eet.

"Follow me!" he shouted.

And, singing and chanting, the throng poured out upon the black highway,
waving their torches. Zora knew his intention. With a half-dozen of
younger onlookers she unhitched teams and rode across the land, calling
at the cabins. Before sunrise, tools were in the swamp, axes and saws
and hammers. The noise of prayer and singing filled the Sabbath dawn.
The news of the great revival spread, and men and women came pouring in.
Then of a sudden the uproar stopped, and the ringing of axes and grating
of saws and tugging of mules was heard. The forest trembled as by some
mighty magic, swaying and falling with crash on crash. Huge bonfires
blazed and crackled, until at last a wide black scar appeared in the
thick south side of the swamp, which widened and widened to full twenty
acres.

The sun rose higher and higher till it blazed at high noon. The workers
dropped their tools. The aroma of coffee and roasting meat rose in the
dim cool shade. With ravenous appetites the dark, half-famished throng
fell upon the food, and then in utter weariness stretched themselves and
slept: lying along the earth like huge bronze earth-spirits, sitting
against trees, curled in dense bushes.

And Zora sat above them on a high rich-scented pile of logs. Her senses
slept save her sleepless eyes. Amid a silence she saw in the little
grove that still stood, the cabin of Elspeth tremble, sigh, and
disappear, and with it flew some spirit of evil.

Then she looked down to the new edge of the swamp, by the old lagoon,
and saw Bles Alwyn standing there. It seemed very natural; and closing
her eyes, she fell asleep.

_Thirty-four_

THE RETURN OF ALWYN

Bles Alwyn stared at Mrs. Harry Cresswell in surprise. He had not seen
her since that moment at the ball, and he was startled at the change.
Her abundant hair was gone; her face was pale and drawn, and there were
little wrinkles below her sunken eyes. In those eyes lurked the tired
look of the bewildered and the disappointed. It was in the lofty
waiting-room of the Washington station where Alwyn had come to meet a
friend. Mrs. Cresswell turned and recognized him with genuine pleasure.
He seemed somehow a part of the few things in the world--little and
unimportant perhaps--that counted and stood firm, and she shook his hand
cordially, not minding the staring of the people about. He took her bag
and carried it towards the gate, which made the observers breathe