d
kindled had quickly gone out, thus saving the young man from being
burned to death. He told him, too, why death had not come to him through
starvation, as had been intended, and that it had taken him all that
time to force apart the links of the chain, when he found that there was
no one to hear or prevent, no matter how much noise he made in so doing.

He had seen the revolver, which had been forgotten, and little imagining
it would be of such vital use, had thrust it in his pocket and started
forth to make his way back to New York, when he unexpectedly came upon
the scene of the bear under the tree, and a fellow-being in deadly
peril.

"You saved me--me," cried Halloran, huskily, "your deadly foe, who
tried to rob you of your life."

"It was my duty, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,'" quoted Lester,
quietly.

Halloran fell on his knees, covering the other's hands with passionate
kisses, tears falling like rain from his eyes.

"From this hour the life that you have saved shall be devoted to
you--and God!" he cried brokenly. "Oh, will Heaven ever forgive me for
the past? There are two bullets left in the revolver; you ought to shoot
me dead at your feet, Lester Armstrong. I deserve it."

Lester shook his head.

"Do better with your life than you have done in the past," he said.

Halloran tried to rise to his feet, but fell back exhausted on the snow.

"I cannot walk," he gasped. "I--I am sure my limbs are frozen."

With a humane kindness that won him Halloran's gratitude to his dying
day, Lester helped him to the railway station, and to board the incoming
train, taking him to a hospital when they reached New York City.

Halloran had lapsed into unconsciousness, but Lester was too kind of
heart to desert him in his hour of need.

The clock was striking five as Lester left the hospital.

On the pavement he paused, asking himself if he could go to a hotel
presenting that soiled, unkempt appearance. Then like an inspiration it
occurred to him that the best place in the world to go to was Mr.
Conway's; and he put the thought into execution at once, reaching there
nearly an hour later.

Mr. Conway and Margery were just sitting down to breakfast as he rang
the bell of the humble little cottage.

Mr. Conway answered the summons.

The scene which followed can better be imagined than described.

It was hard to convince father and daughter, at first, that in telling
his story he was not attempting to play