mountain in the presence of officers of the State Police.

"My husband's gone to Baltimore," she vouchsafed at her easy leisure.

"Let's have a look in the cellar," said Merryfield, and dropped down the
cellar stairs with Hallisey at his heels. Together they ransacked the
little cave to a conclusion. During the process, Merryfield conceived an
idea.

"Hallisey," he murmured, "what would you think of my staying down here,
while you and Smith go off talking as though we were all together? She
might say something to the children, when she believes we're gone, and I
could hear every word through that thin floor."

"We'll do it!" Hallisey answered, beneath his voice. Then, shouting:--

"Come on, Smith! Let's get away from this; no use wasting time here!"

And in another moment Smith and Hallisey were crashing up the
mountain-side, calling out: "Hi, there! Merryfield--Oh! Merryfield,
wait for us!"--as if their comrade had outstripped them on the trail.

Merryfield had made use of the noise of their departure to establish
himself in a tenable position under the widest crack in the floor. Now
he held himself motionless, subduing even his breath.

One--two--three minutes of dead silence. Then came the timorous
half-whisper of a frightened child:

"Will them men kill father if they find him?"

"S-sh!"

"Mother!" faintly ventured another little voice, "will them men kill
father if they find him?"

"S-sh! S-sh! I tell ye!"

"Ma-ma! Will they kill my father?" This was the wail, insistent,
uncontrolled, of the smallest child of all.

The crackling tramp of the officers, mounting the trail, had wholly died
away. The woman evidently believed all immediate danger past.

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently, "they ain't goin' to lay eyes on yo'
father, hair nor hide of him. Quit yer frettin'!"

In a moment she spoke again: "You keep still, now, like good children,
while I go out and empty these peach-stones. I'll be back in a minute.
See you keep still just where you are!"

Stealing noiselessly to the cellar door as the woman left the house,
Merryfield saw her making for the woods, a basket on her arm. He watched
her till the shadows engu