Fifteen minutes later the two men, standing back among the trees, saw lights appear in the windows of Mrs. Gwyn's house. Then they turned and wended their way toward the public square. They had spoken but few words to each other while engaged in the stealthy enterprise, and then only in whispers. No one may know what was in the mind of the hunter, but in Kenneth's there was a readjustment of plans. A certain determined enthusiasm had taken the place of his previous depression. The excitement of possible conflict, the thrill of adventure had wrought a complete change in him. His romantic soul was aflame.
"See here, Stain," he began, when they were down the slope; "I've been thinking this matter over and I have come to the conclusion that the best thing for me to do is to go straight to Lapelle and tell him I am aware of his—"
"Say, you're supposed to be a lawyer, ain't you?" drawled his companion, sarcastically.
"Yes, I am," retorted Kenneth.
"Well, all I got to say is you'd make a better wood-chopper. Barry'd jest tell you to go to hell, an' that'd be the end of it as fer as you're concarned. Course, he'd give up the plan, but he'd make it his business to find out how you got wind of it. Next thing we'd know, Moll Hawk would have her throat slit er somethin',—an' I reckon that wouldn't be jest what most people would call fair, Mr. Gwynne. I guess we'd better let things slide along as they air an' ketch Mart an' his crowd in the act. You don't reckon that Barry is goin' to take a active part in this here kidnappin' job, do you? Not much! He won't be anywheres near when it happens. He's too cute fer that. You won't be able to fasten anything on him till it's too late to do anything."
Kenneth was properly humbled. "You are right, Stain. If you hear of anybody who wants to have some wood chopped, free of charge, I wish you'd let me know."
"Well," began the laconic Mr. Stain, "it takes considerable practice to get to be even a fair to middlin' woodchopper."