fully placed it in Father Orin's
arms.

"But you can't carry both of the others," said the priest, in sudden
perplexity. "And we can't leave one here alone while we take the others
and return. Maybe it would be better to take one at a time. I can either
stay or go."

"Oh, no, indeed! I can take these two easy enough--one on each arm. They
weigh nothing--poor little atoms--and I don't need a hand for the reins.
My horse often goes in a run with them thrown over the pommel. He went
on a bee-line with them so last night."

With both arms thus filled with the helpless morsels of humanity, he had
no trouble in seating himself in the saddle. He laughed a little,
thinking what a spectacle they must make; and Father Orin laughed too,
with the shamefacedness that the best men feel when they do such
gentle things. And then the strange, pathetic journey through the
wilderness began.

[Illustration: Father Orin and Toby.]

"Steady, Toby. That's right, old man," said the priest, now and then.

The doctor kept a close, anxious watch over the child in Father Orin's
arms, and frequently glanced down at the two little faces lying in the
hollow of his own arms. Any one of the three,--or all of them--might
cease to breathe at any moment. It seemed to both the anxious men that
they were a long time in going to the Sisters' house, although the
distance was but a few miles. When the log refuge first came in sight
through the trees, they breathed a deep sigh of relief in the same
breath. The Sisters, who had been warned, saw them coming, and ran to
meet them, and took the babies from their arms. When the little ones had
been borne in the house and put to bed, the doctor sat down beside them
to see what more might be done. But the priest, without rest or delay,
set out on another errand of mercy. Toby, needing no word or hint, at
once quickened his pace, knowing full well the difference between this
business and that which was just finished, so far as they were
responsible.

"You're right, old man. Keep us up to the mark, right up to the mark,"
chuckled Father Orin. "I'm mighty tired, and I'm afraid I might shirk if
you would let me."

As he bent down with a bantering chuckle to pat the horse's inflexible
neck, a man's voice suddenly hailed them from the darkening woods lying
at their back.

"Hello! Hello! Hold on!" the unseen man shouted.

They turned quickly and stood still, looking in the direction from which
the shouting came