"You are the first human being in whose society I have taken pleasure for years. Deeply injured by man, I conceived a hatred for the whole race. But in your frank face I see much to like. I think I could trust you."

"I hope so," said Herbert.

"You have inspired in me a new feeling, for which I cannot account.

Yesterday the world had no attractions for me. To-day I feel an interest in your welfare, at least."

"Why do you bury yourself in this lonely place?" said Herbert. "You cannot be happy in it. Come with me to New York. It must be a beautiful place."

Ralph smiled gravely.

"To the young the world seems bright," he said. "It is after years have swept away one illusion after another, after faith in one's fellowmen has been sorely tried, and the hollowness of the world's friendship has been proved, that the brightness fades."

"You have seen more of life than I," said Herbert, "and perhaps it is presumption in me to question what you say; but I cannot help feeling that you are mistaken. I am sure that there is such a thing as true friendship."

"How many true friends are you blessed with?" asked Ralph, a little sarcasm in his tone.

"Not many, perhaps, but some. There is good Dr. Kent and his family. I am sure of their friendship. Then," he added, his color slightly rising, "I think I have found another friend," and he looked in the face of his guide.

The grave face softened.

"Thank you, my lad," said Ralph. "You are right there, at least. You can rely upon my friendship being sincere."

"Then I am right, am I not?" said Herbert, smiling brightly.

"I believe you are," said the guide, after a pause, "and I thank you for teaching me a lesson."

"Man was made in the image of G.o.d," said Herbert. "If we doubt man, I think it is the same as doubting G.o.d."

Ralph did not reply, but walked on in thoughtful silence.

"How far is it to Vernon?" asked Herbert, when they had emerged from the woods.

"It is five miles farther. Can you walk so far?"

"Oh, yes; I have good stout legs. But suppose Mr. Holden should escape.

He might pursue us."

Ralph smiled.

"I think I shall find him in the same place when I return," he said.

"He will be very angry with you."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Ralph, indifferently.

"Are you not afraid he will have you arrested?"

"No, I care little. If I am fined, I will pay the fine, and that will be the end of it."

"But you might be imprisoned?"

"If I see any danger of that, I shall be tempted to charge Abner Holden with his attempt upon your life. Don't make yourself anxious about me, my lad. I have little fear of what the law may do as far as my agency in this affair is concerned."

Ralph seemed so entirely unconcerned that something of his confidence was imparted to Herbert. Noting the erect mien and fearless glance of his guide, every movement betokening strength, he could not help feeling that Abner Holden would be rash to make such a man his enemy. He felt safe in his protection, and his apprehensions of capture pa.s.sed away. So with lightened heart he walked the five dusty miles to the village of Vernon, accompanied by Ralph.

It was a thrifty village, with neat and tasteful dwellings lining the princ.i.p.al street. The railroad and manufactories had built it up rapidly and given it an air of prosperity which was pleasant to see.

"We will go at once to the railway station," said Ralph. "You may catch the next train, and it will be as well to leave this neighborhood as soon as possible."

They were fortunate enough to reach the station fifteen minutes before the eastern train departed.

Herbert bought a ticket for Columbus, fifty miles distant, and entered the train.

"Good-by, Herbert," said Ralph, from the platform.

"Good-by," said Herbert. "Thank you for all your kindness to me. Shall I not see you again?"

"I do not know," said Ralph, musing. "I have no wish nor intention of going to New York at present, yet I have a feeling that we shall meet again."

"I hope it may be so," said Herbert. "I shall be glad to see you again."

While he spoke the shrill sound of the railway whistle was heard, the train started, and Herbert was fairly off on his journey.

Just as he was leaving the depot, a wagon drove hastily up to the station, and Abner Holden jumped out. Herbert saw him as he looked from the window, and for a moment he was apprehensive, but the train was fairly on the way.

"Stop! stop!" vociferated Abner. "Stop, I say!" for he had also caught sight of his bound boy on the way to freedom.

"You don't think they will stop the train for you, you fool!" said a man standing by. "You ought to have come sooner if you wanted to go by this train."

"I don't want to go by it," said Abner.

"What do you want, then?"

"My boy's run away, and I have just seen him aboard the train."

"Oh, that's it, is it? Your son?"

"No, I hope not. It's a young rascal that's bound to me."

"If he's a young rascal, I shouldn't think you'd want him back."

Turning away, for he saw that he had failed, his glance rested on Ralph.

Instantly his anger rose.

"It's your doings," said he, shaking his fist in impotent wrath at the st.u.r.dy hunter, whom he would have attacked had he dared. "It's your fault, and you shall pay for it if there's law in the land."

"What will the law say to your attempt to shoot the boy?" demanded Ralph, coolly.