her--if it means what it once did to you."

"It means that and more, Rivers."

Northrup heard his own words with a kind of shock. Again he and Rivers
were stripped bare as once before they had been.

"It--it won't be long, Northrup--there's damned little I can do to--to
make good, but--I can do this."

The choking voice fell into silence. Presently Northrup stood up.
Years seemed to have passed since he had come into the room. It was a
trick of life, in the Forest, when big things happened--they swept all
before them.

"Rivers, you are a brave man," he slowly said. "Will you shake
hands?"

The thin cold fingers instantly responded.

"God helping me, I will not betray your trust. Once I would not have
been so sure of myself, but you and I have been taught some strange
truths."

Then something of the old Larry flashed to the surface: the old, weak
relaxing, the unmoral craving for another's solution of his problems.

"Oh, it always has to be someone to help me out," he said.

"You know about Maclin?"

"Yes, Rivers."

"Well, I did the turn for that damned scoundrel. I got the Forest out
of his clutches."

"Yes, you did when you got your eyes opened, Rivers."

"They're open now, Northrup, but there always has to be--someone to
help me out."

"Rivers, where is your wife?" So suddenly did Northrup ask this that
Larry started and gave a quick laugh.

"She went to that cabin of hers--you know?"

"Yes, I know."

Both men were reliving old scenes.

Then Larry spoke, but the laugh no longer rang in his tone:

"She'll be coming, by now, down the trail," he whispered. "Go and meet
her, tell her you've been here, that I told you where she was--nothing
more! Nothing more. Ever!"

"That's right, never!" Northrup murmured. Then he added:

"I'll come back with her, Rivers, soon. I'm going to stay at the inn
for a time."

Their hands clung together for a moment longer while one man
relinquished, the other accepted. Then Northrup turned to the door.

There was a dull purplish glow falling on the Forest. The subtle,
haunting smell of wood smoke rose pungently. It brought back, almost
hurtingly, the past. Northrup walked rapidly along the trail.
Hurrying, hurrying to meet--he knew not what!

Presently he saw Mary-Clare, from a distance, in the ghostly woods.
Her head was bowed, her hands clasped lightly before her. There was no
haste, no anticipation in her appearance; she simply came along!

The sight of