Two of the men had clasped their hands to form an "arm-chair," and thus they brought to the piazza, a very limp, tired Floretta, whose vivacity was all gone, and whose face bore the trace of desperate weeping, while her arms and hands were covered with cuts and bruises, and her little frock was torn and tattered by her struggle with the tough and tightly knotted vines. She lay back against the shoulder of one man who supported her, and looked as if her strength were spent. She changed on the instant that they set her on her feet. Rushing to her mother, she permitted her to clasp her for a moment to her breast, then turning to the group that gathered around her, she cried fiercely: "Look! See my hands! See my arms! See the scratches, where I tried to get away, and it was Sidney Cumston who tied me! He _did_ it, but the other boys _let_ him. Not one tried to hinder him except Jack Tiverton, the littlest one of them all. He tried to make them let me go, but they wouldn't. Oh, somebody punish all but Jack! He _tried_, but he couldn't help me." She was hysterical, and sank to the floor of the piazza, sobbing, and crying, before her mother could catch her. She scrambled to her feet, and was clasped in her mother's arms. Old Mr. Cunningham surprised every one by speaking most kindly to her. She had so often tormented him that it seemed generous that he should offer a bit of comfort. "I don't think we shall let those young rascals escape without a sharp reprimand, and if I was to venture a guess about it, I should say that little Jack, after all, managed to help you, Floretta," he said. She turned in surprise to look at the old face, that now looked so kindly at her. "Come out here, Jack," said the old gentleman, "didn't you write the note that sent us searching for this little girl?" "Yes, sir," said Jack, "and I wrote it 'cause I thought the other big fellows were mean, but if they find out I told, they'll--" "No, they won't," said Mr. Cunningham. "You're no 'tell-tale.' You did just right, and the men here will stand by you. Those big boys were the cowards to torment a little girl. You're the best boy up here in the mountains." "Three cheers for young Tiverton!" shouted some one, and in the midst of the excitement, Mrs. Paxton, with her little daughter, slipped away to their room, after having thanked little Jack for his valuable assistance. Meanwhile old Mr. Cunningham had been searching in this pocket and that for something which he seemed most anxious to find. "Ah, I knew I had it! Come here, Jack!" Blushing and diffident, Jack walked over to the big rocker.