The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-08-07

l "You and Gregson must have been | laid up about the same time," said the young engineer. That was a painful wound of Gregson'S. I wonder who | the deuce it was who shot him? Funny | that a man like Gregson should have an enemy!'
 | Thorne sat up with jerk. There came the rattle of pan from the stove, and Rowland turned his head 1 in time to see Jackpine staring at him as though he had exploded a mine l under his feet.
 "Who shot him?" gasped the senior engineer. "Why-er-didn't GregsOn tell you that 1t was an accident? "Why should he lie. Thorne?' A faint flush swept into the others pallid face. For moment there was | penetrating glare in his eyes as he looked at Rowland. Jackpine stin stood silent and moticnless beside the stove. "He told me that t was an accident said Thorne at last.
 Funny" was all that Rowland said. For the first time Rowland noticed that the thin muslin curtain, which he thought had screened window, con, cealed, in place of a window, a care
 fully fitted bairicade of plank. A sud
 den thrill shot through him as he rose to examine it. With his back toward Thorne he said. half laughing, "Per- haps Gregson was afraid that the fel- low who clipped off his finger would
 get him through the window, eh?" It was 10 o'clock when Thorne and Jackpine left the cabin. No sooner had they gone than Rowland closed and barred the door, lighted another cigar and began pacing rapidly up and
 down the room. Already there were developments Gregson had lied to
 him about his finger. Thorne had lied to him about his own injuries. what
 ever they were. He was certain of
 these two things-and of more. The two senior engineers were not leaving the Wekusko because of mere dissatis faction with the work and country. They were fleeing. And for some req son they were keeping from him the real motive for their flight. Was it possible that they were deliberately
 sacrificing him ips order to save them selves? He could not bring himself to believe this, notwithstanding the evidence against them. Both were men of irreproachable honor He was tired from his long days travel, but little inclination to sleep came to him, and, stretching himself out on the lounge with his head and shoulders bolstered up with furs, he continued to smoke and think. He was surprised when a little clock tin kled the hour of eleven. He had not seen the clock before. He was almost asleep when it struck again - softly and yet with sufficient loudness to
 arouse him. It had struck twelve. With an effort Rowland overcame his drowsiness and dragged himself to a sitting posture, knowing that he
 should undress and go to bed. The
 lamp was still burning brightly, and
 he arose to turn down the wick. Sud
 denly he stopped. To his dulled senses
 there came distinctly the sound of
 knock at the door. For a few mo-
 ments he waited, silent and motionless.
 It came again, louder than before.
 Who could be his midnight visitor?
 Softly Rowland wc-!t back to his
 heavy coat and sIiprcd his small, re
 volver into his hip pocket. The knock
 came again. Then he walked to the
 door, shot back the bolt and, with his
 right hand gripping the butt of his pis-
 tol, flung it wide open.
 For a moment he stood transfixed
 staring speechlessly at a white. star
 tied face lighted up by the glow of the
 oil lamp. Bewildered to the point Of
 numbness, he backed slowly, holding
 the door open, and there entered the
 one person in all the world whom he
 wished most to see-she who had be
 come so strangely a part of his life
 since that first night at Prince Alber.
 and whose sweet face was holding a
 deeper meaning for him with every
 hour that he lived. He closed the door
 and turned. still without speaking;
 and, impeiled by a sudden spirit that
 sent the blood thrilling through his
 veins, he held out both hands to the girl for whom he now knew that he
 was willing to face all the perils that might await him between civilization and the bay.