There was more--much more: tales of brave rescues, and stories of children restored to frantically outstretched arms; but Margaret did not hear. With terror-glazed eyes and numbed senses she shrank back from the crowd, clasping and unclasping her hands in helpless misery. There Ned found her. "Margaret, you! and here? No, no, you must not. You can do no good. Let me take you home, do, dear," he implored. Margaret shook her head. "Ned, he can't be dead--not dead!" she moaned. Ned's face grew white. For an instant he was almost angry with the girl who had so plainly shown that to her there was but one man that had gone down into the shadow of death. Then his eyes softened. After all, it was natural, perhaps, that she should think of her lover, and of him only, in this first agonized moment. "Margaret, dear, come home," he pleaded. "Ned, he isn't dead--not dead," moaned the girl again. "Why don't you tell me he isn't dead?" Ned shuddered. His eyes turned toward the blackened, blazing pile before him--as if a man could be there, and live! Margaret followed his gaze and understood. "But he--he may not have gone in again, Ned. He may not have gone in again," she cried feverishly. "He--he is out here somewhere. We will find him. Come! Come--we must find him!" And she tugged at his arm. Ned caught at the straw. "No, no, not you--you could do nothing here; but I'll go," he said. "And I'll promise to bring you the very first word that I can. Come, now you'll go home, surely!" Margaret gazed about her. Everywhere were men, confusion, smoke and water. The fire was clearly under control, and the flames were fast hissing into silence. Over in the east the sun was rising. A new day had begun, a day of---- She suddenly remembered the sufferers back at the Mill House. She turned about sharply. "Yes, I'll go," she choked. "I'll go back to the Mill House. I _can_ do something there, and I can't do anything here. But, Ned, you will bring me word--soon; won't you?--soon!" And before Ned could attempt to follow her, she had turned and was lost in the crowd. CHAPTER XXXVIII Tuesday was a day that was not soon forgotten at the mills. Scarcely waiting for the smoking timbers to cool, swarms of workmen attacked the ruins and attempted to clear their way to the point where Spencer and McGinnis had last been seen. Fortunately, that portion of the building had only been touched by the fire, and it was evident that the floors and roof had been carried down with the fall of those nearest to it. For this reason there was the more hope of finding the bodies unharmed by fire--perhaps, even, of finding a spark of life in one or both of them. This last hope, however, was sorrowfully abandoned when hour after hour passed with no sign of the missing men.