lled Judith down to the draw-bars to talk to
him. When he had her there at such disadvantage, he so pertinaciously
urged his unwelcome suit that he made her finally glad to be rid of the
children, to see him, when Venters was once more well, take them away
with him and give her respite from his importunities.

In the case of Wade, too, the fat man's pessimistic expectations were
realised; the young man did, early in August, dash out and secure a place
on the railroad. Mountain people write few letters. They heard nothing
from him after the first message which told them where he was employed
and what wages he was to have.

It was September when Iley announced to Judith that she had word from
some of Pap Spiller's kin who were living in Garyville, that
acquaintances of theirs from Hepzibah, coming down to the circus at the
larger town, had given them roundabout and vague news of Huldah. The girl
had delayed in Hepzibah but a few days. The story as it came up on the
mountain was that she had married "some feller from Big Turkey Track, and
gone off on the railroad."

"Them Tuels is mighty po' hands to remember names," Iley said. "But all
ye got to do is to look around and take notice of anybody that's gone
from Big Turkey Track here lately. Ye can fix it to suit yo'se'f. But I
reckon Huldy has made a good match, and I'm satisfied."

Judith looked upon the floor in silence. In silence she left the cabin
and took her way to her own home. And that night, while the cedar tree
talked to her in the voice of love--Creed's voice--she fought with
dragons and slew them, and was slain by them.

When Blatchley Turrentine had asserted this thing to her at Garyville,
she found somewhere--after her first gust of unreasoning resentment was
past--strength to disbelieve it utterly. But now it came again in more
plausible guise. It gained likeliness from mere repetition. And hardest
of all to bear, she was totally unsupported in her trust. She knew Creed,
knew his love for her; yet to cling to it was to fly in the face of
probabilities, and of everything and everybody about her. The lover who
is silent, absent from her who loves him, at such a time, runs tremendous
risks.

It was the set or turn of the year's tide; sunsets were full, rich,
yellow, and a great round, golden moon swung in the evening sky above the
purple hills. A soft, purring monotone of little tree crickets in the
night forest replaced the shriller insect chorus of mids