"Not even Jose, who's nursed half the kiddies at
the Mission one time or another?" She shook her head. "Besides, you
only know the things Susan's handed you out of her fool head. And when
Susan talks, truth isn't a circumstance. I wouldn't say but what John
Kars hasn't got shot up at all--till I see him."

For all her easy manner she was troubled. And when Jessie had taken
herself back to the kitchen the ominous lines, which had gathered in
her face since her husband's murder, deepened. Distress looked out of
the eyes which gazed back at her out of her mirror as she stood before
it dressing her hair in the simple fashion of her life.

Bell River! She had learned to hate and fear its very name. Her whole
destiny, the destiny of all belonging to her seemed to be bound up in
that fateful secret which had been her husband's, and to which she had
been only partially admitted. Somehow she felt that the day must come
when she would have to assert her position to Murray, and once and for
all break from under the evil spell of Bell River, which seemed to hang
over her life.

But the shadow of it all lifted when later in the day John Kars and Dr.
Bill presented themselves. Kars' wound was almost completely healed,
and Jessie's delight knew no bounds. The mother reflected her
daughter's happiness, and she found herself able to listen to the story
of the adventures of these men without anything of the unease which had
at first assailed her.

Their story was substantially that which had been told to Murray, and
it was told with a matter-of-fact indifference, and made light of, in
the strong tones of John Kars, on whom danger seemed to have so little
effect. As Mrs. Mowbray listened she realized something of the
strength of this man. The purpose in him. The absolute reliance with
which he dealt with events as they confronted him. And so her thoughts
passed on to the girl who loved him, and she wondered, and more than
ever saw the hopelessness of Murray's aspirations.

The men took their departure, and, at Kars' invitation, Jessie went
with them to inspect their outfit. The mother was left gazing after
them from the open doorway. For all the aging since her husband's
death, she was still a handsome woman in her simple morning gown of a
bygone fashion.

She watched the three as they moved away in the direction of the
woodland avenue, which, years ago, she had helped to clear. Her eyes
and thoughts were on the