The ranger stared for a moment; then came forward and gave the fodder to the mare, pausing now and then and looking with oblique distrust down upon Luke Todd as he smoked his pipe. “I want ter tell ye, Tobe, ez some o' the mounting boys air a-sarchin fur ye outside.” “Who air they?” asked the ranger, calmly. His tone was so natural, his manner so unsuspecting, that a new doubt began to stir in Luke Todd's mind. “What ails ye ter keep the mare down hyar, Tobe?” he asked, suddenly. “Tears like ter me ez that be powerful comical.” “Kase,” said Tobe, reasonably, “some durned horse-thieves kem arter her one night. I fired at t'em. I hain't hearn on 'em sence. An' so I jes hid the mare.” Todd was puzzled. He shifted his pipe in his mouth. Finally he said: “Some folks 'lowed ez ye hed no right ter take up that mare, bein' ez ye war the ranger.” Tobe Gryce whirled round abruptly. “What war I a-goin' ter do, then? Feed the critter fur nuthin till the triflin' scamp ez owned her kem arter her? I couldn't work her 'thout takin' her up an' hevin her appraised. Thar's a law agin sech. An' I couldn't git somebody ter toll her off an' take her up. That ain't fair. What ought I ter hev done?” “Wa'al,” said Luke, drifting into argument, “the town-folks 'low ez ye hev got nuthin ter prove it by, the stray-book an' records bein' burnt. The town-folks 'low ez ye can't prove by writin' an' sech ez ye ever tried ter find the owner.” “The town-folks air fairly sodden in foolishness,” exclaimed the ranger, indignantly. He drew from his ample pocket a roll of ragged newspapers, and pointed with his great thumb at a paragraph. And Luke Todd read by the light of the lantern the advertisement and description of the estray printed according to law in the nearest newspaper. The newspaper was so infrequent a factor in the lives of the mountain gossips that this refutation of their theory had never occurred to them. The sheet was trembling in Luke Todd's hand; his eyes filled. The cavern with its black distances, its walls close at hand sparkling with delicate points of whitest light; the yellow flare of the lantern; the grotesque shadows on the ground; the fair little girl with her golden hair; the sleek black mare; the burly figure of the ranger--all the scene swayed before him. He remembered the gracious vision that had saluted him; he shuddered at the crime from which he was rescued. Pity him because he knew naught of the science of optics; of the bewildering effects of a sudden burst of light upon the delicate mechanism of the eye; of the vagaries of illusion. “Tobe,” he said, in a solemn voice--all the echoes were bated to awed whispers--“I hev been gin ter view a vision this night, bein' 'twar Chris-mus Eve. An' now I want ter shake hands on it fur peace.”