efully, the girl wrapped the blanket around and around the little
one. Elsie whimpered disconsolately but made no objection. Anything was
better than being left with the men who tied her up. Lifting the bulky
bundle, Tess started for the door, Jake picked up the whip from the
floor, handed it to her.

"Ye're forgettin' somethin' ain't ye, brat? Ye'll be wantin' this, I'm
thinkin'," he chuckled.

"I can't ever thank you all enough," she flung back hoarsely, tucking
the whip into her coat pocket, "for giving me this chance at
Waldstricker."

Longman got up and opened the door and Tess stepped out into the storm,
carrying Waldstricker's daughter.

* * * * *

Deforrest Young was trying to calm his sister. Her frantic cries for her
baby contrasted strangely with the icy despair of the other mother he'd
tried to comfort. His heart, still sore from Boy's loss, bled in ready
sympathy to his sister's mourning. He grasped Helen's hands which were
tearing her hair.

"Don't!" he said. "We'll find her soon. By morning she'll be back home
again. Ebenezer has nearly every man around looking for her, ...
searching every barn and asking at every house.... Darling, do you think
you could stay here with Madelene and let me go out, too?"

"Yes, yes, go, but Oh, God, I shall die if you don't find her!"

Hour after hour men on horseback and men on foot hunted through the
hills and gullies for little Elsie Waldstricker.

It was almost twelve, when one by one Ebenezer's friends rode
sorrowfully home after a useless search.

CHAPTER LI

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST

When Tessibel carried Elsie into the living room, she looked furtively
about to assure herself that Professor Young had not returned during her
absence. Only Andy should know! He would help her--he, too, loved Boy
with all his soul. The little girl still in her arms, she hurried up the
stairs to her own room, and after removing the blanket, placed her in a
chair. Elsie stared about, too frightened and tired even to whimper. The
whip fell to the floor and Tess picked it up. For a long time, she held
it in her hand, meditatively trying its strength and suppleness while
she glared at the child. Then she slipped quietly into the hall, still
carrying the riding crop at her side.

"Andy," she called softly. "Is Mother Moll asleep?"

Andy came out of his own room.

"Yes, she's asleep. I been singin' to her most ever since you been gone.
The