r trace of the lost boy had been discovered. On the second
evening, when we gathered at the Cambridge House, Dr. Hemingway urged us
to take a little rest, and asked that we come later to a prayer meeting
in the church.

"O'mie is our one sacrifice beside the dear little babe of Judson's. All
the rest of us have been spared to life, and our homes have been
protected. We must look to the Lord for comfort now, and thank Him for
His goodness to us."

Then the Rev. Mr. Dodd spoke sneeringly:

"You've made a big ado for two days about a little coward who cut and
run at the first sound of danger. Disguised himself like a girl to do
it. He will come sneaking in fast enough when he finds the danger is
over. A lot of us around town are too wise to be deceived. The Lord did
save us," how piously he spoke, "but we should not disgrace ourselves."

He got no further. I had been leaning limply against the veranda post,
for even my strength was giving way, more under the mental strain than
the physical tax. But at the preacher's words all the blood of my
fighting ancestry took fire. There was a Baronet with Cromwell's
Ironsides, the regiment that was never defeated in battle. There was a
Baronet color-bearer at Bunker Hill and later at Saratoga, and it was a
Baronet who waited till the last boat crossed the Delaware when
Washington led his forces to safety. There were Baronets with Perry on
Lake Erie, and at that moment my father was fighting for the life of a
nation. I cleared the space between us at a bound, and catching the
Reverend Dodd by throat and thigh, I lifted him clear of the railing and
flung him sprawling on the blue-grass.

"If you ever say another word against O'mie I'll break your neck," I
cried, as he landed.

Father Le Claire was beside him at once.

"He's killed me," groaned Dodd.

"Then he ought to bury his dead," Dr. Hemingway said coldly, which was
the only time the good old man was ever known to speak unkindly to any
one among us.

The fallen preacher gathered himself together and slipped away.

Dollie Gentry had a royal supper for everybody that night. Jean Pahusca
sat by Father Le Claire with us at the long table in the dining-room.
Again my conscience, which upbraided me for doubting him, and my
instinct, which warned me to beware of him, had their battle within me.

"I just had to do something or I'd have jumped into the Neosho myself,"
Dollie explained in apology for the abundant meal, as if coo