CHAPTER I. "Tony"?For Short. Another winter had lifted its !cy f fingers from the .Storm Country and Lake Cayuga, and an early spring had brought from the South the red-breast- ^ ed robins and thousands of other birds , to build their homes in the Forest j city, as Ithaca, N. Y., is well called, for to the south, the east, the west, and even to the north where the lake j cut sharply around a corner, Droaci forests stretched their lengths and * heights of leaf and bough on mini a- ( ture mountains. I One evening on the western side of the railroad tracks, a girl stood before i a small building over which, like ropes j of green, draped the branches of a weeping willow tree. This building ^ was different from any of the other ^ habitations near it in that it was well j painted, and the door stood open all j day. | j 'Twas a strange little girl that gazed up with searching eagerness at the two lighted signs that had arrested her attention. In her arms she held a diminutive guinea pig, and the way she hugged it close demonstrated her love for % it # "THE SALVATION ARMY," she J (malln/l /-.n f a n rl ihrwncrhf-fnll v POnSld OpCIICU V/Ul uuvi VA V? ered it. "Everybody Is welcome here," she ? read slowly. That meant that anyone could enter if he wanted to, she de- ^ cided, and as Tonnibel Devon did want to go In, she softly tiptoed up * the steps and peeped into the room. As there was nobody In sight, she sidled in and looked about ^ "Welcome" was curved in letters of red above a table, and the silent young stranger sighed. She couldn't under-' stand how a girl could be really wel- t come anywhere. Of course her mother liked her and missed her when she was away, but Tony knew of no other place where she was really wanted v but the canal boat, called Mary and Dirty Mary for short, which had been 1 her home ever since she could remember. "Glory be to God in the highest" * swung In letters of gold across the " right wall, and to the left "Stand Still r and. See the Salvation of the Lord," kept her attention a little longer. She 1 didn't know what they meant but the Q varied colors shining brillilnt in the bright Might calmed her turbulent ^ spirit and made her happy. She hugged the pig closer, bent her head 1 and kissed the top of Its ear. ^ c "I guess we're In a church, Gussie." I J ?'* ?"nn/1 TTA11 mncfn't OTTITlt i Kile S211U SlUUU, auu jvu luuwi-u v 5* ?? - | or squeal like you do on the Dirty | ' Mary. It's awful nice and quiet ain't j * It honey?" r "Were you speaking to me?" said a * voice ffbm near the door. - s Tonnihel Pevon struggled to her * feet turned around ahct saW a young s man looking at her. A flame of red j t rushed over the tanned skin, but be-- 0 cause he was smiling and kindly, she ' smiled back, a dimple coming to life 1 c at each corner of her mouth. "Nope." she flung out in confusion, j l "I was talkin' to Gussie-Piglet here, j p Mebbe her and me hadn't ought to be C here. You can kick us out if you j want to." i t Philip MacCauley, the captain of | the Salvation army in Ithaca, bowed, j " and then he laughed. j p "Every one is welcome here," he ' ; quoted, coming forward. "Where'd i c you come from? I've never seen you ; r before." j i "I'm staying up Hoghole way," re- ; c plied Tony. "I ain't been around ? Ithaca long. This is an awful nice ; room, ain't it huh?" j ? "Yes, very. We like it," replied the ' l young man. "Sit down; don't be in a : ^ hurry. I want to talk to you." 'l'onninei uiu sn uuwu uui uui vcijr , ^ comfortably. She was embarrassed In j the presence of this handsome young ; <] stranger, abashed in the glamor of his < uniform, and all the beauty of him. | r With boyish admiration he was con- j templating the sparkle of her gray j eyes, shaded by long lashes as ebony black as her hair which hung in ring- > , lets to her waist. He decided thatj j she was very pretty, and that he liked to have her in the Salvation army , quarters. j "Can't you stay for meeting this ; ^ evening?" he asked presently. "We have singing here." j Tony's eyes deepened almost to lus- 1 . trou? black. ! "(>h. I'd love that!" Then she shook ! her heart. "Nope," she went on. "! got i to go home to mummy. Site's all I aione! Mebbe when my . : 1 } ; .. I ! , ,, ! ,; > "\Vi- !. < . I . !;; : 1 . ' ' 1 '? ! ' ' ?-? s. ;, , ' ;.i;vvr\ hi liie wovUW /Zj? uve >h&dow ofthe kelfernvd JPiives ^ *yGRACE MILLER HIT E copy?/6rrs> g? #?j&-ttyrPAffr fho 3iorm Coutytvu 1 'That's as true's you're born," came jack promptly from the parted red Ips. "I know that because my mother Is sick every day, and she cries too. rhat's misery, ain't It?" Captain MacCauley was used to :ales of woe, but he knew a panacea 'or them. "Yes, it is so," he said. 'Perhaps you could get her to come lere some evening! Do you think you x>uld?" "Daddy wouldn't let her," was the eply, and she lifted unfathomable saddened gray eyes to his. "You see vhen a man owns a woman, and she lon't do the things he tells her to, he >eats her, huh?" There was mute pleading in her expression as she drew back on the >ench a little farther away from him. *Lh! He might have known that she lad been swept along by the relentess tide of brutality. He sighed a ittle. He had seen enough of ignorant nen with their supreme egotism, to mow she told the truth. "Your father is?is?cruel to your nother, then?" he faltered. She remained in deep though.. .? ;he space of a few seconds. u 4 u ~Vv tvi/VWA ft In "A swat ur twu, iiieuut: ujuic, oiju ?. i killin' thing to women folks," was he response she made confusedly at ength. So unusual had been her answer hat Philip MacCauley gazed at her in imazement , "Have you ever heard of?of God?" te asked finally, his own confusion aprarent in the stumble of his tongue. Tonnibel laughed. "I hear God d?n more'n a hundred imes a day," she replied. "Is that vhat you mean?". "Not quite," answered Philip, starled. "No! Not that." "Then what?" demanded Tony. 'What kind of a God do you mean?" "One that is good," explained Philp. "There isn't any God but the one j vho helps?" "My mummy?" breathed the girl, J nisty tears shadowing her eyes. "Yes." "Where is he, then?" The words ^ ;hot forth with such insistence that :omething within Philip MacCauley ose to its demand. 3 "Some one's got to be good to my nother," the girl ran on before he 1 :ould speak. "She's sick?and lonely. 1 )h, I've got to do something for her. 1 t71 ?_ ? 1 ? j ? > ^ iTuere 5 yuur ueiyiu vxuu, luiaici i "Right here in this place," said 5hilip, a strange emotion sweeping >ver him. "In fact there isn't any ; dace where God is not." "He wouldn't come In a dirty canal ' mat, would He?" demanded Tony, >reathlessly. 1 Astonished at such crudeness, Cap- ] ain MacCauley shifted himself about ' o he faced her squarely. Was it pre- ( ended Ignorance or innocence in the 1 earching gray eyes? Then he decided 1 hat truth was stamped on every line 1 if the upturned face. "Of course, everywhere," he exIaimed brokenly. "Why, dear child?" ( Tony Devon interrupted him swift- j y. "Tell me how to manage it," she >leaded. "How can I wheedle your lod to the Dirty Mary?" "To the what?" was the question he boy asked in shocked swiftness. "The Dirty Mary," repeated Tony. 'My mummy and me live on a canal j >oat. Once she were just called ; Mary.' But she's so d?d nasty, Ede j ^ alls her the Dirty Mary. She's a j ^ lice boat just the same as long as my j j nummy's there. But I can't see how a | j dean God could come on 'er. ... I { juess you're foolin' me, mister." Philip swallowed hard. Then slowly ind gently he talked to her, trying to ! t nake her understand as best he could j vhat he meant by God, Spirit. ^ "And you can help your mother, lit:le?what's your name?" "Trtnr inct T/rnniHoi " chio mnmVklo/1 JL VU^ J J UOl JL. V/Ai UJlUVI) iXlUULiUAV/U* I rhen her voice rose and she uttered j ;harply, "Now tell me how to help my ! nother." Philip went to the altar and sorted >ut a small card. } "This," he said, coming back to her, ^ 'has happy, loving thoughts written on , t. If you think these things all the J ime?oh, how they will help both you , md your mother." | j Wonderingly she took It in her , ingers. The first thing that met her ?yes was a beautiful uplifted face of a j nan and in his arms was a little lamb. < Jnderneath the picture was printed, j 'Feed my sheep." and directly under 'hat were the words, "Stand still and ;ee the salvation.of the Lord." Once . iiore her eyes sought the face above, i face wherein lay ai! the pity and ove in the world. t Tony/Devon caught a glimpse of the { cH. ; Sli panting for breath when '! ? anngph-nk of the canal A v; was i.,;A brewing tea when the girl slipped down the steps of the cabin. "You been gone a long time, Tony," mumbled Mrs. Devon. "Did you see anything of your daddy?" "Nope, and I squinted In every beer hole in Ithaca," Tony replied, "but? but?but I found out something for you. Listen ! There's somebody on this boat besides me, and you?and Gussie.'" "Who?" came sharply from the woman. She shivered, fearing that the law lay in wait for her absent husband. "Who, brat?" she repeated imploringly. Tonnibel bent over and looked straight into the sad, wan face. "Onri insfr ? nlnfn lnvin' Ood !" sh? J ^- ? replied, her countenance expressing unusual exaltation. "Sit a minute while the tea's makin' good, and I'll tell you." Side by side they sat together on the bunk while with lowered reverent J- t?lJ- XL... O-.* MM OIQC oy OIUC I liey oaL I vycmvi v>? the Bunk. voice the girl told the story of the Shepherd who had said long ago with infinite pity, "Feed my sheep." "And mummy," the girl continued, leaning her head against her mother's arm, "Darling mummy, that beautiful man said, "Love'd make crooked things straight,' and?and It's so." A look of unbelief came over Edith Devon's face. "Fiddle," she said in a disgusted voice. "Tony, you ain't a brain in your bean." "I don't need any brains as long as I s*ot this, Edie," the girl replied, lifting the card she held. "Come on, let's say these things over. Here's one that'll keep?well, it'll help keep iladdy from beatin' von." Mrs. Devon grasped the girl's arm in sudden frenzy. "You told some one Uriah beats me?" she demanded sharply. "Mebbe I did, and mebbe I didn't," answered Tony, slyly, "but these here cvords about standin' still and watching Salvation slam good all about will ieep pappy's fists up his sleeves. Say it, Edie,* she ended. "I won't," said Edith, getting up swiftly. "If there's anything in it rony, you can show me by gettin' your hrmwv Afphhp hp's in iail." "Even If he was," retorted the girl, ivith a wise shake of her head, "lovin' lard could make the coop-doors fly Tide open-, and daddy'd flop out like a iogfish flops into the lake. I'm goin' to find out more some of these days, ind then I'll tell you all about it Huh, uummy?" "Yes," muttered Edith, "but I'm getting a guess out of the days I spent >n this boat that God, or whoever rou're talkin' about, ain't botherin' his lead over the Dirty Mary, nor us ither." CHAPTER II. The Master of the Dirty Mary. A week before this story opens, [Jriah Devon had steamed the length >f the lake, anchoring his boat as near fthaca as he dared. Even to his wife, Edith, he had not confided why he had irought her to a town where yawning irison doors gaped for her every passng hour. "I won't go, Riah," Mrs. Devon had ;ried when her husband had made the statement that he intended to visit [thaca. "You couldn't get me near :hat place with a rope around my leek." But the very fact that she now sat >n a small bench against the boat rail, gazing moodily at the water, proved :hat Uriah Devon had contrived to lave his way. Occasionally Mrs. Devon lifted her lead to listen and turned her eyes to the west where a narrow path zigzagged its length up the hill to the boulevard, into ner tortured soui iad come a belief since the night be'ore, that Tony's "Gloriest God," .vould send her man home. Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps in the forest path brought her sharply around. At last lie was comng. this man she loved, perhaps Irunk, perhaps to beat her; but nevertheless lie was coming, and that was til she cared about. Uriah Devon slowly walked up the ranvplank in silence. "Where you been?" the woman 'orced herself to say. But instead of eplving. be demandec . "Where* Term: e!?' "1 em Tie." " the answer. "A minite ace she was ever there not ten 01' . eiir : all ibis vceel ?" I; * i a - 'hi., snree. she i>.' had h'*en trunk * . h hat .he had so,. t-. thing unusual on his mind, she knew, f and she knew, too, It was about Ton- I nibel, for hadn't he asked for the kid the moment he'd returned? "It's about time we was doing things, Ede," he said, turning grimly, i "I've waited as long as I dared. Rege says 'Paul Pendlehaven hasn't an inch leeway before he's in his coffin.'" Mrs. Devon's face grew deathly j pale. "What do you mean, honey?" she faltered. "We live like rats in a hole," took j up the man, after a pause, "while if ! Tony was made to do her part, we'd ; be on easy street. That's what I mean. I We've got to have money and lots of j It. Reggie's willing to marry the kid ' if you mind your business afterward. - His marryin' her ain't sayin' he'll stick i to her. But we got to have boodle, ! and wp on n't 2-pt it onlv through her." i '| "He shan't have 'er," the woman | said, with hard tones and flashing j eyes. "How many times 've I got to ! say it over to you? If that's the why you've come to Ithaca, you might as ' well turn the old scow north and go j back again. He's a bum," she went on. "A dude and a fool and everything else that's bad. He's a thief, too." Devon laughed. "So am I, Ede," said he. "So 're you' for that matter. If Reggie knew that j Tony was Paul Pendlehaven's kid, we : wouldn't get one d n cent of her : | money. He snitches from the Pendlej havens and his mother because he ; don't get cash enough other ways. A ; i feller's got to have spendin' money." j "Pretty small pickin's," sneered ! Edith Devon. "Stealin' from folks al' most in the grave ain't my style. Reg| gie's some second-story man, that | young duffer Is." "You sneaked Paul's kid," taunted ! Devon. "He wouldn't be almost in | his grave now If you'd kept your ] hands offn Tony." | The woman turned on him savagely, ! paying no heed to his words. "Get your blasted Reggie to steal onrmorh fr>r n? oil frrvm thp Ppnrllphfl j vens," she said. "God knows they've | pot it and Jo spare. It's better'n ! : handin' Tony over to 'im. He lives at j j Pendlehaven's, don't he?" "He won't do it," cut In Devon. \ I "Reggie ain't got the nerve to burn his i , fingers too deep. Paul Pendelhaven'd 1 send him up for that, If he caught j him. My plan is to get Tony married j I to Rege, and before the lid's screwed 1 down on Pendlehaven's face, shove j i the girl in between John Pendlehaven and his precious cousin, Reggie's mother, and then Rege and me get& s Tony's money, see?" Edith shivered. "I hear what you say," she mut- , tered, "and I 'spose I'll do it If you ! promise not to let that pup hurt Tony when he gets her. . . . Best let's wait i j another year before talkin' marriage i to her, though." "Nothin' doin'," rasped the man, ! ! "Tony's almost a woman, and she's ! ; eatin' her head off. After she's mar* ! ried?" "You two men'll rag the kid to death j or do something worse to her," grit- J I ted the woman. "Well, you won't! Rather'n have that I'll tell her she ! ain't ours. I'll go right bold to Paul . ! Pendlehaven and blurt him the truth. I'll do it today if you keep naggin- at j ? f me. Devon studied her face, his own dis- : torted with rage. "You'll do no such a thing, mad | woman," he returned, running his; tongue over his dry, cracked lips. "If ! you get me in a temper you'd betterj i look out. Reggie knows Tonnibel's got rich folks, but he don't know who they are. You spill the beans, by G?d,! and the lake for yours." S The woman's gaze sought the sheet of blue water. "She'll grow a beard a mile long bei fore I tell 'er," she said finally, bringing her eyes back to his face. "Tell 'er yourself, and see how you like it!" There was a ring of revolt in hei tones that brought an expression oi surprise to the man's face, leaving it angrily, frowningly red. But the ! sound of a girl's voice on the hill brought him suddenly to his feet. '"There she is, by G?d," he cried ! abruptly.. "Now if you want any more : ! lovin's from me?more'n that, if you ! want to stay where I live, you got to do my will." "Uriah, honey, darlin'," cried Edith, "don't sav that I've always stuck by \ | you." "Then keep a stickin'," growled De| von. "For God's sake, tf the brat ain't' lugged that pig clean up that pine i tree!" Above them a giant pine tree lifted its head far above its fellows. Among its branches the man and woman could plainly see the upper half of a girl's figure settled in the crotch of an outspreading limb, and clasped in two slender arms was the small guinea j pig. She bobbed her head gravely, | held up the animal and shook it at them. Tony, herself, little knew why in times of strife she sought refuge; among these forest giants and came I always to happiness. They were ani-! j mated beimrs in her mean little world' j and because she had showered idola-1 | trous iuve on them they, from their j j primeval grandeur, sent an answering ' ; spark of life to her starved little soul. t | j The sight of Tony further enrageu; I Uriah. lie waved her in. "Now tell iu-r oViirejrlit, ami ;r?*t it ' over, r.de." he said, sitting down attain Keai'i.inu the lar.ai hoat., Tony sto"evoii. ShilTiny the pit; Utile, she dree, I down nil' i]:. Si:.- a i'\::\ j e?i !h- ,-e vtth i:.-r :! . : . mother. it v seal.-: |r.(n' < . 'he: : ' i ' ilia \Yf>. ^ 1 !'e;:: her '"lie. he'!*.*'- : j-^eu ?: -t i;e vera with his frowning brow, then at length let her gaze settle on the woman. "I s'pose I been doln' something hellish," she ventured presently In a low tone. "Have I, Edie?" "Nope, not this time, Tony," thrust in Devon. "But we've got to tell you something. You're gettin' to be a woman, Tonnibel, and you got to do something for your mother and me." "I'm always wantin' to do something nice for you, Edie, darling," she said, looking at her mother. "Yap it out quick, sweet, and I'll jump to do it!" The woman began to cry softly. "Go on, Edie," said Uriah. "Why in h?1 are you blubberin' over a thing you can t help?" "But I can help it," cried Edith. "And what's more I will. Run away, baby, and I'll have it out with your pop while you're gone." Devon reached forward and 'aid a strong detaining hand on the girl's arm. "It's this," he got out between his teeth. "You got to get married. You been llvin' on me long enough." The girl stared at him blankly. "Get married," she repeated dully. "Who'd marry a brat like me? I'm nolhin' but a kid yet, and I'm goln' to stay right here with my mother. See? I don't have to?do I, mummy darlin'?" "Ycur ma's word ain't law on this boat," answered Uriah in an ugly tone. "Mine is, though. Fire ahead, Edie, and tell the kid my will." Mrs. Devon coughed spasmodically and toyed with the fabric of her skirt A slender brown hand went up and closed over her twitching fingers. U1 nrnril^n'f mowTT onrr nf fhn milfto x vTuuiuu t maiij auj ui uiv uiuvvu you know, daddy," the girl burst out in desperation. "So get that notion clean out of your mind." Her face settled sullenly into little lines that pursed up the lovely young mouth, and Uriah Devon moved his feet nervously. Perhaps his task wasfi't going to be ?asy after alL "Kid," he said huskily, "if you don't do what you're told, I'll make you. You ain't too old to gad yet. And you'll be missin' one of the best lickin's you ever got if you mind what I tell you." The girl eyed him curiously, making a sidewise gesture with her head. "Who's the duffer you've chose out for me?" she asked at length. "You might as well tell me." "My friend, Reggie," said Devon, bending over and staring at her. Tonnibel's mouth widened until two rows of teeth gleamed through the red of her lips. She made a wry face. "Nothin' like that for me?eh, Edie?" Edith Devon was coming to a resolu "Go On and Finish Me." blazing info ln's, Jut little fists j clem-hed together. { '(.Iks that iiPrv?** ''flier people. I i'apt.v I>evor?," >!." shot ha<*k, "aei it. str *i ??? I in a eh.tir, and ihe\ tret J ! . i i' !>!;:' a;i. i iironah 'em. (Jo on and ! !'!!'? ' '? ( :, :i r i < i -' !>? r- i * .'tit' J J'o : nither !"i\. '(. !! i:;d mo than snake me uatrrj iliai >'u Ilmririe.* tlon that meant trouble for herself and for Tonnibel. "I ain't fought it all out with your daddy, kid," she sniffled weakly. "You get to the cabin and mend them old clothes." Uriah Devon laid his pipe beside him and uttered an oath. "You'll stay, right here, brat," he gritted, "and pay heed to me." "Uriah," screamed the woman, "if you go on with this, I'll tell 'er all I know. I swear I will Tony, honey, Tony, baby, I?I ain't?" With a roar the man sprang forward and In his effort to reach his wife knocked the girl flat on the deck. When Tonnibel rolled over and sat up, her mother was stretched along the boat rail, and Devon was standing over her. She lay so dreadfully still and limp that the girl scrambled to her feet. It wasn't the same Tony who had come fearfully to them but a short period before with the little pig in her arms; nor the same girl who had swung in the treetops making play fellows of the squirrels and answering the shrill calls of the forest birds. She seemed -suddenly to have grown taller, and as she flung herself on Devon, the very strength of her little body sent him sprawling against the side of the cabin. "Now you killed her, d?n you," she screamed. "If you kick 'er ?I'll?I'll?" She dropped at the side of her mother, her threat broken in two by the awful pallor on the woman's face. "Oh, God, mummy darlin', mummy darlin'," she ended in a bitter cry. Growling in rage, Devon turned on her. "Mebbe I have killed 'er," said he. "If so, I'll make a good job of It and finish you too." The girl rose before him, her eyes W? As If his name had brought him out of the forest, Reginald Brown walked down the Hoghole path. ' CHAPTER III. I The Picture of a Baby. Tonnibel's heart Jumped almost Into her throat, then seemed to cease beating. There stood her father growling, enraged and drunk, and as if she wef*e dead and no longer able to help her child, her mother lay almost within touching distance. If Uriah carried out his plans, then the horrid fellow there would soon claim her as his woman. That thought frightened her so that she stepped back as the newcomer came upon the deck. "What's the matter, Ry?" he asked quite casually. "He's killed mummy," burst forth the girl. "And if both you fellers don't want to get pinched, you'd better scoot offen this boat" Uriah laughed, and Reggie's highpitched cackle followed. "Been giving your woman a little discipline, eh, pal?" he demanded, turning on Devon. "Well, they all need it now and then. But she's the liveliest breathing corpse I ever saw. Did you hit 'er, Dev?" "Yep," growled the other man, "and I'm goin' to beat Tony, too. The Impudent brat says she wouldn't marry you if you was the last man llvin'. You watch the brat there, Rege, while I duck Ede in the cabin." Tonnibel, wide-eyed and suffering, saw her father lift her mother up in i his brawny arms and carry her down| stairst none too gently. When he had disappeared, a throat sound made her swing her eyes to the other man. He was contemplating her with a smile, an evil smile, such as she hated In | mem His white teeth seemed like ' many gleaming knives, sharp, strong * and overhanging, his red lips spreading away from them. He took a step toward her and stopped. "Why so much fuss about nothing, my little one?" he said, cooing. "Daddy said I had to marry you," breathed the girl, brushing back a stray curl from her brow. "But I ! don't! I'm goin' to stay with my i mother on the Dirty Mary. There ain't no law forcing a girl to marry a i man she don't like. And I hate you, . see? Huh?' "Who spoke of a law?' smiled Brown. "I didn't! But I do know, my j little Tony-girl, that you'll say a very meek 4yes' when I get through with i you." | Tonnibel suddenly shuddered and a hopeless, helpless feeling went In , waves over her. Oh, to be anywhere in God's clear, clean world! Away from those gleaming lustful eyes! But ! she saw no opportunity to escape. Reginald Brown was blocking the small space through which she must - fly if she were to be saved at all. She , knew very well if she could hide for a little while the two men would drink until they slept Then she could come back and help her mother. Plainly : she had heard the woman weeping be- ' low in the cabin, and even more plainly to her suffering ears came Devon's blows, and after that?silence. Her heart thumped like a hammer against her side. Behind her lay the shining lake. And one hasty -glance over her shoulder oDly added to her fear. There was not a sign of a boat anywhere. She was frantic enough to i scream if it would have done her any ! good. | "I think HI kiss you, my little bird," said Reggie, suddenly, narrowing his eyes. "You're pretty enough for any\ one to want to kiss. By Jove, I never j realized until today just how much I . liked you. If I kissed you, well?perhaps you'd change your mind about?/ ; about things." Tonnibel slid backward to the boat i rail. When she touched it, she whirled about and dove headlong Into the lake. When Reginald Brown saw the girl's feet disappear under the water, he uttered an oath and cried out. He hadn't | expected such an action on her part ! He ran to the cabin steps and i screamed to Devon. "She's in the lake, Ry," he shivered as the other man sprang to the deck. When Tonnibel felt the water over ! her, she swept to the lake's bottom with one long stroke. Then deftly she i rid herself of her dress skirt and began to swim swiftly under the wTater. They were tense minutes that the two men stood waiting, until suddenly beyond them to the south a curly head came above the water's edge. Then they leapt to the shore and raced to| ? rd the place she must land. To t_ j panting girl It was a race for life. Suddenly, like a flashing glimpse from Heaven, the words, "Stand Stall and See the Salvation of the Lord," floated before her eyes like a flame of gold. Philip MacCauley's deep voice seemed fo speak them in her ringing ears immediately after. "Goddy," she groaned. "Salvation of the Lord, oh, I darlin' Salvation." Just then her feet touched the pebhloc on tho hnttom of fhp lake. With one wild leap she was on the shore I and up the bank, tTriah screaming at her to stop. She heard the two men crashing after her. That her short, swift leaps could outdistance them for long if she tried for the boulevard, she had no hope. But all about ner were giant friends with outstretched arms, offering her shelter. For one instant she paused, then sprang into the air, caught the lower branch of a great pine tree and like a squirrel scurried up it. Almost at the top, spanned over by the blue