wiser to go in and shut the house and put out his
candle, when by stealthy approaches around the lighthouse two persons
stood before him.

"Is Ludlow here?" inquired a voice which he knew.

"I'm here, Jim! Are all the Mormons coming back?"

"Is Rosanne in your house?"

"Rosanne is here; up-stairs with Cecilia. Come inside, Jim. Have you
Elizabeth with you?"

"Yes, I have Elizabeth with me."

The three entered together. Ludlow shut the door and dropped an iron bar
across it. The young men standing opposite were of nearly the same
age; but one was fearless and free and the other harassed and haggard.
Out-door labor and the skill of the fisheries had given to both depth of
chest and clean, muscular limbs. But James Baker had the desperate
and hunted look of a fugitive from justice. He was fair, of the
strong-featured, blue-eyed type that has pale chestnut-colored hair
clinging close to a well-domed head.

"Yes, Rosanne is here," Ludlow repeated. "Now will you tell me how you
got here?"

"I rowed back in a boat."

"Who let you have a boat?"

"There were sailors on the steamer. After I found Rosanne was left
behind I would have had a boat or killed the man that prevented me. I
had to wait out on the lake until it got dark. I knew your wife would
take care of her. I told myself that when I couldn't find any chance to
land in St. James's Bay until sunset."

"She's been hiding in the lumber on the dock all day."

"Did any one hurt her?"

"Evidently not."

The Mormon husband's face cleared with a convulsion which in woman would
have been a relieving burst of tears.

"Sit down, Elizabeth," said the lighthouse-keeper. "You look fit to
fall."

"Yes, sit down, Elizabeth," James Baker repeated, turning to her with
secondary interest. But she remained standing, a tall Greek figure in
bloomers, so sure of pose that drapery or its lack was an accident
of which the eye took no account. She had pushed her soft brown hair,
dampened by the lake, behind her ears. They showed delicately against
the two shining masses. Her forehead and chin were of noble and
courageous shape. If there was fault, it was in the breadth and height
of brows masterful rather than feminine. She had not one delicious
sensuous charm to lure man. Her large eyes were blotted with a hopeless
blankness. She waited to see what would be done next.

"Now I'll tell you," said Baker to his friend, with decision, "I'm not
going to bring the howling Gent