ed her, and she looked
into the glowing embers.

It was not hard to guess where her thoughts were; they were with that
only child who had gone forth in the woods to help the German lad look
for the missing horse. Mrs. Carleton smiled as she reflected upon a
certain absurdity which marked the whole business, for, look at it as
she chose, there was something grotesque in the project of two youths
setting out to hunt for a horse that had been wandering for days in a
limitless wood. But the smile quickly gave way to the serious expression
which not often left the face of the mother since that awful night when
her husband was stricken down by the fierce red men of Kentucky.

"I trust God will not forget my boy," were the almost inaudible words
that came to her lips. "He has wonderfully preserved him through many
perils, and my heart misgives me now that I allowed him to go from under
my roof."

Just then the latch-string was spitefully pulled, the door was pushed
inward, and Jacob Relstaub entered. The angry man was short of stature,
clumsily dressed, and the only weapon he carried was a heavy, knotted
cane, if that may be termed such, which was his companion when moving
about the sparse settlement. It has already been said that he was
parsimonious, cross-grained, and cruel-hearted, and he had been in
specially ill-temper since the return of his boy without the horse upon
which so much value was set.

The door swung to of itself, and the German, stopping short in the
middle of the room, banged his cane upon the floor, and, looking
savagely at the quiet lady who had nodded and bidden him good evening,
demanded:

"Vere is mine poy, Otto?"

"Don't you know?" asked the widow in return, with a tone of surprise.

"No, I does not; he says he goes off mit your poy, but dey both
lies--don't it?"

"My boy never tells a falsehood," was the quiet response of Mrs.
Carleton, whose pale cheek slightly flushed. "Your Otto told the truth
as you well know. Not only that, but he only obeyed you when he went out
in the woods to run into all kinds of danger in search of an animal
which I do not believe can possibly be found."

"All poys ish bad," said the visitor with an impatient sniff, as he took
off his cap and slouched to a chair on the opposite side of the fire.
"Your poy ish badder dan any oder poy; mine Otto is lazy, and if he
doesn't pring pack dot horse I vill pounds him till he don't live."

"He may _never_ come back," sai