little sadly, Auntie Sue
thought. "Life itself is so strange and complex, though you in your
quiet retreat, here, can scarcely find it so."

"Indeed, I find life very wonderful, Mr. Ross, even here in my little
house by the river," she answered, slowly.

Sheriff Knox held out a newspaper to Auntie Sue: "Just happened to
remember that I had it in my pocket," he said. "It gives a pretty full
account of this fellow Kent's case. You will notice there is a big
reward offered for his capture. If you can catch him for us, you'll make
enough money to keep you mighty nigh all the rest of your life." And
the officer's great laugh boomed out at the thought of the old
school-teacher as a thief-catcher.

"By the way, Sheriff," said Auntie Sue, as they were finally saying
good-bye at the door, "you didn't happen to ask at Thompsonville for my
mail, did you, as you came through?" Her voice was trembling, now, with
eagerness and anxiety.

"I'm plumb sorry, Auntie Sue, but I didn't. You see, we were so busy
on this job, I clean forgot about stopping here; and, besides, we might
have caught our man before we got this far, you see."

"Of course," returned Auntie Sue, "I should have thought of that; but
I have been rather anxious about an important letter that seems to have
been delayed. Some of the neighbors will probably be going to the office
to-day, though. Good-bye! You know you are always welcome, Sheriff; and
you, too, Mr. Ross, if you should ever happen to be in this part of the
country again."

"A wonderful old woman, Ross," commented Sheriff Knox as they were
riding away. And the quiet, business-looking detective, whose life
had been spent in combating crime and deception, answered, as he waved
farewell to Auntie Sue, who watched them from the door of the little log
house by the river, "A very wonderful woman, indeed,--the loveliest old
lady I have ever met,--and the most remarkable."

CHAPTER VIII.

THAT WHICH IS GREATER THAN THE LAW.

When she had watched Sheriff Knox and his two companions ride out of
sight, Auntie Sue turned slowly back into the house to face Judy, who
stood accusingly in the kitchen doorway.

For what seemed a long time, the old gentlewoman and the deformed
mountain girl stood silently looking at each other. Then Auntie Sue
nervously crossed the room to lay the newspaper, which the Sheriff had
given her, on the table beside her basket of sewing.

Without speaking, Judy followed her, watc