For four miles they walked over very uneven, rocky ground. Deeper and deeper they went into the mountains. There were hills to climb in places where there was no sign of path or road; there were yawning gulches to cross; dank, stream-filled ca?ons filled with dead and leaning trees to pass through. He felt that she was leading him aright, for her step was firm and her progress rapid and sure. Now and then she would look at the western sky where the presence of the sun was indicated by a somewhat brighter spot than the rest of the dun expanse.

"We really must hurry," she kept saying, "for we\'ll be overtaken by night on our return if we don\'t get to them pretty soon."

"Have you a landmark to guide you?" he asked.

"Yes, there to the left. Do you see that mountain peak? Well, their hiding-place—it is a little cave they know about—is in the thick jungle at the foot of it, on this side. We can\'t go all the way in. It would be impossible. I shall get nearer and whistle for them to come out. They know my whistle. They taught me how to do it when I was little. It is like this," and she clasped her hands together tightly, leaving an orifice between the thumbs into which she blew her breath sharply. A keen whistle was produced. "There is no mistaking it," she continued. "They would know it anywhere. Every pair of hands makes a different sound."

Half an hour later they were on the edge of the dense jungle of which she had spoken. A veritable riot of dank undergrowth was massed beneath giant trees and around green, moss-grown boulders. The greater part of it was a miasmatic swamp, the boggy soil of which could not be walked upon with safety even in dry weather. Mary paused on a spot where the ground was firm and folded her hands. "Be still and listen," she said. "If they are there, they will answer. They will know that I\'d not whistle if it were not safe."

The flutelike note rose on the still air; it was echoed from a near-by cliff and died down. No sound followed. Mary looked perplexed, worried. She whistled again. This time a distant whistle caught up the echo. It was a coarser tone than hers but produced in the same way.

"That\'s Kensy!" she cried, in relief. "Listen! Hear the twigs breaking? He is coming—maybe both. She whistled again, now more softly, and in her excitement tremulously. The sound of bending bushes and the cracking of dry branches was growing nearer.

"Hello, brother!" Mary suddenly cried out. "Here we are. Come on."

"Hello, sis! Who is with you—father?"

"No, Mr. Brown."

The sound of his movements ceased. "Who?" he asked, dubiously.

"Mr. Brown, you know. He is working for us. Come on. It is all right, Kensy."

"Oh!" Kenneth was heard ejaculating. "All right. Coast clear, sis?"

"Yes, yes, Kensy. We\'ve got some food."

"Food, thank God! We are starving, sis. We haven\'t had a bite to eat since the night before we left home." With this he appeared from a clump of weeping willows, and stood before them. She introduced him to Charles. Kenneth simply nodded. He was coatless, without a hat, and besmeared with the dark mud of the morass from head to foot.

"I fell down back there," he said. "My foot slipped while I was on a log. I was wet, anyway. We were away from the cave, trying to kill some birds to eat, and got caught in the rain. Afraid to make a fire, anyway. No matches."

"I have some in a dry box," Charles said. "Won\'t you take them?"

"Never mind. I put plenty of them in the basket," Mary said. "Where is Martin?"

"In the cave. He had his clothes off, trying to dry them, and so I came out alone. He is all right, but acting like a baby. Oh God! what have you got, sis. He had the basket in his muddy hands and was removing the napkin which covered the contents. There he comes now. He couldn\'t wait."

The other boy now appeared, barefooted, his trousers rolled up to his knees. On being introduced he shook hands timidly. He ignored the basket of food. His glaring, dark-ringed eyes rested on his sister\'s face. He panted as he bent toward her. "How is Keith?" he asked.

"Yes, how is he?" Kenneth echoed, glancing up from the contents of the basket.

Charles thought it was significant that Mary hesitated for an instant before replying. "He is just the same as he was—no better, no worse," she answered.

"No better? My God!" Martin seemed to shrink together like a touched sensitive-plant. "Then—then he may die?"

Kenneth had his hands full of baked chicken, but he lowered them and, leaving the food in the basket, he stood up. "Is it as bad as that, sis?" he faltered, his lips betraying a tendency to shake.

"I hate to say so," Mary faltered, "but I must not deceive you and make you reckless. This is the only safe place now." She told them of Albert Frazier\'s aid in misleading his brother.

"He is a good one," Kenneth said, more at ease. "He is sharper any day than his blockhead of a brother. If he stays on our side we\'ll be all right, even—even if—"

"Don\'t say it, Ken!" Martin\'s young mouth was twisted awry. "I can\'t bear it. I can\'t—I simply can\'t!"

Kenneth uttered a forced laugh of defiance. "He is like that all the time," he said. "He didn\'t sleep a wink last night. He cried. He prayed to God and to mother\'s spirit: \'Save Tobe Keith—save Tobe Keith! Don\'t let \'im die!\'"

"It is because I held him," Martin feebly explained. "You see, I had him so he couldn\'t move, and—and when Ken shot I felt his body sort of crumble up and hang limp in my arms. If he dies it will be my fault, for—for he could have dodged the shot but for me. If he dies, sis, it will be my fault and it will mean the rope and the scaffold."

Kenneth had bent to the basket again, but he refrained from taking up the food. He faced his sister. "We\'ll have to stay hid," he said, grimly. "Don\'t offend Albert Frazier, for all you do. He won\'t let his brother find us. Even if he found us, I\'ll bet Albert could keep him from making an arrest. He owes Albert money, I\'ve heard. They always work into each other\'s hands. Albert had some trouble himself once that the sheriff squashed."

Charles was now looking at Mary. There was an expression about her face, and all but swaying body, that was akin to that of her fainting-spell in the field the preceding day. She had locked her hands together and he saw a flare of agony in her tortured eyes. There was a fallen tree near her and she sank down on its trunk and lowered her head. Finally she accomplished what he knew she was trying so hard to do; she mastered her weakness.

"Martin, sit here by me," she said, pleadingly, and the youn............