om her. They came in bursting sobs, a
succession of rending throes that she struggled to stifle, swaying and
quivering under their stress.

He thought of nothing now but this new pain added to the hour's
tragedy, and stroked her shoulder with a low "Keep quiet--keep quiet,"
then leaned his face against her hair and breathed through its tangles.

"It's all right, I'll do it. I'll say I couldn't find anyone. I'll
lie for you, Missy."

She released him at once, dropped back a step and, lifting a distorted
face, gave a nod. He passed on, and she fell on the grass, close to
the tent ropes and lay there, hidden by the darkness.

She did not hear a step approaching from the herded tents. Had she
been listening it would have been hard to discern, for the feet were
moccasin shod, falling noiseless on the muffling grass. A man's figure
with fringes wavering along its outline came round the tent wall. The
head was thrust forward, the ear alert for voices. Faring softly his
foot struck her and he bent, stretching down a feeling hand. It
touched her shoulder, slipped along her side, and gripped at her arm.
"What's the matter?" came a deep voice, and feeling the pull on her arm
she got to her knees with a strangled whisper for silence. When the
light fell across her, he gave a smothered cry, jerked her to her feet
and thrust his hand into her hair, drawing her head back till her face
was uplifted to his.

There was no one to see, and he let his eyes feed full upon it, a thief
with the coveted treasure in his hands. She seemed unconscious of him,
a broken thing without sense or volition, till a stir came from the
tent. Then he felt her resist his grasp. She put a hand on his breast
and pressed herself back from him.

"Hush," she breathed. "Daddy John's in there."

A shadow ran up the canvas wall, bobbing on it, huge and wavering. She
turned her head toward it, the tears on her cheeks glazed by the light.
He watched her with widened nostrils and immovable eyes. In the mutual
suspension of action that held them he could feel her heart beating.

"Well?" came the doctor's voice.

The old servant answered:

"There weren't no parsons anywhere, I've been all over and there's not
one."

"Parsons?" Courant breathed.

She drew in the fingers spread on his breast with a clawing movement
and emitted an inarticulate sound that meant "Hush."

"Not a clergyman or missionary among all these people?"

"Not one."

"W