  At daybreak this morning, heavy detonations began to rend the air, and we knew that the road-blasting had begun. It was almost impossible to get the cottage cleaned,—the boys, especially Nucky, hung out of windows and doors, eagerly watching the puffs of smoke down the road, and listening for the loud reports. As we went over to breakfast, we could see Blant and the others at work. I noticed that Nucky ate not a bite, and was very pale,—I hoped that he was at last realizing it was his last day with me, and was feeling some of the pain I felt in the separation. We were all pouring out of the dining-room after the meal, when several sharp, near-by gun-shots, following a particularly loud blast of powder, sent all flying to the front. Up the steep mountain side facing the school a man was leaping, while down in the road below ran another, stopping only to aim and fire. "It's Blant!" called out a score of voices; "he's got away! Go it, Blant,—run, oh, run!" It was indeed Blant, making desperate speed up the steep slope. The mountain is cleared halfway, not a rock or a tree affording shelter; above that is the timber-line. All the school was by this time at the fence, breathlessly watching the breathless ascent. The keeper, selecting a vantage-ground just outside the school gate, took his stand and grimly proceeded to do his "whole duty," firing swiftly, calmly, surely, at the flying figure. In running accompaniment to the gun-shots, Nucky's voice rang out sharp and clear. "Keep to the right a little-grain!" "Drap down in the swag there, so's he can't hit you so easy!" "Make for them spruce-pines! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" Bullets raised tiny clouds of dust about Blant's feet, and on the slope just ahead of him; the seconds seemed ages; our hearts stood still. Once he stopped short, clutching his left arm; then ran on again, more swiftly than ever, his arm dangling strangely. Nucky's voice, edged with agony, faltered no more than did the bullets. "Can't you move no quicker'n that? Seems like I could crawl faster! Once you reach the timber, he'll never hit you! Oh, hurry! hurry! hurry! You're getting nigh now. The trees! the trees! the trees! Oh God, he's to 'em,—he's safe!" Nucky's voice rang out sharp and clear ... 'Make for them spruce pines! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!' And, indeed, he was. After a few parting shots into the timber, the keeper shook his head, mopped the sweat from his brow, shouldered his gun and turned to the other prisoners, who had followed him down the road, and to the rest of us. "Well," he said, "I done my best, as my oath required, though sore again' my will. But he had too good a start. It certainly was pyeert of him to get on the far side from me before that big blast went off; and it tuck me plumb by surprise. Of course I looked for him to try to escape at the first; but after he refused to use his gun to get away, I give up the notion, though I mind now he said plain he wa'n't willing to go to Frankfort. Well, I never done a more painful thing than try to kill him as he run for his life,—if he was my own brother I couldn't have felt worse—but public servants is called on to do mighty onnatural and disagreeable things sometimes. And now that I tried my best and failed, I am free to say I'm glad none of them bullets never hit no vital, and that it was his arm, not his heart, I put out of business. "Yes, I consider that 'ere Blant as perfect a gentleman as ever I seed; and I think it was a mighty sensible thing of him not to stay and stand trial and go to Frankfort. Why, Frankfort is intended for criminals, and God knows that boy haint got a criminal bone in him, and never did have. Of course his mistake was in ever givin' himself up when he kilt Rich and Todd,—that was the dad-burn foolishest thing ever I heared of, and come nigh being his ruination, and that of his family. "Well, I reckon he's making tracks for home and the babe now—God grant the pore little creetur'll live till he gits there—and I expect he will rest pretty oneasy for a few days, allowing me and the sheriff will be low-down enough to hunt him. Which knowing the law like we do, we haint got the least notion of,—one of the very pillars of the criminal law is that no man's life shall be twice in jeopardy for the same offense; and certainly Blant's life couldn't be worse jeoparded than it was by my gun this hour; and being as the law is satisfied, I am, and I may confidently say the sheriff will be. Yes, I allow that by next week Blant will be out in perfect peace, putting in his crap. I hate to think of his feelings over seeing his land in Cheever possession; but I'll lay my life he'll stand to his word not to shoot another shot, and that the Marrs-Cheever war is over." When I turned around a little later, Nucky, who had been at my side, was gone,—doubtless to see Blant safely home, and to take him the word of his immunity from capture. Saturday, Bed-time.To-night Nucky came back, more radiant and happy than I have ever seen him, to be greeted by the unanimous question, "How long has Blant been aiming to escape?" "Ever sence he heared he would be sent to Frankfort,—he never had no notion of going there. He has knowed all along the prisoners was going to work the road, and fixed on that as his best chance to get away. If he'd a-told me sooner, I'd have felt better,—but he never did till last Sunday. Then I felt happy again, though of course I was afeared Joe's gun might stop him. "But now he's home, and the babe's nigh dead with happiness, but aiming to live when she gits used to it, and paw is all holp up in his spirits, and the young uns has got their minds and stomachs comforted, and a big crap's a-going in immediate, and everything's all right." There was silence for quite a while; then Taulbee inquired, in a low voice, as one may speak of the dead, "Has the Cheevers got the bottom?" A wave of color surged over Nucky's face, and then receded, leaving him deathly pale. "Yes, they got it," he answered slowly, painfully, at last; "Blant sent 'em word he give it to 'em, and wisht he could give 'em back the lives he tuck, too." Another deep silence followed; then there was a still more searching question: "Do you aim to let 'em keep it when you git grown?" Nucky closed his eyes; his face was sharp and tense with the inward struggle; his breath came with difficulty. It was a long time before he spoke; then, "I allow I'll be the same kind of a hero Blant is," he replied. Easter Sunday.It is the season of new life. To-day the brown mountain sides are suddenly clothed with innumerable tender shades of green, and against them the exquisite "sarvice" tree, incomparable symbol of spiritual renascence, stands forth in unearthly beauty. It speaks to me not only of the awakening of Blant and Nucky to higher things, and of the coming day when from all hearts shall be cast out the "dread brood of Chaos and Old Night," pride, hatred and warfare, but of my own wonderful resurrection from grief, despair and selfishness to life and love and service. Now that I have Nucky back again, my joy is perfect, my cup overflows. To-day I have written my agent to accept one of the offers I have had for the old home,—the proceeds shall be used for sending my boys to college when the time comes. Henceforth my home is here,—here, where my once lonely and drifting barque is held in a fair harbor by twelve strong anchors. Lapped continually by warm tides of love and youth and joy. And my dearest hope is that the rest of my days may be spent Mothering on Perilous. The following pages contain advertisements of a few of the Macmillan books on kindred subjects A Woman Rice Planter By PATIENCE PENNINGTON. With an Introduction by Owen Wister and with nearly 100 illustrations by Alice R. Huger Smith. Decorated cloth, 8vo, preparing Here are detailed the actual experiences of a woman rice planter on her own account, as the manager of two large plantations in South Carolina. The book is all the more interesting and instructive because it is told in a charmingly simple manner, and without a trace of self-consciousness or self-assertion. Independently of the information it conveys it has attraction for every reader by reason of that manner and as a revelation of a feminine character in which are manifested tender susceptibility and womanly sympathy no less than rugged courage in assuming an arduous task and in overcoming heavy practical obstacles. The narrative of the planter's life with its many responsibilities, the risks, the vexations and the cares involved in her ventures, the sagacity, skill and indomitable persistency with which she pursued her way, make reading always interesting and frequently valuable for its insight into a remarkable Southern home. PUBLISHED BY A Kingdom of Two By HELEN R. ALBEE. Illustrated. Decorated cloth, 12mo, preparing "The Kingdom" is a country place of about two hundred acres and the "two" are the writer's husband and herself. Practical information for the homemaker and the gardener are happily blended in this book with sentiment and a pleasing vein of philosophical reflection. While the work is primarily one for lovers of the great outdoors, for Nature in its various moods is perhaps the central theme, it is much more than what is ordinarily termed a "nature volume." The story form, only half assumed, the charming personalities which are presented, their day to day lives, these all lend to it an added interest. PUBLISHED BY America as I Saw It By E. ALEC TWEEDIE. With illustrations. Decorated cloth, 8vo, preparing Many books have been written by people who have visited this country and have then returned to their native heath, but it is doubtful whether anyone has gone at the task with such an abundance of good humor as has the author of this sprightly volume. Mrs. Tweedie says things, to be sure, about America and Americans that will not be wholly acceptable, but she says them in such a way that even the most sensitive cannot take offense. In fact it is quite likely that her criticisms will provoke laughter as good humored in itself as the remarks which provoke it. There is hardly a spot on the broad continent that does not pass under Mrs. Tweedie's examination, and scarcely a person of importance. She finds much to praise openly, but amusing as it may seem, these praiseworthy factors are not those upon which we expect commendation. Our dinners, our clubs, our educational systems, our transportation facilities, our home life, our theatres, our books, our art, all are analyzed and Tweedie verdicts passed. Of course the book is to be taken seriously, but not too seriously. Mrs. Tweedie would be offended if we did not laugh at her cajolery; that is what she wrote it for. PUBLISHED BY THE "HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS" SERIES Highways and Byways from the St. Lawrence to Virginia By CLIFTON JOHNSON. With many illustrations made from photographs taken by the author. Tourist Edition. Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.30 net As in the case of the other volumes in this series Mr. Johnson deals here primarily with country life—especially that which is typical and picturesque. The author's trips have taken him to many characteristic and famous regions; but always both in text and pictures he has tried to show nature as it is and to convey some of the pleasure he experienced in his intimate acquaintances with the people. There are notes giving valuable information concerning automobile routes and other facts of interest to tourists in general. TOURIST EDITIONS OF THE "SOUTH" AND THE "PACIFIC COAST" Highways and Byways of the South By CLIFTON JOHNSON. Illustrated. Tourist Edition. Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.50 net Highways and Byways of the Pacific Coast By CLIFTON JOHNSON. Illustrated. Tourist Edition. Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1.50 net PUBLISHED BY
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