able became for the first time obscure and suggestive. Then the
words of Alice's song rang in his ears and a thrill of joy quivered
through him.

Again the hide-out repeated the question.

"Wouldn't ye, Mr. Thayor?"

Thayor turned his head and faced the hide-out.

"Yes," he said slowly, between his clenched teeth; "I would have
killed him too, Mr. Dinsmore."

"And yet they say I ain't fit to live 'mong men," murmured the thin
voice, grown fainter from speaking. "God knows they've made me suffer
for what I done."

"Where is she?" asked Thayor, a certain tenderness creeping into his
voice.

There was no reply.

"Have you no news of your wife?"

"I dunno; I ain't never laid eyes on her since," he answered wearily.
"I can't even ask no one; father said he heard she was in Montreal,
where Bergstein had some hold on her. I'd have took her back if I'd
been free. 'T won't never be no use now--I won't never be free, Mr.
Thayor."

Again silence fell upon the group; each one was occupied with his
own thoughts. The old man had slouched closer and had settled himself
beside his son, his hand on the outcast's knee. Thayor's voice broke
the silence.

"Where are these men you ran across, Dinsmore?" he asked abruptly, a
ring of determination in his voice.

"'Bout eight mile from here, I figger it--in a holler southeast of
Alder Swamp," answered the hide-out, returning to a sense of his
surroundings.

"And you say they were camped?"

"Yes, I see them cut some timber for a lean-to. Like as not they
cal'lated to make it a kind of headquarters for a day or so, strikin'
off by twos to find ye. That's what I come to tell ye; I didn't want
ye to be took. I knowed I'd find ye if I kep' on--I'm more used than
most of 'em to travellin' in the dark."

"Could you find them again, Dinsmore?"

"Yes, but I'd hev to be twice as keerful. It'd be all up with me if
they was to see me."

"I will take care of that," replied Thayor briskly.

"What do ye mean?" stammered Dinsmore.

"I mean that you shall take me to them to-morrow."

"But I ain't goin' to let ye risk yer life if I--"

"I mean what I say, Dinsmore. I start at daylight."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Before sunrise the next morning two men were seen by a circling hawk
moving steadily southeast. The man leading stopped now and then
to glance carefully about him; in these pauses he studied the
ground--often a weed trodden down in dew turned their course abruptly.
A