"Who's Smith? is the great question," interjected Dent. "Well, then, Miss Cameron, between you and me we don't ask that question in this country. Smith is Smith and Jones is Jones and that's the first and last of it. We all let it go at that."

But now the last row of shingles was in place, the last door hung, the last door-k.n.o.b set. The whole house stood complete, inside and out, top and bottom, when a tattoo beat upon a dish pan gave the summons to the supper table. The table was spread in all its luxurious variety and abundance beneath the poplar trees. There the people gathered all upon the basis of pure democratic equality, "Duke's son and cook's son," each estimated at such worth as could be demonstrated was in him. Fict.i.tious standards of values were ignored. Every man was given his fair opportunity to show his stuff and according to his showing was his place in the community. A generous good fellowship and friendly good-will toward the new-comer pervaded the company, but with all this a kind of reserve marked the intercourse of these men with each other. Men were taken on trial at face value and no questions asked.

This evening, however, the dominant note was one of generous and enthusiastic sympathy with the young rancher and his wife, who had come so lately among them and who had been made the unfortunate victim of a sinister and threatening foe, hitherto, it is true, regarded with indifference or with friendly pity but lately a.s.suming an ominous importance. There was underneath the gay hilarity of the gathering an undertone of apprehension until the Inspector made his speech. It was short and went straight at the mark. There was danger, he acknowledged.

It would be idle to ignore that there were ugly rumors flying. There was need for watchfulness, but there was no need for alarm. The Police Force was charged with the responsibility of protecting the lives and property of the people. They a.s.sumed to the full this responsibility, though they were very short-handed at present, but if they ever felt they needed a.s.sistance they knew they could rely upon the steady courage of the men of the district such as he saw before him.

There was need of no further words and the Inspector's speech pa.s.sed with no response. It was not after the manner of these men to make demonstration either of their loyalty or of their courage.

Cameron's speech at the last came haltingly. On the one hand his Highland pride made it difficult for him to accept gifts from any source whatever. On the other hand his Highland courtesy forbade his giving offense to those who were at once his hosts and his guests, but none suspected the reason for the halting in his speech. As Western men they rather approved than otherwise the hesitation and reserve that marked his words.

Before they rose from the supper table, however, there were calls for Mrs. Cameron, calls so insistent and clamorous that, overcoming her embarra.s.sment, she made reply. "We have not yet found out who was responsible for the originating of this great kindness. But no matter.

We forgive him, for otherwise my husband and I would never have come to know how rich we are in true friends and kind neighbors, and now that you have built this house let me say that henceforth by day or by night you are welcome to it, for it is yours."

After the storm of applause had died down, a voice was heard gruffly and somewhat anxiously protesting, "But not all at one time."

"Who was that?" asked Mandy of young Dent as the supper party broke up.

"That's Smith," said Dent, "and he's a queer one."

"Smith?" said Cameron. "The chap meets us everywhere. I must look him up."

But there was a universal and insistent demand for "the pipes."

"You look him up, Mandy," cried her husband as he departed in response to the call.

"I shall find him, and all about him," said Mandy with determination.

The next two hours were spent in dancing to Cameron's reels, in which all, with more or less grace, took part till the piper declared he was clean done.

"Let Macgregor have the pipes, Cameron," cried the Inspector. "He is longing for a chance, I am sure, and you give us the Highland Fling."

"Come Moira," cried Cameron gaily, handing the pipes to Macgregor and, taking his sister by the hand, he led her out into the intricacies of the Highland Reel, while the sides of the living-room, the doors and the windows, were thronged with admiring onlookers. Even Andy Hepburn's rugged face lost something of its dourness; and as the brother and sister together did that most famous of all the ancient dances of Scotland, the Highland Fling, his face relaxed into a broad smile.

"There's Smith," said young Dent to Mandy in a low voice as the reel was drawing to a close.

"Where?" she cried. "I have been looking for him everywhere."

"There, at the window, outside."

Even in the dim light of the lanterns and candles hung here and there upon the walls and stuck on the window sills, Smith's face, pale, stern, sad, shone like a specter out of the darkness behind.

"What's the matter with the man?" cried Mandy. "I must find out."

Suddenly the reel came to an end and Cameron, taking the pipes from young Macgregor, cried, "Now, Moira, we will give them our way of it,"

and, tuning the pipes anew, he played over once and again their own Glen March, known only to the piper of the Cuagh Oir. Then with cunning skill making atmosphere, he dropped into a wild and weird lament, Moira standing the while like one seeing a vision. With a swift change the pipes shrilled into the true Highland version of the ancient reel, enriched with grace notes and variations all his own. For a few moments the girl stood as if unwilling to yield herself to the invitation of the pipes. Suddenly, as if moved by another spirit than her own, she stepped into the circle and whirled away into the mazes of the ancient style of the Highland Fling, such as is mastered by comparatively few even of the Highland folk. With wonderful grace and supple strength she pa.s.sed from figure to figure and from step to step, responding to the wild mad music as to a master spirit.

In the midst of the dance Mandy made her way out of the house and round to the window where Smith stood gazing in upon the dancer. She quietly approached him from behind and for a few moments stood at his side. He was breathing heavily like a man in pain.

"What is it, Mr. Smith?" she said, touching him gently on the shoulder.

He sprang from her touch as from a stab and darted back from the crowd about the window.

"What is it, Mr. Smith?" she said again, following him. "You are not well. You are in pain."

He stood a moment or two gazing at her with staring eyes and parted lips, pain, grief and even rage distorting his pale face.

"It is wicked," at length he panted. "It is just terrible wicked--a young girl like that."

"Wicked? Who? What?"

"That--that girl--dancing like that."

"Dancing? That kind of dancing?" cried Mandy, astonished. "I was brought up a Methodist myself," she continued, "but that kind of dancing--why, I love it."

"It is of the devil. I am a Methodist--a preacher--but I could not preach, so I quit. But that is of the world, the flesh, and the devil and--and I have not the courage to denounce it. She is--G.o.d help me--so--so wonderful--so wonderful."

"But, Mr. Smith," said Mandy, laying her hand upon his arm, and seeking to sooth his pa.s.sion, "surely this dancing is--"

Loud cheers and clapping of hands from the house interrupted her. The man put his hands over his eyes as if to shut out a horrid vision, shuddered violently, and with a weird sound broke from her touch and fled into the bluff behind the house just as the party came streaming from the house preparatory to departing. It seemed to Mandy as if she had caught a glimpse of the inner chambers of a soul and had seen things too sacred to be uttered.

Among the last to leave were young Dent and the Inspector.

"We have found out the culprit," cried Dent, as he was saying good-night.

"The culprit?" said Mandy. "What do you mean?"

"The fellow who has engineered this whole business."

"Who is it?" said Cameron.

"Why, listen," said Dent. "Who got the logs from Bracken? Smith. Who got the Inspector to send men through the settlement? Smith. Who got the lumber out of the same Inspector? Smith. And the sash and doors out of Cochrane? Smith. And wiggled the shingles out of Newsome? And euchred old Scotty Hepburn into building the fireplace? And planned and bossed the whole job? Who? Smith. This whole business is Smith's work."

"And where is Smith? Have you seen him, Mandy? We have not thanked him,"

said Cameron.

"He is gone, I think," said Mandy. "He left some time ago. We shall thank him later. But I am sure we owe a great deal to you, Inspector d.i.c.kson, to you, Mr. Dent, and indeed to all our friends," she added, as she bade them good-night.

For some moments they lingered in the moonlight.

"To think that this is Smith's work!" said Cameron, waving his hand toward the house. "That queer chap! One thing I have learned, never to judge a man by his legs again."

"He is a fine fellow," said Mandy indignantly, "and with a fine soul in spite of--"

"His wobbly legs," said her husband smiling.

"It's a shame, Allan. What difference does it make what kind of legs a man has?"

"Very true," replied her husband smiling, "and if you knew your Bible better, Mandy, you would have found excellent authority for your position in the words of the psalmist, 'The Lord taketh no pleasure in the legs of a man.' But, say, it is a joke," he added, "to think of this being Smith's work."