at the reins that bound her; he saw his own white
handkerchief tied on the tree; but he could not see or hear Eleanor. He
would have liked to stop to find out that all was well with her, but he
dreaded to let Eleanor know that he had spent all this time and was
still without assistance. At the crossroads, where the young man had
made his original mistake in the roads, he at last turned down the lane
that led to the sulphur springs. But by this time his friends were well
on their way home to the Preston farm.

Eleanor's horse had grown weary of remaining standing. It was past her
supper time and she wished her measure of oats. The horse tossed her
head restlessly, walked forward a few steps and then backward, tugging
and straining at her bridle. In his excitement and hurry to be off,
Harry had not tied the horse very securely. He had no other hitching
rope than her bridle. The mare gave one final jerk and shake of her head
and was free. Quite innocent of the mischief her desertion would cause,
she trotted back to her own stable at the Prestons.

At nine o'clock in the evening rain began to fall. The night was pitch
dark, except for an occasional jagged flash of lightning. When Madge, in
advance of all the others, passed along only a few rods from the very
spot where Harry had left Eleanor the latter must have heard nothing,
for she made not the faintest outcry.

It was almost midnight before Eleanor's friends discovered that Harry
was not with her. Not finding any of the party at the sulphur springs,
Sears had lost his head completely. Instead of returning to poor Eleanor
he went on to the Preston farm, hoping stupidly that Nellie had in some
way been rescued and that he would find her there. The journey back home
was a long, weary one. His horse was completely fagged out and had gone
lame in one foot. Harry was terrified at the emptiness of the Preston
farm; only one or two servants were about; the others had gone with Mr.
Preston to look for Eleanor. There were no horses left on the place. So,
on foot, Harry set out again, only to have Eleanor's riderless horse
pass by him in the night. He hardly saw the animal in his excitement. He
did not dream that it was the horse he had hitched to mark Eleanor's
resting place, but plodded on, tired and dispirited.

Harry finally ran across Madge, Phyllis and Jack. He told them his story
as best he could. Foot by foot the young people retraced their way over
the same road, look