At last the friendly star disappeared entirely, but in its place came a faint light—­such a very faint suspicion of light that he was not sure it was light.  Slowly, very slowly, it grew brighter, until he could see the outline of the opening far above him, and he knew that he had lived to see the light of another day.  Then Mark prayed, prayed as he had never dreamed of praying before.  He thanked God for once more letting him see the blessed daylight, and prayed that he might be shown some means of escape.  He prayed for strength to hold out just a little while longer, and it was given him.

When Frank March was drawn to the surface, and said he had been let down into a swift current of water, Mr. Elmer buried his face in his hands, and groaned aloud in the agony of his grief.

“Why did I bring him to this place?” sobbed the stricken man.  “To think that his life should be given for mine.  If we had only stayed in the North my life might have been taken, but his would have been spared.  O, Heavenly Father! what have I done to deserve this blow?”

For some time the others respected his grief, and stood by in silence.  Then Mr. March laid his hand gently on the shoulder of his friend, and said,

“You are indeed afflicted, but there are others of whom you must think besides yourself.  His mother and sister need you now as they never needed you before.  You must go to them.”  Turning to Frank, he said, “I will go home with Mr. Elmer, but I want you to ride with Jan in the direction you think this stream takes, and see if you can find its outlet or any other traces of it.  There is a bare possibility that we may recover the body.”

So they separated, the two gentlemen riding slowly and sadly homeward, and Frank and Jan riding southward with heavy hearts.

They had not gone more than half a mile when they came to a little log-house in the woods, and as the sun had risen, and they and their horses were worn out with their night’s work, they decided to stop and ask to be allowed to rest a while, and for something to eat for themselves and their animals.

The owner of the house was a genuine “cracker,” or poor white—­ lean, sallow, and awkward in his movements, but hospitable, as men of his class always are.  In answer to their request he replied,

“Sartin, sartin; to be sho’.  Light down, gentleMEN, and come inside.  We ’uns is plain folks, and hain’t got much, but sich as we has yo’ ‘uns is welkim to.  Sal, run fo’ a bucket of water.”

As Frank and Jan entered the house, a little-barefooted, tow-headed girl started off with a bucket.  They were hardly seated, and their host had just begun to tell them about his wonderful “nateral well,” when a loud scream was heard outside.  The next instant the little girl came flying into the house, with a terror-stricken face, and flung herself into her father’s arms.

“Why! what is it, gal?  So, honey, so!  Tell yer daddy what’s a-skeering of ye”; and the man tried to soothe the child, and learn the cause of her sudden fright.