George was in this group, and had, as directed, given Barton’s opinion.  Judge Markham, who was giving some last directions joined these men, and listened while Uncle Jonah, in a few words, explained Bart’s theory—­that the girl would turn back from the chopping to the old road, and if there confused, would be likely to go into the woods, and directly away from her home.

“And where is Bart?” asked the Judge.

“He started at about nine last night, with two big bundles of hickory,” said George, “to look for her, and had not returned half an hour ago.”

“Where did he go?” asked the Judge eagerly.

“Into the woods.”

“And has not returned?”

“No.”

“Your girl is safe,” said Uncle Jonah.  “The boy has found her, I’ll bet my soul!”

While the Judge stood, struck and a little startled, by this information, and Jonah’s positive assurance, a man on a foaming steed came plunging down the hill, just south of the house, and pulling up, called out, “Where is Judge Markham?”

“I am he.”

“Oh!  Good-morning, Judge!  This is for you.  Your girl is safe.”

The Judge eagerly took the paper, gazed at it, and at the man, speechless.

“She’s at my house, Judge, safe and sound.”

And then the group of men gave a shout; a cheer; and then another, and another—­and the men forming in the near-line heard it and took it up, and repeated it, and it ran and rang miles away; and all knew that the lost one was found, and safe.

No man who has not felt the lifting up of such an awful pressure, can estimate the rush of escaped feeling and emotion that follows it; and none who have not witnessed its sudden effect upon a crowd of eager, joyous men, shouting, cheering, crying, weeping, scrambling and laughing, can comprehend it, and none can describe it.  All hurried eagerly back to the Judge’s, gathered about the happy, wondering Wilder, and patted and caressed his smoking horse.

Mrs. Markham knew it, and with radiant face and eyes came out with her grateful husband, when the bright sky again rang with the cheers of the assembled multitude.  After quiet came, the Judge read to them the paper he had received from Wilder: 

“JUDGE MARKHAM: 

“Your daughter was found this morning, on the banks of the creek, a mile from Wilder’s, overcome and much exhausted.  She rallied, got into Wilder’s, and appears strong and well.  Wilder will take you to her.”

“Whose name is to it, Judge?”

“There is none—­who gave it to you?”

“The young man who found the young lady, and he didn’t give his name, said the Judge would hear it as soon as he would want to,” was the answer; “he didn’t talk much.”

“It was Barton Ridgeley,” said Jonah.  And the name of Barton went up with new cheers, and louder than any.