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Rh When I reached the ground she didn't say a word—just let her eyes rest on mine. After that I was more careful.

HEN something happened.

I was hoeing corn one afternoon in a field next the road when I spied a woman coming along from the village. She was big and blowsy and was wearing a shawl. I knew she was headed for Black Jean's, because she climbed through the fence on his side of the road.

Keeping her in sight, I followed along my side and crossed over when I came to a place where she couldn't see me. I followed her because I knew she was the woman who had come to Black Jean when he first landed in the district. She walked up to the cabin, and I was wondering who she would find home, when out comes Black Jean.

"Snere!" he exclaimed, putting one hand to his eye. "Spik queeck! Ees it Marie?"

"Yes," the woman said. "I have come back."

Black Jean looked around fearfully.

"Wat you want?" he demanded.

"I'd like to know who knocked your eye out," she laughed.

Black Jean did not laugh.

"You steal hunder' dollar from me an' run 'way," he snalred. "Bagosh! You give me dat moenee."

"You fool!" said the woman. "You think I don't know where you got that money? You killed—"

A sound of rustling leaves in the wood nearby interrupted.

"Ssh!" hissed Black Jean, his face blanching. "For de love o' God, nod so loud."

He listened a moment; then his expression grew crafty. His teeth showed, and he went close to the woman and said something and started into the cabin.

The next instant I knew someone else had seen them. It was no other than the little ex-school teacher—and she was running away! I lay still a moment, scared out of my wits. Then I went home.

"Did you see Black Jean's wife?" my mother asked.

"You mean the school teacher woman?" I said.

"Yes," my mother said. "Who else?"

"I did," I said, "a while ago."

"I mean just now," said my mother, breathing quick. "She rushed in here, right into the house, and before I could stop her she snatched your father's rifle from the wall and ran out."

DIDN'T wait to hear more.

I set off through the fields for Black Jean's. Before I had run half the distance, I heard shooting, and it was father's rifle—I knew the sound of her only too well.

When I got to my spying-place it was all quiet at Black Jean's. I could not see a thing stirring about the cabin.

Then I thought of mother and started home. Father had gone over to the Cove that morning, with a load of wheat for the Yankee's mill, and wasn't to get back until late. So mother and I waited.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when we heard father's wagon, and I rushed outside.

"Hello, son," he exclaimed. "You're up late. And here's mother, too."

Father listened to what we told him, without saying a word.

"Well," he said, when we had finished. "I don't really see anything to worry about. Black Jean can take care of himself. Look there!"

He was pointing over here to this limekiln.

"Jean's had her loaded for a week," said father, "waiting for better weather."

Later, in the house, my father said: "It is none of our business, anyway."

And in a little he added, as if worried some: "But I am going over there after my rifle."

HE following Sunday—three days later—father and I went to Black Jean's to get the rifle.

The door of the cabin opened, and the little woman came out. She was carrying the rifle. Somehow, she looked thin and old and her hands were like