hand, and we meet a fellow creature who speaks nine words, and begrudges
those. If he's as stingy with money as with language she's hard a narrow
escape."

"He's had kind of a raw deal," Bill put in. "The girl was stuck on him
all right, until this moving-picture chap came along. He offered to take
some pictures with her in them, and it was all off. They're making up a
play now, and she's to be in it."

"What sort of a play?" Tish demanded.

"Sorry not to oblige," Bill replied. "Can't say the nature of it."

But all of us felt that Bill knew and would not say.

Tish, to whom a mystery is a personal affront, determined to find out
for herself; and when later in the evening we saw the light of Bell's
camp-fire, it was Tish herself who suggested that we go over and visit
with him.

"We can converse about various things," she said, "and take his mind
from his troubles. But it would be better not to mention affairs of the
heart. He's probably sensitive."

So we left Bill to look after things, and went to call on Mr. Bell. It
was farther to his camp than it had appeared, and Tish unfortunately ran
into a tree and bruised her nose badly. When it had stopped bleeding,
however, we went on, and at last arrived.

He was sitting on a log by the fire, smoking a pipe and looking very