ready to share his trials, and in what must be the scene of their work
hereafter.

"It will bring father back," said Christie; "he won't leave us here
alone; and then together we must come to some understanding with
him--with THEM--for somehow I feel as if this house belonged to us no
longer."

Her surmise was not far wrong. When Mr. Carr arrived hurriedly from
Sacramento the next evening, he found the house deserted. His daughters
were gone; there were indications that they had arrived, and, for some
reason, suddenly departed. The vague fear that had haunted his guilty
soul after receiving their letter, and during his breathless journey,
now seemed to be realized. He was turning from the empty house, whose
reproachful solitude frightened him, when he was confronted on the
threshold by the figure of Fairfax Munroe.

"I came to the stage office to meet you," he said; "you must have left
the stage at the summit."

"I did," said Carr angrily. "I was anxious to meet my daughters quickly,
to know the reason of their foolish alarm, and to know also who had been
frightening them. Where are they?"

"They are safe in the old cabin beyond, that has been put up ready to
receive them again," said Fairfax quietly.

"But what is the meaning of this? Why are they not here?" demanded Carr,
hiding his agitation in a burst of querulous rage.