the conversation was taking a dangerous shape. harvey saw that it would not do for him to stay. both these men were fierce enough to fly at his throat. that little cabin in the woods was liable to become the scene of a tragedy unless he bridled his tongue or went away.

disdaining to say so much as "good-night," he rose to his feet, opened the door, shut it behind him, and walked out in the blustery darkness.

"i would rather spend the night fighting tigers than to keep the company of such miscreants. but the new hands will be here in a few days, and the fellows will be taught a lesson which they will remember all their lives. i suppose i ought to pity their dupes, but they should have enough sense to see that these men are their worst enemies. it will be a bright day for the rollo mills and for bardstown when they are well rid of them."

the superintendent did not pause to think where he was going when he stepped into the open air. the cold wind struck his face and a few fine particles touched his cheek. the sky had partly cleared, so that he could see the fine coating of snow around him, but after all, very little had fallen.

"if i can keep the path," he thought, "i will reach the village, but that is no easy matter—ah! there it is again."

the peculiar odor that had mystified him before was in the air. he recalled that hugh and tom had made an allusion to it that he did not understand.

"it may come from their chimney and be caused by something burning; but i looked closely at the wood on the hearth and saw nothing else."

a natural impulse led him, after walking a few rods, to look behind him. he had heard nothing, but knowing the surly mood of the couple, he thought it probable they might follow him.

the door of the cabin, was drawn wide open and the form of a man stood out to view, as if stamped with ink on the flaming background made by the fire beyond. his lengthened shadow was thrown down the path almost to the feet of harvey. the fellow no doubt was peering into the gloom and listening.

"i wonder whether they mean to dog me," said harvey; "it will be an easy matter to do so, for they know every part of the wood, while i am a stranger. they are none too good to put me out of the way; it is such men who have no fear of the law, but they shall not take me unawares."

while still looking toward the cabin, all became dark again. the door was closed, but he could not be sure whether the man stood outside or within.

"if he means to do me harm he will soon be at my heels."

but the straining eyes could not catch the outlines of any one, and the only sound was the moaning wind among the bare branches.

"he has gone back into the house, but may come out again."

and so, while picking his way through the dim forests, you may be sure that harvey bradley looked behind him many times. it makes one shiver with dread to suspect that a foe is softly following him. harvey had buttoned his pea jacket to his chin and he now turned up the collar, so that it touched his ears. his hands were shoved deep into the side pockets and the right one rested upon his revolver that he had withdrawn from its usual place at his hip. he was on the alert for whatever might come.

he was pleased with one fact: the path to which so many references were made, was so clearly marked that he found it easy to avoid going wrong.

"if i had had sense enough to take the right course when i first struck it, i would have been home by this time."

after turning around several times without seeing or hearing anything suspicious, he came to believe that however glad o'hara and hansell might be to do him harm, they lacked the courage, unless almost sure against detection.

"hugh will stir up others to go forward, but he will take good care to protect himself."

the dull roar that he once fancied he heard when tramping aimlessly during the day, was now so distinct that he knew he must be near a stream. the path crossed it at no great distance.

sure enough, he had only turned a bend and gone down a little slope when he reached the margin of a deep creek, fully twenty feet wide. it flowed smooth and dark at his feet, but the turmoil to the left showed that it tumbled over the rocks, not far away.

harvey was anything but pleased, when he saw the bridge by which the stream had to be passed. it was merely the trunk of a tree, that lay with the base on the side where he stood, while the top rested on the other bank. whoever had felled the tree had trimmed the trunk of its branches from base to top—the result being more ornamental than useful, for the protuberances would have served to help the footing of a passenger. the trunk in the middle was no more than six inches in diameter, and being a little worn by the shoes that had trod its length, the footing was anything but secure. with the sprinkling of snow it was more treacherous than ever.

"must i cross that?" harvey said aloud, with a feeling akin to dismay.

"you can do so or swim, whichever you choose."

these words were spoken by a man standing on the other side, and who was about to step on the support, when he paused on seeing another on the point of doing the same from the opposite bank. in the dim light, harvey saw him only indistinctly, but judged that he himself was recognized by the other.

"i suppose it's safe enough for those accustomed to it," said harvey in reply, "but i prefer some other means; do you intend to use it?"

"that i do; i want no better; if you are afraid, get out of the way, for i am late."

harvey moved to the right, and watched the other, who stepped upon the support and walked over with as much certainty as if treading a pavement on the street.

harvey looked closely, and as the fellow came toward him, he recognized him as one of his former employes. he was jack hansell—a brother of tom, and like him a close associate of hugh o'hara, the leader.

"you are out late, jack," remarked the superintendent, as the other left the log. to his surprise, jack did not answer, but quickly disappeared up the path by which the superintendent had reached the spot.

"he is surly and ill-mannered, like all of them; no doubt he is on his way to the cabin to plot mischief with the others."

since nothing was to be gained by waiting, harvey now stepped on the trunk and began gingerly making his way across. it was a hard task, and just beyond the middle, he lost his balance. he was so far along, however, that a vigorous jump landed him on the other bank.

a little beyond he caught the twinkling lights of the village, and he hastened his steps, now that, as it may be said, home was in sight. he felt as if he was famishing, and the thought of the luscious supper awaiting his return, gave him such speed that he was soon at his own door.

though it was late, he saw his aunt was astir, for the lights were burning brightly. before he could utter the greeting on his tongue, he was terrified by the scared face of his relative.

"why, aunt, what is the matter? are you ill?"

"oh, harvey!" she wailed; "haven't you brought dollie with you?"

"dollie!" repeated the other; "i haven't seen her since i left home."

"then you will never see her again," and, overcome by her terrible grief, the good woman sank into the nearest chair, covered her face with her apron and wept.

harvey bradley stood petrified. bright-eyed dollie, whom he had left a few hours before, rosy, happy, overflowing with bounding spirits, was gone, and the sobbing aunt maria declared she would never be seen again.

stepping into the room, harvey laid his hand on his aunt's shoulder and in a trembling voice said:

"why, aunt, what does this mean? are you in earnest? what has become of dollie? tell me, i beseech you."

"she is lost; she is lost! oh, why did we ever bring her to this dreadful country? i wish none of us had ever seen it."

"but what about dollie? where is she? how long has she been gone? compose yourself and tell."

it was not until he spoke sharply that the hysterical woman was able to make known that the child had been absent for hours, no one knew where. when she learned that noon that her big brother would not be back till night, dollie had pouted because he had gone off without telling her. she was not sure she could ever forgive him. however, she ate her dinner, and soon after went out to play. some hours later her aunt went to the door to call her, but she was not within sight or hearing. maggie was sent to look for her, but soon came back with word that she could not be found.

the child had been seen a couple of hours before, running in the direction of the path that led into the mountains, as if she was fleeing from some one, maggie had gone as far as she dared in quest of her, but her loudest shouts brought no reply and she returned.

the word brought by the servant, as may well be believed, filled the aunt with the wildest grief. beyond all doubt, dollie had formed a sudden resolve to hunt up her brother harvey, who had gone away and left her at home. she had strayed so far into the mountains that she was lost. fortunately, she was warmly dressed at the time, but exposed as she must be to the wintry winds and cold, she could not hold out until morning unless rescued very soon.

harvey was stricken with an anguish such as he had never known before, but he knew that not a minute was to be lost. dollie must be found at once or it would be too late. it added a poignancy to his woe to know that in coming down the mountain path, he must have passed close to her, who was in sore need of the help he was eager to give.

"have you made no search for her?" he asked.

"i could not believe she would not come back until it began to grow dark. i thought she could not be far away; maggie and i hunted through the village, inquiring of every one whom we saw; many of the people were kind, and two or three have gone to hunt for her; i started to do so, but did not go far, when i was sure she had come back while i was away, and i hurried home only to find she was not here."

"are you sure any one is looking for her?"

"there are several."

"well," said harvey, impatient with the vacillation shown by his aunt, "i shall not come back until she is found."

his hand was on the knob of the door when his distressed relative sprang to her feet.

"harvey;" she said in a wild, scared manner, "shall i tell you what i believe?"

"of course."

"dollie did not lose herself: some of those awful men did it."

"do you mean the strikers?"

"yes; they have taken her away to spite you."

"impossible!" exclaimed the young man, passing out the door and striding up the single street that ran through the village.

but though unwilling to confess it to himself, the same shocking suspicion had come to him at the moment he learned that dollie was lost. could it be that some of the men, grown desperate in their resentment, had taken this means of mortally injuring him? was there any person in the wide world who would harm an innocent child for the sake of hurting a strong man? alas, such things had been done, and why should they not be done again? the words that he overheard between hugh o'hara and tom hansell proved them capable of dark deeds. could it be that some of the hints thrown out by them during that brief interview in the cabin bore any relation to the disappearance of dollie.

at the moment harvey turned away from his own house it was his intention to rouse the village and to ask all to join in the hunt for the child, but a feeling of bitter resentment led him to change his purpose. no; they would rejoice over his sorrow; they would give him no aid, and, if they had had a hand in her taking off, they would do what they could to baffle him in his search. slight as was his hope, he would push on alone.

"o'hara and hansell know all about it; i will search the neighborhood of the path all the way to their cabin and then compel them to tell what they know; if they refuse——"

he shut his lips tight and walked faster than ever. he strove to fight back the tempestuous emotions that set his blood boiling. he was moved by a resolve that would stop at nothing; he would not believe that there was no hope; he knew he could force the miscreants to give up their secret, and had a hair of his little sister's head been harmed the punishment should be swift and terrible.

"when dollie is found," he muttered, determined to believe she must be restored to him, "i will send her and aunt maria away, and then have it out with these fellows; i'll make them rue the day they began the fight."

these were dreadful thoughts, but there was excuse for them, his grief made him half frantic.

the path over which he believed dollie had either strayed or been led or carried, entered the woods about a hundred yards from the village and gradually sloped and wound upward for a mile, when it passed the door of hugh o'hara's cabin and lost itself in the solitude beyond.

the sky had cleared still more during the interval since he came down the mountain side, and he could not only see the course clearly, but could distinguish objects several rods away, when the shadow of the overhanging trees did not shut out the light. but the season was so far along that few leaves were left on the limbs and it was easy, therefore, for him to keep the right course.

he had not gone far when he stopped and shouted the name of dollie. the sound reached a long way, and he repeated the call several times, but only the dismal wind among the limbs gave answer.

striding forward, he stood a few minutes later on the margin of the creek that was spanned by the fallen tree.

"she would not have dared to walk over," was his thought: "she must have been on this side, if she wandered off alone."

a moment later he added:

"no; for the very reason that it is dangerous, dollie would run across; it would be no trouble for her to do so, and there is just enough peril to tempt her. could she have fallen in?"

he looked at the dark water as it swept forward and shivered.

"rivers and lakes and seas and streams are always thirsting for human life, and this may have seized her."

tramping through the undergrowth that lined the bank he fought his way onward until he stood beside the rocks where the waters made a foaming cascade, as they dashed downward toward the mills far away.

"if she did fall in, she must be somewhere near this spot——"

his heart seemed to stop beating. surely that dark object, half submerged and lying against the edge of the bank, where the water made an eddy, must be her body. he ran thither and stooped down.

"thank god," was his exclamation, after touching it with his hands, and finding it a piece of dark wood that had been carried there from the regions above.

back he came to where the fallen tree spanned the creek, and hurried across. no snow was falling, but the earth was white with the thin coating that had filtered down hours before.

"had it come earlier in the day," he thought, "it would help us to trace her, but now it will hide her footprints."

hardly a score of steps from the creek his foot struck something soft, and he stooped down. straightening up, he held a small hood in his hand, such as children wear in cold weather. faint as was the light, he recognized it as dollie's; he had seen her wear it many times.

"what can it mean?" he asked himself; "i must have stepped over or on that on my way down, but did not notice it. yes, dollie is on this side the stream, but where?"

aye, that was the question. once more he raised his voice and shouted with might and main, but as before no answer came back.

harvey was now master of himself. he had recovered from the shock that at first almost took away his senses and he was able to think and act with his usual coolness. but with this, the belief that hugh and tom had something to do with the disappearance of dollie grew until at times he was without any doubt at all. occasionally, however, he wavered in his belief.

thus it was that two theories offered themselves. the first was that dollie had set out to find him and had wandered up the mountain path to some point above the bridge and then had strayed from it and become lost. worn out, she had laid down and was at that moment asleep.

the corollary of this theory was that she had perished with cold, or would thus perish before daylight. true, she was well clad when she went out that afternoon to play, but her hood was gone and she could not escape the biting wind that pierced the heavy clothing of harvey himself. then, too, there was the danger from the wild beasts, of which he had had too late an experience to forget.

should it prove that dollie went off in the manner named, then harvey made a great error in setting out alone to search for her. he ought to have roused the village, and, with the hundreds scouring the mountains, helped by torches and dogs, discovery could not be delayed long.

the other and darker theory was that she had been seen by some of his enemies as she went into the woods and had been coaxed to some out-of-the-way place, where her abductors meant to hold and use her as a means of bringing the superintendent to terms. all must have known that no method could be so effective as that.

it was hard to believe that the evil-minded men would go any further. yet it was easy for them to do so; they could make way with a little child like her and have it seem that her death was caused by falling over the rocks or by some other accident that might easily come to her.

"o'hara and hansell must have known all about it when i was in their cabin. they were afraid to assail me in the cabin, for i was prepared, and the fear of the law kept them from following me after i left their place."

harvey was thinking hard when he caught the well-known light, among the trees in the cabin.

"he, tom and jack, precious scamps all of them, are exulting over the sorrow they have caused, but they shall pay for it."

the latch-string had not yet been withdrawn. harvey gave it a jerk, followed by a spiteful push that threw the door wide open. disappointment awaited him. neither hugh nor tom was there, but jack, looking like a twin brother of tom, was in the act of lighting the pipe that his relative had probably left for his use. he was alone, not even the hound being present.

jack had partly risen to his feet to reach the pouch of tobacco on the short mantel above the fireplace. he paused and looked over his shoulder with a startled expression at the visitor who made such an emphatic entrance.

"why—why, mr. bradley," he stammered, "i didn't know it was you; will you take a seat?"

"where are hugh and tom?"

"they went out some time ago."

"where did they go?" demanded harvey in an angry voice.

"down to—the—that is, i don't know."

"yes, you do know. i want no trifling; i will not stand it."

the fellow, though flustered at first, quickly regained his self-possession. he had evidently checked himself just in time to keep back some important knowledge.

"where have they gone?" repeated the superintendent, bursting with impatience.

but jack hansell was himself again—sullen and insolent as ever. he had an intense dislike of his employer—a dislike that had deepened within the past few days. he slowly sat down and smoked a full minute before making reply to harvey, who felt like throttling him.

"i told you i didn't know," he finally said, looking into the embers and speaking as if to the glowing coals.

"but you do know."

"so i do, but i know another thing as well, and that is that there ain't any reason why i should tell you if i don't choose to."

it took a great effort of the will for harvey to hold himself from doing violence to the man who said he was not bound to tell what he preferred to keep to himself: but the superintendent saw that nothing could be gained by violence. the man who can keep cool during a dispute has ten-fold the advantage over one who does not restrain himself.

after all, jack hansell was of small account. it was o'hara, his master, and mayhap his companion, whom harvey bradley must see. if tom chose to tell the truth he could do so, but if he would not, no one could force him to say the words.

all this was clear to the young man, who, checking his anger, added in a lower tone:

"you are not bound to answer any question i ask you, even when you have no reason for your refusal, but you cannot decline to say when they are likely to be back."

"yes, i can, for i don't know."

"i wish to see o'hara on a matter of the first importance."

"but he may not want to see you, and i ain't the man to make things unpleasant for a friend."

"you certainly expect them back to-night, do you not?"

jack smoked his pipe a few seconds before giving heed to this simple question. then, turning slowly toward harvey, who was still standing in the middle of the room, he said:

"you had better sit down, for you won't find hugh and tom any sooner by keeping your feet. what do you want to see 'em for?"

"that i can explain only to them, though it is hugh whom i particularly want to meet."

the superintendent took the seat to which he was invited. it was the stool on which he sat when in the cabin before. it cost him a greater effort than can be explained to defer to this defiant fellow, who a few weeks or even days before would have cringed at his feet like a dog.

"that being the case," added jack, between the puffs at his pipe, "why you'll have to wait till they come back. that may be inside of five minutes, and not for an hour; maybe," added jack in the game exasperating manner, "that nothing will be seen of 'em till daylight. you see that since they have been cheated out of their work they have plenty of time to loaf through the country."

"any man who is too lazy to work can find time to turn his hand to dishonest tricks," said the superintendent, meaning that the words should not be misunderstood.

"sometimes the tricks that you call dishonest pay better than working for a superintendent who wants all the wages himself," was the impudent reply of jack hansell.

"that is the excuse of the man who is bad at heart and who prefers wrong to right. our state prisons are full of that sort of people."

"yes—and there are a good many people that ought to be in prison that ain't there."

"i am sure no one is better qualified than you to speak on that matter."

"except yourself."

it struck harvey just then that he was doing an unworthy thing in holding such a conversation with any man. if he had anything of the kind to say, he ought to speak it openly. he now did so.

"there is not a particle of doubt, jack hansell, that you and your brother and hugh o'hara are engaged in business that ought to place you all behind the bars."

"if you think it safe to talk that way before tom and hugh you will now have the chance."

"i will be glad to tell them to their faces what i have told you."

"all right; there they come."

footsteps and voices in such low tones were heard outside that it was clear the men brought important news with them. and such indeed proved to be the case.