“Wall, darn my skin!” cried Maybee, wiping his own eyes in sympathy with the weeping woman, “here’s me, wyounded an’ dyin’, been a stranger an’ a pilgrim in hos-tile parts fer months, an’ when I git home the wife of my bosom ain’t no eyes fer me nor tears nuther--everybody else is fus’. I call all you boys to witness my treatment; I enter a suit for devorce at once. Ma’ Jane, I’m goin’ ter leave your bed an’ board.” “You ain’t no call to be jealous, Maybee, as you well know. Ef you’re sick, I’ll nuss you; ef you’re hungry, I’ll feed you.” Then these pilgrims of the dusty roads received a royal welcome from the bewildered woman. Their brown hands were shaken, their torn clothes embraced, their sunburnt faces kissed with a rapture that was amazing. “Come in, everybody. ’Tavius, git a move on with them hosses and things! Vinnie, stop your grinnin’ an’ hustle with the dinner.” Mrs. Maybee expanded, metaphorically,--literal expansion would have jammed her in the doorway,--on hospitable cares intent. ’Tavius marched away grinning, while Mrs. Maybee ushered her guests into the house. How long seemed the time to Winona and Judah since they had been torn from that kindly shelter by the slave-hunters; terrible, indeed, had been the times that followed so swiftly. After the travelers were somewhat rested and refreshed, the story of their adventures was rehearsed, and the stranger one of the wrongs and sorrows of White Eagle and his true name and position in the world was told to an interested crowd of listeners, for the news of Maybee’s arrival with Winona and Judah had been industriously circulated by ’Tavius as soon as he could steal away from his duties, and a crowd of leading citizens filled the office, hall and piazza, anxious to see the wanderers and hear the miraculous story of their escape. “Now, Ma’ Jane, you remember the papers I gave you--White Eagle’s paper’s?” “Of course.” “I want you to fetch ’em out and give ’em to the child before us all. Then Mr. Lawyer Maxwell will see ef they is all correc’.” Mrs. Maybee brought a long tin box and placed it in her husband’s hand. He opened it. “Let’s see. Three legal dockymen’s and a few pieces of jewelry. Them’s ’em, I reckon. There you, my girl,” he said, tenderly, as he handed the package to Winona. Her attitude was at once tragic and pathetic as she drew back, for one instant, and stood in silent self-repression. A dizziness swept over her. What would the papers reveal? Their contents meant life or death to her hopes. She took the papers without speaking and passed them on to Warren almost mechanically. “Read them--I cannot.” “Right, child,” said Maybee.