same, Crothers, and I'd like to add, that in any
clash please remember you are up against me--not Sandford Morley."

"I'm not likely to forget that, sir."

There was a little more talk, pro and con, and then the two men parted
as men can do, after a heated and vital discussion, apparently on the
best of terms.

It was the night of that day when, before the fire in the little
sitting-room devoted to the Markhams' use, Levi sought to ease his
sister's mind concerning Sandy.

"The boy was up against it with Crothers," he explained, "and making no
outcry. You know Sandy's way. He wouldn't confide in us about that
poor little sister of his--he thought it wasn't in the bargain. He
meant to fight this big bully in his own fashion without calling on me,
but I've taken a hand in the game and put Crothers wise as to
principles. I may have to get a few knocks before I am done, but Sandy
won't be the buffer. I guess the boy will pick up from now on. He's
nervy and stronger than he looks."

Matilda sat in her low, broad rocker. Her dressing gown of pale violet
enshrouded her tiny figure like the soft petals of a flower; her faded
eyes and gentle face were lowered, and her gaze fixed upon the burning
logs.

"Brother," she said tenderly and wistfully; "the boy has had a mortal
hurt. This evil man has not dealt it, and neither you nor I can cure
it. It has not killed his mind and spirit, but it's killed the heart
of the lad."

Levi Markham got up and stood with his back to the fire. He was going
to be enlightened--he knew that--but in man fashion he pushed the
inevitable from him.

"Whim-whams, 'Tilda! Now what do you mean in plain American? Who's
given the boy a blow--a hurt, or whatever you fancy?"

"It's the--the little girl, brother, that Land has run away with."

"Good God, Matilda!"

"Levi, I do wish you would curb your language. You know how I dislike
profanity."

"I beg your pardon, 'Tilda."

"While you have been sensing business conditions, brother, I've sensed
something else. I've sort of gathered this Cynthia Walden up piece by
piece. The old woman who works here gave me a bit; that dear little
woman doctor--the aunt of the girl--has told me some of the story; from
Martin Morley I've taken a mite. Little by little it has come to me,
until I've patched the whole together and I can see real plain and
clear, now, the spirit of Lost Hollow that led Sandy out and up and
then--escaped to a place