ped.

"No--dead. Many years ago. Out West."

"Tsch!" he breathed, the air whistling between his teeth, "Out West, ye
say--out West?"

He stood in front of Beth now, his arms akimbo, his head bent forward
under the stress of some excitement. Beth drew away from him, but he
came forward after her, his gaze still seeking hers.

"Yes--out West," said Beth haltingly.

"Where?" he gasped.

"I don't know----"

"Was his name--was his name--Ben Cameron?" He shot the question at her
with a strange fury, catching meanwhile at her arm.

"Let me go----," she commanded. "You're hurtin' me."

"Was it----?"

"Yes. Let me go."

The stranger's grip on her arm suddenly relaxed and while she watched
his face in curiosity the glow in his eyes suddenly flickered out, his
gaze shifting from side to side as he seemed to shrink away from her.
From timidity at his roughness she found new courage in her curiosity at
his strange behavior. What had this stranger to do with Ben Cameron?

"What did you want to know for?" she asked him.

But his bent brows were frowning at the path at his feet. He tried to
laugh--and the sound of the dry cackle had little mirth in it.

"No matter. I--I thought it might be. I guess ye'd better go--I guess
ye'd better." And with that he sank heavily in Peter's chair again.

But Beth still stood and stared at him, aware of the sudden change in
his attitude toward her. What did it all mean? What were Peter's
relations with this creature who behaved so strangely at the mention of
her name? Why did he speak of Ben Cameron? Who was he? Who----?

The feeling of which she had at first been conscious, at the man's evil
leering smile which repelled her suddenly culminated in a pang of
intuition. This man ... It must be ... Hawk Kennedy--the man who ... She
stared at him with a new horror in the growing pallor of her face and
Hawk Kennedy saw the look. It was as though some devilish psychological
contrivance had suddenly hooked their two consciousnesses to the same
thought. Both saw the same picture--the sand, the rocks, the blazing sun
and a dead man lying with a knife in his back.... And Beth continued
staring as though in a kind of horrible fascination. And when her lips
moved she spoke as though impelled by a force beyond her own volition.

"You--you're Hawk Kennedy," she said tensely, "the man who killed my
father."

"It's a lie," he gasped, springing to his feet. "Who told you that?"

"I--I guessed i