“He can’t die!” she kept saying to herself, over and over. “He can’t die! It was God brought me here to save him, and he can’t die now!” The smoke and flames had burst up from the burning house, a beacon to all the country-side, and assistance was at hand ere long; strong hands and tender hearts; and presently two great wagons, bedded with straw to take conscious and unconscious alike to Schooley’s, whither already a swift rider had been dispatched to summon aid from Wadsworth. And at Wadsworth, too, it may well be believed that no time was lost. A special was got ready in a hurry; doctors and nurses summoned; and when the little cavalcade reached Schooley’s, the special was waiting there for it; and trained hands took over the work of relief. Trained hands which worked swiftly and surely, and presently Allan opened his eyes and looked up at Mamie and smiled at her. “Dear Mamie!” he murmured and closed his eyes and slept. And the overwrought girl, conscious for the first time of her utter fatigue, reeled and would have fallen had not a strong arm caught her and carried her to a cot. I have wondered often what force it was drew Mamie from her bed, that morning, with sure knowledge of Allan’s danger, and guided her to him along that rutted country road. The human mind is a strange and wonderful thing, with the seeming power of projecting itself through space, at times, and summoning loved ones or conveying a message to them. Science seems to admit so much—or, at least, hesitates to deny it, in face of the evidence. And I have sometimes thought that, as Allan fell through the swirling smoke down that flight of stairs in the old stone house, his last conscious thought of Mamie, that thought somehow flashed to her across the miles that lay between them—a C. Q. D. signal of distress, as it were, from him to her, on the wonderful wireless of the mind. At least, I have no other explanation—I only know it really happened just as I have told it here. * * * * * A great crowd was waiting when that special pulled in to Wadsworth—a crowd which cheered and cheered as Allan and Jack Welsh and Mamie were borne to the carriages which were in waiting; a crowd from which three women threw themselves upon the conductor and brakemen, weak but smiling; a crowd which cursed the idiot and would have torn him from his cot and committed I know not what violence but for the platoon of police, assisted by Stanley’s specials, with Stanley himself, saturnine yet smiling, at the head of them. For Stanley had returned and with him three prisoners and a wagon load of the richest silks ever shipped over an American railroad. For the whole thing had been a case of robbery, after all, just as Stanley had suspected.