He stretched his hands up towards the glistening sky.

“Jesus Christ,” he cried eagerly, “come into my life and make it light.  I take thee for my Master, my Friend.  I give myself away to thee.  I will follow wherever thou dost lead.  Jesus Christ, help me to grow like thee!”

The hush of a great peace fell upon his soul, while through the listening night an angel stooped and traced upon his brow the kingly motto, ‘Ich Dien.’

CHAPTER V.

“Don, Don, me’s tumin’,” and the baby of the farm, a little child with sunny curls and laughing eyes, ran past the great barns of Hollywood.

John Randolph was swinging along the green road with a bridle over his arm, whistling softly.  He turned as the childish voice was borne to him on the breeze.  “All right, Nansie, wait for me at the gate.”  Then he sprang over the fence and crossed the field to where a group of horses were feeding.

The child climbed up on the gate beside a saddle which John had placed there and waited patiently.  He soon came back, leading a magnificent bay horse, and began to adjust the saddle.

“Now, Nan, I’ll give you a ride to the house.  Can’t go any further to-day, for I have to cross the river.”

The child shook her head confidently.  “Me ’ll go too, Don.”

“I’m afraid not, Nan.  The river is so deep, we’ll have to swim for it.  That is why I chose Neptune, you see.”

“Me’s not ’fraid, wiv ’oo, Don.”

“Better wait, Baby, till the river is low.  Well, come along then,” as the wily schemer drew down her pretty lips into the aggrieved curve which always conquered his big, soft heart.  She clapped her hands with glee, as he lifted her in front of him and started Neptune into a brisk trot, and made a bridle for herself out of the horse’s silky mane.

“Gee, gee, Nepshun.  Nan loves you, dear.”

When they reached the fording place John’s face grew grave.  The river had risen during the night and was rushing along with turbulent strength.  There was no house within five miles.  His business was imperative.  He dared not leave the child until he came back.  Crouching upon the saddle, he clasped one arm about her while he twisted his other hand firmly in and out of the horse’s mane.

“Are you afraid, Nansie?”

She twined her arms more tightly about his neck until the sunny curls brushed his cheek.

“Me’ll do anywhere, wiv ’oo, Don.”

Just as the gallant horse reached the opposite bank Reginald galloped down to the ford on his way home for Sunday.

“Upon my word, John, you’re a perfect slave to that youngster!  What mad thing will you be doing next, I wonder?”

“The next thing will be to go back again,” said John with a smile, while Nan clung fast to his neck and peeped shyly through her curls at her brother.

“Where are you off to?”