mill. He would fool them all, for few knew of the crossing which cut

off several miles on the way to the wilder country beyond. He had not been that way himself in many months, but he knew it perfectly.

Up a steep hill he flew on the high, flashed over the level summit, and began the rough, winding descent. He was driving recklessly, but with splendid skill. A little grove of trees blurred past, and then he reached the river bank.

Too late he saw that he had blundered.

The bridge was gone!

Following a grinding shock of the emergency, the car shot through the frail protecting timbers at the brink, and, for one brief, awful instant, seemed to hover in the air above the river.

With a tremendous splash, it struck the water and sank beneath.

By some strange freak of chance, Stovebridge had been flung free of the entangling car, and presently, dazed by the shock, he struggled to the surface and strove to reach the shore.

But the current was very swift, and something seemed to drag him down. Still he struggled frantically. He must reach it. He did not want to drown. He was afraid to die, as he had been afraid of many things in life.

His arms grew numb and his legs seemed to have no feeling left. If he could only loosen the weight which dragged him down! It was as though hands were clutching him and pulling him slowly but inexorably below the surface.

Finally into his numbed brain came the thought that they were really hands--the hands of the child! Ah, well, it was only justice that the weak fingers of the little one he had murdered should have grown strong enough to draw him to his destruction.

He was tired. If he could only give up and cease to try. But he did not want to face the child down in the deep, cold river. The water washed over his face and he struggled weakly to raise his head, but could not. In his ears there was a distant roaring which grew louder and louder. The dragging hands were very heavy. Why not stop battling and let it go? Life was not worth the effort. His arms dropped feebly and a sense of infinite rest and peace stole over him.

The roaring ceased.