black. His matted hair hung long beneath his
soft felt hat. The child looked up at him with fearless, questioning
glance, then trotted in to her friend.

"Frale, did you see that man lookin' over the fence? You think he was
lookin' for you, Frale? Come see who 'tis. P'r'aps he's a friend of
yours."

"Dorothy, Dorothy," called her mother from the piazza, and the child
bounded away, her puppy yelping and leaping at her side. The tall man
turned at the corner and looked back at the child.

The bishop's place occupied one corner of the block, and the fence with
a hedge beneath it ran the whole length of two sides. Slowly sauntering
along the second side, the gaunt, hungry-eyed man continued his way,
searching every part of the yard and garden, even endeavoring, with
backward, furtive glances, to see into the woodhouse, where in the
darkness Frale crouched, once more pallid with abject fear, peering
through the crack where on its hinges the door swung half open.

As the man disappeared down the straggling village street, Frale dropped
down on the wheelbarrow and buried his haggard face in his hands. A long
time he sat thus, until the dinner-hour was past, and black Carrie had
to send Dorothy to call him. Then he rose, but in the place of the white
and haunted look was one of stubborn recklessness. He strolled to the
house with the nonchalant air of one who fears no foes, but rather
glories in meeting them, and sat himself down at his place by the
kitchen table, where he bantered and badgered Carrie, who waited on him
reluctantly, with contemptuous tosses of her woolly head. From the day
of his first appearance there had been war between them, and now Frale
knew that if the stranger asked her, she would gladly and slyly inform
against him.

The afternoon wore on. Again Frale sat on the wheelbarrow, thinking,
thinking. He took the small bag from his pocket and felt of the bullet
through the thin covering, then replaced it, and, drawing forth another
bag, began counting his money over and over. There it was, all he had
saved, five dollars in bills, and a few quarters and dimes.

He did not like to leave the shelter of the shed, and his eyes showed
only the narrow glint of blue as, with half-closed lids, he still peered
out and watched the street where his enemy had disappeared. Suddenly he
rose and climbed with swift, catlike movements up the ladder stairs
behind him, which led to his sleeping loft. There he rapidly donn