the following morning charles went to his work after breakfasting alone. aunt zilla said the others were not yet up. from his corn-field he saw frazier lead his horse up to the gate and hitch it to his buggy, which had been left there. presently mary came out, and was assisted into the vehicle. frazier attentively tucked the lap-robe about her feet, waved a parting hand to rowland at the gate, and they drove away. the buggy seat was a narrow one and the couple had to sit close together. frazier, in a very loutish way, had dropped his right foot over the edge of the buggy, and it was swinging to and fro close to the wheels, like a pendulum.

"i want to warn you and your father both against that fellow," he was saying to the thought-immersed girl, who, pale and rigid, sat by his side. "i am sure there is something crooked about him. he has all the earmarks of a suspicious character. i have helped my brother in several detective cases and i never saw a man i suspected more. it is not all groundless, either, little girl. you see, the last time i was here to stay all night i heard him coming in away after midnight, slipping up the stairs with his shoes in his hand, and this morning between two and three he did the same thing. the first time i stopped him with my gun in my hand, but this morning i let him pass. i intend to give him plenty of rope and watch him. some suspicious characters were connected with the circus he left, and my frank opinion is that this brown dropped off here, and is working on your place merely as a blind to cover up some shady game."

"you say you heard him come in this morning between two and three?" mary said, wonderingly. "are you not mistaken?"

"no. the truth is i thought i heard him go out about eleven, but was not sure, so i left my door slightly ajar. i am a light sleeper when i want to be, and i heard him at the front door and watched him creep up the stairs without his shoes again. a fellow like that may stare at me and not answer a decent question, but it won't pay him. he doesn't know who he is fooling with."

mary said nothing. she was wondering what could have taken charles out at that hour. finally she thought of the old friend he had mentioned and decided his going out must have been connected with him. but—again she found herself perplexed—why had the "old friend" acted so strangely the preceding day? why had he hidden in the thicket for so many hours before approaching charles, and why had he waited for the darkness to fall before accomplishing his purpose? it was queer, very queer, but not for a moment did she doubt that all was as it should be. she found herself actually too miserable to attempt a defense of charles against frazier's insinuations. after all, what could be of importance beyond the object of her mission to the village that morning? frazier had said that he would go to the bank as soon as they reached carlin and get the necessary money. whether the life of the wounded man might be saved was very doubtful at best, but one thing seemed settled beyond recall, and that was her marriage to the man by her side. could it be possible? she kept asking herself, to the thudding accompaniment of the horse's hoofs; yes, yes, it was now inevitable. she was glad, vaguely glad, that frazier forebore mentioning the subject during the drive. he evidently felt that after the price had been paid she would be ready to complete the bargain. she was beginning to feel herself a slave, but she was a haughty, uncringing one, and well knew the value of what she was giving.

they were entering the village. he told her it was nine o'clock and the bank would be open for business. he could, by going only a short distance out of his way, drop her at keith's house. how would she like to stop and tell tobe the good news while he went on to the bank for the money?

it was just what she desired, for she shrank from being seen at the bank on such business. the president, at least, would understand and make mental, if not open, comments. so at the gate of the cottage frazier left her, promising to come back very soon.

no one was in sight about the place, though the front door was open, and as she entered the gate she heard the grinding tread of thick-shod feet on the boards of the floor within.

the buggy was disappearing down the street as she timidly reached the door. she stood there a moment, and then summoned up the courage to rap on the lintel.

"go see who it is, ma," she heard tobe say. "maybe they are here already."

then mrs. keith appeared. her facial expression was more cheerful than it was the day before, her form more erect and confident. she was even courteous in her unlettered way.

"come in, come in," she said, smiling. "tobe, it is miss mary. he is daft about you, miss mary; he hasn't talked about a thing since you left but the sweet way you acted and spoke yesterday. he has a lot to tell you, but i reckon you have heard by this time. news spreads like fire in dry broomsedge in a little place like this."

"i have heard nothing new," mary answered, wonderingly.

"you say you haven't? well, everybody else has, here in town, i'll bet a horse. tobe, she hain't heard. you tell her. he can do it to the queen's taste." mrs. keith laughed in a chuckling way.

"you can't fool me with that prim look of yours, miss mary," the wounded man said, smiling wanly from his pillow, as mary bent over him. "you know all about it. i'm not such a fool as to think that two big things would just happen together like you being here yesterday and that other piling in so quick afterwards."

"what do you mean by 'that other'?" mary asked, in groping surprise.

"listen, ma, listen at her!" tobe laughed. "you know women better 'n i do. ain't she just making out?"

"she looks to me like she's really puzzled," mrs. keith answered. "the truth is, miss mary, the money for the atlanta trip was sent last night, an' we don't know who it come from; but tobe declares you are at the bottom of it."

"i believe it, and nothing won't shake me from it," tobe insisted, still smiling confidently.

"you say—you say that you got the money!" mary fairly gasped in surprise.

"not only that, but a cool hundred over the amount," tobe went on. "you'd as well get off your high perch, miss mary rowland. you see, i've got evidence."

"evidence! i don't understand." mary was truly bewildered.

"yes. i had no sooner mentioned it to mrs. bartlett this morning than she told about how you was riding from place to place to borrow the money. i can put two and two together easy enough. you simply got the money and are trying to keep from being known in it, that's all."

"i give you my word, tobe, i know nothing about it," mary answered, her head hanging in embarrassment. "i confess i did try to get the money, and—and i intended to try again to-day. of course, i'm glad it has come."

"i believe she is in earnest, tobe," mrs. keith said, her gaunt hands clutching the foot of the bedstead. "well, it is awfully strange, miss mary. it happened like this. i was up with tobe to give him his fever mixture about two o'clock this morning, when down the street, alongside mrs. bartlett's picket fence, i saw two men coming. it looked like one was trying to persuade the other to do something that he didn't exactly want to tackle, an' my first thought was that they were niggers trying to rob some hen-roost. but while i was watching, sorter scrouched down on the door-sill, so as not to be seen, the two men come on to our gate and halted. then in the starlight, that was pretty bright, i saw they was white men. i was still, an' so was they for a minute; then i heard one of them say, sorter peevish-like: 'go on. knock at the door, an' when somebody comes out hand it to 'em and say what i told you to say. that ain't hard to remember. nobody won't hurt you.'"

tobe laughed merrily from his bed. "'fraid he'd get shot, i reckon. think o' that, miss mary—afraid he'd have somebody pull down on him when he was out to do a kind deed like that!"

mrs. keith's smile blended into her son's mood, and she went on:

"the feller that was doing the ordering opened the gate an' sorter shoved the other one in and stayed back behind hisse'f. on come the other one then, and found me settin' on the door-sill. it seemed to scare the very wits out of 'im, for at the sudden sight of me rising from my seat he made a gruntin' sound, and would have bolted outright if i hadn't halted 'im. i asked him what he wanted. for a minute he was tongue-tied and then he hauled out something that i took for a gun at first, but which was a big fat roll o' uncle sam's currency wrapped in tissue-paper.

"it's a present from a friend an' well-wisher of the young man that was hurt. he hopes he will use it and get well.' that was all he said or would say. he had a sort o' irish twist to his tongue, i should say, and he had on a nice suit of dark-gray clothes. he was a plumb stranger in this place, it seemed to me. i know i never laid eyes on him before. well, sir, he just bolted, an' him an' the other feller made off towards the square at a lively gait. i didn't then know what was in the roll, for i had only the feel of my fingers to guide me, but you bet i hustled in and turned up the lamp. you can't imagine my astonishment. i was so crazy that i could not count the stuff. tobe was asleep, and thar i stood at that center-table with all that boodle. tobe woke up and saw me, and i told him as well as i could what had happened, and me an' him counted the stuff bill by bill—some tens, some twenties, and as high up as fifties. five hundred dollars! i locked the front door. i wanted to bolt down the winders, hot as the night was. i thought about getting out tobe's revolver. as i say, i was plumb off my nut. i knowed i ought not to 'a' done it, but i stayed awake and let tobe chatter till daybreak. he was in for sending to the doctor an' letting him know at once, but we didn't till about seven o'clock. and doctor harrison heated the wires hot between here and atlanta. it is all ready fixed down there, and our tickets bought. we are to take the one-o'clock through express. the doctor is going along, too, an' a nurse, just for the trip. the doctor engaged the drawing-room in a sleeping-car, whar he says thar hain't a bit of jolting, and plenty o' space for tobe to stretch out comfortable. four buck niggers from the cotton-warehouse is coming to tote tobe on a cot to the train, and a whole drug-store o' mixtures is going along. the doctor is powerful pleased, and said we was taking it just in the nick o' time. in fact, he said we mustn't be too hopeful, as all depended on what doctor elliot would be able to do down thar. he said we was too excited, for one thing, an' that we must calm ourselves down—that a trip like this would be hard enough on tobe, anyway. i promised i'd keep tobe quiet, but how can i? every minute somebody drops in to find out if the tale going about is so, and we go over it again."

"i am afraid that i am exciting him now," said mary, as she rose. "i must be going. i came in this morning, tobe, to—to find out how you are," she said, haltingly, "and i am delighted to hear the good news."

"i know you are—i know that," tobe answered, extending his pale hand. "i'm glad you come, miss mary. coming like you have has wiped out all hard feeling between me and your brothers. if i get well i'll do my level best to keep the thing out of court, and if i die i'll leave word that i was as much to blame as the boys."