Sitting on the porch late that afternoon, Professor Young heard from Tess of the coming of Sandy Letts.

"And, Uncle Forrie," she continued. "I can't understand why he went away so quickly."

"Perhaps he thought I was around somewhere."

"Perhaps," meditated Tess. "But I don't think so. You see, Andy was looking out of the window. Oh, dear, I've told him not to, but he's always trying to see what Boy's doing. You don't think Sandy saw him, do you?"

The unpleasant consequences of Andy's discovery rushed through the lawyer's mind. To be sure, he'd lived with this possibility ever since he'd brought the squatters from the shack, but the lapse of time had developed a sense of security which the girl's question rudely shattered.

"I hope not. What time did you say that Letts was here?"

"About dinner time," said Tess.

"Well, now it's after five. If he'd seen him, they'd have been back before this. What does Bishop think about it?"

"Oh, Andy's quite sure Sandy didn't see him, ..." Tess explained, shaking her head.

"Anyhow, it's no use to worry, honey," smiled Young.

The next morning three men in a wagon passed the Kennedy farm. Ebenezer Waldstricker was driving and beside him sat Lysander Letts. Alone on the back seat sprawled the big sheriff, a half-smoked cigar between his teeth.

When they reached Young's barn, they left their rig and walked quietly toward the house.

"You don't want to give 'em any chance to get the dwarf out of the way, sir," said the sheriff. "We'd better get in without their knowing we're here."

"Yes," agreed Waldstricker.

They'd rounded the porch and were in the living room before Deforrest Young and Tessibel Skinner were aware of their coming. The officer held a revolver in his hand. Leering triumphantly, Waldstricker spoke to Young.

"We want Andy Bishop."

The lawyer turned to the sheriff.

"Put up your gun, Brown, you won't need it," he ejaculated. "Here, child," to Tessibel, who had risen from her chair and started for the stairs. "Wait a minute. Sit down."

Tess sank into a chair, white-lipped and silent.

"I suppose there's no use trying to hide him any longer?" continued Deforrest, turning back to the officer.

"No, I reckon not, Mr. Young.... Where's the dwarf, Professor?"

"Upstairs. I'll call him," replied the lawyer.... Then glancing at the girl, "You go and get him, Tess."

"Let me git 'im, sheriff," Sandy thrust in. "I'd like the job, sir. Eh?"

"Mebbe I better myself. It's my duty to take him."

Tess smiled at the speaker and getting up moved a step toward him.

"Let me bring 'im, sir," she entreated. "I'll get 'im. Please let me!"

Charmed by her beauty and the sweetness of her voice, the sheriff glanced doubtfully from the frowning elder to the lawyer.

"Mebbe it isn't quite regular, but if Mr. Young says it'll be alright, I'm willing," he decided finally.

Young nodded, and Tess rose and started toward the stairs. Passing Sandy and Waldstricker, she had to draw aside her skirts to avoid touching them.

The dwarf, seated on the floor beside Boy, was mending a train of cars when Tessibel's white face appeared at the door.

"Andy," she said, trying to speak calmly. "Remember about the hands stronger'n Waldstricker's? Nobody can hurt you. But—but—"

At her hesitation the little man scrambled to his feet. He'd heard men's voices from the room below but had paid no particular attention. Now, he knew the long-dreaded calamity'd happened. He looked pitifully up at the speaker.

"They've come for me?" he gasped.

"Yes, dear, and you must go. But remember all the time, God's hands're stronger'n Waldstricker's," repeated Tess. "Nothing can hurt you.... Come, dear."

A few moments later, the three of them entered the living room, but stopped short at the sound of the elder's angry voice.

"I'll send you and your squatter woman to Auburn with him, if you don't look out," he said.

"Do what you please," snapped the lawyer.

Holding the dwarf's hand, Tess went directly to the sheriff.

"Here's Andy, sir," she faltered. "Be awful kind to him, please, sir. He's so little!"

Still dry-eyed and showing a quiet dignity, she stepped to Young's side while the sheriff adjusted the handcuffs to himself and to Andy and led him out into the sunshine.

At the door, Waldstricker allowed Letts to precede him, then turned.

Shaking his fist, he threatened, "I'll get you two, next."

"Very well," Young answered. "Do anything you like, only get out ... now."

The sound of retreating footsteps had hardly died away when Tess dropped into a chair and began to cry, the baby wailing in sympathy. Deforrest put his hands on her shoulders.

"There, there, Tess, you musn't do that! Dress yourself and Boy quickly. We're going to Auburn, too."

The gates of Auburn Prison swung slowly back and admitted a party of six people and, clanging, closed together again. Large-eyed with wonder, Boy clung to Professor Young's right hand, at whose other side walked Tessibel Skinner. In front of them between two officers was little Andy. Once, Tess caught his eyes and smiled at him. Both were certain that somewhere up and beyond were the hands stronger'n Waldstricker's, but they'd hoped those pitying hands would have lifted them up before this. Still they clung to their faith and all the long ride from Ithaca had bolstered each other up with wan smiles and comforting promises.

The business in the warden's office was simple and quickly dispatched. Once in the room, Andy was permitted to stand with his friends. The officers made their report and the clerk wrote some entries in his books and gave them a receipt. Then, he rang a bell.

Professor Young was talking to the warden when a guard came through the iron door from the interior of the prison.

"Take Bishop in," the clerk directed briefly, without looking up from his books.

Andy turned to Professor Young, took his hand and tried to stammer out some words of gratitude.

"There, there, old man, brace up!" said the lawyer, patting him on the shoulder. "Hope it won't be for long!... Here, Boy, say good-bye to Andy."

Troubled, the baby clung to his friend.

"I don't want Andy to go. I want 'im to come home," insisted the child.

Kissing the little fellow passionately, the dwarf gave him to Deforrest and turned to Tessibel. She took his hands firmly in her strong ones and looked earnestly into his face.

"Remember the hands stronger'n Waldstricker's," she whispered. "They'll bring you right back home, dear. They did Daddy Skinner, Andy, darling."

Shaken by suppressed emotion, the little man sank to the floor.

"Oh, God help me to come back to ye!" he moaned dully.... "God help me!"

A moment, Tess fought the uprushing tears.

"You are coming back, Andy, remember that," she said quickly. Then, she lifted her friend to his feet and kissed him.

"Here, sir," she said to the officer, "take him!"

Infected by Tessibel's faith, Andy ceased to weep. He flashed a last loving glance at her and the boy, and preceded the guard through the iron door into the prison.

Some time later, after what seemed an eternity of waiting, the warden came to Professor Young.

"The lady can see Bennet now," he said.

Silently, an attendant conducted Tessibel through the long stone corridors to the prison hospital.

As she passed, eager eyes watched her from the rows of cots against the wall. She was piloted to a bed near the end of the room.

"Here's your company, Bennet," said the officer.

The figure on the bed turned and pain-ridden eyes peered up. Tess felt her throat throb with sympathy.

"What do ye want, miss?" growled a weak voice.

Tess smiled and bent over the bed. "I want to talk to you," she said. "May I?"

Bennet's face softened immediately. He thought a beautiful angel had dropped from Heaven to the side of his prison bed.

"Yep," he whispered, blinking at her. "There air somethin' under the bed to set on, ma'am."

Drawing forth a stool, Tess raised the lowered back and sat down.

In the presence of such misery, she had almost forgotten her little friend in the cell outside. Just then, she wanted to comfort Owen Bennet, to say something which would take away that writhing expression of suffering.

"You're very sick," she murmured. "Poor man, I'm sorry!"

Bennet kept his watery eyes on the pleading young face.

"Yep, I'm sick enough," he muttered.

"What can I do for you?" asked Tess. "Can't I do anything to make you feel easier?"

"Nope," was the answer. "I'll be dead, soon. Mebbe, I'll get out time nuff to die."

Then, Tessibel did forget Andy. And, even, Deforrest and the baby left her mind. She stretched forth her hand and touched the man's arm.

"Would you like me to sing to you, a little?"

Bennet bobbed his head.

"I like singin'," he mumbled.

In a low voice, Tessibel began to sing; nor did she take her hand from the thin arm lying inertly on the sheet.

"Rescue the Perishin';
Care for the Dyin'."

came forth like the chanting of the chimes.

When the words, "Jesus is merciful," followed, Bennet put up his hand and touched the girl's fingers. Tessibel closed her own over his. There was no thought then of her errand, no remembrance that the man before her was a murderer and had sworn his crime on little Andy.

"Jesus is merciful, Jesus is kind," sang Tess, and Bennet began to cry in low sobs that made the singer finish her song in tears.

"Oh, He is kind," she whispered. "He is merciful. Won't you believe that?"

"Sing it again," entreated Bennet, huskily.... "Sing it again, will ye?"

Tess scarcely heard the words they were so low, so sobbingly spoken. She cleared the tears from her voice, and "Rescue the Perishin'," and "Jesus is kind," echoed once more through the long room. From here and there, suppressed weeping came to the girl's ear; but she did not turn to look at the weepers. Here, before her, was a man who was watching as Daddy Skinner had watched the slowly opening gates of eternal life, through which he must pass, alone and afraid. Ah, if she could make him less so! If she could give him a little faith to grope on and on and up and up into the freedom of the life beyond.

Bennet's hand was clasped in Tessibel's; the other covered his eyes.

Suddenly, he dropped his fingers.

"Ye say he's kind?" he gasped. "Jesus air kind, ye say?"

"Yes, yes," breathed Tess.

"But I air such a wicked man, awful wicked. I've done things God'll never forgive."

"But he will," murmured Tess. "Don't you remember what I sang?" and again,

"Jesus is merciful," brought a fresh rush of tears from the dying squatter.

A hoarse rattle sounded, suddenly, in his throat.

"Be ye knowin' Andy Bishop, missy?" he muttered, when he could speak.

"Yes," said Tessibel, aghast. She'd forgotten Andy!

"Yes!" she said again, almost in a query.

"He were up here five years ... innercent," wailed Bennet, "an' they just telled me he air been brought back again for shootin' Waldstricker. I were glad at first, but, now, I—"

He coughed spasmodically, and Tessibel closed her fingers more tightly over the thin hand.

"Tell me about it," she implored. "Don't you want to?"

"Yep, an' I air wantin' to write it.... Bring a paper." Bennet gave the last order to the silent attendant. The latter left the room but almost immediately returned with the warden. Tess relinquished the stool and stood near the head of the bed. In silence the officer wrote the story Bennet told them.

"It were like this," he stumbled. "Andy didn't have nothin' to do with shootin' Waldstricker. He were a tryin' to stop me from doin' it.... I done it!... Let Andy go!... Don't keep him in the coop."

The sunken eyes closed wearily.

"Sing about Him bein' kind, miss," he whispered.

Low, solemn and beautiful, the sweet soprano brought him back from the brink of the grave.

Leaning over him, Tess whispered, "Jesus is always kind."

"I done the murder," repeated Bennet. "Let Andy go, and tell 'im I'm sorry.... Here, let me write my name to the paper."

It took many efforts for the cramped fingers to scrawl the words, but "Owen Bennet" was legibly written when the man dropped back, exhausted.

The warden folded the paper and, smiling, put it into his pocket.

"I've always believed he did it, Miss Skinner," he confided to Tess. "Now, come away."

Bennet's ears caught the last words. In dying effort, he lifted an imploring hand.

"Don't go, lady!" he mourned. "Stay a minute!... I air a needin' ye.... I air afraid, so awful alone!"

Tess spoke to the warden.

"Tell Mr. Young I'm staying for a while," said she, "and will you please let Andy know about it?" And she sat down again.

Through the rest of the afternoon, until the long shadows of Auburn Prison were lost in the gathering gloom, Tessibel sat beside the dying man. Sometimes, she whispered to him, sometimes, she sang very softly, and, when Deforrest Young and the warden came through the hospital ward to her side, Tessibel had piloted Owen Bennet through the darkness into a marvelous light.