that Scarlet Hunter, or red devil, or whatever he is, till I drop, if the
Honourable gives the word. For flesh and blood I'm not afraid of; and
the other we come to, whether we will or not, one day."

But Trafford said: "No, we'll let it stand where it is for the present.
Something has played our eyes false, or we're brought here to do work
different from buffalo-hunting. Where that arrow fell among the smoke
we must go first. Then, as I read the riddle, we travel back the way we
came. There are points in connection with the Pipi Valley superior to
the hills of the Mighty Men."

They rode away across the glade, and through a grove of pines upon a
hill, till they stood before a log but with parchment windows.

Trafford knocked, but there was no response. He opened the door and
entered. He saw a figure rise painfully from a couch in a corner,--the
figure of a woman young and beautiful, but wan and worn. She seemed
dazed and inert with suffering, and spoke mournfully: "It is too late.
Not you, nor any of your race, nor anything on earth can save him. He is
dead--dead now."

At the first sound of her voice Trafford started. He drew near to her,
as pale as she was, and wonder and pity were in his face. "Hester," he
said, "Hester Orval!"

She stared at him like one that had been awakened from an evil dream,
then tottered towards him with the cry,--"Just, Just, have you come to
save me? O Just!" His distress was sad to see, for it was held in deep
repression, but he said calmly and with protecting gentleness: "Yes, I
have come to save you. Hester, how is it you are here in this strange