Mr. Wilson glanced over the document, as Joe at length put it in Jessie's hand. "That's all right," he said, in his hearty, re-assuring way. "You've got it all as straight as a string, Joe"--which he had not, so far as mechanical execution went--"we'll have no trouble now. Put that away safely, Jessie, and let's be going." "Shall we take the Bible now?" Jessie asked, after she had complied with his directions. "Oh, no; time enough for that when Joe comes down. Put on a warm bonnet and shawl, now," he continued, "for the nights are chilly." In the days of his youth women and girls wore bonnets and shawls, and I never knew him to refer to their cloaks or headgear in any other terms. Jessie assured him that she was well protected, and Joe and I followed her and her sturdy escort out to the gate. "Had Leslie better come down with the others to-morrow?" Jessie inquired after they were seated in the cart, and while Joe was tucking the lap robe around her feet. "Oh, no! By no means. It isn't necessary, and her being here will enable us to swear that the house hasn't been vacant, day or night, since the claim was first filed on, and ain't vacant even at the present minute. We can't be too careful, you know. Good night to you both!" He spoke to the colt; Jessie echoed his good night, and they were gone. CHAPTER XXIII ALONE ON THE CLAIM Joe glanced at the clock as we re-entered the house, after the cart had disappeared down the road. "Now, if yo' gits right to bed, Leslie, chile, yo's gwine git right sma'ht ob sleep afore yo' has to git up ter holp me git stahted," he said. It was past one o'clock. "I don't know, Joe," I returned. "It seems hardly worth while to try to sleep at all; we must get up so soon." "Hit's wuf while ter git sleep w'enebber, an' wharebber yo' kin," the old man insisted, with the wisdom of experience. Accordingly, I lay down on my bed without taking the trouble to undress--I was so fearful of oversleeping. For a long time I lay thinking of Jessie, on her hurried night ride, of old Joe, and the blessed relief that his coming had brought us, and, above all, of Mr. Horton and his machinations. I meant to be awake when the hour that Joe had suggested for rising struck. The hour was five o'clock, but it was well past, when a gentle tap on the door awoke me, and Joe's voice announced: "Hit's done struck fibe, Miss Leslie; yo's bettah be stirrin." My reply was forestalled by a delighted cry from the crib, where Ralph was supposed to lie asleep: "Oho! Mine Joe is tum 'ome! Mine Joe is tum 'ome!"