It was only when the horses had been put up for the night, and he was once more lying on the wet cabin-floor, listening to the beating of the rain on the deck above his head, that he was able to think clearly. How everything that he had done, and all his woes and troubles, rushed before him! With his prejudice and passion all swept away, he went over in his mind the events of the last three months. His follies and sins became as plain to him as if they had been committed by another. Slowly but surely, as he pondered, there came into his mind the irresistible conviction that he must go home. The old and beautiful story of the Prodigal Son came up from the depths of memory and glowed before him. He would go back, as did the child of the parable; but he would go in such repentance and humility as the Prodigal Son had never dreamed of. He could not wait. He resolved to start at once,--now, in the night, in the storm, if he could but escape his keepers. But there was Charlie,--poor Old Charlie!--who deserved, far more than did he himself, to escape from the sufferings of the present. How could he leave the old horse? A thought came into his mind so suddenly that it brought him up on his elbow. Charlie should help him to escape! He would take the horse home where he belonged. They would go back to the old home together. Joe lay back for a moment, almost breathless with his scheme. Then, cautiously laying his quilt aside, he rose, put on his jacket, hat, and shoes, and climbed softly up the steep cabin-stairs to the deck. The rain had ceased at last, and low in the west a half-moon was struggling through the mist of clouds. For a moment Joe listened. No sound came from the sleepers in the cabin. Then he leaped lightly to the tow-path. It was not far to the stable where the horses and mules were kept, and he lost no time in going there. As he opened the door and peered into the darkness of the stable, the heavy breathing of the sleeping animals came strangely on his ears. In a near stall, a dim, white shape struggled up and was still. It was Old Charlie. He recognized his young master with a subdued neigh, and tossed his head impatiently. The next moment Joe had untied him, and led him out into the night. “We’ve got a long ride before us, Charlie,” he said, standing for a moment at the stable door to transform the halter strap into driving reins. “It’s a long ride; but then, you know, we’re going--we’re going home!” Again the horse tossed his head, as if he understood. Joe, catching hold by the mane, leaped to Charlie’s back, as he had done many times in the dear old days. He rode slowly down the little hill to the tow-path, turned in the direction from which they had come,--the direction in which home lay,--and galloped away.