was standing across the table from where he sat
smoking his great, black pipe. The other members of the gang were
lounging about, surly and black-browed, chafing inwardly over the delay
in getting away from the cave.

"I don't know why you've been held here. I only know it's d---- slow.
I'd chuck the job, if there wasn't so much dust in it for me."

"But what is to become of me? I cannot endure this much longer. It is
killing me. Look! I am black and blue from pinches. The old woman never
misses an opportunity to hurt me."

"She's jealous of you because you're purty, that's all. Women are all
alike, hang 'em! I wouldn't be in this sort of work if it hadn't been
for a jealous wife."

He puffed at his pipe moodily for a long time, evidently turning some
problem over and over in his mind. At last, heaving a deep sigh, and
prefacing his remarks with an oath, he let light in upon the mystery.
"I'll put you next to the job. Can't give any names; it wouldn't be
square. You see, it's this way: you ain't wanted in this country. I
don't know why, but you ain't."

"Not wanted in this country?" she cried blankly. "I don't stand in any
one's way. My life and my love are for the peaceful home that you have
taken me from. I don't ask for anything else. Won't you tell your
employer as much for me? If I am released, I shall never interfere with
the plans of--"

"'Tain't that, I reckon. You must be mighty important to somebody, or
all this trouble wouldn't be gone through with. The funny part of it is
that we ain't to hurt you. You ain't to be killed, you know. That's the
queer part of it, ain't it?"

"I'll admit it has an agreeable sound to me," said Rosalie, with a
shadow of a smile on her trembling lips. "It seems ghastly, though."

"Well, anyhow, it's part of somebody's scheme to get you out of this
country altogether. You are to be taken away on a ship, across the
ocean, I think. Paris or London, mebby, and you are never to come
back to the United States. Never, that's what I'm told."

[Illustration: "She shrank back from another blow which seemed
impending"]

Rosalie was speechless, stunned. Her eyes grew wide with the misery of
doubt and horror, her lips moved as if forming the words which would not
come. Before she could bring a sound from the contracted throat the
raucous voice of old Maude broke in:

"What are you tellin' her, Sam Welch? Can't you keep your face closed?"
she called, advancing upon him with a menac