so early called to
his rest. Flowers everywhere, and among them Sam lay smiling placidly at
his easily won laurels.

For the first time Andy gazed upon the face of death. The gentle dignity
and peace of the once wild boy awed and thrilled the onlooker. He was
dressed in his Continental uniform that was unsoiled by battle's breath,
albeit, an ugly hole in the breast showed where the gallant blood had
flowed forth.

"It's--it's wonderful!" gasped Andy.

"But we're not going to let him be wasted, are we Andy?" There was a
cruel break in the girl's voice. "We'll do his work, won't we? We'll
show the Britishers how we can repay, won't we, Andy?"

"Yes," breathed the boy, unable to turn his eyes from the noble, boyish
face, that was lighted by the gleam of the one lamp; "we'll show them!"

"See, Andy" (Ruth had gone to a corner cup-board and brought forth a
three-cornered cap), "this is Sam's; I found it in the bushes. Mother
says I may have it." She placed it upon Andy's head. "It just fits!" she
exclaimed. "If the time comes, Andy, you shall wear the cap. It will be
proof that I trust you. You will help if you can, won't you? Promise"
Andy."

"I promise, as God hears me, Ruth."

In the stillness the vow sounded awesome. The two clasped hands. All
the sting was gone. A great resolve to be ready to dare and die made
Andy strong and happy.

"Good-by, Ruth."

"Good-by, Andy, lad."

Out into the still night the boy passed. On the way back he saw Mrs.
White, but he hid beneath a bush until she had gone by. He reached home,
found the door barred, and so painfully reached his room by the aid of
the friendly vine.

CHAPTER II

A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

That was to be a night of experiences--the beginning, the real beginning
of Andy's life; all the rest had been preparation. After reaching his
room, he flung himself wearily upon the bed. How long he slept he could
not know, but he was suddenly aroused by a sharp knock on the outer door
below stairs. He sat up and listened. All was still except the trickling
of a near-by waterfall, which had outlived the dry weather.

For a moment Andy thought the knock was but part of a troubled dream; he
waited a moment, then, to make sure, limped over to the stairway and
peered down into the room below. A candle stood on the pine table, and,
at a chair near-by, knelt Janie McNeal, bowed in prayer. She had heard
the knock, but not until the lonely prayer was finished would