As Rebecca approached the gate, Mahala could see that she was covered with dust, that she looked more worn and tired than she ever had seen her. Whatever the thing might have been that inspired Rebecca’s endless search, it had this time led her to far counties over rough roads. There were times when she had been reported as having been seen beyond the confines of the state. Mahala, with the help of her foot, pushed wide the sagging gate, and with the best smile she could summon, held her hand to Rebecca. The lonely pilgrim on the long road paused and looked at her intently. She strode toward her and began her customary speech: “Behold the White Flag.” Mahala listened respectfully, the smile fading from her face. In her heart there was a passion of painful emotion. There were reasons as to why she folded her hands tightly over her aching heart and passed under the flag in a spirit of deep reverence. Then she pointed to the food on the stoop and asked Rebecca to come in, to sit down and rest, to share with her. Rebecca asked for water. They went back to the old well where the traveller manipulated the pump handle and Mahala, holding her cupped hands tightly together, caught the water and Rebecca drank from them. When she had quenched her thirst, Rebecca’s hands—slender, delicate hands—closed together over Mahala’s. Suddenly she bent her head and kissed the wet fingers she was holding. “‘Cold water in His name,’” she murmured. Mahala was deeply moved. She took one of Rebecca’s hands and started toward the front of the house. She noticed that Rebecca’s footsteps lagged, her eyes were searching everywhere. She withdrew her hand, and going to the back door, pushed it open and peered inside. After the words were spoken, Mahala was almost terrified to realize that she had asked: “Becky, what is it that you spend your life hunting?” Instantly, Rebecca’s figure grew rigid. Her face became a grayish white. The dark lights that Mahala feared gathered in her eyes; her lips began to tremble and her hands to shake. Terrified, Mahala again laid her hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Come,” she said soothingly, “come, and eat your food and then I’ll help you. We’ll search together.” Rebecca stood still. Now she was looking intently at Mahala. Then she leaned her head and whispered: “No one ever offered to help me before. It’s a secret. It’s a dreadful secret. Terrible things will happen if I tell. My soul will be eternally damned.” Mahala returned Rebecca’s steady look with eyes of frank honesty. “I wouldn’t tell your secret, Becky,” she said. “You will swear it?” cried Rebecca. “I will swear it,” repeated Mahala. Rebecca brought her lips close to Mahala’s ear and whispered three words. Mahala drew back, staring at her with pitiful eyes. “Oh, Becky!” she cried, “is _that_ what you search for? I will help you! Truly I will! Come, now, and have something to eat. You’re so tired.”