hing just the same, don't you think?"

She did not reply at once; and Smythe discreetly busied himself
tossing stones at an impertinent chipmunk that popped in and out among
the rocks and fallen limbs.

"Have you seen this Mrs. Higgins?" asked Marion suddenly.

"No," Smythe answered gravely, though his eyes twinkled wickedly. "But
Higgins is sixty at least, and I fancy his wife's too old to be--" A
warning look checked him. "But really, Miss Gaylord, you ought not to
jump down my throat after I've brought you such an interesting knot
for your pretty hands to untie."

She laughed at his lugubrious countenance, then stood up, and reached
out a hand to him, letting him hold it for just a breath of time.

"No, you're a good friend. I know it."

"I'm not very deep," he said, with a touch of dejection. "Nobody ever
takes me very seriously. But I hope you'll trust me!"

"Indeed I will! But come! We must go back."

So they went slipping and sliding down the hill, digging their heels
into the ground, clinging to rocks and trees to check their swift
descent, laughing at their wild plunges and gyrations. At the house,
when they had rested a while on the veranda, Marion dismissed Smythe
as quickly as she could without abruptness; and when he had gone she
hastened to her room, and locked the door, and flung herself down on
the bed, with her hands clasped behind her head, to stare up at the
ceiling in a whirl of thoughts. There was a mystery! There was a
motive behind Haig's conduct! "The most unselfish man in the world"
And she repeated the words over and over again, and gathered them to
her heart.

CHAPTER XI

AVALANCHE

Huntington soon had his revenge on Marion, though, in his blindness,
he never knew it. She and Claire, after an unusually protracted Small
Talk the night before, arose late one morning to find the house
topsy-turvy from masculine activity. On the veranda they discovered
Seth cleaning rifles, surrounded by cartridge boxes, hunting knives,
canvas bags and wrappings, rubber coats, leather straps, fishing
tackle and what not.

"In the name of goodness, Seth Huntington! What are you doing?"
shrilled Claire.

"Guess!" replied Huntington, with a rather heavy attempt at
tantalizing.

"Oh, I know! Camping. But you don't mean to-day?"

"Sure!"

"But why didn't you ask us?" demanded Claire. "Maybe we don't
choose--"

"But you do, though. I promised Marion that as soon as I--"

He stopped, for