“I declare for’t,” exclaimed one man.  “That girl will have to go with us, Doctor Davison.  You see what the dog means to do.”

Ruth spoke to the mastiff, commanded him to leave her and find “Tom.”  But although the dog looked at her intelligently enough, and barked his response—­ a deep, sudden, explosive bark—­ he refused to start without her.

“It’s a long way for the girl,” objected Doctor Davison.  “Besides, she is waiting to meet her uncle.”

“I am not tired,” she told him, quickly.  “Remember I’ve been sitting all the afternoon.  And perhaps every minute is precious.  We don’t know how badly the dog’s master may be hurt.  I’ll go.  I’m sure I can keep up with you.”

Reno seemed to understand her words perfectly, and uttered another short, sharp bark.

“Let us go, then,” said Doctor Davison, hurriedly.

So the men picked up their lanterns and the stretcher again.  They crossed the tracks and came to a street that soon became a country road.  Cheslow did not spread itself very far in this direction.  Doctor Davison explained to Ruth that the settlement had begun to grow in the parts beyond the railroad and that all this side of the tracks was considered the old part of the town.

The street lights were soon behind them and they depended entirely upon the lanterns the men carried.  Ruth could see very little of the houses they passed; but at one spot—­ although it was on the other side of the road—­ there were two green lanterns, one on either side of an arched gate, and there seemed to be a rather large, but gloomy, house behind the hedge before which these lanterns burned.

“You will always know my house,” Doctor Davison said, softly, and still retaining her hand, “by its green eyes.”

So Ruth knew she had passed his home, to which he had so kindly invited her.  And that made her think for a moment about Uncle Jabez and Aunt Alvirah.  Would she find somebody waiting to take her to the Red Mill when she got back to the station?

CHAPTER IV

 The gate of the green eyes

It was a dark lane, beneath overhanging oaks, that met and intertwined their branches from either side—­ this was the Wilkins Corners road.  And it was very steep and stony—­ up hill and down dale—­ with deep ruts in places and other spots where the Spring rains had washed out the gravel and sand and left exposed the very foundations of the world.

It seemed as though no bicyclist, or motor-cyclist would have chosen this road to travel after dark.  Yet there was a narrow path at the side—­ just wide enough for Ruth and Doctor Davison to walk abreast, and Reno to trot by the girl’s side which seemed pretty smooth.

“We don’t want to go by the spot, Doctor,” said one of the men walking ahead with the lights.  “Don’t the dog show no signs of looking for Tom?”