and a red flush came over his livid face.

"Tell who stabbed you."

Lot smiled feebly, but he did not speak.

Margaret Bean came in, with her old husband shuffling at her heels. A
great face, bristling with a yellow stubble of beard, appeared in the
door. It belonged to the sheriff, Jonas Hapgood, who had just
returned from taking Burr to New Salem. Madelon cast a desperate
glance around at them. "Lot Gordon," she cried out, "tell them--tell
them I was the one who stabbed you, and set Burr free!"

There was a chuckle from Jonas Hapgood in the door. "Likely story,"
he muttered to Margaret Bean's husband, and the old man nodded
wisely.

"Tell them!" commanded Madelon. She reached out a hand as if she
would shake Lot Gordon into obedience, wounded unto death although he
was, but Lot only smiled up in her face.

Then David Hautville bent his stern face down to the sick man's. "Lot
Gordon, tell the truth before God, daughter of mine or no daughter of
mine," said he, in his deep voice. Lot only followed Madelon with his
longing, smiling eyes.

"Speak, Lot Gordon!"

The wounded man turned his eyes on David and made a feeble motion,
scarcely more than a quiver of his hand, which seemed to express
negation.

"Can't you speak?"

Again Lot made that faint signal.

"He ain't spoke sence they brought him home," said Margaret
Bean--"not a word to the doctor nor nobody."

"I couldn't get a word out of him," announced the sheriff, stepping
farther into the room. "In course, there was Burr's knife and Burr
himself over him when the others came up, and that was proof enough;
but still we kinder thought we'd like to have Lot's word for it afore
he died, in case it came to hangin' with Burr; but I guess he's past
speakin'. I miss my guess if he can sense anything we say."

"Tell them--tell them I was the one who stabbed you, and Burr is
innocent!" Madelon pleaded; but he smiled back at her unmoved.

Jonas Hapgood's great body shook with mirth. "Likely story a gal did
it," he chuckled.

"I did do it!" returned Madelon, fiercely, turning to him.

"I guess you don't want your beau hung."

"I tell you I killed this man. I am the one to be hung!"

Chapter V

The sheriff turned to David Hautville. "Guess you'd better take your
gal home," he said, his red, bristling cheeks broad with laughter.
"Guess she's kind of off her balance, she feels so bad about her
beau."

David's black eyes flashed haughtily at Jonas