bout a quarter of a mile from you. Of course you know the place
well. I will be there at five o'clock to-morrow morning, before the
general world is astir. You can either meet me there yourself, or send
some trusty person who is sure not to know me. I need hardly say that
any attempt to surprise or lay violent hands on me on that occasion
would be fruitless, as I should be well on my guard; and, further,
should there be any foul play of any kind, you may depend upon my
removing _both_ my children from your cottage at the earliest
opportunity."

"I understand you," said Amos, "and will send my father's old butler to
take you the cheque at the hour and to the place you name. The old man
will ask no questions; he will be satisfied to do just what I tell him,
neither more nor less. You will easily recognise him, as he has snowy-
white hair, and he will be riding on this pony of mine."

"So far so good," said the other; "I have no doubt you will keep your
word. And now as to the boy. You will find him at the finger-post on
which his silk handkerchief was tied, at two o'clock this afternoon;
that is to say, if you come alone, and are there punctually." Then he
rose, and, stretching himself to his full height, saluted Amos with a
bow of exaggerated ceremoniousness, and, turning on his heel, was soon
hidden from view by the trees of the wood.

Sadly and slowly Amos made his way back to the market-town, his
thoughts, as he rode along, being far from pleasant companions. What
was to be the end of all this? Could he have done differently? No. He
was satisfied that duty plainly called him to the sacrifice which he had
made. He would have reproached himself bitterly had he lost the
opportunity of recovering his little nephew from such a father. He had
no doubt, then, taken one right step; the next he must leave to the same
heavenly guidance which never had misled nor could mislead him. So
having waited in the town till he had refreshed himself with a mid-day
meal, he made his way back along the roads he had travelled the day
before, and in due time arrived in sight of the finger-post, and of the
child who was sitting alone beneath it, his little head buried in his
lap, till, roused by the sound of the pony's feet, he looked up, and
with a joyful cry ran to meet his uncle. Another moment, and Amos had
sprung from his saddle and was clasping the sobbing, laughing child to
his heart.

"O dear, dear Uncle Amos!" cri