. No chance
of its being found by police or any one. It would be a great place.'
Then he went on, enlarging enthusiastically upon his idea. He said, 'A
feller wants to do things right if he's going to beat the law. If I
were running liquor I'd take no chances. I'd run it on a big scale,
and I'd cache my stuff in the cellars under the Meeting House. No one
knows of 'em. I only lit on 'em by chance.

"'Not a soul even suspects they're there. Guess they were used for
caches in the old days. Now, I'd take on the job of looking after the
place, keeping it clean, and all that. That would let me be seen there
without anybody getting suspicious.' All this time his eyes were
watching me shrewdly, speculatively. Then, still pretending, he went
off in another direction. He told me he'd bought a good wagon. He
said, 'I'd keep it here in the corral. It would be better than a
buckboard.' Then I knew for certain that he was aware of my doings.
For I used a buckboard. It was a desperate moment. I waited. All of a
sudden he dropped his mask of lightness, and became serious. I can
never forget his poor, dear face as he gave me his final warning.
'Kate,' he said, 'if there was anybody I--liked, and was anxious
about, running whisky in this place, I'd show them the corral and tell
them what I've told you. You see,' he added ingenuously, 'I'd give my
life for those I like, then how readily would I help them like this.
This is the safest scheme I can think of. And I'm rather proud of it.
Anyways, it's better than keeping disguises kicking around for any one
to find, and caching liquor under bushes.' He had discovered all my
secret. All--how? The thought set me nearly crazy."

"Did you--question him?" The man's voice cut sharply into the
momentary silence.

Kate shook her head.

"No. I couldn't. I don't know why, but I couldn't." She drew a deep
breath. "The next thing I knew was that I was shadowed in all my work,
and I knew that shadow was--Charlie. Here came a memorable day. I
think the devil was in me that day. I remember Charlie came to me. He
smiled in his gentle, boyish fashion. He said, 'No one's adopted my
scheme yet--and I've left the wagon down at the old corral, too.' It
was too much. I laughed. I told him that now no one could ever use his
scheme for I had secured the work--voluntarily--of seeing to the
Meeting House. His response was deadly serious. 'I'm glad,' he said.
'That will end temptation for--others.'"

"He though