For Jepson knew well that this man had been warned, and that he had flung himself for safety upon the truth, perchance with some slight admixture, realizing that the boldness of innocence alone could rescue him. As to Baintree, it was eminently in character that he should cringe, and cower, and lurk in hiding, knowing that the investigation by vigilantes impended. Nevertheless, despite Clem’s confidences to Marcella and the warning which she had doubtless conveyed, it was evident that the facts could be elicited here and now as well as if the men had been taken by surprise. The stranger made no resistance to the inquiry, and this indicated that he recognized its inevitable character, and had not sought to shirk it. Jepson went on steadily, unmoved by any consideration save the effort to perform his duty to the organization that had intrusted him with his mission. But notwithstanding its paramount interest, it seemed secondary in importance, in Clem’s estimation, to the necessity of forging the bit of metal on the anvil, and the subsequent conversation took place annotated by his ringing blows, from which the stranger, his nerves on the rack, palpably recoiled, but which had scant effect on the more impassive mountaineer, save to induce him to slightly lift his voice. “How long hev ye been bidin’ in the mountings?” “Since August.” “Dell-law!” commented Mrs. Sanders. “Ye hev kep’ yerse’f mightily ter yerse’f; I’ll say that fur ye.” The logical inference might be that she commended his magnanimity in sparing them his society. But the good woman meant nothing of this kind, her exclamation being simply a rural formula. “Who hev ye bided with?” demanded Jepson. The stranger colored slightly. Then making an effort to put the matter in its most favorable aspect, he replied with some show of communicativeness:— “With Baintree. You see I was his doctor—I am a physician by profession—when he was in jail in Glaston, the regular jail-physician being ill himself, and Baintree told me about the silver mine he thought he had discovered. So I came to see if it were true. I happen to know something about mining. But Jake,—he’s a queer fish,—he wasn’t willing for anybody to know what we were after. I believe he never tells me truly where his best find was; he thinks somebody will chouse him out of it yet.” “Ez ef ennybody would hev it,” exclaimed Mrs. Sanders, with sweeping contempt, “an’ ez ef thar war enny ter hev!” “Whar hev ye bided with him?” asked Jepson, seemingly all unaffected by any phase of the detail. “Waal, Teck Jepson!” cried Mrs. Sanders, scandalized by his curiosity, as she construed his persistence, “ye mus’ hev hed yer tongue iled. I hev never hearn sech a lot o’ whys an’ wharfores ez it hev got on ter the e-end o’ it ter-night.” But the catechumen responded at once, scarcely waiting for her to finish her sentence. “We stayed for a while in a deserted house,—the old Jepson house, he said it was.”