nfidence that he had thus gained.
He also came to the entrance and laid his kindly hand on the younger
man's shoulder, and there in the pale light of that cloudy fall
morning, standing in the cool, invigorating air, with the sound of
falling water in their ears, the two men made a compact, and the end
was this.

"Harry King, if you'll be my son, I'll be your father. My boy would be
about your age--if he lives,--but if he does, he has been taught to
look down on me--on the very thought of me." He cast a wistful glance
at the young man's face as he spoke. "From the time I held him in my
arms, a day-old baby, I've never seen him, and it may be he has never
heard of me. He was in good hands and was given over for good reasons,
to one who hated my name and my race--and me. For love of his mother I
did this. It was all I could do for her; I would have gone down into
the grave for her.

"I, too, have been a wanderer over the face of the earth. At first I
lived in India--in China--anywhere to be as far on the other side of
the earth from her grave and my boy, as I vowed I would, but I've kept
the memory of her sweet in my heart. You need not fear I'll ask again
for your name. Until you choose to give it I will respect your
wish,--and for the rest--speak of it when you must--but not before. I
have no more to ask. You've been well bred, as I said, and that's
enough for me. You're more than of age--I can see that--but it's my
opinion you need a father. Will you take me?"

The young man drew in his breath sharply through quivering lips, and
made answer with averted head: "Cain! Cain and the curse of Cain! Can
I allow another to share it?"

"Another shares it and you have no choice."

"I will be more than a son. Sons hurt their fathers and accept all
from them and give little. You lifted me out of the abyss and brought
me back to life. You took on yourself the burden laid on me, to save
those who trusted me, knowing nothing of my crime,--and now you drag
my very soul from hell. I will do more than be your son--I will give
you the life you saved. Who are you?"

Then the big man gave his name, making no reciprocal demand. What
mattered a name? It was the man, by whatever name, he wanted.

"I am an Irishman by birth, and my name is Larry Kildene. If you'll go
to a little county not so far from Dublin, but to the north, you'll
find my people."

He was looking away toward the top of the mountain as he spoke, and
was seeing his