"Permit me to make myself known to you. My name is Lapelle,--Barry Lapelle. While mine no doubt is unfamiliar to you, yours is well known to me. In fact, it is known to every one in these parts. You have long been expected. You will find the town anxiously awaiting your appearance." He smiled slightly. "If you could arrange to arrive after nightfall, I am sure you would find bonfires and perhaps a torchlight procession in your honour. As it is, I rather suspect our enterprising citizen, Mr. William Smith, will fire a salute when you appear in view." "A salute?" exclaimed Kenneth blankly. "A joyful habit of his, but rather neglected of late. It used to be his custom, I hear, to put a charge of powder in a stump and set it off whenever a steamboat drew up to the landing. That was his way of letting the farmers for miles around know that a fresh supply of goods had arrived and they were to hurry in and do the necessary trading at the store. He almost blew himself and his store to Hallelujah a year or two ago, and so he isn't quite so enterprising as he was. I am on my way to town, Mr. Gwynne, so if you do not mind, I shall give myself the pleasure of riding along with you for a short distance. I shall have to leave you soon, however, as I am due in the town by ten o'clock. You are too heavily laden, I see, to travel at top speed,--and that is the way I am obliged to ride, curse the luck. When I have set you straight at the branch of the roads a little way ahead, I shall use the spurs,--and see you later on." "You are very kind. I will be pleased to have you jog along with me." CHAPTER VI BARRY LAPELLE So this was Barry Lapelle. This was the wild rake who might yet become his brother-in-law, and whose sprightly enterprise had been frustrated by a woman who had, herself, stolen away in the dark of a far-off night. As they rode slowly along, side by side, into the thick of the forest, Kenneth found himself studying the lover's face. He looked for the signs of the reckless dissipated life he was supposed to have led,--and found them not. Lapelle's eyes were bright and clear, his skin unblemished, his hand steady, his infrequent smile distinctly engaging. The slight, disdainful twist never left the corner of his mouth, however. It lurked there as a constant reminder to all the world that he, Barry Lapelle, was a devil of a fellow and was proud of it. While he was affable, there was no disguising the fact that he was also condescending. Unquestionably he was arrogant, domineering, even pompous at times, absolutely sure of himself.