Pole gulped down his tense emotion. “I'll tell you what I'll do, little sister,” he proposed. “Promise me you'll overlook what I said just now, an' I'll work these here hands”--he held them up in the starlight--“to the naked bone; I'll use this here brain”--he struck his broad brow with a resounding slap--“till it withers in the endeavor to fetch 'im back safe an' sound, ef you'll jest forgive me.” “Forgive you!” She laughed harshly and tossed her head. “That's already done. More than that, I want to tell you that I've always looked on you as a brother. You made me love you a long time ago by your gentleness and respect for women.” “Oh, little sister,” Pole cried, “I don't deserve that!” “Yes, you do; but find him--find him, and bring him back.” “All right, little sister; I'll do my best.” He stood still and watched her hurry away through the darkness. “Poor little trick,” he sighed. “I was countin' on that one thing to explain Nelson's absence. Since it ain't that, what the hell is it, unless he's been sandbagged down thar in Atlanta an' put out o' the way?” XXVIII IT was quite dark when Pole went into the cottage. There was a fire in the little sitting-room, and by its light he could see his wife through the open door of the next room as she quietly moved about. He paused in the door-way and whispered: “Are the childern asleep, Sally?” “Yes, an' tucked away.” She came to him with a cautious step, and looked up into his face trustingly. “Little Billy kept askin' fer papa, papa, papa! He said he jest wasn't goin' to sleep anywhar except in his own place in yore lap.” Pole went to the children's bed, looked down at the row of yellow heads for a moment, then suddenly bent and took the eldest boy into his arms. “You goose!” Mrs. Baker exclaimed. “I'm sorry I said what I did. You'll spile 'im to death. Thar, I knowed he'd wake up! It's jest what you wanted.” “Did you want yore papa?” Pole said, in cooing tones of endearment. “Well, Billy-boy, papa's got you, an' he ain't a-goin' to let no booger git you, nuther. Thar now, go back to sleep.” And in a big arm-chair before the fire Pole sat and rocked back and forth with the child's head on his shoulder. “Whar've you been, papa?” Billy asked, sliding his arm around Pole's rough, sunbrowned neck and pressing his face to his father's. “To feed the hogs, Billy-boy.” “But you never took so long before,” argued the child. “I had to watch 'em eat, Billy-boy--eat, eat, eat, Billy-boy! They hadn't had anything since mom-in' except roots, an' snags, an' pusley weeds, an' it was a purty sight to watch 'em stick the'r snouts in that slop. Now, go to sleep. Here we go--here we go--across the bridge to Drowsy Town.” In a moment the child was sleeping soundly and Pole bore him tenderly back to bed. As he straightened up in the darkened room his wife was beside him. “I declare you are a _good_ man,” she said--“the best-hearted, tenderest man in the world, Pole Baker!”