oom."

Rachel, rummaging in the closet, brought forth an old white
tam-o'-shanter. "That will do!" cried Ruth. "Now, don't make any
noise, but come."

They tiptoed through the house and out into the early morning. It was
still half dark, and the big-eyed poplars watched them suspiciously as
they hurried down to the road. Every branch and twig was covered with
ice, and the snow crackled under their feet.

"I 'spec' it's gwine be summer-time where you gwine at, Miss Rufe,"
said Rachel.

"I don't care," cried Ruth. "I don't want to be anywhere in the world
except right here."

"Dey're comin'," announced Rachel. "I hear de hosses."

Ruth leaned across the top bar of the gate, her figure enveloped in
her long coat, and her white tam a bright spot in the half-light.

On came the riders, three abreast.

"Dat's him in de middle," whispered Rachel, excitedly; "next to de
sheriff. I's s'prised dey didn't swing him up--I shorely is. He's
hangin' down his head lak he's mighty 'shamed."

Ruth bent forward to get a glimpse of the prisoner's face, and as she
did so he lifted his head.

It was Sandy Kilday, his clothes disheveled, his brows lowered, and
his lips compressed info a straight, determined line.

Ruth's startled gaze swept over the riders, then came back to him. She
did not know what was the matter; she only knew that he was in
trouble, and that she was siding with him against the rest. In the one
moment their eyes met she sent him her full assurance of compassion
and sympathy. It was the same message a little girl had sent years
ago over a ship's railing to a wretched stowaway on the deck below.

The men rode on, and she stood holding to the gate and looking after
them.

"Here comes Mr. Sid Gray," said Rachel. The approaching rider drew
rein when he saw Ruth and dismounted.

"Tell me what's happened!" she cried.

He hitched his horse and opened the gate. He, too, showed signs of a
hard night.

"May I come in a moment to the fire?" he asked.

She led the way to the dining-room and ordered coffee.

"Now tell me," she demanded breathlessly.

"It's a mixed-up business," said Gray, holding his numb hands to the
blaze. "We left here early in the night and worked on a wrong trail
till midnight. Then a train-man out at the Junction gave us a clue,
and we got a couple of bloodhounds and traced Wilson as far as
Ellersberg."

"Go on!" said Ruth, shuddering.

"You see, a rumor got out that the judge had die