Then the boys began searching hurriedly, and after a quick glance about the open and lighter space before them, went pushing their quest farther and farther into the distant dark of the wings and gables. Louise stood where they had left her, with the feeling that _the end of all things_ was at hand, and that there was no use to struggle further. Presently her mist-dimmed eyes were attracted to a pile of something over at a small window near where she stood. The janitor had thrown their beautiful flag across an old couch without taking the trouble to roll it properly. The indignant little girl started toward the couch to straighten out and roll the flag when her ear caught a sound which caused her to pause a moment in dim speculation. There was a step below, a firm, a familiar step--but no, she must be mistaken! She slipped over to the couch, but the next moment drew back and clapped her hand over her mouth to repress a startled scream. A little yellow-haired boy lay asleep upon the couch, with the big flag nearly covering him! Louise leaned over him. Two shining drops still lay on his cheek. He had sobbed himself to sleep--he was such a _little_ boy! [Illustration: "You can't touch Rudolph!" she tried. "He's under the flag!"] A drift of damp air floated in from the window, and the sleeper shivered and moved as if to cuddle further under his shelter. Louise very gently drew the bunting folds closer about his neck. Somehow she _knew_ that this was not desecration. That steady step from below again and--nearer! But just at that moment the boys came noisily back from the distant wings and gables. "Hello, Louise! What are you doing there?" Luke Musgrove called. Louise started up. She was between them and the sleeping boy, but she could not screen him from their astonished eyes. "Gee, but there he is!" exclaimed Billy. "Let's----" But the spirit of a long line of just and fair Americans was facing them. Louise Carey was descended from ancestors who had bought freedom and fair play with their blood, so in that hour--when she faced the unthinking lawless--there was a something in her eyes which brought them to a stand before her. "You can't touch Rudolph!" she cried. "He's under the flag!" A quiet fell upon them. They looked first at the sacred, sheltering flag of their country, and then at each other. And while they yet paused in awe there came to them the sound of a steady, familiar step on the garret stair. The next moment the door opened and there entered Miss Barclay--the teacher who, by her wisdom and her justice, could always command to stillness the tempests of their childish hearts. AMERICA FIRST Little Riego Yañez was a native of Mexico--of that unhappy part of Mexico which is constantly plundered by revolutionary bands who spend their time in fighting, and who win their supplies by robbing the more stable people of the republic.