ng out of the ways of doubt and pain and misunderstanding, into so
full and sweet a communion, the November breeze had been rising; toward
dawn it moved quite steadily. And with its impulse moved the cedar tree,
a long, smooth swaying, that set free that tender, baritone legato to
which Judith's ears had harkened away last March, when she came home from
Hepzibah after first seeing Creed Bonbright. It was the voice which had
talked to her throughout the spring, the early summer, through autumn's
desolate days, when the waiting in ignorance of his whereabouts and of
his welfare seemed almost more than she could bear; it was the voice
which had called upon her so tragically, so insistently, the night of the
raid on Nancy Card's cabin. But Creed himself was here now; Creed's own
lips spoke close to her ear. The cedar tree had its song to itself once
more; she no longer needed its music. Its sound was unheard by her, as
the flame of a candle is unseen in the strong light of the sun.

Chapter XXVIII

A Prophecy

Over the shoulder of Yellow Old Bald up came the sun, bannered and
glorious; the distant ranges glowed in his splendours; the sere fields
about the place were all gilded. The small-paned eastern window of the
sick-room let in a flood of morning light. Gone was the bird choir that
used to welcome his earliest rays, swept south by the great tide of
migration. Those that remained, snowbird, cardinal, and downy
woodpecker--the "checkerbacker" of the mountaineer,--harboured all night
and much of the day in the barn loft and in Judith's cedar tree. Their
twittering sounded cheerily about the eaves.

Back and forth in the puncheon-floored kitchen trudged old Dilsey Rust's
heavy-shod foot, carrying her upon the appointed tasks of the day.

In the quiet sick-room, where the low, alternating voices had subsided
into an exchange of murmured words, suddenly Creed dropped his head back
to stare at his companion with startled eyes.

"Judith!" he exclaimed. "Where are the boys?"

He glanced at the window, then about the room.

"It's broad day. That word Blatch sent was a decoy; Huldah Spiller isn't
on the mountain. Somebody must go over there."

Judith rose swiftly to her feet.

"My Lord, Creed! I forgot all about 'em," she said contritely. "Ye don't
reckon Blatch would harm the boys? And yet yo' right--it does look bad. I
don't know what to do, honey. They ain't a man on the place till Uncle
Jep comes. But maybe