to be uneasy. You won't even see these folks--unless you sneak up on
them." He stole a look at the artist, and chuckled maliciously as the
painter covertly shook his fist at him. "You may _hear_ them though."

"Which would probably be as bad," retorted the novelist, gruffly.

"Oh, I don't know!" returned the other. "You might be able to stand it. I
don't reckon you would object to a little music now and then, would
you?--_real_ music, I mean."

"So our neighbors are musical, are they?" The novelist seemed slightly
interested.

"Sibyl Andres is the most accomplished violinist I have ever heard," said
the Ranger. "And I haven't always lived in these mountains, you know. As
for Myra Willard--well--she taught Sibyl--though she doesn't pretend to
equal her now."

Conrad Lagrange was interested, now, in earnest He turned to the artist,
eagerly--but with caution--"Do you suppose it could be our neighbors in
the orange grove, Aaron?"

Brian Oakley watched them with quiet amusement.

"I know it is," returned the artist.

"You know it is!" ejaculated the other.

"Sure--I heard the violin this afternoon. While I was fishing," he added
hastily, when the Ranger laughed.

The novelist commented savagely, "Seems to me you're mighty careful about
keeping your news to yourself!"

This brought another burst of merriment from the mountaineer.

When the two men had explained to the Ranger about the music in the orange
grove, Conrad Lagrange related how they had first heard that cry in the
night; and how, when they had gone to the neighboring house, they had seen
the woman of the disfigured face standing in the doorway.

"It was Miss Willard who cried out," said Brian Oakley, quietly. "She
dreams, sometimes, of the accident--or whatever it was--that left her with
those scars--at least, that's what I think it is. Certainly it's no
ordinary dream that would make a woman cry like that. The first time I
heard her--the first time that she ever did it, in fact--she and Sibyl
were stopping over night at my house. It was three years ago. Jim Rutlidge
had just come West, on his first trip, and was up in the hills on a hunt.
He happened along about sundown, and when he stepped into the room and
Myra saw him, I thought she would faint. He looked like some one she had
known--she said. And that night she gave that horrible cry. Lord! but it
threw a fright into me. My wife didn't get over being nervous, for a week.
Myra explained that she