He hoped that Sinth had left the ridge, now overrun with flames, and fled down the slope. If so she would be looking for Leonard's Trail. He stopped every few paces and sent a loud halloo into the woods. Fire was crackling down the side of the ridge. As he looked back it seemed to him that the great lake of hell must be flooding into the world. Soon the trail led him to Sinth, who was on her knees and sobbing beside her brother. That wiry little woman had struggled there alone with energy past all belief. She thought only of the danger and forgot her pain. She had toiled with the heavy body of her brother, as the ant toils with a burden larger than itself, dragging it slowly, inch by inch, in the direction of Harris's. She had moved it a distance of some fifty feet before she heard the call of Master. Then she fell moaning and clinging to the hands of him she loved better, far better even, than she had ever permitted herself to know. It may well be doubted--O you who have probably lost patience with her long ago!--if anything in human history is more wonderful than the lonely struggle of hers in that dim, flaring, threatening hell-glow. Master quickly knelt by the fallen Emperor. "What's the matter?" he asked. "He's gi'n out--done fer me until he can't do no more," she wailed. She put her arms around the great breast of the man and laid her cheek upon it tenderly. Then her heart, which had always hidden its fondness, spoke out in a broken cry: "Silas Strong--speak t' me. I can't--I can't spare ye nohow--I can't spare ye." The children knelt by her and called with frightened voices: "Uncle Silas! Uncle Silas!" Strong began to move. Those beloved voices had seemed to call him back. He put his hand on the head of Sinth and drew it close to him. "B-better times!" he whispered. "B-better times, I tell ye, s-sis!" He struggled to his knees. "S-say," he said to Master, "I've been shot. T-tie yer han'kerchief r-round my arm quick." The young man tied his handkerchief as directed. Then Strong tried to rise, but his weight bore him down. "Lie still," said Master. "I can carry you." He took the rope from Zeb's collar and looped it over the breast of the helpless man and drew its ends under his arms and knotted them. Then, while Sinth supported her brother, the young man reached backward over his shoulders and, grasping the rope, lifted his friend so their backs were against each other, and, leaning under his burden, struggled on with it, the others following. It was a toilsome, painful journey to Harris's. But what is impossible when the strong heart of youth, warmed with dauntless courage, turns to its task? We that wonder as we look backward may venture to put the query, but dare not answer it. Often Master fell to his knees and there steadied himself a moment with heaving breast, then tightened his thews again and rose and measured the way with slow, staggering feet.