ouched by such a man, is a thing
not to be forgotten quickly."

He drank the rest of his liquor at a breath.

"I must go, my dear. I must go."

"What! won't you stop? I want you to stay a little longer."

"Nothing would please me better. But that man is one of a gang. If I
stop here, he may bring seven other devils worse than himself, and the
last end of Benjamin will be worse than the first. I should be waylaid
and killed. And that would be unfortunate."

"Do you suppose they will come here when you have gone?"

"No fear of that, after what I've told him. That man will shun this
house as if it was his grave. Well, good night."

He took Gentle Annie's face between his hands. Then he held her at arms'
length, and gazed steadfastly into her face. And, the next moment, he
was gone.

The girl turned the nuggets over and over with a listless finger. "Men,
men," she murmured, "how madly jealous--and when there is so little
need. As if I care for one a pennyworth more than another."

CHAPTER XXXV.

Bail.

The Pilot of Timber Town sat in his dining-room in the many-gabled
house; Captain Sartoris sat opposite him, and both looked as miserable
as men could possibly look.

"It's a bad business, a terrible bad business," said Captain
Summerhayes, "to be charged with robbery and cold-blooded murder. I was
in the Court. I heard the Resident Magistrate commit him to the Supreme
Court. 'Your Worship,' says Jack, 'on what evidence do you commit me? I
own that I was on the road to Canvas Town, but there is nothing wrong in
that: there is no evidence against me.' An' no more there is. I stake
all I've got on his innocence; I stake my life on it."

"Same here, same here, Summerhayes," said Sartoris. "But I don't see how
that helps him. I don't see it helps him worth tuppence. He's still in
the lock-up."

"It helps 'im this much," said the old Pilot: "he can be bailed out,
can't he?--and we're the men to do it."

"We'd need to be made o' money, man. Ten thousand pound wouldn't bail
'im."

"We'll see, we'll see. Rosebud, my gal!" The Pilot's gruff voice
thundered through the house. "We'll put it to the test, Sartoris; we'll
put it to the test."

Rose Summerhayes hurried from the kitchen; the sleeves of her blouse
tucked up, and her hands and arms covered with flour.

"What is it, father?"

"Young Scarlett's in prison," growled the Pilot, "and there he's likely
to stay till the sitting of the Supreme Court."