He passed nobody on the road.  People hugged their fires on such a cold night, and he rode hour after hour without interruption.  It was nearly midnight when he stopped on a high hill, free of forest, and looked down upon Pendleton.  The wonderful clearness of the winter night helped him.  All the stars known to man were out, and helped to illuminate the world with a clear but cold radiance.

Although a long distance away Dick could see Pendleton clearly.  There was no foliage on the trees now, and nearly every house was visible.  The great pulse in his throat throbbed hard as he looked.  He saw the steeples of the churches, the white pillars of the court house, and off to one side the academy in which he and Harry Kenton had gone to school together.  He saw further away Colonel Kenton’s own house on another hill.  It, too, had porticos, supported by white pillars which gleamed in the moonlight.

Then his eyes traveled again around the half circle before him.  The place for which he was looking could not be seen.  But he knew that it would be so.  It was a low house, and the evergreens about it, the pines and cedars would hide it at any time.  But he knew the exact spot, and he wanted his eyes to linger there a little before he rode straight for it.

Now the great pulse in his throat leaped, and something like a sob came from him.  But it was not a sob of unhappiness.  He clucked to his horse and turned from the main road into a narrower one that led by the low house among the evergreens.  Yet he was a boy of powerful will, and despite his eagerness, he restrained his horse and advanced very slowly.  Sometimes he turned the animal upon the dead turf by the side of the road in order that his footsteps might make no sound.

He drew slowly nearer, and when he saw the roof and eaves of the low house among the evergreens the great pulse in his throat leaped so hard that it was almost unbearable.  He reached the edge of the lawn that came down to the road, and hidden by the clipped cone of a pine he saw a faint light shining.

He dismounted, opened the gate softly, and led his horse upon the lawn, hitching him between two pines that grew close together, concealing him perfectly.

“Be quiet, old fellow,” he whispered, stroking the great intelligent head.  “Nobody will find you here and I’ll come back for you.”

The horse rubbed his nose against his arm but made no other movement.  Then Dick walked softly toward the house, pulses beating hard and paused just at the edge of a portico, where he stood in the shadow of a pillar.  He saw the light clearly now.  It shone from a window of the low second story.  It came from her window and her room.  Doubtless she was thinking at that very moment of him.  His throat ached and tears came into his eyes.  The light, clear and red, shone steadily from the window and made a band across the lawn.

He picked a handful of sand from the walk that led to the front door and threw it against the window.  He knew that she was brave and would respond, but waiting only a moment or two he threw a second handful fully and fairly against the glass.