Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. [Illustration: His audience was fairly hanging on his words] THE ROSE IN THE RING By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY A. I. KELLER CONTENTS BOOK ONE I THE FUGITIVE II IN THE DRESSING TENT III DAVID ENTERS THE SAWDUST RING IV A STRANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE V SOMETHING ABOUT THE BRADDOCKS VI DAVID JENISON'S STORY VII THE BROTHERS CRONK VIII AN INVITATION TO SUPPER IX A THIEF IN THE NIGHT X LOVE WINGS A TIMID DART XI ARTFUL DICK GOES VISITING XII IN WHICH MANY THINGS HAPPEN XIII THE SALE BOOK TWO I THE DAUGHTER OF COLONEL GRAND II THE STRANGER AT THE HALL III THE MAN WHO SERVED HIS TIME IV THE DELIVERY OF A TELEGRAM V THE LOVE THAT WAS STAUNCH VI DOOR-STEPS VII TOM BRADDOCK'S PROMISE VIII COLONEL GRAND AND THE CLONKS IX IN THE LITTLE TRIANGULAR "SQUARE" X THE BLACK HEADLINES ILLUSTRATIONS His audience was fairly hanging on his words.. _Frontispiece_ "It is my money!" cried David Her lips parted in amazement, tremulously struggling into a smile of wonder and unbelief. "This is the one, great, solitary hour in your life." BOOK ONE CHAPTER I THE FUGITIVE The gaunt man led the way. At his heels, doggedly, came the two short ones, fagged, yet uncomplaining; all of them drenched to the skin by the chill rain that swirled through the Gap, down into the night-ridden valley below. Sky was never so black. Days of incessant storm had left it impenetrably overcast. These men trudged--or stumbled--along the slippery road which skirted the mountain's base. Soggy, unseen farm lands and gardens to their left, Stygian forests above and to their right. Ahead, the far-distant will-o-the-wisp flicker of many lights, blinking in the foggy shroud. Three or four miles lay between the sullen travelers and the town that cradled itself in the lower end of the valley. Night had stolen early upon the dour spring day. The tall man who led carried a rickety, ill-smelling lantern that sent its feeble rays no farther ahead than a dozen paces; it served best to reveal the face of the huge silver watch which frequently was drawn from its owner's coat pocket. Eight o'clock,--no more,--and yet it seemed to these men that they had plowed forever through the blackness of this evil night, through a hundred villainous shadows by unpointed paths. Mile after mile, they had traversed almost impassable roads, unwavering persistence in command of their strength, heavy stoicism their burden. Few were the words that had passed between them during all those weary miles. An occasional oath, muffled but impressive, fell from the lips of one or the other of those who followed close behind the silent, imperturbable leader. The tall man was as silent as the unspeakable night itself.