un's sinking. The driver knew many people along the road, and from time
to time he conversed with them in yells.

The two children were opposite Hawker. They sat very correctly mucilaged
to their seats, but their large eyes were always upon Hawker, calmly
valuing him.

"Do you think it nice to be in the country? I do," said the boy.

"I like it very well," answered Hawker.

"I shall go fishing, and hunting, and everything. Maybe I shall shoot a
bears."

"I hope you may."

"Did you ever shoot a bears?"

"No."

"Well, I didn't, too, but maybe I will. Mister Hollanden, he said he'd
look around for one. Where I live----"

"Roger," interrupted the mother from her seat at Hawker's side, "perhaps
every one is not interested in your conversation." The boy seemed
embarrassed at this interruption, for he leaned back in silence with an
apologetic look at Hawker. Presently the stage began to climb the hills,
and the two children were obliged to take grip upon the cushions for
fear of being precipitated upon the nursemaid.

Fate had arranged it so that Hawker could not observe the girl with
the--the--the distance in her eyes without leaning forward and
discovering to her his interest. Secretly and impiously he wriggled in
his seat, and as the bumping stage swung its passengers this way and
that way, he obtained fleeting glances of a cheek, an arm, or a
shoulder.

The driver's conversation tone to his passengers was also a yell. "Train
was an hour late t'night," he said, addressing the interior. "It'll be
nine o'clock before we git t' th' inn, an' it'll be perty dark
travellin'."

Hawker waited decently, but at last he said, "Will it?"

"Yes. No moon." He turned to face Hawker, and roared, "You're ol' Jim
Hawker's son, hain't yeh?"

"Yes."

"I thort I'd seen yeh b'fore. Live in the city now, don't yeh?"

"Yes."

"Want t' git off at th' cross-road?"

"Yes."

"Come up fer a little stay doorin' th' summer?"

"Yes."

"On'y charge yeh a quarter if yeh git off at cross-road. Useter charge
'em fifty cents, but I ses t' th' ol' man. 'Tain't no use. Goldern 'em,
they'll walk ruther'n put up fifty cents.' Yep. On'y a quarter."

In the shadows Hawker's expression seemed assassinlike. He glanced
furtively down the stage. She was apparently deep in talk with the
mother of the children.

CHAPTER II.

When Hawker pushed at the old gate, it hesitated because of a broken
hinge. A dog barked with loud ferocit