on
my hands!"

Then Mrs. Follet with her gentle strength made him quiet down enough
to tell them particulars, and she learned that Mr. Follet was to have
gone after a load of hay, and coming back would stop at the edge of
the wood leading to old man Greely's, walk into the woods a piece to
meet the men, and then, if the coast was clear, they'd hide the liquor
in the hay load. At the end she said:

"You must go, Nancy----"

"Yes," cried Mr. Follet, "you must go, child, and save Steve. Jim
Sutton will know you. They won't touch you, and they'll believe
you. I was a fool ever to have anything to do with that moonshine
business!"

But Nancy was already out of the room flying for the stable. There was
no thought of riding habit or saddle. Throwing a bridle over Gyp's
head, she sprang upon his back and like the wind the two rushed forth
into the midnight stillness. Would she be in time to save him? It had
been so long since he left the house. Oh, would she be too late? She
urged Gyp wildly on and on, along the road directly towards the Greely
woods, where she would find the moonshiners, and perhaps,--oh,
perhaps! God only knew what else she might find.

Every throbbing pulse beat became a prayer that she might be in time
to save him.

* * * * *

Meanwhile Steve, upon leaving Mr. Follet, had not gone out into the
street, but crossing the lawn into the driveway he went past the
stable to the wood back of the house from whence he had come so many
years ago. His mind and heart were in a tumult. He scarcely thought
where he was going till he suddenly became conscious that he was in
the old wood where he had rescued Nancy so long ago. Little Nancy! And
he had loved her ever since consciously or unconsciously. But she was
completely lost to him now,--that was final. The fair dream-structure
which had risen anew that afternoon had fallen again in a tragic
moment's space. The mountain blood in Mr. Follet would never forget
or forgive. He must leave the place forever. He was adrift again in
the world. There would never be tender home ties for him,--he could
never love another, no one could be a part of his very self like
little Nancy. He dropped down upon a little seat which he had fixed
there for her in the old days, and was lost in depressed thought,
taking no note of how long he remained.

The stillness of the wood quieted him finally, as it had always done,
and he remembered hi