e couch. Before you awake I'll be on my way. Keep the
shades drawn; it's my way of saying I do not wish to be disturbed. Good
night, and God bless you, Priscilla."

CHAPTER XII

About two in the morning Farwell set out upon his business for Priscilla.
He left a safe and roaring fire upon the hearth; the window shades he did
not raise, and well he knew that with that signal of desire for privacy
his house would be passed by without apparent notice. The smoke might
curl from the chimney, the dogs might, or might not, materialize, but
with those close-drawn shades the simple courtesy of Kenmore would
protect the master.

Priscilla was sleeping when Farwell silently closed the door after him,
and, followed by his dogs, provided with food and blankets, he
noiselessly took to the shadowy woods. It was a starry, still hour,
lying between night and morning, and it partook of both. Dark it was, but
with that silvery luminosity which a couple of hours later would be
changed to pink glow. The stars shone, and the one great, pulsing planet
that hung over the sleeping village seemed more gloriously near than
Farwell had ever before noticed it. All nature was waiting for the magic
touch of day; soon action and colour and sound would stir; just then the
hush and breathlessness were a strange setting for the lonely man moving
forward into the deeper shadows followed close by his faithful dogs. This
man who, in the mad passion of his blighted youth, had taken life as if
it were but one of the many things over which he claimed supremacy, with
bowed head and slow steps, was going on an errand of mercy; he was going
to claim, for a helpless human creature, assistance from the only man in
all God's world upon whom he could call with hope of success.

The program, the next few days, was as clear in Farwell's mind as if he
had already followed it from start to finish. By eight Pine would be on
his tracks; by noon they would be together, the dogs grumbling and
fighting at their heels. Two nights by the fire, smoking in a dull
silence, broken now and then, in sheer desperation, by Farwell himself.

In Ledyard's plan there had evidently been but one stipulation: the
constant guardianship with explicit reports. Beyond that there seemed to
be no exactions. Farwell had tried to make Pine drink more than was good
for him on various occasions in order to test the metal of the restraint,
but the Indian displayed a wonderful self-control. H