The lucky gold-seeker made no opposition to the proffered hospitality; and in five minutes after he was seated by the fireside of the man who, but five minutes before, had been chafing at having lost the opportunity of spilling his blood! STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. ANOTHER EAVESDROPPER. Jerry Rook and his guest had scarce closed the door behind them, when a man, who had been skulking behind the cottonwood, came out into the front, and paused upon the spot they had abandoned. He had been on the other side of the tree, from the time they had commenced their conversation, and heard it all. The man was Alfred Brandon! What had brought Alfred Brandon back to the cottonwood? The explanation is easy enough. The six resurrectionists did not go to Helena, as Jerry Rook had hinted they might do. On getting out of Jerry's clearing, only five of them turned towards the town, Brandon going off towards his own home, which was not far off, in the opposite direction. The planter, on parting with the others, instead of continuing homewards, sat down upon a stump by the side of the path, and taking out a cigar, commenced smoking it. He had no particular reason for thus stopping on his way, only that after such a disappointment he knew he could not sleep, and the cigar might do something to compose his exasperated spirit. The night was a lovely one, and he could pass a half-hour upon the stump with reflections not more wretched than those that awaited him in his sleeping-chamber. He was still within earshot of Jerry Rook's house, and he had scarce ignited his cigar, when a sound reached his ear from that direction. It was the yelp of a hound, close followed by the animal's howling. Soon after was heard the voice of a man speaking in harsh accents, and soon after this another voice--a woman's. On the still silent night they were borne to Brandon's ears with sufficient distinctness for him to recognise them as the voices of Jerry Rook and his daughter. It did not need either the angry accent of the one, nor the affecting tone of the other, to draw Alf Brandon to the spot. Starting up from the stump, and flinging himself over the fence, he proceeded towards the place where the voices were still heard in excited and earnest conversation. Had Brandon not feared discovering himself to the speakers, he might have been up in time to see Pierre Robideau step forth from the cavity of the tree, and Lena Rook protecting him from the wrath of her father. But the necessity of approaching unobserved, by skulking along the creek and keeping under cover of the canes, delayed him, and he only arrived behind the cottonwood as the young lady was being ordered into the house.