body relax and heard the faintest possible sigh.

When Burnett came forth unsuccessful but cheerful, her fingers were
toying with her curls, and she broke off her song, question him with her
eyes.

"There ain't a soul in there," laughed the man. "I might a'known Bishop
wasn't around here; in fact, I did know it the minute I looked at you,
kid. Now, just as a matter of law and order, I'll take a peep in the
garret and under the bed, and then I'm done ... Say, you got some voice,
ain't you, kid?"

"It can holler good and loud," grinned Tess.

"And you're some religious, I bet, according to the hymn you've been
singin'," went on the warden. "Now ain't you?"

Tess sobered instantly. She was always very careful not to be irreverent
about sacred things.

"You can bet your boots, I air some _awful_ religious," she acquisced
earnestly. "I've knowed about God and Jesus ever so long."

"That's nice," responded Burnett, becoming grave in his turn.

Oh, would he never go! Would he never finish?

When Burnett walked toward the ladder, she sighed dolefully.

"Does your foot hurt you, kid?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Nope," faltered Tess. "I guess I were a thinkin' what'd happen to the
little man when ye get 'im."

The warden was trying the strength of the ladder.

"Oh, I'll hike him back up state quicker'n scat when I get my fingers on
'im," said he, his head disappearing in the hole in the ceiling.

In less than thirty seconds he was down again and had taken a squint
under the bed.

"There isn't any dwarf under there either," he said, amusement in his
tones. He stretched forth his hand, reaching down to the girl on the
cot.

"Now, don't hold nothing against me, kiddie, for comin' here, will ye?
Just shake hands with a feller and say it's all right, eh?"

Tessibel lifted the owl high in the air and opened her fingers. There
was a small ghostly flutter and in another instant Deacon had
disappeared into the garret.

She gave the warden both her hands, and for the little minute Burnett
stood by the bed holding them in his and assuring her of his good will.
Tessibel sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Her little Andy, Daddy
Skinner's friend, was saved!

When Burnett reached the door, he looked back at her. The girl's lips
were parted in a brilliant, farewell smile. He whirled about and came
toward her again.

"Kid," he said huskily, "I'm a hard-headed old cuss, harder'n brass
tacks. I been made so by