to the horse and
Golemar than to Houston.

"Eet is the one, big lie!"

"Yes, but there's not much way of proving it, Ba'tiste."

"Proof? Bah! And does Ba'teese need proof? Ba'teese no like this
woman, Jierdon. She say Ba'teese burn the mill."

"I didn't know you heard that."

"She have a bad mouth. She have a bad eye. She have a bad tongue.
Yes, _oui_! She have a bad tongue!"

"Let's wait, Ba'tiste. There may be some mistake about it. Of course,
it's possible. She had worked for my father for six months at the
time--she could have been placed there for a purpose. Her testimony
was of the sort that the jury could take either as for me or against
me; she established, as an eyewitness, that we had quarreled and that
the mallet played a part in it. Naturally, though, I looked to her as
my friend. I thought that her testimony helped me."

"And the taxi-driver? What did he say? Eh?"

"We never were able to find him."

"Oh, ho! Golemar! You hear?" The old trapper's voice was stinging
with sarcasm. "They nev' fin' heem. But the woman she was in a taxi.
Ah, _oui_. She could pass, just at the moment. She could put in the
mind of the jury the fact that there was a quarrel, while she preten'
to help M'sieu Houston. But the taxi-driver--no, they nev' fin' heem!"

"Let's wait, Ba'tiste."

"Oh--ah, _oui_."

On they drove in silence, talking of trivial things, each fencing away
from the subject that was on their minds and from mention of the
unfortunate interview with Medaine Robinette. The miles faded slowly,
at last to bring the camp into view. Ten minutes later, Houston leaped
from the buggy and knocked at the door of the cottage.

"I want to see Miss Jierdon," he told the cook who had opened the door.
That person shook her head.

"She's gone."

"Gone? Where?"

"To town, I guess. She came back here from Miss Robinette's last night
and packed her things and left. She didn't say where she was going.
She left a note for you."

"Let me have it!" There was anxiety in the command. The cook bustled
back into the house, to return with a sealed envelope addressed to
Houston. He slit it with a trembling finger.

"What she say?" Ba'tiste was leaning from the buggy. Houston took his
place beside him, and as the horse was turned back toward the trapper's
cabin, read aloud:

"Dearest Barry:

"Hate awfully to run away like this without seeing you, but it can't be
helped. Have an offe