pon her face. He
thought about Ben, and a feeling of anger smote his heart. What right
had such a cad to have any claim over such a woman as that? he asked
himself. And how could she see anything in Ben to admire? Had they
met near the old tree since the night of the dance? he wondered.

Douglas was startled from his musings by a sudden noise to his left.
Then, in an instant, the forms of two men hurled themselves upon him.
A blow from a stick grazed his head and made him dizzy for a second.
In the twinkling of an eye he realised that this was some of Ben
Stubbles' mean, dirty work, and the thought maddened him. With the
pick-handle he struck vigorously out, and soon had the satisfaction of
knowing that he had settled one of his assailants, by the mournful
groans he heard. Only one man was now left to deal with, and it did
not take long to disarm him. Seeing that he was alone, with his cudgel
knocked spinning from his grasp, he started to run away. Douglas,
however, sprang after him and managed to seize him by the tail of his
coat. To this he held with a bulldog grip while the other struggled
frantically to get away. Finding that his efforts were in vain, and
that he was in danger of being caught, he slipped out of his coat,
leaving it in the hands of his conqueror, and disappeared in the
darkness.

"Come back and get your coat," Douglas shouted. "You might need it
before morning."

Receiving no answer, he began to grope around for the other assailant.
But no sign of him could he find. He had evidently been able to get
away, and Douglas was thankful that he had not killed him, no matter
how much he deserved it.

"Well, that was a surprise party," he muttered. "Luckily for me that
Nell gave me that pick-handle." Then a sudden thought struck him. Did
she suspect anything? Had she heard rumours as to what Ben might do,
and so had given him a weapon of defence? He wondered about this the
rest of the way home. In fact, it pleased him to feel that Nell was
interested in his welfare.

Having reached his own room, he examined his trophy of victory. It was
an old coat, partly covered with mud. He went through the pockets, and
what he found in one gave him much satisfaction. It was a piece of
paper with a few brief instructions scrawled upon it, as follows:

"Get Keezer and be on hand to-night. Bring your sticks with you. Meet
me at the bridge at eight sharp. Ben."

Douglas smiled grimly to hi