"Please sit down again,
Mr. Young.... Set on the floor, Andy!"

Obediently the dwarf curled up on the floor and turned eagerly to Young
who had resumed his chair.

"Ain't Tess got the fine baby?" he queried, and as though not expecting
an answer, added, "And she air awful happy."

A fugitive smile trembled on Young's face.

Awful happy! Awful happy! Was it possible? He looked into Tessibel's
joyous eyes and pondered. Yes, she was happy. He could see that! Happy
in a squatter's hut! Happy in the companionship of a condemned murderer,
and happy with a nameless child! His eyes went to the little one on the
chair. Yes, the three of them were happy. Tessibel's love was bound up
in Andy and the baby, and the dwarf had forgotten his own danger to
serve the other two. To help in the same loyal and unselfish way would
be his future work. At that moment Deforrest Young buried deep in his
heart the passion which hurt like nothing else hurts on earth, and
something very like happiness took its place.

He leaned back and crossed his legs. Then he reached into his coat
pocket and produced his cigar case. He bent forward and offered it to
Andy.

"Smoke, Andy?" he queried.

"Nope, thank ye, sir. Hain't smoked since Pal Skinner got sick. Couldn't
smell up the shanty with a pipe, ye see, eh?"

When the cigar was glowing and the fragrant smoke drifted in eddying
clouds through the kitchen, the smoker rocked a few minutes
contemplatively.

"I've seen Owen Bennet," he began presently. "He sticks to the story
that you did the shooting, Bishop, but I knew all the time he was
lying."

"Yep, he lied," interpolated Andy, bobbing his head.

"But as long as he won't tell the truth," Young stated "you're liable to
be taken back to Auburn."

The dwarf cringed as from a blow. Fear of going back to prison killed
the joy in his face instantly, but the speaker's quick assurance
straightened the bent shoulders.

"But no one knows where you are, and perhaps something can be done to
bring a confession from Bennet. Just at this time, though," looking from
the little man to the girl on the cot, "I'm more concerned about your
futures."

Tess didn't speak. She knew wherein her confidence lay and was willing
to await her friend's suggestion. She sat up, punched the pillow, turned
it over, and lay down again.

"It's perfectly evident you can't stay here, either one of you," said
Young, after a pause, "and if you'll be guided by me--"

"We