Before the girl could reply, the women returned, and in a few minutes she and Mrs. Hampton left the house. Jess was pleased at the interruption, for the conversation was becoming embarrassing. Nevertheless, she thought more of the captain for his friendly words of advice, and cherished them in the depth of her heart. She knew that they were true, and that to marry the man she loved would free her from all annoyance of Donaster.

There was great excitement the next day in the Tobin family when "The Daily Courier" arrived. It had a full account of the thrilling experience of rescuing the "Eb and Flo" at the brink of the falls. Mrs. Tobin read it aloud, while the captain and Flo listened with intense interest. At times the former interrupted with exclamations of surprise. He was more excited than his wife had ever seen him, and he could hardly restrain himself from leaping from the sofa and prancing around the room.

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he thundered, when his wife had finished, and laid aside the paper. "Why in time didn't Eben tie up at some wharf instead of goin' through the Narrows when the tide was runnin' down? That boy hasn't enough brains to last him over night."

"Don't talk that way, Sam'l," his wife chided. "No doubt the poor boy was doing the best he could. He must have used his brains when he saved the boat from going on the mud flats."

"Sure, sure, Martha. Yer quite right. But, say, what a narrow squeeze that was! In another minute Eben an' the boat would have been into the falls, an', then, Good Lord!"

"Doesn't the paper say there were two men with him?" Flo asked. "Who were they, do you suppose?" The girl's face was pale, and she was greatly agitated.

"Yes, yes, it does say thar were two men, who left in a motor-boat," the captain replied. "Now, who were they? D'ye s'pose they were on the boat when the storm struck, an' helped Eben hist the sail? They must have been thar, fer that boy could never have histed that sail alone. Read it all over agin, Martha."

The Tobin family had now a great subject for conversation, which kept them talking and speculating for the rest of the day. Mrs. Tobin carried the paper to her neighbours across the way, and discussed it with them. Jess said very little, although she was doing some serious thinking. Two men were with Eben, and they had evidently been with him during the storm. Fearful as she was of being followed, she naturally concluded that they were in search of her. Perhaps there was a suspicion abroad that she had taken refuge on the "Eb and Flo," and had not drowned herself. She said nothing, however, about her fears, but listened to Mrs. Tobin as she enlarged upon the danger through which her son had passed.

All through the afternoon the captain kept a close watch upon the river. He felt sure that Eben would bring the boat back that day. His foot was not giving him so much trouble, and he longed to be up and doing. But his wife and daughter would not allow him to leave the sofa, notwithstanding his vigorous protests.

"I must git around, Martha," he said after a special rebuke by his wife for his lack of patience. "Me foot needs to be moved, or it'll be stiff to the end of me days."

"Don't you worry about that, Sam'l. A sprain needs rest, and you're going to stay right where you are."

The captain sighed as he tried to possess his soul in patience. But the time dragged heavily, and the "Eb and Flo" was nowhere in sight.

Supper was almost ready when Flo, happening to glance out of the window, gave a cry of joy.

"The boat's coming now, daddy!" she announced. "I'm sure it's the 'Eb and Flo.'"

"Is thar a big patch in the sail?" her father asked.

"Yes, I can see it quite plainly."

"Then it's her, Flo. Thank the Lord Eben's come at last. He's a great boy, that. Guess he'll amount to something after all. Ye'd better cut an extry slice of that ham, fer Eben'll have an appetite like a bear when he gits home."



CHAPTER XX

MRS. GRIMSBY'S MISSION

Mrs. Hampton had not the slightest doubt but that Jess Randall was her own daughter. It seemed like a strange dream at first from which she would suddenly awaken. The girl was all that she had imagined her daughter would be when grown up. How she longed to take her in her arms and claim her as her own! But, no, she must not do that now. What would Jess and John think of her? Would they not despise her for what she had done? It was almost beyond belief that a mother would sell her child for money.

No sleep came to Mrs. Hampton's eyes during the rest of the night, and when Jess was comfortably in bed and asleep the restless woman paced up and down her own room, racked with conflicting emotions. What should she do? she asked herself over and over again. She knew now that the girl had run away from home, and should she send her back? But how could she? That she must keep her at all cost, was the thought uppermost in her mind. She was her own child, a part of her very self. The girl had been wonderfully brought to her, and was it not a sign that she should stay? But what about the girl's foster parents? Could they claim her still?

Twice during the quiet morning hours Mrs. Hampton had stolen gently into the girl's room and stood watching her as she slept. She could see her plainly by the shaded lamp on the dresser. A deep feeling of pride and love welled up in her heart as she looked upon the fair, pure face. She was certain she could detect the father's features in forehead, mouth and chin. He had been a handsome man, and this girl resembled him in a marked degree.

During the second visit as she was about to leave the room Jess suddenly opened her eyes. Seeing Mrs. Hampton, a smile illumined her face.

"I have had such a beautiful dream," she said. "I dreamed that you were my mother, and that you were rescuing me from people who were trying to steal me away from you. Wasn't it funny?"

Mrs. Hampton gave a slight start, and looked searchingly into the girl's eyes. Then she knelt by her side and gave her a fervent kiss.

"Would you like to have me for your mother?" she asked.

"Would I! Oh, how glorious it would be! I have known you only a few hours, and yet you seem more like my mother than anyone I have ever met. You are so kind and loving, just what I have often longed my own mother to be like."

"She has been good to you, though, has she not?"

"Oh, yes. In a way she has been very good, though there was something lacking which I cannot explain. I never saw her look at me as you are looking at me now. I could never confide in her, nor go to her with my little troubles. She did not wish to be bothered. She was just as affectionate to our cat and dog as she was to me. But you are altogether different. I wonder why it is? I believe you really love me, and for love my heart has been longing for years."

"Then stay right here with us, dear," Mrs. Hampton replied, at the same time pressing the girl's hand in hers. "I want you to be my daughter, and I shall love you to your heart's content." She was going to add that John would, too, but she refrained. Just what understanding there was between the two she was not sure, although she had the feeling that they loved each other dearly.

"But suppose daddy finds me here and takes me home?" Jess asked. "I feel that I should get farther away. I must not go back to my old life. I want to be free, to make my own living, and then——" She hesitated, and paused while her face crimsoned.

"I know, dear. You want to marry the one you love. Isn't that it?"

"It is, but how did you guess it?"

"Oh, I was young once, and understand such things," Mrs. Hampton smilingly told her. "But, there, we must not talk any more now. I am sorry that I disturbed you. Sleep as long as you like."

This was but one of many conversations the two had during the next day. While John was at work about the place, Mrs. Hampton and Jess talked with each other, either in the kitchen or out upon the verandah. Thus the two were drawn closer together, and understood each other better than before. Then in the evening, when the day's work was done, John joined them. He was happier than he had ever been in his life, and as he went about his various tasks he could hardly believe it possible that the one girl in the whole world who meant everything to him was but a short distance away, awaiting his return.

The more Mrs. Hampton thought about Jess, the more determined she became that nothing should take her from her. She was her daughter, and she had the right to her, no matter what she had done in the past. If it came to the worst she would claim her as her own, tell the whole sad story, and bear whatever blame might fall upon her.

She thought over this during the next day, and the more she was with the girl the more she loved her. The fact that John's love was added to hers gave her much comfort. Nothing would please her better than to see them married. Then she would have both a son and a daughter. But would the girl's foster parents allow her to marry a man who was merely an ordinary country farmer? It was hardly likely, judging by their ambition to give her to the son of a Lord.

She was thinking of this as she worked in the kitchen, busily preparing supper. John and Jess had gone for a walk down to the river, expecting to be back in a short time. It was a beautiful evening, and as Mrs. Hampton watched them as they moved down across the field her heart filled with pride. She liked to see them together, for they were so happy, and seemed to be perfectly suited to each other.

When supper was ready, she went out upon the verandah to await their return. It was good to rest after the work of the day, and look out upon the river. Everything was full of peace, and if she could only bring herself in harmony with the world of nature how good it would be. The music of the birds, and the hum of bees sounded in her ears. But her brain was too much concerned about other affairs to enjoy the bright things around her. She felt restless, and a feeling of some impending calamity oppressed her. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, for she had rested very little the last two nights.

The click of the little gate aroused her, and looking up she saw a little woman walking up the path toward the house. The visitor was shabbily dressed, and she hurried along as if fearful of being followed. She was panting heavily by the time she was upon the verandah, and seemed about ready to drop from weariness.

"Why, Hettie!" Mrs. Hampton exclaimed, as she rose to receive her. "What is the matter? You look tired out. Sit here, while I get you some refreshment."

"No, no, I mustn't sit down," the visitor replied, as she glanced apprehensively around. "Gabe might come at any minute. He's everywhere, it seems to me, and has eyes like a hawk."

"Yon just sit down and rest," Mrs. Hampton ordered, leading the frightened woman to a chair. "Your husband will not touch you here. If he does, it won't be well for him."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, so much. But you don't know Gabe as well as I do. He will kill me if he knows I've been here."

"Indeed he will do no such thing, Hettie. Sit here and calm your mind. I shall be back in a minute."

Mrs. Hampton hurried into the house, and in short time returned, carrying a small tray, containing a glass of home-made wine, and a plate of cake. This she placed on a small table near the agitated woman.

"Drink this, dear, and try some of my cake. They will refresh you."

Almost mechanically Mrs. Grimsby did as she was bidden, while Mrs. Hampton watched her curiously, wondering as to the cause of her excitement.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked, as the visitor replaced the glass upon the tray.

"Thank you, I do feel refreshed. But I must not stay long, though it is so comfortable here."

Thrusting her hand into the bosom of her dress, she brought forth a roll of bills, and laid it on Mrs. Hampton's lap.

"There, that's all I could find," she whispered. "He must have spent the rest."

"Why, what is this?" Mrs. Hampton asked in surprise as she picked up the money."

"It is yours; the money that Gabe took from you. Oh, he is a villain, if ever there was one. And to think that he should come to you, of all women, and demand payment for silence. It's a wonder to me the Almighty doesn't smite him for his wickedness."

Mrs. Hampton now understood why this poor creature had visited her, and a deep respect and pity welled up in her heart.

"How did you know about this matter?" she asked.

"Oh, Gabe was boasting about it to me. He had been drinking, and when he is that way you never know what he will say. I took the money from him when he was asleep. He didn't miss it when he left home. But when he comes back there will be a terrible time."

"Where is he now?"

"In the city, where he likes to be, instead of staying home and attending to his work. He's not only a villain, but lazy as sin."

An anxious expression appeared in Mrs. Hampton's eyes as she listened to this tale of woe. She leaned over and touched her visitor on the arm.

"You say that your husband talks a great deal when he is drunk?" she asked.

"Yes, his tongue is never still unless he's asleep. It's awful the way he raves and swears at times."

"Hettie, do you suppose he will tell what he knows about what we did at the hospital."

"No, I'm quite sure he won't say a word about that," was the slow and thoughtful reply. "Gabe's as cunning as a fox, even when he's drunk."

"He told you about it, though."

"Ah, that's different. He knows that I understand all about it. But he won't say a word to anyone else. If he does, he won't get any more money. He's cute enough for that."

"And you think he will come to me for more money?"

"I am sure of it. He'll never let up until he drains you of the last cent, that is, if you let him. And you're not the only one."

"No?" Mrs. Hampton was becoming very curious now. "Does he work his game upon others?"

"I should say he does. There's another woman from whom he has got money, more than he got from you, and that's Mrs. Randall."

"Oh! Is she the—the woman who got my baby?"

"The very one. And Gabe was to her before he came to you. That's the way he's been acting, the villain."

Mrs. Hampton was silent for a few seconds. Her heart was beating fast. Now she knew for certain that Jess Randall was her own child. The last vestige of doubt had at last been removed.

"Why didn't you tell me this before, Hettie?" she asked.

"Tell you what?"

"That you were the Hettie Rawlins who was at the hospital when I was there, and that it was Mrs. Randall who got my baby."

"Because you didn't ask me. You never mentioned that affair, so I thought you had forgotten, or didn't want to speak about it."

"No, Hettie, I had not forgotten it. But I did not know it was you who exchanged the babies. I saw you only a few times at the hospital, and when I again met you years later as Mrs. Grimsby I did not recognise you. Oh, what would I not give to undo that terrible deed I committed! I must have been crazy to sell my baby for money."

"And I a fool for what I did. But I must have been entirely out of my mind when I told Gabe anything. I kept the secret for years, and then in one unguarded moment I let a few words slip from my lips. Gabe threatened my life, and gave me no peace until I told him all. I could not help it. If you only knew what a life I lead you would understand. Can you ever forgive me?"

"There is really nothing to forgive, Hettie," was Mrs. Hampton's sad reply. "I am the one who needs forgiveness, not only from you but from the child I so heartlessly sold. Did you ever see her?"

"No, not to my knowledge. But I understand her life was not happy, and so the poor thing drowned herself to escape from her misery. You have heard the news, I suppose?"

"Yes. There has been a great deal about it in the papers. Her body has not been found, has it?"

Mrs. Hampton tried to speak as unconcernedly as possible, and if Mrs. Grimsby had not been so much taken up with her own troubles she might have wondered why any mother could speak so coolly about the death of her own daughter, even though she had not seen her since she was a baby.

"No, her body has not been found yet, though men are searching for it all the time, so I understand," the visitor explained.

"Do her parents, I mean the Randalls, feel very badly about her death, Hettie?"

"In a way I suppose they do. But I have heard that they are more angry than anything else. Their minds were so set upon the girl marrying that Lord's son that they are greatly disappointed. I admire her for what she did. I wish I had done the same myself before I married Gabe Grimsby. My life has been a living death ever since. But, there, I have talked too long. I must hurry away home. I hope Gabe will never know that I have been here. He must think that he lost that money."

"You are not going to walk home, Hettie," Mrs. Hampton told her. "John will be back shortly, and he will take you in his car. It is too long a walk."

"But I must. You don't understand. What if Gabe comes home and finds me gone?"

"Where is he now, did you say?"

"In the city, so I believe."

"Very well, then, most likely he will stay there a few hours. If he comes, it will be on the 'Oconee,' and John can get you home before that. So you must stay. Come, let me take off your hat."

After considerable persuasion, Mrs. Hampton induced her visitor to remain. Then she went into the kitchen and placed the supper upon the table. She could not understand what was keeping John and Jess so long. Anyway, she and Hettie would have their tea, and the young people could have theirs by themselves. She believed that Hettie might feel somewhat embarrassed in the presence of Jess, owing to her shabby appearance.

They had just finished their supper, and were about to rise from the table when John entered the room. At the first sight of him Mrs. Hampton gave a cry of fright and rose to her feet. His forehead was marked with blood, and the face of the girl following him was as white as death.



CHAPTER XXI

EBEN COMES ASHORE

As John and Jess made their way slowly down to the shore their hearts were free and happy. They were together, and that was all sufficient. Everything in nature was in harmony with their feelings. Birds chirped and flitted about them; butterflies zigzagged here and there, and bees hummed industriously among the flowers. The air was balmy, and a gentle breeze drifted in from the west. Jess stopped and looked out upon the river with kindling eyes.

"Oh, what a glorious day," she remarked. "It is so good to be in a place such as this."

"I am glad you like it," John replied, as he glanced at the bright face by his side. "I wish you could stay here always."

"So do I. The country suits me better than anywhere else."

"You would miss the city life, would you not, if you lived here all the year?"

"What would I miss in the city? A continual round of social events, of which I am more than tired, and going here and there in a vain effort to find happiness. I long to be free in the highest sense, and not to be chained to a system which to me is deadening."

"You certainly put your belief into practice when you ran away from home. I am glad you do not regret it."

"No, I have not the least regret. If I felt that my parents are mourning for me I would feel badly. But they treated me so cruelly in trying to force me to marry the man I hate, that I do not care how they feel."

"But suppose they find out where you are and compel you to go home?"

"They may find me, but they cannot make me go back. I have tasted the joy of freedom from their rule, and shall henceforth think and act for myself. You may consider me ungrateful, but if you knew what my life has been like you would not blame me."

They had reached the border of a grove of small trees, and here in an old fence wild flowers flourished in abundance and ran riot over the moss-covered poles. Jess stooped, picked a wild rose, and inhaled its sweet fragrance. John, watching, thought he had never beheld a more perfect picture of beauty, grace and maidenly charm. His soul thrilled within him, and moving impulsively forward, he took the rose from her hand, and placed it gently in her hair. He smiled as he stepped back to view the effect.

"Excuse me," he apologised, "but I could not help it. That is the place for the rose; it makes you look great."

Then he caught her by the hand and led her down the narrow path which led to the water. Nearby stood a large tree, with great outspreading branches, and under this they stopped, John's heart was beating fast, while the girl's face almost equalled the rose in colour. The world and its cares were forgotten as they stood there on that bright summer afternoon. They were living in a world of their own, for love had cast its mystic charm over their young lives.

"Why need you leave this place?" John suddenly asked. "Why not stay here always? I want you, and must have you? Would you not be happy here with me?"

He was still holding her hand, which he now pressed more firmly than ever. How he longed to take the girl in his arms, and imprint a kiss upon her rosy lips. He wanted to confess to her his great love, and to hear her tell of hers. But she did not at once reply. Her face, from which some of the colour had fled, was turned toward the river, and her hand trembled.

"Don't you know that I love you?" John impetuously insisted. "Can't you feel it in my every word and act? I love you as I never believed it possible to love any woman."

Then Jess looked into his eyes, and the expression the young man saw there filled his heart with joy.

"You do love me," he cried, "and you will be mine. Oh, tell me so!"

"Yes, John, I do love you," Jess slowly replied. "I love you more than words can tell. But we must wait a while. I am a runaway girl, you know, and I must not bring disgrace upon your family."

"Disgrace! I do not understand you. How could you bring disgrace upon mother and me?"

Jess smiled as she gently freed her hand, and plucked a leaf from the branch of a small tree. This she twirled in her fingers, and then tore it into bits, dropping each piece separately upon the ground.

"There is my answer," she said, in a voice that was low but full of emotion. "What I have done to that innocent leaf people will do to me when they find out what I have done. They will not spare me any more than I have spared that leaf. They will take my life and rend it asunder bit by bit. They will hear about my experiences on the 'Eb and Flo'; that a mishap befell me at the quarry; that I was taken away in the dead of night, and kept hidden by a young man so that my parents could not find me. I know what construction they will put upon all this, and no matter how much I might explain it will make no difference. I will be looked upon as a girl who has gone astray, and will be held in contempt by all. Oh, I know how it will be, for I remember how people talked about a girl who did something not half so daring as mine, and she was never forgiven. Her character was torn into shreds by cruel tongues."

"But what has all this to do with our love?" John asked. "I don't care what people say. In fact, I will face the whole world, and if I hear anyone breathe a word against you it won't be well for him."

"I know you would do what you could, John, but not likely you would ever have the chance. What could you do against the many conversations where my name and deed will be introduced. And in what a subtle manner judgment will be pronounced, 'Poor girl; isn't it too bad?' 'How hard on her parents!' That is the way most people will refer to me, though some will express their views in no uncertain language. I have heard it before, and know just what to expect."

"But, Jess, why need we care what they say?" John insisted. "We can be happy together. Our love will make up for everything else."

"Yes, I know that, John. But until this storm blows over, and I am condemned and forgotten it is better for us to remain just as we are. I must get away from here and do something."

"You're not going to leave, Jess. You must stay right here."

But the girl shook her head. Her face was very serious, and her eyes shone with the light of determination.

"I must go, John," she said. "Should my father find me here, he will make my life unbearable. He will try to force me to go back, and the only way to prevent that would be for me to do what people think I have already done." A tremour shook her body, and her eyes grew big with a nameless fear.

"Your father shall not take you back," John declared. "And you must not do what you suggest. That would be terrible! There is another way out of the difficulty, and you know what that is."

"Yes, I know, John. The captain spoke of it yesterday."

"He did! Good for him. He is a man of sense, all right. And won't you, Jess? We can get married, and then no one can take you from me."

Jess remained silent for a few minutes, with her face turned to the river, shimmering in the glow of eventide.

"We must wait, John," she at length replied. "We are both young yet, so there need be no hurry. Should we get married now, I know that my father would make every effort to separate us, even though I have the right to do as I please. He is a very determined man, and when he once makes up his mind it is almost impossible to stop him. When he finds out what I have done his anger will be great. But what would it be like should I marry you? No, we must wait. I shall go away and hide myself."

"You cannot do that, Jess. I am afraid you know very little about the world. Why, what could you do to make a living? You have been well educated, but what could you do to earn enough to live upon? You have always had plenty of money for all your needs; you have led a sheltered life, so you cannot understand the struggle it would mean to go out into the world to battle your own way. Now, is there one thing you could really do to earn a living?"

"I don't know, John," was the low reply. There were tears in the girl's eyes, for she realised that the words of advice were only too true, "I am afraid you are right. I did not look at it that way."

"I know you didn't, so that is why I have spoken so plainly. It would be cruel not to open your eyes and show you the difficulties ahead."

"What am I to do, then?" the girl asked, in a despairing voice. "We must not marry each other now. But what can I do? Where can I go?"

For a few minutes silence reigned, as the two stood there. John was thinking rapidly, and at last he turned to the girl with the light of a new idea shining in his eyes.

"I know what we can do," he told her. "We can hide you where your father cannot find you for some time. There is a place out in the hills where you can stay, and no one will have any idea where you are. Mother can go with you, and it will do her so much good, for she needs to get away for a change. We have a nice cabin there, which father built. It is on a little island, in a beautiful lake, and I know you will enjoy the life. You see, we have a coal mine on the shore of the lake, and that is why father built the cabin. He used to live there for weeks at a time. But since his death it has been occupied but little; although I sometimes spend several days there when out hunting."

The expression in the girl's eyes showed her interest in John's words, and when he stopped she lifted her face to his.

"But what about you?" she asked. "How will you get along without your mother?"

"Oh, I shall live there, too, part of the time," John laughingly explained. "You will not get clear of me as easily as all that. I shall have to attend to the farm, but having the car, I can run out and back in a short time. Perhaps you will see too much of me when you and mother set up housekeeping in the wilderness."

"I think it will be splendid!" Jess exclaimed. "I have often wanted to live just such a life as you describe. And having your mother with me, and you visiting us often, what more could one ask?"

"And just think of the delightful hours you and mother can spend upon the lake, or walking through the woods. And during the evenings and on wet days you will have books and magazines, for I shall keep you well supplied with reading matter. In fact, there are a good many books already in the cabin, for father was a great reader."

"When can we go, John?" Jess was all eager now for the adventure.

"We shall have to speak to mother first. I know that she will enter enthusiastically into our scheme."

"Then we had better go back to the house at once. We told her we would be away but a short time, and we have forgotten all about our promise."

"Mother won't mind," John replied. "She likes to see us happy, and she understands."

They stepped out from beneath the tree upon the narrow path, and as they did so a sound upon the river attracted their attention. Glancing in that direction, they saw a small row-boat coming toward them. There was one person on board, pulling at the oars with long, steady strokes.

"Why, it is Eben!" John exclaimed. "And there's the 'Eb and Flo' lying at anchor. It's a wonder we didn't hear some sound before."

"Suppose we wait here until Eben comes ashore," Jess suggested. "It will give him a great surprise. I have not seen him since the truck ran off the track at the quarry."

It took Eben but a few minutes to reach the land and pull up the boat. He then straightened himself up, and was about to move up the path when he caught sight of the two standing before him. In a twinkling the expression upon his face changed, and his eyes gloved with the light of jealousy and hatred.

"Come on up, Eben," Jess invited. "We're waiting for you."

With a bound the youth did as he was bidden, and in another minute he was standing before the two, with his fists doubled, and a defiant look upon his face.

"Why, Eben, what's the matter?" Jess asked, shrinking back in fear.

The boy, however, was not looking at her, but at John.

"I hate you!" he cried. "I will kill you!"

"What do you mean?" John sternly asked. "What have I done to you?"

"You stole her from me," and Eben motioned to the girl.

"Oh, I see," and John laughed. "Come, Jess, we had better go home. Eben is jealous, and I don't want to fight a duel here."

Like a flash the maddened youth stooped, seized a stick lying near, and hurled a savage blow at John's head. Quick as lightning the latter dodged, and although he managed to escape the full force of the blow, one end of the stick grazed his forehead, inflicting a long gash. It staggered him for an instant, but recovering, he leaped toward his assailant. With a gurgling cry of baffled defeat, Eben turned and fled down the path, along the shore, and disappeared amid the trees.

Blood was now flowing from the wound in John's forehead as he stood and stared in the direction Eben had gone. Then he turned to his companion.

"This explains something which has been puzzling me," he began. "I know now who threw the stone which hit you on the head. It was intended for me, but it struck you instead."

"Oh, do you think so?" the girl asked. "I am greatly surprised at Eben. I had no idea he would do such a thing."

"H'm, one need never be surprised at anything he does. He's always been a mystery to me, and to everybody else, I guess."

Drawing forth his handkerchief, he wiped the blood from his forehead. This action aroused Jess.

"Forgive me," she pleaded, "I should have been caring for you instead of standing here doing nothing. Come down to the river, and let me bathe your wound. Does it pain you much?"

"Just a scratch," John replied, as he walked along by her side. "It might have finished me, though. It was meant for a knock-out blow. I shall have to settle with that young fool. He must be taught a lesson."

"Oh, don't do anything to him," Jess begged. "He will get over his anger in time. Isn't it strange that he should be so jealous?"

"I don't blame him. If I were in his place I would feel just the same."

The girl understood his meaning, and for an instant a smile dispelled the serious expression upon her face.

"But you wouldn't try to kill a man, would you?" she asked. "You have more sense."

"It is hard to tell what I might do if anyone tried to take you from me."

John was kneeling close to the water now, and the girl was bathing his wound. How delightful it was to feel her gentle touch, and to know that she was so near! It was worth while being injured to have such attention from the one he loved.

For a few minutes Jess held the handkerchief to his forehead. But the blood still flowed, so they decided to go back to the house as quickly as possible, and, have it properly dressed.

"Mother is a fine hand at doing up wounds," John explained. "She is as good as any doctor or nurse."

They walked as fast as possible up the path, and when they at length left this to cross the field, Mrs. Tobin suddenly appeared at the front door of her house.

"Have you seen Eben?" she called.

John stopped short in his tracks, and for an instant he was tempted to tell this woman about her son's cowardly attack. He resisted the longing, however, and merely informed her that Eben was down on the shore, and no doubt would be home shortly.

"It is just as well for her not to know what that boy has done," he confided to Jess, as they continued on their way. "It wouldn't do any good, and the less said about it the better."

"And don't let us say anything about what happened at the quarry, John. I feel certain now that Eben threw the stone which hit me."

"There is no doubt about it," was the emphatic reply. "I won't say a word now, but that young rascal must be taught a lesson. He needs to be severely punished for what he has done."



CHAPTER XXII

ON THE REBEL TRAIL

"A stick struck me, mother. But it's nothing serious; merely a scratch."

Such was John's brief explanation as he entered the dining-room. Mrs. Hampton asked no questions, but seeing how pale Jess looked, she felt certain that something out of the ordinary had happened. It did not take her long to dress the wound, after which the young couple sat down to their supper.

"You will take Mrs. Grimsby home, will you not, John?" Mrs. Hampton asked.

"Certainly," was the reply. "You don't mind waiting a while, do you?" he asked, turning toward the visitor. "I have some chores to do, and then we will all go for a spin. You will come along too, mother, won't you?"

"Not this evening, John. I have some work to do. You and Jess go."

"I don't want you to go to any trouble for me," Mrs. Grimsby remarked. "But I feel that I must get on my way as soon as possible. Gabe may be home at any minute, and he will be very angry if I am not there when he comes."

"Don't you worry about Gabe," John assured her. "I shall settle with him if he makes a fuss when I am there,"

"Oh, but he will wait until you get away, and then he'll begin. He's a terrible man when he's angry, and he is angry most of the time when he's home. Be careful about marrying, Miss," and she turned to Jess. "If you make a mistake and get the wrong man, you might as well put an end to your life at once. It will be better than slow torture through the years. I don't blame that poor girl who drowned herself rather than marry the man she didn't love. You have heard about it, I suppose. And they haven't found her body yet."

Jess tried not to show any sign of agitation at these words, but her hands trembled slightly. John noted this, so, pushing back his chair, he rose from the table.

"You must not judge all men by your husband, Mrs. Grimsby. Gabe is in a class by himself, and I am sorry for you. Just make yourself as comfortable as you can here, and I shall hurry up with my work and get you home as soon as possible."

In about an hour John was ready, and Mrs. Hampton stood at the gate watching the car as it sped down the road. She was really glad to be alone, for the events of the afternoon had been of a disturbing nature. She thought of Hettie and her trials. How astonished the poor woman would have been had she known the truth about Jess! She went back again in memory to that night at the hospital almost twenty years ago. Hettie was a buxom girl then, full of life and animation, not much like the thin dragged-out creature of to-day. Twenty years! And the two babies, innocent pawns in the unscrupulous bargain, had again drifted together as ardent lovers. What would they think if they knew the truth? In what light would they consider the woman who had taken part in the transaction? Her mind was in a tumult. She felt that it would be fatal to tell them. And yet she did want to claim the girl as her very own, that she might know a real mother's love.

Going back into the house, she took from a drawer the roll of bills Mrs. Grimsby had given her. She held it in her hand for a few minutes. It was a part of the money she had paid for silence, and now it had come back. Hettie's honesty and nobleness of soul touched her deeply. With the crying needs of a large family how many a woman would have kept and used the money? What a temptation! Mechanically she counted the bills—seventy-five dollars. Gabe Grimsby must have been very drunk when he overlooked such a sum. How great would be his anger when he found that the money was not in the house upon his return from the city.

Replacing the roll in the drawer, Mrs. Hampton attended to some household duties. Then she went out upon the verandah to await the young people's return. She was glad to lean back in the chair and rest, for she was tired. The sun had gone down beyond the distant hills, and the long twilight was slowly waning. It was a beautiful evening, and the gentle breeze of the afternoon had sunk to rest with the sun. The smooth surface of the river caught and reflected the glory of departing day, while the trees along the shore stood clearly silhouetted against the silent river. There was peace upon water and land, broken only by the sweet song of a vesper sparrow, and the tingling of a bell from a distant pasture.

But to the woman sitting alone upon the verandah there was no peace. Her heart and mind were in a tumult of conflicting emotion. She was thinking of the girl who had come so unexpectedly into her life and home. The silence and restraint of long years had at last reached their climax. A mother's passionate love possessed her soul, and an intense affection for the child of her womb swept like an overmastering current through her very being. The girl was hers, she must keep her, and she was determined that no power on earth should take her from her.

She was suddenly aroused from her reverie by the sound of an auto upon the road. It drew up and stopped right in front of the gate. A man at once alighted and walked rapidly toward the house. Mrs. Hampton rose and met him just as he stepped upon the verandah. The visitor was a middle-aged man, of overbearing manner. He had not the courtesy to remove his hat in the presence of the woman, nor to take the big cigar he was smoking from his mouth. In an instant the thought flashed into Mrs. Hampton's mind that this was the man who had come to take away her daughter. She had been dreading his appearance, and now he was before her.

"I am Henry Randall," the man announced, "and I am looking for my daughter. Is she here?"

"Your daughter!" Mrs. Hampton replied. "Why are you searching for her here? Did she not drown herself?"

A heartless laugh broke from the man's lips, as he took the cigar from his mouth, and flicked off the ashes. He looked piercingly at the woman as if expecting to see her quail. But Mrs. Hampton's eyes never flinched for an instant. She was angry at the man's manner of approach, and when a quiet woman is aroused there is need for caution.

"Why don't you answer my question?" the man asked. "I want to know if my daughter is here? She didn't drown herself, though she deserves to be drowned for the way she has acted."

"No, your daughter is not here," Mrs. Hampton quietly replied.

"Not here!" Randall plainly showed his surprise. "Why, I was told that she came to your house."

"Then you were wrongly informed. Your daughter has never been inside my house."

"And you have not seen her?"

"No, I have never met her. You will have to search elsewhere."

"That is strange, madame, very strange. Didn't your son bring a girl here who was injured at the stone quarry?"

"That is quite true, sir. My daughter received a slight injury at the quarry, and it was she my son brought home."

The man frowned and bit savagely at his cigar.

"Confound it all!" he growled. "What am I to do?"

"Why not go to the quarry," Mrs. Hampton suggested. "You may learn something there."

"That is the only thing I can do, I suppose," and the man sighed. "But, by the way, where is your son now? And your daughter, too, for that matter?"

"They went down the road but a short time ago. Didn't you meet them? They were in a car."

"We met several cars, but I didn't see anything of your son. I know him quite well, for let me tell you, madame, he and my daughter are very fond of each other. I believe that he is the cause of all this trouble."

"I am surprised to hear you say such a thing, sir. Are you sure that my son lured your daughter away from home?"

"I am certain of it, and what is more, I intend to push this matter to the extreme limit of the law. I must see your son. When do you expect him back?"

"Sometime this evening. But when John and Betty go off in the car it is hard to tell when they will return. You will have time to go to the quarry. Most likely they will be home when you get back."

Mrs. Hampton tried to conceal her agitation as she waited to learn how the man would treat her suggestion. It was her only hope, and she watched him closely. She felt like a drowning person grasping at a straw. If she could get this man away, and if John and Jess would soon return, something yet might be accomplished.

"Well, I suppose I might as well go on to the quarry," Randall growled as he pulled out his watch. "I expected that my journey would end here, and by this time I would have that foolish girl safe under my care. I do not know what is coming over young people these days."

In another minute he was gone, and when the car had disappeared in a whirl of dust, Mrs. Hampton sank down upon the top step of the verandah and buried her face in her hands. She was trembling violently, and felt very weak. The ordeal through which she had just passed had unnerved her. What was she to do? she asked herself. How was she to save her child? She lifted her head and listened intently, hoping to hear the purr of John's car. But no sound greeted her attentive ears, listen as she might.

Presently she aroused herself and rose quickly to her feet. An idea had come into her mind which stirred her to activity. Going at once into the house, she set busily to work both upstairs and down, and in less than a half hour she had several rolls of blankets and quilts lying on the hall floor, and two baskets filled with dishes and provisions. She was standing wondering what else she needed, when she heard John's quick step upon the verandah.

"Mother," he began, catching sight of her. Then he paused in amazement when he saw the bundles and baskets lying upon the floor. "What in the world are you going to do with these?" he asked. "Is anything the matter?"

In as few words as possible Mrs. Hampton explained the situation, and the urgency of speedy flight. "We must go to the lake, John, and hide Jess there. You don't want Mr. Randall to take her away, do you?"

"Indeed I don't," was the emphatic reply. "Oh, mother, it is good of you to do all this, and help us to keep Jess. We can go at once before Randall comes back."

Picking up the two bundles, he hurried out of the house, and was back again in a few minutes for the baskets.

"You lock up, mother," he said. "I will turn the car. We can explain everything to Jess on the way."

As they sped down the road, Mrs. Hampton explained the reason for their hurried flight. The girl was greatly pleased, and delighted at the idea of hiding in the wilderness.

"It is so good of you to help me in my trouble," she replied. "My father is a determined man, if he once gets his hands on me I shall be helpless. But suppose he finds out where I am?"

"It is hardly likely. But if he does you can leave everything to me."

For some distance they followed the main highway, and at length turned off upon a road leading back into the hills. This was little used, so John had to exercise the greatest care in handling the car. It was hard enough in day-time, but at night it was extremely difficult. He had to drive very slowly, and at times branches of trees scraped the sides of the car.

"This was once called 'The Rebel Trail,'" he explained to Jess after they had climbed a steeper hill than any they had yet encountered.

"What a funny name!" the girl replied. "How did it get such a name as that?"

"It was used very often by the Loyalists in the early days as they travelled overland to the river from a settlement beyond the hills. The Loyalists, you know, were called rebels by the people in the country from which they fled. When those who had settled back in the hills visited the ones along the river, they were often jokingly greeted by the words 'Oh, you rebels!' and in that way the path through the woods got its name. Of course, that was long ago, and few people know about it now. An old man once told me about it, and it always stuck in my mind."

"I guess the name is very suitable," and Jess sighed. "Another rebel is travelling over it now, for I am sure that is what my parents and others think I am."

"A rebel in a worthy cause, dear," Mrs. Hampton comforted. "It matters very little what people call you when you feel that you have done right."

"And wouldn't you do the same if you were in my place?" Jess asked. "Wouldn't you rebel against marrying a man you despised and hated?"

"I certainly should. I would do almost anything rather than marry the man I disliked."

Further conversation was interrupted by the sudden stopping of the car. John opened the door and stepped out.

"We are here at last," he explained. "This is where we take the boat. I shall leave the car here."

It took them but a few minutes to carry their luggage to the lake and place it on board a small flat-bottomed boat lying upon the shore. With the women seated astern, John took the oars, and soon they were out upon the water.

"This is a wonderful adventure," Jess remarked after they had gone a short distance. "How still and mysterious everything is! I was never in such a place before."

"I hope you will not get homesick here," Mrs. Hampton replied, at the same time taking the girl's right hand in hers.

"Not with you near me, Mrs. Hampton. What lovely times we shall have!"

"I hope so, dear," and the elder woman sighed. "But here we are at the island. You see, it is not far across."

The house on Island Lake was built mostly of logs, and was a cosy abode. It was comfortably furnished, and a rough fireplace was situated at one end of the living room. Jess was overjoyed as she looked around after the lamp had been lighted.

"What a delightful place!" she exclaimed. "I never expected to find such a house as this so far in the wilderness."

"My dear husband and I used to spend very happy days here," Mrs. Hampton told her. "I used to keep house while he worked at the mine. We made very little money, but we were happy, and after all, that is worth more than gold. When he died, I did not have the heart to disturb anything, but left the house just as it was. John has looked after it, and if he had his way he would spend most of his time here."

"And so should I," the girl enthusiastically replied. "I know I shall be happy here. Oh, I am so glad we have come."

John was happy, too, and as he looked upon the bright, animated face before him, he longed to live there in the woods the rest of his life, if only he might have the one who was so dear to him always by his side.



CHAPTER XXIII

STRAIGHT TALK

"I'm sartinly proud of ye, Eben. I didn't think it was in ye."

This was Captain Tobin's comment as he listened for the second time to his son's story of the night on the river, and the rescue from the falls. Supper had been over for some time, but the family lingered at the table, and for once the dishes remained unwashed. Eben was at last a hero in his own home, and his eyes sparkled as he noted how proud the members of his family were of his achievements. This was an unusual experience for him, and his heart glowed with pride. He did not mind telling them what he had done, and how the two men had helped him to hoist the sail.

"Who were they?" his mother asked.

"Oh, just two chaps who happened along in a motor-boat. Guess they were mighty glad to find shelter from the storm."

Eben glanced at his father as he spoke, wondering if he suspected anything. But the captain gave no sign, so the boy was quite relieved.

"And did the people on the wharf cheer when the tug brought you back from the falls?" Flo eagerly asked.

"I guess so, though I can't remember much about it now. It all seems like a dream."

At that instant a loud rap sounded outside. Flo sprang at once to her feet, and when she had opened the door, a man stepped across the threshold.

"Does Captain Tobin live here?" he asked.

"Yes, and he's right in there," Flo replied, motioning to the dining-room which opened off the little hall.

The captain turned to view the visitor, and then attempted to rise. He sank back, however, with a groan, for he had given his foot a slight twist.

"So you are Captain Tobin, eh?" the stranger accosted.

"Yes, all that's left of him," was the reply.

"And you are the owner of the woodboat, the 'Eb and Flo'?"

The visitor's abrupt manner irritated the captain. He knew the man to be Henry Randall, for he had seen him on several occasions. He never liked the man from what he had heard of him, and his repugnance was now steadily increasing.

"You ask me if I own the 'Eb an' Flo,' eh?"

"That's what I said."

"Well, first of all, Mister, I want to know what bizness is it of yours if I do? D'ye want to buy her?"

"I should say not," was the impatient retort. "My name is Henry Randall, and I want to know if my daughter was on board your boat the night she was supposed to have drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"

"No, I didn't see yer daughter," the captain replied. "I never sot eyes on her."

Randall's eyes opened wide in amazement at this unexpected answer. The word "liar" was on his lips, but with an effort he checked himself.

"I am surprised to hear you say that you never saw my daughter," and he looked sternly at the captain. "I have almost certain proof that she boarded your boat off Benton's wharf, and was concealed in the cabin while men were dragging the river for her body. Can you deny that?"

Exclamations from both Flo and her mother caused Randall to turn quickly around. Mrs. Tobin had risen to her feet, and her eyes were blazing with indignation. She was about to speak when her husband lifted his hand.

"Keep calm, Martha. Keep calm," he advised. "Let me handle this gent." Then he turned to Randall, "So ye say yer daughter ran away from home, eh?"

"She did, and that's why I'm here."

"What did she run away fer?"

"Because she was wilful, and wanted her own way; that's why."

"H'm," the captain grunted, "so that's how ye look at it?"

"And why shouldn't I? But what has all this to do with the finding of my daughter? I didn't come here to be catechised in this way."

"Well, I didn't tell ye to come, Mister. If ye don't like yer reception, ye kin leave whenever ye want to. No one'll interfere with yer goin', an' the door's right thar."

Henry Randall was unused to such plain speech, and it angered him. So accustomed had he been to having his own way and lording it over others that this was an unusual experience and hard for him to endure. His face darkened and he looked sternly at the captain.

"I am not in the habit of allowing people to speak to me in such a manner," he declared. "I can make you pay dearly for your impudence. Do you know who I am?"

"Sartinly I know, an' that's why I'm talkin' jist as I am. I don't very often git roused up, but when I do it takes more'n you to stop me. An' I am roused at the way ye've treated that gal ye call yer daughter. Ye've been buyin' an sellin' so long that yer heart is nuthin' more'n a bank account. An' ye weren't satisfied with tradin' in lumber, but ye even want to sell yer only daughter. Thar, now, don't git riled. Jist keep cool fer a few minutes 'til I'm through. If yer tired standin', ye kin set down. Flo, give this feller a chair."

"I don't want a chair," Randall angrily retorted. "I want to get through with my business here. I ask you once more if my daughter sought refuge on board your boat the night she was supposed to have drowned herself off Benton's wharf?"

"Didn't I tell ye that I never sot eyes on her?"

"You lie, Captain Tobin. I have definite proof that a girl was aboard your boat when you reached the stone quarry, and that she was later injured on the head by a stone, and brought by a young man, John Hampton by name, to his home. Can you deny that?"

The excitement of Mrs. Tobin and Flo was now intense. They stared in speechless amazement, first at Randall and then at the captain.

"Why don't ye go an' git her, then, if she's with John Hampton?" the captain asked. "What are ye doin' here if yer so sartin about the matter?"

"I'm here because there's nobody home there. I visited Mrs. Hampton on my way up the road, and she told me that my daughter had never been at her house. She said a girl had been injured at the quarry, but it was her own daughter. She suggested that I go to the quarry and make inquiries, which I did. I learned enough there to satisfy me that Mrs. Hampton lied to me, and that the girl who came up the river with you and who was afterwards hurt is my daughter. And then when I come back, I find the Hampton house closed, and no one at home. That's the situation, and it's enough to drive a man crazy."

"It sartinly is most puzzlin'," the captain agreed. "Strange, Martha, isn't it?" and he turned to his wife. "But, then, perhaps they've all gone fer a car ride. It's a fine night fer a spin."

"But Mrs. Hampton told me that her son would most likely be home when I came back from the quarry," Randall explained. "It seems to me that I am being deceived and checked on all sides. I wonder what is the reason?"

"The reason, sir, is very clear," Mrs. Tobin replied. "The sympathy of all is with your daughter because of the way you have treated her. I admire her for what she did."

"Madame, madame, I am astonished at you," Randall declared.

"You needn't be astonished at all, sir. I have listened to this conversation, and see things in a new light. I could not understand my husband's actions a few days ago, but now it is nearly all explained. Sam'l," and she turned to her husband, "did you have this man's daughter on board the 'Eb and Flo' the day you sailed by here without stopping?"

"No, Martha, I did not," was the emphatic reply.

Mrs. Tobin looked at the captain for a few seconds in silence. Then she detected a peculiar expression in his eyes, and at once surmised its meaning.

"But, Sam'l, did you have a girl on board?"

"Yes, Martha, I did."

"Then you have been lying."

"No, I haven't. This man asked me if I had his daughter on board, an' I told him I didn't. That gal might have been his daughter once, but she isn't now. Any man who would treat a gal the way this man treated that beautiful creature who tumbled into the cabin of the 'Eb and Flo' has no right to call her his daughter, so thar."

"What fool-talk is this?" Randall impatiently asked. "I know now that it was my daughter you had on board your boat. What you think about my actions doesn't worry me in the least. Your quibbling is childish and unbecoming to a man of your age. You will change your tune, though, let me tell you that, when you are called upon to face the charge of being involved in my daughter's wild escapade."

"Go ahead, Mister, go ahead. Whenever ye want me, jist sing out."

"Oh, I shall sing out, all right. You needn't think I'm bluffing. When I undertake a thing I carry it through."

"An' I s'pose ye'll carry through the persecution of that gal ye call yer daughter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ye'll force her to marry that Lord's son, the feller with the wobbly knees an' brainless head?"

"Yes, I am determined that she shall marry Lord Donaster's son. My mind is made up to that, and nothing can change it."

"But ye haven't got yer daughter yit."

"Oh, that's merely a matter of time. She may escape me for a while, but I shall get her sooner or later."

"But s'pose somebody else gits her first?"

"You mean young Hampton?" Randall somewhat anxiously asked.

"I sartinly do. He's hot on her trail, an' it looks to me as if they're mighty fond of each other. Mebbe they're off now to be hitched up. Ye kin never tell what notions young people'll take."

"Then I'll tear them apart," Randall angrily declared. "My daughter shall never remain the wife of an ignorant country clown. But I don't believe she would go that far. No doubt she is hiding somewhere. Have you any idea where that might be?"

"I don't believe she's on board the 'Eb an' Flo' this time. Ye'll have to hunt elsewhere."

"And I shall. I've lost too much time already, and I should be in the city by now. I have an important business engagement there. Confound it all!"

Without another word he turned and strode out of the house, slamming the front door after him. There was silence in the room for a brief space, broken at last by the captain's chuckle of amusement.

"Ho, ho," he laughed, "that feller got a dose to-night, didn't he? What d'ye say, Martha? Got a big hand-out fer me now?"

"No, Sam'l," was the quiet reply. "I really can't scold you this time. You did what was right in saving that poor girl from such a brutal father. But why didn't you tell me about it?"

The captain shuffled uneasily, although his eyes twinkled.

"I was really afraid to, Martha," he confessed. "But I was wrong. I'll never do sich a thing agin. The next gal who flops herself aboard the 'Eb an' Flo,' I'll bring straight home fer you to look after."

"For pity's sake, Sam'l, I hope you'll never get into such a scrape again. And you are not out of this one yet, from all appearance. Mr. Randall is a hard man to deal with, and I feel sure that he intends to go to law about this affair."

"He kin go to law, or to, or to——" The captain longed to say just where, but he checked himself in time. "If Randall wants a fight, jist let him come along. If he gits me into court I'll tell him a few things I didn't mention to-night."

"But it may take our place, Sam'l," Mrs. Tobin reminded. "Mr. Randall is a rich man and money will do almost anything these days."

"I don't care a hang, Martha, how much money he's got. I've got right on my side, an' I guess that's never forsaken a man yit, not under the Union Jack, at any rate. To save a gal from a brute of a father is worth a great deal to my way of thinkin'. Hey, Eben, don't ye agree with me? You had a hand in this."

The captain turned as he spoke, but his son was not in the room.

"Where in time is that boy?" the captain asked in surprise. "He was here a few minutes ago."

"He followed Mr. Randall out," Flo explained, "and he hasn't come back yet."

"I s'pose he wants to see that the skunk got away without stealin' any chickens. It's jist as well to be on guard when a feller like that's around. Jist hand me my pipe, will ye, Flo? I want a smoke to settle me nerves. They've been upset a bit to-night."



CHAPTER XXIV

EBEN ATTENDS TO GRIMSBY

During the conversation Eben bad been a silent listener. But his mind was very busy, and he was doing some serious thinking. Randall appealed to him. He knew that he was a prominent business man, and he liked the brusque way he talked. When, however, he learned that the Hamptons had carried off Jess, his heart filled with anger and jealousy. He truly surmised where they had gone, for he knew how fond John was of the cabin in the wilderness, and it would be the most likely place where he would take the girl for safe keeping. He thought of his encounter with the two down on the shore, and his eyes glowed with a fierce light. He was no match for John in an open fight, he was well aware, so he must use other means.

As he listened to Randall, and watched his every movement, the idea flashed into his mind that this was the man to deal with John Hampton. He longed to see the two together, and, unobserved, watch the encounter. What fun it would be, and how great the satisfaction to witness the defeat of his rival! That they would fight if they met, he had not the slightest doubt, for to his mode of thinking that was the only way to settle such a dispute.

When Randall at length left the house, Eben slipped quietly and quickly out after him. He was by the side of the car just as the owner was taking his seat and giving orders to the chauffeur. Randall saw the dim figure loom up by his side, and demanded who he was and what he wanted.

"It's only me," Eben explained.

"And who's me?" was the curt query.

"Eben, the captain's son."

"Well, what do you want?"

"I want a drive down the road. Will ye take me?"

"No, I can't. I'm in a hurry. Get away from the car. I don't want to be bothered with anyone."

He spoke to the chauffeur, and at once the engine began to hum. But Eben was not to be thus defeated. He jumped upon the running board, and thrust his head into the car, almost into Randall's face.

"Ye'll take me if I tell ye where yer daughter is, won't ye?" he roared.

"Do you know?" Randall shouted.

"Y'bet I do."

"All right, then, get in," and Randall pushed open the door.

In a twinkling Eben was by his side, the door was slammed to, and the car was purring on its way.

"Well, where is my daughter?" Randall asked.

"I believe she's on Island Lake. D'ye know where that is?"

"No, I don't. Where in the devil is it?"

"Back in the hills. The Hamptons have a cabin there on an island. Their coal mine is on the shore on the other side."

"Oh, I know. I've fished in that lake, though I haven't been there for several years. What makes you think my daughter's there, boy?"

"Guess it's about the only place John 'ud take her. He's mighty fond of that cabin, an' would live there all the time if he could. Most likely Mrs. Hampton's gone along, too."

Randall made no reply, but sat lost in thought. Eben enjoyed the drive. It was no nice to roll smoothly along in the big, luxurious car. He nestled back in the easy seat, and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the moment. Some day he would have a car of his own just like this, with a chauffeur to look after it.

"You must be happy, Mister," he at length remarked.

"Happy!" Randall roused from his reverie with a start, and straightened himself up with a jerk. "What makes you think I'm happy?"

"'Cause you've plenty of money, an' own a car like this."

Randall laughed outright, although there was no mirth in his laughter.

"And so you think money makes a man happy, eh?'"

"It should. Why, ye kin buy what ye like."

"Look here, boy," and Randall's voice became more gentle than Eben had ever heard it. "Money won't buy happiness. It will provide one with many things, I acknowledge. But it won't buy the great things of life, and that is where it fails a man in his time of need. Do you think I am happy?"

"No, I guess yer not, sir, from what I've seen of ye."

"You're right, boy, you're right. I'm not happy, and I have money. But, there, why am I talking this way to you?"

"Mebbe, I know," Eben replied. "Yer thinkin' of yer daughter, an' what she's done. Isn't that it?"

"It is. How can a man be happy when his only daughter has run away from home?"

"An' why did she run away, sir?"

"Why? Why?" Randall paused, and stared straight before him.

There was no more time to continue the conversation, for they were now almost at Grimsby's house whither Eben was bound. He asked the driver to pull up and let him out. The car soon stopped in front of the place, and Eben opened the door and stepped out.

"Thank ye, sir, fer the drive," he said.

"Oh, that's all right," Randall replied. "And you feel quite sure that my daughter is on Island Lake?"

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Where else would John take her?"

"It is reasonable and worth looking into, anyway. And say, there's a boat out there, isn't there?"

"Yes, John has a good one."

"But suppose it's on the island if I should want it?"

"Oh, jist holler, an' if he doesn't know who ye are, he'll row over fer you. But most likely John will come back in the mornin', so he'll have to bring the boat over. Ye see, he'll have to go home to look after the stock. If ye happen to be around the lake when he's home, most likely ye'll be able to git the boat."

"A good idea," Randall replied. He then spoke to the chauffeur, and in another instant the car was away.

Eben stood for a few minutes staring through the darkness down the road.

"I wonder if he'll go to Island Lake?" he mused. "If he does, Gabe needn't go, an' so he won't want me. I'd rather be hidin' around in the bushes to see the fun. I'd like to see John an' Randall in a stand-up fight, I surely would. But mebbe it'd be better fer John to go back to the island an' not find his sweetheart. Say, it 'ud be great to watch him ramp an' tear around."

A cry of pain and fright from the house nearby startled him. Wheeling sharply around, he saw that the front door was open and the form of a woman was falling down the rickety steps. Surprised beyond measure, Eben hurried forward until he reached the prostrate woman. She was moaning and sobbing bitterly, and making no effort to rise.

"What's the matter?" Eben asked, bending over her. "Are ye hurt?"

"Yes, yes," the woman wailed. "He hit me, and kicked me out of the house."

"Who did?" Eben straightened himself up, while his hands clenched hard. "Who hit ye?"

"Gabe, of course. But don't go in; he might kill you. He's in a terrible rage."

With a bound Eben was through the door and into the house. The room was a sight to behold. Chairs and tables were upset, broken dishes were lying on the floor, and several frightened, half-dressed children were huddled in one corner. In the middle of the room stood the master of the house, his moon-like face red with anger. He retreated a few steps as Eben appeared.

"Did you do that?" the latter demanded, shaking his right fist menacingly before Grimsby.

"Yes I did," was the surly reply. "And it's none of your d—— business what I do in my own house. Get out of this."

Eben's only reply was to seize Gabe by his coat collar, and yank him suddenly forward. Then he shook him as a dog would shake a rat, while Grimsby filled the house with his howls of distress. He was a veritable coward at heart, and in Eben's hands he was as helpless as a child.

"Ye'll kill me, ye'll kill me!" he wailed. "Fer God's sake, let up."

"I want to kill ye," his captor roared. "Yer not worth livin'. Take that, an' that, an' that."

Eben had lost complete control of himself now. The fury of his passion was let loose, and he shook and thumped his victim unmercifully. Grimsby's fear increased to terror, and he made frantic efforts to free himself. He even fought and bit, but all in vain. Eben held him firm, and at last pinning him with his body upon the floor he began to deal blow after blow upon the victim's face and head.

There is hardly the shadow of a doubt but that Eben would have killed Gabe there and then, so intense was his rage. But at this critical moment Mrs. Grimsby caught him by the arm and attempted to pull him away from her husband.

"Don't kill him, don't kill him," she pleaded. "Be careful what you are doing."

This appeal brought Eben somewhat to his senses, and his hands relaxed. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then rose slowly to his feet.

"He ought to be killed," he growled. "He's a brute."

"I know, I know," the woman agreed. "But you mustn't do it. It would be murder, and you would be hung."

A grim smile overspread Eben's face, as he stepped back, and folded his arms.

"Well, then, s'pose you kill him," he suggested. "He tried to kill you, so it's better fer you to do it first."

"No, no," the woman protested. "There must be no killing here. Get up, Gabe," she ordered, touching her husband with her foot. "You must be thoroughly ashamed of yourself by this time. Maybe this will knock some sense into your head."

Very reluctantly the defeated man drew himself up to his knees, and then staggered to his feet. His face was swollen where Eben's fists had fallen, and his eyes were wild with fear. He edged away from his antagonist, and kept as close as possible to his wife.

"Don't let him touch me again," he begged. "He's not a human being, but the devil in the form of a man. I never saw anything like him."

"Don't be such a coward," his wife chided. "If you behave yourself he won't hurt you."

"Indeed I won't," Eben agreed. "But look here, Gabe Grimsby, if ye ever lay hands on yer wife agin, an' I hear of it, I'll come an' tear ye to pieces. D'ye call yerself a man to hit a woman, an' her yer wife?"

"But she provoked me," Gabe defended.

"What did she do?"

"She stole my money; that's what she did."

"You're a liar," his wife charged. "It wasn't your money, anyway. I merely took it back to where it belongs."

"Ye did?" Gabe snarled. "So that's where ye were, eh? Why didn't ye tell me that before?"

"I didn't have to, Gabe Grimsby. If you'd acted like a man when you came home, I might have told you. But, no, when you got here and found that I was away, instead of staying with the children you went off to the store. Then when you did come home and found that supper was not ready because I just got back, you began to act like a demon. If it hadn't been for Eben here, I don't know what would have happened to me."

"An' he hit ye fer that?" Eben asked in surprise.

"Yes, for that, and because of the money."

"What money?"

"Hush-money; that's what it was. He dragged it out of Mrs. Hampton, that's what he did, the villain. She paid him to keep silent."

The light of understanding dawned in Eben's eyes, and he even smiled.

"It had to do with the girl, eh?" he queried. "Mrs. Hampton paid Gabe to say nuthin' about her, I s'pose. She wants to keep her hidden from her dad. I came here in his car, and I tell ye he's mighty mad."

"Has he found her?" Grimsby asked, forgetting in his interest his battered face.

"Naw, he hasn't found her. But he will, though, if you don't git a hustle on. He knows where she is."

"He does! Where?"

"Oh, it's no use tellin' you. What can you do? You'll be in bed to-morrow nursin' yer face."

"No, I won't. Just tell me where that girl is, an' I'll send word to the city this very night."

"Why should I tell ye, Gabe? Ye don't deserve to be told after what ye did to yer wife."

"I swear I'll never do such a thing again, Eben. I lost my head, an' didn't realise what I was doing.

"H'm, I guess ye nearly lost yer head when I got hold of ye. If it hadn't been fer yer wife here I'd had yer head off by this time. But come along outside, an' we'll talk this matter over. Them kids ought to be in bed," and he motioned to the weary children over in the corner. "Good-bye, Mrs. Grimsby; jist send me word if Gabe hits ye agin. I'll fix him fer sure next time. Come along, Gabe, I want to have a talk with ye."



CHAPTER XXV

THE FOREST FIRE

John Hampton was somewhat late in leaving the island the next morning. There had been many things to do, and he found the life so pleasant that he preferred to stay all day. But it was necessary for him to get back home to look after the stock, and attend to many other duties around the place.

"Do you think you can manage all right, John?" Mrs. Hampton anxiously asked as she and Jess accompanied him to the boat. "I feel that I should go home too."

"Oh, I shall have no trouble, mother," John assured, her. "But I don't like to leave you two here alone. I shall be back, though, as early as I can this evening."

"We shall have a great time together, shan't we?" and Jess turned to Mrs. Hampton as she spoke. "I am looking forward so much to this day in such a beautiful spot as this."

"So you won't miss me at all, I suppose?" John queried as he looked lovingly upon the girl's bright, animated face.

"Indeed we shall," Jess smilingly told him. "But you would not want us to mope around all day, simply because you are not with us, would you? We shall look forward to your return this evening."

"And don't forget the milk," Mrs. Hampton reminded. "We forgot to bring any last night. It was stupid of me. And don't tell anyone where we are. Keep clear of Mrs. Tobin, if you possibly can."

"That's easier said than done," John laughed, as he pushed off the boat and sprang lightly on board. "However, I shall do the best I can."

In a few minutes he was skimming over the water, while he kept his eyes fixed upon the girl standing upon the shore, waving her hand to him until he had landed and disappeared from view. How happy he was that morning, and his heart was very light as he boarded his car and started for the river. He felt sure now of the girl's love, and he begrudged every minute he was away from her. He would hurry through his work and get back to the island as speedily as possible.

He had just reached the gate of his home when he heard someone calling. Looking around, he saw Mrs. Tobin running toward him and waving her arms for him to stop. He smothered an exclamation of annoyance, as he pulled up his car.

"Have you seen anything of Eben?" the woman asked. "He left home last night, and hasn't been back since."

"No, I haven't seen anything of him," John replied. "But don't worry, Eben is well able to look after himself."

"I suppose he is, but we are all anxious about him. I thought maybe you'd seen him. You just came up the road, didn't you? Down to the city, I suppose?"

"No," John curtly replied, as he started the car and drove on, leaving Mrs. Tobin standing gazing after him.

"She didn't get anything out of me this time," John muttered. "She'll be more curious now than ever to know where mother and Jess are."

For a couple of hours John worked hard around the place. He then went into the house for a lunch, which he ate in the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were back in the hills, to the little cabin in the woods. He pictured to himself the whole scene, and he longed to be there.

At times during the morning he had paused at his work and looked toward the lake. Although he could not see the girl of his heart's desire, it gave him some comfort to turn in her direction and gaze upon the hills which surrounded her. He did this again when he came out of the house after his hasty meal. But no sooner had he looked, than he uttered an exclamation of dismay. The woods in the distance were on fire! Great clouds of smoke were rolling across the land, and at times blotting the hills entirely from view. The fire was off to the right, and perhaps a mile or more away. But he well knew that between it and Island Lake was a large stretch of blueberry plains. When the fire reached this, it would travel rapidly, devouring everything in its way. Then it would sweep through a thicket of fir and spruce trees on the shore of the lake, and the flames would be sure to leap to the island, which here was but a short distance across. And Jess and his mother were there! They could not escape, for they had no boat. And if they did, where could they go for safety? The fire would reach them no matter where they went, for from all appearance it was making a wide sweep in its onward rush.

"Confound Sam Lemon for starting that fire!" he growled. "I feel sure he did it, for he told me the other day that he was going to burn that fallow of his. I warned him to be careful, but he only laughed. I wish I had hold of him now, the scamp!"

John, however, knew that such lamentations would be of no use. Something must be done and at once if the women on the island were to be rescued. Just what he could do he was not sure. Anyway, if he were with them something might be done. He could not leave them there without an effort to save them. He was greatly excited now, so hurrying to his car, he sprang on board and started down the road. He drove faster than usual, and in a short time reached the Rebel Trail, by which he had come that very morning. Under ordinary circumstances he would have driven slowly and carefully over the rough way, for there were gullies formed by the rain, and rocks around which it was necessary to steer most cautiously. But John was so anxious and excited that he threw caution to the wind and sent forward the car at a break-neck speed. For a time all went well until he reached a small bridge, formed of poles, which had become very rotten. The inevitable happened, for no sooner had the car touched the bridge than the right wheel crashed through, and in an instant the car was tightly jammed, the sudden impact hurling John against the wind-shield, which broke beneath his weight.

Recovering himself as quickly as possible, he examined the car, and found the wheel so firmly wedged among a mass of rotten sticks, earth, and rocks that it could not be removed without assistance. And, anyway, he did not have time, for every minute was precious with the fire sweeping steadily onward. The only thing now left was to walk the rest of the way. By the road this would mean over two miles, but across country, through the woods, and along the edge of the blueberry plains it was about one mile shorter. He knew this route well, as he had travelled it often before he bought the car. He did not relish the idea of the walk on such a hot day, especially as he would be forced to hurry as fast as possible if he would win out against the fire.

Leaving the road, he plunged into a growth of young fir trees, made his way through these, and at length reached a valley where the trees were larger, and the underbrush was not so thick. This would lead him to the level beyond where he could obtain a view of the fire, and learn the real nature of the danger. The heat here was intense, for not a breath of wind fanned his hot forehead. But steadily and rapidly he sped forward, and to his great relief reached, at length, the edge of the woods. Here he stopped and viewed the situation. Below him on his right was a stretch of country, covered with blueberry bushes, small fir, pine and spruce trees. It was a desolate region, and the hot sun had parched the shallow soil which covered the rocks beneath. In places these rocks protruded above the ground, and presented either flat surfaces or large cairn-like heaps.

The instant John emerged from the forest he looked anxiously away to the right, and the sight he beheld filled him with fear and awe. The forest was a seething mass of flames, and great volumes of smoke were rolling up into the air. The roar of the fire, and the crashing of trees could be heard for some distance, growing louder each minute. The monster was speedily approaching, laying waste all before it. In another half hour or so it would be through the heavy timber and out upon the plains where everything would be quickly blasted beneath its fiery breath. Even now the wind, caused by the fire, was sending forth flaming branches, and wherever these fell they began to burn most fiercely.

John realized that the sooner he was out of this place the better, for at any minute he might become encircled by a roaring furnace. He was most thankful that the fire had not reached the lake, so he would be in time to assist the ones on the island in case of need. The only danger would be from flying embers, but if there, he might be able to stamp out any flame before it had time to do much damage.

As he hurried along the edge of the plains the roar of the fire became almost deafening, while the incessant crashing of trees added to the horror. Never before had he experienced such a forest fire, although he had heard old men tell with almost bated breath of the wild fires they had witnessed, and of the destruction which had ensued.

He had gone about half way to the lake, when, happening to glance to his right, be saw something slowly moving among the bushes some distance away. As he looked, he noticed that it was a man, who seemed to be limping painfully among the bushes. At times he stopped, glanced back, and then staggered forward. Who could it be? he wondered, and what was he doing over there? That the man needed assistance was certain, for at the rate he was travelling he would surely be overtaken by the fire ere he could reach the lake. John was greatly puzzled. What should he do? He must reach the island in time to save the women, and yet it was not right to leave the apparently helpless man on the plains to die.

As he stood there uncertain what to do, the creeping figure among the bushes suddenly stumbled, and with a wild cry of despair fell headlong upon the ground. No longer did John hesitate. He sprang forward, plunged through the bushes, leaped over jagged rocks, and in a few minutes was by the side of the prostrate man.

"Hello! What's wrong?" he asked. "Can I do anything for you?"

Hearing the sound of a human voice, the fallen man moved, lifted his head, and looked around. As be did so, John gave a great start and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. It was Henry Randall!



CHAPTER XXVI

IN THE RING OF DEATH

At first Randall did not recognise the young man who had so suddenly appeared before him. He stared as if he beheld a vision, and his lips moved, although he uttered no sound. His face was drawn and haggard, his eyes wild and blood-shot. He was a far different man from the bustling and imperious lumber merchant of the morning.

"What's wrong?" John asked. "Can I help you?"

"What's wrong?" the man repeated. "Everything's wrong. My daughter's gone to the devil, my foot's sprained, and the fire is almost upon me."

"Well, let me help you, then," John replied. "Come, get up, and lean on me. We must get to the lake at once."

Randall made a feeble effort to obey, but sank back upon the ground with a cry.

"I can't walk a step," he groaned. "Leave me here and save yourself. There's no time to lose. O Lord, this is awful!"

"No, I won't leave you here," John declared. "Try to bear the pain for a while. It will be better than to be burned alive. Hurry up. We must get to the lake to save your daughter. She's on the island, and the fire will be there in a short time."