She was so tired that the moment her head touched the pillow she was off to sleep. When some time later there came a pounding on the door, she stumbled up, forgetting where she was. "It's a girl to see you, Miss Holliday!" the clerk called. "Says its awful pertickler and to come a-hurryin'!" "Coming, coming!" Harry cried, as she hunted for her shoes under the edge of the bed. "Isita, of course," she told herself. "What can have happened? Has she actually escaped?" Her heart was thumping with suspense and hope as she snatched hat and coat and ran out. Isita was waiting at the foot of the stairs. Harry saw that Isita's black eyes were actually glassy with fear, and that beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. "Isita, dear!" she exclaimed. "What is it? Come upstairs and----" "No! no! Not a moment! Come!" the girl cried in a rasping voice and, catching Harry's arm, pulled her toward the door. "Come. I'll tell you." Too much astonished to dispute or question, Harry followed her to the street. No one in the office had seen them, and the street was empty. After a frightened glance up and down, Isita looked at Harry and opened her lips to speak. But twice she made an effort before a sound came. At last, hoarsely, came the words, "They're going to steal your team!" "Steal my team!" Harry almost smiled with relief and stopped short, but Isita clasped her hands imploringly. "Don't wait," she entreated; "there's not a moment to lose! I ran the second they left me and mother, but they'll be back soon." "But wait. The horses are here. In Kinney's barn," Harry protested. "No, they're not. Oh, you don't understand! Please trust me; I'll explain." Her words came quick and broken, and Harry realized that the girl must have run a great way. No longer questioning or waiting, Harry followed her obediently. Turning down a side street, they came after a while to a place where the pavement ended and an old road curved off. A little beyond this stood a group of old buildings, stone and brick, the deserted roundhouse and shops of a past era. Into one of these Isita led the way, and Harry heard from the darkness the familiar nicker of Rock and Rye. "All right, boys," she began reassuringly, when a voice said: "Please be quiet. You might be overheard." Mrs. Biane stood beside her. "No, don't ask me! I can't say a word!" she exclaimed in a low voice of distress. "'Sita here'll tell you the hull of it by and by. Only hurry and git off, you two. I want you should take my gurl with you, Miss Holliday. I'll be more grateful to you than I can tell. She can come back to me some day when it's safer, happier. There, deary, I know," she said soothingly as the young girl threw herself, weeping, upon her mother's breast. For a minute Mrs. Biane held Isita to her; then, with a last kiss, she unlocked her child's arms and put her gently aside.