ould be her part to
play!

When Mary reached the clearing on Thunder Peak she stood where Nancy had
stood the day before and took in the scene.

Two or three times, after her return to The Gap, she had gone to The
Peak and searched among the dirt and rubbish for any trace of old Becky.
She had come to believe, at last, that the woman was dead--she had never
been seen after the death of Sister Angela.

It was years now since Mary had given a thought to the deserted garden
and cabin--the clearing was at the trail's end and no one ever took it,
for it led nowhere.

But now, to Mary's astonished eyes, the garden appeared almost as well
planted as her own, and from the chimney of the tumble-down cabin a lazy
curl of smoke rose. Under the dark pine clump the outlines of a narrow
mound could be plainly seen, and beside it lay a spade and a spray of
withered azaleas.

Mary's throat was dry and painful. People to whom tears are possible
never know the agony, but Mary was used to it.

Presently she walked across the open that lay between the edge of the
forest and the cabin and stood by the threshold.

The door hung by one hinge, and through the gap Mary saw old Becky! She
had hoped against hope that what she had told Nancy might be true, but
she was prepared for the worst.

It seemed incredible that this poor, wretched skeleton by the hearth
could be Becky--but Mary knew that it was. Back from her wandering the
pitiful creature had come--home!

She had come as Mary herself had come--because the call of the hills
never dies, but grows with absence.

"Aunt Becky!"

The crone by the hearth paused in her stirring of corn-meal in a pan,
but did not turn.

"Aunt Becky!" And then the old woman staggered to her feet and faced
Mary.

Not yet was the fire dead in the deep sockets--from out the caverns the
last sparks of life were making the eyes terrible.

"Yo'--Mary Allan!" Contempt, more than fear, rang in the tones. "What
yo' spyin' on me for, Mary Allan?"

Mary went inside. She was relieved by the fact that Becky knew her--she
had feared that she would find no response. She did not intend to
question or argue; she meant to control the situation from the start.

"Hit's in the grave 'long o' Zalie!" Becky was on her defence.
"Zalie"--here the befogged brain went under a cloud--"Zalie she come
a-looking--but hit's in the grave! I tell yo'-all, hit's in the grave!"

The trembling creature wavered in the firelight. S