he barrier, still outside the citadel he
was striving to reduce.

"Yes, I know," he said almost bitterly. "It is just a wager--a wager
between us. It is a wager whereby we can force our convictions upon
each other."

Kate nodded, and the warm light of her eyes had changed to a look of
anxiety.

"There is a whole day and more before the--settlement, a day and night
which may be fraught with a world of disaster. Let us leave it at
that--for the present." Then, with an effort, she banished the
seriousness from her manner. "But I am delaying. I must pack my grip,
and harness my team. You see, I must leave directly after dinner."

Fyles accepted his dismissal. He turned to his horse and prepared to
mount. Kate followed his every movement with a forlorn little smile.
She would have given anything if he could have stayed. But----.

"Good luck," she cried, in a low tone.

"Good luck? Do you know what that means?" Fyles turned abruptly. "It
means my winning the wager, Kate."

"Does it?" Kate smiled tenderly across at him. "Well, good luck
anyway."

CHAPTER XXXIV

AN ENCOUNTER

Service was still proceeding at the Meeting House. The valley was
quiet. Scarcely a sound broke the perfect peace of the Sabbath
morning. The sun blazed down, a blistering fragrant heat, and the
laden atmosphere of the valley suggested only the rusticity, the
simple innocence of a pastoral world.

At Kate Seton's homestead a profound quiet reigned. There was the
occasional rattle of a collar chain to be heard proceeding from the
barn; the clucking of a foolish hen, fussing over a well-discovered
worm of plump proportions, sounded musically upon the air, and in
perfect harmony with the radiant, ripening sunlight. A stupid mongrel
pup stretched itself luxuriantly upon the ground in the shade of the
barn, and drowsily watched the busy hens, with one eye half open.
Another, evidently the brother of the former, was more actively
inclined. He was snuffing at the splashes of axle "dope" on the ground
beneath the wagon. He was young enough to eat, and appreciate,
anything he could get his baby teeth into.

There was scarcely a sign of life about the place otherwise. The whole
valley was enjoying that perfect, almost holy, calm, to be found
pretty well all the world over, yielded by man to the hours of
worship.

Inside the house there was greater activity. Kate Seton was in her
homely parlor. She was at her desk. That Bluebeard's chamber,