Before either of the men could speak again, Dannie opened his eyes and looked around him. “What is it, Gran’pap?” he asked. “What did I do? Where--oh! I remember.” Then, as his recollection grew more distinct, he exclaimed:-- “I’m not to go to jail, Gran’pap! Did you hear ’em say so? I’m not to go to jail!” The horrible nightmare of imprisonment that had brooded over his pillow for weeks had suddenly vanished, and he could not contain himself for joy. “No, Dannie,” replied the old man, gently, “no, not to jail. They’ve no call to punish you. You’ve borne a thousand times too much already. We’ll go home, Dannie. Can you get up? Can you get on your feet? Can you walk? There, that’s it. Hang on to my arm, so! We’ll go home.” “Father!” It was Charlie Pickett who spoke. The old man did not heed him. “Father!” The voice attracted Dannie’s attention. It had, somehow, a familiar sound. He loosened his grasp on the old man’s arm and turned to look at the speaker. Then the blood rushed into his face again. He recognized his friend of the night journey through the gap. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said, holding out his hand. “Gran’pap, this man was good to me. He was good to you, Gran’pap, an’ to those in the graveyard, an’ to all of us.” But Abner Pickett stood speechless, with stony eyes and rigid face. Charlie turned to the tipstaff and the doctor. “Will you kindly leave us alone together?” he asked. “It is a family matter I wish to settle. Gabriel, please close the door and guard it.” Then they were alone together in the room; three generations, the same blood running in their veins, the same family pride swelling their hearts, the same will and grim determination shaping every act of their lives. Dannie, stunned by the revelation that had been so suddenly made to him, sank back again upon the bench, looking, with bewildered eyes, first upon one man, then upon the other. He could not yet quite comprehend it; but the joyful truth was forcing itself slowly in upon his mind that this fine, stalwart, lovable man was his father. When the door was closed, Charlie turned to the boy. Frank, impetuous, unselfish, as he had ever been, he spoke his mind.