"Unless it is a drink of water, not a thing shall pass through this doorway to you till you pledge me that you will speak to Margaret, as you did before you took your devil's vow." The dour old man, in his erstwhile prison, had the last word: "Gang awa' wi' ye,--for it'll be a long time, Willum Auld. The snaw will be fallin' blue frae the Heavens." We went back to the cottage and gave implicit instructions to Margaret and Rita how they were to handle the prisoner. Neither of them was in an easy frame of mind, and I feared considerably for their ability to stand the test and keep away from the log hut. But the minister retained the key, so that nothing short of tearing the place down would let Andrew Clark out. Next day, late in the afternoon, the minister called in for me and we sailed over to the ranch. Margaret, though sorely tempted, had kept religiously away from her husband; but, already, she had a variety of foodstuffs cooked and waiting his anticipated release. We went over to the barn and the minister rapped on the door. "Are you there, Andrew?" No answer. "Andrew Clark,--are you there?" Still no response. I looked though the boarded window. The old Scot was standing with his back to us in a studied attitude. Once more the minister spoke, but still he received no answer. The women folks were waiting anxiously, and keen was their disappointment when they heard that another day would have to pass ere the head of their house could be released. "God forgive me if I am doing wrong," exclaimed William Auld to me, "but I am determined, now that I have put my hand to the plough, I shall not turn back." Wednesday came, and we called again. "Andrew," called the minister through the door, "will you relent and talk to Margaret?" "Give me a drink of water," came a husky voice from behind the door. A saucer of cold water was passed under the door to him and he seized it and drank of it eagerly. "Will you talk to Margaret, Andrew?" "No!" snapped the old fellow. And back again he dropped into silence. Still another day and the performance was repeated. Still Andrew Clark remained adamant; still Margaret Clark begged and prayed on her knees for his release. "We will give him one more day," said the minister, "and then, if it is God's will, we will release him and take the consequences of our acts." On the Friday afternoon, we made what we considered would be our last trip. Dour, stubborn, old man! It looked as if he were about to beat us after all, for we could not afford to injure his health, no matter what the reason for it. As it was, we had broken the law of the land and we were liable to punishment at the hands of the law. The Rev. William Auld, suffering far more than the prisoner could have suffered during that trying time, knocked at the solid door once more. "Andrew! Andrew!" he cried, "for God's sake, be a man." He had the key to the door in his hand, ready to open it.