Mrs.Kinnaird, rising once more in an agony of impatience, stumbled against one of the tent supports.

The crutch and ridge-poles rattled, and Ida opened her eyes.
"Oh," she said drowsily, "you needn't be anxious.

He is quite sure to bring them back." She apparently tried to rouse herself, and, failing, went to sleep again; but she left Mrs.Kinnaird a little comforted.

The latter was observant, and she felt that Ida Stirling had a reason for her confidence which, she fancied, was not lightly given.
The sunlight had, however, faded off the valley when she rose for the last time from the seat she had found outside the tent, for there was no doubt now that a faint patter of feet on stones mingled with the clamor of the river.

Almost as she did so, a few plodding figures appeared beneath the firs, and she saw that two of them carried a litter between them.