ly;
what difference to her, though all the world knew it? Yet she held to her
trust.

"Oh, shore not, Jeff. You cain't _nigh_ talk to him about nothin' like
that," she maintained. "Uncle Jep made me promise that nothin' should be
named to him to excite him."

"Well, then," pursued Jeff, "pappy not bein' here, nor Wade, and Jim Cal
over at Spiller's, an' the gal not havin' no men folks in reach, me an'
Andy has got to look after this thing. Fact is, Blatch sent word that ef
we wanted her we could come over and git her."

"I don't know as we do want her--I don't know as we do," put in Andy.
"And we both promised pappy that we wouldn't set foot on the land whilst
Blatch had it rented."

"Then ag'in," debated Jeff--"Oh, no, buddy, we cain't leave the gal thar.
We're plumb obliged to find out if she wants to come away, anyhow."

Andy turned to his cousin.

"What do you say, Jude? Ort we to go?"

Judith locked her hands hard together and held down her head, fighting
out her battle. She longed to say no. She longed to shout out that Huldah
Spiller might take care of herself, since she had been so unwomanly as to
run after men and bring all this trouble on them. What she did say, at
the end of a lengthened struggle, was:

"Yes, I think both of you ort to go. Can it be did quiet? You got to
think of her good name."

Jeff nodded.

"Well, how air we goin' to be sure that gal's over there?" inquired Andy,
still half reluctant.

"Oh, she's there," returned Judith heavily; and when the boys regarded
her with startled looks, "I ain't seen her, but she's been on the
mountain since Thursday. She's been slippin' over to visit--her--Creed
named it to me then."

"Well that does settle it," Andy concluded. "Reckon Blatch has shut her
up for pure meanness. When was we to go? Was there any time sot?"

"To-night," Jeff informed them. "Any time after ten o'clock'll do--that
was the word I got."

"Well, that'll be all right," agreed Andy; "I can fix Creed up for the
night, and ef we git Huldy away in the dark nobody need know of the
business--not even Bonbright."

A slow flush rose in Judith's pale cheeks. But she offered no comment on
this aspect of the case. She only said:

"Just do what you think best, and don't name it to me again, please."
Then, as both boys looked wonderingly at her, she added haltingly, "I've
got enough to werry over--with a sick man here on my hands, an' Uncle Jep
gone."

She went to her room. Whe