gasped.

“Wait a moment then!” she whispered.

The man raised himself on his elbow and watched her as she ran to the tap in the pantry and filled a tumbler to the brim with water.

Greedy hands clutched the glass from her, and the contents were swallowed in great gulps. The man sighed like a tired child. He smiled slightly, showing teeth of delightful regularity.

“Water’s great––isn’t it?” he said childishly.

And as Eileen looked into his eyes she saw that they 15 were young eyes; eyes filled with tears, and eyes that were ever so blue.

“Quick! They’re pretty nearly here.”

Eileen commenced cautiously to pile the wood on top of him.

“Don’t mind me!” he whispered huskily. “Tumble it in. I’m––I’m only a runaway convict.”

She worked fast and furiously, and had just turned away from the innocent-looking, well-piled box of split wood in the corner, when she heard the excited voices of hurrying men at her front door.

They tapped sharply.

She took the lamp from the kitchen table, carried it with her to the door, shot the bolt back again and threw the door wide open.

Three men stepped into the semi-circle of light. All were tall and of agile build.

“Poor boy!” was Eileen’s first thought. “What chance has he against these?”

One of the men carried a rifle. She knew him. Everybody in Vernock knew him. She had known him ever since his coming to the Valley five years before.

She had marked with childlike wonder––as others had done––his meteoric progress in wealth and power. He was a man, disliked by some, feared by many, and obeyed by all; a land-owner; a cattle breeder; a grain dealer; a giant in body as well as will; and––the new Mayor of Vernock.

The other men were strangers to the girl.

All three walked straight through to the kitchen. The one nearest to Eileen addressed her.

“Sorry miss, for intrudin’ so late, ’specially as we hear your dad’s at Enderby and you’re all alone to-night. But we’re after a man––a convict––escaped from Ukalla 16 jail. Saw your light! Thought we saw your door open!”

He peered about suspiciously. “Didn’t see anything of him––did you?”

Eileen looked away from the ferrety eyes that searched hers.

“I was just going to bed,” she answered nervously. “I––I fancied I heard voices and a shot.”

“Wasn’t any fancy, miss!”

“I––I opened the door and looked out, but didn’t hear anything more, so I closed the door again.”

“Hum!” put in her interlocutor, rubbing his chin. “You didn’t see any signs of our man when you looked out?”

Eileen shivered, for she did not know how much these men knew or how much they had really seen.

“Yes or no, miss!” he snapped.

“No!––most certainly, no!” Eileen shot back at him in defiance. “How dare you talk to me in that way!”

Tears of vexation sprang to her eyes; vexation that she should have had to lie, although it was forced upon her unless she meant to betray the man who had trusted himself to her safe-keeping.

“Easy, officer;––easy! Miss Pederstone is all right,” put in the man with the rifle. “What she says you can bank on.”

“Oh, pshaw!––you don’t have to teach me my business,” retorted the detective.

“Maybe not; but you can stand some teaching in manners,” returned the other.

“See here, sir!” came the quick answer, “if you don’t like this, you had better get down the hill and home. You village mayors give me a pain.”

The man with the rifle bit his lip and remained silent.

“You don’t mind me having a look round, miss?” inquired 17 the officer a little bit less brusquely, but starting in to search without waiting for her permission.

He threw open the cupboards and the closets. He examined every room in the house. He even went into Eileen’s bedroom. She followed him there, carrying the lamp. He looked into her bed and searched under it. He examined her clothes chest.

At last both returned to the kitchen.

The moment she got there, Eileen’s heart stood still. She gave vent to a startled exclamation, which, however, she quickly covered up by stumbling slightly forward as if she had tripped on the rug and almost upset the lamp.

The second officer, who all along had remained silent and simply an onlooker, was seated on the top of the wood box, rapping his heels on the side of it and whistling softly to himself with a look on his face which might have been taken for one of blissful ignorance or secret knowledge, so bland was it.

“All through, Barney?” he asked.

“Ya!”

“Satisfied?”

“Ya!––come on!”

The second officer turned to the box upon which he had been sitting.

“Some box this!” he exclaimed, kicking it with his foot. “Guess we’d better see if there’s anyone under the wood pile.”

He got down and commenced to throw a few pieces off the top.

Eileen’s heart stopped beating.

The detective at the door came over with a look of supreme contempt on his face. He lifted the lid of the stove and spat some tobacco juice into the fire, then he went over to his companion.

“Say, Jim!––are you a detective or a country boob on his vacation?”

“Why? What’s the matter with you?”

“Aw, quit! Can’t you see the lady wants to get to bed! Why don’t you look inside the teapot?”

“Oh, all right!” replied the other, dusting off his hands. “This is your hunt:––if you are satisfied, so am I.”

Eileen’s heart thumped as if it would burst through her body, and she feared for the very noise of it.

Slowly the second detective followed the other two men out.

At the door, the man carrying the rifle came close to Eileen. He caught her hand in his and tapped it lightly.

“Don’t worry, little girl! I tried my best to keep them from disturbing you,” he said in low tones, “but you know what these fellows are like.”

“Thank you! You are very kind,” answered Eileen quietly. “Father will thank you, too, when he comes back.”

The Mayor wished her good-night, raised his hat and followed the others, who were already well on their way down the hill.

Eileen waited at the door until they were no longer within sight or earshot. Then she closed and bolted it. She ran over to the wood-box. She tossed the chunks of wood about her in frantic haste, whispering, almost crooning, to the man underneath, who did not hear her for he was lying there crumpled in a senseless heap.

With a cry she freed him and bent over him. Her supple young arms went under his shoulders. She raised him, half dragging, half lifting, until she had him stretched upon the floor in front of the stove. She ran for a basin of water, cut some linen into strips and, on her knees beside him, she bathed and dressed the raw, open wound in his side, where a bullet had ripped and torn along the white flesh.

When she finished, she raised his limp head and bathed his brow with cold water.

The fugitive groaned and opened his eyes.

He smiled a wan sort of smile through a grimy, unshaven mask, as he looked into the sweet face above him. Then he closed his eyes again, as if he feared the picture might vanish.

“Oh, brace up!” Eileen whispered tearfully, almost shaking him in her fear. “You must