Kate was stirring early, but not as early as her sister, who met her on the threshold of her room.  Her face was quite pale, and she held a letter in her hand.  “What does this mean, Kate?”

“What is the matter?” asked Kate, her own color fading from her cheek.

“They are gone ­with their horses.  Left before day, and left this.”

She handed Kate an open letter.  The girl took it hurriedly, and read ­

“When you get this we shall be no more; perhaps not even as much.  Ned found the trail yesterday, and we are taking the first advantage of it before day.  We dared not trust ourselves to say ‘Good-by!’ last evening; we were too cowardly to face you this morning; we must go as we came, without warning, but not without regret.  We leave a package and a letter for your husband.  It is not only our poor return for your gentleness and hospitality, but, since it was accidentally the means of giving us the pleasure of your society, we beg you to keep it in safety until his return.  We kiss your mother’s hands.  Ned wants to say something more, but time presses, and I only allow him to send his love to Minnie, and to tell her that he is trying to find the red snow.

“George Lee.”

“But he is not fit to travel,” said Mrs. Hale.  “And the trail ­it may not be passable.”

“It was passable the day before yesterday,” said Kate drearily, “for I discovered it, and went as far as the buck-eyes.”

“Then it was you who told them about it,” said Mrs. Hale reproachfully.

“No,” said Kate indignantly.  “Of course I didn’t.”  She stopped, and, reading the significance of her speech in the glistening eyes of her sister, she blushed.  Josephine kissed her, and said ­

“It was treating us like children, Kate, but we must make them pay for it hereafter.  For that package and letter to John means something, and we shall probably see them before long.  I wonder what the letter is about, and what is in the package?”

“Probably one of Mr. Lee’s jokes.  He is quite capable of turning the whole thing into ridicule.  I dare say he considers his visit here a prolonged jest.”

“With his poor leg, Kate?  You are as unfair to him as you were to Falkner when they first came.”

Kate, however, kept her dark eyebrows knitted in a piquant frown.

“To think of his intimating what he would allow Falkner to say!  And yet you believe he has no evil influence over the young man.”

Mrs. Hale laughed.  “Where are you going so fast, Kate?” she called mischievously, as the young lady flounced out of the room.

“Where?  Why, to tidy John’s room.  He may be coming at any moment now.  Or do you want to do it yourself?”

“No, no,” returned Mrs. Hale hurriedly; “you do it.  I’ll look in a little later on.”

She turned away with a sigh.  The sun was shining brilliantly outside.  Through the half-open blinds its long shafts seemed to be searching the house for the lost guests, and making the hollow shell appear doubly empty.  What a contrast to the dear dark days of mysterious seclusion and delicious security, lit by Lee’s laughter and the sparkling hearth, which had passed so quickly!  The forgotten outer world seemed to have returned to the house through those open windows and awakened its dwellers from a dream.

The morning seemed interminable, and it was past noon, while they were deep in a sympathetic conference with Mrs. Scott, who had drawn a pathetic word-picture of the two friends perishing in the snow-drift, without flannels, brandy, smelling-salts, or jelly, which they had forgotten, when they were startled by the loud barking of “Spot” on the lawn before the house.  The women looked hurriedly at each other.

“They have returned,” said Mrs. Hale.

Kate ran to the window.  A horseman was approaching the house.  A single glance showed her that it was neither Falkner, Lee, nor Hale, but a stranger.

“Perhaps he brings some news of them,” said Mrs. Scott quickly.  So complete had been their preoccupation with the loss of their guests that they could not yet conceive of anything that did not pertain to it.

The stranger, who was at once ushered into the parlor, was evidently disconcerted by the presence of the three women.

“I reckoned to see John Hale yer,” he began, awkwardly.

A slight look of disappointment passed over their faces.  “He has not yet returned,” said Mrs. Hale briefly.

“Sho!  I wanter know.  He’s hed time to do it, I reckon,” said the stranger.

“I suppose he hasn’t been able to get over from the Summit,” returned Mrs. Hale.  “The trail is closed.”

“It ain’t now, for I kem over it this mornin’ myself.”

“You didn’t ­meet ­anyone?” asked Mrs. Hale timidly, with a glance at the others.

“No.”

A long silence ensued.  The unfortunate visitor plainly perceived an evident abatement of interest in himself, yet he still struggled politely to say something.  “Then I reckon you know what kept Hale away?” he said dubiously.

“Oh, certainly ­the stage robbery.”

“I wish I’d known that,” said the stranger reflectively, “for I ez good ez rode over jist to tell it to ye.  Ye see John Hale, he sent a note to ye ‘splainin’ matters by a gentleman; but the road agents tackled that man, and left him for dead in the road.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Hale impatiently.

“Luckily he didn’t die, but kem to, and managed to crawl inter the brush, whar I found him when I was lookin’ for stock, and brought him to my house ­”

“You found him?  Your house?” interrupted Mrs. Hale.

“Inter my house,” continued the man doggedly.  “I’m Thompson of Thompson’s Pass over yon; mebbe it ain’t much of a house; but I brought him thar.  Well, ez he couldn’t find the note that Hale had guv him, and like ez not the road agents had gone through him and got it, ez soon ez the weather let up I made a break over yer to tell ye.”

“You say Mr. Lee came to your house,” repeated Mrs. Hale, “and is there now?”

“Not much,” said the man grimly; “and I never said Lee was thar.  I mean that Bilson waz shot by Lee and kem ­”

“Certainly, Josephine!” said Kate, suddenly stepping between her sister and Thompson, and turning upon her a white face and eyes of silencing significance; “certainly ­don’t you remember? ­that’s the story we got from the Chinaman, you know, only muddled.  Go on sir,” she continued, turning to Thompson calmly; “you say that the man who brought the note from my brother was shot by Lee?”

“And another fellow they call Falkner.  Yes, that’s about the size of it.”

“Thank you; it’s nearly the same story that we heard.  But you have had a long ride, Mr. Thompson; let me offer you a glass of whiskey in the dining-room.  This way, please.”

The door closed upon them none too soon.  For Mrs. Hale already felt the room whirling around her, and sank back into her chair with a hysterical laugh.  Old Mrs. Scott did not move from her seat, but, with her eyes fixed on the door, impatiently waited Kate’s return.  Neither spoke, but each felt that the young, untried girl was equal to the emergency, and would get at the truth.

The sound of Thompson’s feet in the hall and the closing of the front door was followed by Kate’s reappearance.  Her face was still pale, but calm.

“Well?” said the two women in a breath.

“Well,” returned Kate slowly; “Mr. Lee and Mr. Falkner were undoubtedly the two men who took the paper from John’s messenger and brought it here.”

“You are sure?” said Mrs. Scott.

“There can be no mistake, mother.”

“Then,” said Mrs. Scott, with triumphant feminine logic, “I don’t want anything more to satisfy me that they are perfectly Innocent!”

More convincing than the most perfect masculine deduction, this single expression of their common nature sent a thrill of sympathy and understanding through each.  They cried for a few moments on each other’s shoulders.  “To think,” said Mrs. Scott, “what that poor boy must have suffered to have been obliged to do ­that to ­to ­Bilson ­isn’t that the creature’s name?  I suppose we ought to send over there and inquire after him, with some chicken and jelly, Kate.  It’s only common humanity, and we must be just, my dear; for even if he shot Mr. Lee and provoked the poor boy to shoot him, he may have thought it his duty.  And then, it will avert suspicions.”

“To think,” murmured Mrs. Hale, “what they must have gone through while they were here ­momentarily expecting John to come, and yet keeping up such a light heart.”

“I believe, if they had stayed any longer, they would have told us everything,” said Mrs. Scott.

Both the younger women were silent.  Kate was thinking of Falkner’s significant speech as they neared the house on their last walk; Josephine was recalling the remorseful picture drawn by Lee, which she knew was his own portrait.  Suddenly she started.

“But John will be here soon; what are we to tell him?  And then that package and that letter.”

“Don’t be in a hurry to tell him anything at present, my child,” said Mrs. Scott gently.  “It is unfortunate this Mr. Thompson called here, but we are not obliged to understand what he says now about John’s message, or to connect our visitors with his story.  I’m sure, Kate, I should have treated them exactly as we did if they had come without any message from John; so I do not know why we should lay any stress on that, or even speak of it.  The simple fact is that we have opened our house to two strangers in distress.  Your husband,” continued Mr. Hale’s mother-in-law, “does not require to know more.  As to the letter and package, we will keep that for further consideration.  It cannot be of much importance, or they would have spoken of it before; it is probably some trifling present as a return for your hospitality.  I should use no indecorous haste in having it opened.”

The two women kissed Mrs. Scott with a feeling of relief, and fell back into the monotony of their household duties.  It is to be feared, however, that the absence of their outlawed guests was nearly as dangerous as their presence in the opportunity it afforded for uninterrupted and imaginative reflection.  Both Kate and Josephine were at first shocked and wounded by the discovery of the real character of the two men with whom they had associated so familiarly, but it was no disparagement to their sense of propriety to say that the shock did not last long, and was accompanied with the fascination of danger.  This was succeeded by a consciousness of the delicate flattery implied in their indirect influence over the men who had undoubtedly risked their lives for the sake of remaining with them.  The best woman is not above being touched by the effect of her power over the worst man, and Kate at first allowed herself to think of Falkner in that light.  But if in her later reflections he suffered as a heroic experience to be forgotten, he gained something as an actual man to be remembered.  Now that the proposed rides from “his friend’s house” were a part of the illusion, would he ever dare to visit them again?  Would she dare to see him?  She held her breath with a sudden pain of parting that was new to her; she tried to think of something else, to pick up the scattered threads of her life before that eventful day.  But in vain; that one week had filled the place with implacable memories, or more terrible, as it seemed to her and her sister, they had both lost their feeble, alien hold upon Eagle’s Court in the sudden presence of the real genii of these solitudes, and henceforth they alone would be the strangers there.  They scarcely dared to confess it to each other, but this return to the dazzling sunlight and cloudless skies of the past appeared to them to be the one unreal experience; they had never known the true wild flavor of their home, except in that week of delicious isolation.  Without breathing it aloud, they longed for some vague denoument to this experience that should take them from Eagle’s Court forever.

It was noon the next day when the little household beheld the last shred of their illusion vanish like the melting snow in the strong sunlight of John Hale’s return.  He was accompanied by Colonel Clinch and Rawlins, two strangers to the women.  Was it fancy, or the avenging spirit of their absent companions? but he too looked a stranger, and as the little cavalcade wound its way up the slope he appeared to sit his horse and wear his hat with a certain slouch and absence of his usual restraint that strangely shocked them.  Even the old half-condescending, half-punctilious gallantry of his greeting of his wife and family was changed, as he introduced his companions with a mingling of familiarity and shyness that was new to him.  Did Mrs. Hale regret it, or feel a sense of relief in the absence of his usual seignorial formality?  She only knew that she was grateful for the presence of the strangers, which for the moment postponed a matrimonial confidence from which she shrank.

“Proud to know you,” said Colonel Clinch, with a sudden outbreak of the antique gallantry of some remote Huguenot ancestor.  “My friend, Judge Hale, must be a regular Roman citizen to leave such a family and such a house at the call of public duty.  Eh, Rawlins?”

“You bet,” said Rawlins, looking from Kate to her sister in undisguised admiration.

“And I suppose the duty could not have been a very pleasant one,” said Mrs. Hale, timidly, without looking at her husband.

“Gad, madam, that’s just it,” said the gallant Colonel, seating himself with a comfortable air, and an easy, though by no means disrespectful, familiarity.  “We went into this fight a little more than a week ago.  The only scrimmage we’ve had has been with the detectives that were on the robbers’ track.  Ha! ha!  The best people we’ve met have been the friends of the men we were huntin’, and we’ve generally come to the conclusion to vote the other ticket!  Ez Judge Hale and me agreed ez we came along, the two men ez we’d most like to see just now and shake hands with are George Lee and Ned Falkner.”

“The two leaders of the party who robbed the coach,” explained Mr. Hale, with a slight return of his usual precision of statement.

The three women looked at each other with a blaze of thanksgiving in their grateful eyes.  Without comprehending all that Colonel Clinch had said, they understood enough to know that their late guests were safe from the pursuit of that party, and that their own conduct was spared criticism.  I hardly dare write it, but they instantly assumed the appearance of aggrieved martyrs, and felt as if they were!

“Yes, ladies!” continued the Colonel, inspired by the bright eyes fixed upon him.  “We haven’t taken the road ourselves yet, but ­pohn honor ­we wouldn’t mind doing it in a case like this.”  Then with the fluent, but somewhat exaggerated, phraseology of a man trained to “stump” speaking, he gave an account of the robbery and his own connection with it.  He spoke of the swindling and treachery which had undoubtedly provoked Falkner to obtain restitution of his property by an overt act of violence under the leadership of Lee.  He added that he had learned since at Wild Cat Station that Harkins had fled the country, that a suit had been commenced by the Excelsior Ditch Company, and that all available property of Harkins had been seized by the sheriff.

“Of course it can’t be proved yet, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Lee, who is an old friend of Ned Falkner’s, got up that job to help him, and that Ned’s off with the money by this time ­and I’m right glad of it.  I can’t say ez we’ve done much towards it, except to keep tumbling in the way of that detective party of Stanner’s, and so throw them off the trail ­ha, ha!  The Judge here, I reckon, has had his share of fun, for while he was at Hennicker’s trying to get some facts from Hennicker’s pretty daughter, Stanner tried to get up some sort of vigilance committee of the stage passengers to burn down Hennicker’s ranch out of spite, but the Judge here stepped in and stopped that.”

“It was really a high-handed proceeding, Josephine, but I managed to check it,” said Hale, meeting somewhat consciously the first direct look his wife had cast upon him, and falling back for support on his old manner.  “In its way, I think it was worse than the robbery by Lee and Falkner, for it was done in the name of law and order; while, as far as I can judge from the facts, the affair that we were following up was simply a rude and irregular restitution of property that had been morally stolen.”

“I have no doubt you did quite right, though I don’t understand it,” said Mrs. Hale languidly; “but I trust these gentlemen will stay to luncheon, and in the meantime excuse us for running away, as we are short of servants, and Manuel seems to have followed the example of the head of the house and left us, in pursuit of somebody or something.”

When the three women had gained the vantage-ground of the drawing-room, Kate said, earnestly, “As it’s all right, hadn’t we better tell him now?”

“Decidedly not, child,” said Mrs. Scott, imperatively.  “Do you suppose they are in a hurry to tell us their whole story?  Who are those Hennicker people? and they were there a week ago!”

“And did you notice John’s hat when he came in, and the vulgar familiarity of calling him ’Judge’?” said Mrs. Hale.

“Well, certainly anything like the familiarity of this man Clinch I never saw,” said Kate.  “Contrast his manner with Mr. Falkner’s.”

At luncheon the three suffering martyrs finally succeeded in reducing Hale and his two friends to an attitude of vague apology.  But their triumph was short-lived.  At the end of the meal they were startled by the trampling of hoofs without, followed by loud knocking.  In another moment the door was opened, and Mr. Stanner strode into the room.  Hale rose with a look of indignation.

“I thought, as Mr. Stanner understood that I had no desire for his company elsewhere, he would hardly venture to intrude upon me in my house, and certainly not after ­”

“Ef you’re alluding to the Vigilantes shakin’ you and Zeenie up at Hennicker’s, you can’t make me responsible for that.  I’m here now on business ­you understand ­reg’lar business.  Ef you want to see the papers yer ken.  I suppose you know what a warrant is?”

“I know what you are,” said Hale hotly; “and if you don’t leave my house ­”

“Steady, boys,” interrupted Stanner, as his five henchmen filed into the hall.  “There’s no backin’ down here, Colonel Clinch, unless you and Hale kalkilate to back down the State of Californy!  The matter stands like this.  There’s a half-breed Mexican, called Manuel, arrested over at the Summit, who swears he saw George Lee and Edward Falkner in this house the night after the robbery.  He says that they were makin’ themselves at home here, as if they were among friends, and considerin’ the kind of help we’ve had from Mr. John Hale, it looks ez if it might be true.”

“It’s an infamous lie!” said Hale.

“It may be true, John,” said Mrs. Scott, suddenly stepping in front of her pale-cheeked daughters.  “A wounded man was brought here out of the storm by his friend, who claimed the shelter of your roof.  As your mother I should have been unworthy to stay beneath it and have denied that shelter or withheld it until I knew his name and what he was.  He stayed here until he could be removed.  He left a letter for you.  It will probably tell you if he was the man this person is seeking.”

“Thank you, mother,” said Hale, lifting her hand to his lips quietly; “and perhaps you will kindly tell these gentlemen that, as your son does not care to know who or what the stranger was, there is no necessity for opening the letter, or keeping Mr. Stanner a moment longer.”

“But you will oblige me, John, by opening it before these gentlemen,” said Mrs. Hale recovering her voice and color.  “Please to follow me,” she said preceding them to the staircase.

They entered Mr. Hale’s room, now restored to its original condition.  On the table lay a letter and a small package.  The eyes of Mr. Stanner, a little abashed by the attitude of the two women, fastened upon it and glistened.

Josephine handed her husband the letter.  He opened it in breathless silence and read ­

“John Hale,

“We owe you no return for voluntarily making yourself a champion of justice and pursuing us, except it was to offer you a fair field and no favor.  We didn’t get that much from you, but accident brought us into your house and into your family, where we did get it, and were fairly vanquished.  To the victors belong the spoils.  We leave the package of greenbacks which we took from Colonel Clinch in the Sierra coach, but which was first stolen by Harkins from forty-four shareholders of the Excelsior Ditch.  We have no right to say what you should do with it, but if you aren’t tired of following the same line of justice that induced you to run after us, you will try to restore it to its rightful owners.

“We leave you another trifle as an evidence that our intrusion into your affairs was not without some service to you, even if the service was as accidental as the intrusion.  You will find a pair of boots in the corner of your closet.  They were taken from the burglarious feet of Manuel, your peon, who, believing the three ladies were alone and at his mercy, entered your house with an accomplice at two o’clock on the morning of the 21st, and was kicked out by

“Your obedient servants,

“George Lee & Edward Falkner”

Hale’s voice and color changed on reading this last paragraph.  He turned quickly towards his wife; Kate flew to the closet, where the muffled boots of Manuel confronted them.  “We never knew it.  I always suspected something that night,” said Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Scott in the same breath.

“That’s all very well, and like George Lee’s high falutin’,” said Stanner, approaching the table, “but as long ez the greenbacks are here he can make what capital he likes outer Manuel.  I’ll trouble you to pass over that package.”

“Excuse me,” said Hale, “but I believe this is the package taken from Colonel Clinch.  Is it not?” he added, appealing to the Colonel.

“It is,” said Clinch.

“Then take it,” said Hale, handing him the package.  “The first restitution is to you, but I believe you will fulfil Lee’s instructions as well as myself.”

“But,” said Stanner, furiously interposing, “I’ve a warrant to seize that wherever found, and I dare you to disobey the law.”

“Mr. Stanner,” said Clinch, slowly, “there are ladies present.  If you insist upon having that package I must ask them to withdraw, and I’m afraid you’ll find me better prepared to resist a second robbery than I was the first.  Your warrant, which was taken out by the Express Company, is supplanted by civil proceedings taken the day before yesterday against the property of the fugitive swindler Harkins!  You should have consulted the sheriff before you came here.”

Stanner saw his mistake.  But in the faces of his grinning followers he was obliged to keep up his bluster.  “You shall hear from me again, sir,” he said, turning on his heel.

“I beg your pardon,” said Clinch grimly, “but do I understand that at last I am to have the honor ­”

“You shall hear from the Company’s lawyers, sir,” said Stanner turning red, and noisily leaving the room.

“And so, my dear ladies,” said Colonel Clinch, “you have spent a week with a highwayman.  I say A highwayman, for it would be hard to call my young friend Falkner by that name for his first offence, committed under great provocation, and undoubtedly instigated by Lee, who was an old friend of his, and to whom he came, no doubt, in desperation.”

Kate stole a triumphant glance at her sister, who dropped her lids over her glistening eyes.  “And this Mr. Lee,” she continued more gently, “is he really a highwayman?”

“George Lee,” said Clinch, settling himself back oratorically in his chair, “my dear young lady, is a highwayman, but not of the common sort.  He is a gentleman born, madam, comes from one of the oldest families of the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  He never mixes himself up with anything but some of the biggest strikes, and he’s an educated man.  He is very popular with ladies and children; he was never known to do or say anything that could bring a blush to the cheek of beauty or a tear to the eye of innocence.  I think I may say I’m sure you found him so.”

“I shall never believe him anything but a gentleman,” said Mrs. Scott, firmly.

“If he has a defect, it is perhaps a too reckless indulgence in draw poker,” said the Colonel, musingly; “not unbecoming a gentleman, understand me, Mrs. Scott, but perhaps too reckless for his own good.  George played a grand game, a glittering game, but pardon me if I say an uncertain game.  I’ve told him so; it’s the only point on which we ever differed.”

“Then you know him?” said Mrs. Hale, lifting her soft eyes to the Colonel.

“I have that honor.”

“Did his appearance, Josephine,” broke in Hale, somewhat ostentatiously, “appear to ­er ­er ­correspond with these qualities?  You know what I mean.”

“He certainly seemed very simple and natural,” said Mrs. Hale, slightly drawing her pretty lips together.  “He did not wear his trousers rolled up over his boots in the company of ladies, as you’re doing now, nor did he make his first appearance in this house with such a hat as you wore this morning, or I should not have admitted him.”

There were a few moments of embarrassing silence.

“Do you intend to give that package to Mr. Falkner yourself, Colonel?” asked Mrs. Scott.

“I shall hand it over to the Excelsior Company,” said the Colonel, “but I shall inform Ned of what I have done.”

“Then,” said Mrs. Scott, “will you kindly take a message from us to him?”

“If you wish it.”

“You will be doing me a great favor, Colonel,” said Hale, politely.

Whatever the message was, six months later it brought Edward Falkner, the reestablished superintendent of the Excelsior Ditch, to Eagle’s Court.  As he and Kate stood again on the plateau, looking towards the distant slopes once more green with verdure, Falkner said ­

“Everything here looks as it did the first day I saw it, except your sister.”

“The place does not agree with her,” said Kate hurriedly.  “That is why my brother thinks of leaving it before the winter sets in.”

“It seems so sad,” said Falkner, “for the last words poor George said to me, as he left to join his cousin’s corps at Richmond, were:  ’If I’m not killed, Ned, I hope some day to stand again beside Mrs. Hale, at the window in Eagle’s Court, and watch you and Kate coming home!’”