bit. But who
could hope to outrun a hurricane? Twelve miles an hour against eighty! The
marquis heeded nothing. Not far behind, the road was but a slash of
fallen, writhing tree-tops. The sweat dropped from his face. He dared not
look behind.

They reached it--the lane, by the log bridge, running at right angles to
the road--and in a moment, behind them, that lane was choked with whirling
debris.

But in that moment they had cleared the track of the whirlwind. For the
first time Alice comprehended the conduct of the marquis. For the first
time he turned to see. A quarter of a mile each side the road the
hurricane had carried complete desolation. But after passing the heavy
timber it had veered several degrees, and was sparing the house of Mrs.
Ruggles.

With a white face she met them at the gate. A word of explanation from the
marquis--an ejaculation of mental anguish from the girl. Two fugitive
tie-choppers from the woods turned back to find the colonel's body. Mrs.
Ruggles, carrying Alice in her arms to the door--the yaller-headed
doll-baby that never washed a dish--did what she could to soothe her, but
did it as silently as possible.

Mrs. Ruggles intercepted the returning tie-choppers in the lane. A look of
eager joy was in their faces. The bruised colonel, assisted to the
threshold, sank into the big arm-chair, and Alice was in his arms. Mrs.
Ruggles did not see their meeting, not at all. No, her back was toward
them, but the corner of her apron made another journey to the corner of
her eye as the father folded his lost child once more to his heart.

His desire to express his gratitude to Mrs. Ruggles and her boy was
equaled only by her fears that he would do so. As a last resort he called
the marquis to him, and, while a tear stood on his rough cheek, drew a
handful of money from his pocket. But a bony hand appeared majestically
between them, and a voice said, "Not by no means. We're not them kind o'
persons. Markis-dee, put away the camfire."

Then a rickety gig rattled up to the gate: "Contusion--severe--no
danger--there!--be lame a while--so!--the other bandage--bridge
gone--creek half dry--bend your leg--so!--current turned up-stream--now
the shoulder--not strange Crawfish Creek should run backward--he! he!" And
the rickety gig rattled merrily off in search of broken bones.

Alice, meeting the marquis outside the door, approached him in a way that
made him tremble. What was said will never be known, bu