who had assumed something of the attitude of a
prosecuting attorney, the coroner asked, "Has your daughter ever been in
an asylum?"

Although this question plainly disturbed him, Kauffman replied, after a
moment's hesitation, "No, sir."

"Where were you last night?"

"At home."

"Was your daughter there?"

"Yes."

"All the evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure she did not leave the house?"

"Perfectly sure."

The coroner took up a small rifle which the sheriff had leaned against
the wall. "Is this your rifle?"

The old man examined it. "I think so--yes, sir."

"Have you another?"

"No, sir."

"That is all for the present, Mr. Kauffman. Sheriff, ask Miss Kauffman
to come in."

As the woman (without the disfiguring head-dress which she habitually
wore) stepped to the center of the room a murmur of surprise arose from
the jury and the few spectators who were permitted to squat along the
walls. She not only appeared young; she was comely. Her face, though
darkly tanned, was attractive, and her hair, combed rigidly away from
her brow, was abundant and glossy. The line of her lips was firm yet
sweet, and her long, straight nose denoted the excellence of her strain.
Even her hands, reddened and calloused by labor, were well kept and
shapely. But it was through her bearing that she appealed most strongly
to the ranger and the coroner. She was very far from being humble. On
the contrary, the glance which she directed toward Carmody was remote
and haughty. She did not appear to notice the still, sheeted shape in
the corner.

In answer to a query she informed the jury that her name was Helen
McLaren; that she was a native of Kentucky and twenty-six years of age.
"I came to the mountains for my health," she said, curtly.

"You mean your mental health?" queried the coroner.

"Yes. I wanted to get away from the city for a while. I needed rest and
a change."

The coroner, deeply impressed with her dignity and grace, leaned back in
his chair and said: "Now before I ask the next question, Miss McLaren, I
want to tell you that what you say in answer may be used against you in
court, and according to law you need not incriminate yourself. You
understand that, do you?"

"Yes, sir. I think I do."

"Very well. Now one thing more. It is usual in cases of this kind to
have some one to represent you, and if you wish Mr. Hanscom, the forest
ranger, will act for you."

The glance she turned on Hanscom confused him