In the hut on the hill, Donnegan put George quickly to work, and with a door and some bedding, a litter was hastily constructed and swung between the two horses. In the meantime, Donnegan climbed higher up the hill and watched steadily over the town until, in a house beneath him, two lights were shown. He came back at that and hurried down the hill with George behind and around the houses until they came to the pretentious cabin of the gambler, Lebrun. Once there, Donnegan went straight to an unlighted window, tapped; and it was opened from within, softly. Nelly Lebrun stood within. "It's done," she said. "Joe and the Pedlar are sound asleep. They drank too much." "Your father." "Hasn't come home." "And Jack Landis?" "No matter what you do, he won't wake up; but be careful of his shoulder. It's badly torn. How can you carry him?" She could not see Donnegan's flush, but she heard his teeth grit. And he slipped through the window, gesturing to George to come close. It was still darker inside the room--far darker than the starlit night outside. And the one path of lighter gray was the bed of Jack Landis. His heavy breathing was the only sound. Donnegan kneeled beside him and worked his arms under the limp figure. And while he kneeled there a door in the house was opened and closed softly. Donnegan stood up. "Is the door locked?" "No," whispered the girl. "Quick!" "Too late. It's father, and he'd hear the turning of the key." They waited, while the light, quick step came down the hall of the cabin. It came to the door, it went past; and then the steps retraced and the door was opened gently. There was a light in the hall; the form of Lebrun was outlined black and distinct.. "Jack!" he whispered. No sound; he made as if to enter, and then he heard the heavy breathing of the sleeper, apparently. "Asleep, poor fool," murmured the gambler, and closed the door. The door was no sooner closed than Donnegan had raised the body of the sleeper. Once, as he rose, straining, it nearly slipped from his arms; and when he stood erect he staggered. But once he had gained his equilibrium, he carried the wounded man easily enough to the window through which George reached his long arms and lifted out the burden. "You see?" said Donnegan, panting, to the girl. "Yes; it was really wonderful!" "You are laughing, now." "I? But hurry. My father has a fox's ear for noises." "He will not hear this, I think." There was a swift scuffle, very soft of movement. "Nelly!" called a far-off voice. "Hurry, hurry! Don't you hear?" "You forgive me?" "No--yes--but hurry!" "You will remember me?" "Mr. Donnegan!" "Adieu!" She caught a picture of him sitting in the window for the split part of a second, with his hat off, bowing to her. Then he was gone. And she went into the hall, panting with excitement.