“I meant you to hear,” he returned in a whisper.  “Do not be afraid.”  In a louder tone he continued.  “I must go for supplies, Miss Andres.  I will be back to-morrow noon.”

He stepped around the corner of the cabin, and was gone.

Sibyl Andres faced James Rutlidge, without speaking.  She was not afraid, now, as she had always been in his presence, until that day when he had so plainly declared himself to her and she met his advances with a gun.  The convict’s warning to the man who could send him back to prison for practically the remaining years of his life, had served its purpose in giving her courage.  She did not believe that, for the present, Rutlidge would dare to do otherwise than heed the warning.

[Illustration:  Still she did not speak.]

James Rutlidge regarded her with a smile of triumphant satisfaction. 
“Really,” he said, at last, “you do not seem at all glad to see me.”

She made no reply.

“I am frightfully hungry”—­he continued, with a short laugh, moving toward her as she stood in the door of the cabin—­“I’ve been walking since midnight I was in such a hurry to get here that I didn’t even stop for breakfast.”

She stepped out, and moved away from the door.

With another laugh, he entered the cabin.

Presently, when he had helped himself to food, he went back to the girl who had seated herself on a log, at the farther side of the little clearing.  “You seem fairly comfortable here,” he said.

She did not speak.

“You and my man get along nicely, I take it.  He has been kind to you?”

Still she did not speak.

He spoke sharply, “Look here, my girl, you can’t keep this up, you know. 
Say what you have to say, and let’s get it over.”

All the time, she had been regarding him intently—­her wide, blue eyes filled with wondering pain.  “How could you?” she said at last.  “Oh, how could you do such a thing?”

His face flushed.  “I did it because you have driven me mad, I guess.  From the first time I saw you, I have wanted you.  I have tried again and again, in the last three years, to approach you; but you would have nothing to do with me.  The more you spurned me, the more I wanted you.  Then this man, King, came.  You were friendly enough, with him.  It made me wild.  From that day when I met you in the mountains above Lone Cabin, I have been ready for anything.  I determined if I could not win you by fair means, I would take you in any way I could.  When my opportunity came, I took advantage of it.  I’ve got you.  The story is already started that you were the painter’s mistress, and that you have committed suicide.  You shall stay here, a while, until the belief that you are dead has become a certainty; then you will go East with me.”

“But you cannot do a thing so horrible!” she exclaimed “I would tell my story to the first people we met.”