"What does it mean, Sam?" asked Alice nervously.
"News, I hope," replied Thayor. "Go to sleep, dear; you need it."
The hide-out stood gazing nervously at the ground. "Do you feel better?" she asked, approaching him. "You are to sleep next to your father, I believe."
"Yes, marm," he stammered awkwardly; "I'm warm. Thank ye for the supper—I ain't hongry no more."
She nodded good night and went back to her blanket next to Margaret. Bending over the girl she lifted the mass of fair hair and kissed her on the forehead. Then she drew her own blanket about her.
Thayor and the hide-out seated themselves on a log lying on the other side of the fire, out of hearing.
"Mr. Thayor," began Dinsmore, after a moment's silence, "they've treated ye like a dog."
Thayor met the owl-like eyes grimly, a bitter smile playing about his unshaven chin, but he did not confirm the statement.
"But there's one that'll never trouble ye no more," exclaimed
Dinsmore, looking queerly at the man beside him.
"Who?" asked Thayor.