dry; surely, he had time
to drink from the brook. He knelt down, but before he could get a drop
he heard a sound below, and hurried on. Alarmed, he sprang forward like
a hare; he climbed like a cat, he drew himself up by his hands; he had
but one thought--to reach the house in time. His coat was torn now in
more places than one; a sharp edge of rock had cut his ankle so that his
stocking was spotted with red above the low walking-shoe. The
determination to save Eliot drove him on like a whip of flame: he did
not know how much Royce knew, but feared everything. His face had a
singular appearance: it was deeply flushed, the teeth were set, the
wrinkles more visible than ever, and yet there was a look of the boy in
the eyes which had not been there for years. He was in a burning heat,
and breathed with a regular, panting sound; he could hear the
circulation of his own blood, and began to see everything crimson. The
trail now turned straight up the mountain, and he went at it fiercely;
he was conscious of his condition, and knew that he might fall in a fit
at the house-door: never mind, if he could only get there! His eyes
were glassy now, his lips dry. He reached the house, opened the door,
and fell into a chair. Brother Bethuel, in alarm, sprang up and brought
him a dipper full of water as quickly as hand could fill the tin.
Brother Bethuel believed in water, and this time Wainwright agreed with
him; he swallowed every drop.

"Where is he?" he said then, already on his feet again, though
staggering a little. Brother Bethuel pointed downward, and Wainwright,
with a signal toward the glen, as if of near danger, disappeared. The
cellar was dimly lighted by two little windows a foot square, and the
man who entered made out two figures: one was Eliot, the other Honor.

"You!" said Wainwright.

"Did you not know that I would come?" said the girl.

He had not known it, or thought of it. He turned his eyes toward the
other figure; everything still looked red. He held out a pocket-book.

"Go!" he said; "Royce is on your track!"

He spoke in a whisper; his voice had left him as he gained breath.
Eliot, a dark-skinned, handsome, but cutthroat-looking fellow, seized
the money and sprang toward the door. But Honor sprang too, and held him
back; she had heard something. The next moment they all heard
something--Royce coming in above.

When the youth entered, Brother Bethuel was quietly reading his Bible;
the table on which it