before long she heard Jessie's voice rise wrathful.

"Indeed, I'll do no such thing. This is no time to come to the
minister's house."

For answer there was a mumble of words.

"Well, then, you can just wait until morning. She can go in the
morning."

"What is it, Jessie?" The minister's wife came into the kitchen.

"Oh, Ranald, I'm glad to see you back. Hughie told me you had come. But
your father is ill, he said. How is he?"

Ranald shook hands shyly, feeling much ashamed under Jessie's sharp
reproof.

"Indeed, it was Aunt Kirsty that sent me," said Ranald, apologetically.

"Then she ought to have known better," said Jessie, sharply.

"Never mind, Jessie. Ranald, tell me about your father."

"He is very bad indeed, and my aunt is afraid that--" The boy's lip
trembled. Then he went on: "And she thought perhaps you might have some
medicine, and--"

"But what is the matter, Ranald?"

"He was hurted bad--and he is not right wise in his head."

"But how was he hurt?"

Ranald hesitated.

"I was not there--I am thinking it was something that struck him."

"Ah, a tree! But where did the tree strike him?"

"Here," pointing to his breast; "and it is sore in his breathing."

"Well, Ranald, if you put the saddle on Pony, I shall be ready in a
minute."

Jessie was indignant.

"You will not stir a foot this night. You will send some medicine, and
then you can go in the morning."

But the minister's wife heeded her not.

"You are not walking, Ranald?"

"No, I have the colt."

"Oh, that's splendid. We'll have a fine gallop--that is, if the moon is
up."

"Yes, it is just coming up," said Ranald, hurrying away to the stable
that he might escape Jessie's wrath and get the pony ready.

It was no unusual thing for the minister and his wife to be called upon
to do duty for doctor and nurse. The doctor was twenty miles away. So
Mrs. Murray got into her riding-habit, threw her knitted hood over her
head, put some simple medicines into her hand-bag, and in ten minutes
was waiting for Ranald at the door.

CHAPTER IV

THE RIDE FOR LIFE

The night was clear, with a touch of frost in the air, yet with the
feeling in it of approaching spring. A dim light fell over the forest
from the half-moon and the stars, and seemed to fill up the little
clearing in which the manse stood, with a weird and mysterious radiance.
Far away in the forest the long-drawn howl of a wolf rose and fell, and
in a moment sharp a