out the bank-notes, the gold, and the cut money.  He cared little for his own money, and he rarely had much at a time; but he was scrupulously careful in his handling of other people’s.  And he knew that his eyes were not very clear that night, and that his fingers were not so sure as they should be of anything that they touched.  Ruth saw how it was with a tender pang at her heart, for she knew how honest he was and how good, and she loved him.  She knelt down at his side and helped him count the money, over which his clumsy hands were fumbling pathetically, so that there might be no error in the counting.

“There!” he said, tying the string round the wallet, which was now almost empty, and putting it back in his pocket.  “I want you, David, to take this and go over to the salt-works very early in the morning, as soon after daybreak as you can see your way.  Take two of the best black men with you,—­they will take care of you and the money, too,” he added, with his easy-going laugh.  And then he grew suddenly sobered with a touch of shame.  “I wouldn’t give you the money to-night, my boy,” he said hesitatingly, “but—­I am hard to wake in the morning.  I am afraid you couldn’t wake me early enough for me to give you the money in time to get you off by dawn.  And my client will be here with his boat, waiting for the cargo, if you are any later in starting.  But you can take just as good care of the money as I could.  You are not so likely to lose it.”

“I will do my best, sir,” said the boy, quietly.

He took the money and put it away in his safest pocket.  When he had eaten supper with the family, he went back to his shadowed corner under the stairs.  But he could not read his book; his mind was too full of thoughts which were fast becoming a purpose.  Ruth looked at him and at his book now and then, while she talked to the others, and her teasing glances hastened his decision.  She would never laugh at him again for dreaming over romances, if he could prove that he was able to do an earnest man’s part in the world.  Yes, this was the chance which he had been wishing for.  He would go to the salt-works at once—­that very night—­without waiting for daylight and without calling the black men.  The judge would not care; he never cared for anything that did not give trouble, and he need not know until afterward.  David stood up suddenly in the shadows under the stairs.  He had decided; he would go as soon as he could get away from the great room and put his saddle on the pony.  Even Ruth must acknowledge that a night’s ride over the Wilderness Road was the work of a man—­the work of a strong, brave man.

IV

THE NIGHT RIDE

He left the great room for his own cabin at the usual hour.  No one but Ruth observed his going.  She smiled at him as he passed, and caught his hand and gave it a little teasing, affectionate squeeze.  He must leave “The Famous History of Montilion” unread for one night,—­so she said,—­and he must go to bed at once, since he was to be up before the sun.  These little ways of Ruth’s were usually very sweet to him, but he did not find them so that night.  He made no reply, and looked at her gravely, without an answering smile.  Had anything been needed to fix his purpose, this gentle raillery would have been more than enough.