they held their
way homeward, and no word of comment on her extraordinary and
immodest--according to the colonel's view--conduct fell from his lips
until they were free from the crowd. Then the colonel:

"Well, Alice?"

"Yes, Father."

"Why did you do it--why didn't you let him tell it, child? They'll hang
him now, I tell you, they'll hang that boy as sure as sundown! And he's
no more guilty of that old man's death than I am."

"No, he isn't," said she.

"Then why didn't you let him talk, Alice? What do you know?"

"I don't know anything--anything that would be evidence," she replied.
"But he's been a man all through this cruel trial, and I'd rather see
him die a man than live a coward!"

"They'll hang that boy, Alice," said the colonel, shaking his head
sadly. "Nothing short of a miracle can save him now."

"No, they'll never do that," said she, in quiet faith.

The colonel looked at her with an impatient frown.

"What's to save him, child?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, thoughtfully. Then she proceeded, with an
earnestness that was almost passionate: "It isn't for himself that he's
keeping silent--I'm not afraid for _him_ on account of what they wanted
to make him tell! Can't you see that, Father, don't you understand?"

"No," said the colonel, striking the pavement sharply with his stick,
"I'll be switched if I do! But I know this bad business has taken hold
of you, Alice, and changed you around until you're nothing like the girl
I used to have.

"It's too melancholy and sordid for you to be mixed up in. I don't like
it. We've done what we can for the boy, and if he wants to be stubborn
and run his neck into the noose on account of some fool thing or another
that he thinks nobody's got a right to know, I don't see where you're
called on to shove him along on his road. And that's what this thing
that you've done today amounts to, as far as I can see."

"I'm sorry that you're displeased with me, Father," said she, but with
precious little indication of humility in her voice, "but I'd do the
same thing over again tomorrow. Joe didn't want to tell it. What he
needed just then was a friend."

That night after supper, when Colonel Price sat in the library gazing
into the coals, Alice came in softly and put her arm about his
shoulders, nestling her head against his, her cheek warm against his
temple.

"You think I'm a bold, brazen creature, Father, I'm afraid," she said.

"The farthest thin