"That old fellow has got something on his mind, Mr. Wade," he said, earnestly, "and it may be bad business. My men have been talking here to-day, as men will talk, though I advised them to keep their mouths shut. It may bring the 'Lazy Tom' crowd into the thing. If there's bad business on, I want you to be able to say outside that I haven't messed into affairs that wa'n't mine. It may have to be proved in court, and the word of a gentleman like you is worth that of fifty rattle-brained choppers." "I don't understand, Mr. Withee. I can't appear as witness in matters I haven't seen." "You can say I was here on the fire-line attendin' to my own business when it happened--if it has happened," cried Withee. "You can say that I had no hand in it. It's this way, Mr. Wade, if you haven't heard. Did any of my men tell you that John Barrett--you've heard of 'Stumpage John' Barrett--was at my camp last night?" "I heard nothing of it," said Wade. He leaned forward with excitement in his face, for the tone and the air of the lumberman were ominous. "He was at my camp, and Lane, the Jerusalem warden, after having words with him over an old matter between them, made Mr. Barrett go away into the woods with him--and I think Lane was about half crazy at the time." "And you let an insane man force Mr. Barrett into the woods?" demanded Wade, indignantly. Withee straightened, and his face took on a sort of sullen pride. "It's on that point that I want to explain to you, for my own sake. I don't know whether you're a friend of John Barrett's or whether you ain't. But when I hear him confess right before me that he has stolen away another man's wife and broken up that man's home forever, and has never done anything to square himself, then I let that matter alone, for it's a matter between man and man. And my men and I let John Barrett and Linus Lane settle their own business." "How?" cried Wade, his face pale. "My God, man, it can't be that John Barrett did a thing like--" "I heard him own to it," persisted Withee. "And what's more, it's John Barrett's daughter that lived with the Skeets and the Bushees, abandoned by him. And when I know a thing like that about a man, Mr. Wade, he can't look to Barn Withee to stand behind him." Dwight Wade staggered back against the tree and put his arms around it to steady himself. Had he not seen the girl he might have scorned to believe such a story. But all his first emotions at sight of her there in her squalid surroundings rushed back upon him now. He had seen in this forest waif too many suggestions of Elva Barrett, and had been ashamed to own to himself that his heart confessed as much, as though it were an insult to the girl who reigned in his heart. "So, I say," repeated Withee, as if to reassure himself, "I let them settle their own business." "But how?" gasped the young man.