he furnace flames far and high
through the forest. The vivid flash came and went like lightning, but it
lasted long enough for the boy to recognize one of the black shapes.

"Father!" he cried. "Father Orin!"

"Bless my soul--it's young David!" exclaimed the priest.

There was as much relief in his tone as in the boy's, and he turned
hastily to the horseman at his side.

"Doctor, this is a young friend of mine--a member of Judge Knox's
family. You have heard of the judge. And, David, this is Doctor Colbert.
You, no doubt, have heard of him."

David murmured something. He had never before been introduced to any
one; and had never before been so acutely conscious that he had no
surname. The doctor sent his horse forward, coming close to the pony's
side. He held out his hand--as David felt rather than saw--and he took
the boy's hand in a warm, kind clasp. It was the first time that a man
had given David his hand as one frank, earnest, fearless man gives it to
another--but never to a woman, and rarely to a boy. David did not know
what it was that he felt as their hands met in the darkness, but he knew
that the touch was like balm to his bruised pride, which had been aching
so sorely throughout the lonely ride. Father Orin now rode nearer on
the other side, and although no more than the dimmest outline of any
object could be seen, the boy saw that the priest continued to turn his
head and cast backward glances into the dark forest. When he spoke, it
was in a low tone, strangely guarded and serious for him, who was always
as outspoken and light-hearted as though his hard life of toil and
self-sacrifice had been the most thoughtless and happiest play.

"But how does it happen that you are here, my son?" he asked, almost in
a whisper. "I can't understand the judge's allowing it. Can it be
possible that he has sent you--on business? Why--! A man isn't safe on
this part of the Wilderness Road at night, and hardly at midday, alone.
For a child like you--"

There it was again, like a blow on a bruise! The boy instantly sat
higher in the saddle, trying to look as tall as he could, and forgetting
that no one could see. And replying hastily in his deepest, most manly
voice, he said scornfully, that there was nothing to be afraid of with
his rifle across the saddle-bow, declaring proudly that he knew how to
deal with wild beasts, should any cross his path. As for the Indians, he
scoffed at the idea; there were none in that count