Full well she knew now what must have been in his heart that last evening and why he acted as he did. Hannah had told her the bitter truth, as she had since realized. Ray had been assured that she was an outcast, and despicable in the sight of Greenvale. He dared not say "I love you; be my wife." Instead, he had been hurried away to keep them apart; and as all this dire flood of shame that had driven her from Greenvale surged in her heart, the bitter tears came. In calmer moments, and when the heart-hunger controlled, she had hoped he might some day find her and some day say, "I love you." But now, so soon, to make herself known, to tell who she was, to admit to these new friends that she was Chip McGuire with all that went with it, to have to face and live down that shame, to admit that she had taken Ray's first name for her own--no, no, a thousand times no! But what of Old Cy and Uncle Jud, and their lifelong separation? Truly her footsteps had led her to a parting of the ways, one sign-board lettered "Duty and Shame," the other a blank. CHAPTER XXIX "Good luck comes now 'n' then; bad luck drops 'round frequently."--Old Cy Walker. When Old Cy emerged from the cave, his face glorified and heart throbbing with the blessings now his to give Chip, he looked about with almost fear. The two abandoned canoes and the trusty rifle had seemed an assurance of tragic import, and yet no proof of this outlaw's death. That this cave had been his lair, could not be doubted; and so momentous was this discovery, and so anxious was Old Cy to rescue this fortune, that he trembled with a sudden dread. But no sign of human presence met his sweeping look. The lake still rippled and smiled in the sunlight. Two deer, a buck and doe, were feeding on the rush-grown shore just across, while at his feet that rusty rifle still uttered its fatal message. Once more Old Cy glanced all about, and then entered the cave again. Here, in the dim light and with trembling hands, he filled the cans once more, and almost staggering, so faint was he from excitement, he hurried to the canoe, and packing them in its bow, covered the precious cargo with his blanket. Then he ran like a deer back to the cave, closed it with the slab, grasped his rifle, and not even looking at the rusty one, bounded down the path to his canoe again, launched it, and pushed off. Never before had it seemed so frail a craft. And now, as he swung its prow around toward the outlet, a curious object met his eyes. Far up the lake, and where no ripple concealed it, lay what looked like a floating log, clasped by a human arm.