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“O Billy,” his mother laughed, “you need not decide to-night. Besides, it was all Bess’s nonsense. I can’t quite imagine my heedless boy in a pulpit.” “Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice. But not that night nor for days after did Billy look at his books. The second morning the fever was still present, and he told his mother he was “all over red goose flesh.”.

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He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not save her. Having disposed of the song, dear to her mother’s heart, in spite of the protestations of Moses, Betty went to the kitchen and in a few moments returned with a steaming pot of tea. “There’s a better way,” Billy called, when the deputy leading started to climb back as he had come. “Follow the creek; there’s a trail.” “Go and bring him now, so you can renovate his appearance before supper,” directed the mother..