unds within told her that the men were
groping their way to the door. As she stood concealed by darkness, they
issued, made their quiet adieux, and went over to the fence where she
could hear the stamping of the tethered animals. Cut off from the house,
she retreated swiftly down the path toward the stable and would have
entered, but some instinct warned her back. As she paused uncertain,
hearing footsteps approaching from behind, indefinably sure that there
was danger in front, there sounded a cautious low whistle. Those who came
from the cabin answered it. She drew back beneath one of the peach-trees
by the milking-pen--the very one from which Creed had broken the
blossoming switch, with which she reproached him. Flat against its trunk
she crouched, as six men went past her in the gloom.

"Who's here?" demanded a voice like Blatch Turrentine's, and at the sound
she began suddenly to shudder from head to foot. Then she pulled herself
together. This was no ghost talking. It was the man himself.

"Me," answered Jim Cal's unmistakable tones, "an' Wade, an' Jeff, an'
Andy. Buck and Taylor's both with us--and that's all."

The man within opened the grain-room door, and the six newcomers
entered.

"Whar's old man Broyles, an' Hawk an' Chantry?" questioned Blatch.

"They rid off home," said Shalliday.

"Well, what does Unc' Jep say?" demanded Blatch, plainly not without some
anxiety.

Before anyone could answer,

"Hark ye!" came Jim Cal's tones tremulously. "Didn't I hear somebody
outside? Thar--what was that?"

In her excitement and interest Judith had moved nearer with some noise.

"I vow, podner," came Blatch's rich, rasping tones. "Ef I didn't know it
was you I'd be liable to think they was a shiverin' squinch-owl in here
with us. Buck, step out and scout, will ye? Git back as soon as ye can,
'caze we're goin' to have a drink."

She heard the rattle of a tin cup against the jug. As she moved carefully
down the way toward the spring, Blatch's voice followed her, saying
unctuously:

"Had to go through hell to get this stuff--spies a-follerin' ye about,
an' U.S. marshals a-threatenin' ye with jail--might as well enjoy it."

She dipped her bucket in the spring branch, and bore it dripping up the
path a short way. If Buck Shalliday met her, she had an errand and an
excuse for her presence which might deceive him. When she came within
sight of the stables once more she set down her bucket and stood
listening lon