on, in a deep, thrilling tone, "do you know
what these whisky-runners risk? Do you? No. Of course you don't. They
risk life as well as liberty. They're threatened every moment of their
lives. The penalty is heavy, and when a man becomes a whisky-runner he
has no intention of being taken--alive. Think of all that, and see
where your imagination carries you. Then think of Charlie--as we know
him. An artist. A warm-hearted, gentle creature, whose only sins
are--against himself."

But the younger girl's face displayed skepticism.

"Yes--as we know him," she replied quickly. "I've thought of it while
he's been giving me lessons in painting, when I've watched him with
you, with that wonderful look of dog-like devotion in his eyes, while
hanging on every word you uttered. I've thought of it all. And always
running through my mind was the title of a book I once read--'Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.' You are sure, and I--I only wonder."

Kate's hand relaxed its hold upon her sister's arm. Her whole
expression changed with a suddenness which, had she observed it, must
have startled the other. Her eyes were cold, very cold, as she
surveyed the sister to whom she was so devoted, and who could find it
in her heart to think so harshly of one whom she regarded as a sick
and ailing creature, needing the utmost support from natures morally
stronger than his own.

"You must think as you will, Helen," she said coldly. "I know. I know
Charlie. I understand the gentle heart that guides his every action,
and I warn you you are wrong--utterly wrong. Everybody is wrong, the
police--everybody."

She turned away and moved a few steps down the slope toward the
approaching figure.

CHAPTER VII

CHARLIE BRYANT

As Kate stood out from the shadow of the trees, the man approaching,
looking up, beheld her, and his dark eyes gladdened with a smile of
delight. His greeting came up to her on the still air in a tone
thrilling with warmth and deep feeling.

"Ho, Kate," he cried, in his deeply musical voice. "I saw you and
Helen making this way, and guessed I'd just get around."

He was breathing hard as he came up the hill, his slight figure was
bending forward with the effort of his climb. Kate watched him, much
as an anxious mother might watch, with doubtful eyes, some effort of
her ailing child. He reached her level and stood breathing heavily
before her.

"I was around watching the boys at work down there on the new church,"
he went o