ng her pale lantern and calling for help,
or in other ways enticing unwary travelers to their death. Some had
been lured into the depths by her voice and had never returned.

It was in this drear, lonely place that the tramp had taken up his
abode. Just where a corduroy road, now abandoned and grass-grown,
passed out of the ravine and along the edge of the swamp, stood Sandy
McQuarry's old lumber shanty, and here Uncle Hughie Cameron and the
doctor had taken John McIntyre. Before it lay the swamp, and through
occasional gaps gleamed the still waters of the Drowned Lands.

As the visitors emerged from the valley there was a loud hallo from the
hill-top, and a small, limping figure came hurrying down the slope.
The little fellow perched upon Jake Sawyer's shoulder gave a squeal of
welcome, and Jake's face lit up.

"Hello, you, Tim!" called the big man cordially, as the youngster came
limping toward him, "what you been up to now?"

The boy glanced around the group and placed himself as far as possible
from Spectacle John. "Jist been fishin'," he remarked vaguely; "and
I'm goin' with you," he added, with that mixture of defiance and appeal
which the orphans had already learned was sure to move their
foster-parents.

"Ye'd better watch out! The banshee'll git ye," threatened Spectacle
John.

"Speakin' o' a banshee," put in the blacksmith, "when I was at Neeag'ra
Falls----" By the time the story was finished the company had come in
view of the old shanty.

The sick man was seated in the doorway. His figure had a despairing
droop, his eyes were fixed on the forest of dead tree-trunks. There
was something of a corresponding dreariness in his whole attitude, as
though the waters of tribulation had gone over his life and left it a
veritable Drowned Land, its hopes engulfed, its greenness dead.

The company fell silent as they passed through the bars that served as
a gateway and went up the slope to the shanty door. So absorbed was
the man in his reflections that he did not notice any one approaching
until the minister's foot struck a stone. He turned sharply and arose.

Mr. Scott had visited him twice as he lay in bed, and the man
recognized him with a brief word. But there was no cordiality in the
way he put out his hand to meet the minister's proffered one, and he
took no notice whatever of the others.

"Good-evening," said Mr. Scott pleasantly. "Some of the neighbors
thought they would like to drop in a