to-morrow, and the thought of what might happen at home, with
nobody there but the helpless old grandmother and the little children,
made him forget his own troubles for the time.

"Take good keer o' the t'other chillen, Andy!" he shouted out to the
next oldest boy, thus making him a deputy-guardian of the family, "an'
pick Melissy up out'n the dust, an' be sure ye keeps granny's cheer
close enough ter the fire!"

Then he turned back again. He could still hear Melissa sobbing. He
wondered why the two men in the wagon looked persistently in the
opposite direction, and why they were both so silent.

The children stood in the road, watching the wagon as long as they could
see it, but Nick had slunk away into the woods. He could not bear the
sight of their grief. He walked on, hardly knowing where he went. He
felt as if he were trying to get rid of himself. He appreciated fully
now the consequences of what he had done. Barney, innocent Barney, would
be thrust into jail.

He began to see that the most terrible phase of moral cowardice is its
capacity to injure others, and he could not endure the thought of what
he had brought upon his friend. Soon he was saying to himself that
something was sure to happen to prevent them from putting Barney in
prison,--he shouldn't be surprised if it were to happen before the wagon
could reach the foot of the mountain.

In his despair, he had flung himself at length upon the rugged, stony
ground at the base of a great crag. When this comforting thought of
Barney's release came upon him, he took his hands from his face, and
looked about him. From certain ledges of the cliff above, the road which
led down the valley was visible at intervals for some distance. There he
could watch the progress of the wagon, and see for a time longer what
was happening to Barney.

There was a broad gulf between the wall of the mountain and the crag,
which, from its detached position and its shape, was known far and wide
as the "Old Man's Chimney."

It loomed up like a great stone column, a hundred feet above the wooded
slope where Nick stood, and its height could only be ascended by
dexterous climbing.

He went at it like a cat. Sometimes he helped himself up by sharp
projections of the rock, sometimes by slipping his feet and hands into
crevices, and sometimes he caught hold of a strong bush here and there,
and gave himself a lift. When he was about forty feet from the base, he
sat down on one of the