A cloud of dark suspicion hung over the head of Jutt Orlick.
Things had happened in the mountains the past two years which subsequently pointed accusing fingers in his direction. Unless he was present no one ever knew just where Orlick was.
Two years since he had disappeared and come back after nine months, wearing soldier's garb, which he had affected ever since.
He told lurid tales of his conquests and adventures with the Mexican revolutionists. He elaborated on the gilded splendor and the beautiful things that the big cities held.
He recounted deeds of heroism abroad in which he was sole hero and he poured these fabulous tales into Belle-Ann's ears at every opportunity.
At the end of his periodical migrations he always returned with a new horse, and sums of money that astounded the humble mountaineers.
For more than two years, Orlick had been determined to possess himself of Belle-Ann Benson. But he resolved first to free himself of Lem Lutts.
He had noted of late the subtle little courtesies exchanged between Belle-Ann and Lem, and he knew that they had arrived at the realization that they were not brother and sister. Was it not reasonable to conclude that, in view of the girl's beauty, it was only a matter of time before Lem would take Belle-Ann for his own?
The mere thought stirred Orlick's hot blood to a fury, as with a scowl he fixed his eyes upon the figure leading the downward trail and he was seized with a mad impulse to shoot Lem in the back.
His hand crept downward. The cool contact of steel in his holster woke him to his folly and he trailed along, curbing his impatience, resolved to follow to the letter the plan he had worked out to get Belle-Ann out of the mountains and away, or bring ruin down on the whole Lutts family.
When Lem Lutts returned to the cabin an hour later, with a large, tired man and a fagged-out horse, Orlick was not with them.
Old Lutts was pacing to and fro in the moonlight. He was occupied mainly with thoughts of his new church and the dedication on Sunday.
The stranger below was to him a matter of secondary concern. He had been a hunted man all his life. Therefore, there was neither novelty nor consternation in the reflection.
The old man stalked up to the horse-block and greeted the stranger.