"I am neither surprised nor disconcerted at your advice," was Fellows’ rejoinder. "It is, in fact, just what I expected from you. It is counsel which is quite in accordance with my own feelings, and what my conscience tells me is the correct course to pursue. I feel strongly disposed to act upon it at once; but I will just let the matter rest where it is at present, whilst I think over what you have said." "But there is still another bit of advice I should like to add, if I may," said Ranger. "I think I can guess what that is,—still you may as well give it." "Write at once home, and to your employers, a full account of all you have told me." "Why? In order that a detective may be put upon my track?" "That was not my idea. But if you fear such a result, then why not write your mother, and get her to call upon your firm with a statement from you, but without naming your present place of abode, and leave her to decide, after seeing them, whether it would be wise to let them know where you are?" "I am very much obliged to you, farmer; but as what you have suggested will require very careful thought, and very delicate handling, I will let that stand over for further consideration. It has waited so long that no harm will be done by a still further delay." "Except so far as your mother is concerned,—you do not know what state she may be in at present." "Quite true! Yet— Well, I will think it over, and let you know in a day or two." It was with that understanding they separated. But their rest would have been less easy had they known that all which had passed between them that night had been overheard, and was being treasured up for future use. *CHAPTER XVIII.* *A SNAKE IN THE GRASS.* "... Warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And overheard what you shall overhear." _Love’s Labours Lost_, Act V. sc. ii. Ranger’s homestead had been erected on a clearing, in the midst of what at one period was a well-wooded stretch of country, thickly overgrown with the pine, balsam, maple, and other trees indigenous to the soil, interspersed with a rich undergrowth of luxuriant vegetation, the alternate growth and reproduction of ages. The rear of this house, which all this wealth and prodigality of nature’s productions extended up to, had been left untouched by the axe or saw of the invader, except where a narrow path had been cleared to admit of easy access to a patch of garden-ground beyond. Here and there a trailing creeper had been captured, until it seemed to have become part and parcel of the dwelling itself, so that at times it was not easy to decide where the house ended and the scrub or wood began.