ace and he felt the chill of
it as it permeated his clothes, but that was well--it was his only
friend and ally now.

Like some ghostly bride he stumbled up through the lurid night, dragging
the unwieldly train behind him. Apparently no one saw this strange
apparition as it disappeared amid the enveloping flames.

"Tom--whar's Tom?" called Jeb Rushmore again.

Up the hill he went, tearing his dripping armor when it caught, and
pausing at last to lift the soaking train and wind that about him also.

The crackling flames gathering about him like a pack of hungry wolves
hissed as they lapped against his wet shroud, and drew back, baffled,
only to assail him again. The trail was narrow and the flames close on
either side.

Once, twice, the drying fabric was aflame, but he wrapped it under
wetter folds. His face was burning hot; he strove with might and main
against the dreadful faintness caused by the heat, and the smoke all but
suffocated him.

On and up he pressed, stooping and sometimes almost creeping, for it was
easier near the ground. Now he held the drying canvas with his teeth
and beat with his hands to extinguish the persistent flames. His power
of resistance was all but gone and as he realized it his heart sank
within him. At last, stooping like some sneaking thing, he reached the
sparser growth near the cut.

Two boys who had been driven to the verge of the precipice and lingered
there in dread of the alternative they must take, saw a strange sight. A
dull gray mass, with two ghostly hands reaching out and slapping at it,
and a wild-eyed face completely framed by its charred and blackening
shroud, emerged from amid the fire and smoke and came straight toward
them.

"What is it?" whispered the younger boy, drawing closer to Garry in
momentary fright at the sight of this spectral thing.

"Don't jump--it's me--Tom Slade! Here, take this rope, quick. I guess it
isn't burned any. I meant to wet it, too," he gasped. "Is that tree
solid? I can't seem to see. All right, quick! I can't do it. Make a loop
and put it under his arms and let him down."

There was not a minute to spare, and no time for explanations or
questions. Garry lowered the boy into the cut.

"Now you'll have to let me down, I'm afraid," said Tom. "My hands are
funny and I can't--I can't go hand over hand."

"That's easy," said Garry.

But it was not so easy as it had been to lower the smaller boy. He had
to encircle the tree twice with