ame frankly enough, and it
seems the revolver found on the scene of the crime had his initials,
'J. T.'--Jim Travers, cut in the grip. In fact, he admits the
revolver is--. What's wrong, Miss Harris? Are you ill?"

Beulah's breath had stopped at the mention of Travers' name, and she
staggered to a chair. Harris, too, was overcome.

"We knew him down East," Beulah explained, when she had somewhat
recovered her composure. "I could not have thought it possible!"

"I didn't think he would have carried it that far," said Harris, at
length, speaking very slowly and sadly. "Jim, Jim, you've made a
worse mistake than mine."

Mary learned of the disclosure in a few minutes, and followed Beulah
upstairs.

"You poor child!" she said, as she overtook her daughter.

"It's not me," she shot back. "It's Jim. He must be saved, some way.
It's impossible to think--I won't think it, no matter what they say!
Let them find what they like!...But he's in a hole, and we've got to
get him out."

The mother shook her head with some recollection of the blindness of
love. And yet her own heart refused to accept any idea of guilt on
the part of Travers.

"I want to be alone, mother," said Beulah. "I want to be alone, to
think. I'm going down by the river."

As she strode rapidly through the paths in the cotton-woods the girl
gradually became conscious of one dominating impulse in her maze of
emotions. She must see Jim. She must see him at once. She must see
him alone. There were things to be said that needed--that
admitted--no witness. She knew that. Arthurs or one of the men would
willingly ride to town for her, or with her, but this was a task for
her alone. They must know nothing until it was over.

Outwardly calm, but inwardly burning with, impatience, she returned
to the house and went through the form of eating supper. Then she
dallied through the evening, giving her attention to Allan until all
the household, except her mother, had gone to bed.

"I will watch with Allan to-night," her mother said. "You need rest
more than I do. Lie down in my room and try to get some sleep."

Her mother kissed her, and Beulah went to her room. But not to sleep.
When silence filled all the house she slipped gently down the stairs,
through the front yard, and into the corral. Fortunately her horse
had been stabled. She harnessed him with some difficulty in the
darkness, and threw herself into the saddle. For a hundred yards she
walked him; then