He went again to his brother's grave, and there, on its head, was an almost fresh wreath of wild flowers! He was unmanned; and, kneeling, touched the dead children of the Spring with his lips, and dropped tears upon them. How grateful he was that a watchful love was there to care for this consecrated place, and he felt that he could not go that night. What mattered one day? He would wait till to-morrow, he thought, but was restless and undecided. George left him at the cemetery, and went to the post-office, and was to have gone with Edward to see him off, on the stage. As the time to leave approached, Bart found his disinclination to go even stronger; and he finally told his mother he would remain until the next day. She, unwomanlike, did not like the idea of his yielding to this reluctance to go. "He was ready, nothing detained him, why not have the final pain of going over at once?" He made no reply, but lounged restlessly about. At about nine o'clock George came bursting in, with his eyes flashing, and his golden hair wet with perspiration; and catching his breath, and reducing and restraining his voice, cried out: "Julia Markham is lost in the woods, and they can't find her!" The words struck Bart like electricity, and at once made him his best self. "Lost, George?" taking him by both hands, and speaking coolly, "tell me all about it." A few great gasps had relieved George, and the cool, firm hands of Bart had fully restored his quick wits. "She and Nell Roberts had been to Coe's, and Orville started to go home with Julia, and he did go down to Judge Markham's fields, where he left her." "Well?" "She did not go home, nor anywhere, and they have been looking for her, all through the woods, everywhere." "All through what woods, Georgie?" "Down between Coe's and the State road." "They will never find her there; there is a new chopping, back of Judge Markham's fields, which she mistook for the fields, and when she found out the mistake she turned back to the old road, and I will wager the world that she went into 'the woods,' confused and lost." After a moment--"Mother, put some of your wine in my hunting-flask, and give me something that can be eaten. Edward, bring me two of those bundles of hickory; and George, let me have your hatchet and belt." He spoke in his ordinary voice, but he looked like one inspired. Throwing off his coat, and arraying himself in a red "wamus," and replacing his boots with heavy, close-fitting brogans, he was ready. "Boys," said he, "go about and notify all in the neighborhood to meet at Markham's, at daylight; and tell them for God's sake, if she is not found, to form a line, and sweep through the west woods. If I am not back by daylight, push out and do all you can. Mother, don't be anxious for me. If it storms and grows cold, you know I am a born woodsman. I know now what kept me." "I am anxious, Barton, only that you may find her. God go with you!"