iked and
trusted Norcross, and yet he knew that should Belden find it to his
advantage to slander these young people, and to read into their action
the lawlessness of his own youth, Berea's reputation, high as it was,
would suffer, and her mother's heart be rent with anxiety. In his growing
pain and perplexity he decided to speak frankly to young Norcross
himself. "He's a gentleman, and knows the way of the world. Perhaps he'll
have some suggestion to offer." In his heart he hoped to learn that
Wayland loved his daughter and wished to marry her.

Wayland was down on the bridge leaning over the rail, listening to the
song of the water.

McFarlane approached gravely, but when he spoke it was in his usual soft
monotone. "Mr. Norcross," he began, with candid inflection, "I am very
sorry to say it; but I wish you and my daughter had never started on this
trip."

"I know what you mean, Supervisor, and I feel as you do about it. Of
course, none of us foresaw any such complication as this, but now that we
are snarled up in it we'll have to make the best of it. No one of us is
to blame. It was all accidental."

The youth's frank words and his sympathetic voice disarmed McFarlane
completely. Even the slight resentment he felt melted away. "It's no use
saying _if_," he remarked, at length. "What we've got to meet is Seth
Belden's report--Berrie has cut loose from Cliff, and he's red-headed
already. When he drops onto this story, when he learns that I had to
chase back after the horses, and that you and Berrie were alone together
for three days, he'll have a fine club to swing, and he'll swing it; and
Alec will help him. They're all waiting a chance to get me, and they're
mean enough to get me through my girl."

"What can I do?" asked Wayland.

McFarlane pondered. "I'll try to head off Marm Belden, and I'll have a
talk with Moore. He's a pretty reasonable chap."

"But you forget there's another tale-bearer. Moore's daughter is with
them."

"That's so. I'd forgotten her. Good Lord! we are in for it. There's no
use trying to cover anything up."

Here was the place for Norcross to speak up and say: "Never mind, I'm
going to ask Berrie to be my wife." But he couldn't do it. Something rose
in his throat which prevented speech. A strange repugnance, a kind of
sullen resentment at being forced into a declaration, kept him silent,
and McFarlane, disappointed, wondering and hurt, kept silence also.

Norcross was the first to sp