About noon Charles returned. Mary, at the window of the kitchen, saw him emerge from the wood back of the barn and come toward the house. There was a vague droop of weariness on him of which he seemed unaware. She met him in the front hall; his eyes fell under her stare and he flushed.

"Why did you go?" she asked, reproachfully.

He gave one of his characteristic shrugs and began to fumble in his coat pocket for a note which he finally handed her.

"It is from Martin," he said. "They managed to keep dry last night, I understand. They were glad to get the basket. The water spoiled most of the other things and they were hungry."

She read the note.

    It ran: "Dear Sis,—How sweet and good of you to send Mr. Brown back so quickly! I couldn\'t have stood the suspense any longer. I was afraid Tobe was dead—I thought it all night during that awful rain. I couldn\'t sleep, but maybe I can now. Don\'t let Mr. Brown leave us. He sat and talked to us this morning for an hour, and I\'ve never heard from human lips the sort of things he said. He helped me a lot; he was so kind and gentle and kept putting himself up as a man who had made mistakes and suffered. Oh, he is wonderful, wonderful! Even Ken listened close and seemed affected. He is our friend. He shows that. He wants to help us, and he will if he can. He used to drink, but gave it up; he says it is easy. He has made me decide to act differently in the future—that is, if Tobe lives."

Mary read the rest of the note, folded the paper, and thrust it into the bosom of her dress. Charles stood at the foot of the stairs, his hat in his hand, his boots covered with mud.

"I didn\'t want you to tire yourself out like that," she said, gratefully, "but I\'m glad you went. From this note I see how much good you have done my poor brothers. Now listen to me—I will have my way about this. Go up to your room, take off those damp things and go to bed. I am going to be your nurse for to-day, anyway. I\'ll bring you your lunch and you may take it in bed, and then go to sleep."

He laughed lightly and shrugged his shoulders. "Really, you must not make a baby of a great hulk like me, Miss Rowland. I\'ve been through things ten times as bad as that little walk. I simply couldn\'t eat in bed. I\'ll be down in a few minutes."

She was about to protest, but he left her and ascended the stairs.

Coming down a few minutes afterward, he saw a saddled horse at the gate and heard voices in the parlor.

His spirits sank, for he recognized the horse as the one Albert Frazier had ridden when he had first seen him. He caught a few words the visitor was saying in his gruff, unpolished way.

"You are too high-strung and nervous, little girl. All is well so far. Leave my brother to me. I\'m pulling the wool over his eyes, all right. I\'ve made \'im think the boys are on their way to Texas, and if Tobe lives—"

Unwilling to listen, Charles passed on into the sitting-room. Glancing through the open doorway into the dining-room, he saw that the cloth was not yet spread on the table for luncheon, and he sat down to wait. The voices still came from the parlor, but he did not catch any part of what was being said. Zilla entered the dining-room and spread the cloth on the table. Presently Frazier was heard leaving. His heavy boots clattered on the steps, and the gate-latch clicked as he went out. Then Mary came in. She did not know that he was there and he surprised an unreadable, almost hunted expression on her face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, on seeing him, "so dinner is not ready? Mr. Frazier could not stop. He is working hard to keep the sheriff off my brothers\' track. He says when he left town Tobe Keith was just the same. The doctors at Carlin are afraid to probe for the—the ball. They have held a consultation, and agreed that the great specialist, Doctor Elliot of Atlanta, might operate and save him. They refuse to undertake it themselves."

"Then this Doctor Elliot ought to come and see him," Charles said.

"But Doctor Elliot is so busy that he never leaves Atlanta, except in instances where enormous fees are paid. The Carlin doctors say that Tobe ought to be taken to him. They say it would be safe to move him that distance."

"Then he must be moved," said Charles.

"Yes, he must go," Mary agreed. "The only thing is that it will cost considerable. You see, Tobe and his mother (she is a widow) are awfully poor. Yes, the money must be gotten up, and I must get it."

"You?" Charles cried. "Why should you?"

"Because no one else will do it. Even my father has the silly idea that we ought not to have anything to do with it, because it would look as if we admitted the boys\' guilt. That is rubbish. A man\'s life—three lives—are at stake. Yes, I must raise four hundred dollars. They say it will cost that much, including transportation, nurses, and the like. I may be able to borrow it from some one, but we are hard run. Father is over his head in debt. I know where I can get the money—in fact, it has been offered to me already—but I don\'t like to take it. I have my reasons for—for not wanting to take it."

"It was offered you this morning—not many minutes ago," Charles said, fiercely and impulsively.

She looked up in mild surprise at his tone and the rebellious glare in his eyes, and then said, slowly and wonderingly:

"Why do you think that?"

"I don\'t know, but I am sure of it," he blurted from the depths of his restrained passion. "Something tells me that this Mr. Frazier wants to furnish it, and also that you shrink from being in his debt."

Mary avoided his desperate gaze. "You are a great reader of minds," she faltered. "Many men would make me angry by saying what you are saying, but I can\'t be offended with you. It is strange, but nothing you could do or say would annoy me. Well, you are right. As I told you once, Mr. Frazier and I are not actually engaged. Somehow, I want to be free in that way a little longer. I\'m so young, you know, that marriage does not appeal to me yet. Mr. Frazier has helped my father raise money in several instances, but I have never felt that those transactions bound me in any way; but I know, and he feels, that this particular offer of his—" Her voice sank and trailed away into inaudibility.

"That if you accepted this offer it would be binding?" Charles threw into the gap.

It seemed to him that she flushed slightly. She was very erect, very stately. Somehow he thought of her as a captured young queen suffering under the indignities of her enemies. She made no answer, and, leaning toward her, he repeated his words even more earnestly and in greater agitation.

"Yes, as I look at it, the acceptance would bind me," she finally gave out. "I could not take the money otherwise, for I simply have no way of paying. He put it that way himself; that he was as much interested in my brothers as I, because, in a sense, they would be his brothers."

Charles was pale; he was trembling; he knew that his voice was unsteady, for his whole being was surcharged with a passion which his reason could not justify, and which his sheer helplessness only intensified.

"You must not accept his money; you must not bind yourself," he cried.

"Why?" she asked, with the half-eager look even a desperate woman may wear when facing the evidence of a man\'s growing passion for her.

"Because you don\'t love him," was the reply which further fed her curiosity as to his trend of thought. "You couldn\'t love such a man. He is incapable of appreciating you. For two such persons to marry would be a crime against the holiest laws of the universe."

"I can\'t quite agree with you," she replied, as she slowly shook her proud head. "You see, Mr. Brown, there are things more important than even mar............