Madge had been watching him with new intentness.  The excitement of the moment may have sharpened the girl’s wits, or, possibly, its hint of peril may have brought to Holton’s face some detail of expression, which, during recent weeks, had not before appeared upon it.

“But I kin,” she said, slowly.  “I war right in what I thought when I first saw you in th’ mountings.  I had seen your face afore!”

“Don’t you dare say that!” cried Holton, stepping toward her angrily.  The man who had been the accuser, was, strangely, now, quite plainly, half at bay.

“That look ag’in!” the girl said, studying his face.  “That look war printed on my baby brain!”

“Silence, I say!” cried Holton, now badly frightened.  He had not counted on this recognition.

“Never!” the girl said boldly.  She was certain, now, as she looked at him, that the suspicion which had flashed into her mind was accurate.  Her cheeks paled and she stepped toward him with set face, clenched hands.  Every fibre in her thrilled with horror of him, every drop of blood in her young body cried for vengeance on him.  “I’ll rouse th’ world ag’in ye!” she exclaimed, so tensely that even Lorey looked at her with alarmed amazement.  “I’ll rouse th’ world ag’in ye, for I’m standin’ face to face with my own father’s murderer—­Lem Lindsay!”

“Lem Lindsay!” said Joe, wonderingly, and then, with the expression on his face of a wild-beast about to spring upon his prey:  “At last!”

Holton shrank away from them in terror which he could not hide.  His bravado was all gone.  He was, no longer, the accuser, but, with the mention of that name, had changed places with Joe Lorey and become the fugitive, shrinking, alarmed.

“’Sh!  Don’t speak that name!” he pleaded.  He made no effort at denial.  There was that in the girl’s eyes which told him that her recognition had been absolute.  “I’ve been hidin’ it for years.”  He spoke pleadingly.  “Look hyar.  I’ve got everythin’ that heart can wish.  Joe Lorey, I’ll save you from them men.  I’ll sw’ar I saw you leave the stable afore th’ fire begun.”  He moved his eyes from one of the accusing faces to the other, terrified.  “I’ll make ye both rich if you’ll never speak that name ag’in!”

[Illustration:  “I’M STANDIN’ FACE TO FACE WITH MY OWN FATHER’S MURDERER—­LEM LINDSAY”]

“Your weight in gold would make no differ!” Joe cried menacingly.  “Lem Lindsay, it air Heaven’s work that’s given you into my hands!” He went toward him slowly, menacingly, with his strong fingers working with desire to clutch his shrinking throat.  “It air Heaven’s will as you should meet your fall through Ben Lorey’s son!”

Holton, desperate, gathered courage for a last effort to escape from the net which he had woven to his own undoing.  With a quick movement he drew from his belt, where his long coat had concealed its presence, hitherto, a gleaming knife, and, with it upraised, rushed at Joe viciously.  “I’m a free man, yet,” he cried, “an’ I’m a-goin’ to stay free!”