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It must have been hours past midnight when Billy’s chattering voice startled his mother. She had heard no bell; the boy himself stood by her bedside; she could see him dimly against the window. Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct, and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt. The old man peered over the steps, and Moses recognized the loose-jointed long-limbed individual who had provided him with such mirth on the previous day..

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Betty and Maria, whose reviving interest in the quilt had drawn them from their play to the somewhat crowded parlor, now reported several vehicles to be in sight. They hastened with this information to Mrs. Mifsud in the kitchen, that important domain whence a savory odor had been issuing for some time. With a boy’s cunning and swiftness Billy made a running creep through the underbrush up the steep mountain side. From a peephole higher up he stopped, breathless, and watched them beat the chaparral round about where he had stood; saw them go down into the road, look each way, turn and scan the mountain; and at last slink off, one to the house, the other to the vineyard. Bouncer tied? That red handkerchief! The boy went cold and pale. Before he looked he knew that May Nell was not there. He turned his white face to the others as they came up. Without further urging the child began to pick out with one finger a complicated melody which Mrs. Wopp assured the audience was “Dare to be a Daniel.”.