thie's father kept the
tavern at St. Gabriel's Fork, over against the great saw-mill. Fingall
was foreman of a gang in the lumberyard. Cynthie had a brother--Fenn.
Fenn was as bad as they make, but she loved him, and Fingall knew it
well, though he hated the young skunk. The girl's eyes were like two
little fire-flies when Fingall was about.

"He was a gentleman, though he had only half a name--Fingall--like
that. I think he did not expect to stay; he seemed to be waiting
for something--always when the mail come in he would be there; and
afterwards you wouldn't see him for a time. So it seemed to me that he
made up his mind to think nothing of Cynthie, and to say nothing."

"Fingall! Fingall!--Oh, Fingall!"

The strange, sweet, singing voice sounded nearer. "She's coming this
way, Pierre," said Lawless.

"I hope not to see her. What is the good!"

"Well, let us have the rest of the story."

"Her brother Fenn was in Fingall's gang. One day there was trouble. Fenn
called Fingall a liar. The gang stopped piling; the usual thing did not
come. Fingall told him to leave the yard, and they would settle some
other time. That night a wicked thing happened. We were sitting in the
bar-room when we heard two shots and then a fall. We ran into the other
room; there was Fenn on the floor, dying. He lifted himself on his
elbow, pointed at Fingall--and fell back. The father of the boy stood
white and still a few feet away. There was no pistol showing--none at
all.

"The men closed in on Fingall. He did not stir--he seemed to be thinking
of something else. He had a puzzled, sorrowful look. The men roared
round him, but he waved them back for a moment, and looked first at the
father, then at the son. I could not understand at first. Someone pulled
a pistol out of Fingall's pocket and showed it. At that moment Cynthie
came in. She gave a cry. By the holy! I do not want to hear a cry like
that often. She fell on her knees beside the boy, and caught his head
to her breast. Then with a wild look she asked who did it. They had just
taken Fingall out into the bar-room. They did not tell her his name, for
they knew that she loved him.

"'Father,' she said all at once, 'have you killed the man that killed
Fenn?'

"The old man shook his head. There was a sick colour in his face.

"'Then I will kill him,' she said.

"She laid her brother's head down, and stood up. Someone put in her hand
the pistol, and told her it was the same that