"I will not fail, mother, so please do not object any longer. Every moment is precious to me. The horses have had their supper, and I will be away in less than three minutes." It was little wonder if Mrs. Lewis looked with anxious foreboding upon this movement, for it certainly did seem a hopeless undertaking. Little Snap, in his boyish enthusiasm, did not stop to count the cost. Neither did he realize the possible consequence of his absence at that time. Whoever may be inclined to censure him for such a rash attempt must remember that he acted upon the impulse of the moment, and not with the clear judgment he would have shown a few years later. I speak of this now in slight extenuation of the startling result to follow. Losing no further time in talk, the postboy threw the saddle on Fairy's back, and when she was in readiness for a start, he led Jack out of his stall, and slipped the bridle on his head. "I wouldn't do it, Jack, old fellow, only I must. We have a long ride before us, and a strange one." The next moment he was in the saddle and ready for a start. "Don't get worried, mother, whatever happens. I can look out for myself. I count on getting to Volney about one o'clock; then I shall rest an hour and a half before starting back. I will get home, if nothing happens, at half-past five." "I wish you weren't going. But you must speak to Mr. Rimmon as you go past his house. You will, won't you?" Promising that, Little Snap bent over to give his good-by kiss, and the following moment he was speeding swiftly away on his long journey. "I have done wrong, I know I have, in letting him go," she said, to herself, as she watched him out of sight. With no thought of sleep, she returned to the house to begin her lonely vigil. Dix had not been gone more than fifteen minutes before a loud thumping upon the door startled her from her unhappy reverie. Looking out of the window, she was still further terrified by the appearance of half a dozen men in front of the house. "What is wanted?" she asked, in a tremulous voice. "We want that precious scamp, Dix Lewis!" came the reply in the well-known voice of Sheriff Brady. "Oh, dear! what does this mean?" she exclaimed. "Are you going to open the door, or shall we have to break it down?" "My son is not here—he is gone!" she cried. "He has——" Renewed thumping on the door drowned the conclusion of her sentence. "Gone?" demanded the furious tone of the sheriff. "Woman, what do you mean? Stave in the door, men!" "No—no! I am opening it. How my hand does shake. Wait a moment, please." Trembling so she could hardly stand alone, Mrs. Lewis soon threw open the door, saying: "What has happened now?" "Happened? Jason Warfield has decided not to stand on your son's bail, and Judge Claverton has found out that Rimmon is no good there, as he is already in the employ of the government. So we want the body of the boy. Where is he hiding?"