A man’s reply, too low and husky for coherence, made Tom turn quickly.

A young woman carrying a heavy parcel was approaching, a step or two in advance of a man. It required only a glance to see that she was trying to get away from him.

Tom strode to meet her, and recognized the girl with whom he had exchanged words at the camp adjoining Hudnall’s.

“Is that fellow bothering you?” demanded Tom.

“He insulted me,” she replied.

Tom broke into swift strides toward the offender.

“Say, you!” he called, forcibly. But the man hurried away, at a pace that would have necessitated running to catch him.

“Never mind. Let him go,” said the girl, with a little laugh of relief.

“This town is full of ruffians. You should not have come in alone,” was Tom’s reply.

“I know. It’s happened before. I wasn’t afraid—but I’m glad you came along.”

“That package looks heavy. Let me carry it,” offered Tom.

“Thank you, I can manage very well,” she returned.

But he took it away from her, and in so doing touched her hand. The effect on Tom was sudden and profound. For the moment it destroyed his naturalness.

“Well—I—it is heavy—for a girl,” he said, awkwardly.

“Oh, I’m very strong,” she rejoined.

Then their eyes met again, as they had when Tom had reached for the horse and looked at her. Only this time it seemed vastly different. She looked away, across the open toward the grove where fires gleamed in the gathering twilight. Then she moved. Tom fell into step beside her. He wanted to talk, but seemed unable to think of anything to say. This meeting was not an ordinary incident. He could not understand himself. He wanted to ask her about who she was, where she was going, what relation she bore to the rude man who had called her Milly. Yet not a word could he utter. He could have spoken surely, if he had not been concentrating on the vagueness and uncertainty of himself.

Before they had quite reached the edge of the grove she stopped and confronted him.

“Thank you,” she said, softly. “I’ll carry it now.”

“No. We’re still a long distance from your camp.”

“Yes—that’s why,” she returned, haltingly. “You must not go with me… . He—my stepfather, you heard him. I—I can’t tell you more.”

Tom did not yield up the parcel with very good grace. “I may never see you again!” he burst out.

She did not answer, but as she relieved him of the package she looked up, straight and clear into his face. Her eyes held him. In them he read the same thought he had just exclaimed aloud. Then she bade him good night, and turning away, vanished in the gloom of the grove.

Not until she was gone did Tom awake to a realization that this chance meeting, apparently so natural on her part and kindly on his, just an incident of travel, two strangers exchanging a few civilities, was the most significant and appealing and thought-provoking experience of his life. Why had he not detained her, just a moment, to ask for the privilege of seeing her again? Still, he could see her to-morrow.