Why! Some one has camped here. See the
little cave, the screens of plaited ferns, and the stone fireplace."
"It seems to me this dark spring and those gracefully spreading
branches are familiar," said Jim.
"Beautiful Spring," interposed Wingenund.
"Yes, I know this place," cried Nell excitedly. "I remember this
glade though it was moonlight when I saw it. Here Wetzel rescued me
from Girty."
"Nell, you're right," replied Jim. "How strange we should run across
this place again."
Strange fate, indeed, which had brought them again to Beautiful
Spring! It was destined that the great scenes of their lives were to
be enacted in this mossy glade.
"Come, uncle, you are lazy," cried Nell, a touch of her old
roguishness making playful her voice.
Mr. Wells lay still, and smiled up at them.
"You are not ill?" cried Nell, seeing for the first time how pallid
was his face.
"Dear Nellie, I am not ill. I do not suffer, but I am dying," he
answered, again with that strange, sweet smile.
"Oh-h-h!" breathed Nell, falling on her knees.
"No, no, Mr. Wells, you are only weak; you will be all right again
soon," cried Jim.
"Jim, Nellie, I have known all night. I have lain here wakeful. My
heart never was strong. It gave out yesterday, and now it is slowly
growing weaker. Put your hand on my breast.
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