The Flaming Forest

self in his face. He did not speak. Slowly his outstretched arm dropped to the white counterpane. Later he called himself a fool for allowing it to happen, for it was as if h

ing in them. For the first time he saw the slightest flush of color in her cheeks. It deepened even as he held out his hand again. He knew that it was not embarrassment. It was the heat of the fire back of her eyes. "It's-funny," he said, making an effort to redeem himself with a lie and

was rather a poor attempt. And St. Pierre's wife did not seem to hear him. She was looking at him, looking into and t

er voice. "You are an honorable man, m'sieu. Your hand is against all wrong. Is i

. "Yes, i

u say you want to be the friend of a stran

of confessing to her the wild impulse that had moved him before he k

f you catch him-what will y

d," said David. "

lty for that?" She leaned toward him, waiting. Her hands were c

acknowledged. "But, of course

Audemard is a murderer. You know I tried to kill you. Then why is

est you and take you back to the Landing as soon as I can. But, you see, it strikes me there is a big personal element in this. I was the ma

'sieu? If it had been some one else behind that rock, I am quite certain he would have died. The Law, at least, would have called it murder.

as a fiend. He des

ps, m'

the beauty of Carmin Fanchet. The poise of her slender body, her glowing cheeks, her lus

ke that on the sand. Bateese says I was indiscreet, that I should have left you there to

ard her moving away from him.

make you comfo

. She was gone. And he was

one, had tremendously upset her, changing in an instant her attitude toward him. The thought that came to him made his face burn under its scrub of beard. Did she think he was a scoundrel? The dropping of his hand, the shock that must have betrayed itself in his face when she said she was St. Pierre's wife-had those things warn

er quick woman's instinct had told her there could be no distinction between them, unless there was a reason. And now Carrigan confessed to himself that there had been a reason. That reason had come to him with the first glimpse of her as he lay in the hot sand. He had fought against it in the canoe; it had mastered him in those thrilling moments wh

those few seconds of his proffered friendship. She saw only a man whom she had nearly killed, a man who represented the Law, a man whose power hel

nd that until the last moment she had believed it was another man behind the rock. Yet she had shown no inclination to explain away her error. She had definitely refused to make an explanation. And it was simply a matter of common sense to concede that ther

kened, just as the Superintendent of "N" Division had weakened that

er what her brother has been," McVane had sa

g, but had gone back into her wilderness uncrucified by the law that had demanded the life of her brother. He would never forget the last time he had seen Carmin Fanchet's

woman goes-justic

on regulations when it came t

assailable. If McVane had been comparing the two women now, he knew what his argument would be. There had been no absolute proof of crime against Carmin Fanchet, unless to fight desperately for the life

ed Bateese to dump him in the river. St. Pierre's wife had gone to the other extreme. She was not only repentant, but was making restitution, for her mistake, and in making that restitution had crossed far beyond the dead-line of caution. She had frankly told him who she was; she had brought him int

ss could have made it as it was. Nothing that wealth and toil could drag up out of a civilization a thousand miles away had been too good for St. Pierre's wife. And about him, looking more closely, David saw the undisturbed evidences of a woman's contentment. On the table were embroidery materials with which she had been working, and a lamp-shade half finished. A woman's magazine printed in a city four thousand miles away lay open at the fashion plates

m it. There was no other room. In making restitution she had given up to him her most sacred of all things. And again there rose up in him

bateau broke the strange stillness of the evening. He heard no sound of life, no voice, no tread of feet, and he wondered where the woman and her men had g