any previous vehicles; crossing this, they
entered the woods. Little fires for cooking burned all about them, and
nearer were parked an immense number of farm wagons and buggies, with
horses unharnessed and munching grain. Alan's guide found a place
among these for his automobile, and they got out and went forward on
foot. All about them, seated upon the moss or walking about, were
Indians, family groups among which children played. A platform had
been built under the trees; on it some thirty Indians, all men, sat in
straight-backed chairs; in front of and to the sides of the platform,
an audience of several hundred occupied benches, and around the borders
of the meeting others were gathered, merely observing. A very old
Indian, with inordinately wrinkled skin and dressed in a frock coat,
was addressing these people from the platform in the Indian tongue.

Alan halted beside his guide. He saw among the drab-clad figures
looking on, the brighter dresses and sport coats of summer visitors who
had come to watch. The figure of a girl among these caught his
attention, and he started; then swiftly he told himself that it was
only his thinking of Constance Sherrill that made him believe this was
she. But now she had seen him; she paled, then as quickly flushed, and
leaving the group she had been with, came toward him.

He had no choice now whether he would avoid her or not; and his
happiness at seeing her held him stupid, watching her. Her eyes were
very bright and with something more than friendly greeting; there was
happiness in them too. His throat shut together as he recognized this,
and his hand closed warmly over the small, trembling hand which she put
out to him. All his conscious thought was lost for the moment in the
mere realization of her presence; he stood, holding her hand, oblivious
that there were people looking; she too seemed careless of that. Then
she whitened again and withdrew her hand; she seemed slightly confused.
He was confused as well; it was not like this that he had meant to
greet her; he caught himself together.

Cap in hand, he stood beside her, trying to look and to feel as any
ordinary acquaintance of hers would have looked.

CHAPTER XIV

THE OWNER OF THE WATCH

"So they got word to you!" Constance exclaimed; she seemed still
confused. "Oh, no--of course they couldn't have done that! They've
hardly got my letter yet."

"Your letter?" Alan asked.

"I wrote to Blue Rap