It was a commendable stratagem to secure the retreat of her lover. Unfortunately it did not succeed. The old squatter was too cautious to be so easily deceived. "O, yes," he said; "I'll go 'long wi' ye into the house; but not afore I've fust seed whether thar ain't somethin' else in the holler o' this tree." His daughter trembled as he gazed towards the entrance, but her trembling turned to a convulsive agony, as she heard the cocking of his rifle, and saw him point it towards the dark cavity in the trunk. With a wild cry, she sprang forward, placing herself right before the muzzle of the gun. Then, in the terrible agitation of the moment, forgetting all else, she shouted: "Come out, Pierre, come out!" "Pierre!" cried the furious father. "What Pierre?" "Oh, father, it is Pierre Robideau!" It was well Lena Rook had grasped the barrel of the rifle and turned it aside, else along with the last speech the bullet would have passed through the body of Pierre, instead of over his head. But it was now too late, and Jerry Rook saw it. The young man had sprung out, and was standing by his side. Any attempt at violence on his part would have ended by his being dashed instantly to the earth. Beside Pierre Robideau he was like an old wasted wolf in the presence of a young, strong panther. He felt his inferiority, and cowered upon the instant. He even assumed the counterfeit of friendship. "Oh, 'tair you, Pierre, is it? I wouldn't a knowed yer. It's so long since I've seed yer. You kin go in, gurl. I want to hev some talk wi' Pierre." Lena looked as though she would have stayed. It was a look of strange meaning, but it wore off as she reflected that her lover could be in no danger now, and she walked slowly away. STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A COMPANION. For some seconds Jerry Rook stood in the shadow without saying a word, but thinking intensely. His thoughts were black and bitter. The return of Pierre Robideau would be nothing less than ruin to him, depriving him of the support upon which for years he had been living. Once Buck, Brandon, and Co. should ascertain that he they supposed dead was still living, not only would the payment be stopped, but they might demand to be recouped the sums of which he had so cunningly mulcted them. He had not much fear of this last. If they had not actually committed murder, they would still be indictable for the attempt; and though, under the circumstances, they might not fear any severe punishment, they would yet shrink from the exposure. It was not the old score that Jerry Rook was troubled about, but the prospect now before him. No more black mail; no money from any source; and Alf Brandon his creditor, now released from the bondage in which he had hitherto been held, spited by the rejection of yesterday, would lose no time in coming down upon him for the debt.