nt belonging to another for a little
more, and yet the maddening thirst was not quenched.

It was growing late. He made a circuit of his old haunts, but it was
useless--no money, no drink. For his pleading he was mocked. For his
curses he was struck and put out. He staggered toward home, the stinging
fire within him quickening his pace. One hope remained. Perhaps Miss
Thorn had been there after he had gone. Perhaps, hidden away in the
little box, he might find a few pennies--enough for this time.

The houses that he passed were for the most part dark, except where some
low place cast its straggling light into the night. He hurried on,
stumbling now and then. No time could be more suitable for him. He would
find the family, what there was left of it, asleep. He would sneak in
like a cat and find the box--perhaps the pennies. He rubbed his hot
hands nervously together in anticipation.

It was not difficult to get into the house, and he found it still and
dark. Cautiously he tiptoed to the window and ran his fingers over the
casing above it. Nothing but dust. Next he tried the hole in the
chimney. Here his unsteady fingers grasped something he thought to be
the box, but it proved to be only a loose brick. Growing impatient, he
went to the cupboard and fumbled in the corner. No box. He was getting
reckless now. Taking a match from his pocket he drew it across the wall.
It sputtered and cast a ray long enough for him to find the lamp, which
he lit.

The little boy Johnnie, in a bed close by, stirred slightly, rolled over
a couple of times, and sat up in bed and opened his eyes. Mr. Crowley,
having lost all control of himself, was noisily peering into every nook
and cranny. As the father moved nearer, the boy crept closer to his
mother, and, huddling by her side, began to cry. It was when he heard
the boy's cry that the fire within him licked up the last of his manhood
and the Devil had full sway. He set the lamp down with a bang and sprang
toward the bed. The boy threw his arms around his mother and gave a cry
of terror.

"Mamma! O mamma! Hold me tight! Don't let him get me! O mamma! mamma!
mamma!" The mother held the child close, but the man had seized him.

They struggled for a minute--a madman's strength and a devil's cunning
against a mother's love--unequal struggle!

The man--a demon now--had the child.

He cast his eye around the room and picked up a knotty piece of wood.
The boy pulled frantically back toward