With a low cry he sprang to his feet and ran to the window.
Through the trees he could see the sunrise glow of the eastern
sky. Down in the yard no one was in sight; but the barn door was
open, and, with a quick indrawing of his breath, David turned
back into the room and began to thrust himself into his clothing.

The gold in his sagging pockets clinked and jingled musically;
and once half a dozen pieces rolled out upon the floor. For a
moment the boy looked as if he were going to let them remain
where they were. But the next minute, with an impatient gesture,
he had picked them up and thrust them deep into one of his
pockets, silencing their jingling with his handkerchief.

Once dressed, David picked up his violin and stepped softly into
the hall. At first no sound reached his ears; then from the
kitchen below came the clatter of brisk feet and the rattle of
tins and crockery. Tightening his clasp on the violin, David
slipped quietly down the back stairs and out to the yard. It was
only a few seconds then before he was hurrying through the open
doorway of the barn and up the narrow stairway to the loft above.

At the top, however, he came to a sharp pause, with a low cry.
The next moment he turned to see a kindly-faced man looking up at
him from the foot of the stairs.

"Oh, sir, please--please, where is he? What have you done with
him?" appealed the boy, almost plunging headlong down the stairs
in his haste to reach the bottom.

Into the man's weather-beaten face came a look of sincere but