CbPCD MIST
awe or civil strife *t
'-RANDALL PARRISH !r
USTRATIONS i-CD RHODES
cof>y/i/c/ir
A C.JV<-CH//?G UCO. !
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Confederate Perpeant
Myatt of the Staunton artillery js ,it
us a spy to his native county on the Gr«en
Briar by General Jackson.
CHAPTER II—Wyatt meets a moun
taineer named Jem Taylor, with whom he
rides to a house beyond Hot Springs.
CHAPTER III—In the house Wyatt and
Taylor meet Major Harwood, father of
Inoreen and an old neighbor of Wyatt
(who Is sent to bed while the two other
men talk. Wyatt heroines suspicious, and
finds that Taylor has murdered Harwood
and escaped.
CHAPTER IV—Wyatt changes to the
U. 8. cavalrf uniform he has with him.
and rides away in the night, running Into
a detachment of Federal cavalry to
whom he identifies himself as Lieutenant
Raymond, Third U. 8. cavalry, by means
of papers with which he has been pro
vided. Captain Fox finds Harwood's body
and follows Taylor’s trail.
CHAPTER V—Fox and Wyatt believe
Taylor to be old Ned Cowan. The de
tachment Is ambushed. Wyatt escapes to
the Green Briar country and goes to Har
wood’s apparently deserted home.
CHAPTER VI—Wyatt finds Noreen
Harwood alone in her home. She does
not recognize him, and he introduces him
Pelf us Lieutenant Raymond.
^^APTER VII—Parson Nichols comes
to the house and tells Noreen of h»*r fa
ther’s death.
CHAPTER VIIT—Wyatt forces Parson
Nichols to confess that he ha.s been sent
In advance of Anse Cowan, who proposes
to marry Noreen at once, and so quiet
title to the land In dispute between the
Cowans and Noreen's dead father.
CHAPTER TX—Anse Cowan and hi#
gnng arrive and find the preacher bound
In a closet. Wyatt and Noreen have con
cealed themselves In the attic.
CHAPTER X—TTie Cowan gang ran
sacks the house hut falls to find the hid
den couple. Wyatt tells Noreen who lie Is.
CHAPTER XT Wyatt and Noreen re
turn to the second floor and await the
next move of the gang. forcing the
preacher to silence.
CHAPTER XTT- Enable to escape while
the gang la on the first floor and around
the house, Wyatt proposes to marry
Noreen to protect her from Cowan. She
accepts and Wyatt forces the preacher to
marry them.
CHAPTER XITT—Cowan’s gang Is driv
en off by Federal troops, one of whose
officers Is the real Lieutenant Ravmond.
Wyatt is trapped, though Noreen attempts
to defend him.
It Is Indeed odd how the human
mind works, and now this new disrov
ery completely eclipsed every othei
consideration. The thought of possible
escape, of any means of defense, nevei
occurred to me. All my memory re
talned was that last glimpse of het
slender figure at the window and thf
silhouette of her averted face. What
was her thought of me? In the mo
ment of. her first surprise she had
sprung to my defense, but as soon af
she could consider the conditions, hei
whole nature would turn against me—
even now the feeling of diHgust hati
come. She had turned coldly away
hating the very sight of me—staring
out of the window until I should dis
api>ear, dreading lest I prove cut
enough to boast of our relationship
Well, the lady need not fear that. My
fate would be swiftly and surely
settled—a drumhead court-martial at
Lewlsburg, a verdict of guilty, and a
firing squad at dawn. No one need
ever know, for the preacher’s lips
could be easily closed. And perhaps
Lieutenant Raymond—Bah! my teeth
clenched angrily at thought of him
and I tramped on down the stairs tc
the gruff order of the sergeant.
There were three other priseners
sallow-faced, roughly dressed moun
taineers, one wounded in the arm, bul
I was kept separated from them with
a special guard. Within ten minutes
the entire command was In saddle and
moving slowly northward. The lieu
tenant, rode In my rear for the first
mile, watchful and suspicious. Norecn
was riding in advance of the column
between the two captains. A gray,
circular cape concealed her slender
form, hut I could observe the frequent
turning of her head as she appar
ently conversed vivaciously with her
attentive escorts. Her show of utter,
heartless Indifference hurt and blinded
uie. I actually believed the girl was
glad of my capture; that she rejoiced
at the knowledge that within a few
hours she would be freed from all
the consequences of our rash act. It
was the reaction which had given her
such high spirits, the exhilarating
sense of escape, a relief so profound
as to cause her to even forget her
father’s death. This was the concep
tion which took possession of me, ob
literating every other possibility.
At first the thought served to numb
my faculties, and I rode forward with
lowered head, all Interest In life dead
within me. Then pride came to the
rescue, and 1 straightened up in the
saddle. She was my wife—that slen
der, laughing girl! Of course 1 would
never claim her; no word would ever
pass my lips to bring her pain and
humiliation. No one would ever know
—excepting us two. But if I did speak
she could not deny, and she must real
ize why I had kept silent, why I had
even gone down to death with closed
lips. '
And then—there was yet a chance!
While there was life there was hope,
and I was soldier enough, and suffi
ciently reckless, to accept of any op
portunity. There might occur a relax
ation in the vigilance of the guard,
some dclav at Lewlsburg, possibly a
forwarding of me to headquarters at
Charleston—some suddent unexpected
opening through which I could
squeeze. I was ready enough tc try,
however desperate the occasion; and.
if such a chance did serve, the end
might not ccme merely with escape.
1 could see her again; talk with her
face to face. It became a fascinating
dream, r.n inspiration—at last a grim
determination.
Through the mud we rode steadily
on, following the pike that curved
along the base of the mountains, and
finally into the streets of Lewisburg.
CHAPTER XV.
I Choose Death.
f knew the town well, and few
changes had occurred since last I
walked those streets hand in band
'Vith my father. It had not grown any
larger, and thus far the war had
wrought little damage. The most of
life in the sleepy old town centered
about the Frost hotel, a three-story
wooden structure, where the officers
of the garrison lodged and the court
house, a dignified edifice of red brick,
a block beyond, where in other days
my father presided on the bench, now
completely surrounded by a military
camp. There were more Federal sol
diers here than I had expected to see,
but a remark exchanged between two
of my guard informed me that most
of these had arrived during the night
a regiment of Ohio troops, and a
battery of light artillery, destined to
assist in a contemplated attack on
Covington.
'1 he head of our little column halted
in front of (he hotel, but Whitlock
shouted a command to the sergeant,
and we rode on past, the guard closing
up tightly. I kept my face straight
ahead, determined to make no sign,
but, nevertheless, I had a glimpse of
Moreen, standing at her horse's bead,
and, for an instant, 1 felt certain her
eyes were resting on me. Then Ray
| roond spoke to her, touching her
| sleeve familiarly with his hand to at
i tract attention, and she Ftniled up into
j ills face, as if in answer to some witty
, remark. This was the last glimpse I
I had as we clattered on down the
' street.
At the courthouse steps the ser
geant turned me over to the officer of
I the day, and 1 was marched Into the
j basement. The old jail had evidently
j been burned, for I could see the roof
had fallen in, and the stone walls
»2_J
I Gave Small Heed to the Glance of
Satisfaction He Gave Me.
were blackened with sinoke, but the
lower story of the courthouse was bas
tile enough, the windows barred, the
walls strong and thick. The place in
which they thrust me had at one time
protected the county records, was per
haps nine feet square, with one aar
row window high up in the wall, and
an iron door. The floor and w'aiis
were of stone, and the ceiling beyond
reach. A soldier threw in a box. to be
utilized as a seat, together with a
couple of blankets.
"There, Johnny,” he said carelessly,
"1 guess you’ll stay here till you’re
wanted. There’ll be some grub along
after awhile.”
The iron door clanged behind him,
and I heard the sharp click of a heavy
lock, then regular steps passing back
and forth across the stone floor, proof
that a sentinel had been posted. There
seemed little need of one as 1 sat
down on the box and stared discon
solately about. The window afforded
ample light, but no hope of escape.
The shelves on which had once re
posed the records of Green Briar
county were of iron, as a safeguard
ngainst fire, with a sheet of iron at
their back, concealing the wall be
hind. My heart gave a sudden leap.
As a boy 1 had played about this
building, Invading every nook and cor
ner. 1 could even recall when those
shelves were first installed, and I had
sat almost where 1 was sitting then,
and watched the workmen bolt them
into their present position. It was be
fore my father bought the place out
on the ridge and we were living only
a block down the street. Those shelves
rested against the big chimney, and
there was an opening leading into it,
across which they had nailed a tin
protector before they fastened the
iron to the wall.
If I cbuld once get in behind that
iron plate the way out would not be
such a hard or difficult one to travel.
The chimney was large; I recalled
standing upright in the fireplace on
the floor above, and looking up to
where I could perceive the light of the
sky. It was constructed of irregular
bits of stone, which would afford lodg
ment for the feet, and grip for the
hands in climbing—no easy Job, of
course, but not impossible for one
reckless enough to make the attempt.
But how could 1 hope to pry loose
that protecting sheet of iron? Where
could 1 discover a tool to give me the
necessary leverage to dislodge those
bolts? Could one of those supports
be unscrewed or twisted off? If so,
it might prove strong enough for the
purpose. 1 stepped hastily across, and
tested two of them with my hands, but
found both these firm and immovable.
I dare not exercise much force in fear
the noise might be overheard, and
besides it was time the Jailer brought
me in some food. So I went back to
my seat on the box, and waited, my
eyes on the iron, and my mind eagerly
working on some plan which seemed
feasible. I had a half dozen keys in
my pocket, and a broken cartridge
shell in my belt—nothing else avail
able. The searchers had stripped me
clean. A careful survey of the floor
revealed only a twisted uail, but there
was something caught in the iron bars
of the window; from where 1 sat it
looked like the half of a broken horse
shoe. I got up to see, but quickly sat
down again—there was someone at
the door.
It opened, and a soldier stood aside
while two men entered. One was Fox,
the other a heavy-set, gray tnustached
officer, in the uniform of a colonel of
infantry. The captain greeted me
gravely, and extended his hand.
"I would far rather meet you as I
did before," he said, "but war gives
us no choice.”
"1 took my chances and have no
complaint,” I answered heartily, for I
liked the man. "1 presume there is
no doubt as to my fate?”
“I fear not. but the matter is not in
my hands, for which I am grateful
This is Colonel Pickney, in com
mand.”
1 bowed, and our eyes met. The face
confronting me was strong and reso
lute, its expression that of regret.
"A very young man. Captain Fox,”
he said to his companion, “which fact
adds to the unpleasantness of such
duty. Your name is Wyatt?”
“Yes, sir.”
“\Tou claim connection with the Con
federate service—an officer?”
“A sergeant of artillery, sir.”
He cleared his throat impressively.
“You have the appearance of an
intelligent man, Sergeant Wyatt, and
must realize the seriousness of your
position. 1 am sure 1 need not dwell
upon the fate which befalls a spy
when captured by the enemy. In
your ease there seems to be no de
fense possible—you wear Federal uni
form; were within our lines, and pa
pers have been found on you of a
most incriminating character. It is
my understanding you make no de
nial.”
i\one, whatever, sir; it would De
useless.”
There Is always a way In which
mercy can be extended,” be went on
earnestly. "Doubtless you possess in
formation which would be of the ut
most value to us. I shall gladly use
my influence on your behalf if the
circumstances warrant.”
I glanced aside at Fox, and caught
the look of appeal in his face: then
back into the expectant eyes of the
colonel.
"You have authority to make me
this proposition?” 1 q^ked quietly.
“I am in command of this camp, and
pledge you my inlluence with General
Ramsay.”
I stood motionless a moment, en
deavoring to straighten the matter out
in my mind. When I spoke it was as
briefly as possible.
"I can only thank you. Colonel
Pickney, and respectfully decline. I
will not answer your questions, sir.”
Fox gripped my arm, and as I
glanced at him, 1 was surprised to
see a mist of tears in his eyes.
“Wyatt,” he exclaimed, making no
pretense at calmness, "do not be hasty
in your decision. I would not counsel
you to any act of dishonor, but surely
some compromise is possible. I not
only ask you to consider the situation
from your own standpoint, but also
from ours. I accompanied Colonel
Pickney in the hope 1 might have
some influence.” He hesitated an in
stant. as though doubtful of his words.
‘Perhaps I should say my boy, that
another urged me to come.”
"Another?”
“Yes—a lady.”
My head swam, my heart beating
like a triphammer
"Do—do you mean, Captain Fox,
that she actually asked you to urge
me to save myself by such an act?”
“No, Wyatt; not that. She request
ed me to accompany Colonel Pickney,
and do all 1 could on your behalf.”
I drew a long breath of relief, my
mind clearing, my resolve strength
ened. She did care,then! God knew
1 was glad, and she had not urged
me to an act of dishonor. And 1 knew,
I understood—she wished me to real
ize that she was not indifferent to my
fate, that her interest was not dead;
and she had sent the message to me
by the only man she could trust to
rightly deliver it. My heart light
ened, and my lips smiled,
i "1 thank you for your message, Cap
tain Fox,” I said sincerely, clasping
his hand. “Tell her how glad it made
me. But it cannot change my deci
sion; I will answer no questions ”
“This is your tinal reply, sergeant?"
the colonel's voice had hardeued; his
eyes had lost their friendliness. "Good
day. sir.”
The door opened to the rap of his
knuckles and the two men passed
out, neither one glancing back at me.
The sentry asked a question, and 1
heard Plckney answer:
“Yes, set the food within, but let
no one communicate with the prisoner
ex< ept on my written order. 1 will
have another sentry posted above.”
A soldier entered, bearing a camp
ration and a pannikin of water, and
placed these on the box He said
nothing, and the colonel stood beside
the door watching until I was left
atone 1 put the food on the tioor un
touched and sat down on the box. I
wanted to live; I was young, ambi
tious. and—I loved that girl, i real
ized this truth nearly, and it became
the one ceaseless incentive to effort.
Her face arose before me, and I felt
that her message was meant tor ray
encouragement. She wanted me to
live; wished me to know that she was
not indifferent; trusted me to accom
plish all that a man < ouid. And I
must act now. if at all.
I ate the food, not from any sense
of hunger, but because I needed it to
keep up my strength. 1 was atone,
unwatched; there was no place where
an eye could pee'r in on my move
ments. I dragged the box over to
the window, stood on it, and managed
tc dislodge the bit of iron entangled in
the grating. It proved to be part of
a discarded horseshoe, flung there
carelessly by some farrier and con
tained three thin-headed nails. With
difficulty I loosened one of these and
fitted the sharp edge into a srrewr.ead
of a shelf bracket. The nail afforded
little purchase, and I tried three of
the screws before finding one loose
enough to turn. By this time my fin
gers were numb and bleeding, yet the
final success set my heart throbbing
with exultation.
The removal of the screw, which by
chance was the lower one enabled me
to insert the . remnant of horseshoe
beneath the bracket iron. Slowly,
So I Went Back to My Seat on the
Box.
fearful of creating alarm, the impro
vised lever wrenched the bracket
free, until I was enabled to get firm
grip on it with my hands. With foot
braced, and every muscle strained. I
worked that bit of iron back and forth,
tearing it free, until 1 knew that an
other wrench would separate it en
tirely from its fastenings. Then 1
forced it back into place again,
pressed dowrn the loosened screws,
carefully gathered together the slight
dtbris littering the floor, and cast it
into a dark corner. The bracket
seemed as solid as ever. Now 1 must
wait for night.
CHAPTER XVI.
Under Death Sentence.
It was dreary waiting, for every un
usual sound reaching me brought with
it a throb of fear. That my fate was
already practically settled I knew, but
how long the delay might be remained
a problem. Fox, 1 felt convinced,
would use whatever influence he pos
sessed to delay action, and there was
a faint hope in my mind also that No
reen might even make a plea to higher
authorities in my behalf I dare not
believe she would, but the vague
dream of such a thing recurred again
and again to my mind.
To learn all I could I dragged the
box to a position below the window,
and standing on it, managed to gain
a narrow glimpse without, the vista
revealing a flap of dirty tent cloth
and part of an army wagon backed up
against the building, leaving barely
enough space for the guard to pace
hack anil forth the length of his beat.
1 could see his blue clad legs, with the
white stripe, cross and recross In
front of me. I tested tiic strength of
the iron grating with my hands, but
the bars were firmly imbedded and
immovable.
The sun must have been well down
in the west when Fox returned. 1
had been expecting him trusting to
bis friendly interest, and with a fleet
>ug hope that Noreen might commis
sion him to bring me some further
message. Yet the moment I looked
into liis face, shadowed by the fading
light, I realized that ho brought no
encouraging news. My heart sank,
but. 1 kept a smile on my lips.
“I expected to be out of' here be
fore now,” I said meaningly; “yet I
judge from your expression there is
no reprieve.”
'And no hope of one, Wyatt,” he an
swered regretfully. "The evidence
aRainst you is too strong. The delay
in convening a court has been caused
by the scarcity of officers in camp.
Our forage trains are just beginning
to return, but it is now so late that
Colonel Pickuey has decided to hold
you prisoner u:»til morning. I waited
until the order was issued before com
ing here. The court-martial is set for
eight o'clock.”
"1 am thankful for even that delay
There is. I presume no doubt as to
the result?”
"None, so far as I can learn. You
are a soldier, Wyatt, and may as well
face the truth. 1 have urged mercy
on Colonel Pickney until he finally
ordered me to drop the subject. He
is a strict disciplinarian, a bit of a
martinet, indeed, and Inclined to take
the advice of a regular army officer
in such matters, rather than rely on
volunteers. Has Raymond any spe
cial reason to dislike you?”
“Only that I impersonated him in
this masquerade.’
‘Pah! that waR mere chance, tb
selection of his name from the arm
list The fellow i3 naturally vindh
tive enough, but surely could not ha
Dor personal dislike over so small
matter.” He paused hesitatingly, e
though doubtful ot the propriety o
pressing an inquiry. "1 trust you wi
pai don me, Wyatt, but I have wot
dered if there was not some troubl
existing between you relative to tin
friendship of Miss Harwood.”
“That would appear impossible,”
replied, somewhat surprised, “for m
being with her was entirely acciden
tal."
“Yes, so she insists; but I knov
Raymond is deeply interested in tb
girl. Someone told me he actuall;
proposed to her at West Point, am
sought this detail in hope of rneetin;
her again. The occurrence whicl
aroused my suspicion that he felt i
personal grudge against you was thh
—I know- he promised her to use hi
iniiuence to have you sent to Charles
ton for trial, but instead he urge<
Co,onel Pickney to exercise his owi
authority. 1 chanced to be in the next
room, and overheard. 1 have not seer
the young lady since.”
My mind worked rapidly. Thai
Raymond was treacherous was prob
ably true. Noreen had treated him
with marked coldness. There coulc.
be no great degree of intimacy between
them, or she would have ehosen hin
in this emergency rather than Captaii
Fox. Hut she had revealed to neitliei
officer the fact of our marriage; ll
was not so much as suspected.
"How is it, Wyatt?” Fox asked, as 1
failed to speak. “Should Miss Har
wood be informed of the lieutenant’s
action?”
“By no means, captain. I doubt \!
she really trusted the fellow evei
w hen she made him a messenger.”
"So do I. for later she went herself.1
“To Colonel Pickney?"
"Yes, an hour ago. after Raymom
returned with ills report. I was a
the hotel, and raw her slip out tb*
side door. Colonel Pickney has head
quarters in the big stone house oppo
site the courtyard, and t had the curl
osity to watch. She was inside nearij
half an hour, and returned by way ol
the side street. Then she sent foi
me.”
"She told you the result of her inter
view?”
"It was not even mentioned, but 1
knew' she had met with no success
She seemed distressed, but was anx
ious that you should know at once thf
seriousness of your position, and the
only hope of escape offered you.”
My heart was beating fiercely at
this direct evidence of her interest in
my affairs. She had even humbled
herself to beg for me a chance; per
haps, to Colonel Pickney she had even
confessed the truth in hope of chang
ing his decision. But the effort had
proved useless; he had named terms
which she evidently considered unwor
thy.
"What hope?" I asked coldly. ‘‘You
mean the terms offered me before?’
He bowed gravely, but without
speaking.
"And did Miss Harwood request you
to urge my acceptance?"
“By no means. Her purpose was tc
acquaint you with the conditions, tc
relieve your suspense, and permit you
to realize her friendliness. I was to
tell you this frankly, but not to urge
any decision upon you.”
“And 1 thank you, Captain Fox, and
beg you to express to her my appre
ciation of her kind loyalty. My life is
of email account in this struggle, and
its preservation would be no excuse
for treachery.”
Fox grasped my hand firmly in both
of his own.
“I am glad of your decision, Wyatt,”
he said earnestly. “1 had no doubt
of what it would bo; nor do 1 think
she had. Is there anything I can do?
Any comfort I can add?”
“Only one; I would ask of Miss
Harwood a single favor. It is that she
write my mother the conditions ot
my death a woman can do that best '
"I can promise you it shall he done
I sincerely wish, Wyatt, we had met
under pleasanter circumstances. This
is a sad ending to what might have
been a lasting friendship; I confess 1
have learned to like you, my boy.”
“And i you. Captain Fox.” 1 respond
ed earnestly, feeding deeply his friend
iiness “And.” in spite of every effort
at control my voice faltered, “you will
tell Miss Harwood how much her ntes
sage of kindness meant to me."
“I certainly will, my lad—Is that
all? It may not bo possible for me to
come again.”
"There is nothing else; Jackson
will learn the truth through other
sources—good by. and may God guard
you.”
"Good-by.”
Our hands clung, our eyes met. and
then he turned away, without ventur
ing to glance back; the door closed
behind him, and I stood staring at it
through blurred vision. 1 was still
standing there motionless when the
iron barrier opened a few inches, and
the hand of a soldier pushed a tin
i containing food slong the floor.
“Here's your supper, Johnny,”
growled a voice Indistinctly, "an’ I
guess you won't be bothered any more
tonight.”
I sat on the box. and choked down
what food I could, endeavoring to
drive away the feeling of depression
in which Fox had left me. I needed
now strength and courage to front the
one chance left.
CHAPTER XVII.
The One Path of Escape.
There was absolutely nothing for
no to do but wait, but It was hard to
idge time. The noise of the camp
• ithout was some guide, but, as the
I- l ii IT-—n—■«
Fox Grasped My Hand Firmly In
Both Hla Own.
evening lengthened a band began play
mg overhead, and 1 rould hear the
sound of feet on the floor above. Kvj
dently a dnnce wbr in progress in the
big oourtrooni, and for the moment
my heart seemed to stop beating in
a sudden fear that my plan of escape
for that night was blocked.
It was the big fireplace opening into
this room through which 1 had hoped
to emerge, but I could never accom
plish such hope amidst those dancers.
And they might keep up their dancing
to so late an hour as to give me no
opportunity before dawn to find a
place In which to elude search. Fet
j the noise was In my favor, If I could
I only be assured the chimney was
| wide enough above to permit of my
finally reaching the roof. Once there
I would discover a way down. The
grim incongruity of that merry party
above, dancing and laughing In the
bright light, and of myself In that
black cell below, walling the certainty
of death the next morning, served to
steel my resolve.
1 could hear nothing of the guard in
the corridor, although 1 listened in
tently, my ear against the iron door,
during a lull in that babel overhead.
It was hardly likely another Inspection
would be made, at least not until the
sentries were again relieved, probably
at midnight. To my judgment this
would allow me nearly three hours in
which to make my efTort—and surely
half that time should prove sufficient.
The band burst Into harmony again—
a polka. I remember—and I tore free
the loosened support. It made an
ugly bit of iron, well adapted for the
purpose I had in mind. Not only could
It be utilized as a lever, but it was
no mean weapon for usp in emergency.
It must have required fifteen or
twenty minutes to break the Iron
sheathing edge loose so bs to insert
the point of m.v wedge. The bur. once
Inserted, furnished the necessary lev
erage, forcing the Iron to yield about
the rivet heads. I waited between the
dances, recruiting strained muscles,
and listening anxiously for any alarm
ing sound in the corridor, only to
spring again feverishly to the W'ork
the moment the band resumed play
ing.
The barrier yielded inch* i»V "Inch,
until I forced fully half the Irofi cur
tain backward, jamming It against the
wall, and thus revealed the bjfcck
opening into the chimney. The open
ing which I had uncovered was suf
ficiently large to permit the squeez
ing through of my body, and, once
w-ithln the chimney, 1 found ample
space In which to explore.
CONTINUED IN NEXT ISSUE.
W<3 print ladies’ calling cards.
Notice.
The Union Saw Mill Company
will pay $50.00 as a reward to any
; one. not in its employ, who will fur- .
nish information from which an\>
oerson shall be convicted of depre
dating or trespassing upon the tim
ber of said Company.
This let, day of February. 1906.
Union Saw Mill Co.
By F. W. Scott,
Secy, and Treat;