It is growing late, but Nora Judson did not retire at her usual hour. She dared not, lest she should lose the sight that had greeted her on many similar occasions. However, she should not fail in one duty, her evening prayer. This had been a lifelong duty, taught her early. Even in the roughest and most rugged parts of this great universe the children are taught that God liveth and reigneth. Somehow God gets into the most seemingly forsaken communities in the remotest corners of the earth, and lets it be known that He is the Almighty. He assumes power everywhere. The child of the wildest region learns some form of prayer. Mrs. Judson had taught Nora in her earliest days to say "Now I lay me down to sleep," but knowing that she was not going to sleep this night Nora said to herself, "What shall I do? what shall I do? fer I hain't a-goin' to lay me down ter sleep this night. I hain't. O Lord, what shall I say?" Strange as it may seem, it had never occurred to her that any form of speech other than she had been taught would be a prayer, therefore she was utterly lost to know how to proceed. She looked wonderingly heavenward as if to catch inspiration. Then it was that the thought was aroused within her, the thought that she should pray for others. Her pure young heart had found a way to speak to God, so she bowed her head and clasped her hands and said tenderly, "O God,"--she hesitated as if gathering thought for expression,--"kin Ye keep a secret? Ef Ye kin, don't tell anybody how the old brindle cow got under the wire. Don't, fer goodness' sake, 'cause ef ye do, hit mout git _him_ into trouble. O God, he is so nice. Them han'some eyes of his'n is a-hauntin' of me yet, an' he was so good ter help me find old brindle an' drive her home. I _was_ askeered to come up ther road by myself, but I didn't want to let on to him like as ef I was, 'cause he mout a-thought I was weak, an' he was so good an' spoke so tenderly an' kind-like. "No man hain't never spoke to me that away afore, not even Al Thompson; but I 'spect I don't keer nuthin' 'bout Al, an' maybe I never did; an' _he_ said he was here for his health an' would raise ter--he said to-bac-co. He knows, an' that must be right. O God, I hope Ye didn't let Tom see him as he was a-goin' back ter his shanty, 'cause ef ye did, hit mout bring on more trouble fer him, an' I know Ye don't want him to get into trouble. Tom's a good boy an' don't mean anybody harm, but----" Nora stopped and leaned forward, straining her ears to catch the weird sound. From toward the mountain there came the clattering of many horses' feet as they fell heavily upon the rocky hillside. On they came. Nearer and nearer, louder and louder, the clattering sound grew. Every strike of a hoof upon the rocky way was like a needle driven into her breast over her heart. With few words she cut her prayer short. Looking heavenward she muttered imploringly, "Save him, an' let old brindle git out again sometime."