lcome to ----!'

"Here he is, Wullie!"

'--or to victorie!"

The brave little voice died away. The quest; was over; the lost sheep
found. And the last James Moore saw of them was the same small, gallant
form, half carrying, half dragging the rescued boy out of the Valley of
the Shadow and away.

David was none the worse for his adventure, for on reaching home M'Adam
produced a familiar bottle.

"Here's something to warm yer inside, and"--making a feint at the strap
on the walls--' "here's something to do the same by yer ----. But,
Wullie, oot again!"

And out they went--unreckoned heroes.

* * * * *

It was but a week later, in the very heart of the bitter time, that
there came a day when, from gray dawn to grayer eve, neither James Moore
nor Owd Bob stirred out into the wintry white. And the Master's face was
hard and set as it always was in time of trouble.

Outside, the wind screamed down the Dale; while the snow fell
relentlessly; softly fingering the windows, blocking the doors, and
piling deep against the walls. Inside the house there was a strange
quiet; no sound save for hushed voices, and upstairs the shuffling of
muffled feet.

Below, all day long, Owd Bob patrolled the passage like some silent,
gray spectre.

Once there came a low knocking at the door; and David, his face and hair
and cap smothered in the all-pervading white, came in with an eddy of
snow. He patted Owd Bob, and moved on tiptoe into the kitchen. To him
came Maggie softly, shoes in hand, with white, frightened face. The two
whispered anxiously awhile like brother and sister as they were; then
the boy crept quietly away; only a little pool of water on the floor and
wet, treacherous foot-dabs toward the door testifying to the visitor.

Toward evening the wind died down, but the mourning flakes still fell.

With the darkening of night Owd Bob retreated to the porch and lay down
on his blanket. The light from the lamp at the head of the stairs shone
through the crack of open door on his dark head and the eyes that never
slept.

The hours passed, and the gray knight still kept his vigil. Alone in the
darkness--alone, it almost seemed, in the house--he watched. His head
lay motionless along his paws, but the steady gray eyes never flinched
or drooped.

Time tramped on on leaden foot, and still he waited; and ever the pain
of hovering anxiety was stamped deeper in the gray eyes.

At length it g