Claire. No one could have told from his set, still face what his
thoughts were just then.

The last one who had seen O'mie was Marjie.

"I had left the door open so I could find the way better," she said. "At
the gate O'mie came running up. I thought he was a girl, for he had my
cloak around him and the hood over his head. His face was very white.

"I supposed it was just the light behind me, made it look so, for he
wasn't the least bit scared. He called to me twice. 'Don't hurry,' he
said; 'I'm taking your cloak home.' Mrs. Judson shut the door just then,
thinking I had gone on, and I ran home, but O'mie flew ahead of me. Just
before I came around the corner I heard a horse start up and dash off to
the river. I ran in to mother and shut the door."

"I met a horse down by the river as I ran to grandpa's after Bill. He
was staying over there last night." It was Dave Mead who spoke. "I made
a grab at the rein. I was crazy to think of such a thing, but--" Dave
didn't say why he tried to stop the horse, for that would mean to repeat
what Tell had told us, and we had to keep Tell's part to ourselves. "The
horse knocked me twenty feet and tore off toward the river."

And then for the first time we noticed Dave Mead's right arm in a sling.
Too much was asked of us in those hours for us to note the things that
mark our common days.

"It put my shoulder out of place," Dave said simply. "Didn't get it in
again for so long, it's pretty sore. I was too busy to think about it at
first."

Dave Mead never put his right hand to his head again. And to-day, if the
broad-shouldered, fine-looking American should meet you on the streets
of Hong Kong, he would offer you his left hand. For hours he forgot
himself to save others. It is his like that have filled Kansas and made
her story a record of heroism like to the story of no other State in all
the nation.

But as to O'mie we could find nothing. There was something strange and
unusual about his returning the borrowed cloak at that late hour. The
whole thing was so unlike O'mie.

"They've killed him and put him in the river," wailed Dollie Gentry.

"I'm afraid he's been foully dealt with. They suspected he knew too
much," and Dr. Hemingway bowed his head in sorrow.

"He's run straight into a coil of them pisen Copperheads an' they've
made way with him; an' to think we hadn't missed him," sobbed Cam in his
chair.

Father Le Claire gripped his hands, and his face grew as express