ou take what
you can get and keep your mouth shut or--the devil and I will know why."

And then Morley lifted his head. The look of misery on his pinched
face should have moved one to pity, but it did not move the heart of
Mary Morley.

"What do you mean?" he asked wonderingly. "I--I--didn't follow
all--you said."

"And there's to be no questioning," the voice had grown louder. "No
questions--just take or leave what's offered; go or stay as you please,
but if that brat of yours, God's and his mother's, ever shows his face
near me or mine--I'll"--she laughed hoarsely--"I'll make him a
discredit to you all! Come move up and eat the food I provided and
drink the sour milk that was given you!"

Morley rose unsteadily. He tried to speak and command the situation
that in some subtle way had escaped his control, but he felt bereft and
desperate. Now that Sandy was quite beyond recall, to whom could he
turn? His strength and spirit were crushed and degraded--he moved up
and sullenly took the plate and cup that were pushed toward him! Once
he glanced at Molly. She leered at him over the edge of her mug and
her eyes were hard and cruel.

Martin Morley pushed the untouched food from him and strode to the door
of the cabin. The storm was coming up fast now. The lightning flashed
and the thunder shook the house. Morley's heart ached for the boy
struggling alone and defenceless through the night, but he was glad he
was gone! Whatever lay before of defeat or victory--he thanked God
that the last of his race had had courage at least to make an attempt
for freedom.

The house grew very quiet; Mary had taken Molly to the loft overhead,
and presently Martin heard her deep breathing and the nestling of the
little girl in the straw mattress. The storm passed at last and above
Lost Mountain a bright and glowing star showed through the parting
clouds.

Cautiously Martin whistled and then waited. Night after night this was
his habit. When the others had departed he called Sandy's dog, fed it
from the scraps he could gather, and comforted himself with the
companionship of the faithful collie that was too wise to tempt
Providence when Mary was around.

Martin whistled a second time and then called softly: "Bob! oh--Bob!"

There was no response. Again the man spoke drawlingly and fondly:
"Bob! oh, Bob!" Then he went to the shed near the cabin and looked in.
That had been Sandy's bed-chamber since the rule of Mary had