"For one thing," said Pen, "the fields have never been searched. I see you send your men up the road every morning. There are hollows in the fields where a man could lie concealed. Some of the fields are growing up with young pine that would afford cover." Delehanty looked at her with unwilling respect. "Anything else?" he asked. "If he's in the woods when he heard the searchers approach how easy it would be to climb a tree until they had passed." "Are you going to search every tree in the woods?" he asked sarcastically. "No," said Pen. "Will you take a couple of my men along with you?" "No." Delehanty scowled darkly. "I shall call him as I go," said Pen. "If he saw or heard others with me he wouldn't be so likely to answer." "Suppose you find him and he refuses to give himself up?" "After three days without food he'd hardly be in a position to resist." "Would you undertake to bring him in?" "You can lend me a revolver if you want. I have none." "Not on your life!" sneered Delehanty. Pen shrugged. She had only mentioned the revolver as a bit of stage business anyway. "Go and find him if you want," said Delehanty, "but excuse me from taking any chances of having my gun slipped to him." Pen went back to the house and made up a packet of sandwiches. As she was setting out the second time she ran into Riever coming in by the drive. He had evidently been with Delehanty, and under his forced air of politeness an extraordinary conflict of feelings was suggested; hope, distrust and a gnawing curiosity. He would not speak of what was in his mind, of course. "Where are you setting out for so busily?" he asked with a false air of blitheness. Pen was blunt enough. "I believe this man is starving somewhere on the place, and I'm going to find him if I can." Riever put on a look of gladness and delight. The guiding rule of his kind is that by assuming a thing to be so you make it so. He therefore assumed that Pen had come over to his side, that the millions had won out, that he and she were now one in sympathy. It need hardly be mentioned though, that his eye still rolled with a hideous doubt. "Oh, that's fine of you!" he said ... "But it's dangerous!" "He wouldn't hurt me," said Pen. Riever ground his teeth secretly. "How can you be sure?" he said with a great air of solicitude. "Because I helped him in the beginning. I fed him." "But you've thought better of it now?" murmured Riever. "I'm going to find him if I can." "I believe you're out after the reward!" Riever said, with a ghastly sort of facetiousness. Pen caught at the suggestion. If she were obliged to bring Don in, the money might make all the difference to them. "Well, why not?" she said. "I could use the money as well as anybody." There was a quality of eagerness in her voice that could hardly have been feigned. For the moment it lulled his doubts. "There's nobody I'd rather pay it to," he said grinning.