"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.