He lifted his face toward the blue above him; "Oh, my God, if this cup could but pass from _me!!_" he groaned aloud. "It seems to me I cannot cross that river! It seems to me I _cannot!_" His voice broke and there was silence. "Don't need teh'." Griffith did not hear. His eyes were closed and he was praying for light and leading, as he would have called it--for strength to do the dreaded task, if it must be done. Lengthy looked at him, and then at the not far distant river, and waited in silence. A half mile farther on he said, as if the chain of remarks had been unbroken: "Don't need teh cross. I will fer yeh." "What?" cried Griffith, like a man who has heard and is afraid to believe. "Said yeh didn't need teh cross. I will fer yeh. Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole," he repeated, in the same level key, looking straight at his horse's ears. Griffith's bridle fell upon his horse's neck. Both arms lifted themselves up, and both hands spread as if to grasp something. "Oh, my God, is my prayer to be answered so soon? Do you mean--oh, Lengthy, do you mean that you will save me from this terrible trial? Do you mean----" "I does." He was gazing straight ahead of him now, with elaborate pretense of indifference. He had begun to grasp the situation. Griffith dropped both hands upon his uplifted face, and a cry as of one in great pain escaped him, "O-h-h," in a long quaver. The mountaineer turned his eyes. Griffith was looking straight at him now, like a hunted man who at last sees hope and rescue ahead, but dares not trust it lest it prove but an illusion. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. The mountaineer understood. "Yeh kin go home. I'll do hit. Few words----" Griffith was overtaken with hysterics. He threw both arms above his head and shouted, "Glory to God in the highest! Peace and good will to men!" and covered his face with his hands to hide the emotion he could not control. They were on the banks of the river now, and the commander dashed up. "What in hell's the matter now?" he demanded. "Hit's the river done it," put in the mountaineer, to save his friend the need of words. "Baptized thar." "What? What in the devil are you talking about? What in----" He was looking at Griffith, but Lengthy broke in again with his perfectly level and emotionless voice. "Baptized thar, I sez. Few-words-comprehends-th'--" "Will you dry up? You infernal-- What does this mean?" He turned again to Griffith, who had regained his self-control. The commander usually acted upon him as a refrigerator, so incapable was he of understanding human emotion that reached beyond the limits of irritability. "General," he began, slowly, "I have just arranged with Mr. Patterson for him to take my place as Government Guide. I can go with you no farther. That house over there in the distance"--he stretched out his hand--"used to be my old home. I love the people who live here--all about here. This river----"