At once there passed before her closed eyes pictures of brave, laughing little children of the mountain; ragged, barefooted, pleading children, walking miles over the frosts of November to attend their school, the first real school they would have known.

“No!” She set her teeth hard. “There is still a way. I will wait here for Marion’s signal. It will come. If she has news, good news, somehow I will find my way to Caleb Powers. Somehow the race must be won!”

That same evening, just at dusk, Marion came upon a fresh and startling mystery. She had climbed the hill at the back of the ancient whipsawed cabin which was occupied by Mrs. McAlpin and her friends.

Beside the bubbling brook that sang so softly, she had found she could think calmly. There was reason enough for calm thinking,. . . Read More