The Maid of the Whispering Hills

CHAPTER I THE VENTURERS

“Mercy!” shrieked little Francette, her red-rose face aghast, “he will begin before I can bring the help!”

Like a flash of flame the maid in her crimson skirt shot up the main way of Fort de Seviere to where the factory lay asleep in the warm spring sun.

On its log step, pipe in mouth, young Anders McElroy leaned against the jamb and looked smilin...