feeling.

But Jessie was nowhere to be seen, and a shadow of disappointment
clouded his face as he halted the only too willing beast and clambered
down between the spidery wheels. Nor did he wait to secure his
faithful servitor, or to think of anything practical at all. He
hustled up to the open doorway, and, pushing his head in through it,
called till the echoes of the place rang--

"Ho, Jess! Ho, you, Jess! It's me--Zip! I come to fetch you to home."

The echoes died away and the place became still again. And somehow the
quiet of it set him bristling. His hands flew to his guns and remained
there while he stood listening. But no answer came, and his redundant
hope slowly ebbed, leaving a muddy shore of apprehension.

Then, with one glance back over his shoulder, he moved into the
building with much the stealth of a thief. In the living-room he stood
and stared about him uncertainly. It was the same room he had been in
before, and he remembered its every detail. Suddenly he pushed the
evil of those recollections aside and called again--

"Ho, Jess! Ho-o-o!"

But the confidence had gone from his tone, and his call suggested an
underlying doubt.

Again came the echoes. Again they died. Then--yes--there was a sound
that had nothing to do with echoes. Again--yes--sure. It was the sound
of someone moving in an upper room. He listened attentively, and again
his eyes brightened with ready hope.

"Jess! Jess!" he called.

And this time there was an answer.

Without a moment's hesitation, without a second's thought, he dashed
through an open doorway and ran up the narrow flight of stairs
beyond.

At last, at last! His Jessie! He had heard her voice. He had heard the
music he had longed for, craved for, prayed for. Was there anything in
the world that mattered else? Was there anything in the world that
could keep him from her now? No, not now. His love permeated his whole
being. There was no thought in his mind of what she had done. There
was no room in his simple heart for anything but the love he could not
help, and would not have helped if he could. There was no obstacle
now, be it mountain or stream, that he could not bridge to reach his
Jessie. His love was his life, and his life belonged to--Jessie.

He reached the top of the stairs, and a door stood open before him. He
did not pause to consider what lay beyond. His instinct guided him.
His love led him whither it would, and it led him straight into the
pr