would have gone smilingly and
willingly to the rack rather than whisper a word, except to Bob. And
thus it was that, in the last resort, the stream from Uncle Zack's
spring of secrets trickled through many silent places to pour itself
into Bob's casual reservoirs.

Jane sat, pale and sometimes trembling, as Aunt Timmie unfolded the
story of Zack's concoction, colored here and there with promptings of
the old woman's own imagination. She heard each detail, and saw with
shocking vividness the shot fired into the back of a man's head, and saw
him fall across his threshold. Creepy feelings touched her body at this
sickening reminder of a day she had stooped to awaken her father, and
found that he had fallen in an everlasting, rather than a drunken,
sleep. She shivered. The old woman finished, wiped her face and again
mournfully rocked her body to and fro.

"When did it happen?" Jane whispered.

"I reckon sometime yistiddy; but it couldn' a-been so ve'y long ago,
noway!"

Without another word Jane pushed back the sums and passed swiftly
stableward across the lawn. There was no one at the stables, but she
took down her bridle and walked past the long row of box-stalls, finally
entering when she came to a horse she knew. Understanding something of
her need, he took the bit in his mouth before she had even pressed
it--a little act of kindness which, from that time forward, made her his
staunch friend.

"Now if you won't swell up when I try to tighten the girth," she
pleaded, on the verge of tears.

She had forgotten to whistle for Mac.

CHAPTER XXIX

A PARALYSING DISCOVERY

Jane did not go fast to Arden, for the sun was too blistering hot to
torture a horse by frantic riding. But her mind was frantic, and
tortured, with the uncertainty of what might be before her. Was Dale
there? Had he not, indeed, fled into the mountains as any of his people
would have done? Had he been arrested? Question after question surged
through her brain, finding no answers and passing on.

The Colonel was not in his accustomed place on the honeysuckled end of
the porch, nor was Zack about, so she dismounted alone and tied the
lathery beast. Perhaps they were at Bradford's cottage, comforting
little Mesmie. Perhaps they were--but she tried not to think of that!
Never had the world seemed so deserted. Nothing was astir. The edge of a
lace curtain, drawn outward by the passing of someone through one of the
library French windows, h