ez falling off into darkness. Percival's gaze
followed hers, and his heart smote him,--for it was he who had demanded
that the gruesome reminder be left standing as a warning to carrion. And
he had laughed when Peter Snipe christened it "the scarecrow!"

"Leave it standing, A. A.," Peter had said, "and you can bet your boots
no jailbird will ever roost on it if he thinks twice. And it's just that
sort of thing that makes a man think twice."

But the look of dread in the eyes of this girl who could do no wrong,
and yet was to be everlastingly tortured by the sight of the thing that
stood as a silent accuser of all who looked, was more than Percival
could stand. Easter Sunday,--and that gibbet pointing its long arm
toward the little flock in the shadow of sanctuary,--mocking the good as
it beckoned to the bad,--Easter Sunday and that!

He stole quietly away, circling the edge of the crowd, his head bent,
his teeth set. Just as he was about to pass from view around the corner
of the "tabernacle," he cast a quick glance at the girl on the platform.
Their eyes met again. She turned her head quickly, but he was certain
that she had followed his movements from the beginning.

CHAPTER X.

Toward the close of the exercises, the congregation was startled by
the sound of an ax smiting wood. The blows were rapid and vigorous.
The surprised people looked at each other first in wonder and then in
consternation. Who was guilty of this unseemly sacrilege?

Finally those on the edge of the multitude discovered the wielder of the
ax. Some one, not easily recognizable, was chopping away the supports of
the scaffold. The crowd grew restless; angry mutterings were to be heard
on all sides. Every eye was turned from the platform to glare at the
lone chopper across the fallow field.

Madame Careni-Amori, who was about to begin her second song, looked
helplessly at Ruth Clinton.

Ruth had recognized the man at once. At first she was annoyed, then
there surged over her a great, uplifting thrill of exaltation. She
stepped quickly to the front and, raising her clear young voice,
reclaimed the wandering attention of the throng.

"Please be quiet. Madame Careni-Amori is to sing for us once more. Mr.
Percival is knocking down that horrible thing over there. It is right
that he should. We do not need it there as a warning. Mr. Percival has
had a change of heart. He has been moved,--tremendously moved,--by
what he has seen in you