At last, when Ralph feared he could hold out no longer, he heard the familiar whirr of the big water wheel, and caught a glimpse of the mill through openings in the trees. “We’re almost there, Mary, and you will soon be with your father,” he said, smiling down at her. “That will be nice. I’m glad you came,” the child answered; and Ralph believed there was enough of genuine gratitude in those simple words to repay him doubly for all his trouble. All he begrudged was the time it had taken. Only for that he would not have cared had the distance been thrice as long, for it was certainly a pleasure for this lad to do a service to a helpless little creature in trouble. He reached the road over which the supplies of the flour mill were carried, as well as the milled product hauled away. It was easier going now. “There’s my daddy!” exclaimed Mary, struggling up in his arms. Her voice must have reached the ears of a man who was working just outside the door of the mill, for he turned hastily and looked toward them. A moment later and he started on a run toward Ralph. The boy could see that his face betokened alarm. It was not exactly a bad face, though there were the marks of dissipation upon it, showing that Mary’s father had not always led the best sort of a life. “What’s the matter. What’s happened to the child?” he cried, hoarsely, as he came closer to the boy, who had stopped in his tracks now. “Anyhow, he loves the little girl, that’s sure,” thought Ralph, as he saw the look of agony that made the man’s face turn white. “She’s hurt her hand quite badly. I think a rock must have fallen on it while she was picking wild flowers, or reaching into the burrow of a chipmunk. Be careful, sir, it’s bleeding a lot,” said Ralph, as the man took her from his arms. “But I didn’t lose the bucket, daddy, like you said I would!” cried the child, still gripping the tin tightly. “Never mind the bucket, darling; it’s your hand I’m thinking about now. Where did you find her, my boy?” asked the man, eagerly. Ralph was almost panting after his long and tiresome walk, burdened as he had been. He was only waiting to get his breath, so as to say that the little girl ought to be taken to a doctor without delay, and then expected to start in a hurry for the athletic field. “About a quarter of a mile from here, and in the woods. I think she must have been on the way home. I was taking a roundabout way to the baseball field, you see, where I have to pitch a game for Columbia this afternoon,” Ralph explained, seeing the man look inquiringly at his suit. “And you turned out of your way to carry my child all the way here! It was kind of you to do that, my boy, and I won’t forget it in a hurry. This girlie is everything in the world to me, I tell you. Thank you a thousand times for your trouble, and any time Sam Smalling can do anything to return the favor you just call on him, hear?” and he squeezed Ralph’s hand with emphasis.