air of the sharp mountain night for company, his thought had left the
Holtons and were seeking (as they almost always were, these days and
nights), his little pupil of the spelling-book, his little burden of the
brush-fire flight. He looked across the mountain-side toward where her
lonely cabin hid in its secluded fastness. There was a late light
to-night ashine from its small window.

"She'll like her," he murmured softly in the night. "She'll _love_ her.
Aunt 'Lethe'll understand!"

And then he wondered just exactly what it was that he felt so very
certain his Aunt 'Lethe would be sure to understand. He did not
understand, himself, precisely what had happened to him, his life-plans,
heart-longings.

Strolling there beneath the stars he gave no thought to poor Joe Lorey,
until, like a night-shadow, the moonshiner stalked along the trail and
passed him. Layson called to him good-naturedly, but the mountaineer
gave him no heed. Frank stood, gazing after him in the soft darkness, in
amazement. Then a quick, suspicious thrill shot through him. The man was
bound up the steep trail toward Madge's cabin. Presently he heard him
calling. He went slowly up the trail, himself.

The girl came quickly from her cabin in answer to the shouting of the
mountaineer.

"What is it, Joe?" she asked.

"I want a word with you. I've come a purpose," Lorey answered sullenly.