nstant's dazed astonishment, comprehended the scene. His first impulse,
which he would have acted upon a few weeks since, was to steal away
undetected; his second, born of his own sadness to-night, was to stay
and help the poor fellow, if he could. He took a step forward, and spoke
softly,

"Dan!"

The boy sat up with a sudden jerk, and gazed at him, wide-eyed, white as
the froth in the stream's eddies.

"Will!" he whispered. "Have you come at last?"

"No, no, Dan! It's I, Dalton. I just happened here, or possibly I was
sent. How do we know, but Will directed me here? My poor boy, let me sit
beside you and tell you something. May I?"

Dan bowed his head respectfully, as he muttered,

"Oh, the boss!"

"Listen, Dan. I know how this tragic death of your brother's has preyed
upon you, and cut you off from your friends. But can't you see, in the
light of poor Nate's similar experience, how little you are blamed--how,
instead, you are sympathized with? Have you heard a word from the boys,
except pity for him? It was a terrible accident in both cases, and worse
in yours, but neither you nor Nate can be blamed."

"But they've got him shut up."

"Until the matter can be tried, yes. I haven't a doubt of his acquittal,
though, and it's better for Nate to be tried and acquitted, than to have
the affair left in doubt."

"I almost wish they'd tried me."

"Why, Dan, there was never even a charge against you. Everybody, from
the coroner out, knew it was an accident. And Dan, I'm going to say one
thing more. Your brother was not engaged to Rachel Hemphill. I _know_
that!"

Dan started.

"How?" he whispered huskily.

"From his own lips. It was only a few days before he--went. I came upon
them talking together, and Will, saying good-by to her, turned and
joined me, to ask some question, or other. I liked him well, as you
know, and began guying him a little about Rachel; and what do you think
he said?"

"What?"

"He laughed out in his happy way, and looked me in the face with dancing
eyes. 'Why, don't you know--but of course you don't,' he said, 'for I
found it all out by accident, myself. Rache isn't the girl to give
herself away, and you mustn't let on if I tell you.' I promised good
faith and he bent over and said, low and gently, 'I'm awfully fond of
Rache, but not that way. It's for a sister I want her, and perhaps I'll
have her, too. For I've found out she's gone on Dan--dear old Dan! Isn't
that too good to be