The objects caused Martin to groan as he beheld them. He suffered as he had not suffered since Sandy's mother died in his arms! Like a drowning man he relived the years--the hard years when he cared for and loved the baby-child alone in the cabin. He recalled the boy's sunny ways and sweet confidence, until the Woman Mary entered their life. He had been miserable, his lower nature craved its own, and Mary came! He had accepted and he had lost his self-respect; everything! There was nothing left; there would be nothing more until--the end came, unless Sandy succeeded. Just then the moon came over a bank of black clouds and lit The Hollow. It shone full on Lost Mountain and into the deserted shed where but lately Sandy had suffered and slept. Martin Morley dropped on his knees and turned his haggard, pain-racked face upward. He had once been a religious man; had once been a leader in the little church at The Forge before he gave up hope and ambition. His prayers had been the pride and boast of the mountainside, but that was long ago, and his lips with difficulty formed, now, the sacred words. "God-a'mighty!" he breathed, "take care of that lil' boy out there alone on The Way. Don't fail him on the big road; keep him to the end! I ain't asking You to do anything more for me; I've give up; but he's just started forth! Watch him; keep him; don't let the sins of his fathers or his enemies tech him. Amen!" There was a note of command in the prayer. A demand for justice and protection for one who could not defend himself. Having worded his appeal, Martin rose stiffly from his knees and closed the door of the shed after him. He had done what he could; he must bear the agony and remorse silently from now on. The old laziness and indifference returned slowly as he retraced his steps, and when he entered the silent cabin again he went naturally to the crooked stairs leading up to the loft. The door was closed and locked! Mary had, in this final fashion, proclaimed her independence. Martin made no effort to force his way or question the proceedings; with a weary sigh he looked about, then went quietly to an old settle by the hearth. Taking off his wet and ragged coat he rolled it up and placed it for a pillow. Finally he stretched his aching body upon the improvised bed and fell into a restless slumber. VI