ng them. Long ago, so it seemed, he had
forecast the design and the method of its execution.

He saw another sight which he had not forecast. He saw
repentance--repentance, he saw surely; atonement, if within the reach of
time, and life, and sacrifice of life. He saw Repentance with bared
brow, with gray, drawn face, with glowing eyes that directed crashing
strokes of a shining axe, eating deep into a locking tree-trunk which
held back with its mass of crushed timbers and close-packed earth, the
seething waters of the weir. He saw it all, and his heart swelled and
pulsed and throbbed with the glory of it. He saw and felt the glory of
it, that lifts man above the beasts that raven, the angels who adore,
and places him at the side of God, the crowning labor of his mighty
hands.

But through the swelling, flaming glory that bathed the world with the
light of heaven, the earthborn instinct thrust; to save a human life
though repentance and atonement were laid low, and the light that they
radiated was quenched. Through the oily, sliding, deepening veil Ralph
dashed, shouting as he went--

"Come back! Come back! Elijah! Come back"!

But Repentance heeded not the call. Once again the shining blade bit
deep in the straining timber, and Atonement had gained its perfect work.

A crash like riving thunder drowned the swirl of falling water, and the
huddled mass of rock and earth and timber groaned and swelled and
thrust, and then, with a crash and roar, swept through the stone-paved
weir and plunged into the yawning canyon.

The blade had fallen from the bared hands; the gray, drawn face was
lifted to the heavens; but the grayness was gone. In its place was the
light that comes from but one source. Repentance was crowned with
atonement; but life had departed.

Not quite. From a boiling eddy, struggling, impatient to join the
swirling rush of turbid waters, pitying hands drew a torn, bruised body.
A rough, kind hand brushed earth-stained locks from the still face.

"My God! That sight would make a man of the devil!" This was the tribute
of a dormant soul cased in a toil-calloused body.

Ralph was bending low. The eyelids fluttered, then sprang open; but the
vision was not of this world. The lips trembled--

"Amy! Amy!" Then they closed forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Had a ball of fire, shot from the cloudless sky, smitten one of their
number to eternal silence, no greater, no more awesome hush could have
fall