Sleep and
dream and--forget."

And that night Burke Lawson, after an hour's struggle, determined to
come forth among his kind and take his place. Nella-Rose had decided
him. He was tired of hiding, tired of playing his game. One look at the
face he had loved from its babyhood had turned the tide. Lawson had
never before been so long shut away from his guiding star. And she had
said that he might ask again when he dared--and so he came forth from
his cave-place. Once outside, he drew a deep, free breath, turned his
handsome face to the sky, and _felt_ the prayer that another might have
voiced.

He thought of Nella-Rose, remembered her love of adventure, her
splendid courage and spirit. Nothing so surely could win her as the
proposal he was about to make. To ask her to remain at Pine Cone and
settle down with him as her hill-billy would hold small temptation, but
to take her away to new and wider fields--that was another matter! And
go they would--he and she. He would get a horse somewhere, somehow. With
Nella-Rose behind him, he would never stop until a parson was reached,
and after that--why the world would be theirs from which to choose.

And it was at that point of Lawson's fervid, religious state that Jed
Martin had materialized and made it imperative that he be dealt with
summarily and definitely.

After confiding his immediate future to the subjugated Martin--having
forced him to cover at the point of a pistol--Burke, with his big,
wholesome laugh, crawled again out of the cave. Then, raising himself to
his full height, he strode over the sodden trail toward White's cabin
with the lightest, purest heart he had carried for many a day. But Fate
had an ugly trick in store for him. He was half way to White's when he
heard steps. Habit was strong. He promptly climbed a tree. The moon came
out just then and disclosed the follower. "Blake's dawg," muttered
Lawson and, as the big hound took his stand under the tree, he
understood matters. Blake was his worst enemy; he had a score to settle
about the revenue men and a term in jail for which Lawson was
responsible. While the general hunt was on, Blake had entered in,
thinking to square things, while not bringing himself into too much
prominence.

"Yo' infernal critter!" murmured Lawson, "in another minute you'll howl,
yo' po' brute. I hate ter shoot yo'--yo' being what yo' are--but here
goes."

After that White's was impossible for a time and Nella-Rose must wait.