went to the cabin door, walking straight-backed and
uncompromising, every mental and physical fiber of
her braced for the coming struggle. She even re-
gretted not having a gun; rather, she wished that she
was not more afraid of a gun than of any possible
need of one. She felt, at that minute, as though she
could shoot Bud Moore with no more compunction
that she would feel in swatting a fly.

That the cabin was empty and unlocked only made
her blood boil the hotter. She went in and looked
around at the crude furnishings and the small per-
sonal belongings of those who lived there. She saw
the table all set ready for the next meal, with the ex-
tremely rustic high-chair that had DYNAMITE
painted boldly on the side of the box seat. Fastened
to a nail at one side of the box was a belt, evidently
kept there for the purpose of strapping a particularly
wriggly young person into the chair. That smacked
strongly of Lovin Child, sure enough. Marie re-
membered the various devices by which she had
kept him in his gocart.

She went closer and inspected the belt indignantly.
Just as she expected -- it was Bud's belt; his old belt

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