harp cracking of a forest tree--one of those mysterious
creakings which haunt the woodland night. But there was another sound
too. The trained ears of these men caught its meaning on the instant.
It was the vague and distant sound of wheels upon the soft bed of the
sandy trail.

"A heavy wagon, an'--two hosses," said Buck.

The Padre nodded.

"Coming from the direction of the farm. Sounds like the old team,--and
they're being driven too fast for heavy horses. Joan hasn't got a
saddle-horse of her own."

His last remark explained his conviction, and the suggestion found
concurrence in Buck's mind.

They waited, and the sound grew louder. Then, without a word, Buck
passed out of the room.

A few minutes later the rumble of wheels ceased, and the Padre heard
Buck's voice greeting Joan.

* * * * *

A tragic light shone in Joan's eyes as she stood in the centre of the
room glancing from her lover to his friend. She was searching for an
opening for what she had come to say. Her distraught brain was
overwhelmed with thoughts she could not put into words. She had driven
over with the heavy team and wagon because she had no other means of
reaching these two, and unless she reached them to-night she felt that
by morning her sanity must be gone. Now--now--she stood speechless
before them. Now, her brain refused to prompt her tongue. All was
chaos in her mind, and her eyes alone warned the men of the object of
her coming.

It was the Padre's voice that finally guided her. He read without
hesitation or doubt the object of her mission.

"Yes," he said simply. "I am Moreton Bucklaw, the man accused of your
father's murder."

Suddenly the girl's head drooped forward, and her hands covered her
face as though to shut out the terrible truth which the man's words
conveyed.

"O God!" she cried. "Then she was not lying to me."

Buck's eyes, fierce, almost savage at the sight of the girl's despair,
shot a swift glance at his friend. It was a glance which only the
white-haired man could have understood. To the looker-on it would have
expressed a terrible threat. To the Padre it was the expression of a
heart torn to shreds between love and friendship.

"If she told you I killed him--she was lying."

The man had not raised his tone. There was no other emotion in his
manner than distress for the girl's suffering.

Joan looked up, and a gleam of hope struggled through her despair.

"Then it's