The excited dog flew at him, leaping on the buckboard so as to reach him. The mongrel was delighted, and showed it as plainly as a dumb brute could. But he was anxious, too. He leaped back to the ground, ran a little ahead, and then looked back to see if the man was following. The hardware dealer shouted to him again: “Go ahead, Princey! We’re coming!” He picked up the reins and Cherry started. The dog, barking his satisfaction, ran on ahead and struck into a side path which led down a glade. Joseph Stagg knew immediately where this path led to. There was a spring and a small morass in the bottom of the hollow. “Bless me!” he thought, “once this fire gets to going, the heat will lick up that spring in a mouthful.” He forced Cherry into the path. It was somewhat difficult to push through with the buckboard. Prince still barked, running ahead. “Go on! Good dog!” cried Mr. Stagg. “Lead the way to Hannah’s Car’lyn!” He heard the little girl screaming: “Oh, Uncle Joe! Oh, Uncle Joe! Here we are!” Cherry rattled the buckboard down to the bottom of the hollow and stopped. There was some smoke here, but not much. The man leaped to the ground when he saw a figure rise up from the foot of a tree by the spring—a figure in brown. “Joseph! Thank God!” murmured Amanda. The hardware dealer strode to her. She had put out both her hands to him, and he saw that they were trembling, and that tears filled her great brown eyes. “Oh, Joe!” she said, “I feared you would come too late!” “But I’m here, Mandy, and I’m not too late!” he cried; and, somehow—neither of them could, perhaps, have explained just how—his arms went around her and her hands rested on his shoulders, while she looked earnestly into his face. “Oh, Joe! Joe!” It was like a surrendering sob. “It’s not too late, is it, Mandy? Say it isn’t too late!” he pleaded. “No, it’s not too late,” she whispered. “If—if we’re not too old.” “Old!” almost shouted Joseph Stagg. “I don’t remember of ever feeling so young as I do right now!” and suddenly he stooped and kissed her. “Bless me! what fools we’ve been all this time!” “Oh, Uncle Joe! Oh, Miss Amanda!” cried Carolyn May, standing before them, and pointing with a rather grimy index finger. “You aren’t mad at each other any more, are you? Oh, I am so glad! so glad!” and her face showed her pleasure. But the situation was too difficult to allow of much but practical thoughts. “Where’s the old woman?” asked Joseph Stagg quickly. “Her husband came with a horse and buggy late last night and took her over to the new camp,” was the reply. “Of course, there was not room for Carolyn May and me—and we did not wish to go, anyway. “Judy is much better, poor soul, and I was glad to be relieved of her care. Mr. Mason warned me there was a big fire over the mountain, but I had no idea it would come this way.” [Illustration: “_You aren’t mad at each other any more, are you?_”]