get it elsewhere. I said that in order to induce him to help
me."

A wonderful light sprang to the girl's eyes, but still she
maintained her level voice.

"You asked him for a rifle with which to escape. You expected to
get it of me. Deny it if you can."

Ned Trent looked at her keenly a moment, then dropped his eyes.

"It is true," said he.

"And the pity was to give you this weapon; and the duty was my duty
to my father's house."

"It is true," he repeated, dejectedly.

"And you lied to me when you said you had a rifle with which to
journey _la Longue Traverse_."

"That too is true," he acknowledged.

When next she spoke her voice was not quite so well controlled.

"Why did you not ask me, as you intended? Why did you tell me
these lies?"

The young man hesitated, looked her in the face, turned away, and
murmured, "I could not."

"Why?" persisted the girl. "Why? You must tell me."

"Because," said Ned Trent--"because it could not be done. Every
rifle in the place is known. Because you would be found out in
this, and I do not know what your punishment might not be."

"You knew this before?" insisted Virginia, stonily.

"Yes."

"Then why did you change your mind?"

"When first I saw you by the gun," began Ned Trent, in a low voice,
"I was a desperate man, clutching at the slightest chance. The
thought crossed my mind then that I might use you. Then later I
saw that I had some influence over you, and I made my plan. But
last night----"

"Yes, last night?" urged Virginia, softly.

"Last night I paced the island, and I found out many things. One
of them was that I could not."

"Even though this dreadful journey----"

"I would rather take my chances."

Again there was silence between them.

"It was a good lie," then said Virginia, gently--"a noble lie. And
what you have told me to comfort me about my father has been nobly
said. And I believe you, for I have known the truth about your
fate." He shut his lips grimly. "Why--why did you come?" she
cried, passionately. "Is the trade so good, are your needs then so
great, that you must run these perils?"

"My needs," he replied. "No; I have enough."

"Then why?" she insisted.

"Because that old charter has long since expired, and now this
country is as free for me as for the Company," he explained. "We
are in a civilized century, and no man has a right to tell me where
I shall or shall not go. Does the Company own the Indi