“I know him, boys. He doesn't mean any harm. He doesn't know the regulations yet. Suppose we let him go home.” “All right,” said Logan. “The calaboose or home. Will you go home?” In the moment, the mountain boy had apparently forgotten his captors--he was staring at June with wonder, amazement, incredulity struggling through the fumes in his brain to his flushed face. She--a Tolliver--had warned a stranger against her own blood-cousin. “Will you go home?” repeated Logan sternly. The boy looked around at the words, as though he were half dazed, and his baffled face turned sick and white. “Lemme loose!” he said sullenly. “I'll go home.” And he rode silently away, after giving Hale a vindictive look that told him plainer than words that more was yet to come. Hale had heard June's warning cry, but now when he looked for her she was gone. He went in to supper and sat down at the table and still she did not come. “She's got a surprise for you,” said Mrs. Crane, smiling mysteriously. “She's been fixing for you for an hour. My! but she's pretty in them new clothes--why, June!” June was coming in--she wore her homespun, her scarlet homespun and the Psyche knot. She did not seem to have heard Mrs. Crane's note of wonder, and she sat quietly down in her seat. Her face was pale and she did not look at Hale. Nothing was said of Dave--in fact, June said nothing at all, and Hale, too, vaguely understanding, kept quiet. Only when he went out, Hale called her to the gate and put one hand on her head. “I'm sorry, little girl.” The girl lifted her great troubled eyes to him, but no word passed her lips, and Hale helplessly left her.