The drawer of the kitchen table was open--pulled far out. Her eyes caught the gray sheen of steel. She had never seen these articles except as so many cooking-utensils. But they were more than that; they were weapons. They were knives. And knives were for both defense and offense. She crossed the room and picked out one--a thin-bladed, pointed knife worn down by much use. She thrust this into her bosom and returned to the door. She unlocked it, swung it open, and went out into the dew-wet grass. The cool of the unwarmed dawn air which met her hot skin and bathed her eyes and refreshed her dry throat as she drank it deep into her lungs, braced her like wine. Down the serpentine drive she went walking with long, steady strides, unhurried in spite of her excited heart and with chin well up. She wore no hat; no coat. She needed none. Her brown hair, which had not been as carefully arranged as usual this morning, soon fell loose until it hung all about her flushed cheeks gypsy-wise. Had any one glimpsed her, he would surely have thought it Roxie who was abroad at such an hour. For though taller she was walking with that rhythmic swing, all from the hips down, which only those acquire who have lived long in mountain country and walked much. And her feet were sure on the rocky ground. The sky grew pink in the east, but she saw it not. Birds began to stir and sing among the wet leaves, but she heard them not. Squirrels began to chatter--squirrels she loved to stop and tease--but she gave no heed to them. As far as she was concerned this colorful, vibrant world about her was as desolate as the moon surface. Her thoughts were all of the man towards whom she was speeding. She knew this road well. It was the same she had taken with him after that adventure in the sunlit cove which lay so near the mountain path leading to Bud’s shack. She had laughed at her father’s fears when the latter warned them to avoid that neighborhood. How trivial that whole incident now seemed to her, and yet it had played its part. It was playing its part now. It was leading her with sure feet to his side. But what was she going to find after she reached his side? It was a question she fought off. And yet, batlike, the question returned to circle again and again around her thoughts.