e was a great smashing and snapping of undergrowth and fallen
branches as they drove in among the birches. Then the team stopped,
and Hawtrey, who sprang down, floundered noisily among the undergrowth,
while another thud of hoofs and rattle of wheels grew louder behind
them up the trail. In a minute or two he came back and lifted Agatha
down.

[Illustration: "Then something seemed to crack, and she saw the
off-side horse stumble and plunge."]

"It's the trace broken. I had to make the holes with my knife, and the
string's torn through," he said. "Voltigeur got it round his feet,
and, as usual, tried to bolt. Anyway, we'll make the others pull up
and take you in."

They went back to the trail together, and reached it just as Hastings
reined in his team. He got down and walked back with Hawtrey to the
latter's waggon. It was a minute or two before they reappeared again,
and Mrs. Hastings, who had got down in the meanwhile, drew Hawtrey
aside.

"I almost think it would be better if you didn't come any further
to-night," she said.

"Why?" the man asked sharply.

"I can't help thinking that Agatha would prefer it. For one thing,
she's rather jaded, and wants quietness."

"You feel sure of that?"

There was something in the man's voice which suggested that he was not
quite satisfied, and his companion was silent a moment.

"It's good advice, Gregory," she said. "She'll be better able to face
the situation after a night's rest."

"Does it require much facing?" Hawtrey asked drily.

Mrs. Hastings turned from him with a sign of impatience. "Of course it
does. Anyway, if you're wise you'll do what I suggest, and ask no more
questions."

Then she got into the waggon, and Hawtrey stood still beside the trail,
feeling unusually thoughtful when they drove away.

CHAPTER XI.

AGATHA'S DECISION.

It was with an expectancy which was slightly toned down by misgivings
that Hawtrey drove over to the homestead where Agatha was staying the
next afternoon. The misgivings were, perhaps, not unnatural, for he
had been chilled by the girl's reception of him on the previous day,
and her manner afterwards had, he felt, left something to be desired.
Indeed, when she drove away with Mrs. Hastings he had felt himself a
somewhat injured man.

His efforts to mend the harness, and extricate the waggon in the dark,
which occupied him for an hour, had, however, partly helped to drive
the matter from his mind, and w