es to me; but I must be true to myself. If I told you I would
take this step I should not be honest. No! Not to-night! Sometime,
perhaps. I haven't much faith in life, but I swear I don't believe, bad
man as I am, that anybody can ever go clear to the bottom, without being
rescued by a love like that! I'll never forget it, Davy; never! It will
save me sometime; but you must not talk any more, you are tired out. Go
to bed, friend, brother, the only one I ever really had and loved. You
will need your sleep. Leave me alone, and I will sit the night out and
chew the bitter cud."

It was not until daybreak that David ceased his supplications and lay
down to snatch a moment's rest. When he awoke, he sprang up suddenly and
saw Mantel still sitting before the open window where he left him,
smoking his cigar and pondering the great problem.

"I have had a wonderful dream," he said.

"What was it?" asked Mantel.

"I dreamt that I was swimming alone in a vast ocean,--weary, exhausted,
desperate and sinking,--but just as I was going down a hand was thrust
out of the sky, and although I could not reach it, so long as I kept my
eyes on it I swam with perfect ease; while, just the moment I took them
off, my old fatigue came back and I began to sink. When I saw this, I
never looked away for even a second, and the sea seemed to bear me up
with giant arms. I swam and swam as easily as men float, day after day
and year after year, until I reached the harbor."

"Whose hand was it?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Well, swim on and look up, Davy, and God bless you."

They parted at dawn, one to break through the meshes and escape, and the
other--!

In Australia, when drought drives the rabbits southward, the ranchmen,
terrified at their approach, have only to erect a woven wire fence on
the north side of their farms to be perfectly safe, for the poor things
lie down against it and die in droves--too stupid to go round, climb
over, or dig under! It is a comfort to see one of them now and then who
has determined to find the green fields on the southward side--no matter
what it costs!

Weak and bad as he had been, David at least took the first path which he
saw leading up to the light.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE END OF EXILE

"Every one goes astray, and the least imprudent is he who
repents soonest." --Voltaire.

The steamer on which Corson embarked after his overland journey from New
York City to Pittsburg, ha