“I lay there till nearly dawn this morning, working at the straps that bound me; finally I managed to get the leg straps loose and got to my feet. My horse was willing enough to be caught and to follow me to Maxwell’s, for I was that stiff I could not mount him.” He did not say with what effort the walk was made after the long restraint. “There I got my hands freed, had some breakfast, fed my horse, and started for home as hard as I could gallop. If Donald had dropped, I would have footed it, but he held out, and here I am.” It was the longest speech David had ever made, and it made its impression, following so closely as it did upon Parker’s adventure. The indignation of the men was roused to the uttermost. “We’ll h’ist Hump; he’s got to get out of here; it’s all his doings,” they cried. “It’ll be too hot for him, he’ll find. Those men wanted to get a chance to make tracks was why they left ye there alone, David; they didn’t want ye to trace ’em.” Parker made his way over to Agnes. “It was David I gave the will to, I remember all about it; it all came back to me as soon as he began his story. I remember that, as I was passing Locke’s ford, he came by and told me he was going to Marietta; it struck me that here was a chance to send the will, and that I could not have a safer messenger. So I concluded that I would make a copy and show that to Hump Muirhead. I had a bit of paper with me that I could use, and the writing of it did not take a moment. I put it in the sliding panel of the little box for safe-keeping. Have you looked to see if there is anything there?” “No,” Agnes replied; “I supposed it was empty. I am so sorry for poor David; he has had a deal of worriment. What a lot of trouble that will has made!” “So much the better, for it will prove its genuineness. Nobody would make such a fuss over a worthless piece of paper, and it is evident that Hump Muirhead considers it important. I am glad that it is in proper hands and that your interests are secure. Hump Muirhead could not have chosen a surer way to rid the settlement of his very undesirable self, for not one of these men will stand such outrages, and we will hunt him out of the neighborhood.” “He deserves it,” Agnes replied. “Poor Jeanie! it was so dreadful to have her wedding-day so nearly a day of grief and sorrow. If David had not been able to free himself, he might still have been lying there, and have died of cold and hunger; that is terrible to think of.” In a few minutes the dinner was ready and a mighty feast it was. The plain table of hewn boards bore no fine damask, but it held a plentiful supply of roast pork, venison, and wild turkey; game pies were flanked by plenty of potatoes and hominy, and there were puddings, pies, and preserves to end up with, so that the company arose well satisfied, keen as their appetites were.