tree's strength, and the leafy top swayed gently toward its fall. Almost
imperceptibly, at first, it moved while Betty Jo watched breathlessly.
Brian swung his ax with increasing vigor, now, while the wood, still
remaining, cracked and snapped as the weight of the tree completed the
work of the chopper. Faster and faster the towering mass of foliage
swung in a wide graceful arc toward the ground. The man with the ax
stepped back, his eyes fixed on the falling tree as, with swiftly
increasing momentum, its great weight swept swiftly downward to its
crashing end.

Betty Jo clapped her hands in triumph; and Brian, turning, saw her
standing there. His face was flushed and glistening with perspiration;
his broad chest heaved with the deep breathing gained by his exertion,
and his eyes shone with the gladness of her presence.

"You are early, to-day!" he cried. "Have you finished? Is it actually
completed?"

"All finished," she returned; and, going to the fallen tree, she put her
hands curiously on the trunk, which lay a little higher than her waist.
"Help me up," she commanded.

Brian set his ax against the stump, and, laughingly, lifted her to the
seat she desired. Then he stood watching her face as she surveyed the
tangled mass of branches.

"It looks so strange from here, doesn't it?" she said.

"Yes; and I confess I don't like to see it that way;" he returned. "I
wish they didn't have to be cut. I feel like a murderer,--every one I