knife fell from her hand.

"That'th quite enough for a thow," he said, with a return to his former
cynical ease and a perceptible tone of relief in his voice. "It'th the
thame old Theretha. Well, then, if you won't go with me, go without me;
take the led horthe and cut away. Dick Athley and Petereth will follow
you over the county line. If you want thome money, there it ith." He
took a buckskin purse from his pocket. "If you won't take it from me"--he
hesitated as she made no reply--"Athley'th flush and ready to lend you
thome."

She had not seemed to hear him, but had stooped in some embarrassment,
picked up the knife and hastily hid it, then with averted face and
nervous fingers was beginning to tear strips of loose bark from the
nearest trunk.

"Well, what do you thay?"

"I don't want any money, and I shall stay here." She hesitated, looked
around her, and then added, with an effort, "I suppose you meant well.
Be it so! Let by-gones be by-gones. You said just now, 'It's the same
old Teresa.' So she is, and seeing she's the same she's better here than
anywhere else."

There was enough bitterness in her tone to call for Curson's
half-perfunctory sympathy.

"That be d--d," he responded quickly. "Jutht thay you'll come, Tita,
and--"