There had been a sudden outcry from the depths at high hot noontide one day, and John had rushed from his cabin--his young, foolish, flirting wife clinging to him--to answer that despairing cry of his imprisoned men.

There was one exit that he alone knew which might be yet held open, among falling walls and tottering timbers, long enough to set them free.

For one moment only the strong man hesitated between her entreating arms and his brothers' despairing cry.

But she rose suddenly with a pale face, and said, "Go, John; I will wait for you here." He went, the men were freed--but she had waited for him ever since! Yet in the shock of the calamity and in the after struggles of that poverty which had come to the ruined camp, she had scarcely changed.

But the men had.