ilway station for his train. Nothing
pleased him. He responded to nothing.

Graham controlled his indignation by a constant effort. A dozen times he
was on the point of speaking out. But he restrained himself and played
fair. Dorothy's suffering could not be hidden. Her loyalty was strained
to the breaking point. She was too tender and true for anger, but she
was wounded almost beyond endurance.

Keene's restlessness increased. The intervening Thursday was
Thanksgiving Day; most of the boys had gone home; the school had
holiday. Early in the morning he came to me.

"Let us take our walk to-day. We have no work to do. Come! In this
clear, frosty air, Spy Rock will be glorious!"

"No," I answered, "this is no day for such an expedition. This is the
home day. Stay here and be happy with us all. You owe this to love and
friendship. You owe it to Dorothy Ward."

"Owe it?" said he. "Speaking of debts, I think each man is his own
preferred creditor. But of course you can do as you like about to-day.
Tomorrow or Saturday will answer just as well for our third walk
together."

About noon he came down from his room and went to the piano, where
Dorothy was sitting. They talked together in low tones. Then she stood
up, with pale face and wide-open eyes. She laid her hand on his arm.

"Do not go, Edward. For the last time I beg you to stay with us to-day."

He lifted her hand and held it for an instant. Then he bowed, and let it
fall.

"You will excuse me, Dorothy, I am sure. I feel the need of exercise.
Absolutely I must go; good-by--until the evening."

The hours of that day passed heavily for all of us. There was a sense of
disaster in the air. Something irretrievable had fallen from our circle.
But no one dared to name it. Night closed in upon the house with a
changing sky. All the stars were hidden. The wind whimpered and then
shouted. The rain swept down in spiteful volleys, deepening at last into
a fierce, steady discharge. Nine o'clock, ten o'clock passed, and Keene
did not return. By midnight we were certain that some accident had
befallen him.

It was impossible to go up into the mountains in that pitch-darkness
of furious tempest. But we could send down to the village for men to
organise a search-party and to bring the doctor. At daybreak we set
out--some of the men going with the Master along Black Brook, others in
different directions to make sure of a complete search--Graham and
the doctor and I following