The home of Mrs. Comstock and Elnora adjoined the swamp.  Sinton’s land lay next, and not another residence or man easy to reach in case of trouble.  Whoever wrote that note had some human kindness in his breast, but the fact stood revealed that he feared his strength if Elnora were delivered into his hands.  Where had he been the previous night when he heard that prayer?  Was that the first time he had been in such proximity?  Sinton drove fast, for he wished to reach the swamp before Elnora and the Bird Woman would go there.

At almost four he came to the case, and dropping on his knees studied the ground, every sense alert.  He found two or three little heel prints.  Those were made by Elnora or the Bird Woman.  What Sinton wanted to learn was whether all the remainder were the footprints of one man.  It was easily seen, they were not.  There were deep, even tracks made by fairly new shoes, and others where a well-worn heel cut deeper on the inside of the print than at the outer edge.  Undoubtedly some of Corson’s old gang were watching the case, and the visits of the women to it.  There was no danger that any one would attack the Bird Woman.  She never went to the swamp at night, and on her trips in the daytime, every one knew that she carried a revolver, understood how to use it, and pursued her work in a fearless manner.

Elnora, prowling around the swamp and lured into the interior by the flight of moths and butterflies; Elnora, without father, money, or friends save himself, to defend her—­Elnora was a different proposition.  For this to happen just when the Limberlost was bringing the very desire of her heart to the girl, it was too bad.

Sinton was afraid for her, yet he did not want to add the burden of fear to Katharine Comstock’s trouble, or to disturb the joy of Elnora in her work.  He stopped at the cabin and slowly went up the walk.  Mrs. Comstock was sitting on the front steps with some sewing.  The work seemed to Sinton as if she might be engaged in putting a tuck in a petticoat.  He thought of how Margaret had shortened Elnora’s dress to the accepted length for girls of her age, and made a mental note of Mrs. Comstock’s occupation.

She dropped her work on her lap, laid her hands on it and looked into his face with a sneer.

“You didn’t let any grass grow under your feet,” she said.

Sinton saw her white, drawn face and comprehended.

“I went to pay a debt and see about this opening of the ditch, Kate.”

“You said you were going to prosecute me.”

“Good gracious, Kate!” cried Sinton.  “Is that what you have been thinking all day?  I told you before I left yesterday that I would not need do that.  And I won’t!  We can’t afford to quarrel over Elnora.  She’s all we’ve got.  Now that she has proved that if you don’t do just what I think you ought by way of clothes and schooling, she can take care of herself, I put that out of my head.  What I came to see you about is a kind of scare I’ve had to-day.  I want to ask you if you ever see anything about the swamp that makes you think the old Corson gang is still at work?”