er when she told him she
could not make change.

He was like a man doing things in his sleep; his mind seemed a thousand
miles away. The woman packed the bread and bacon in a mat basket with a
plate and knife and watched him turn back in his tracks and vanish round
the bend of the road, glad to see the last of him. She reckoned him
crazy.

He was going back to Phyl.

His resolution never to see her again had vanished. She was his and he was
going to keep her, no matter what happened.

He would never part with her alive, if she killed him, if he killed her,
what matter. Nothing would stand in his path.

He reached the turning and there in the sunlight lay the half ruined
cabins and the well.

Walking softly he came to the door of the cabin where he had left Phyl.
She was there lying on the straw fast asleep. It was the sleep that comes
after exhaustion or profound excitement; she scarcely seemed to breathe.

Putting his bundle down by the door he came in softly and knelt down
beside her. His face was so close to hers that he could feel her breath
upon his mouth.

It only wanted that to complete his madness. He was about to cast himself
beside her when a pain, vicious and sharp as the stab of a red hot needle
struck him just above his right instep.

CHAPTER V

When Richard Pinckney came down to breakfast that morning, he found Miss
Pinckney seated at the table reading letters.

"Phyl went out early and has not come back yet," said she putting the
letters aside and pouring out the tea.

"Gone out," said he. "Where can she have gone to?"

Miss Pinckney did not seem to hear the question. She was not thinking of
Phyl or her whereabouts. Richard's engagement to Frances Rhett was still
dominating her mind, casting a shadow upon everything. It was like a death
in the family.

"I hope she's not bothered about what happened last night," went on
Richard. "I didn't tell you at the time, but I had--some words with Silas
Grangerson, and--Phyl was there. Silas is a fool, but it's just as well
the thing happened for it has brought matters to a head. I want to tell
you something--I'm not engaged to Frances Rhett."

"Not engaged?"

"I was, but it's broken off. I had a moment's talk with her before we left
last night. I was in a temper about a lot of things, and the business with
Silas put the cap on it. Anyhow, we had words, and the thing is broken
off."

"Oh, dear me," said Miss Pinckney. The joyful shock o