enraged. Both sentiments fused into keener hatred of Toyner; but she
remembered--yes, even then she remembered quite clearly and
distinctly--that if the worst came to the worst and she could save her
father in no other way, she had one weapon in reserve, one in which she
had perfect faith.

It was for this reason that she sat still for a minute in the boat,
looking up at Toyner, trying to pry into his attitude toward her. At the
end of the minute he put out his hand to lift her up, and she leaned
upon it.

Without hesitation she began to thread her way through the wood toward
home, and he walked by her side. He might have been escorting her from a
dance, so quietly they walked together, except that the question of a
man's life or death which lay between them seemed to surround them with
a strange atmosphere.

At length Bart spoke. "I don't know where you have been," he said. "I
have been patrolling the shore all night." He paused awhile. "I thought
you were safe at home."

She stopped short and turned upon him. "Look here! what are you going to
do now? It's a pretty mean sort of business this you've taken to,
sneaking round your old friends to do them all the harm you can."

"It's the first time I knew that you'd ever been a friend of mine, Ann."
He said this in a sort of sad aside, and then: "You've sense enough to
know that when a man shoots another man he's got to be found and shut up
for the good of the country and for his own good too. It's the kindest
thing that can be done to a man sometimes, shutting him up in jail." He