ly days, Jack, when I preached in Tom
Morrison's log-house, and you led the bass at the services. I'll
warrant that voice of yours could sing yet if you gave it a chance."

Harris received these remarks with a mixture of feelings. The
minister's reference to his financial standing carried with it a
certain gratification, but it consorted poorly with his recent
conversations with his wife and with his present mission.

"And Beulah?" continued the minister, conscious that his first shot
had gone wild. "She's a fine young woman now. I see her in church
occasionally. In fact, I was speaking with Mrs. Burton, the choir
leader, a day or so ago, and Beulah's name was mentioned between us."

"It was about Beulah I came to see you," said Harris, with averted
eyes. Then in a few words he gave his version of what he knew and
what he suspected.

"I fear I can add nothing to your information," said Mr. Guthrie.
"They haven't been here, and, as you say, if Beulah contemplated
marriage I think she would have called on me. Travers, too, I knew a
little, and thought him a decent chap. But we must find the girl and
talk this over quietly with her. Is there any place in town she would
be likely to go to? What about Mrs. Goode's boarding-house? I will
just call up on the telephone. I can make inquiry without the
necessity of any explanations."

Inquiry at the house of Mrs. Goode brought a strong ray of light out
of the darkness. Beulah had been there during the morning, and had
explained that she was leaving on the west-bound train, which even
now was thrumming at the station. On learning this, without a word,
Harris sprang into the buggy, while Allan brought a sharp cut of the
whip across the spirited horses. They reached the railway station
half a minute too late; the train was already pulling out, and as
Harris's eyes followed it in anger and vexation they plainly saw Jim
Travers swing lithely on to the rear platform.

With an oath the farmer reached for his rifle, but Allan wrenched it
from his hands before any onlookers noted the action. "Don't be a
fool," he whispered, and started the horses homeward.

CHAPTER X

INTO THE FARTHER WEST

For the first time in his life Harris surrendered his purpose to the
judgment of his son, and as they drove homeward along the dusty trail
in the heat of the day the consciousness came home to him that Allan
was right. To have used his gun would, of course, have been madness;
he h