diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8198-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 167768 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8198-h/8198-h.htm | 8884 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8198.txt | 8821 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 8198.zip | bin | 0 -> 165302 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/4wtch10.txt | 8787 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/4wtch10.zip | bin | 0 -> 164696 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/4wtch10h.htm | 8834 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/4wtch10h.zip | bin | 0 -> 167252 bytes |
11 files changed, 35342 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8198-h.zip b/8198-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7b702b --- /dev/null +++ b/8198-h.zip diff --git a/8198-h/8198-h.htm b/8198-h/8198-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fcc1e58 --- /dev/null +++ b/8198-h/8198-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8884 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> +<TITLE>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody</TITLE> +<META HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1 { margin-top: 2em } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + img { border-style: none } + --> +</style> +</HEAD> +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Fourth Watch + +Author: H. A. Cody + +Posting Date: April 29, 2013 [EBook #8198] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: July 1, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH WATCH *** + + + + +Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>The Fourth Watch</h1> + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps">by</p> + +<h2>H. A. Cody</h2> + +<h3>Author of The Frontiersman, Under Sealed<br>Orders, The Long Patrol, Etc.</h3> + + + + +TO ALL + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps">"Messengers, Watchmen and Stewards of the Lord,"<br> who have faithfully +toiled through Life's long night,<br> and now in their Fourth Watch and Last +Watch<br> behold the dawn of a new Life breaking, this book is<br> affectionately +dedicated by one but yet in the<br> Second Watch.</p> + + + + +<h1>Contents</h1> + +<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman"> + <li><a href="#ch_01">The Awakening</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_02">The Vision</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_03">Glendow Rectory</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_04">The Warder of the Night</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_05">The Breath of Slander</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_06">The Auction</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_07">The Farringtons</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_08">The Golden Key</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_09">Beating the Devil</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_10">In Camp</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_11">Guarding the Flock</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_12">Light and Shadow</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_13">For the Sake of a Child</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_14">The Long Night</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_15">Deepening Shadows</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_16">For Sweet Love's Sake</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_17">Hitting Back</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_18">Wash-Tub Philosophy</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_19">The Sting</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_20">The Overseer</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_21">Decision</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_22">In the Deep of the Heart</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_23">Where Is Dan?</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_24">The Rush of Doom</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_25">Beneath the Ashes</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_26">A Rope of Sand</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_27">In the Toils</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_28">Waiting and Serving</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_29">Rifted Clouds</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_30">Beneath the Surface</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_31">Light at Eventide</a></li> +</ol> + + + + +<h1>The Fourth Watch</h1> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_01"></a>Chapter I</h1> + +<h2>The Awakening</h2> + + + +<p>The boy plied his hoe in a listless manner, for his thoughts were +elsewhere. Several hundred yards to the right stood the forest, glorious +in its brilliant autumn hues. There among those trees the wary partridges +were feeding or perching temptingly upon bough, fallen log or ragged +stump. To the left the waters of the noble River St. John rippled and +sparkled beneath the glowing sun. Over there amidst that long stretch of +marshland, in many a cove and reedy creek, the wild ducks were securely +hidden. What connection had a rugged, stirring lad with a brown sombre +potato patch when the strong insistent voice of the wild was calling him +to fields afar? There was no inspiration here--among these straggling +rows. Nothing to thrill a boy's heart, or to send the blood surging and +tingling through his body. But there--! He sighed as he leaned upon his +hoe and looked yearningly around. Down on the shore; in a sheltered cove +among the trees, the <i>Scud</i>, a small boat, was idly flapping her +dirty patched sail.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what dad left it up for?" thought the boy.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's going after more ducks. Wish to goodness he'd help with these +potatoes so I could get off, too."</p> + +<p>Then his eyes roamed out over the water until they rested upon a white +sail away in the distance, bearing steadily down-stream. He watched it +carelessly for some time, but noticing the manner in which it drooped +under an occasional squall his interest became aroused.</p> + +<p>"There's too much canvas, that's sure!" he ejaculated. "Some idiot, I +s'pose, who doesn't know 'bout these squalls. Guess he'll learn soon if he +isn't careful. Now the <i>Scud</i>, she's all right. I'd risk her any +time--My--!" and he almost held his breath as the white sail, much nearer +now, swooped to the water like the wing of a gigantic bird. The boat +righted herself, however, and sped gracefully forward. Again and again she +dipped and careened under each successive squall, winning the lad's +unstinted admiration. But even as he looked and wondered, a furious gust +caught the white sail as it listed heavily, and drove it with one sweep to +the water, overturning the boat as it did so. With a cry of fear the boy +dropped his hoe, stared for an instant at the overturned craft, and then +sped across the potato field sloping to the shore. He did not wait to go +by the path, which led straight up to a little cabin in the valley, but, +making a short cut to the left, leaped into a tangled thicket beyond. He +crashed his way through the branches and underbrush, not heeding the +numerous scratches upon face and hands.</p> + +<p>He reached the <i>Scud</i>, tore, rather than untied the painter from an +old oak root, and sent the boat reeling backwards from its moorings. The +sail flapped wildly in the breeze, which was now growing stronger, and the +craft began to drift. Catching up the centre-board, lying near, the boy +drove it down into its narrow groove with a resounding thud. Seizing the +sheet-line with one hand, and squatting well astern he grasped the tiller +with the other. Nobly the boat obeyed her little determined commander. The +sail filled, she listed to the left and darted forward, bearing bravely up +the wind. Straight ahead the boy could see the distressed boat sinking +lower and lower in the water, with a man and a woman clinging desperately +to the upturned side. The wind was now whistling around him, and at times +threatening to rip away the patched sail. The water was rough, and the +angry white-caps were dashing their cold spray over his clothes. But not +for an instant did he swerve from his course until quite near the wreck. +Then letting go the sheet-line he permitted the boat to fall away a little +to the left. In this manner he was able to swing gradually in a +half-circle, and by the time he was up again to the teeth of the wind the +<i>Scud</i> was lying close to the overturned boat.</p> + +<p>So preoccupied had been the boy up to this moment that he had no time to +observe closely the shipwrecked pair. Now, however, he cast a curious +glance in their direction, as he let go the rudder and sheet-line, and +threw out the painter to the man. Eagerly the latter seized the rope, and +managed to hold the two boats together.</p> + +<p>"Give us yer hand," shouted the boy, "and let her come out first. Be +careful now," he continued as the crafts bumped against each other. +"There, that's good."</p> + +<p>With considerable difficulty the two strangers were rescued from their +perilous position, and then the <i>Scud</i> dropped away from the wreck.</p> + +<p>"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy, as once again he brought the +boat to the wind.</p> + +<p>"Over there," responded the man, pointing to the opposite shore. "We can +land on that point and get driven home."</p> + +<p>Almost mechanically the boy swung the <i>Scud</i> around, and headed her +for the place indicated. From the moment he had caught a glimpse of the +woman clinging to the boat he had found it hard to turn away his eyes. Her +hat was gone, and the wind was blowing her dark-brown hair about her face, +which was white as death. But when she turned her large blue eyes filled +with gratitude and fear upon her rescuer, a strange feeling of +embarrassment swept suddenly over him. Women he had seen before, but none +such as this. How quiet she was, too--not a cry or complaint did she make. +Her clothes were wet; the water cold, and the wind raw. But she sat there +in the boat watching him with those big eyes as he guided the <i>Scud</i> +steadily forward.</p> + +<p>He looked at her dress, how neat and clean it was. Then he glanced at his +own rough togs. How coarse, worn and dirty were they, while his shoes were +heavy grey brogans. A flush mantled his sun-browned face. He shifted +uneasily, gripped the tiller more firmly, and drove the <i>Scud</i> a +point nearer to the wind. What must she think of him? he wondered. Was she +comparing him with the well-dressed man at her side, who was looking +thoughtfully out over the blue water? A feeling of jealousy stole into his +heart. He had never known such a thing before. He knew what it was to be +angry--to stamp and shout in his rage. He had engaged in several pitched +battles with the boys in the neighbourhood who had made fun of him. But +his life--a life of freedom--had satisfied him. To hunt, to trap, to +wander over hill, valley and forest was all that he asked for. He had +never thought of anything higher, never dreamed of any life but the one +his father led, hunting, and trapping in season and making a slight +pretence of farming. Now, however, something was stirring within him. He +longed to show this woman that though his clothes and shoes were rough, he +was almost a man and could do great things.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, my boy?"</p> + +<p>The words startled him, and he glanced quickly up. The woman was looking +at him still, but now she was smiling. Was she laughing at him?</p> + +<p>"My name's Dan," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Dan, Dan what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just old Jim's boy."</p> + +<p>"Old Jim, Old Jim!" repeated the woman. "Do you mean Jim Flitter, the +trapper?"</p> + +<p>"Yep, that's him."</p> + +<p>"And do you live over there?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. In that shanty up the valley, Dad and I live there alone."</p> + +<p>"Have you no mother, Dan?" and the woman's voice was soft and low.</p> + +<p>"None now."</p> + +<p>She was about to question further, but noticing the look upon the boy's +face she desisted.</p> + +<p>"Do you know you've saved our lives?" she remarked after a short silence. +"I can never thank you enough for what you have done for us to-day. I +don't think I could have clung to that boat much longer."</p> + +<p>"I ain't done nuthin'," Dan replied. "But next time you go out don't carry +so much sail, specially when it's squally. I mayn't always be handy like I +was to-day. But come, we're at the pint, so I'll land you here." Saying +which, Dan let the sail go free, and ran the boat gently up the pebbly +shore.</p> + +<p>"Now, my boy," asked the man, "how much do I owe you?" Dan had stooped and +was about to push the <i>Scud</i> from the beach. He looked up quickly at +the question, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>"How much?" demanded the man, somewhat impatiently.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Simply this. You've done us a great service, saved us +from death, and how much money do you want? How much shall I pay you?"</p> + +<p>"Nuthin'."</p> + +<p>Dan was standing erect now. His dark eyes fixed full upon the man's face, +flashed with anger, while his heart thumped tumultuously beneath his +little checkered shirt.</p> + +<p>"What! won't take any pay!"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Cause I won't. You've no right to ask me. It ain't fair!"</p> + +<p>That was all Dan could utter. He could not express his feelings; +repugnance filled his heart at the thought of taking money for what he had +done. He felt the woman's eyes fixed upon him. What would she think, of +him, Dan Flitter, taking money for saving people's lives? He gave one +quick glance in her direction, turned, and pushing the boat from the +shore, sprang in, leaving the man and the woman upon the beach gazing +wonderingly after him.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_02"></a>Chapter II</h1> + +<h2>The Vision</h2> + + + +<p>"Danny, what's the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Flitter laid down his paper, took his pipe from his mouth, and looked +inquiringly at his son.</p> + +<p>Dan was seated at the farther end of the table, cleaning his beloved +shot-gun. It had done good work that day, and a fine string of partridges +hung in an outer room, ready to go to the store early the next morning. A +week had now passed since the rescue on the river, and during the whole of +that time he had said nothing about it to his father. There was a reason +for this. The latter had been much away from home during the day, only +coming in late at night when his son was in bed, so they had little chance +for conversation. It was a busy season, and they must make the most of it. +So while the one scoured the forest for partridges, the other searched the +river for ducks and geese. But Dan did not feel inclined to say anything +to his father about what he had done. To him it was not worth mentioning. +That he had picked up two shipwrecked people, and set them ashore, in his +eyes was a very simple thing. It was made less so by the thought of that +woman with the large eyes, beautiful face and sunny smile. How could he +describe to his father the new feeling which had come into his breast, the +longing for something more than the life he was leading, and the desire to +show that woman what he really could do?</p> + +<p>His father's sudden question startled him. The mail was carried but once a +week to this place, and by the time the paper arrived from the post office +it was several days old. Mr. Flitter had come home earlier than usual, +having had a fine day's shooting on the river, and was in excellent +spirits. Game was in great demand, and he looked hopefully for good sales +on the morrow. After their scanty meal he picked up the paper and began to +read. Silence reigned in the little dingy shanty for some time, broken +only by the short, sharp question.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know anything about it, Danny?" insisted Mr. Flitter, noticing +the startled and puzzled look upon his son's face.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, dad?"</p> + +<p>"Why, about that wreck on the river. This paper says that you saved two +people from drowning right off here over a week ago."</p> + +<p>Dan's face flushed and his heart beat fast. What! was his name in the +paper? Would the people in the big city see it? What would the boys in the +neighbourhood think? Would they make fun of him any more? He could show +them now that he was somebody, for his name was in the paper! These +thoughts drove surgingly through his brain. He rose from his place and +stood by his father's side.</p> + +<p>"Show me, dad," he whispered; "let me see it."</p> + +<p>"There, Danny, look at the heading:--</p> + +<p>"'A Boy's Brave Deed.'"</p> + +<p>"And is that long piece all about me, dad?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it states what you did. Why didn't you tell me about it, son?"</p> + +<p>"Where's my name, dad?" asked Dan, unheeding his father's question.</p> + +<p>"There," and Mr. Flitter, pointing with his finger, spelled out the words, +"Daniel Flitter."</p> + +<p>"Does it say, dad, who those people were that got swamped?"</p> + +<p>"No, their names are not given. It only says that the young man lives in +the city. But why didn't you tell me about it, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Thought it wasn't worth while," replied the boy. "But I don't see how +they know about it down there to put it in the paper."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen, son. Let's have the whole story." Mr. Flitter pulled +off his boots, lighted his pipe afresh, and leaned back to listen.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who that woman is," he remarked, when Dan had finished his brief +account. "I know most people for miles around, and it's strange I don't +know her from your description. However, I shall make inquiries and find +out."</p> + +<p>During the days that followed, Dan lived in a new world. His feet trod the +earth, and he trudged for miles the woodland ways. But his mind was in +fairyland.</p> + +<p>It was an enchanted world through which he moved, and he was master of +all. The trees on every side were crowds of admiring people, and the +branches were so many outstretched hands pointing to him. His breast +swelled with pride. He walked erect, his head held high, while his eyes +flashed with a triumphant light. The birds sang his praises; the squirrels +chattered one to another, and every brook babbled "Daniel Flitter, Daniel +Flitter." His name had appeared in the paper! He was no longer an obscure +person, but a hero--a wonder! He kept the clipping carefully wrapped up in +his pocket. Often he would sit down in some quiet forest spot, unfold his +treasure and look long and proudly upon those two magic words. One day as +he sat studying the paper a desire came into his heart to know all of +those wonderful words before and after his name. He could not read, never +having gone to school. In fact he never wanted to do so. His one aim was +to be a mighty hunter and trapper like his father. But now, a longing had +entered his soul; a spark from the mysterious fire of life had found a +lodging which needed only a little fanning to produce a bright and fervent +flame.</p> + +<p>"Dad," said he, that night, while eating his supper, "I wish I knew how to +read. All the boys in this settlement can read and write. Ain't I old +enough to begin?"</p> + +<p>"You're old enough, lad, but we live a long way from the schoolhouse, and +when you were little it was too far for you to walk. You might go this +winter, when there's spare time, if you don't mind the distance."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind that, dad, but all the rest will know so much that they'll +make fun of me. I only know a few of my letters, and mother taught me them +before she died."</p> + +<p>"She did, lad, she did, God bless her," and a huskiness came into Mr. +Flitter's voice as he spoke. "If she were alive now you would know as much +as any boy of your age, for your mother was a smart one, and I guess you +take after her, Dan.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had her now," and the boy gave a deep sigh. "She'd help me every +night, and I wouldn't be stupid any more."</p> + +<p>Mr. Flitter made no reply to these words. He finished his supper in +silence, and while Dan washed the few dishes he sat thoughtfully smoking +his old clay pipe.</p> + +<p>"Laddie," he remarked as they were preparing for bed, "I've been having +deep thoughts to-night, and I've come to the conclusion that I haven't +done right by you. I've neglected you too much."</p> + +<p>"In what way, dad?" questioned the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, in many ways. I've fed and clothed you, though I guess you've earned +it all. But I've not thought enough about your mind--your education, I +mean. Besides, there are deeper and more serious things in life of which +I've told you nothing. I do feel mighty guilty when I think about it all."</p> + +<p>"You've been good to me, though," and Dan looked inquiringly into his +father's face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a way. But, then, haven't I been good to our old mare, Queen? I +feed and blanket her. But what more have I done for you--and you are my +own son? Now look here," he added, after a pause, "I'm willing to teach +you at nights how to read, and see if we can't make up for my past +neglect."</p> + +<p>"Dad! D'you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"There now, that'll do. No more talking. Let's off to bed, and we'll have +the first lesson to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>The days that followed were busy ones for Dan. The shooting season closed, +but there was other work to do. The rabbits had to be snared and his +regular rounds made to the traps set for the wiry mink, lumbering raccoon, +and the wily fox. Each night, the animals brought in during the day had to +be skinned, and the pelts carefully stretched. Then when this had been +accomplished to his satisfaction he would turn his attention to his +studies.</p> + +<p>His father was cutting cord-wood for a neighbour, and was able to get home +at night. Then the two pored over the mysterious letters and words in the +little cabin, the elder doing his best to impart his scanty knowledge to +the younger. They were happy times for Dan. He had something to live for +now, and throughout the day, as he wandered from trap to trap, the words +he had studied the night before kept ringing in his ears.</p> + +<p>But, alas! such scenes were to be dispelled all too soon. They were too +good to last long. One evening Dan returned home to find an unusual +commotion about the place. Men and women were there who had never before +entered the building. And the doctor, whom he had often met on the road, +what was he doing there? What were they whispering about? and why did they +look at him in that way, when he entered the house? Where was his father? +Who was that lying on the bed so very still? Could it be dad? He had never +seen him like that before. Then the thought flashed upon him: something +was wrong! His father was hurt! and with a cry he rushed forward, and bent +over the prostrate form. But no word of welcome, no sign of recognition +did he receive. Nothing but that vacant stare met his ardent gaze.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly, he grasped the meaning of it all, as the sympathetic +watchers told the brief story. His father had met with a serious accident. +A large birch tree in falling had lodged against another, a sturdy maple. +While cutting at the latter the birch had suddenly turned over and +swooping to the ground with a resounding crash had buried Mr. Flitter +beneath the branches ere he had had time to escape. He had been carried +home bruised, broken, and unconscious. The doctor had been hurriedly +summoned, and had done all in his power for the injured man. But in vain, +for in a short time he had breathed his last.</p> + +<p>Dan uttered not a word when the tale had been told. He asked no questions, +neither did he make any outcry. He stood like one stricken dumb, dry-eyed +and motionless, gazing upon that quiet form lying upon the bed. Gently +they led him away, and tried to speak to him. He did not heed them. A +weight such as he had never known before pressed upon his heart. He wished +to be alone, somewhere in the woods, out there where no one could gaze +upon him. His father was dead! For him there was no consolation from the +words of the Man of Sorrows. The life beyond had no meaning for him. His +mother had taught him to say the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to +sleep," but that seemed so long ago, and he had not repeated it after her +death. He had seen the birds and animals lying dead, but had thought +nothing about it then. Now his father was just like them, would never look +at him again, would never speak to him any more.</p> + +<p>He watched in a dazed manner what took place on the two following days. +Neighbours came, spoke to him, stayed awhile and then departed. The day of +the funeral arrived. He stood with the rest at the graveside. It was cold, +and the wind laden with snow whistled about him. He heard the grey-headed, +white-bearded clergyman read the Burial Service. The words of hope had no +meaning for him. An awful feeling of desolation filled his heart as he +watched the earth thrown into the grave. A shiver passed through his body, +caused not by the coldness alone. Several came to speak to him. He did not +want to see them. He turned and fled down across the field over the fence +to the humble cabin in the valley. This he entered, now so quiet and +desolate. He reached the bed--his father's bed--and throwing himself upon +it gave vent to his grief. His pent-up feelings at last found an outlet +and tears coursed down his tanned cheeks, moistening the pillow beneath +his little curly head.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_03"></a>Chapter III</h1> + +<h2>Glendow Rectory</h2> + + + +<p>"Are you cold, lad?"</p> + +<p>"No," was the brief reply.</p> + +<p>Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure +at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their +feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she +was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead. +It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east +presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did +not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes +sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides.</p> + +<p>The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and +gripped the reins more firmly.</p> + +<p>"What will Nellie say," he thought, "when she sees the lad? Won't she be +surprised! She's never tired of talking about that rescue on the river."</p> + +<p>Dan thoroughly enjoyed the drive as he nestled by the parson's side. It +was very strange to be speeding along in such a luxurious manner, with a +horse travelling like the wind, and a big jolly man holding the reins. He +said nothing, but kept his eye fixed upon Midnight, his admiration +steadily increasing. He would like to own a horse like that, and down in +his heart he determined to have one some day--his very own. + +"What do you think of Midnight, lad?" asked the parson, noticing Dan's +admiring gaze.</p> + +<p>"Great!" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Wish to have one like her, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet."</p> + +<p>"You will some day, boy; you will. But get a good one or none at all, and +here's a safe rule:</p> + +<blockquote> "Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,<br> + Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostrils wide,<br> + High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong.<br> + Thin, mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.</blockquote> + +<p>"Now the man who said that, knew what he was talking about."</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" asked Dan. "Does he live here?"</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" and the parson's hearty laugh rang out over the snow. "'Does he +live here?' I'm afraid not. Very few in Glendow know old Will Shakespeare, +more's the pity."</p> + +<p>"I should like to meet him, though," remarked Dan. "He must know a lot +about horses."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, lad, he knows a lot about most things, and you shall know him +some day, Dan, when you get older. But here we are right at home. We've +made great time."</p> + +<p>After Midnight had been carefully stabled and fed, Parson John led his +little charge into the Rectory. Scarcely had they crossed the threshold +into a brightly-lighted room ere the sound of a sweet voice humming an old +familiar tune fell gently upon their ears. Then a heavy tapestry curtain +was drawn aside, and a slender girlish form stood before them. Beholding +the lad, she gave a start of surprise, while her face, of more than +ordinary beauty, flushed with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, Nellie," laughed her father, giving her an affectionate kiss, "I +have captured your young hero at last, and I'm glad you recognize him. +He's to live with us, to be your honourable bodyguard, your Fidus Achates, +in fact."</p> + +<p>What a picture this venerable man presented as he stood there. Wrapped in +a great-coat, with fur mittens in his hands; a long grey beard sweeping +his breast; hair abundant and white, crowning a face of singular strength +and refinement, he seemed the very embodiment of health and hearty cheer. +No ascetic this, but a man in whose veins flowed the fire of youth, and +whose eyes twinkled with quiet, honest laughter as they looked into his +daughter's puzzled face.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly understand," Nellie remarked, glancing first at her +father and then at Dan.</p> + +<p>"No, I know you don't, dear, but I'll tell you all about it later. It's +enough now to know that I found him, and we are to give him a home here. +So if you'll let us have something to eat, we'll be very glad, won't we, +laddie?"</p> + +<p>Dan stood as if in a dream during this conversation. His eyes remained +fixed upon Nellie's face. Could it be possible that this was the woman he +had rescued, and who had spoken so kindly to him? It was the same, there +could be no mistake, only now she seemed more beautiful than ever. He felt +her soft hand pressing his rough, brown one, and heard her hearty welcome. +Words would not come to his lips. He was like a dumb person. But his eyes +noted much, especially the dining-room, with the table spread, the white +cloth and wonderful dishes. He had never seen anything like them before.</p> + +<p>And good reason was there for Dan's wonder. Others too would have looked +with admiration upon that scene had they been present. Everything in the +room bespoke Nellie's gentle care, from the spotless table-linen to the +well-polished, old-fashioned sideboard, a relic of the stirring Loyalist +days. Several portraits of distinguished divines adorned the walls, while +here and there nature scenes, done in water-colours, by whose hand it was +easy to guess, were artistically arranged.</p> + +<p>Nellie's devotion to her father was beautiful to behold. Her eyes sparkled +with delight as he related several amusing incidents of his visit to a +sick parishioner in an outlying district. + +"And how did you find Mr. Stickles?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"'Simply joggin', parson, simply joggin,'" came the reply, at which the +fair hostess laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose Mrs. Stickles is as jolly as ever?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. She is just the same. Poor soul! she has her hands full with her +sick husband, and a houseful of little ones. Yet she keeps remarkably +bright and cheerful. She was much concerned about my welfare, and while +she sent Sammy to look after Midnight she bustled around to make me as +comfortable as possible."</p> + +<p>"'Poor dear man,' she said, 'ye ain't as young as ye used to be, an' I +often say to John that the work's tellin' on ye. Ye've got too large a +circus, parson, too large a circus.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear soul," laughed Nellie. "There isn't a more real person in Glendow +than Mrs. Stickles. She's a friend to everyone, and knows everybody's +business for miles around."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she does," replied her father. "It was she who told me about our +young friend here, and I started off post-haste to capture him. So we have +to thank Mrs. Stickles for it all."</p> + +<p>Supper ended, Parson John and Dan went into the study, while Nellie +cleared away the dishes. A bright fire burned in the large fire-place, +giving the room a most genial appearance. The parson brought down a long +church-warden pipe, filled and lighted it. Next he drew up a comfortable +chair and proceeded to read his mail which had arrived during his absence. +Dan, in the meantime, had taken up his position in a cosy-corner nearby. A +large picture-book had been given to him, and eagerly his eyes wandered +over the wonderful things he found therein. After a while he closed the +book and leaned back against the cushions. How comfortable it was. What +luxury! He had never experienced anything like it in his life. It seemed +like a dream. He watched Parson John for a time as he read his letters and +papers. Then he looked about the room, admiring the many things he there +beheld. Gradually his eyes closed. He forgot his surroundings, and was +soon fast asleep, far away in dreamland.</p> + +<p>When Nellie had finished with the dishes, she came into the study, and, +seeing Dan, she paused to look upon him. Then she crossed to where her +father was sitting, and touched him gently on the shoulder and pointed to +the sleeping lad. Together they watched him and in their hearts there +welled up a deep love for the orphan boy.</p> + +<p>"Poor little fellow," remarked Nellie, in a low voice, taking a seat by +her father's side. "I am so glad he is with us to-night. He seemed to be +tired out."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," her father replied, laying down the paper. "We are fortunate +in getting him. I wanted a boy for some time. I understand he has a fine +character."</p> + +<p>"And you said that Mrs. Stickles told you about him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And what she said was quite true. I found Dan living with the Tragen +family. Mr. Tragen has seven children of his own, and could not very well +keep another for any length of time. He told me that the day of the +funeral he went to the Flitter house, and found Dan all alone, lying on +his father's bed, weeping as if his heart would break. With difficulty he +had persuaded him to leave and go with him. That was over a week ago and +Dan has been with him ever since. Mrs. Tragen, worthy woman that she is, +took good care of him and treated him like one of her own. Truly the Lord +will reward her. By the way, she told me an interesting thing about the +boy."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" questioned Nellie.</p> + +<p>"It seems he has never been at school, and cannot read or write. He is +very anxious to learn, and his father, before his death, was giving him +some lessons. We must see that he has every chance to learn while with +us."</p> + +<p>"But, father, there's no school in the district this winter, a most +unusual thing."</p> + +<p>"Why not teach him at home, dearie?" and the parson looked into his +daughter's face. "Why not have a school here? We can give him a start +anyway, and he will not be too far behind the rest when next the public +school opens."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed Nellie, "and may I be the teacher? +I always wanted to do something in that line, and may we begin to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Any time you like, dearie, and may God bless you, child, for your +interest in the boy. You remind me more and more of your dear mother."</p> + +<p>"And why should I not take an interest in him, father? He saved my life, +and, though I can never repay him, I should like to feel that I am doing +something. You know I read to Nora whenever I can, but this need not +interfere with that. And, oh, father, Stephen was here this afternoon, and +he's in great trouble."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, dearie?" questioned the parson, as Nellie paused and a deep +flush suffused her face.</p> + +<p>"The Frenelle homestead is to be sold."</p> + +<p>"What! do I understand you aright? Peter Frenelle's farm, that fine +property which he left free of debt when he died?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's only too true. You know there has been a heavy mortgage on it +for several years, and as the interest has not been paid for some time the +mortgage has been foreclosed, and the place is to be sold."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me," and the parson leaned back in his chair and closed his +eyes, as he always did when in deep thought. "It's bad management, that's +what it is. Stephen has had a splendid start, and through carelessness he +has let everything go to ruin."</p> + +<p>"Father, don't blame Stephen too much. He's only young, and had a great +responsibility placed upon his shoulders after his father's death."</p> + +<p>"Blame him! Blame him! Why should I blame anyone?" and the parson placed +his hand to his forehead. "Stephen is as dear to me as my own son--and I +love him. But, oh, it is hard to see my old friend's farm go to others. I +have talked with Stephen time and time again. But he has not taken the +right grip of life. Poor Mrs. Frenelle, her heart must be broken. And +Nora, that dear invalid girl, how hard for her."</p> + +<p>Nellie made no reply to her father's words. She sat looking into the fire. +Tears were in her eyes and her heart was heavy. Everything had seemed so +bright but a short time before, and now this dark cloud had arisen. Oh, if +Stephen would only bestir himself. They had known each other from +childhood. He had always been her hero. As a child her day-dreams and +fancies were woven about him. And as years advanced their love for each +other had increased. It was the natural blending of two souls which had +gradually and silently grown together in the bright sunshine of happy +youth.</p> + +<p>A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. At once she +arose to ascertain its meaning, and shortly returned.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "Billy Fletcher is very sick, and wishes to see you."</p> + +<p>"Who brought word, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Hugh Peters. He called to see the old man as he was coming down the road, +and found him quite ill."</p> + +<p>The effect of this message was quite magical. No longer was Parson John +the quiet fireside reader, but the true sympathetic pastor. He laid aside +his pipe, and at once arose from his comfortable chair. An expression of +loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his +storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of +remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until +the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to +the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times +to administer the Holy Communion.</p> + +<p>Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was +cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small +lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on +his mission of love.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_04"></a>Chapter IV</h1> + +<h2>The Warder of the Night</h2> + + + +<p>After her father's departure, Nellie sat before the fire engaged upon some +needlework. Occasionally her hands rested in her lap, while she gazed +thoughtfully into the bright blaze. The soft light from the shaded lamp +fell athwart her wealth of dark-brown hair and fair face. Her long lashes +drooped as she leaned back in an easy-chair, and let her mind wander to +the days when she and Stephen played together as happy children. What +bright dreams were theirs, and how many fairy palaces they erected in the +far unknown future.</p> + +<p>A movement in the cosy-corner roused her from her reverie. She glanced +quickly in that direction and saw Dan sitting bolt upright, gazing +intently upon her. Nellie smiled as she saw his look of wonder mingled +with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Have you had a nice sleep?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Guess so," came the slow reply. "I dreamed that you and my father were +right by my side, but when I woke he was gone and only you are with me."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will like it here," Nellie remarked, hardly knowing what to +say. "We want to make you happy, and love you just like our own little +boy."</p> + +<p>"I'm almost a man now," and Dan straightened up his shoulders and proudly +threw back his head. "I can hunt and work. See how strong I am," and he +placed his right hand upon the muscle of his doubled-up left arm.</p> + +<p>"Some day you will be as big as my father, won't you?" replied Nellie, +much amused at the sturdy lad.</p> + +<p>"Was that your father who brought me here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Westmore. But most people call him 'Parson John.' You'll call him +that, too, won't you? He likes it better."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you want me to, I will. But, say, what's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mine's just Nellie, Nellie Westmore. Not very pretty, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is. Do you know that was my mother's name--Nellie, I mean, not +the other one."</p> + +<p>"And do you remember your mother, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Only a little. She was good and pretty, just like you."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about her, will you? I should like to hear."</p> + +<p>And there in the quietness of that room Dan's tongue was unloosed, and in +his own simple way he told about his mother, her death, and how he and his +father had lived together in the little log shanty. Half an hour passed in +this quiet talk, and when at length Dan ceased Nellie glanced at the +clock.</p> + +<p>"Why, I didn't think it was so late! It is time you were in bed. You must +be tired. Come, I will show you where you are to sleep to-night, and +to-morrow we will fix up a room for your very own."</p> + +<p>Going to the kitchen Nellie lighted a small lamp, and with this in her +hand she and Dan went up the small winding stairway.</p> + +<p>"This is the place," and she opened a door leading to a room at the north +of the house. "The pipe from the hall stove comes up there, so it's always +quite warm. I do hope you will sleep well."</p> + +<p>She went to the window to draw down the blind and as she did so a light +fell upon her eyes which gave her a distinct start. It was not from the +moon, for the night was dark, but from a burning building, a short +distance up the road. The flames were leaping and curling through the +roof, sending up blazing cinders in every direction.</p> + +<p>Nellie's heart almost stopped beating as she gazed upon the scene. It was +Billy Fletcher's house! and what of her father? Was he amidst those +flames, or had he escaped?</p> + +<p>"Dan, Dan!" she cried, turning to the lad, "Come, quick! I'm afraid that +something terrible has happened! Get on your coat and cap as quickly as +possible and let's make haste!"</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to throw on their wraps, and to hurry forth into +the night.</p> + +<p>To Nellie the distance seemed never-ending. Would they ever reach the +house? How the road had lengthened! and her breath came hard and fast as +she staggered forward, trying to keep pace with the more hardy lad. The +light of the fire illumined the road for some distance around, and guided +their steps. Drawing near they could discover no one about the place. What +did it all mean? Here Nellie paused and with wildly beating heart looked +at the seething mass before her, and listened to the roar of the flames as +they sent up their wild flamboyant tongues into the air. Had her father +been entrapped in that terrible furnace? She glanced towards a barn on her +right and as she did so her eyes fell upon a sight never to be forgotten. +Someone was there, kneeling in the snow with bent head gazing intently +upon some object before him. It was her father! and with a cry of joy +Nellie rushed forward. She found he was kneeling by Billy Fletcher's side, +supporting his head, and carefully wrapping around him his own great-coat. +He looked up and an expression of relief came into his face as he saw his +daughter standing there.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you have come," he exclaimed. "Poor Billy's in a bad way. We +need help. He must be taken to some house. I wish you would hurry up the +road for assistance. Dan will go with you. Get his nephew Tom as quickly +as possible."</p> + +<p>Waiting to hear no more, Nellie, fatigued though she was, started at once +for assistance, Dan following close behind. They had gone only a short +distance, however, when they met Tom himself running along the road.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" Nellie replied. "The house is burning down."</p> + +<p>"And Uncle Billy; is he safe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's safe, but almost dead."</p> + +<p>"And the box, what about it?"</p> + +<p>"What box?"</p> + +<p>"The money box; the iron one, where he keeps his papers and gold."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the box," replied Nellie, while a feeling of great +repugnance welled up within her at the heartlessness of the man. He cared +little for his uncle, the feeble old body, but only for what he possessed.</p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the place where the sick man was lying.</p> + +<p>"Is he living?" shouted his nephew.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the parson, "though I doubt if he can last long. We must +get him away to your house as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"But the box, Parson; did you save it?" questioned Tom.</p> + +<p>"No, I never thought about it, and, besides, I did not know where it was."</p> + +<p>At this Billy opened his faded eyes, and fixed them upon his nephew's +face. He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and his words were +unintelligible.</p> + +<p>"Where's the box?" shouted Tom.</p> + +<p>Again the old man endeavoured to say something. Failing in this he made an +effort to rise. The struggle was too much for him, and with a cry he sank +back upon the snow, dead.</p> + +<p>By this time several neighbours had arrived, and stood near with a look of +awe upon their rugged faces. Nellie drew her father aside, knowing full +well that his care was needed no longer.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, "we had better go home, These men will do the rest. You +have done your part."</p> + +<p>He followed her along the little path leading to the main road. Reaching +this she took him by the arm and supported his steps, which were now +over-feeble. Slowly and feelingly, he told the story of the night. He had +found the old man in a bad condition, and cold from the lack of a good +fire. Filling the stove with a liberal supply of wood, and making Billy as +comfortable as the circumstances would permit, he had sat down to watch +his charge. Ere long the sick man grew much worse. Then the chimney had +caught fire. The bricks must have been loose somewhere, which allowed the +flames to pour through into the dry woodwork overhead, which was soon +converted into a blazing mass. Seeing that nothing could be done to save +the building Mr. Westmore was forced to carry Billy, sick though he was, +out of the house. He tried to reach the barn, but his strength failed, so +he was forced to lay his burden upon the snow, and wrap his great-coat +around the helpless man.</p> + +<p>"Poor Billy! poor Billy!" said the parson in conclusion. "He was careless +about higher things. I hope the good Lord will not judge him too harshly."</p> + +<p>"But he was not always like that, father," Nellie remarked.</p> + +<p>"No, no, thank God. He had a happy home when I first came to this parish, +long before you were born. I have often told you about the sweet, +God-fearing wife he had then. But after she was laid to rest a great +change took place in Billy's life. He became very rebellious and never +darkened the church door. He acquired a great passion for money, and grew +to be most miserly. As the years passed his harshness increased. He waxed +sullen and disagreeable. His neighbours shunned him and he looked upon +them all with a suspicious eye. His money he never placed in a bank, but +kept it in his house in gold coin, in a strong, iron box, so I have been +told, and would count it over and over again with feverish delight."</p> + +<p>"But, father," remonstrated Nellie, "there must have been something good +in poor old Billy. You know how fond he was of Tony Stickles."</p> + +<p>"True, very true, dear. I have often wondered about the affection between +the two. No one else could live with the old man, except Tony, and he +served him like a faithful dog. It is generally believed that Billy +confided many things to Tony. He is a peculiar lad, and people have tried +in vain to find out what he knew. He will certainly feel badly when he +comes out of the woods, where he is now working, and hears about Billy's +death. But here we are at home. Oh dear, the journey has greatly tired +me," and the parson panted heavily as he entered the house.</p> + +<p>During the homeward walk Dan trudged along close by Nellie's side, busy +with his own thoughts. He longed for something to happen that he might +show her what a man he was. If a robber or a wolf, or some frightful +monster, would spring out from the roadside, he would meet it +single-handed, kill or drive it away. Then to behold the look of +gratitude and admiration upon the woman's face as she looked at him, what +bliss that would be! Little did the father and daughter realize, as they +slowly walked and conversed, what thoughts and feelings were thrilling +the little lad by their side, feelings which in all ages have electrified +clods of humanity into heroes, and illuminated life's dull commonplaces +with the golden romance of chivalry.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_05"></a>Chapter V</h1> + +<h2>The Breath of Slander</h2> + + + +<p>"When a man dies he kicks the dust." Thus pithily wrote Henry Thoreau, the +quaint philosopher, in his little shack by the beautiful Walden pool. The +truth of this saying was certainly verified in old Billy Fletcher's death, +and the people of Glendow were destined to see the dust stirred by his +departure, rise in a dense cloud and centre around the venerable parson of +Glendow.</p> + +<p>The day after the fire was clear and fine. Not a breath of wind stirred +the crisp air, and the sun-kissed snow lying smooth and white over all the +land sparkled like millions of diamonds.</p> + +<p>Near the window in her little cottage, not far from the Rectory, sat Mrs. +Larkins, busily knitting. She was a woman of superior qualities and had +seen better days. Her toil-worn hands and care-marked face could not +disguise the gentle, refined spirit within, which expressed itself in her +every word and action. Two little graves in the Churchyard, lying side by +side, and marked by a small cross of white marble, told how the silent +messenger had entered that home. Often the husband and wife were seen +standing by those little mounds, while tears coursed down their rugged, +honest cheeks.</p> + +<p>"No father could have been kinder than Parson John," she had frequently +remarked when speaking about their loss, "and no sister more sympathetic +than dear Nellie. They loved our little ones as if they were their very +own. On that bright summer day when we laid our lambs to rest the parson's +voice faltered as he read the Burial Service, and tears glistened in his +eyes."</p> + +<p>Since then whatever happened of joy or sorrow at the Rectory was of the +deepest interest to the lonely two over the way. So on this bright +afternoon as Mrs. Larkins sat by the window her thoughts were busy with +the events of the past night.</p> + +<p>A knock upon the door broke her reverie. Opening it, what was her surprise +to find there a woman, with an old-fashioned shawl about her shoulders, +and a bright, jolly face peering forth from a capacious grey hood.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stickles!" she exclaimed. "Is it really you? Why, I haven't seen you +for such a long time! Come in at once, and lay off your wraps, while I +make you a cup of tea, for you must be chilled through and through."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am," Mrs. Stickles replied, bustling into the room, and untying +her hood. "Sammy hed to bring the old mare to the blacksmith shop to git +shod, an' John, my man, sez to me, 'Mother,' sez he, 'ye jist put on yer +duds, an' go along, too. It'll do ye a world o' good.' I hated to leave +John, poor soul, he's so poorly. But I couldn't resist the temptation, an' +so I come. My, that's good tea!" she ejaculated, leaning back in a big, +cosy chair. "Ain't that tumble about old Billy Fletcher, an' him sich a +man!"</p> + +<p>"You've heard about his death, then?" Mrs. Larkins replied.</p> + +<p>"Should think I hed. We stopped fer a minute at the store. I wanted to git +some calicer fer the girls, an' while I was thar I heerd Tom Flinders an' +Pete Robie talkin' about it. Why, it was awful! An' to think the dear old +parson was thar all alone! When Pete told me that I jist held up me hands +in horror. 'Him thar with that dyin' man!' sez I. 'Jist think of it!'</p> + +<p>"'I guess he didn't mind it,' sez Si Farrington, who was awaitin' upon me. +'He likes jobs of that nater.' I don't know what in the world he meant. I +s'pose ye've heerd all about it, Mrs. Larkins?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the somewhat slow reply. "I've heard too much."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so now!" and Mrs. Stickles laid down her cup, and brought +forth the knitting which she had with her. "Anything serious?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can judge for yourself. John helped to carry Billy to his +nephew's house, and then assisted the others in putting out the fire. But +search as they might they could not find the box."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so! Well, I declare."</p> + +<p>"No, they searched every portion of the rubbish, ashes and all, but could +find no trace of it. That's what's troubling me. I do hope they will find +it for the parson's sake."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Ye surprise me," and Mrs. Stickles laid down her knitting. "Wot +the parson has to do with that box is more'n I kin understand."</p> + +<p>"No, perhaps you don't. But you see after the men had made a thorough +search and could not find the box, Tom Fletcher became much excited. He +swore like a trooper, declared that there had been foul play, and hinted +that the parson had something to do with it. You know that the Fletchers +have been waiting a long time for Billy to die in order to get his gold, +property and--"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know Tom Fletcher," broke in Mrs. Stickles. "Don't I know +'im, an' wot a mean sneak he is. He's suspicious of everybody, an' is +always lookin' fer trouble. An' as to meanness, why he hasn't a heart as +big as the smallest chicken. Ye could take a thousand hearts sich as his'n +an' stick 'em all to the wall with one tiny pin, an' then they wouldn't be +half way up to the head. Mean! Why didn't he once put a twenty-five cent +piece inter the kerlection plate by mistake, an' come back the next day to +git it, an' gave a cent in its place. If that ain't mean I'd like to know +whar ye'd find it," and Mrs. Stickles sniffed contemptuously as her +needles whirled and rattled between her nimble fingers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Larkins replied, "he carries his meanness into everything. If +he even imagines that it was the parson's fault that the house burned +down, and the will was destroyed, his anger will burn like fire. He's very +revengeful, too, and has an old grudge to pay back. The parson, you know, +was the means of making him close up his liquor business some years ago, +and he has been waiting ever since for a chance to hit back. I tell you +this, Mrs. Stickles, that a man who tries to do his duty is bound to stir +up opposition, and sometimes I wonder why such a good man should have to +bear with vindictive enemies. I suppose it's for some purpose."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is, Mrs. Larkins. Indeed it is," and Mrs. Stickles' needles +clicked faster than ever. "It was only last night I was talkin' to my man +John about this very thing. 'John,' sez I, 'd'ye remember them two apple +trees in the orchard down by the fence?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' ye recollect,' sez I, 'how one was loaded down with apples, while +t'other had nuthin' but leaves?'</p> + +<p>"I remember," sez he.</p> + +<p>"'Well, then,' sez I, 'One was pelted with sticks an' stones all summer, +an' even hed some of its branches broken, while t'other was not teched. +Why was that?</p> + +<p>"'Cause it hed plenty of good fruit on it,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'Jist so,' sez I. 'Cause it hed good fruit. An' that's why so often the +Lord's good people er pelted with vile words cause they're loaded down +with good deeds. If they never did nuthin' the devil 'ud leave 'em alone, +but jist 'cause they bear good fruit is the reason they're pelted.' John +reckoned I was right, an' he's got a purty level head, if I do say it."</p> + +<p>"I only hope most of the people in the parish will stand by the parson," +replied Mrs. Larkins. "I know some will, but there are others who are +easily led, and Tom Fletcher's got a sharp tongue."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't they stan' by 'im, Mrs. Larkins? Wot hev they agin 'im? Tell +me that."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins did not answer for a while, but sat gazing out of the window +as if she did not hear the remark.</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of the parson's son, Philip," Mrs. Larkins at length +replied. "You know about him, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Sartin' I do. I've knowed Phillie sense he was a baby, an' held 'im in me +arms, too. He was a sweet lamb, that's wot he was. I understan' he's a +minin' ingineer out in British Columbia, an' doin' fine from the last +account I heerd."</p> + +<p>"That was some time ago, Mrs. Stickles, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"I believe it was last summer."</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems that Philip's in trouble."</p> + +<p>"Lan' sake, ye don't tell me!" and Mrs. Stickles dropped her knitting and +held up her hands in horror. "I was afeered of it, Mrs. Larkins. It's no +place fer man or beast out thar. Hev the Injins hurt 'im, or the bears +clawed 'im? I understan' they're thick as flies in summer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not that," replied Mrs. Larkins. "You see over a year ago Philip +invested in some mining property out there, and the prospects looked so +bright that he induced his father to join him in the enterprise. Though +the parson's salary has always been small, with strict economy he had laid +something by each year for his old age. The whole of this he gave to +Philip to be invested. For a time things looked very bright and it seemed +as if the mines would produce handsome profits. Unfortunately several +claimants for the property suddenly turned up, with the result that the +whole affair is now in litigation. The case is to be decided in a few +months, and should it go against Philip he and his father will be ruined. +Philip manages the matter, and the parson advances what money he can +scrape together. Just lately the whole affair has leaked out, and some +people, knowing how the parson needs money, may not be slow to impute to +him things of which he is entirely ignorant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles was about to speak, when a jingle of bells sounded outside. +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed, "Sammy's back already!" With that, she +rose to her feet, and the conversation ended.</p> + +<p>The church was crowded the day old Billy was buried, for a funeral in +Glendow was always an important event. Parson John was clad in his simple +robes of office and read the Burial Service in a resonant, well-modulated +voice. Beholding such nobleness, gentleness and dignity of his face and +bearing, only the most suspicious could associate him with any underhanded +dealing. What connection had such a man with the base things of life? +Mounting the pulpit, he gave a short, impressive address. There was no +sentiment, or flowery language. He glossed nothing over, but in a few +words sketched Billy Fletcher's life, and pointed him out as a warning to +those who become careless and indifferent to higher things.</p> + +<p>"The parson talked mighty plain to-day," said one man in a low voice to +another, as they wended their way to the graveyard. "He didn't put poor +Billy in Heaven, that's certain, and perhaps he's right. I guess he hit +the Fletchers pretty hard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," the other replied. "The parson got his say from the pulpit, hut +the Fletchers will have theirs later."</p> + +<p>"Why, what have they to say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll see."</p> + +<p>"About that box?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man. Why, they haven't a leg to stand on in that matter."</p> + +<p>"But they'll make legs. Surely you know Tom Fletcher by this time. He'll +stop at nothing when once he gets started, and though he may not be able +to do anything definitely, he'll do a lot of talking, and talk tells in +Glendow, mark my word."</p> + +<p>And this proved only too true. Talk did begin to tell both in the homes +and at the stores. One man, who had met the parson on a hurried trip to +the city, declared that he was driving like mad, and hardly spoke in +passing. Another related that when Tom Fletcher asked Billy about the box, +the dying man pointed to the parson, and tried to speak. Though some of +the more sensible scoffed at such stories as ridiculous, it made little +difference, for they passed from mouth to mouth, increasing in interest +and importance according to the imagination of the narrator.</p> + +<p>Although this slander with malignant breath was spreading through the +parish, it did not for a time reach the Rectory. All unconscious of +impending trouble, father and daughter lived their quiet life happy in +each other's company.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_06"></a>Chapter VI</h1> + +<h2>The Auction</h2> + + + +<p>The day of the auction of the Frenelle homestead dawned mild and clear.</p> + +<p>"Don't give Dan too many lessons," laughed Parson John, as he kissed his +daughter good-bye and tucked in the robes about his feet.</p> + +<p>"No fear, father," was the laughing reply. "Perhaps he will turn the +tables upon me. He knows so much about the woods, wild animals and birds +that I like to learn from him."</p> + +<p>Midnight strode along the road, glad of the run in the fresh air. The +sleigh bells sent forth their sweet music, echoing and re-echoing from the +neighbouring hills and forest. Everything spoke of peace, and in Parson +John's heart dwelt a deeper peace, as he guided Midnight through the +gateway and reined her up before the Frenelle door.</p> + +<p>Though he was somewhat early, others were earlier still, and a group of +men, hardy sons of toil, were standing near the house engaged in earnest +conversation. They had come a long distance, for an auction such as this +was a most unusual occurrence in Glendow. The Frenelle homestead had +belonged to the family from the early Loyalist days, descending from +father to son for several generations. Each had contributed something to +the improvement of the land, but it remained for Peter Frenelle, Stephen's +father, to bring it under an excellent state of cultivation. A +clear-headed, hard-working man, he had brought his scientific knowledge, +acquired by careful study, to bear upon the soil, until his broad, rich +acres, free from stone, became the envy and admiration of the parish.</p> + +<p>One quiet evening he was strolling around the farm with Parson John, his +firm and faithful counsellor from childhood. Looking across the fields of +waving grain, and down upon the long straight rows of corn, standing +golden in the setting sun, he paused in his walk, and remained for some +time in deep thought. "John," he at length remarked, placing his hand +affectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "the Lord has been very good +to me all of these years. He has blessed me in house and field; He has +given me health and strength, and now in my latter days peace and light at +eventide."</p> + +<p>His companion was not surprised at these words, for often before had Mr. +Frenelle talked in this manner. But early the next morning when he was +summoned to his friend's bedside, to receive his final message, and to +hold the hand outstretched to him till it was still and cold, the solemn +utterance of the previous evening came forcibly to his mind.</p> + +<p>For several years after her husband's sudden death, Mrs. Frenelle managed +the farm and exhibited remarkable skill in directing the various hired +labourers.</p> + +<p>But as Stephen, her only son, advanced to manhood she relinquished the +responsibility and devoted her time almost entirely to her household +affairs. This change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. Stephen +disliked the drudgery of farm life and left the work to the hired men. So +long as he could draw upon his father's careful savings to pay the wages +and supply his own needs, he did not worry. The neighbours shook their +heads and prophesied trouble as they saw the land producing less each +year, and its acres, formerly rich with grain, covered with bushes. Parson +John reasoned and remonstrated, though all in vain. Stephen always +promised to do better, but in the end continued the same as before. At +last the awakening came, sudden and terrible. The bank account had been +overdrawn to a considerable extent, and payment was demanded. The only +thing to do was to mortgage the farm, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Frenelle +signed the pledge of death to the dear homestead. For a time Stephen tried +to settle down to steady work, but the old habit of carelessness was too +strong upon him, and ere long he drifted back to his former ways. The +interest on the mortgage remained unpaid. Foreclosure was the inevitable +result, and the farm was accordingly advertised for sale.</p> + +<p>At last the day of doom had arrived.</p> + +<p>Parson John found Mrs. Frenelle in the cosy sitting-room with her invalid +daughter, Nora. The latter was endeavouring to comfort her mother. The +girl's face, although worn with care and suffering, was sweet to look +upon. She was not what one would call pretty, but it was impossible to be +long in her presence without feeling the influence of her strong buoyant +disposition. The angel of pain had purged away much of the dross of her +nature, leaving the pure gold undimmed. She inherited, too, much of her +father's strength of character which seemed to be lacking in her brother.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do?" sobbed poor Mrs. Frenelle, as the parson entered the +room. "We will be driven from our dear old home, where we have spent so +many happy years! We will be penniless!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, mother dear," remonstrated her daughter. "Don't get so discouraged. +The place may bring more than will cover the mortgage. We will have that +to start with again, and in a few years we may be able to pay everything +off. Stephen may settle down to hard, steady work and all will be well."</p> + +<p>"Nora is right," replied the parson. "The purchaser, whoever he is, will +no doubt let you remain here, and give you a fair chance to redeem the +place. Our Glendow people, you know, have big hearts."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I could see it in that light," and Mrs. Frenelle glanced at +the clergyman through her tears. "It is Mr. Farrington I fear. His mind is +set upon having this place. He has looked upon it with greedy eyes for a +number of years. He has only a little land in connection with his store, +and his wife is always complaining that they have not enough room. She has +said on several occasions that they would own this farm some day. Then, +you see, Farrington is a candidate for the next Councillor election. He +has large ambitions, and hopes eventually to run for the Local House. He +thinks a place such as this with its fine, old-fashioned house will give +him a certain standing which he now lacks. He wants to pose as a country +gentleman, and his wife wishes to have the house in which to entertain her +distinguished guests, who, as she imagines, will visit them. Oh, to think +of Mrs. Farrington living here!" and the poor woman buried her face in her +hands.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps someone else will outbid him," suggested Mr. Westmore. "I +would not lose heart yet."</p> + +<p>"There is no one in Glendow able to bid successfully against Mr. +Farrington," Nora replied. "We have learned, however, that Mr. Turpin, a +real estate man, arrived from the city last night. He wishes to buy the +place merely as a speculation, hoping to turn it over to some rich people +who wish to come to Canada to settle. But there is the bell!" and she +half-started from her invalid's chair, but sank back with a little cry at +the pain caused by the sudden movement.</p> + +<p>As the day was mild the auction took place in the open where the +auctioneer, surrounded by some two dozen men, was mounted on a large box. +At first the bidding was general and brisk. Gradually, however, it +dwindled down to three or four, and finally to Farrington and Turpin, the +real estate man. The former was standing a little apart from the rest, +with his eyes intent upon the auctioneer, and unable to repress the +eagerness which shone in his face. As the bidding advanced and drew near +the three thousand dollar mark, Turpin showed signs of weakening, while +his bids came slower and slower. Farrington, noticing this, could not +control his pleasure, and when he at length offered the round sum of three +thousand dollars Turpin gave up the struggle and, moving back a little, +perched himself upon a barrel, and seemed to take no interest in the +affair.</p> + +<p>A triumphant light gleamed in Farrington's eyes as he observed his +vanquished opponent. He glanced towards the house, and, seeing Mrs. +Frenelle standing in the doorway, his lips parted in a cruel smile. It was +that smile more than anything else which revealed the real nature of the +man.</p> + +<p>The breathless silence which for a time ensued at this crisis was broken +by the harsh cry of the auctioneer:</p> + +<p>"Three thousand dollars!" he called. "Going at three thousand dollars! Any +advance on three thousand dollars. Going at three thousand dollars. Once--twice--third--and--"</p> + +<p>"Three thousand one hundred," came suddenly from Parson John.</p> + +<p>An earthquake shock could hardly have startled the men more than this bid +from such an unexpected quarter.</p> + +<p>Farrington's face reddened, and he moved a step nearer to be sure that he +had not been mistaken.</p> + +<p>"Did I hear aright?" he gasped. "Did the parson add one hundred to my +bid?"</p> + +<p>"Three thousand one hundred dollars from Parson Westmore," shouted the +auctioneer. "Any advance on three thousand one hundred dollars?"</p> + +<p>"Another hundred, then, damn it," and Farrington thrust his hands deeper +into his pockets, while his eyes gleamed with an angry light.</p> + +<p>"Three thousand five hundred," came the quiet response.</p> + +<p>Silence followed this last bid, which plainly proved that Farrington, too, +was weakening. He looked around as if uncertain what to do, and his eyes +rested upon Mrs. Frenelle. In her eagerness she had moved from the door, +and was standing near the group of men with her eyes fixed full upon the +clergyman. The expression upon her face was that of a drowning person, +who, when all hope has been abandoned, sees a rescuer suddenly at hand. It +was this look more than the half-suppressed laugh that passed among the +men, which caused him to fling another one hundred dollars at the +auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand," again came strong and clear from Parson John without the +slightest hesitation.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer waited for Farrington to increase his bid. The men almost +held their breath in the excitement of the moment, and Mrs. Frenelle moved +a step nearer with her hands firmly clasped before her.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand dollars," the auctioneer spoke slowly and impressively now. +"Any--advance--on four thousand dollars? Going at four thousand dollars--Once--twice--third--and----last call----, and sold to Parson Westmore for +four thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>As these words fell from the speaker's lips a deep sigh broke the tense +feeling of the little company. They had been stirred more than was their +wont by the scene that they had just witnessed. These men knew but little +of the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms, the strife of modern nations, +the deeds of statesmen, and the affairs of the financial world. And yet in +the sale of this farm in an obscure country place the secret springs of +life, even though on a small scale, were laid bare. The pathos of a happy +home on the verge of destruction, with a loving mother and an invalid +child in danger of being cast out upon the cold world, and to see this +tragedy so narrowly averted through one staunch champion successfully +beating back pride and greed as represented in the person of Silas +Farrington--truly it was a miniature of the world's history, which may be +found in every town, village or home.</p> + +<p>"I trust you understand the conditions of the sale, sir," and the +auctioneer looked curiously at the clergyman, who was standing somewhat by +himself. "One-third of the amount down, and the balance in half-yearly +payments. I only mention this in case you may not know it."</p> + +<p>"I understand perfectly well," was the reply. "The <i>whole</i> amount +shall be paid at once, and the matter settled without delay."</p> + +<p>"Guess the ministry must be a payin' job," sneered Farrington, "when a +poor country parson kin fork out four thousand dollars at one slap. I see +now why ye're allus dunnin' us fer money. Mebbe ye've got a hot sermon all +ready on the subject fer us next Sunday."</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore looked intently at the man for an instant, and his lips +parted as if to reply. Instead, however, he turned without a word and +moved slowly towards the house.</p> + +<p>He reached Nora's side, and took her outstretched hand in his. Tears of +joy were in her eyes as she lifted them to her Rector's face, and +endeavoured to find adequate words in which to express her gratitude.</p> + +<p>"I know we are safe now!" she said. "But we never thought of you buying +the place! I cannot understand it at all. Four thousand dollars! What a +lot of money!"</p> + +<p>"No, my child, you cannot understand it now, but you will some day," and +as Mr. Westmore turned his face towards the window a tear might have been +detected stealing slowly down his furrowed cheek.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_07"></a>Chapter VII</h1> + +<h2>The Farringtons</h2> + + + +<p>Silas Farrington flung himself out of his sleigh and handed the reins to a +young man who had come forth from the store.</p> + +<p>"What are ye so slow about?" he snarled. "Here I've been callin' fer the +last five minutes. Why don't ye hustle when I call?"</p> + +<p>"I was running molasses," came the surly reply, "and how could I leave--"</p> + +<p>"There now, no back talk; I never allow it. Put up the horse, an' don't +spend all day about it, either."</p> + +<p>With these words Farrington made his way to the house, leaving the young +man inwardly cursing his unjust master.</p> + +<p>"Ye're late, Si," a voice exclaimed, as he opened the door and entered. +"We've been waitin' fer ye a full hour or more."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it," Farrington replied. "I was delayed."</p> + +<p>"An' how much did ye pay fer the farm, Si?"</p> + +<p>"Farm be--be--hanged! I'm sick of it."</p> + +<p>"But didn't ye git it, Si?" his wife persisted.</p> + +<p>"Git it? No!"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"I said no!"</p> + +<p>"But who did, then?"</p> + +<p>"The parson." + +"What! Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Who else would be fool enough to interfere with me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Farrington. "Do tell us about it, Si?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a word more about it," snapped her husband, "till we git down to +dinner. I'm most starved. Is it ready?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, yes. I'd clean fergot about it," and Mrs. Farrington bustled off +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Everything in the dining-room betokened care and industry, from the +nicely-papered walls, adorned with pictures, to the large sideboard, with +its display of old china and glassware. The table-linen was spotlessly +clean, and the food served up was well cooked. But, notwithstanding this, +something seemed wrong. An indefinable atmosphere pervaded the place which +spoiled the effect of it all. It was not the corrupted English falling +from the lips of these people which grated so harshly upon the senses. It +was the spirit of pretence which overshadowed everything--the effort to be +what they were not. Had old Titbottom been there with his magic +spectacles, he would have beheld in Farrington little more than a roll of +bills; in his wife the very essence of pretence and ambition; while the +daughter Eudora and their son Dick would be labelled "exact samples" of +the parents.</p> + +<p>Farrington told of the auction in no measured terms. He was annoyed at the +unexpected outcome and did not try to conceal his anger. The inserted +exclamations of the family told their own tale. They were much +disappointed, especially Mrs. Farrington.</p> + +<p>"Only think!" she cried, when her husband had ended, "that the parson +above all men should interfere in this matter! Him that's allus talkin' +about lovin' our neighbours as ourselves, standin' a-tween us an' our +natral rights. I hev often told Eudora, heven't I, dear? that we need a +better place than this. Now, that Frenelle homestead is jist what we want, +an' it seemed as if the Lord intended we should hev it, too. It is so +included from all pryin' eyes, an' away from them country people who are +so uncongenial. Their manners are so rough an' they know so little about +proper equity. The parson knows very well that we are city bred, an' that +our descendants hev allus had good blood in their veins, an' that we try +to follow their Example by givin' a tone to the community ever sense we +came from the city. He knows what we are a-tryin' to do, an' yit he'll +serve us in this mean fashion."</p> + +<p>"I wonder where he got the spondulicks," broke in her son Richard.</p> + +<p>"Richard, Richard! you must not use sech a word as that," and Mrs. +Farrington cast a reproving glance at her son. "Ye must hev heerd it from +Tom Jones; ye know ye never hear it at home, fer we are allus very +pertickeler about our language."</p> + +<p>"Well, money, then, ma. I don't care what ye call it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess that'll not be hard to account fer," replied Farrington with +a knowing laugh. "Tom Fletcher may be able to throw some light upon the +subject. It seems to me that the parson has come to the end of his rope. +We've borne with 'im fer years, an' it's about time he was makin' a move. +He's too old fer the ministry. We need a young man, with fire an' vim. +Anyway, the rest may do as they please, but as fer me not another cent do +I pay as long as he is in charge."</p> + +<p>"Ye've allus paid well, Si," remarked his wife, "an' the parson is not one +bit grateful."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I reckon I hev," and Farrington gulped down, his tea. "I used to +contribute heavily; eight dollars a year, an' a bag of oats at Christmas. +Now I give only four sense I've enlarged my bizness an' can't afford so +much. Besides, the parson doesn't deal with me as much as he should. He +gits too many of his supplies in the city. If he expects me to paternise +'im he must deal with me. I've told 'im so very plainly on several +occasions."</p> + +<p>"Ye certainly did yer part, Si," Mrs. Farrington replied. "If all in the +parish 'ud do as well there'd be no trouble. It is disgraceful that these +country people do not pay more to support the Church. It throws sich a +burden upon us. Only think of Mrs. Jimmy Brown buyin' a new Bristles +carpet, when the old one was quite good enough. An' her last year's hat +could hev been made over as well as not. But, no, it would not do. She had +to hev another, which cost quite a penny, so I understand."</p> + +<p>"An' Vivien Nelson's fur-lined coat, ma," chimed in Eudora, "I know it +didn't cost one cent less than seventy-five dollars!"</p> + +<p>"These country people are so extravagant, ye know," returned her mother. +"They are allus tryin' to imitate their sufferiors. To think of Vivien +Nelson, a farmer's daughter, hevin' a fur-lined coat which cost almost as +much as Eudora's! It is really disgraceful! I'm sure her father could give +more to the Church than he does, an' yit he'll let us hear the brunt of +the burden."</p> + +<p>"Guess he'll hev to bear mor'n ever now," replied her husband as he rose +from the table. "I'm done with the whole bizness, an' I'm mighty glad I +heven't paid fer the last year, an' don't intend to now."</p> + +<p>As Farrington passed out of the dining-room into the store, his clerk, a +young man new to the business, was serving a middle-aged woman at the +counter.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sturgis," the former was saying, "but we are entirely out +of it just now. We can order it for you, though, and have it in a few +days."</p> + +<p>Farrington turned angrily upon his heel as these words fell upon his ears.</p> + +<p>"What does she want?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Number forty, white thread; but we're out of it."</p> + +<p>"You stupid blockhead, we're not out of it! We're never out! If you'd use +yer eyes half as much as yer tongue ye'd be all right."</p> + +<p>"But I can't find it. I've looked everywhere," and the clerk's eyes flashed +danger as he turned them upon his master.</p> + +<p>"Well, look again. Don't stand thar starin' like an ijut!"</p> + +<p>The young man did as he was commanded. He searched and rummaged, but all +in vain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come out of that, an' let me thar," and Farrington shoved his way +past the clerk, and fumbled excitedly in the box.</p> + +<p>"Ah-yes-no-fifty-sixty-Well, I declare! Not thar! Confound it! Why didn't +ye tell me we were out before? Why did ye wait till the last spool was +gone afore sayin' a word about it?"</p> + +<p>"I've only been here a week," replied the clerk, "and how could I know you +were out. No one has called for number forty thread since I've been here."</p> + +<p>Farrington was beaten, and was forced to swallow his anger as best he +could. It was most aggravating to be thus humiliated in the presence of +this woman. He strode across the room, and stood with his back to the +stove, wondering how he could get even with his clerk. He would discharge +him. "No, that wouldn't do. It was hard to get a man to stay with him, and +this was a good worker. Anyway, he must be taught his place, and not +answer back. He would let him know that he owned the store.</p> + +<p>"Give me my mail, please."</p> + +<p>Farrington started, and turning, beheld a little lad standing by his side.</p> + +<p>"Mail! whose mail?" he demanded, glad of an excuse to give vent to his +anger. "What's yer name? I don't know anything about <i>my</i> mail."</p> + +<p>"I want Parson John's mail," persisted the boy. "Don't you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Know 'im! Well, I guess! I know 'im too d--n well. But who are you, and +what do ye want with the parson's mail?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I live with him now. I'm Dan, old Jim's boy. Didn't you know I was +there?"</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, that's a good one! To think that I should know every brat who +comes to the place."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a brat! I'm almost a man," and Dan straightened himself up. "Give +me my mail, please; Parson John's waiting for it."</p> + +<p>"Let 'im wait. I'm not supposed to give out mail to all the riff-raff who +comes fer it. Why doesn't he come 'imself?"</p> + +<p>"He's busy."</p> + +<p>"Busy! busy! Yes, I s'pose he is busy, plannin' mischief; wonderin' what +to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. How much did he git? I s'pose he gave +you some to hold yer tongue."</p> + +<p>Farrington had no intention of uttering these last words, but his heart +was so full of anger that he hardly knew what he was saying.</p> + +<p>Dan's eyes flashed, and his little hands suddenly doubled at his side. He +did not comprehend the meaning of these words, but he felt that his +friend, the white-headed old man, was being insulted. With him to think +was to act, and many a boy larger than himself had felt the lightning +blows of those little tense knuckles.</p> + +<p>"What do ye mean?" he demanded, looking up into Farrington's face.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Well, if ye want to know, I mean that Parson John is a +rogue, an' that you are nuthin' but a young sucker, an impudent outcast, +spongin' fer yer livin' upon others."</p> + +<p>Hardly had the words left Farrington's lips, when, with a cry as of a wild +animal, Dan leaped full upon him, caught him by the hair with one hand, +and with the other rained blow after blow upon his face.</p> + +<p>With a howl of mingled pain and rage, Farrington endeavoured to free +himself from this human wild-cat. He struggled and fought, and at length +succeeded in tearing away that writhing, battering form. With one hand he +held him at arm's length and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Dan +struggled, squirmed and bit, but all in vain; he was held as in a vice. +Not satisfied with shaking the lad, Farrington reached over and, seizing a +broken barrel stave from the wood-box, brought it down over the lad's +shoulder and back with a resounding thud. A cry of pain, the first that he +had uttered, fell from Dan's lips, and with a mighty effort he tried to +escape. The stick was raised again. It was about to fall, when suddenly it +flew into the air, the grip of the boy relaxed, and Farrington staggered +back from a furious blow dealt him by the young clerk. Farrington tried to +recover, but each time he was hurled to the floor by the stalwart athlete +standing before him, his eyes blazing with anger.</p> + +<p>"Get up, you coward!" he cried, when at length Farrington remained +sprawling upon the floor. "Get up if you can, and dare!"</p> + +<p>"Curse you!" snarled the defeated man. "Ye'll pay fer this!"</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that later," calmly replied the clerk. "There's to be no +more bullying while I'm here, and I won't be here long, for I'm done with +you and your outfit."</p> + +<p>"Go, go at once, d--n you, or I'll kick ye out!" shouted Farrington.</p> + +<p>"Kick me out, if you can," came the reply. "Get up and do it," and the +young man laughed scornfully. "No, you know you can't. Now, look here; +just a word before we part. I've stood your insolent abuse for a week, +without retaliating. But when you laid hands upon that boy it was a +different matter."</p> + +<p>"But he flew at me like a wild-cat," Farrington growled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and wouldn't anyone with a spark of life in him at all, after he had +been insulted by such a thing as you. You like to get a chap such as that +in your claws and torture him. You've done it before, I understand. But +it's not been such fun this time. No, no, the worm has turned at last. I'm +going now--so do what you like. I've no fear of such a thing as you."</p> + +<p>He turned, put on his heavy coat and left the building. As he did so Dan +slipped out ahead of him, and started up the road as fast as his little +feet would carry him.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_08"></a>Chapter VIII</h1> + +<h2>The Golden Key</h2> + + + +<p>"Why, Dan, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Nellie was sitting before the open fire busily engaged with her needle as +the lad entered the room. He stared at her for an instant, and then a +sheepish grin crossed his face. His clothes were torn, and his hair tossed +in the wildest confusion, while marks of blood spotted his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What in the world have you been doing?" Nellie insisted.</p> + +<p>"Nuthin' much," came the slow reply,</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't look like it. Have you been fighting?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet!" and Dan smacked his lips. "I swatted him good and hard, that's +what I did."</p> + +<p>"Did what?"</p> + +<p>"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair."</p> + +<p>"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't +understand. Sit down, and tell me about it."</p> + +<p>Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the +scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless +interest.</p> + +<p>"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you +sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad +name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his +throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and +sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had +always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the +road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a +forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoarse croak +of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he +doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he +alive?</p> + +<p>"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown +eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart.</p> + +<p>"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody +called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted +him."</p> + +<p>Nellie remained silent for a while, steadily working away at her sewing.</p> + +<p>"Dan," she said at length, "I want you to promise me something, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to promise that you will say nothing about this to my father."</p> + +<p>"Why? Wouldn't he like to know how I punched that man?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. And besides I don't want him to know what has been said about +him. It's a cruel lie, and if father hears of it, it will worry him so +much. Will you keep the secret with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want me to. I'll not say a word, but, oh, I think Parson John +would like to know how I punched him," and Dan gave a deep sigh at the +thought of losing such pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Nellie replied. "I know I can trust you. Run away now, change +your clothes, and wash your face; then get the wood in, before father +comes home."</p> + +<p>Long and silently Nellie remained before the fire with her hands resting +upon her lap. Her brain was in a tumult, and her heart ached. What else +was being said about her father? To whom should she go for information? +She thought of Mrs. Larkins, but then she was over at the Hall getting +ready for a church sale to be given that very evening by the Ladies' Aid +Society. Stephen was coming for her early, as she was to have charge of +one of the fancy booths. Afterwards there was to be a quiet dance by the +young people, and she had promised Stephen that she would stay for a +while, and have her first dance with him.</p> + +<p>At length she aroused from her reverie and prepared her father's supper. +How weary he looked, she thought, as she sat and watched him, and listened +to his casual talk about his afternoon visit and the auction in the +morning. A feeling of resentment filled her heart as she recalled what +Farrington had said. To think that he should say such things about her +father, who was always so patient and loving; who was ever trying to help +others, no matter who they were. Tears came to her eyes at the thought. +Suddenly she rose, and going to where her father was sitting put her arms +around him, and gave him a loving kiss.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" came the delighted exclamation. "What ails my little girl +to-night? What does she want now?"</p> + +<p>"I want you, daddy," she replied. "I want to love you more, and be more +help to you."</p> + +<p>"Help me more! What could you do more than you do now? There, run away and +get ready. I hear bells; Stephen must be coming, and I'm afraid you'll be +late. Dan and I will look after the dishes."</p> + +<p>That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler +tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was +truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as +they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and +strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for +the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and +maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were +their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life.</p> + +<p>Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest +conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around +and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the +room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down +by her side.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you +would care to remain."</p> + +<p>"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins +replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie."</p> + +<p>"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience +troubles me."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about my father."</p> + +<p>"Why, is he sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should +have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it +was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; +thinking about others all the time."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. But he is feeling rather down-cast to-night after that +auction this morning. Some cruel things were said about him, and I always +know when he is in trouble, though he seldom complains."</p> + +<p>Nellie paused, and gazed for a time upon the group in the centre of the +room, as if intent on what was taking place there. Then her dark eyes, +filled with a questioning look, turned full upon Mrs. Larkins' face.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be with you for a few moments," she whispered, "for I wish +to ask you something. I have only spoken of it to Vivien, for she is so +true and noble. Have you heard these stories about my father, Mrs. +Larkins?"</p> + +<p>"In connection with Billy Fletcher's gold?" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, that is what I mean. Oh, it troubles me so much."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard some of them, Nellie. But do not give yourself +unnecessary concern. Evil-minded people will talk. I said nothing to you, +hoping the matter would soon die down. Has your father heard anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet, and I trust no one will tell him. He has enough worry now +without these. He has that trouble with the mine in British Columbia; +then, this morning's annoyance. Oh, he must not know what people are +saying!"</p> + +<p>"I have heard but little lately," Mrs. Larkins responded in an effort to +comfort her. "Let us trust that the talk will not amount to much."</p> + +<p>"But Vivien tells me that it is not so. Since the auction the stories have +started up again stronger than ever. People cannot understand where father +got so much money to pay for the farm. I don't even know myself, for +father never told me. Tom Fletcher and others are saying all sorts of +things. What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>Her bosom heaved as she uttered these words, which somewhat expressed the +agitated state of her mind. Before Mrs. Larkins could further reply, the +music struck up, and Stephen came for Nellie to claim her for the opening +dance.</p> + +<p>"How worthy," thought Mrs. Larkins as her eyes followed Nellie as she went +forward, "is she of a true man's love. What nobleness and strength of +character are there. But what of Stephen? If he would only get the right +grip. Such a face as his is surely meant for higher things than a life of +carelessness."</p> + +<p>She was aroused by Farrington, who had taken the seat by her side which +Nellie had recently vacated.</p> + +<p>"They're hevin' a good time," he began, nodding towards the dancers. +"Dick's in his element to-night."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda Gadsby makes him a good partner," replied Mrs. Larkins.</p> + +<p>"Only fair, Mrs. Larkins, only fair. She's not a bad girl, but no real +pardner fer my son Dick. I'm sorry her father is my opponent at the comin' +election. He'll never win, mark my word. Gadsby's too full of notions. He +wants to set the world on fire, an' has all kinds of new-fangled idees. He +will never do fer a Councillor-never. What Glendow wants is a real +practical man, one who understands human nater."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Gadsby is a superior man," replied Mrs. Larkins. "He reads much, +and is trying to farm along scientific lines."</p> + +<p>"Tryin' to farm! Yes, yer right thar, Mrs. Larkins. But that's about as +fer as he's got. He has big idees, an' is allus talkin' about this parish +bein' behint the times."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as regards the schools. They don't teach enough branches, sich as +botany, drawin' an' sich like. What do the childern of Glendow want with +botany stuck into their brains? Let 'em learn to read, write an' cipher. +Them things will pay. But as fer botany, who ever heerd of it helpin' a +man to manage a farm, or a woman to sew, cook or make butter? Now, look at +me, Mrs. Larkins. I never studied botany, an' behold my bizness. I don't +know a bit about botany, an' here I'm runnin' fer a Councillor, an' +lookin' forred to the Local House. No, no, this botany bizness is all +nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But," remonstrated Mrs. Larkins, "do you not enjoy the beautiful? Life +should be more than the mere grubbing through dust and heat, grinding out +our little day, wearing out the body and cramping up the soul in field, +factory, office or behind the counter. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and +whatever tends to enlarge our children's perspective, which will give them +a love for the beautiful, will lessen the drudgery of life, and develop +their characters. The Creator who made human beings in His own image, and +endowed them with powers above the brute creation, surely intended that +these divine faculties should be used and not allowed to lie dormant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins spoke more strongly than was her wont. She was naturally a +quiet woman. But this man's narrowness and ignorance nettled her. +Farrington, however, was not in the least affected by such words; in fact +he rather pitied anyone who did not see eye to eye with him.</p> + +<p>"What ye say, Mrs. Larkins," he replied, "is very fine in theory. But the +question is, 'Will it pay?' Fer them as likes sich things they may study +'em to their hearts' content. But what do sich people amount to? I seen +the parson once stand fer a long time watchin' the settin' sun, an' when I +axed 'im what he saw he looked at me sorter dazed like. 'Mr. Farrington,' +sez he, 'I saw wonderful things to-night, past man's understandin'. I've +been very near to God, an' beheld the trailin' clouds of His glory!' +'Parson,' sez I, 'What will ye take fer yer knowledge? How much is it +worth? While ye've been gazin' out thar at that sunset I've been gazin' at +these letters, an' I find I'm better off by twenty-five dollars by gittin' +my eggs an' butter to market day afore yesterday, jist when the prices had +riz. That's what comes of gazin' at facts sich as price lists an' knowin' +how to buy an' sell at the right time. That's of more value than lookin' +at all the flowers an' sunsets in the world!' The parson didn't say +nuthin', but jist looked at me, while the men in the store haw-hawed right +out an' told the joke all round. Xo, you may find music in ripplin' water, +an' poetry in flowers, an' sunsets, as Phil Gadsby and the parson sez, but +give me the poetry of a price list, an' the music of good solid coin upon +my counter. Them's the things which tell, an' them's the things we want +taught in our schools."</p> + +<p>Just as Farrington finished, cries of fright fell upon their ears. Turning +quickly towards the dancers Mrs. Larkins noticed that most of them had +fallen back in little groups, leaving Stephen Frenelle and Dick Farrington +alone in the middle of the room. The attitude of the two left no doubt as +to the cause of the disturbance. With clenched fists they faced each other +as if about to engage in a fierce struggle. The former's eyes glowed with +an intense light, while his strained, white face betokened the agitated +state of his feelings.</p> + +<p>"Say that again!" he hissed, looking straight at his opponent. "Say it if +you dare!"</p> + +<p>Dick stood irresolute with the look of fear blanching his face at sight of +the angry form before him. While he hesitated and all held their breath, +Nellie Westmore moved swiftly forward, and laid a timid hand upon +Stephen's arm.</p> + +<p>"Stephen, Stephen!" she pleaded. "Stop! don't go any further! Be a man! +Come, let us go home!"</p> + +<p>Quickly he turned and looked into her eyes, and at that look the pallor +fled his face, leaving it flushed and abashed. His clenched hands relaxed, +and without a word he followed her to the door. As they donned their wraps +and passed out into the night, sighs of relief at the termination of this +startling incident were plainly heard. Dick gave a sarcastic laugh, and +the dance continued as if nothing unusual had happened.</p> + +<p>For a while neither Nellie nor Stephen spoke as they sped along the road, +drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare. The night was clear, and the +crescent moon rose high in the heavens. Not a breath of wind stirred the +trees, and the only sound which broke the silence was the jingling bells +keeping time to the horse's nimble feet.</p> + +<p>"He called me a fool and a pauper!" Stephen at length exclaimed. "Did you +hear him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," came the reply. "How could any one help hearing him?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have knocked him down if it hadn't been for you, Nellie."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you didn't, Stephen."</p> + +<p>"But I'll show him a thing or two. I'll get even with him yet. I'll teach +him to call me a fool and a pauper!"</p> + +<p>"Why not get more than even with him? You can do it without any trouble."</p> + +<p>Nellie spoke very impressively, and Stephen looked at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I know I can do that, for he's nothing but a clown. But what else can I +do?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that, Stephen. That is only getting even with your opponent +in brute fashion. You will only be putting yourself on an equality with +him. You want to get more than even, not by hitting back and returning +abuse for abuse. No, not that way, but by rising above him in manhood."</p> + +<p>"How? In what way, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Settle down to steady work. Redeem your home. Show Dick and the people of +Glendow that you are not a fool or a pauper, but a man. Oh, Stephen, we +want to be proud of you--and I do, too."</p> + +<p>"Do you, Nellie, really?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do, Stephen."</p> + +<p>For an instant only their eyes met. For an instant there was silence. But +in that instant, that mere atom of time, there opened up to Stephen a new +meaning of life. A virile energy rent the old husk of indifference, and a +yearning, startling in its intensity, stabbed his heart, to "make good," +to recover lost ground and to do something of which Nellie should be +proud.</p> + +<p>It was love--the golden key which had at last opened to the young man the +mystic door of life's great responsibility.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_09"></a>Chapter IX</h1> + +<h2>Beating the Devil</h2> + + + +<p>"Father, I am becoming uneasy about Dan."</p> + +<p>Parson John and Nellie were walking slowly along the road from the neat +little parish church. It was a Sunday morning. Not a breath of wind +stirred the balmy and spring-like air. A recent thaw had removed much of +the snow, leaving the fields quite bare, the roads slippery, and the ice +on the river like one huge gleaming mirror.</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" asked the parson. "What makes you uneasy about +Dan?"</p> + +<p>"He has been so restless of late."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he mind you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. He is always ready and anxious to do anything I ask him. But +there is a far-away look in his eyes, and sometimes he gives such a start +when I speak to him. His old life was so rough and stirring, that I fear +he misses it, and longs to be back there, again."</p> + +<p>"But he is interested in his studies, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to a certain extent. But not as much as formerly. It is hard for him +to settle down to steady work. He seems to be thinking and dreaming of +something else. I cannot understand him at all. I love the lad, and +believe he is much attached to us."</p> + +<p>"What do you think we had better do?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know, father. But you might take him with you sometimes on your +drives. He is passionately fond of Midnight, and it would liven him up. +Why not let him go with you to the funeral at Craig's Corner this +afternoon? He would be company for you, too."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not coming home until to-morrow. I expect to spend the night +there, and in the morning go overland to see the Stickles and take those +good things you have been making for the sick man. You will need Dan to +stay with you."</p> + +<p>"No, I shall be all right. Vivien Nelson has asked me to go there +to-night, so I shall get along nicely."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear," her father replied. "You are just like your mother, +always planning for someone else, and planning so well, too."</p> + +<p>Dan's heart thrilled with pride and delight as he sat by Parson John's +side and watched Midnight swinging along at her usual steady jog when +there was no special hurry. So intent was the one upon watching the horse, +and the other upon his sermon, that neither noticed a man driving a +spirited horse dart out from behind a sharp point on the left, and cut +straight across the river. It was old Tim Fraser, as big a rogue as +existed anywhere in the land. He was very fond of horses, and that winter +had purchased a new flier. He was an incessant boaster, and one day swore +that he could out-travel anything on the river, Midnight included. He laid +a wager to that effect, which was taken up by Dave Morehouse, who imagined +the race would never come off, for Mr. Westmore would have nothing to do +with such sport. Old Fraser, therefore, set about to meet Parson John, but +for some time had failed to make connection. Hearing about the funeral, he +was determined that the race should come off that very Sunday, and in the +presence of the mourners and their friends at that. He accordingly hid +behind Break-Neck Point, and with delight watched the parson drive up the +river, and at the right moment he started forth for the fray. As Fraser +swung into line and was about to pass, Midnight gave a great bound +forward, and it was all that Parson John could do to hold her in check, +for she danced and strained at the reins as her rival sped on ahead. At +length Fraser slowed down, dropped behind, and, just when Midnight had +steadied down, up he clattered again. This he did three times in quick +succession, causing Midnight to quiver with excitement, and madly to champ +the bit. At length the climax was reached, for the noble beast, hearing +again the thud of her opponent's hoofs, became completely unmanageable. +With a snort of excitement she laid low her head, took the bit firmly +between her teeth, and started up the river like a whirlwind. The more +Parson John shouted and tugged at the reins the more determined she +became. The ice fairly flew from beneath her feet, and the trailing froth +flecked her black hide like driving snow. Neck and neck the horses raced +for some time, while Fraser grinned with delight at the success of his +scheme.</p> + +<p>Before long the funeral procession came into view, making for the little +church near the graveyard on the opposite shore. Parson John was feeling +most keenly the position in which he was so unfortunately placed. He could +see only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to leave Fraser +behind. Therefore, before the first sleigh of the funeral procession was +reached he gave Midnight the reins, and thus no longer restrained she drew +gradually away from her opponent. On she flew, past the staring, gaping +people, and for a mile beyond the church.</p> + +<p>By this time Fraser was so far in the rear that he gave up the race. +Beaten and crestfallen he turned to the left, made for the shore and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>At length Parson John was able to bring Midnight under control, when she +trotted quietly down the river with a triumphant gleam in her handsome +eyes. After the funeral had been conducted, a group at once surrounded the +parson and questioned him concerning the strange occurrence on the river. +Some were pleased with Fraser's ignominious defeat, and treated it as a +huge joke. But others were sorely scandalized. What would the members of +the other church in Glendow say when they heard of it? To think that their +clergyman should be racing on the river, and on a Sunday, too, while on +his way to attend a funeral--the most solemn of all occasions!</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," continued the parson, after he had explained the +circumstance, "Fraser is a hard man to deal with, and in some ways I am +really glad it happened as it did."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" gasped several of the most rigid.</p> + +<p>"It's just this way," and a twinkle shone in the parson's eyes. "Five and +thirty years have I served in the sacred ministry of our Church. During +the whole of that time I have endeavoured to do my duty. I have faced the +devil on many occasions, and trust that in the encounters I did no +discredit to my calling. I have tried never to let him get ahead of me, +and I am very thankful he didn't do it this afternoon with Tim Fraser's +fast horse."</p> + +<hr> + +<p>Parson John had won the day, and the group dispersed, chuckling with +delight, and anxious to pass on the yarn to others.</p> + +<p>That same evening Mr. Westmore was seated comfortably in Jim Rickhart's +cosy sitting-room. The family gathered around in anticipation of a +pleasant chat, for the rector was a good talker, and his visit was always +an occasion of considerable interest. A few neighbours had dropped in to +hear the news of the parish, and the latest tidings from the world at +large. They had not been seated long ere a loud rap sounded upon the door, +and when it was opened, a man encased in a heavy coat entered.</p> + +<p>"Is Parson John here?" were his first words.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Rickhart replied. "He's in the sitting-room. Do you want to see +him? Is it a wedding, Sam? You look excited."</p> + +<p>"Should say not. It's more like a funeral. Old Tim Fraser's met with a bad +accident."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was drivin' home from the river this afternoon, when that new +horse of his shied, and then bolted. The sleigh gave a nasty slew on the +icy road, and upset. Tim was caught somehow, and dragged quite a piece. +He's badly broken up, and wants to see the parson."</p> + +<p>By this time Mr. Westmore had crossed the room, and stood before the +messenger. A startled look was in his eyes, as he peered keenly into Sam's +face.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, is it true what I hear," he questioned, "that Fraser has been +hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and wants you at once."</p> + +<p>"Is he seriously injured?"</p> + +<p>"Can't tell. They're goin' fer the doctor, but it'll be some time before +he can get there. It's a long way."</p> + +<p>"Poor Fraser! Poor Fraser!" murmured the parson. "He was a careless man. I +was bitter at him this afternoon, and now he is lying there. Quick, Dan, +get on your coat and hat; we must be off at once."</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to make ready, and soon Midnight was speeding +through the darkness. This time it was no leisurely jog, but the pace she +well knew how to set when her master was forth on important business. +Across the river she sped, then over hill and valley, which echoed with +the merry jingle of the bells. For some time Parson John did not speak, +and seemed to be intent solely upon Midnight.</p> + +<p>"Dan," he remarked at length, as they wound slowly up a steep hill, "it's +a mean thing, isn't it, to get many, many good things from someone, and +never do anything in return, and not even to say 'Thank you?'"</p> + +<p>The lad started at these words, and but for the darkness a flush would +have been seen upon his face. "What does the parson mean?" he thought. +"That was about what Farrington said. To get, and give nothing in return; +to be a sucker and a sponger."</p> + +<p>But the parson needed no reply. He did not even notice Dan's silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he continued; "it's a mean thing. But that's just what Tim Fraser's +been doing all his life. The good Lord has given him so many blessings of +health, home, fine wife and children, and notwithstanding all these +blessings, he's been ever against Him. He curses and swears, laughs at +religion, and you saw what he did this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"'Tis mean, awful mean," Dan replied, as the parson paused, and flicked +the snow with his whip. "But maybe he's sorry, now, that he's hurt."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he is, Dan. But it's a mean thing to give the best of life to +Satan, and to give the dregs, the last few days, when the body is too weak +to do anything, to the Lord. And yet I find that is so often done, and I'm +afraid it's the case now."</p> + +<p>When they reached Fraser's house they found great excitement within. Men +and women were moving about the kitchen and sitting-room trying to help, +and yet always getting into one another's way. Midnight was taken to the +barn, Dan was led into the kitchen to get warm, while the parson went at +once to the room where Tim was lying.</p> + +<p>Dan shrank back in a corner, for he felt much abashed at the sight of so +many strangers. He wanted to be alone--to think about what the parson had +said coming along the road. And so Fraser was a sponger, and a sucker too, +getting so many good things and giving nothing back. It was mean, and yet +what was he himself but a sponger? What was he doing for Nellie and Parson +John for what they were doing for him? They gave him a comfortable home, +fed, clothed, and taught him, and he was doing nothing to pay them back. +How disgusted his father would be if he only knew about it.</p> + +<p>For the life of him Dan could not have expressed these feelings to anyone. +He only knew that they ran through his mind like lightning, making him +feel very miserable. His cheeks flushed, and a slight sigh escaped his +lips as he sat crouched there in the corner with one small hand supporting +his chin. No one heeded him, for all were too much excited over the +accident to take any notice of a little boy.</p> + +<p>"I said that horse would be the death of him," he heard a woman exclaim. +"Tim's too old a man to drive such a beast as that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the beast's all right," an old man slowly replied, "but it was put to +a wrong use, that's where the trouble came."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Didn't you hear about what happened on the river this +afternoon? Tim went there on purpose to meet the parson, and strike up a +race. He's been boasting for some time that he would do it. The Lord has +given that man much rope, and has suffered him long. But this was too +much, and He's tripped him up at last."</p> + +<p>"Peter Brown," and the woman held up her hands in astonishment, "how can +you say such a thing about your old neighbour, and in his house, too, with +him lying there in that condition?"</p> + +<p>"I'm only saying what the rest know and think," was the calm reply. "I've +told Tim time and time again right to his face that the Lord would settle +with him some day. 'Tim,' said I, and it was not later than last fall that +I said it, 'Tim, the Lord has been good to you. He's blessed you in every +way. You've health, strength, and a good home. And what have you done for +Him? What have you given in return? Nothing. You curse, revile and scorn +Him on the slightest pretext. It's not only mean, Tim, but you'll get +punished some day, and don't you forget it.' But he only swore at me, and +told me to shut up and mind my own business and he would mind his. But my +words have come true, and I guess Tim sees it at last."</p> + +<p>Dan was sitting bolt upright now, with his hands clenched and eyes staring +hard at the speaker. The words had gone straight to his little heart, with +terrible, stinging intensity. This man was saying what Farrington and the +parson had said. It must be true. But the idea of the punishment was +something new. He had never thought of that before.</p> + +<p>And even as he looked, a silence spread throughout the room, for Parson +John was standing in the doorway. Upon his face an expression dwelt which +awed more than many words, and all at once realized that the venerable man +had just stepped from the solemn chamber of Death.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_10"></a>Chapter X</h1> + +<h2>In Camp</h2> + + +<p>Nestling snugly among large stately trees of pine and spruce, the little +log-cabin presented a picturesque appearance. Its one room, lighted by a +small window, served as kitchen, living and sleeping apartments combined. +It was warm, for the rough logs were well chinked with moss, while the +snow lay thick upon the roof and banked up around the sides. This cabin +had been recently built, and stood there by the little brook as an outward +and visible sign of an inward change in the heart and mind of one of +Glendow's sturdy sons.</p> + +<p>The night Stephen Frenelle left Nellie at the Rectory after the drive home +from the dance, he had fought one of those stern, fierce battles which +must come to all at some time in life. As Jacob of old wrestled all night +long for the mastery, so did Stephen in the silence of his own room. Sleep +fled his eyes as he paced up and down, struggling with the contending +thoughts which filled his heart. At times he clenched his hands and ground +his teeth together as he pictured Dick Farrington standing in the Hall, +hurling forth his taunting remarks. Then he longed for daylight to come +that he might go to his house, call him forth, and give him the thrashing +he so well deserved. He would drive that impudent, sarcastic smile from +his face, and make him take back his words. A voice seemed to say to him, +"Do it. <i>You must</i> do it if you consider yourself a man. He insulted +you to your face, and people will call you a coward if you allow it to +pass." But always there came to him that gentle touch on his arm; he heard +a voice pleading with him to be a man, and saw Nellie looking at him with +those large, beseeching eyes, and his clenched hands would relax. And thus +the battle raged; now this way, now that. Which side would win? When at +length the first streak of dawn was breaking far off in the eastern sky, +and Stephen came forth from the Chamber of Decision, there was no doubt as +to the outcome of the fight. His face bore the marks of the struggle, but +it also shone with a new light. When his mother and Nora came downstairs +they were astonished to see him up so early, the fire in the kitchen stove +burning brightly, and the cattle and sheep fed. Usually Stephen was hard +to arouse in the morning, and it was nearly noon before the chores were +finished, and then always in a half-hearted way. They looked at each +other, and wondered at the change which had taken place.</p> + +<p>Although Stephen had won a victory over himself, he was yet much puzzled. +He wished to redeem the homestead, but how should he set about the task? +As he waited that morning while breakfast was being prepared, this was the +great thought uppermost in his mind. He knew that when spring came there +was the farm to work. In the meantime, however, during the days of winter +when the ground was covered with snow, what could he do? Once aroused, it +was needful for him to set to work as soon as possible. Mechanically he +picked up the weekly paper lying on a chair and glanced carelessly at the +headlines set forth in bold type. As he did so his attention was arrested +by two words "Logs Wanted." He read the article through which told how the +price of lumber had suddenly advanced, and that logs were in great demand. +When Stephen laid down the paper and went into breakfast, the puzzle had +been solved. What about that heavy timber at the rear of their farm? No +axe had as yet rung there, no fire had devastated the place, and the trees +stood tall and straight in majestic grandeur. A brook flowed near which +would bear the logs down the river.</p> + +<p>His mother's and sister's hearts bounded with joy as Stephen unfolded to +them his plan. He would hire two choppers; one could go home at night, +while the other, old Henry, could live with him in the little camp he +would build. They would chop while he hauled the logs to the brook. Mrs. +Frenelle and Nora would do most of the cooking at home, and Stephen, would +come for it at certain times. Thus a new spirit pervaded the house that +day, and Mrs. Frenelle's heart was lighter than it had been for many +months. Stephen did not tell her the cause of this sudden change, but with +a loving mother's perception she felt that Nellie's gentle influence had +much to do with it all.</p> + +<p>One week later the cabin was built, the forest ringing with the sturdy +blows of axes and the resounding crash of some hoary pine or spruce. +Although the work was heavy, Stephen's heart was light. Not only did he +feel the zest of one who had grappled with life in the noble effort to do +the best he could, but he had Nellie's approbation. He drank in the +bracing air of the open as never before, and revelled in the rich perfume +of the various trees as he moved along their great cathedral-like aisles, +carpeted with the whitest of snow.</p> + +<p>The two choppers were kept busy from morning dawn to sunset. They were +skilled craftsmen, trained from early days in woodland lore. One, old +Henry, thoroughly enjoyed his work and at times snatches of a familiar +song fell from his lips as his axe bit deep into the side of some large +tree.</p> + +<p>"You did that well, Henry," Stephen one day remarked, as he watched a +monster spruce wing its way to earth with a terrific crash.</p> + +<p>"It's all in knowin' how," was the deliberate reply, as the old man began +to trim the prostrate form. "Now, a greenhorn 'ud rush in, an' hack an' +chop any old way, an' afore he knew what he was doin' the tree 'ud be +tumblin' down in the wrong place, an' mebbe right a-top of 'im at that. +But I size things up a bit afore I hit a clip. Havin' made up me mind as +to the best spot to fell her, I swing to, an' whar I pint her thar she +goes; that's all thar is about it."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't the wind bother you sometimes?" Stephen inquired.</p> + +<p>The chopper walked deliberately to the butt-end of the tree, and with the +pole of his axe marked off the length of the log. Then he moistened his +hands and drove the keen blade through the juicy bark deep into the wood.</p> + +<p>"I allow fer the wind, laddie," he replied, "I allow fer that. When the +good Lord sends the wind, sometimes from the North, sometimes from the +South, I don't go agin it. Why, what's the use of goin' agin His will, an' +it's all the same whether yer choppin' down a tree, or runnin' across the +sea of Life fer the great Port beyon'. That's what the parson says, an' I +guess he knows, though it seems to me that the poor man hisself has +head-winds aplenty jist now."</p> + +<p>Stephen asked no more questions then, being too busy. But that night, +after supper, as the old man was mending his mittens he sat down by his +side.</p> + +<p>"Henry," he began, "how is it that the parson has head-winds? Do you think +it's the Lord's will?"</p> + +<p>"'Tain't the Lord's will, laddie," was the slow response. "Oh no, 'tain't +His."</p> + +<p>"Whose, then?"</p> + +<p>"It's the devil's, that's whose it is, an' he's usin' sartin men in +Glendow as human bellows to blow his vile wind aginst that man of God. +That's what he's doin', an' they can't see it nohow."</p> + +<p>"And so you think the parson had nothing to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. +You think he is innocent?"</p> + +<p>"Think it, laddie? Think it? What's the use of thinkin' it when I know it. +Haven't I known Parson John fer forty years now. Can't I well remember +when his hair, which is now so white, was as black as the raven's wing. +An' why did it become white? I ax ye that. It's not old age which done it, +ah no. It's care an' work fer the people of Glendow, that's what's done +it. D'ye think I'd believe any yarn about a man that's been mor'n a father +to me an' my family? Didn't I see 'im kneelin' by my little Bennie's bed, +twenty years ago come next June, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks as +he axed the Good Lord to spare the little lad to us a while longer. Mark +my word, Stevie, them people who are tellin' sich stories about that man +'ill come to no good. Doesn't the Lord say in his great Book, 'Touch not +Mine anointed, an' do My prophets no harm?' My old woman often reads them +words to me, fer she's a fine scholar is Marthy. 'Henry,' says she, 'the +parson is the Lord's anointed. He's sot aside fer a holy work, an' it's a +risky bizness to interfere with sich a man.'"</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the speaker finished when the door of the cabin was pushed +suddenly open, and a queer little man entered. A fur cap was pulled down +over his ears, while across his left shoulder and fastened around his body +several times was a new half-inch rope.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Pete," Stephen exclaimed, "You look cold. Come to the stove and +get warm."</p> + +<p>"Y'bet I'm cold," was the reply. "My fingers and nose are most froze."</p> + +<p>"What's brought you away out here this time of the night?" questioned +Stephen, "I thought you liked the store too well to travel this far from +the fire."</p> + +<p>"Bizness, Steve, bizness," and the man rubbed his hands together, at the +same time taking a good survey of the cabin.</p> + +<p>"You look as if you were going to hang yourself, Pete, with all that rope +about your body. Surely you're not tired of living yet."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Steve. Not on your life. There'd be no fun in that, an' it's fun +I'm after this time."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you said you were out on business, and now you say it's +fun."</p> + +<p>"Bizness an' fun, me boy. Bizness an' fun; that's my motto. My bizness +this time is to pinch the Stickles' cow, an' the fun 'ill be to hear +Stickles, Mrs. Stickles an' the little Stickles squeal. Ha, ha! Bizness +an' fun, Steve. Bizness an' fun."</p> + +<p>"What! You're not going to take away the only cow the Stickles have left?" +cried Stephen in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Sure. It's the boss's orders, an' he doesn't mean fun, either. Nuthin' +but bizness with 'im; ah no, nuthin' but bizness."</p> + +<p>"Farrington is a mean rascal!" and Stephen leaped to his feet, his fists +clenched and his eyes flashing. "Hasn't he any heart at all? To think of +him taking the only cow from a poor family when the husband is sick in +bed! What does the man mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't git excited, me boy. It's only bizness, boss sez, only bizness. The +heart has nuthin' to do with that."</p> + +<p>"Business be blowed! It's vile meanness, that's what it is! And will you +help him out with such work?"</p> + +<p>"It's bizness agin, Steve. I've got to live, an' keep the missus an' +kiddies. What else is there fer a feller to do?"</p> + +<p>"But why is Farrington taking the cow in the winter time, Pete? Why +doesn't he wait until the summer, and give the Stickles a chance?"</p> + +<p>"It all on account of a woman's tongue. That's what's the trouble."</p> + +<p>"A woman's tongue?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a woman's tongue, an' ye know it's Mrs. Stickles' without me tellin' +ye. She told Tommy Jones, wot told Betty Sharp, wot told the boss, that +she was mighty glad the parson beat 'im at the auction. So the boss got +mad as blazes, an' has sent me fer the cow to pay what the Stickles owe +'im. That's all I know about it, lad, so good-bye to yez both, fer I must +be off. I'm to stay the night at Tommy Jones', an' in the mornin' will go +from there fer the cow. Bizness an' fun, Steve; bizness an' fun; don't +fergit that," and the little old man went off chuckling in high glee.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_11"></a>Chapter XI</h1> + +<h2>Guarding the Flock</h2> + + + +<p>It was nearing the noon hour, and the sun slanting through the forest +lifted into bold relief the trailing shadows of the stately trees. A +lively chickadee was cheeping from a tall spruce, and a bold camp-robber +was hopping in front of the cabin door picking up morsels of food which +were occasionally cast forth. Stephen was preparing dinner, and the +appetizing smell drifted out upon the air. Not far away, perched upon the +branch of a tree, a sleek squirrel was filling the air with his noisy +chattering and scolding. His bright little eyes sparkled with anger at the +big strange intruder into his domain, causing him to pour forth all the +vitriol of the squirrel vocabulary. Suddenly his noisy commotion ceased, +and he lifted his head in a listening attitude. Presently down the trail +leading to the main highway the sound of bells could be distinctly heard. +As they drew nearer their music filled the air, reverberating from hill to +hill and pulsing among the countless reaches of the great sombre forest. +Not a child in the parish of Glendow but knew that familiar sound, and +would rush eagerly into the house with the welcome tidings, for did it not +mean a piece of candy hidden away in most mysterious pockets, which seemed +never to be empty? How often in the deep of night tired sleepers in some +lonely farm-house had been awakened by their merry jingle, and in the +morning husband and wife would discuss the matter and wonder what sick +person Parson John had been visiting.</p> + +<p>The bells grew more distinct now and brought Stephen to the door. Soon +Midnight appeared swinging around a bend in the trail, with her fine neck +proudly arched, ears pointed forward, and her large eyes keen with +expectancy. The squirrel scurried away in a rage; the chickadee hopped to +a safe retreat, and even the saucy camp-robber considered it wise to flap +lazily to the top of the cabin.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you, Stephen," was Parson John's hearty greeting as he +held out his hand. "Dan and I are on our way to visit the Stickles, and +called in to see you in passing. What a snug place you have built here. I +trust you are getting along nicely."</p> + +<p>"Better than I expected," was the reply. "But, say, Parson, you're just in +time for dinner. Let me put Midnight in the barn. She won't object, at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"What! is it that late?" and the worthy man glanced at the sun. "Dear me, +how the time does fly! Well, then, if we will not be in the way I shall +enjoy it very much, for it has been many a day since I have dined in the +woods. But, wait," he cried, as Stephen was leading Midnight to the +stable, "There's a basket of stuff, some pies, and I don't know what else, +in the sleigh for hardy woodsmen, with Nellie's compliments. No, no, not +that basket. It's for the Stickles. The smaller one; I think you'll find +it in the back of the sleigh. There, that's it, with the green handle. It +takes a large basket for all the little Stickles!" and the parson gave a +hearty laugh.</p> + +<p>What a dinner they had in the little cabin that day. Never did meat taste +so good, and never did pie have such a delicious flavour as that which +Nellie had made. The table and stools were rough, the food served on +coarse dishes, and each one helped himself. But what did it matter? Their +appetites were keen and the parson a most entertaining visitor. He told +about the race on the river the day before, and of Tim Fraser's accident +and sudden death, to which the choppers listened with almost breathless +interest, at times giving vent to ejaculations of surprise.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry we have no milk to offer you," laughed Stephen, passing the +parson a cup of black tea. "But at any minute now a cow may be passing +this way and we might be able to obtain some."</p> + +<p>"A cow passing! I don't understand," and Mr. Westmore stirred the sugar in +his tea.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The Stickles are losing their only cow. Farrington has sent Pete +after her, and he should be along by this time."</p> + +<p>"Stephen," and Parson John's face changed from its genial expression to +one of severity, "do I understand you aright? Do you mean to tell me that +Farrington is taking the Stickles' only cow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm not joking. It's the solid truth. Pete stopped here on his way +out last night, and told us all about it."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" sighed the parson, placing his hand to his head. "When +will that man cease to be a thorn in the flesh? The Stickles are as honest +as the sun, and Farrington knows it. This business must be stopped. Dan +will you please bring out Midnight. We must hurry away at once."</p> + +<p>Soon the little cabin was left behind and they were swinging out along the +trail. The parson was quiet now. His old jocular spirit had departed, +leaving him very thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"The poor people! The poor people!" he ejaculated. "When will such things +cease? Why will men dressed in a little brief authority try to crush those +less fortunate? Dan, my boy, you may be a big man some day. You may get +money, but never forget the poor. Be kind to them rather than to the +powerful. They need kindness and sympathy, lad, more than others. My +parents were poor, and I know how they toiled and slaved to give me an +education. I well remember how they worked early and late until their +fingers were knotted and their backs bowed. They are the noble ones who +live in our midst, and though they may have little of this world's goods, +they have great souls and are the real salt of the earth. Never forget +that, boy."</p> + +<p>Dan did not know how to reply to these words, but sat very still watching +Midnight speeding on her way. The road wound for some distance through a +wooded region and over several hills. At length it entered upon a +settlement where the land was lean and rocks lifted their frowning heads +above the surface. The few houses were poor, standing out grey and gaunt +in the midst of this weird barrenness. But at every door Midnight was +accustomed to stop. Well did she know the little voices which welcomed +her, and the tiny hands which stroked her soft nose, or held up some +dainty morsel of bread, potatoes or grass. But to-day there was none of +this. She knew when the reins throbbed with an energy which meant hurry. +Past the gateways she clipped with those long steady strides over the icy +road, across a bleak stretch of country, down a valley, up a winding hill, +and then away to the right through a long narrow lane to a lone +farm-house.</p> + +<p>As they approached a commotion was observed near the barn. Soon the cause +was clearly manifest. Pete, assisted by someone, who proved to be Tommy +Jones, had his rope about the horns of a black and white cow, and was +endeavouring to lead her away. Mrs. Stickles and four little Stickles were +filling the air with their cries of anger and protest. The cow, frightened +by the noise, had become confused, and was trying to bolt towards the +barn. Pete was tugging at the rope, while his assistant was belabouring +her with a stout stick.</p> + +<p>"Ye brutes!" Mrs. Stickles was shouting at the top of her voice. "What +d'yez mean by thumpin' me poor Pansy in that way! But here comes the +Lord's avengin' angel, praise His holy name! Stop 'em, Parson!" she +shrieked, rushing towards the sleigh. "Smite 'em down, Parson, an' pray +the Lord to turn His hottest thunderbolt upon Si Farrington's head!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, woman," Mr. Westmore remonstrated. "Don't talk that way. +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay.'"</p> + +<p>By this time the refractory cow had been brought to a state of partial +subjection, and stood blinking at her captors as if uncertain what course +to pursue. Leaving the sleigh, Mr. Westmore strode over to where the three +were standing and laid his hand upon the rope.</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of this, Pete?" he asked. "Why are you troubling this +family?"</p> + +<p>"It's them that's troublin' me, sir," was the reply. "I'm jist here on +bizness, an' it's bizness I mean. If ye'll jist keep that whirlwind of a +woman away an' them squaking kids so I kin git this cratur clear of the +barn-yard, she'll walk like a daisy."</p> + +<p>"But why are you taking the animal? Don't you know it's their only cow, +and it's very important that Mr. Stickles, who is sick in bed, should have +fresh milk every day?"</p> + +<p>"That's not my bizness, Parson. My bizness is to git the cow; so stand +clear if ye please, fer I want to git away. I'm late as 'tis."</p> + +<p>"Hold a minute, Pete," and the parson laid a firmer hand upon the rope. +"Who sent you here after this cow?"</p> + +<p>"The boss, of course."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"And he wants the cow in payment of a debt, does he?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so. But that ain't none of my bizness. My bizness is to git the +cow."</p> + +<p>"How much is the debt, anyway?" the parson asked, turning to Mrs. +Stickles, who was standing near with arms akimbo.</p> + +<p>"Twenty dollars, sir. No mor'n twenty dollars. Not one cent more, an' +Tony'll pay every cent when he comes from the woods."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Pete," and the parson turned towards the latter, "unfasten +this cow, and go back to your master. Tell him that I will be responsible +for the debt, and that he shall have the full amount as soon as I get +home."</p> + +<p>But Pete shook his head, and began to gather up the loose end of the rope +into a little coil in his left hand.</p> + +<p>"That ain't the 'boss's order, sir. 'Fetch her, Pete,' sez he, 'an' let +nuthin' stop ye. If they hev the money to pay, don't take it. The cow's of +more value to me than money.' Them's his very orders."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see, I see," Mr. Westmore remarked, as a stern look crossed his +face, and his eyes flashed with indignation. "It's not the money your +master wants, but only the pound of flesh."</p> + +<p>"Boss didn't say nuthin' 'bout any pound of flesh. He only said 'the cow,' +an' the cow he'll git if Pete Davis knows anything."</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash Parson John's hand dove deep into his capacious pocket. +He whipped out a clasp-knife, opened it, and with one vigorous stroke +severed the rope about one foot from the cow's head.</p> + +<p>"There!" he cried to the staring, gaping Pete. "Take that rope to your +master, and tell him what I have done. Leave the matter to me. I alone +will be responsible for this deed."</p> + +<p>The appearance of Mr. Westmore at this moment was enough to awe even the +most careless. His gigantic form was drawn to its fullest height. His +flashing eyes, turned full upon Pete's face, caused that obsequious menial +to fall back a step or two. Even a blow from the parson's clenched fist +just then would not have been a surprise. His spirit at this moment was +that of the prophets of old, and even of the Great Master Himself, +upholding justice and defending the cause of the poor and down-trodden.</p> + +<p>For an instant only they faced each other. Then, Pete's eyes dropped as +the eyes of an abashed dog before his master. He stooped for the rope, +which had fallen to the ground, and slowly gathered it into a little coil. +But still he maintained his ground.</p> + +<p>"Are you going?" demanded the parson.</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the surly response. "I'm goin', but remember you hev +interfered with Si Farrington's lawful bizness, so beware! I'll go an' +tell 'im what ye say. Oh, yes, I'll go, but you'll hear from 'im again. +Oh, yes, ye'll hear."</p> + +<p>"Let 'im come 'imself next time fer the cow," spoke up Mrs. Stickles, who +had been silently watching the proceedings. "I'd like fer 'im to come. I'd +like to git me fingers into his hair an' across his nasty, scrawny face. +That's what I'd like to do."</p> + +<p>"Hold yer tongue!" shouted Pete, "an'----"</p> + +<p>"There now, no more of that," commanded Mr. Westmore. "We've had too many +words already, so take yourself off."</p> + +<p>They watched him as he moved down the lane to the road. He was followed by +Tommy Jones, who had stood through it all with mouth wide open, and eyes +staring with astonishment. When they were at length clear of the place the +parson gave a sigh of relief, and across his face flitted a smile--like +sunshine after storm.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_12"></a>Chapter XII</h1> + +<h2>Light and Shadow</h2> + + + +<p>Upon entering the house Mr. Westmore divested himself of his great-coat, +and stood warming himself by the kitchen fire, while Mrs. Stickles bustled +around, smoothing down the bedclothes and putting the room to rights in +which her sick husband lay. The kitchen floor was as white as human hands +could make it, and the stove shone like polished ebony. Upon this a kettle +steamed, while underneath a sleek Maltese cat was curled, softly purring +in calm content.</p> + +<p>Dan, assisted by the little Stickles, stabled Midnight, after which he was +conducted over to the back of the barn to enjoy the pleasure of coasting +down an icy grade. The only sound, therefore, was Mrs. Stickles' voice in +the next room as she related to "her man" the wonderful events which had +just taken place. A slight smile of pleasure crossed the parson's face as +he listened to her words and thought of the big honest heart beneath that +marvellous tongue. The sun of the winter day was streaming through the +little window and falling athwart the foot of the bed as Mr. Westmore +entered the room and grasped the sick man's white, outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"God bless ye, sir," exclaimed Mr. Stickles, "fer what ye hev done fer me +an' mine to-day. It ain't the first time by a long chalk. The Lord will +reward ye, even if I can't."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man, don't mention it," Mr. Westmore replied as he took a seat +by the bed. "And how are you feeling to-day, Mr. Stickles?"</p> + +<p>"Only middlin', Parson, only middlin'. Simply joggin', simply joggin'."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles seated herself in a splint-bottomed chair, and picked up her +knitting which had been hurriedly dropped upon the arrival of Pete Davis. +How her fingers did work! It was wonderful to watch them. How hard and +worn they were, and yet so nimble. The needles flew with lightning +rapidity, clicking against one another with a rhythmical cadence; the +music of humble, consecrated work. But when Mr. Westmore began to tell +about Tim Fraser, and his sudden death, the knitting dropped into her lap, +and she stared at the speaker with open-eyed astonishment.</p> + +<p>"An' do ye mean to tell me," she exclaimed, when the parson had finished, +"that Tim Fraser is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's only too true, Mrs. Stickles. Poor man--poor man!"</p> + +<p>"Ye may well call 'im poor, Parson, fer I'm thinkin' that's jist what he +is at this blessed minute. He's in a bad way now, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Marthy," her husband remonstrated. "We must not judge too +harshly."</p> + +<p>"I'm not, John, I'm not, an' the parson knows I'm not. But if Tim isn't +sizzlin', then the Bible's clean wrong," and the needles clicked harder +than ever.</p> + +<p>"It teaches us the uncertainty of life," replied Mr. Westmore. "It shows +how a man with great strength, and health can be stricken down in an +instant. How important it is to be always ready when the call does come."</p> + +<p>"Ye're right, Parson, ye're surely right," and Mrs. Stickles stopped to +count her stitches. "Wasn't John an' me talkin' about that only last +night. I was readin' the Bible to 'im, an' had come to that story about +poor old Samson, an' his hard luck."</p> + +<p>"'It's very strange,' sez John, sez he to me, 'that when Samson lost his +hair he lost his great strength, too. I can't unnerstan' it nohow.'"</p> + +<p>"'Why, that's simple enough,' sez I to 'im. 'The Lord when He let Samson's +strength rest in his hair jist wanted to teach 'im how unsartin a thing +strength is. 'Why, anyone can cut off yer hair,' sez I, 'an' ye know, +John,' sez I, 'ye don't allus have to cut it off, either, fer it falls out +like yourn, John--fer yer almost bald.' Ain't them the exact words I said, +John, an' only last night at that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marthy. That's just what ye said, an' we see how true it is. Tim +Fraser was a powerful man as fer as strength an' health goes, but what did +it all amount to? He lost it as quick as Samson of old. Ah, yes, a man's a +mighty weak thing, an' his strength very unsartin, an' hangs by a slender +thread. Look at me, parson. Once I was able to stan' almost anything, an' +here I be a useless log--a burden to meself an' family."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, John, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Stickles wiping her eyes +with her apron. "Ye know ye ain't a bother. Yer as patient as a fly in +molasses. The fly is thar an' can't help it, an' so are you, John. It's +the Lord's will, an' ye've often said so. He'll look after me an' the +little ones. He's never forsaken us yit, an' I guess He won't if we stick +to 'im."</p> + +<p>"Your children are certainly a credit to you, Mrs. Stickles," remarked Mr. +Westmore. "You should be proud of them."</p> + +<p>"I am, sir, indeed I am," and the worthy woman's face beamed with +pleasure. "But it takes a lot of 'scretion, Parson, to handle a big +family. I've often said to John that children are like postage-stamps. +They've got to be licked sometimes to do the work they were intended to +do. But if ye lick 'em too much, ye spile 'em. Oh, yes, it takes great +'scretion to bring up a family."</p> + +<p>"You certainly have used great discretion," replied Parson John, much +amused at Mrs. Stickles' words. "I suppose those who are working out are +just as dear as the four little ones at home?"</p> + +<p>"They're all dear to me, sir, all dear. I kin count 'em all on me ten +fingers, no more an' no less. Now some fingers are larger than t'others, +and some smaller, an' some more useful than t'others an' do more work, but +I couldn't part with one. So as I often tell John our children are jist +like me ten fingers. I couldn't do without one of 'em--ah, no, bless their +dear hearts."</p> + +<p>The sound of little feet and childish voices caused them to look towards +the kitchen. There they beheld the four little Stickles, with Dan in the +midst, standing in a row by the stove.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the parson, rising and going towards them. "So here +you are, as fresh and active as ever."</p> + +<p>Diving deep into his pocket he brought forth a generous piece of home-made +candy.</p> + +<p>"Sweets for the sweet," he cried. "Now, who's to have this?"</p> + +<p>At once a rush ensued and four little forms surrounded him.</p> + +<p>"Wait, wait; not yet!" and the good man held the candy aloft. "Nothing +given away here. You must earn every bit. All in a row now. There, that's +better," and he lined them up, like a veteran schoolmaster, proud of his +little class. "Come, I want your names. You begin," and he tapped the +nearest to him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"John Medley Stickles, sir," came the quick reply.</p> + +<p>"A good name, my little man," and the parson patted him on the head. "May +you be worthy of your namesake, that noble man of God--the first Bishop of +this Diocese. Now next," and he pointed to the second little Stickles.</p> + +<p>"Benjamin Alexander Stickles, sir,"</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha. Named after your two grandfathers. Fine men they were, too. Now +my little maiden, we'll hear from you."</p> + +<p>"Martha Trumpit Stickles, sir," came the shy response.</p> + +<p>"That's a good name, my dear, after your mother--and with her eyes, too. +Just one more left. Come, my dear, what have you to say?"</p> + +<p>"Ruth Wethmore Stickles, thir, if you pleath," lisped the little lass, +with her eyes upon the floor.</p> + +<p>At these words the parson paused, as if uncertain what to say. "Ruth, the +gleaner," he at length slowly remarked. "Ruth Westmore. Ah, Mrs. Stickles, +I little thought that day my dear wife stood sponsor for your baby here, +and gave her her own name, how soon she would be taken from us. Four +years--four long years since she went home. But come, but come," he +hurriedly continued, noticing Mrs. Stickles about to place her apron to +her eyes. "I have a question to ask each little one here, and then +something is coming. Look, John, answer me, quick. How many Commandments +are there?"</p> + +<p>"Ten, sir," came the ready reply.</p> + +<p>"What is the fifth one?"</p> + +<p>"Honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which +the Lord thy God giveth thee."</p> + +<p>"That's good, that's good. Don't forget that, my little man. The first +commandment with promise. I taught your brother Tony that when he was a +little lad, and I'm sure he hasn't forgotten it. Now, Bennie, what two +things do we learn from these commandments?"</p> + +<p>"My duty towards God, an' my duty towards my neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Right, right you are. Now, Martha, what were you made at your baptism?"</p> + +<p>"A member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the Kingdom of +Heaven."</p> + +<p>"Well done. I thought that would stick you, but I see you have learned +your lesson well! It's Ruth's turn now. Can you tell me, my dear, what +happened on Good Friday?"</p> + +<p>"Jesus died, thir, on the Croth."</p> + +<p>"And what took place on Easter Day?"</p> + +<p>"He roth from the grave, thir."</p> + +<p>"Good, good. Always remember that. Good Friday and Easter Day come very +near together. 'Earth's saddest day and brightest day are just one day +apart.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles' face beamed with pleasure as the parson praised the little +class, and gave a piece of candy to each. Then he drew from his pocket a +small package wrapped in white tissue paper tied with a piece of pink +ribbon, and held it up before the wondering eyes of the little Stickles.</p> + +<p>"From Nellie," he remarked. "Candy she made herself for the one who can +best say the verses on the Christian Year she gave you to learn some time +ago. Now, who can say them all through without one mistake?"</p> + +<p>Instantly four little hands shot up into the air, and four pairs of +sparkling eyes were fixed eagerly upon the coveted treasure.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bennie, we'll try you," said the parson. "Stand up straight, and +don't be afraid to speak out."</p> + +<blockquote> "Advent tells us Christ is here,<br> + Christmas tells us Christ is near--"</blockquote> + +<p>"Hold, hold!" cried Mr. Westmore. "Try again."</p> + +<p>But the second attempt proving worse than the first, it was passed on to +Martha. Bravely the little maiden plunged into the intricacies of the two +first verses, but became a total wreck upon the third. Try as she might +the words would not come, and tears were in her eyes when at length she +gave up the attempt and waited for John Medley to conquer where she had +failed. But alas! though starting in bravely he mixed Epiphany and Advent +so hopelessly that the parson was forced to stop his wild wanderings.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" Mr. Westmore exclaimed. "What are we to do? Surely +Ruth can do better than this."</p> + +<p>With hands clasped demurely before her and her eyes fixed upon the floor, +slowly the little maiden began to lisp forth the words while the rest +listened in almost breathless silence.</p> + +<blockquote> "Advent telth uth Christ ith near;<br> + Christmath telth uth Christ ith here;<br> + In Epithany we trath<br> + All the glory of Hith grath."</blockquote> + +<p>Thus steadily on she lisped through verse after verse, and when the last +was completed a sigh of relief was heard from Mrs. Stickles, while the +parson clapped his hands with delight. How her eyes did sparkle as he +handed her the little package, with a few words of encouragement, and how +longingly the three others looked upon the treasure.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Mr. Westmore, "we must be away. Nellie will wonder what has +become of us."</p> + +<p>"Not yet, sir, not yet!" cried Mrs. Stickles. "You must have a cup of tea +first.' The water is bilin', an' it'll be ready in a jiffy. Did ye give +Midnight any hay?" she demanded, turning to Bennie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma!" came the reply. "I fergot all about it."</p> + +<p>"There now, it's jist like ye. Hurry off this minute and give that poor +critter some of that good hay from the nigh loft."</p> + +<p>As the little Stickles and Dan scurried out of the room, Ruth still +clutching her precious package, Mrs. Stickles turned to Mr. Westmore.</p> + +<p>"There now, Parson, ye jist must wait, an' have that cup of tea, an' some +of my fresh bread. We shan't tech Nellie's pies an' cake, cause ye kin hev +her cookin' any time, bless her dear heart. How I wish she was here +herself so I could look into her sweet face an' tell her meself how +grateful I am."</p> + +<p>Hardly had the parson seated himself at the table ere several piercing +shrieks fell upon his ears. Rushing to the door he beheld John Medley +hurrying towards the house with arms at right angles, and his face as pale +as death.</p> + +<p>"Child! Child! What is it?" shouted Mrs. Stickles.</p> + +<p>"R-r-uth's k-k-illed! She f-f-ell from the la-la-der. Oh! Oh!"</p> + +<p>Waiting to hear no more they hurried to the barn, and there they found the +little form lying on the floor, still grasping in her hand the precious +package.</p> + +<p>"My poor lamb! My darlin' baby! are ye kilt, are ye kilt?" wailed Mrs. +Stickles, kneeling down by her side. "Speak to me, my lamb, my little +baby! Oh, speak to yer mammy!"</p> + +<p>But no sign of recognition came from the prostrate child. Seeing this the +mother sprang to her feet and wrung her hands in agony of despair.</p> + +<p>"What will we do? Oh, what kin we do? My baby is kilt--my poor darlin'! +Oh--oh--oh!"</p> + +<p>Tenderly Parson John lifted the child in his arms, carried her into the +house, and laid her on the settle near the stove. It was found that she +was breathing, and soon a little water brought some color into her face. +Presently she opened her eyes, and started up, but fell back again, with a +cry of pain, fiercely clutching the package.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?" asked the parson. "Where is the pain?"</p> + +<p>"My leg! My leg!" moaned the child.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I feared so," exclaimed Mr. Westmore, after a brief examination. "We +must have the doctor at once. Is there anyone near who will go for him, +Mrs. Stickles?"</p> + +<p>"Not a man, sir, that's fit to go. They're all in the woods. Oh, what kin +we do!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Mrs. Stickles," was the reassuring reply. "Midnight will go, +and I will hold the reins. Come, Dan, the horse, quick."</p> + +<p>As Midnight drew up to the door a few minutes later, Parson John came out +of the house and affectionately patted the sleek neck of the noble animal.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Midnight," he said, "you must do your best to-day. It's for the +sake of the little lass, and she was getting hay for you. Don't forget +that."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_13"></a>Chapter XIII</h1> + +<h2>For the Sake of a Child</h2> + + + +<p>Night had shut down over the land as Midnight, with her long, swinging +strides, clipped through the lighted streets of the prosperous little +railway town of Bradin, and drew up at old Doctor Leeds' snug house. A +fast express had just thundered shrieking by. A strong, cutting wind +racing in from the Northeast was tearing through the sinuous telegraph +wires with a buzzing sound, the weird prelude of a coming storm.</p> + +<p>The worthy doctor was at home, having only lately returned from a long +drive into the country. He and his wife, a kindly-faced little woman, were +just sitting down to their quiet meal. Seldom could they have an evening +together, for the doctor's field was a large one and his patients +numerous.</p> + +<p>"You have no engagement for to-night, I hope, Joseph," remarked his wife, +as she poured the tea.</p> + +<p>"No, dear," was the reply. "I expect to have one evening at home, and I'm +very glad of it, too. I'm weary to-night, and am longing for my arm-chair, +with my papers and pipe."</p> + +<p>A sharp knock upon the door aroused them, and great was their surprise to +see the venerable Rector of Glendow enter.</p> + +<p>"Parson John!" cried the doctor, rushing forward and grasping his old +friend's hand. "It's been months since I've seen you. What lucky event +brought you here to-night? Did you miss the train? If so, I'm glad. My +chessmen are moulding for want of use."</p> + +<p>But the parson shook his head and briefly told of the accident in the +barn.</p> + +<p>"And so the little lass is in trouble, hey? More worry for Mrs. Stickles."</p> + +<p>"And you will be able to go to-night, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Sweepstakes hasn't been on the road for two days, and is keen +for a good run."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Leeds, "are you able to go? You have +been driving all day, and must be very tired. Why not rest a little +first?"</p> + +<p>"And let the poor child suffer that much longer! Not a bit of it."</p> + +<p>"I have heard doctors say," remarked the parson, as he and Dan sat down to +their supper, "that they get so hardened to suffering that at last it does +not affect them at all. I am glad it is not true with you."</p> + +<p>"The older I get," replied the doctor thoughtfully, stirring his tea, "the +more my heart aches at the pains and sufferings of others, especially in +little children. As soon as I hear of someone in distress I can never rest +until I reach his or her side. There always comes to me a voice urging me +to make haste. Even now I seem to hear that child calling to me. She is a +sweet, pretty lass, and how often have I patted her fair little head, and +to think of those blue eyes filled with tears, that tiny face drawn with +pain, and her whole body writhing in agony. However, you know all about +this, Parson, so what's the use of my talking."</p> + +<p>"But I am glad to hear you speak as you do, Doctor. Over thirty years have +I been in Glendow, and I become more affected by suffering the older I +get."</p> + +<p>The doctor looked keenly into Mr. Westmore's face, as if trying to read +his inmost thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever become weary of your work?" he at length asked. "Do you not +long for a more congenial field?"</p> + +<p>"I have often been asked that question, Doctor," the parson slowly +replied, "but not so much of late. I am getting old now, and young men are +needed, so I am somewhat forgotten. However, I am glad that this is so. +Years ago when a tempting offer came to me from some influential parish, +though I always refused, it disturbed me for days, until the matter was +finally settled. Now I do not have such distractions, and am quite happy. +In the quiet parish of Glendow I find all that the heart can desire. The +labour to me becomes no more monotonous than the work of parents with +their children. They often are weary in their toil for their little ones, +but not weary of it. The body gives out at times, but not the love in the +heart. And so I always find something new and fresh in my work which gives +such a relish to life. I have baptized most of the young people in this +parish, I have prepared them for Confirmation, given them their first +Communion, and in numerous cases have joined their hands in holy wedlock. +Some may long for a greater field and a wealthy congregation. But, +remember, as the sun in the heavens may be seen as clearly in the tiny +dewdrop as in the great ocean, so I can see the glory of the Father +shining in these humble parishioners of mine, especially so in the +children of tender years, as in the great intellects. As for travelling +abroad to see the world and its wonders, I find I can do it more +conveniently in my quiet study among my books. At a very small cost I can +wander to all parts of the world, without the dangers and inconveniences +of steamers and railroads. As to studying human nature, it is to be found +in any parish. Carlyle well said that 'any road, this simple Entepfuhl +road, will lead you to the end of the world,' and was it not the quaint +and humble-minded Thoreau who expressed himself in somewhat the same way:</p> + +<blockquote> "'If with Fancy unfurled,<br> + You leave your abode,<br> + You may go round the world,<br> + By the Marlboro road.'"</blockquote> + +<p>The doctor rose from the table and grasped Mr. Westmore's hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for those words," he said. "I have thought of those very things +so often, and you have expressed my ideas exactly. I must now be away. You +will stay all night, for I wish to have a good chat with you upon my +return."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," the parson replied, "but we must be off as soon as +possible. My daughter is all alone and will be quite uneasy by my long +absence. We shall go home by the way of Flett's Corner, and thus save +three miles. But look, Doctor, don't send your bill to the Stickles. Send +it to me. Now be sure."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man. Don't worry about the bills of others. Leave this matter +to me. The Stickles won't have any cause for anxiety about the bill, and +why should you? It's paid already."</p> + +<p>What a noble picture these two men presented as they stood there! Both had +grown old in a noble service for their fellow-men, and truly their grey +heads were beautiful crowns of glory. One had charge of the cure of souls, +the other of bodies, and yet there was no clashing. Each respected the +work of the other, and both were inspired with the high motive which lifts +any profession or occupation above the ordinary--the Christ-like motive of +love.</p> + +<p>Parson John remained for some time after the doctor had left, chatting +with Mrs. Leeds, and when at length Midnight started on her homeward way +it was quite late. They had not advanced far before the storm which had +been threatening swept upon them. Although the night was dark, the roadbed +was firm and Midnight surefooted. As they scudded forward the wind howled +through the trees and dashed the snow against their faces. They fled by +farm-houses and caught fleeting glimpses of the bright, cosy scenes +within. Twice they met belated teams plodding wearily homeward. Without +one touch of rein, or word of command, each time Midnight slowed down, +swerved to the left and swung by. It was only when the dim, dark forms of +the panting steeds loomed up for an instant on their right, and then +disappeared into the blackness, were they aware of their presence. +Occasionally the road wound for a mile or more through a wooded region, +and in such places they found peace and shelter. Here the wind could not +reach them, although they could hear its wild ravings in the tree-tops +above. The snow came softly, silently down, and, although they could not +see it falling, they could feel it flecking their faces and knew it was +weaving its mystic robe over their bodies. In one place such as this a +faint glimmer of light struggled through the darkness a short distance +from the road.</p> + +<p>"It's Stephen's cabin," the parson remarked. "It is a snug place on a +night like this. I wonder what he is doing now. I wish we had time to call +to give him a word of cheer."</p> + +<p>About two hundred yards beyond the cabin they left the main highway and +entered upon a lumber road. This latter was used in the winter time in +order to avoid a large hill on the former and the huge drifts which piled +from fence to fence. At first Midnight slowed down to a walk, but at +length, becoming a little impatient to get home, she broke into a gentle +trot. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the sleigh gave a great lurch, and +before a hand could be raised Dan found himself shooting over the parson +and falling headlong into the soft yielding snow. Recovering himself as +quickly as possible, and brushing the snow from his mouth, ears and eyes, +he groped around to ascertain what had happened. Away in the distance he +could hear a crashing sound as Midnight hurried along with the overturned +sleigh. Then all was still. He called and shouted, but received no reply. +A feeling of dread crept over him, and at once he started to walk back to +the road. He had advanced but a few steps, however, when he stumbled and +half fell over a form which he knew must be that of Parson John. He put +out his hand and felt his coat. Then he called, but all in vain. Hastily +fumbling in his pockets he drew forth several matches and tried to strike +a light. His little hands trembled as he did so, and time and time again a +draught blew out the tiny flame. In desperation he at length kneeled down +upon the snow, sheltered the match with his coat, and ere long had the +satisfaction of seeing the flame grow strong and steady. Carefully he held +it up and the small light illumined the darkness for the space of a few +feet around. Then it fell upon the prostrate form at his side. It touched +for an instant the old man's face, oh, so still and white, lying there in +the snow; and then an awful blackness. The light had gone out!</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_14"></a>Chapter XIV</h1> + +<h2>The Long Night</h2> + + + +<p>As Dan stood there in the darkness with snow to his knees, clutching +between his fingers the extinguished match, the helplessness of his +position dawned upon him. What had happened to the parson he could easily +guess, for the place was full of old stumps, half protruding from beneath +the snow. No doubt he had struck one of these in the fall. But of the +result of the blow he could not tell, for placing his ear close down to +the face he tried to detect some sign of life, but all in vain. Suppose +the parson had been killed! He thought of Nellie, waiting anxiously at the +Rectory. How could he tell her what had happened? Suddenly a new sense of +responsibility came to him. Something must be done as quickly as possible, +and he was the only one to do it. He thought of Stephen's cabin, which +they had passed a short time before. He could obtain help there, and he +must go at once. Taking off his own outer coat he laid it carefully over +the prostrate man, and then struggled back to the road. Having reached +this he imagined it would not take him long to cover the distance. But he +soon found how difficult was the undertaking, and what a task it was to +keep the road on such a night. The blackness was intense, and the snow, +which all the time had been steadily falling, added to the difficulty. +Every few steps he would plunge off into the deep snow, and flounder +around again until he had regained the solid footing. The distance, which +was not more than a mile, seemed never-ending. Still he plodded on, the +thought of that silent form lying in the snow inspiring him with extra +energy. At length, much exhausted, a welcome glimmer of light winged its +way through the darkness. Dan's heart leaped within him. The place was +near, and Stephen had not yet gone to bed. Panting heavily, and struggling +unsteadily, he crept slowly forward, reached the door and pounded fiercely +upon it with both doubled-up fists.</p> + +<p>Slowly the door was opened, and great was Stephen's surprise to see the +little snow-covered figure standing before him.</p> + +<p>"Help! Come quick!" gasped Dan.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" Stephen demanded, dragging the boy into the cabin. +"Where's the parson?"</p> + +<p>"Over there--in the snow--in the woods!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said Stephen, noticing how weary and excited was the little +lad. "Tell me now all about it."</p> + +<p>Quickly and briefly Dan related about the drive through the storm, the +accident on the "cut off," and Parson John's fall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" Stephen groaned when he had heard the story. "What will Nellie +think? What will she say? It will break her heart! I must be off at once!"</p> + +<p>Reaching for the lantern his hand trembled as he lighted it.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he commanded, "till I hitch Dexter to the pung; or no, you'd +better come with me and give a hand. There is no time to lose."</p> + +<p>Dan obeyed without a word and held the lantern while Stephen harnessed the +horse.</p> + +<p>"Where's Midnight?" Stephen asked, as he deftly drew the reins through the +terrets.</p> + +<p>"She ran away. I heard the sleigh crashing after her as she ran."</p> + +<p>"She'll kill herself! But no, she's too wise for that. She'll go home and +whinny at the door, and then what will Nellie think! We must hurry along +as fast as possible. She will he frantic with fear."</p> + +<p>"Guess we'd better bring the parson back to your place," Dan remarked as +Dexter swung down the road.</p> + +<p>"Bring him to my place!" exclaimed Stephen in surprise. "What can we do +for him there?"</p> + +<p>"Won't he need the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he may. But we can't go all the way to Bradin now."</p> + +<p>"Guess you won't have to do that."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He's at the Stickles'."</p> + +<p>"At the Stickles'?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. The little girl got hurt, so we went after the doctor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see--I see now," Stephen mused. "That's a different matter. It's +only three miles to the Stickles'. But the road will be bad to-night, for +the wind's across country, and the drifts there pile fast and deep. But I +shall go if necessary, even if I have to crawl on all fours. I won't have +to do that, though, for Dexter will take me through if any horse can."</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to cover the one mile of road between the cabin +and the place where the accident had occurred. By the light of the lantern +it was not difficult to find the spot. An uncanny feeling crept over them +as they drew near, and saw the parson lying there in the snow just as Dan +had left him. With the lantern in his hand Stephen leaped from the pung +and looked intently into the face of the prostrate man. It did not take +him long to ascertain that life still remained in his body, and a prayer +of thankfulness went up from his heart as he thought of the dear old man +and the anxious Nellie.</p> + +<p>Quickly and as carefully as possible they lifted him into the pung, +covered him with a warm robe, and then sped back to the cabin. As soon as +they had laid him upon the bed, Stephen reached for a heavy coat hanging +on the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'm off now," he said. "You keep watch. I'll be back as soon as I can."</p> + +<p>The injured man lay perfectly motionless, to all outward appearance dead. +Dan stood looking at him for some time after Stephen had left, puzzled and +bewildered. What could he do? What would Nellie think of him now? He sank +upon the stool by the bedside And buried his face in his hands--a forlorn +little creature, trying to think. Presently he glanced towards the bed, +and gazed long and intently upon the parson's face. Many were the thoughts +which crowded into his mind as he sat there. A deep affection for the old +man had sprung up in his heart. To him he was like some superior being +with his great strength and wonderful knowledge. Then to think he should +care for him, Dan Flitter, so small, who could neither read nor write, who +was nothing but a sponger. The thought of Farrington's insult came to him, +and what he had said about the parson. It had rankled continually in his +breast, and now it arose in greater force than ever. Why were the people +saying such things about this good man? He had listened to men talking in +the store and along the road. They had said and hinted many things, and he +had been silent. But, though silent, his mind and heart had been at work. +Often while lying in his little bed at night he had brooded over the +matter. He longed to do something to clear the parson, and show the people +that they were wrong. But what could he do? They would not listen to him. +They hinted that the parson had stolen the gold, and what could he say? It +needed more than words. These were the thoughts which had been beating +through his brain for days, giving him at times that listless manner, +far-away look, and lack of interest in his studies, which worried Nellie +so much. So sitting on guard by the injured man's side this night with +large, dreamy eyes, thoughtful face--more thoughtful than ordinary for a +child of his age--he recalled the various scenes since the night of the +fire. Suddenly his face flushed, the dreamy expression faded from his +eyes, as the dim light of dawn is dispersed by the fulness of day. They +shone with a new radiance as he turned them upon the parson's face. He +rose to his feet and walked quickly up and down the room. He was once +again a creature of the wild. The glory of a lofty purpose fired his +blood. He had experienced it before when, out in the woods, he had +followed the tracks of the nimble deer, or listened to the whirr of the +startled pigeon. But now it was a nobler chase, a loftier purpose, in +which the honour of a faithful friend was at stake.</p> + +<p>A sound from the bed startled him. Glancing quickly in that direction he +noticed the lips of the wounded man moving. No sign of consciousness, +however, did he give. He was in another world, the strange, mysterious +world, where the mind roams at will and language flows from the +fountain-head of the inner being.</p> + +<p>"'The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee--drink +this--.'" He was in church at the Communion service, administering the +cup.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand dollars." He was at the auction now, eager and intent.</p> + +<p>"Poor lassie, poor little lamb." This time it was the injured Stickles +child. And thus he rambled on from one thing to another, while Dan stood +like a statue in the room staring upon him. Suddenly he opened his eyes, +looked around in a dazed manner, and then fixed them upon the boy's face. +He moved a little, and at once a cry of pain escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"Dan! Dan!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter? Where am I, and what is the +meaning of this pain in my shoulder?"</p> + +<p>The look in his face was most pathetic, and Dan longed to do something to +relieve his suffering.</p> + +<p>"Does yer shoulder hurt much?" the lad asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, the pain is intense. Tell me how it happened."</p> + +<p>"We were chucked from the sleigh, an' I guess you struck a stump," was the +reply.</p> + +<p>"Is this Stephen's cabin?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. He's gone fer the doctor, so I'm keepin' watch."</p> + +<p>The parson remained very quiet, and did not speak for some time. He still +felt confused, and his shoulder was giving him great pain. He realized, +however, how much he owed to Dan. What if he had been alone when the +accident occurred?</p> + +<p>"Did you come back for Stephen?" he at length questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"And you were not hurt? Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure's I'm livin'."</p> + +<p>"And you were not afraid to come alone to the cabin for help?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't mind."</p> + +<p>"You're a brave boy, Dan. You've done much for me to-night. Saved my life, +in fact."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't do much. Not worth mentionin'," and the lad took his seat by +the bedside.</p> + +<p>How the time did creep by. Often Dan went to the door and looked out. He +strained his ears in order to hear the sound of bells, but the wind +moaning and tearing through the tree-tops alone fell upon his ears. At +last, when his patience was almost exhausted, the door was flung open, and +Doctor Leeds entered, covered with snow, and a most anxious look upon his +face. It did not take long for the practised eye and hand to ascertain the +trouble. The shoulder had been dislocated, and would have to be replaced.</p> + +<p>Then the parson showed of what stuff he was made. Hardly a sound escaped +his lips as the doctor, assisted by Stephen, performed the painful +operation.</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed the physician, as he bound up the wounded member, +"we'll have you round again in a short time. Now, some would have squaked +and yelled like a baby, but you're a man through and through." "Thank +you, Doctor. You are very good. But how about the little lass? You didn't +leave her for me? Tell me the truth," and the parson's eyes sought the +doctor's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you worry about her," was the good-natured reply. "Sweepstakes +took me over the road like the wind, and I had the poor little leg all +fixed up before Stephen arrived. She'll do very well now without my care. +But come, we must get you home at once."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I am able to go?"</p> + +<p>"Able! certainly you're able. Home's the only place for you, though the +journey may cause you some pain."</p> + +<p>"And you will come too, Doctor? You muat be very tired, and need a good +rest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm going with you. I'm not going to leave you yet. You're worth +fifty ordinary men, and we must not run any risk. Besides that, sir, I do +want a glimpse of your dear Nellie, and a little chat with her. I haven't +rested my eyes upon her for months, and do you think I'm going to miss +such an opportunity? No, sir, not a bit of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore was forced to smile in spite of his weakness as he looked +into the doctor's strong, rugged face.</p> + +<p>"God bless you," he replied. "This isn't the first time you have been a +firm friend to me. I can never forget how you stood day and night by the +side of my dear wife, doing all in your power to keep her with us a little +longer."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man," and the doctor turned away to hide a mistiness in his +eyes. "She was worthy of it, and her like can't be found every day. But +come, Steve has been waiting at the door for some time, and we must be +away."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_15"></a>Chapter XV</h1>. + +Deepening Shadows + + + +<p>As Nellie stood at the study window the Sunday afternoon her father left +for Craig's Corner a sense of depression and loneliness stole over her. +How much longer could her father continue those hard drives, she wondered. +He was getting old. His hair was so white and his steps feeble. What was +to become of him when he could perform his beloved work no longer? She +knew very well how they were pressed for money, and how much had gone to +help Philip in his fight in British Columbia. How many things had they +gone without! Even mere common necessities had been given up. Naturally +her mind turned to the auction, and the money her father had paid down for +the farm. Four thousand dollars! Where had it come from, and why would her +father never tell her, or speak about it in her presence? How often had +she lain awake at night thinking about it all! Then to hear people more +than hinting about Billy Fletcher's gold, and what had become of it, was +at times more than she could bear. Never for a moment did she doubt her +father, but often she longed to ask him for an explanation of the mystery. +Was the money his own, or was he handling it for someone else? If so, why +should he not tell her--his only daughter--who was so dear to him?</p> + +<p>She was aroused by the arrival of several children from the houses nearest +the Rectory. Every Sunday afternoon Nellie found her real enjoyment with +her little class. She had known them all since their birth, and they loved +her. How longingly they looked forward to that brief Sunday gathering. +There were no harsh, strict rules here, no perfunctory opening and +closing, and no lifeless lessons droned forth in a half-rebellious spirit. +It was all joy and love. How their voices did ring as Nellie played on the +little harmonium some sweet hymn attuned to childish hearts and minds. +Then, after the lessons were over, there came the treat of the day--a +story read from one of those marvellous books kept on a shelf in a corner +all by themselves. When at last the story had been finished and the class +dispersed, Nellie locked the doors, and made her way to Vivien Nelson's. +What a hearty welcome she received from them all! To Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, +hard-working, God-fearing people, she was as their own daughter. She and +Vivien, their only child, had been playmates together at school, and their +friendship had never languished. There Nellie felt at home. She knew that +no matter what disagreeable things were being said about her father +throughout the parish, no word of reproach or blame was ever mentioned in +the Nelson home. Others might think what they liked about Parson John, but +the Nelsons had known him too long in times of sorrow and joy to believe +any evil of their old Rector.</p> + +<p>Here Nellie stayed until the following afternoon, and then made her way +home to have the house comfortable before her father came back. As the +evening drew near she anxiously watched for his return. She saw the dull +grey sky and knew that a storm threatened. As the darkness deepened and +the wind raved about the house, and the snow beat against the north +windows, her anxiety increased. The supper table stood ready in its snowy +whiteness; the kettle sang on the stove and the fire in the sitting-room +grate threw out its cheerful glow. It was a scene of peace and genial +comfort contrasted with the raging of the elements outside. But Nellie +thought nothing of this, for her heart was too much disturbed. Had +anything happened to her father and Dan? It was some relief to know that +the lad was along, for two were better than one should an accident occur. +Her eyes roamed often to the little clock ticking away on the +mantel-piece. Six-seven-eight-nine. The hours dragged slowly by. She tried +to read, but the words were meaningless. She picked up her needlework, but +soon laid it down again, with no heart to continue. Once more she glanced +at the clock. Ten minutes after nine. She thought it longer than that +since it had struck the hour. She arose to attend the kitchen fire, when a +loud knock upon the front door startled her. She turned back, and stood +for an instant in the centre of the room. Her heart beat fast, and her +face paled. Tramps were frequently seen in Glendow, working their way from +one place to another. At times they were impudent and tried to force an +entrance into houses. It was a likely night for them to seek shelter, and +suppose one were standing out there now! What could she, a lone woman, do? +Another rap, harder than the first, fell upon her ears. Something must be +done, and at once. Crossing the room and pausing near the door she +demanded who was there.</p> + +<p>"Sam Dobbins," came the reply, and Nellie breathed more freely as she +unlocked the door, opened it and admitted the visitor.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a blasted night," the man remarked as he tried to shake himself free +from his mantle of snow and stamped upon the floor with his great heavy +boots. "If I'd known 'twas so bad I'd never stirred one step."</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" questioned Nellie, fearful lest Sam was the bearer of +ill news. "Have you seen my father?"</p> + +<p>"Your father! Isn't he home?" and the man looked his surprise.</p> + +<p>"No, he hasn't come yet, and I'm so uneasy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare, and to think that I have come all the way to see him, +and he's not here. When do you expect him?"</p> + +<p>"I expected him home before dark, but now I don't know what to think. Is +there anything I can do for you, Mr. Dobbins? Won't you take a seat?"</p> + +<p>"No, there's nothin' you kin do, miss. I've got to see the parson, and +only him. I hate the job, but I've got to do it. I'm the only constable in +the place, and I've got to do my duty."</p> + +<p>At these words a startled look came into Nellie's face. She took a step +forward and looked keenly into the man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I know you're a constable, but what do +you want of my father? Oh, please tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Now don't get excited, Miss," Mr. Dobbins kindly replied, looking with +admiration upon the excited young figure before him. "Remember, I've +nothin' against your father. Haven't I shod every horse he had since he +came to this place, long before you were born. He's been a good customer +of mine, and I ain't got nothin' agin him. I'm only doin' my duty as a +constable."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand, Mr. Dobbins. You come here to arrest my father +and----"</p> + +<p>"Only to serve the summons, Miss," interrupted the blacksmith. "I ain't +goin' to arrest him. He'll be asked to appear at the trial, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Trial! what trial?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's in connection with a cow."</p> + +<p>"A cow!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It seems that Si Farrington's hired man, Pete Davis, was takin' away +the Stickles' only cow, when your father appeared on the scene, cut the +rope, set the cow free, and sent Joe off in a hurry. Farrington's in a +rage, and says he'll make the parson smart fer what he did. He's goin' to +take legal action, and so I've been sent to serve the summons. That's all +I know about it, Miss. I'm real sorry, but what else could I do?"</p> + +<p>Nellie made no reply when the man ceased. Words would not come. Her bosom +heaved, and she placed her hand to her forehead in an abstracted manner. +Her eyes were fixed full upon the constable's face, though she did not see +him. Her thoughts were away from that room, out through the storm and +darkness to an old grey-headed man battling somewhere with the tempest, +for the sake of others. What had happened? What would he think when he +reached home to find out what Farrington was doing?</p> + +<p>The constable shifted uneasily from one foot to the other in an +embarrassed manner before those pathetic eyes. He clutched his cap more +firmly in his hands, and shuffled towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll go now, Miss," he stammered. "I'll step up the road to make a +call and come back again. Maybe your father will be home then."</p> + +<p>Nellie hardly heard the door open and close as the constable passed out +into the night. She stood for awhile as if dazed, then sinking into a +nearby chair she buried her face in her hands. The wind howled and roared +outside, and the snow dashed and swirled against the window. A big grey +cat rose from its position before the fire, came and rubbed its sleek fur +against her dress, and gently purred for some attention. But Nellie did +not heed it. How dark all seemed to her! One thing after another! Why were +these clouds gathering so thick over her dear father's head? It did not +seem possible that he could be kept in ignorance much longer. It was sure +to be revealed through this last trouble.</p> + +<p>A sound fell upon her ears which made her look quickly up. Was it the +wind? She listened with fast-beating heart. Again it came--a pathetic +whinny out in the yard. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to the back +door. She knew that call, for how often had she heard it! Midnight was +there, standing almost at the threshold. Her dim form could be seen as +Nellie peered out. She hurried forth, heedless of the pelting storm, +expecting to hear her father's voice. But no cheery greeting met her, +neither could she find the sleigh. Feeling around with her hands she felt +the trailing shafts, and the awful truth flashed upon her. An accident had +happened! And what of her father? Forgetting the horse she turned back +into the house, seized a cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and hurried +out into the storm. How the wind did roar about her as she waded and half +stumbled through the drifts, which were now filling the road. Anxiety lent +speed to her feet. She dashed on her way, and at length almost breathless +reached the Larkins' house. Upon the door she beat with her hands, and +after what seemed a long time Mr. Larkins made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Nellie! Nellie!" he exclaimed in affright, as she staggered into the +room. "What in the world is the matter? Tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"F-father's--had--an--a-a-ccident. Midnight came home without the +sleigh--dragging the shafts--oh, what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" was the reply. "We shall do what we can! I shall harness the horses +at once, get several of the neighbors, and go in search of him. Don't +worry too much, Nellie. To be pitched out of the sleigh in the soft snow +is not so bad. No doubt we shall meet him and Dan plodding wearily along."</p> + +<p>This the worthy man said to calm Nellie's fears, though in his own heart +there was real anxiety, and he was not long in placing the horses fast to +the big sled. But before he left he stopped to turn Midnight into the barn +floor, threw on her blanket, and left her quietly munching a liberal +supply of hay.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins was not long in making her appearance, and did what she could +to bring comfort to Nellie's anxious heart. She also went with her back to +the Rectory to await her husband's return. How the time did drag by! At +every wild gust of wind Nellie started and trembled. At length, however, +the faint sound of bells was heard, and scarcely had the panting, +snow-flecked horses stopped at the door ere Nellie, bare-headed, and with +a shawl over her shoulders, appeared.</p> + +<p>"Father, father!" she cried, as she rushed forward, and peered into the +familiar face. "Are you safe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearie. I am home again," came the feeble response.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank God!" she replied, throwing her arms around his neck, and +kissing him again and again. "What a night this has been--a horrible +nightmare!"</p> + +<p>"Come, lassie," demanded the doctor. "Away with you into the house. What +are you doing out here in such a storm? We'll look after your dad."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_16"></a>Chapter XVI</h1> + +<h2>For Sweet Love's Sake</h2> + + + +<p>All the next day the storm continued in its unabated fury. The roads were +completely blocked from fence to fence, and all sources of communication +in Glendow were cut off. Each house was a little world of its own, a +lighthouse in the midst of an ocean of snow where the long drifts piled +and curled like hungry foaming breakers.</p> + +<p>"This is the first holiday I've had for some time," chuckled good Doctor +Leeds as he leaned back comfortably in an easy-chair, and puffed away at +his pipe. "No one can come for me to-day, that's certain."</p> + +<p>Nellie, too, was glad, and as she watched the storm from the window a +feeling of relief came into her heart.</p> + +<p>"Dear storm," she said to herself. "How I love you to-day. You are a stern +protector, keeping out all prying eyes and malignant tongues. Mr. Dobbins +will not venture out while you are abroad, and so we will have peace a +little longer."</p> + +<p>Parson John passed a restless night, moaning much from the pain in his +shoulder. Towards morning, however, he passed into a comfortable sleep, +and did not wake until near noon. Nellie and the doctor had a long chat +together. He told her about the accident, and she related to him the +incident of the constable's visit to the Rectory.</p> + +<p>"The brute!" roared the doctor, when Nellie had finished. "Farrington's a +scoundrel! Why can't he leave decent people alone! He's always meddling +with someone. He's never happy unless he's persecuting people. Oh, I've +known him for years. And so he wants to have your father arrested, does +he, for saving the Stickles' cow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Nellie replied, "and I'm dreading the effect it will have upon my +father."</p> + +<p>"I see, I see," mused the doctor, while his eyes closed in a dreamy sort +of a way. "It will not be for his good, that's certain. But there's a way, +lassie, there's a way; don't forget that."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I was just thinking what a villain Farrington is, and in what an +underhanded way he works. But he leaves a loophole every time. Let me tell +you something."</p> + +<p>Then the doctor leaned over, and what he said brought back the colour into +Nellie's face, and made her heart beat fast, and sent her about her +household duties with a new spirit.</p> + +<p>During the next night the storm cleared, and the morning sun transformed +the vast, white fields into a shining, sparkling glory. Nellie was early +astir, finished her household duties, cared for her father, who was +steadily improving, ere the doctor made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to leave you in charge awhile this morning," she remarked as +the latter was eating his breakfast. "The day is bright and those large +drifts are so tempting, that I long for a snowshoe tramp. I have been in +the house so long that I must have a breath of fresh air."</p> + +<p>"Good!" replied the doctor. "It's just what you need. You had better make +the most of it, too, while I am here, for as soon as the roads are broken +I must be away. There are many patients to be looked after."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Doctor, very much. I know father will not mind my absence for +a short time," Nellie responded, as she hurried away to make ready for her +tramp.</p> + +<p>A pretty figure she presented as she stood a little later before the door +and bade the doctor good-bye. Snowshoeing she loved, and she had often +travelled for miles with Stephen in the clear bracing air. But to-day she +was not on pleasure bent, and her heart beat fast as she moved on her way. +No sign of life did she see as steadily she plodded forward over the +yielding snow. An hour later when she stood before Farrington's house and +laid aside her snowshoes, her face was flushed with a healthy glow caused +by the vigorous exercise. Her courage almost failed as she knocked upon +the door, and waited for it to be opened. It was Mrs. Farrington who came, +and great was her astonishment when she found who was there.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Nellie Westmore, I do declare!" she exclaimed. "Come right in, +dear, and lay your wraps aside. I'm so glad to see ye. But how in the +world did ye git here?"</p> + +<p>"I snowshoed all the way," was the quiet reply, "and I have come to see +Mr. Farrington. Is he in?"</p> + +<p>"Why certainly. He's in the store. I'll call 'im at once," and Mrs. +Farrington bustled off, wondering what in the world brought Nellie on such +a morning.</p> + +<p>As Farrington entered the house a few minutes later, Nellie rose to meet +him. She knew that now was the crucial moment, and a prayer went up from +her heart for guidance. She was surprised at her own calmness as she +looked into the face of the man who was causing her so much worry.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to see ye, Nellie," and Farrington stretched out a big fat +hand. "Set down, please."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied. "I prefer to stand. I do +not wish to keep you long. I've come to see you this morning on behalf of +my father."</p> + +<p>"Umph!" ejaculated Farrington, as he threw himself into an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"You know," continued Nellie, "my father met with a bad accident night +before last, and is now confined to his bed, and I have come to ask you +not to let Mr. Dobbins trouble him while he is in his weak condition.. I +feel quite sure you will do this."</p> + +<p>"Ye want me to spare 'im, do ye?" Farrington blurted out. "Spare the man +who has injured me above measure!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed! And in what way?" Nellie applied.</p> + +<p>"In what way? do ye ask. Why, didn't he outbid me in the Frenelle +homestead? Doesn't he refuse to buy goods at my store; an' then, to cap it +all, interfered with my hired man when he went after that cow? Hev I any +right to spare 'im? Tell me that."</p> + +<p>"You have the right of consideration for an old man. My father is aging +fast, and any trouble worries him so much. He doesn't know about what you +intend to do, and I hope I can prevail upon you to go no further."</p> + +<p>Nellie's voice was low and pathetic, and she made some impression upon +Farrington, for when she had finished he did not at once reply. He sat +looking at her, thinking how pretty she was.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," he at length remarked, "we've allus been very fond of ye. We've +known ye ever sense ye was a baby, an' ye seem like one of our own. Ye hev +a good eddication, an' bein' a lady ye are well fitted to adorn a good +man's home. Now, our Dick is a most promisin' feller, who thinks a sight +of ye, so if ye'd consent to look upon him favourably, it ud please us all +mighty well. Besides----"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington!" interrupted Nellie, "what do you mean? What do I +understand you to say? Do you----"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, my dear," remonstrated Farrington. "It's jist as well fer +ye to consider this reasonable proposition fust as last. Yer dad's gittin' +old now, so he can't last much longer; an' ye'll hev a home."</p> + +<p>"An' jist think, Nellie dear," spoke up Mrs. Farrington, "what an +advantage it'll be to ye. Richard'll inherit the hull of our property some +day. He will be a gentleman, an' the son of a gentleman, too--of a good +old fambly. It'll be a very gratifyin' thing, too, fer ye to know that +Richard's father was a Councillor of Glendow. So now, dear, give up that +uncouth Frenelle boy, an' take on with our son Richard."</p> + +<p>Nellie's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson now, and her eyes were +flashing with an angry light. Her heart was filled with disgust at these +cool, self-satisfied schemers. Had they been less confident of their own +importance they would have realized that they were treading on dangerous +ground. They could not comprehend that back of Nellie's quiet, reserved +demeanour there was a moral courage which would rise to any height of +self-sacrifice at the call of duty, or in defence of those she loved. They +had known her from childhood, and to natures such as theirs her gentleness +and retiring disposition were interpreted as weakness or lack of proper +spirit. To be suddenly awakened from such an idea was startling in the +extreme.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied, holding herself in check with a mighty +effort, "I am very much astonished at the words I have just heard. I came +here to talk to you as a lady would talk to a gentleman. But great is my +surprise to be insulted to my face. You have no right to speak to me as +you have done this morning, or to take such liberties as regards Stephen +Frenelle. He is a real gentleman's son, and has the true instincts of a +gentleman. We were children together, and I do not wish you to speak of +him or any friend of mine in a slighting manner. As to your remarks in +reference to your son, they are so unworthy of a father and mother that +they arouse in me the feelings of deepest pity for you. I blush to think +that you should ever suggest such a thing, and am surprised that your +better nature does not assert itself, and cause you to cover your heads in +shame for having uttered such words."</p> + +<p>Nellie spoke rapidly with her eyes fixed full upon Farrington's face. The +latter shifted uneasily at this torrent of words, and occasionally glanced +at his wife, who was sitting near with open-mouthed wonder.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me!" Mrs. Farrington replied. "I allus thought ye was sich +a nice, modest little thing, an' to think that ye should go on like this. +What would yer dear mother think if she was livin'?"</p> + +<p>"You are a mother, Mrs. Farrington," Nellie responded, "and what would you +think if anyone made such a proposition to Eudora as you have made to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a different question."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eudora will hev money, an' will not be left penniless, while you an' +yer father are jist dependin' upon the parish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it only too well," Nellie bitterly answered. "We are little +more than paupers, trusting to the voluntary offerings of the people for +our support. But then, this has little to do with what I came here for. We +have wandered from the subject. I came simply to speak on behalf of my +father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that matter's settled now once and fer all," Farrington replied in a +cool, matter-of-fact manner. "Ye've taken the bizness into yer own hands. +We've made ye a good offer, an' ye've refused pint blank, so we'll +consider this little affair atween us settled. Sam Dobbins is in the store +waitin' fer me, so I shall tell 'im to go ahead an' serve the summons."</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute," Nellie demanded, as Farrington rose to his feet, +stretched himself, and started leisurely towards the door.</p> + +<p>"There's something you evidently have not considered which might change +matters a little. I came here this morning trusting to get your consent to +leave my father alone without any unnecessary trouble. I appealed to your +manhood, but in vain. Now, there is only one course open to me, which I +will be obliged to take."</p> + +<p>"Hey, what's this?" and Farrington's brow knitted in perplexity. "I don't +understand you."</p> + +<p>"No, certainly you don't, but you will presently. I would like to ask who +it was you sent out after the Stickles' cow?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Pete, of course; my hired man. He allus does that work fer me, an' +has taken dozens of 'em at various times."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so I have heard," and Nellie's voice was charged with a warning +note. "But were you not afraid of the risk you were running, Mr. +Farrington?"</p> + +<p>"Risk? what risk? I never had any trouble. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"But is Pete a constable?"</p> + +<p>"A constable, be blowed! What are ye drivin' at?"</p> + +<p>"Did he have a warrant from a magistrate to go to the Stickles' place, +open the door, enter the barn, and try to take away that cow?"</p> + +<p>"N-no, certainly not. But he never had one afore, an' everything was all +right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was all right as far as you were concerned, because no one +interfered, and the people were always too poor to make a fuss. But do you +know that you have laid yourself open to a grave offence? In the eyes of +the law you tried to steal that cow from the Stickles."</p> + +<p>"Girl! Girl! What do ye mean by talkin' this way?" and Farrington bounded +from his chair in a rage. "Explain to me at once what ye mean by sich +words!"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to explain, Mr. Farrington. Without a warrant, or +any legal authority, you sent your servant to break into a private barn, +and lead away a cow belonging to Mr. Stickles. Because my father +interfered you wish to have him arrested. I hope you see the point."</p> + +<p>Farrington was certainly a study just then. His eyes glowered, and his +face was inflamed with rage. He was in a trap and he knew it.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll pay fer this!" he cried, stamping upon the floor, in anger. "Ye'll--Ye'll----!"</p> + +<p>"Very well," Nellie calmly replied. "I've simply told you your position, +so now if you wish to go ahead, do so. You will know what to expect. +Perhaps I have been a better friend to you than you now imagine. Remember, +we have friends, who know a thing or two, and besides, if you are not +careful, something may go wrong on election day."</p> + +<p>"Who told you this, girl?" Farrington demanded. "Who put ye up to this +bizness?"</p> + +<p>"That's my own affair. I have warned you, so go ahead if you care to. I +shall say no more."</p> + +<p>With that she turned and walked quietly out of the house, put on her +snowshoes, and started on her homeward way. But the trying ordeal through +which she had passed told upon her. She trembled violently, and a great +weakness came over her. She felt that she would sink down upon the snow. +How could she continue? She looked all around, but no sign of life could +she behold; no one to aid her. What was she to do? She thought of her +father. Was he waiting for her, perhaps wondering where she was? With a +great effort she moved slowly forward, and presently found her strength +returning. On and on she plodded. Never had the snowshoes seemed so heavy, +or the way so long, and right glad was she to see at last the Rectory rise +up large and homelike before her. She reached the door, doffed the +snowshoes, entered the house, hurried to her own room, and throwing +herself upon her bed, wept as if her heart would break. She was tired--oh, +so tired. The tears brought a blessed relief to her surcharged feelings, +and when she at length sought her father's side a sunny smile illumined +her face, her step was firm, and little remained to show to a casual +observer the fierce struggle through which she had recently passed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_17"></a>Chapter XVII</h1> + +<h2>Hitting Back</h2> + + + +<p>Farrington said very little after Nellie's departure. He even surprised +his wife by his coolness, for instead of raging, swearing and stamping +around the house he walked quietly out into the store. Here he busied +himself with various matters, and talking at times to the few customers +who straggled in. When no one was present he sat on a high stool by the +window and gazed out over the snow. He was not thinking of money now, nor +how much his eggs and butter would bring. His mind was dwelling upon that +scene which had just taken place. He thought nothing of the brave defence +Nellie had made on behalf of her father, but only of his own wounded +feelings. At times his hands would clinch, and a half-audible curse escape +his lips. He would get even, oh, yes! But how? He saw the danger of going +any further in connection with the Stickles' cow affair. He must let that +drop. There were other ways, he was sure of that; the difficulty was to +know just what to do.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and a tall, lanky man entered, with a pair of skates +dangling over his left shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Miles!" exclaimed Farrington, hurrying around to shake hands with +him. "Haven't seen you fer an age. What's the news at Craig's Corner? Set +down, you look about tuckered out."</p> + +<p>"Should say I was," Miles drawled forth. "Never got into such a mess in +all my life. Skated down river Sunday evening and was caught in that +blasted snowstorm, and so am footing it back."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, that's hard luck," and Farrington sat down upon a soap-box. +"Anyway, I'm mighty glad to see ye. Hope things are goin' well at the +Corner. Much election talk, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Considerable. The air's been full of it lately, but I guess Sunday's +doings will give the folks a new subject for awhile. 'Twas certainly a +stunner!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what do ye mean, Miles? Nobody killed, I hope."</p> + +<p>"What! Haven't you heard anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, how could I with the storm blockin' the roads."</p> + +<p>"Sure. I never thought of that. But I supposed the parson let it out."</p> + +<p>"The parson!" and Farrington's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What in +the devil has he to do with it? He was brought home night afore last with +his shoulder out of jint."</p> + +<p>"Whew! You don't say so! Well, I declare!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me what ye mean, man," exclaimed Farrington, moving impatiently on +his seat. "Let's have the yarn."</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha! It was a corker! Just think of it; a funeral procession moving +slowly across the river, with Tim Fraser and Parson John racing by like a +whirlwind. I never saw anything like it, ha-ha!" and Miles leaning back +laughed loud and long at the recollection.</p> + +<p>Farrington was all attention now. A gleam of delight shone in his eyes, +and a faint sigh of relief escaped his lips. He controlled his eagerness, +however, for he wished to draw Miles out, and learn the whole story.</p> + +<p>"Ye don't mean to tell me," he remarked, "that the parson was racin' on +Sunday? Surely ye must be mistaken!"</p> + +<p>"I'm a liar then," calmly replied the other, gazing thoughtfully down at +his boots. "Yes, I'm a liar, and a fool! Why, didn't I see the whole thing +with my own eyes? And didn't all the people of Craig's Corner see it, too? +Ask them, they'll tell you the same."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt yer word, Miles, but it's so unusual. The parson never did +anything like that before, did he?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge. But he's mighty fond of a horse, and a fast one at +that, so I guess when Tim Fraser clipped up he couldn't resist the +temptation."</p> + +<p>"Did he explain about it? Did he tell how it happened?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't say much. I heard him tell some people that he never let the +devil get ahead of him, and he was bound he wouldn't do it that time."</p> + +<p>"Ho-ho! That's what he said? Nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that I heard. I came away after that, so nothing new has reached +me since, except what you tell me. Is he badly injured?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Guess he'll come out all right; he generally does."</p> + +<p>"He looked very well on Sunday. I'm really sorry he's met with this +accident."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe it had something to do with the race," suggested Farrington.</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a punishment fer what he did on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Surely, you don't say--!" and Miles' mouth opened in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't say anything fer certain. I only know that sich things +sometimes do happen. A man who will race on the Sacred Day of Rest must +expect almost anything to happen. I've known of several sich cases. +Something generally does happen."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Well!"</p> + +<p>"Now honestly," continued Farrington very deliberately, "do ye think sich +a man is fit to be the minister of the Gospel in Glendow? Do ye think a +man who stands in church on Sunday an' reads them solemn words about +keepin' the Sabbath Day holy, an' then goes out on the ice an' engages in +a horse-race--do ye think sich a man is fit to teach our people? What an +example to set our children! When we tell 'em to remember the Day an' keep +it holy, they will say, 'Oh, the parson raced his horse on Sunday!' Oh, +yes, that's what they'll say. So you see what a condition the parish will +be in."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never thought of it that way," replied Miles, rising to his feet. +"But I must be off. I see the road is being broken."</p> + +<p>When the man had left the store Farrington stood for some time with his +hands clasped behind his back. He was in deep thought, and occasionally +his lips curled with a pleased smile. He then walked to the window, and +watched the men breaking the roads. He saw his own hired man, Pete Davis, +among the rest. Most of the able-bodied men of the neighbourhood were +there with shovels and teams. It was an inspiring sight to see team after +team in a long procession plowing their way forward among the high drifts. +Where the snow was light the leading horses would plunge through, blowing, +snorting, struggling, and at times almost hidden from view. In places +shovels had to be used and then cuttings, narrow and deep, were made +through the banks, just wide enough for one team to move at a time. For +hours the work had been carried on, and at length the last drift had been +conquered, and communication, from place to place once again opened up.</p> + +<p>Farrington watching the horses surging through was not thinking of the +fine appearance they presented. His mind was upon a far different matter. +He stood there, saw the teams swing around and finally disappear up the +road. It pleased him to see Miles riding upon one of the sleds. His ready +tongue was as good as a newspaper, and he would spread the story of the +Sunday race wherever he went.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Farrington was surprised at her husband's jocular manner when he was +called to dinner. He joked and laughed more than he had done in many a +day. Not a word did he say about Nellie's visit; in fact he seemed to have +forgotten all about it.</p> + +<p>"Ye must have done a good bizness this mornin', Si," his wife remarked. "I +haven't seen ye in sich fine spirits in a long time."</p> + +<p>"Haven't sold as much as usual, my dear," was the reply. "Didn't expect to +anyway, as the roads have jist been broken."</p> + +<p>"But ye seem very happy. Has anything remarkable occurred?"</p> + +<p>"Simply an idea, my dear, simply an idea."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, who'd a thought it. I didn't know that an idea 'ud make one +feel so good. Tell me about it, Si."</p> + +<p>"No, not now. I haven't time. Besides, I want to see how it'll work, an' +then I'll surprise ye."</p> + +<p>Farrington rose from the table, and going to the store went at once to the +small office. Here he spent some time writing, and at the end of a half +hour gave a chuckle of satisfaction, laid aside the pen, folded up the +paper and put it into his pocket. Next he went into the stable, and +ordered Pete to harness the horse and have it at the door in fifteen +minutes. At the end of that time he came from the house, wrapped in his +large fur coat, cap and mittens. Soon he was speeding over the road, +leaving Mrs. Farrington, Eudora and Dick watching him from the window, and +wondering what it all meant.</p> + +<p>Farrington was forth upon important business, and he knew exactly at what +houses to stop. There were the Fletchers, he was sure of them; the +Marshalls, their kinsmen; the Burtons, and several families who owed +fair-sized bills at the store, and would be unable to pay for some time.</p> + +<p>The sun was dipping big and red far westward when Farrington turned his +horse's head homeward. He was well pleased with his afternoon's work. No +one had refused to sign the petition he carried, and over twenty names had +been scrawled upon the paper.</p> + +<p>As he moved along his eyes rested upon a little cottage away to the right, +nestling near a grove of large maple trees. Old Henry Burchill, the +wood-chopper, lived there. Farrington's brows knitted as he thought of +him. Would he sign the paper? He knew that Henry was once opposed to the +parson for introducing certain things into the church. But then that was +long ago, and he wondered how the old man felt now. Anyway there was that +unpaid bill at the store. It would have some weight, and it was no harm to +try.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill was at home, and was surprised to see the storekeeper enter +the house. She was a quiet, reserved woman, who mingled little with her +neighbours. The lines of care upon her face, the bent back and the +toil-worn hands told their own tale of a long, hard battle for life's bare +necessities. Her heart beat fast as she shook hands with her visitor, for +she, too, thought of that bill at the store, which she and her husband had +been bravely striving to pay.</p> + +<p>"Is yer husband at home, Mrs. Burchill?" asked Farrington, seating himself +on a splint-bottomed chair.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He's in the woods chopping for Stephen. I'm afraid he won't be +home to-night."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! that's too bad," and Farrington brought forth the paper from his +pocket. "I wanted 'im to do a little favour fer me--simply to put his name +to this pertition. But, if you'll do it, 'twill be jist the same," and he +handed over the paper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill put on her glasses, and slowly and carefully read the words +written there. Farrington watched her closely and noted the colour +mounting to her faded cheeks, and the look of reproach in her eyes as she +at length turned them upon his face.</p> + +<p>"And you expect me to put my name to this?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"An' why not?" smiled Farrington. "Have you read what the paper sez?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, every word."</p> + +<p>"An' don't ye think there's a reason why ye should sign it? Don't ye think +the Bishop should know what kind of a parson we have?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," and Mrs. Burchill spoke very deliberately, "if the Angel +Gabriel himself came with that paper for me to sign I should refuse. I'm +an old woman now, and why should I commit such a sin in my declining +years?"</p> + +<p>"Sin! what sin would ye commit in simply signin' that paper?" Farrington +demanded.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill did not reply at once, but placing her hand upon a Bible +lying by her side she reverently opened it.</p> + +<p>"Listen to these words," she said. "They are not mine, remember, but the +Lord's. 'Touch not mine anointed,' He says, 'and do my prophets no harm.' +Now Parson John is one of the Lord's anointed, set apart for a sacred +work, and it's a dangerous thing to strive against Him."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, woman! That's all rubbish! Them things happened in olden days. +Besides, we have a just grievance. He is interferin' too much with the +affairs of others. He takes too much upon himself. Then, what about that +race on Sunday? Do ye think we should stand that?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, it's the same old story. Don't you remember how people said the +very same thing about Moses and Aaron, long, long ago. They said that +those two men were taking too much upon them, and a rebellion ensued. And +what was the result? The Lord punished the people, the earth opened and +swallowed them up. I often read that story to Henry in the evenings, and +it makes us feel very serious. Oh, yes, it's a dangerous thing to +interfere with the Lord's anointed. Something's bound to happen to the +ones who do it."</p> + +<p>Farrington could stand this no longer. He had met with such success during +the afternoon that to hear this rebuke from Mrs. Burchill was most +annoying.</p> + +<p>"Woman!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I don't want to hear all this. +I didn't come here to be preached to about sich old-fashioned trash as the +'Lord's anointed!' I came here to git ye to sign that paper, an' not to be +preached to! Will ye sign it or will ye not?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shall not sign it!" was the quiet response.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, that's all I want to know. But remember, Mrs. Burchill, +there's a little unpaid account on my books against your husband. Please +tell 'im to call and settle it at once. If not--oh, well you know the +result," and Farrington looked significantly around the room. "So, +good-day. I must be off."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill stood at the window and watched Farrington drive away. Then +a sigh escaped her lips. She went back to the chair where she had been +sitting, and kneeling down buried her face in her hands. For some time she +remained in prayer, but her earnest pleadings were not for herself or her +husband, but for the old grey-headed man--the Venerable Rector of Glendow.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_18"></a>Chapter XVIII</h1> + +<h2>Wash-Tub Philosophy</h2> + + + +<p>"I've been up to me neck in soap-suds ever sense daybreak, an' I ain't +done yit."</p> + +<p>So declared Mrs. Stickles as she wiped her hands upon her apron and +offered a chair to her visitor, Betsy McKrigger.</p> + +<p>"I'm rale glad to see ye, nevertheless," she continued, "fer it's been a +month of Sundays sense I sot eyes on ye last. How've ye been? An' yer old +man, is he well?"</p> + +<p>"Only fairly," replied Mrs. McKrigger, laying aside her bonnet and shawl, +and taking the proffered chair. "Abraham went to the mill this mornin' an' +I came this fer with 'im. We were clean out of flour, an', although the +roads are bad, there was no help fer it, so he had to go, poorly as he is. +He'll stop fer me on his way back."</p> + +<p>"An' what's wrong with 'im?" asked Mrs. Stickles, going back to her +washing.</p> + +<p>"The doctor thinks he's got delapitation of the heart. Abraham was never +very strong there, and suffers most after eatin'. I'm gittin' very nervous +about 'im."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work. "I wouldn't worry +about that. Mebbe he eats too much. Men's hearts an' stummicks are purty +closely kernected, an' what affects the one affects t'other. It's +indisgestion the man's got-that's what 'tis. It's a wonder to me they +don't all hev it."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe yer right, Mrs. Stickles. 'Abraham is certainly a big eater. But it +wasn't eatin' which gave 'im the delapitation yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What was it, then?"</p> + +<p>"It was Si Farrington who gave it to 'im. That's who it was."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" ejaculated Mrs. Stickles. "Surely a cur like that wouldn't affect +anyone, would it? I'm jist waitin' to run agin Farrington meself, an' then +we'll see who'll hev palputation of the heart. It'll not be me, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"It's very true what ye say," replied Mrs. McKrigger, bringing forth her +knitting, "but when ye owe the man a bill at the store, an' heven't the +money to pay, it makes a big difference."</p> + +<p>"So he's been at you, has he? I s'pose he's been tryin' to git yer cow, +horse or farm. He tried it here, but Parson John, bless his soul, soon +stopped that."</p> + +<p>"No, not like that. He only hinted what he'd do if Abraham didn't sign the +pertition."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see. He's goin' to run fer councillor, an' wanted yer husband to +sign his denomination paper, did he?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, not that. It's about the parson."</p> + +<p>"What! Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's about 'im, poor man."</p> + +<p>"Land sakes! What's up now?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work and +stood with arms akimbo.</p> + +<p>"Farrington thinks the parson's too old fer the work, an' that we should +hev a young man with snap an' vim, like Mr. Sparks, of Leedsville. He +believes the young people need to be stirred up; that they're gittin' +tired of the old humdrum way, an' that the parish is goin' to the dogs. +But that wasn't all. He thinks the parson isn't a fit man to be here after +that disgraceful racin' scene on the river last Sunday. He sez it's an +awful example to the young. So he's gittin' up the pertition to send to +the Bishop."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles had left the wash-tub now and was standing before her +visitor. Anger was expressed in her every movement.</p> + +<p>"An' do ye tell me!" she demanded, "that yer husband signed that paper?"</p> + +<p>"W-what else was there to do?" and Mrs. McKrigger dropped her knitting and +shrank back from the irate form before her. "How could he help it?"</p> + +<p>"Betsy McKrigger, I never thought ye'd come to this. Help it! Why didn't +yer husband help Farrington out of the door with the toe of his boot?"</p> + +<p>"But think of that unpaid bill, Mrs. Stickles."</p> + +<p>"Unpaid bill, be fiddlesticks! Would ye turn aginst yer best earthly +friend fer the sake of a bill?"</p> + +<p>"What else could we do?"</p> + +<p>"Do? Let yer cow or anything else go! What do sich things amount to when +yer honour's at stake. Dear me, dear me! has it come to this?"</p> + +<p>"Ye needn't make sich a fuss about the matter," and Mrs. McKrigger +bristled up a bit. "It's a purty serious thing when yer whole livin's in +the fryin'-pan."</p> + +<p>"Livin', livin'! Where does yer livin' come from anyway, Mrs. McKrigger? +Doesn't the Lord send it? I reckon He'll look after us. Didn't He tend to +old 'Lijah when he done his duty. Didn't the ravens feed 'im? An' what +about that widee of Jerrypath? Didn't her meal and ile last when she done +what was right? Tell me that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, that may be as ye say. I ain't botherin' about old 'Lijah an' +that widow. If them people lived to-day they'd jine forces an' start the +biggest flour an' ile company the world has ever seen. I wish 'Lijah 'ud +come our way some day, fer me an' Abraham hev often scraped the bottom of +the flour barrel an' poured out the last drop of ile, not knowin' where +any more was comin' from."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, woman!" remonstrated Mrs. Stickles. "It's wrong fer ye to talk +that way. Hev ye ever really wanted? Didn't the flour and the ile come +somehow? Whenever we're scrapin' the bottom of the barrel it seems that +the Lord allus hears us, and doesn't let us want. I guess, if we stan' by +the Lord, He'll stan' by us. I'm mighty sorry yer man signed that +pertition aginst that man of God. It don't seem right nohow."</p> + +<p>"I'm not worryin' about that, Mrs. Stickles. Farrington has considerable +right on his side. The parson is old. We do need a young man with snap an' +vim. The parson's sermints are too dry an' deep. Abraham sleeps right +through 'em, an' says it's impossible to keep awake."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Stickles held up her hands in amazement. "To +think that I should live to hear sich words in me own house. Ye say the +parson's too old. Ain't ye ashamed of them words? Too old! D'ye want some +new dapper little snob spoutin' from the pulpit who hasn't as much +knowledge in his hull body as Parson John has in his little finger? I know +there's many a thing the parson talks about that I can't understan', an' +so there is in the Bible. I often talk the matter over with John. 'John,' +sez I, 'Ye recollect when ye was makin' that wardrobe fer me out in the +shed two springs ago?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' ye remember how the children used to watch ye an' wonder what ye was +makin'!'</p> + +<p>"'Sartinly,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' how they used to pick up the shavin's ye planed off, an' brung them +inter the house.'</p> + +<p>"He kalkerlated he did.</p> + +<p>"'Well then,' sez I, 'John, them children didn't understan' what ye was +makin', but they could pick up the shavin's an' make use of 'em. So when +Parson John is preachin' an' I can't altogether foller him, I kin pick up +somethin' here an' thar which I do understand, an' them are the shavin's +which I kin use, an' do use. Oh! John,' sez I, 'hasn't the parson been +droppin' shavin's fer over thirty years, an' not allus in the pulpit +either, an' haven't we ben helped 'cause we picked 'em up an' made 'em our +own?' John said I was right, an' he knows, dear soul."</p> + +<p>"That may be all very well fer you an' John," replied Mrs. McKrigger, "but +what about the young people, an' the older ones fer all that, who won't +pick up the shavin's? Farrington sez we want a poplar young man who kin +speak without any preparation, like Mr. Dale, the missionary who was here +last summer. Now, there was a man up to whom the young men could look, a +reglar soldier, who had been in the fight in Africy, had lived among +lions, tagers and niggers. He was a hero, an' if we could git a rale live +missionary like that, he'd make Glendow hum, an' the old church 'ud be +packed to the doors every Sunday. It's them missionaries who has the hard +time. Oh, they're wonderful people. Parson John's a good man, but he ain't +in the same line with them nohow. He's too commonplace, an' don't stir the +people up."</p> + +<p>For a while Mrs. Stickles did not reply. She wiped her hands on her apron, +and crossing the room took down a small pot, put in a little tea, filled +it with water, and set it on the back of the stove to draw. Next she +brought forth some large frosted doughnuts, and after she had poured a cup +of tea for Mrs. McKrigger and one for herself she sat down upon an old +splint-bottomed chair.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever tell ye the conversation I had with Mr. Dale, that missionary +from Africy?" she at length asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I never heerd it," came the reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's queer, an' it happened only last summer, too. Ye see, we all +went to the missionary meetin' in the church, an' Mr. Dale told us about +that furren land. Somehow I didn't take to the man, an' I liked 'im less +as he went on. All the time he was speakin' I noted how eagerly Parson +John listened. Often his buzum heaved-like, an' I thought I heerd 'im +sigh. But when the speaker 'gun to compare Africy with Canada and Glendow, +I got mad. 'Here the work is small,' sez he; 'thar it's mighty! Here ye +hev yer hundreds; thar we hev our thousands. Here things is easy; thar +hard.' As he talked on that way I looked at the parson an' saw a pained +expression on his dear face. I jist longed to jump to me feet, an' pint +out that old grey-headed man a sittin' thar, an' tell a few things I know. +But I got me chance later."</p> + +<p>"What! ye didn't say anything hard, I hope?" interrupted Mrs. McKrigger.</p> + +<p>"Only the plain truth; jist what he needed. Ye see, me an' John was axed +into the Rectory afterwards to meet the missionary an' hev a cup of tea. +Mr. Dale did most of the talkin', an' told us a hull lot more about his +experiences in Africy. But somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He had +little use fer Canada, an' said so, an' that was mor'n I could stan'.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Dale,' sez I, speakin' up, when his jaw stopped waggin' fer an +instant. 'Would ye be willin' to leave yer present field of labour?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' sez he, lookin' at me surprised-like.'</p> + +<p>"'An' why not,' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'Oh the work is so inspirin' out thar,' sez he. 'I'd about die in a--a--' +(I think he was goin' to say a country parish like this) but he said +'settled field whar the work is so quiet, ye know.'</p> + +<p>"'An' ye wouldn't be willin' to give up Africy,' sez I, 'fer a poor parish +like Glendow, if thar was no clergyman here?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' sez he, in a hesitatin' way, fer he didn't seem to know what I was +a drivin' at.</p> + +<p>"'Exactly so, Mr. Dale,' sez I. 'It takes a heap of spunk, I reckon, to go +to them furren fields, but I kalkerlate it often takes jist as much to +stay to hum, feed pigs, hens, an' look after a hull batch of children. +I've hearn men preach about sacryfice in big churches, but I generally +find that, when a poor country parish gits vacant, they don't seem +inclined to give up their rich churches an' step into a humbler place. Yet +sometimes I've heerd of sich men goin' to furren fields. An' why is that, +Mr. Dale?'</p> + +<p>"'That they might do more work fer the Master,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'I think yer wrong thar,' sez I. 'Now, look here. To enter a country +parish is to be almost unknown, an' people say, 'Oh, he's only a country +parson,' an' they stick up their ugly noses, which they think are +acristocat. But let a man go to a furren field, an', my lands! they +blubber over 'im an' make a great fuss. If he combs the head of a little +nigger brat out thar in Africy--though no doubt he needs it--why the +missionary magazines an' papers are full of it. If he pulls the tooth of +an old Injun chief who has a dozen wives taggin' around after 'im, the +people hold up thar hands in wonder, an' call 'im a hero. But let a man +stay at hum in a parish like Glendow, an' no one hears of his doin's, +cause they don't want to.'"</p> + +<p>"My! ye didn't say all that?" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, "an' to a rale +live missionary, too."</p> + +<p>"Them's the exact words I said, an' them ain't all," rattled on Mrs. +Stickles. "I had me tongue on 'im then, an' it did me good to see his +face. He looked once towards the door as if he thought I'd jump at 'im. +Oh, it was as good as a circus to see 'im shake," and she laughed at the +recollection of it.</p> + +<p>"'Remember,' sez I, 'I ain't got nuthin' agin furren missions, fer they do +a heap of good. But I would like to see things levelled up a bit. If I git +down on me knees an' scrub the floor, it's nuthin' thought of. But if a +missionary does it, a great fuss is made. When Parson John is dug out of +snow-banks every week, when his sleigh gits upsot an' throws 'im into the +ditch, no one outside the parish ever hears of it. But let sich things +happen to a furren missionary, an', my lands! it's wonderful.'</p> + +<p>"I could see all the time that Mr. Dale was gittin' excited an' excititer.</p> + +<p>"'Woman,' sez he in a lofty kind of way, which reminded me of a young +rooster tryin' to crow, 'do ye realize what yer talkin' about? Do ye know +yer treadin' on delicate ground?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez I, 'when I tread on a man's toes, it's purty delicate ground.'</p> + +<p>"'I don't mean that,' sez he. 'But do ye know that <i>I'm</i> a +missionary, an' do ye know what it means to be away from hum seven years, +away in a furren land?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez I. 'It means a holiday of a hull year at the end, with yer +salary goin' on, an' yer travellin' expenses paid. D'ye think, Mr. Dale, +that the parson here ever gits sich a holiday? Y'bet yer life he doesn't. +He's been here workin' like a slave fer over thirty years now, an' in all +that time <i>he</i> never had a holiday.'</p> + +<p>"At that the parson himself speaks up. 'I think yer wrong thar, Mrs. +Stickles,' sez he. 'I had two hull weeks once, fer which I've allus been +most thankful.'</p> + +<p>"'An what are two weeks?' sez I. 'An' didn't ye pay yer own travellin' +expenses?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez he, 'I did.'</p> + +<p>"'Thar now,' sez I to Mr. Dale. 'What d'ye think of that? Two weeks in +over thirty years of hard work!' But that reminds me of somethin' +else--an', sez I, 'Who pays yer salary, Mr. Dale? D'ye mind tellin' me that?' + +"'The Mission Board' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' do ye git it reglar?' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'Every month,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'I thought so,' sez I. 'An' d'ye think the parson here gits his every +month?'</p> + +<p>"'I don't know,' sez he. 'But s'pose he does.'</p> + +<p>"'Not by a long chalk,' sez I. 'He has to wait months an' months fer it, +an' sometimes he doesn't git it at all, an' then has to take hay an' oats, +or do without. I know that to be a fact. Old skinflint Reeker over thar +owed two dollars one year to the church, an' he wondered how in the world +he was to git out of payin' it. Durin' the summer a Sunday-school picnic +was held on his place back in his grove, an' fer one of the games the +parson cut down four little beeches about as big as canes. Thar was +thousands of 'em growin' around, an' wasn't worth a postage-stamp. But old +Reeker saw 'im cut 'em, an' the next day he went to the parson an' told +'im how vallable the beeches was--his fancy trees or somethin' like that--an' +charged 'im fifty cents a piece, the amount he owed to the church. +"Wasn't that so, Parson?" sez I, turnin' to 'im.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes,' sez he. 'But it ain't worth speakin' about now. I think we +had better have our cup of tea, an' talk no more about the subject.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear, good man," and Mrs. Stickles wiped her eyes with the corner of her +apron. "He was kinder upsot at what I said. But not so, Nellie. Her sweet +face jist beamed on me, an' when I went out into the kitchen to help her +she put her arms about me old neck, an' gave me a good big thumpin' kiss. +That's what she did."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Mrs. Stickles ended, ere bells were heard outside.</p> + +<p>"Why, I declare, if Abraham ain't back already!" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, +rising to her feet and donning her hat and wraps. "He's made a quick trip. +I'm very grateful, indeed I am, fer the cup of tea an' the pleasant time +I've had. Ye must come to see me as soon as ye kin."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles stood for some time at the window watching the McKriggers +driving away. She was thinking deeply, and a plan was being evolved in her +mind which made her forget her washing and the various household duties. +At length she turned and entered the room where her husband and little +Ruth were lying.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, after she had related to him what Mrs. McKrigger had +told her about Farrington and the petition, "d'ye think you an' Ruthie +will mind if me an' Sammy go into the shore this afternoon with old +Queen?"</p> + +<p>"Why no, dear," was the reply. "But don't ye think the roads are too bad, +an' besides, what are ye thinkin' of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind the roads, John. They're purty well smashed down by now, an' +Queen's very stidy. I've a plan, John, which comes right from me insides," +and leaning over she whispered it into his ear.</p> + +<p>"Land sakes, dear!" replied her husband. "D'ye think ye kin manage it? +Will they listen to ye? Ye're only a woman, remember, an' what kin a woman +do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm only a woman, John, an' mebbe 'tain't a woman's place. But when +men are too scart an' heven't as much spunk as a chicken jist outer the +shell, what else is thar to do? Is thar no one in the hull parish to stan' +up fer the Lord's anointed? Tell me that. Didn't that beautiful Queen +Ester stan' before her crank of a husband, Hazen Hearus, an' plead fer the +lives of her people? An' didn't Jael do the Lord's will when she put old +Sirseree outer the way, tell me that? Now, I ain't a queen like Ester, an' +I hope I ain't a woman like Jael that 'ud drive a nail through a man's +head. I'm jist plain old Marthy Stickles, but mebbe I kin do somethin' fer +the Lord, even if I ain't purty or clever."</p> + +<p>An hour later an old, lean horse fastened to a homemade pung was wending +its way slowly along the road leading to the river. Holding the reins was +Sammy, a queer little figure, wrapped from head to foot, bravely +maintaining his precarious position on six inches of the end of the board +seat. Towering above him, broad-shouldered and ponderous, sat Mrs. +Stickles, the very embodiment of health and strength.</p> + +<p>"Sammy," said she, as the sled lurched along the rough road, "I don't like +this bizness. But when the Lord's work's to be did, somebody's got to set +his face like flint, as the Bible sez, an' do it. Don't ye ever fergit +that, Sammy. Don't ye ever disremember that yer ma told ye."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_19"></a>Chapter XIX</h1> + +<h2>The Sting</h2> + + + +<p>The buzz of gossip once more filled the air of Glendow. This last affray +between Parson John and Farrington and the part Nellie had taken gave +greater scope to the numerous busy tongues. Up and down the shore road and +throughout the back settlements the news travelled. It was discussed at +the store, the blacksmith shop, the mill, and in the homes at night, +wherever a few were gathered together. The Fletchers had never been idle +since the night of old Billy's death. They stirred up others by various +stories and conjectures, fashioned in their own suspicious minds. "Why," +they asked, "did not the parson explain about that money he paid down for +the Frenelle homestead? How was it that a poor country parson was able to +buy such a farm? They were further incensed by an incident which happened +several weeks after the auction. Tom Fletcher was determined that he would +question the parson some day, in the presence of others. He prided himself +upon his keenness of observation and shrewdness in detecting a guilty +manner in those whom he suspected of wrong-doing. The first opportunity he +seized when he met the parson at the blacksmith shop, waiting for his +horse to be shod.</p> + +<p>"Well, Parson, are ye goin' to sell the farm?" he asked in a sort of +careless manner.</p> + +<p>"What farm?" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Frenelle place."</p> + +<p>"No; it's not for sale."</p> + +<p>"Well, is that so? Money's tight these times, an' I thought mebbe ye'd be +glad to get rid of it."</p> + +<p>"No. I'm not anxious to do so."</p> + +<p>"But, isn't it a heap of money to be tied up in one place? Mebbe ye'd give +us a hint how ye manage to do it. It's as much as us poor farmers kin do +to live, let alone put four thousand in a place which we don't intend to +use!"</p> + +<p>Tom tipped a wink to several others in the shop, as much as to say, "Now, +I've cornered him. Watch for the fun." Parson John saw the wink, and drew +himself suddenly up. He realized that the man was drawing him out for some +purpose, and it was as well to check him first as last.</p> + +<p>"Tom, do you mind," he asked, "if I put one question to you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly not. Drive ahead."</p> + +<p>"It's concerning that Widow Tompkins' place. Perhaps you will tell us how +you got control of it? Such a thing doesn't happen every day."</p> + +<p>Across Tom's face spread an angry flush, while a half-suppressed laugh was +heard from the bystanders. All knew very well that Tom had cheated the +widow out of her property, though no one ever had the courage to mention +it to him before.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that question?" demanded Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"It's a simple one, though, is it not?" the parson quietly responded. "It +naturally makes us curious."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll not satisfy such d---- curiosity. I tend my own affairs, an' I +ax others to do the same."</p> + +<p>"That's just the point, Tom," and the parson looked him square in the +eyes. "You wish to be let alone with your business, and so do I. You don't +wish to satisfy idle curiosity with your affairs, and neither do I. So we +are quits."</p> + +<p>This incident only caused the Fletchers to hate the parson more than ever. +Their greatest ally was Farrington. He was a man of considerable means, +and to have his support meant much. Never before was he known to be so +liberal to the people who came to his store. Often he invited them into +his house to sup with him, and then the grievances and election matters +were thrashed out. Occasionally when a farmer came to make purchases, +Farrington would see that a present was bestowed in the form of a piece of +calico for the wife, or some candy for the children. This was done +especially when Farrington was not sure of his man. He was playing his +part, not only stirring up these men against the man of God, but also +ingratiating himself into their good wishes against the day of the +election. When Farrington entered the field as a candidate for the County +Council, he knew he would have a hard struggle against his opponent, +Philip Gadsby, who was a man much respected, and had occupied the position +of councillor with considerable credit for two terms. The storekeeper had +been hard at work for some time with no visible success, for the +Farrington family with their high-flown ideas were much disliked by the +quiet, humble-minded folk of Glendow. The idea, therefore, of him being +Ifteir representative was at first abhorrent to most of the people. But +this new ruse of Farrington's was proving most successful. The Fletchers +drew with them all the loud-talking and undesirable element of Glendow. +This Farrington well knew, and by espousing their cause he was greatly +strengthening his own. The election day was only a few weeks off, so +Farrington and his party had no time to lose.</p> + +<p>During all this buzz of gossip, Parson John, the man most vitally +concerned, was perfectly oblivious of the disturbance. Of a most +unsuspecting nature, and with rot a particle of guile in his honest heart, +he could not imagine anyone harming him by word or deed. Happy in his +work, happy in the midst of his flock, and with his pleasant little home +guarded by his bright housekeeper, he had no thought of trouble. To his +eyes the sky was clear. His humble daily tasks brought him comfort through +the day, and sweet, undisturbed rest by night.</p> + +<p>But with Nellie it was different. She heard what her father did not. +Fragments of gossip drifted to her ears, which paled her cheek and set her +heart beating fast. Occasionally Dan bore her news he had picked up at the +store, or from the boys of the neighbourhood, who were not slow in talking +of the things they had heard from their elders. Nellie longed to tell her +father, that he might be able to answer some of the charges which were +made. Several times had she determined to do so. But when she had looked +upon his calm face, noted his white hair, and gazed into his clear, +unsuspecting eyes, her resolution always took wings and disappeared. Then +she would surprise her father by twining her arms about his neck and +giving him a loving kiss.</p> + +<p>Two weeks had now passed since the accident, and Parson John was rapidly +improving. Two Sundays had he missed from church, something which had +happened but once before in his long ministry in the parish. Winter was +passing, and signs of spring were beginning to be seen and felt. The snow +was steadily disappearing from the hills, and the fresh, balmy air drifted +gently in from the south with its exhilarating influence.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday night, and Parson John was looking forward to the morrow, +when he could take his accustomed place at the parish church. He and +Nellie were sitting quietly in the little room, when Mr. Larkins entered +with the mail. The postman had met with an accident on the icy road, and +was several hours behind time. Usually Dan went to the office, but on this +occasion Mr. Larkins was down to the store, and had brought along the mail +for both families.</p> + +<p>"Letters for us!" Nellie exclaimed as Mr. Larkins entered. "Oh, how good +of you to bring them!"</p> + +<p>"Stay, stay," insisted the parson, as the worthy neighbour was about to +retire and leave them to the enjoyment of their letters. "You have not had +a whiff with me for a long time, and here is a new church-warden waiting +to be broken in."</p> + +<p>"But, I shall interrupt you," Mr. Larkins replied.</p> + +<p>"No, no, not in the least."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I agree to remain for one smoke, if you will promise that you +will read your letters, and not mind me. I see a new magazine on the table +which looks very tempting."</p> + +<p>Ensconced in a large easy-chair, he was soon deeply immersed in the +fascinating pages, at the same time endeavouring to enjoy the long +"church-warden," which was not altogether to his taste. Silence reigned in +the room, broken only by the cutting of envelopes and the occasional +rattle of the letters.</p> + +<p>Mr. Larkins was startled by a sudden cry of astonishment, and looking +quickly up he saw the parson sitting erect in his chair, clutching a sheet +of paper in both hands, and staring at it in a dazed manner. Nellie at +once sprang to his side to ascertain the cause of the commotion.</p> + +<p>"Look! Look!" he cried, thrusting the paper into her hand. "It's from the +Bishop! Read it, quick, and tell me what it means! Am I losing my senses, +or is this only a dream, or a joke?"</p> + +<p>Although Nellie's face was pale as she sprang to her father's side, it +went white as death as she quickly scanned the missive, drinking in almost +intuitively every word and its meaning. Then, flinging it aside with an +impatient gesture, she placed her arms about her father's neck, and tried +to soothe him.</p> + +<p>"Father, father, dear, never mind," she pleaded. But her voice faltered, +and she simply clung to him like a tender vine to some sturdy oak.</p> + +<p>"Girl! girl!" demanded the parson, "what does it mean? Do you know +anything? Tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Father, father," urged the maiden, "calm yourself. Don't get so excited."</p> + +<p>"But, do you know anything about this? Tell me at once!"</p> + +<p>"Yes---"</p> + +<p>"Yes, what? Don't stop. Go on," and the old man leaned forward so as not +to miss a single word.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, give me time," sobbed Nellie. "I will explain all. What will +Mr. Larking think?"</p> + +<p>"True, true. What will he think?" and the parson turned towards his +visitor.</p> + +<p>"You will pardon me, sir, for acting so strangely. But I am much upset. +There, please, read this. A letter from my Bishop, full of the most +remarkable utterances a man ever wrote. My people turned against me! My +people charging me with being a common thief! No, no! It cannot be true! +Read it--read it for yourself," and with a trembling hand he passed over +the letter.</p> + +<p>"My dear Westmore," so began the epistle. "What is the trouble between you +and your parishioners in Glendow? I have recently received a petition +signed by twenty of your people asking for your removal, on the following +grounds:</p> + +<p>"<i>First</i>. That you are too old to do the work; that many parts of the +parish are being neglected, and that a young man should take your place, +who will be able to hold the flock together.</p> + +<p>"<i>Second</i>. That you alone attended the deathbed of an old man, +William Fletcher by name, who was possessed of a considerable sum of +money, all in gold. The money, it is well known, was always kept in the +house in a strong, iron box. The night you attended him the house was +burned to the ground, but no trace of the money has since been found. Even +at the time you were suspected by some, as it was well known you were much +involved in some mining transactions out in British Columbia and badly in +need of money to carry on the work. But not until shortly after the fire, +when at a public auction you purchased a large homestead and paid down the +amount, four thousand dollars, in cash, did the whole parish suspect that +something was radically wrong.</p> + +<p>"<i>Third</i>. That on your way to attend a funeral at Craig's Corner on a +recent Sunday, you engaged in a horse-race with one, Tim Fraser, a most +notorious character.</p> + +<p>"Such in brief is the purport of the petition which now lies before me, +and I am asked not only to remove you, but to make a thorough +investigation concerning the whole affair. I am much grieved at this +matter, and cannot understand it at all. You have ever been looked upon as +a faithful priest in the Church of God, and I believe you will be able to +explain everything to the satisfaction of all. At first I thought it well +that you should write to me. On second consideration, however, I think it +better to make a visit to Glendow, and see if the matter cannot be quietly +settled. I do not wish this trouble to get abroad or into the newspapers. +I wish to have the people of the parish come before me, one by one, that I +may hear what they have to say, and thus be in a better position to form a +sound judgment. I have written the petitioners to this effect, and have +told them that I shall be in the vestry of the church next Thursday, +morning and afternoon, to hear what they have to say. I have also written +to your wardens--whose names, by the way, do not appear on the +petition--stating the case, that they may give due notice throughout the +parish."</p> + +<p>Silently Mr. Larkins returned the letter, not knowing what to say.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" questioned the parson, looking keenly into his +neighbour's face. "Am I only dreaming, or is it a joke?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, father, dear," Nellie replied, taking a seat near his side, and +tenderly clasping his hand, which was trembling with excitement. "It is +all real, ah, too real! The people have been saying these things."</p> + +<p>"What, girl! Do you mean to tell me that these things have been talked +about ever since the night of the fire?" demanded the parson.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, some have been saying them."</p> + +<p>"And you knew about these stories, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Y--yes, some of them."</p> + +<p>"And you never said a word to me! Never gave me a hint of warning, but let +me remain in ignorance the whole of this time!"</p> + +<p>"We thought it was for the best, father. Don't get angry with me. I +suppose I should have told you, but I thought the gossip would soon +cease."</p> + +<p>"You thought so, did you! Girl, I didn't think you would deceive me--your +father, in his old age! Have all my friends turned against me? Yes, yes, +and even she, of my flesh and blood--the darling of my heart for whom I +would die! God help me!"</p> + +<p>"Father, father, dear! don't talk that way," pleaded Nellie. "You will +break my heart. You don't know what I have suffered. Day and night the +trouble has been with me. I loved you so much that I wished to spare you +the worry. I thought it was for the best, but now I see I should have told +you. You have friends, true and tried, who do not believe a word of these +charges."</p> + +<p>The parson who had been gazing straight before him, rested his eyes upon +his daughter weeping by his side. His face softened, and the old look +returned.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, darling," he said, placing his arm tenderly about her. "I +have wronged you and all my dear friends. But, oh, the blow is so sudden! +I hardly know what to think. What can I do?"</p> + +<p>For over an hour they sat there and discussed the matter. As Mr. Larkins +at length rose to go, he looked into Parson John's face so drawn and +white, and almost cursed the wretches who had brought such trouble upon +that hoary head.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_20"></a>Chapter XX</h1> + +<h2>The Overseer</h2> + + + +<p>The service at the parish church Sunday morning was largely attended. Word +had spread rapidly that the Bishop would arrive during the week, and it +was confidently expected that the parson would touch on the question from +the pulpit.</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll git something to-day," one man remarked to another, near the +church door.</p> + +<p>"Y'bet," was the brief response.</p> + +<p>"D'ye think the parson will say anything about old Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Mebbe he will, an' mebbe he won't."</p> + +<p>"But I think he will. The parson likes to hit from the pulpit when no one +kin hit back."</p> + +<p>"Is that what brought you to church to-day? You seldom darken the door."</p> + +<p>"Sure! What else should I come fer? I'm not like you, Bill Flanders, +wearin' out me shoes paddin' to church every Sunday. I kin be jist as good +a Christian an' stay at home. I kin read me Bible an' say me prayers +there."</p> + +<p>"I'm not denying that, Bill, but the question is, Do ye? I reckon ye never +open yer Bible or say yer prayers either fer that matter. If you were in +the habit of doin' so you never would hev signed that petition to the +Bishop."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not alone in that. There's Farrington, a church member an' a +communicant, who headed the list, an' if he----"</p> + +<p>"Hold, right there, Bill. Farrington never signed that paper."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did."</p> + +<p>"But, I say, he didn't. He promised to do so, but jist after he sent it +away he made a fuss an' said that he had fergotten to do it."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so!" and Bill's eyes opened wide with surprise. "But are ye +sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sartin. I had it from Tom Fletcher himself, who feels rather sore about +it. It is well known that Farrington wanted the parson removed on the plea +of old age, but didn't want that clause in about Billy's death. The +Fletchers insisted, however, an' in it went."</p> + +<p>"The devil! Well, it's queer, I do declare."</p> + +<p>Just then the bell rang out its last call, and they entered the church +with others.</p> + +<p>Parson John looked greyer than usual as he conducted the service and stood +at the lectern to read the Lessons. But his voice was as sweet and musical +as ever, though now a note of pathos could be detected. His step was slow +and feeble as he mounted the pulpit, and a yearning look came into his +face as he glanced over the rows of heads before him.</p> + +<p>"Remember my bonds," was the text he took this morning, and without a note +to guide him, he looked into the numerous faces, and delivered his brief +message. A breathless silence pervaded the sanctuary as he proceeded to +draw a picture of St. Paul, the great champion of the faith, in his old +age enduring affliction, and appealing to his flock to remember his bonds. +The arm of the parson still in the sling, and the knowledge the people had +of the reports circulated about him, added much to the intense +impressiveness of the scene. For about fifteen minutes he spoke in a +clear, steady voice. Then his right hand clutched the top of the pulpit, +while his voice sank and faltered. "Brethren," he said, straightening +himself up with an effort, "St. Paul had his bonds, which were hard for +him to bear; the bond of suffering, the bond of loneliness, and the bond +of old age. You, too, have bonds, and will have them. But how sweet to +know that your friends and loved ones will remember your bonds, will +understand your sufferings, peculiarities, and will sympathize with you, +and be considerate. I, too, have bonds: the bond of unfitness for my great +work, and the bond of old age. These two shackle and impede me in the +Master's cause. But I ask you to think not so much of these as of another +which binds me soul and body--it is the bond of love. I look into your +faces this morning, and think of the many years I have laboured among you +in evil report and good report. I have learned to love you, and now that +love is my greatest bond, for it enwraps my very heart. When parents see +their darling child turn against them, their love to him is the hardest +bond to bear, because they cannot sever it. They remember him as a babe in +arms, as a little, clinging, prattling child. They think of what they have +done and suffered for his sake and how the cord of love has been silently +woven through the years. My love to you is my greatest bond, and, though +some may grow cold, some may scoff, and some repudiate, never let the lips +of any say that your rector, your old grey-headed pastor, now in his +fourth and last watch, ever ceased in his love to his little flock."</p> + +<p>There was a diversity of opinion among the listeners to these pathetic +words, which was quite noticeable as the congregation filed out of the +church. The eyes of some were red, showing the intensity of their emotion, +while others shone with a scornful light.</p> + +<p>"The parson fairly upset me to-day!" blurted out one burly fellow. "I +heven't been so moved sense the day I laid me old mother to rest in the +graveyard over yonder."</p> + +<p>"Upset, did ye say?" replied another, turning suddenly upon him. "What was +there to upset ye in that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the way the parson spoke and looked."</p> + +<p>"Umph! He was only acting his part. He was trying to work upon our +feelings, that was all. Ah, he is a cute one, that. Did ye hear what he +said about the bond of love? Ha, ha! That's a good joke."</p> + +<p>There was one, however, who felt the words more deeply than all the +others. This was Nellie, who sat straight upright in her pew, and watched +her father's every movement. She did not shed a tear, but her hands were +firmly clasped in her lap and her face was as pale as death. As soon as +the service was over she hurried into the vestry, helped her father off +with his robes, and then supported his feeble steps back to the Rectory. +She made no reference to the sermon, but endeavoured to divert her +father's mind into a different channel. She set about preparing their +light midday repast, talked and chatted at the table, and exhibited none +of the heaviness which pressed upon her heart. Only after she had coaxed +her father to lie down, and knew that he had passed into a gentle sleep, +did she give way to her pent-up feelings. How her heart did ache as she +sat there alone in the room, and thought of her father standing in the +pulpit uttering those pathetic words.</p> + +<p>Thursday, the day of the investigation, dawned bright and clear. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air. It was one of those balmy spring days when +it is good to be out-of-doors drinking in freshness and strength.</p> + +<p>The Bishop had arrived the night before, and had taken up his abode at the +Rectory. About ten o'clock the following morning, he wended his way to the +church, there to await the people of Glendow. Some time elapsed before any +arrived, and not until the afternoon did most of them come. Tom Fletcher +was among the first, and at once he made his way into the vestry, and +confronted the Bishop.</p> + +<p>The latter was a small-sized man, clean shaven, and with his head adorned +with a mass of white, wavy hair. His face and massive forehead bore the +stamp of deep intellectuality. He was noted as a writer of no mean order, +having produced several works dealing with church questions, full of +valuable historic research. His every movement bespoke a man of great +activity and devotion in his high office. His eyes were keen and +searching, while his voice was sharp and piercing. "Sharp as a razor," +said several of his careless clergy. Merciless and scathing in reference +to all guile, sham and hypocrisy, he was also a man of intense feeling, +sympathetic, warm-hearted, and a friend well worth having.</p> + +<p>He was poring over certain church registers as Tom Fletcher entered, and, +glancing quickly up, noted at once the man standing before him. He rose to +his feet, reached out his hand to Fletcher and motioned him to a chair.</p> + +<p>"Fletcher is your name, you say--Tom Fletcher," and the Bishop ran his +eyes over several lists of names before him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's my name."</p> + +<p>"You signed the petition, I see."</p> + +<p>"Yes." + +"Well, then, you must know about these charges which are made against your +rector. Now, as regards the first. It states here that he is neglecting +certain parts of the parish. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>"I understand so."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hear he hasn't been to Hazel Greek an' Landsdown Corner fer over +two years."</p> + +<p>"Any other place?"</p> + +<p>"No, I guess them's the only two, but it seems to me to be a purty serious +matter fer sich places to be neglected so long."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see," and the Bishop looked keenly into Tom's face.</p> + +<p>"You're not a vestryman, Mr. Fletcher?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"No, never was one."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever attend an Easter Monday meeting?"</p> + +<p>"No, never had time."</p> + +<p>"Do you take a church paper?"</p> + +<p>"Should say not. Much as I kin do is to pay fer the newspaper."</p> + +<p>"But, of course, you read the Synod Journal, which is freely distributed. +It contains each year a report from this parish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I read it sometimes, but there isn't much to interest me in that."</p> + +<p>"But surely, Mr. Fletcher, you must have read there that Hazel Creek and +Landsdown Corner were cut off from Glendow over two years ago, and added +to the adjoining parish, and are now served by the rector of Tinsborough. +They are more accessible to him, and the change has been a good one."</p> + +<p>"What! Ye don't tell me!" and Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I +never knew that before. The parson never said a word about it."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever ask him? Or did you inquire why he never went to those +places?"</p> + +<p>"No. I thought----"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to know what you thought," and the Bishop turned sharply +upon him. "Explanations are not needed now. You have proven conclusively +that you know nothing about the church affairs in this parish, and care +less. According to these registers I find that you never come to Communion +and never contribute one cent to the support of the church. But we will +let that pass, and consider the next charge made here."</p> + +<p>"What, about Uncle Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know the charge made, and as you signed the petition you must +have some substantial proof to bring forth."</p> + +<p>Tom twisted uneasily on the chair and twirled his hat in his hands. He was +mad at the way the Bishop had cornered him, and at what he had said. But +he was also afraid of this man who knew so much and seemed to read his +inmost thoughts. He began to dread the questions which he knew would come, +and longed to be out of the vestry. He was not feeling so sure of himself +and wished he had stayed away.</p> + +<p>"The second charge made here," continued the Bishop, "is of a most serious +nature. It is to the effect that your rector stole the gold from William +Fletcher the night the house was burned, and used some of it to buy a +farm. Is that what it means?"</p> + +<p>"I--I--don't know," Tom stammered, now on his guard, and not wishing to +commit himself.</p> + +<p>"But you should know," the Bishop insisted. "You signed the paper, and I +ask you what it means, then?"</p> + +<p>"The gold is gone, sir, an' the parson was the only one there with Uncle +Billy. Besides, where did he git all of that money?"</p> + +<p>"But that's no proof. I want facts, and I expect you to give me some."</p> + +<p>"That's all I know," was the surly response.</p> + +<p>"And upon the strength of that suspicion you signed this paper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you would swear that you know nothing definite?"</p> + +<p>"Y--yes--that's all I know."</p> + +<p>The Bishop remained silent for a short time, musing deeply.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he at length remarked, "that you have put yourself in a +very awkward position?"</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"You have virtually said that Mr. Westmore stole that gold. If you cannot +prove your statements you have laid yourself open to prosecution for +defamation of character. Your rector, if he wished, could bring in a +charge against you of a most serious nature."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that."</p> + +<p>"No, I know you didn't. You may go now, but remember the position in which +you have placed yourself."</p> + +<p>Tom waited to hear no more. He fairly sprang to the door, his face dark +and frightened. He spoke to no one, neither did he notice the sturdy form +of Mrs. Stickles standing there waiting to be admitted into the vestry.</p> + +<p>The Bishop looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Stickles entered. She +always proved the dominating factor wherever she went, and what her size +could not accomplish was well supplied by her marvellous tongue. The +Bishop winced as she seized his hand in a vise-like grip.</p> + +<p>"It's real glad I am to set me eyes on ye," she exclaimed. "I heven't seen +ye in a dog's age, an' I'm mighty pleased ye look so well. How did ye +leave the missus, bless her dear heart? My, I'm all het up, the church is +so hot," and she bounced down upon the chair Fletcher had recently +vacated.</p> + +<p>The Bishop's eyes twinkled, and his care-worn face brightened perceptibly. +His exalted position made him a lonely man. There was so much deference +paid to him. People as a rule were so reserved in his presence, and showed +a longing to be away. "Many people desire a high office," he had once +said, "but very few realize the responsibility and loneliness it entails. +So much is expected of a Bishop, and his slightest words and acts are +criticized. I often envy humble workmen, smoking and chatting together. +They have many things in common. They may say what they like, and much +heed is not given to their remarks."</p> + +<p>It was therefore most refreshing to have this big-hearted woman seated +before him acting and talking so naturally, without the least restraint, +the same as if she were in her own house.</p> + +<p>"You have come, I suppose," said the Bishop, "in connection with this +petition," and he pointed to the paper lying on the table.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the thing, is it?" asked Mrs. Stickles, as she leaned forward +to get a better view. "Be very keerful of it, Mr. Bishop. Don't scratch it +or bring it too close to the fire."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" asked the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Don't ye know that's the work of the devil, an' there's +enough brimstone in that paper to burn us up in a jiffy. It's soaked +through an' through, so I advise ye to handle it keerful."</p> + +<p>"So you think these charges in this petition are not true? What can you +say to the contrary, then?"</p> + +<p>"What kin I say to be contrary? I kin say a good deal, an', indeed, I hev +said a good deal. When I heered about that pertition my buzum jist swelled +like the tail of an old cat when a hull bunch of yelpin' curs git after +her. But I didn't sit down an' weep an' wring me hands. No, sir, not a bit +of it. Me an' Sammy went to them in authority, an' sez I to them +church-wardens, sez I, 'will ye let that old parson, the Lord's anointed, +be imposed upon by them villains?'"</p> + +<p>"'What kin we do?' sez they.</p> + +<p>"'Do!' sez I.' Do what the Lord intended ye to do, fight. Didn't the Holy +Apostle say, 'Quit ye like men, be strong?' 'Git up a pertition,' sez I, +'an' git every decent, honest man in Glendow to sign it, an' send it to +the Bishop. Tell 'im?' sez I,' that the parson isn't neglectin' his parish +an' that yez hev full confidence in 'im.'</p> + +<p>"'We don't like to do it,' sez they.</p> + +<p>"'Why not?' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'We don't like to stir up strife,' sez they. ''Tisn't good to hev a +disturbance in the church. We're men of peace.'</p> + +<p>"'Peace,' sez I, 'an' let the devil win? That's not the trouble. Yer +afeered, that's what's the matter. Yer too weak-kneed, an' hain't got as +much backbone as an angle worm.' That's what I said to 'em, right out +straight, too. Now kin ye tell me, Mr. Bishop, why the Lord made some +people men instead of makin' 'em chickens fer all the spunk they've got?"</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Stickles," replied the Bishop, who had been staring in +amazement at the torrent of words, "what has this to do with the question +before us?"</p> + +<p>"I'm comin' to that, sir, only I wanted to tell ye my persition. When I +found that them in authority wouldn't make the start, I concluded that the +Lord meant me to do the work. So me an' Sammy an' our old horse Queen +travelled up an' down the parish fer three solid days, with this result," +and, drawing a paper from a capacious pocket, she laid it on the table. +"Thar 'tis, read it fer yerself, an' jedge."</p> + +<p>The Bishop's eyes grew a little misty as he read the words written there, +and noted the long list of names testifying to the worthiness of the +rector of Glendow.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stickles," he at length remarked, and his voice was somewhat husky, +"the Lord will reward you for what you have done. While others have been +simply talking, you have been acting. Like that woman of old, you have +done what you could, and this deed of love, believe me, will be remembered +in the parish of Glendow for generations to come. You may go now; you have +done your part."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_21"></a>Chapter XXI</h1> + +<h2>Decision</h2> + + + +<p>With his chair drawn tip close to the window, Parson John watched the +people as they moved along the road to and from the church. He recognized +them all, and knew them by their horses when some distance away. As +clothes betray a person when his face is not observable, so do horses and +sleighs on a country road. They seem to be vital parts of the owners, and +to separate them would be fatal. No one could imagine Mrs. Stickles seated +in a finely-upholstered sleigh and driving a high-mettled horse. She and +Sammy, the home-made pung and the old lean mare plodding onward, were +inseparably connected with the parish of Glendow. The parson's face +brightened as he saw this quaint conveyance shaking along the road. In +Mrs. Stickles he knew he would have one champion at least, though all the +others should turn against him. Team after team he watched, but none +turned aside into the Rectory gate to say a word to the old grey-headed +man, sitting before the window.</p> + +<p>The hours dragged slowly by, and still he sat there. Nellie went quietly +about her household duties, but a great weight kept pressing upon her +heart. Her father was so quiet, took no interest in his books, and did no +writing. Often she would stop and watch him as he sat there. He seemed to +be greyer than usual; his head was more bent, and his face wore a sad, +pained expression. "If he would only utter some word of complaint," +thought Nellie, "it would not be so hard. But to see that dumb, appealing +look is almost more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>Though very quiet, Parson John was fighting a hard, stern battle. His eyes +were often turned towards the road, but his thoughts were mostly upon +other things. Over his desk hung two pictures, and occasionally his gaze +rested upon these. One was that of a sweet-faced woman, who looked down +upon him with gentle, loving eyes-such eyes as Nellie inherited.</p> + +<p>"Ruth, Ruth," he murmured, "my darling wife. Thirty-five years since I +brought you here as a fair young bride. Thirty-five years! We knew not +then what lay before us. We knew not then how one must walk for years by +himself and at last tread the wine-press alone."</p> + +<p>His eyes drifted to the other picture hanging there--the Master kneeling +alone in Gethsemane. Long he looked upon that prostrate figure with the +upturned face. He thought of His agony in the Garden, the betrayal, +desertion and suffering. "I have trodden the winepress alone," he softly +whispered as into his face came a new light of peace and strength. Opening +a well-worn volume lying on the desk he read again that Garden scene, when +the Master knelt and fought His terrible battle. Forgotten for a brief +space were his own trials as he pored over that sacred page. How often had +he read that story, and meditated upon every word, but never before did he +realize the full significance of the scene. "Wonderful, wonderful," he +murmured again, as he reverently closed the Book. "Thank God--oh, thank +God for that life of suffering and sorrow! He knows our human needs. He +trod the winepress alone, and must I, His unworthy servant, expect to +escape? So, my Father, do with me what is best. 'Not my will, but Thine be +done.'"</p> + +<p>At this moment Nellie entered the room. She noticed the changed expression +upon her father's face, and, crossing to where he was, stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel better, father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. My heart was very heavy a short time ago, but it is lighter +now. I seem to see my way more clearly. The darkness has passed, and a new +peace has come to me. Will you sing something for me, dearie?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, father. What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother's favorite hymn. The one she sang just before she left us."</p> + +<p>Taking her seat at the little harmonium, Nellie gently touched the keys, +and in a clear, sweet voice sang the old favourite hymn:</p> + +<blockquote> "The sands of Time are sinking,<br> + The dawn of Heaven breaks,<br> + The summer morn I've sighed for.<br> + The fair, sweet morn awakes.<br> + Dark, dark has been the midnight,<br> + But dayspring is at hand,<br> + And glory, glory dwelleth<br> + In Emmanuel's land."</blockquote> + +<p>Softly she sang the whole hymn through, her father leaning back in his +chair with closed eyes, drinking in every word and sound.</p> + +<blockquote> "I're wrestled on towards Heaven,<br> + 'Gainst storm and wind and tide;<br> + Lord, grant thy weary traveller<br> + To lean on Thee as guide."</blockquote> + +<p>"That's what I must do now, Nellie. 'Lean on Him as guide.' Oh, it gives +me such comfort. And He will guide right; we must never doubt that."</p> + +<p>When the Bishop had finished his investigation in the vestry, he sighed as +he closed his small grip and left the church. Slowly he walked up the road +lost in deep thought. There were numerous things which disturbed his mind. +He had listened to what the people had to say, but everything was so +vague. Yet there was some mystery, he believed, connected with the whole +matter. That missing gold, the Rector's need of money and then the +purchase of the farm were still shrouded in darkness. Thinking thus he +reached the Larkins' house where he had been invited to tea.</p> + +<p>"It will help Nellie to have the Bishop here," Mrs. Larkins had said to +her husband, "for she has enough care at the present time."</p> + +<p>Keenly she watched the Bishop's face as he came into the house, hoping to +obtain some clue to his thoughts. To her the trouble at the Rectory was as +her own, and she longed to know the outcome of the investigation. At first +she dreaded the thought of having the Bishop to tea. Had she not often +heard of his sharp, abrupt manner? Anxiously she scanned the tea-table, +with its spotless linen, with everything so neatly arranged, and wondered +what she had omitted. Her fears were soon dispelled, however, for the +Bishop made himself perfectly at home. It was a pleasure to him to sit at +the table with these two true, honest souls, of whom he had heard much +from Parson John. They were so natural, and made no effort to be what they +were not.</p> + +<p>"You must be tired, my Lord," said Mrs. Larkins, "after this trying day."</p> + +<p>"Not so much tired as puzzled," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"And did you get no light on the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. Look at all those notes I took--not worth the paper on which +they are written. Everything is hearsay--nothing definite. And yet there +is some mystery attached to the whole affair. I am sorely puzzled about +that missing gold and where the Rector obtained the money to buy that +farm."</p> + +<p>"And didn't he tell you, my Lord?" asked Mrs. Larkins, pausing in the act +of pouring the tea.</p> + +<p>"No, he will not tell me. He is as silent as the grave. When I pressed him +to speak and thus clear himself, he begged me with tears in his eyes not +to urge him. 'It's honest money,' he said, 'which purchased the farm, but +I can tell you no more now.'"</p> + +<p>"You have heard, my Lord, that he is involved in some mining transaction +out in British Columbia. It is now in litigation and the parson is +contributing all he possibly can."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I learned of that to-day, and it only tends to complicate matters. I +cannot believe that your Rector had anything to do with that gold. But oh, +if he would only explain. Are you sure that that box is not still among +the ashes and ruins of the old house?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain it is not there," Mr. Larkins replied. "We have searched the +place thoroughly, and even sifted the ashes, but all in vain. Not a trace +could we find of the box or the gold."</p> + +<p>The evening was somewhat advanced as the Bishop bade the Larkins +good-night and made his way over to the Rectory. He found Parson John +seated in a deep chair, gazing silently before him. Nellie was sitting +near reading, or trying to read. She greeted the Bishop with a bright +smile, drew up a chair for him to the pleasant fire, and took his hat and +coat.</p> + +<p>"Have I kept you up, Nellie?" he asked. "Your father must be tired."</p> + +<p>"No, no, my Lord," she replied. "It is not late yet. But you must be +tired."</p> + +<p>"A little, my dear. The day has been somewhat trying."</p> + +<p>From the time he had entered Parson John had kept his eyes fixed full upon +the Bishop's face with a mute, questioning look which spoke louder than +words. "What have you found out?" He seemed to be saying. "What stories +have they been telling about me? Who have been my foes and friends?"</p> + +<p>"The vestry was converted into quite a court-room to-day," said the +Bishop, reading the questioning look in the parson's face. "There were +certainly several lively scenes, especially when Mrs. Stickles made her +appearance."</p> + +<p>"You have reached a conclusion then, I suppose?" and Mr. Westmore leaned +eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet. I cannot give my decision now. I want to think it carefully +over, and shall notify you by letter."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, my Lord, for the trouble you have taken in the matter," and +the parson resumed his former position. "But I have been thinking deeply +since hearing these reports concerning me, and my mind is made up as to +the course I shall pursue."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and in what way?" queried the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning I shall hand to you my resignation of this parish."</p> + +<p>The effect of these words was startling, and Nellie's face went very white +as she glanced quickly at her father.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean it?" inquired the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my Lord. I have not come to this decision without much thought, +prayer, and struggle. I have been too blind. I forgot how old I am, though +God knows my heart is as young as ever. It's only natural that the people +of Glendow should desire a change; a man who will infuse new life into the +work, and draw in the wandering and indifferent ones. May God forgive me +that I did not think of it before!"</p> + +<p>His head drooped low as he uttered these words, and the pathos of his +voice denoted the intensity of his feelings. It was impossible not to be +much moved at the figure of this venerable man, this veteran warrior of +his church, without one word of complaint, willing to relinquish all, to +give up the command to another, that the Master's work might be +strengthened. The Bishop was visibly affected, although he endeavoured to +conceal his emotion.</p> + +<p>"Westmore," he replied, "I always believed you to be a noble man of God, +though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you +leave Glendow? How will you live?"</p> + +<p>"I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; +He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in +my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his +wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit. +We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will +open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere +He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six +months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid +of me."</p> + +<p>"Why not sell that farm you purchased?" suggested the Bishop. "It should +bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot +place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy +soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then."</p> + +<p>"I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"But you bought it; it is yours."</p> + +<p>"It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!"</p> + +<p>The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained +the Bishop from saying more on the subject.</p> + +<p>"And so you think you must go?" he remarked after a painful silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see nothing else to do."</p> + +<p>"But remember all have not turned against you. See this list," and the +Bishop handed over the petition Mrs. Stickles had given him.</p> + +<p>Eagerly the parson read the words, and scanned the names scrawled below.</p> + +<p>"And did Mrs. Stickles do this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She went up and down the parish for three days."</p> + +<p>"God bless the woman!" murmured Mr. Westmore. "What a comfort this is to +me; to know that all have not deserted me. I did not expect it. But it +will not change my mind. My eyes have been suddenly opened to my own +inability to do the work. Another will do much better. I've explained +everything to you, my Lord, that I can explain, and about that horse-race, +too. It is better for me to go."</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nellie, "let us go to Uncle Reuben's for a month or so. You +need a rest, and a vacation will do you good. Perhaps then you will see +things differently."</p> + +<p>"Capital idea!" exclaimed the Bishop. "It's just the thing! Go to your +brother's and stay there for a month or two."</p> + +<p>"But what about the parish? It will be left vacant the whole of that time. +If I resign a new Rector can take charge at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will arrange for that," responded the Bishop. "There is a young man +fresh from college who will be ordained shortly. I will send him here +during your absence. We will thus give the people a change, and then, no +doubt, they will be glad enough to have you back again."</p> + +<p>Parson John sat for some time in deep meditation, while Nellie watched him +with an anxious face. The clock in the room ticked loudly, and the fire +crackled in the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he assented at length with a deep sigh. "If you think it +best, my Lord, that this should be done I shall not oppose your wish. But +I am firmly convinced that it will be just the same as if I resigned. When +once the new man comes and begins the work, the people will not want their +old Rector back again. But, nevertheless, it will be all for the best. 'My +times are in His hands,' and I feel sure that ever 'underneath are the +Everlasting Arms.'"</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_22"></a>Chapter XXII</h1> + +<h2>In the Deep of the Heart</h2> + + + +<p>It did not take long for the news of Parson John's intended departure to +spread throughout Glendow.</p> + +<p>Tongues were once more loosened and numerous conjectures made.</p> + +<p>"Guess the Bishop found things pretty crooked," remarked one, "an' thinks +it high time for the parson to get out."</p> + +<p>"I've thought the same myself," replied another. "The parson's been +dabblin' too much in furren affairs. As I was tellin' my missus last +night, we never know what will happen next. When them as is leaders goes +astray, what kin be expected of the sheep? I've given a bag of pertaters +each year to support the church, but dang me if I do it any more!"</p> + +<p>But while some saw only the dark side and believed the parson to be +guilty, there were others who stood nobly by him in his time of trial. +Various were the calls made, some people driving for miles to say +good-bye, and to express their regrets at his departure.</p> + +<p>Among the number was Mrs. Stickles. She was the first to arrive, and, +bustling out of the old broken-down wagon, she seized the parson's hand in +a mighty grip as he met her at the gate.</p> + +<p>"God bless ye, sir!" she ejaculated. "I'm more'n delighted to see ye. I +was on me knees scrubbin' the kitchen floor when Patsy Garlick dropped in +an' told me the news. It so overcome me that I flopped right down an' +bawled like a calf."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" replied the Rector. "What's wrong? did you receive bad +news? I hope nothing's the matter with Tony."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I don't mean 'im, sir, though I ain't heered from 'im fer months +now. He's so shet up thar in the woods that it's hard to hear. But I feel +he's all right, fer if he wasn't I'd soon know about it. No, it's not fer +'im I bawled, but fer you an' the darlin' lass. To think that ye are to +leave us so soon!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," and the parson placed his hand to his forehead. "Thank you +very much for your kindness, Mrs. Stickles, and for what you did +concerning that petition. So you have come all the way to bid us good-bye. +You must go into the house at once, and have a bite with us. I shall send +Dan to give the horse some hay."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, sir. I didn't come expectin' to be taken in an' fed, but seein' +as it'll be some time afore I hev sich a privilege agin, I don't mind if I +do."</p> + +<p>Spring had now come in real earnest. The days were balmy, the sun poured +its bright rays upon hill and valley, and the snow disappeared as if by +magic. Thousands of streams and rivulets rushed racing down to the river, +sparkling and babbling, glad of their release from winter's stern grip. +The early birds had returned, filling the air with their sweet music, and +the trees, awakened from their long slumber, were putting forth their +green buds. Everything spoke of freshness and peace.</p> + +<p>But within the Rectory there was an unusual silence. A gloom pervaded the +house, which even Nellie's sunny presence could not dispel. Dan had +disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. He had departed in the +night so silently that even Nellie's ever-watchful ear did not hear his +footsteps upon the floor. They knew no reason why the lad should do such a +thing, and anxiously they discussed the matter over the breakfast-table. +Inquiries were made throughout the parish, which only served to set +tongues wagging more than ever.</p> + +<p>"I knew when the parson took him in," said one knowing person, "that +something 'ud happen. Ye can never tell about sich waifs. They generally +amount to nuthin' or worse."</p> + +<p>Nellie missed Dan very much. She had come to love the lad with all his +quaint ways and dreamy far-away look. He had always been so ready to do +anything for her, and often she found him watching her with wondering +eyes. In her heart she could not believe that the boy had run away because +he was tired of living at the Rectory. She felt sure there must be some +other reason, and often she puzzled her brain trying to solve the problem.</p> + +<p>As the days passed preparations were made for their departure. There was +much to do, for numerous things they must take with them. The parson took +but little interest in what was going on. He seemed to be living in +another world. So long had he lived at the Rectory that the building had +become almost a part of himself. How many sacred associations were +attached to each room! Here his children had been born; here he had +watched them grow, and from that front door three times had loving hands +borne forth three bodies,--two, oh, so young and tender--to their last +earthly resting-place in the little churchyard. In youth it is not so hard +to sever the bonds which unite us to a loved spot. They have not had time +fully to mature, and new associations are easily made and the first soon +forgotten. But in old age it is different. New connections are not easily +formed, and the mind lives so much in the past, with those whom we have +"loved long since and lost awhile."</p> + +<p>It was hard for Nellie to watch her father as the days sped by. From room +to room he wandered, standing for some time before a familiar object, now +a picture and again a piece of furniture. Old chords of memory were +awakened. They were simple, common household effects of little intrinsic +value. But to him they were fragrant with precious associations, like old +roses pressed between the pages of a book, recalling dear and far-off, +half-forgotten days.</p> + +<p>Nellie, too, felt keenly the thought of leaving the Rectory. It had been +her only home. Here had she been born, and here, too, had she known so +much happiness. Somehow she felt it would never again be the same; that +the parting of the ways had at last arrived. Her mind turned often towards +Stephen. She had seen him but little of late. Formerly he had been so much +at the Rectory. Seldom a day had passed that she did not see him. But now +it was so different. Sometimes for a whole week, and already it had been a +fortnight since he had been there. She knew how busy he was bringing his +logs down to the river. He had told her that stream driving would soon +begin, when every hour would be precious to catch the water while it +served. She knew this, and yet the separation was harder than she had +expected. There was an ache in her heart which she could not describe. +Often she chided herself at what she called her foolishness. But every +evening while sitting in the room she would start at any footstep on the +platform, and a deep flush would suffuse her face. She had come to realize +during the time of waiting what Stephen really meant to her.</p> + +<p>Thus while Nellie worked and thought in the Rectory, Stephen with his men +was urging his drive of logs down the rough and crooked Pennack stream. +How he did work! There was no time to be lost, for the water might +suddenly fall off and leave the logs stranded far from the river. All day +long he wrestled with the monsters of the forest. At night there was the +brief rest, then up and on again in the morning. But ever as he handled +the peevy there stood before him the vision of the sweet-faced woman at +the Rectory. She it was who had moved him to action, and inspired him. +through days of discouragement. His deep love for her was transforming him +into a man. He longed to go to her, to comfort her in her time of trouble. +But he must not leave his work now. Too much depended upon that drive +coming out, and she would understand. So day by day he kept to his task, +and not until the last log had shot safely into the boom in the creek +below did he throw down his peevy. It was late in the evening as he sprang +ashore and started up the road. His heart was happy. He had accomplished +the undertaking he had set out to perform.</p> + +<p>And while Stephen trudged homeward Nellie sat in the little sitting-room, +her fingers busy with her needle. All things had been completed for their +departure, which was to take place on the morrow. Parson John had retired +early to rest, and Nellie was doing a little sewing which was needed. The +fire burned in the grate as usual, for the evening was chill, and the +light from the lamp flooded her face and hair with a soft, gentle +radiance. Perfect type of womanhood was she, graceful in form, fair in +feature, the outward visible signs of a pure and inward spiritual +nobleness.</p> + +<p>So did she seem to the man standing outside and looking upon her through +the window with fond, loving eyes. His knock upon the door startled the +quiet worker. She rose to her feet, moved forward, and then hesitated. Who +could it be at such an hour? for it was almost eleven o'clock. Banishing +her fear she threw open the door, and great was her surprise to behold the +one of whom she had just been thinking standing there. For a brief space +of time neither spoke, but stood looking into each other's eyes. Then, +"Stephen," said Nellie, and her voice trembled, "I didn't expect to see +you to-night. Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"No, not with me," Stephen replied as he entered. "But with you, Nellie, +there is trouble, and I want to tell you how I feel for you. I wanted to +come before; but you understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, Stephen," and Nellie took a chair near the fire.</p> + +<p>As Stephen looked down upon her as she sat there, how he longed to put his +strong arm about her and comfort her. He had planned to say many things +which he had thought out for days before. But nothing now would come to +his lips. He stood as if stricken dumb.</p> + +<p>"Nellie."</p> + +<p>"Stephen."</p> + +<p>Silence reigned in the room. Their hearts beat fast. Each realized what +that silence meant, and yet neither spoke. With a great effort Stephen +crushed back the longing to tell her all that was in his heart, and to +claim her for his own. Would she refuse? He did not believe so. But he was +not worthy of her love--no, not yet. He must prove himself a man first. He +must redeem the homestead, and then he would speak. Sharp and fierce was +the struggle raging in his breast. He had thought it would be a simple +matter to come and talk to her on this night. He would bid her a +conventional good-bye, and go back to his work, cheered and strengthened. +But he little realized how his heart would be stirred by her presence as +she sat there bowed in trouble.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," he said at length, taking a seat near by. "I'm very sorry you're +going away. What will the place be like without you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sorry to go, Stephen," was the low reply. "'Tis hard to go away +from home, especially under--under a cloud."</p> + +<p>"But, surely, Nellie, you don't think the people believe those stories?"</p> + +<p>"No, not all. But some do, and it's so hard on father. He has had so much +trouble lately with that mining property in British Columbia, and now this +has come."</p> + +<p>Stephen sat thinking for a while before he spoke. When at last he did he +looked searchingly into Nellie's face.</p> + +<p>"There is something which puzzles me very much, and partly for that reason +I have come to see you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Anything more in connection with father, Stephen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Nora has been worse of late, and the doctor said that the only hope +of curing her was to send her to New York to a specialist. Mother was very +much depressed, for we have no means, and under the circumstances it is so +hard to hire money. I had about made up my mind to get some money advanced +on the logs. I would do anything for Nora's sake. The next day your father +came to see her, and mother was telling him what the doctor said, and how +much he thought it would cost. Two days later your father sent mother a +cheque for the full amount, with a letter begging her to keep the matter +as quiet as possible. I cannot understand it at all. I know your father is +in great need of money, and yet he can spare that large sum. Do you know +anything about it?"</p> + +<p>Nellie listened to these words with fast beating heart. She knew her +father had been over to bid Mrs. Frenelle and Nora good-bye, but he had +said nothing to her about giving the money. The mystery was certainly +deepening. Where had that money come from? A sudden thought stabbed her +mind. She banished it instantly, however, while her face crimsoned to +think that she should believe anything so unworthy of her father.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," Stephen questioned, after he had waited some time for her to +speak, "do you know anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"No, Stephen; nothing. It is all a great puzzle. But it is honest money! +Never doubt that! Father keeps silence for some purpose, I am sure. He +will tell us some day. We must wait and be patient!"</p> + +<p>She was standing erect now, her eyes glowing with the light of +determination, and her small, shapely hands were clenched. She had thought +of what people would say if they heard this. It would be like oil to fire. +No, they must never know it.</p> + +<p>"Stephen," she cried, "promise me before God that you will not tell anyone +outside of your family about that money!"</p> + +<p>"I promise, Nellie. Did you think I would tell? I know mother and Nora +will not. Did you doubt me?"</p> + +<p>"No, Stephen, I did not doubt you. But, oh, I do not know what to think +these days! My mind is in such a whirl all the time, and my heart is so +heavy over the puzzling things which have happened. I just long to lie +down and rest, rest, forever."</p> + +<p>"You're tired, Nellie," replied Stephen, as he straightened himself up in +an effort to control his own feelings. "You must rest now, and you will be +stronger to-morrow. Good-bye, Nellie, God bless you," and before she could +say a word he had caught her hand in his, kissed it fervently, flung open +the door, and disappeared into the night.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_23"></a>Chapter XXIII</h1> + +<h2>Where Is Dan?</h2> + + + +<p>During the whole of this time of excitement Dan had been doing his own +share of thinking. He heard the rumours of the parish, listened to the +stories told at the store or blacksmith shop, tucked them away in his +retentive mind, and brooded over them by day and night. The purpose which +had taken possession of him as he sat by the parson's side during his +lonely watch in Stephen's camp grew stronger as the days passed by. He +told no one, not even Nellie, what was in his mind. It was a sacred thing +to him, and he dreamed over it, as a mother over her unborn child. Not +until the dream had become a reality, a living deed, must the world know +of it.</p> + +<p>Formerly he had been indifferent as to his studies. His listless manner +was a great cause of worry to Nellie. But after the accident a change took +place. His eagerness to know how to write surprised her. Often she found +him painfully scrawling huge letters upon any old piece of paper he +happened to find. Time and time again he asked her how to spell certain +words, and when she had printed them for him he copied them over and over +again with the greatest care. Every day he watched the mail-carrier as he +rattled by in his rude buckboard. To him this man was a wonderful being. +Knowing nothing of the postal system, Dan imagined that Si Tower conducted +the whole business himself. "How much he must know," he thought, "and what +long journeys he must take." It was therefore with considerable +trepidation he one day stood by the roadside watching the postman rattling +along.</p> + +<p>"Hello, kid! Watcher want?" was Si's salutation as he pulled in his old +nag, and glared down upon the boy.</p> + +<p>"You give this to Tony, please," and Dan held up a little folded slip of +paper.</p> + +<p>Tower looked at the paper, and turned over the wad of tobacco in his cheek +before replying. Then a quaint twinkle shone in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't take that," he said. "'Tain't lawful. No stamp. Say, kid, guess +the only way fer ye to deliver that is to take it yerself. Git up, Bess," +and with a hearty laugh the postman swung on his way, and all that day +told the story wherever he stopped.</p> + +<p>"Ye should have seen his face an' eyes," he chuckled. "It was as good as a +circus. Thar was no stamp on the letter, an' when I told 'im to go himself +an' deliver it, he jist stared at me. Ha, ha, it was too funny fer +anything."</p> + +<p>But Dan, as he stood in the road watching Tower drive away, did not see +anything funny. His faith in the postman had received a rude shock. His +hero was made of common clay after all. He sighed as he walked back to the +house, clutching in his hands the little crumpled piece of paper. As the +days passed and the new trouble arose at the Rectory, Dan became very +restless. He knew of everything that was going on, and when the Bishop +arrived he gazed upon him with awe mingled with fear and anger. Often he +would draw forth the letter, from a deep, capacious pocket, and look long +and carefully upon it.</p> + +<p>At length the moment arrived when his mind was fully made up. He bade +Nellie and her father good-night, and crept upstairs to his own little +room. For some time he sat upon the bed lost in thought. He heard Nellie +come up the stairs and enter her own room. Drawing up the blind and +turning down the light, he looked out of the window. How dark it was, and +dismal. He would wait awhile until it became lighter. Throwing himself +upon the bed without undressing, he drew a quilt over him and ere long was +fast asleep. When he opened his eyes a dim light was struggling in through +the window, and contending slowly with the blackness of night. Dan was +sleepy, and the bed so comfortable, that he longed to stay where he was. +But this feeling was soon overcome, and springing to his feet he stood +listening and alert, as a creature of the wild startled from its lair. Not +a sound disturbed the house. Everything was wrapped in silence. Quietly he +moved out of his room, and crept softly down the stairs, fearful lest at +every creak Nellie should be aroused. Reaching the kitchen he put on his +shoes, which he had left by the stove. Next he went into the pantry, found +some cold meat, bread, cheese and biscuits. A paper bag lying near was +soon filled and securely tied with a stout string. Dan sighed as he donned +his cap, drew on his mittens, closed the back door, and stood by the +little outside porch. In his heart he felt it was wrong to go away without +telling Nellie and her father where he was going. But on the other hand he +was quite sure they would not be willing for him to go so far away, and +besides he did not wish to tell them anything until the deed had been +accomplished.</p> + +<p>The early morning air was cool, clear and crisp. The sun had not yet +risen, but far away in the eastern sky the glory of another new-born day +was clearly visible. Dan's heart responded to the freshness and the beauty +which lay around him. As the daylight increased the feeble chirp of +half-awakened birds fell upon his ears. The old longing for the wild +filled his soul. He thought of his father, the little cabin in the valley, +and the woodland haunts he knew and loved so dearly. His eyes sparkled +with animation, and the blood tingled and surged through his body. He felt +like shouting at the mere joy of being alive.</p> + +<p>"Guess I must be like the bears," he thought. "They stay in their dens all +winter and come out in the spring. I'm just like one now."</p> + +<p>He knew the direction, for had he not listened time and time again to the +conversations in the store? The talk had often turned upon Rodgers & +Peterson's big lumbering operations in Big Creek Valley. Yes, he was sure +he could find the place. Up the river to Rocky Point, from thence along a +big cove, then over a hill and down into a valley. He had dreamed of the +way; how long it would take him, and what he would say when he got there. +All day long he plodded steadily onward, and when night shut down he +stopped by a large stack of hay which had been brought from the lowlands +when the river was frozen. He was tired, and the soft hay inviting. Into +this he crawled, and ere long was fast asleep. Early the next morning he +was up and on again. His supply of food was now getting low. At noon he +ruefully viewed the little that was left. "Enough only for supper," he +murmured. "Maybe I'll get there to-morrow."</p> + +<p>During the day he learned from several people he met that he was on the +right road. They had looked with interest upon the little figure, and +asked him numerous questions. But Dan gave only indefinite answers. He +wished to go to Big Creek Valley to Rodgers & Peterson's lumber camp. When +the second night arrived he was very weary and footsore. He had eaten his +last scrap of food before sundown, and as he trudged on he wondered what +he would do in the morning. He disliked the idea of asking at any of the +farm-houses for food. His father had always scoffed at tramps and beggars. +"They are spongers," he had often said, "and people cannot afford to have +such useless people around."</p> + +<p>That word "sponger" as it came to Dan caused him to straighten himself up +and step forward more quickly. He was not a sponger now. His face flushed +at Farrington's insult. He would show the whole world that he could pay +for his keep, and if he could not do it in one way, he would in another.</p> + +<p>That night no friendly haystack stood by the road-side, but over there in +the field he saw a barn near a farm-house. He could find shelter in that. +Waiting until it was dark, he crept cautiously through a small sheep door, +and entered. He heard in another part of the building the cattle munching +the last of their evening meal. It was good to know that they were near, +and that he was not altogether alone. As he threw himself upon a small +bunch of straw which he found as he felt around with his hands, a great +feeling of loneliness came over him. He longed for the Rectory and a +glimpse of Nellie's face. Was she thinking of him, he wondered, or had she +forgotten him, and believed him to be an ungrateful scamp? He clenched his +hands, and the blood surged to his face as he thought of it. No, he would +show her he was not a scamp, but a real man. Oh, she should know what he +could do!</p> + +<p>Thinking thus he found himself no longer in the barn, but back again at +the Rectory. He could see the fire burning brightly on the hearth, and a +number of people standing around. They were all looking upon him, and he +saw the doctor there, too. But Nellie's face riveted his attention. She +was gazing upon him with such a deep look of love. And yet it did not seem +altogether like Nellie, and, when she spoke, it was a different voice. +Suddenly a strange sound fell upon his ears. The room at the Rectory +faded, and in ita stead there was the rough barn floor, and the bunch of +straw on which he was lying. For an instant he gazed around him in a +bewildered manner. He could not realize just where he was. A childish +laugh caused him to turn his head, and there looking in at him from a +small door to the left was a little maiden, with curly, auburn hair and +cheeks twin sisters to the rosiest apples that ever grew.</p> + +<p>"Oo azy ittle boy!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Oo must det up. Turn, +daddy, tee azy, azy ittle boy."</p> + +<p>Presently there appeared at her side, a large man, holding a pail in his +left hand.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dearie?" he asked. "What's all the fun and chattering about?"</p> + +<p>"Tee, tee, azy boy," and she pointed with a fat little finger to the +corner of the barn floor.</p> + +<p>By this time Dan had leaped to his feet, and stood confronting the man. He +felt that he was a trespasser, and perhaps he would be punished. But as he +looked into the big man's eyes he read with the instinct of a wild animal +that he had nothing to fear, for only pity shone in those clear, grey +depths.</p> + +<p>"Did you sleep there all night?" the man asked, pointing to the straw.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was the reply. "I hope you're not cross."</p> + +<p>"I'm cross, boy, to think that you didn't come to the house and ask for a +bed."</p> + +<p>"I didn't like to, sir. I didn't like to bother anybody. But I knew +whoever owned the barn wouldn't mind if I slept here. It's a comfortable +place, and I was tired."</p> + +<p>"Did you have any supper last night?" the man asked, looking keenly into +Dan's face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; a piece of bread."</p> + +<p>"What, nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I had a grand drink from that spring back yonder, and with the +good sleep I've had, I think I can manage to-day."</p> + +<p>"Look here, boy, you'll not leave this place until you have your +breakfast. So come. Marion, you found this little stranger, and you must +take him to the house."</p> + +<p>But Dan drew back, as the little maiden toddled up to take him by the +hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't go," he stammered. "I've got no money, and I won't be a sponger."</p> + +<p>"A what?" asked the man.</p> + +<p>"A sponger. I hate a sponger, and so did my father. I'll split wood for my +breakfast if you'll let me, sir, for I am hungry."</p> + +<p>"That's a bargain," said the man, much pleased at the spirit of the boy. +"So hurry off now. I haven't much time to lose."</p> + +<p>Proudly the little maiden conducted her charge to the house, and told in +broken language about her marvellous find. Dan felt much at home with +Marion's mother, and during breakfast he told her where he was going.</p> + +<p>"What! to Rodgers & Peterson's camp!" exclaimed: the big man at the head +of the table. "That's where I'm going myself, and that's why I'm up so +early this morning. I'm glad to hear of that, for I'll have company."</p> + +<p>"But I must split the wood," Dan insisted. "I shall try to earn my +breakfast, but what about the ride?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll give you work along the way," laughed the man. "You'll have +plenty to do, so don't worry."</p> + +<p>While the horses were being harnessed Dan vigorously swung the axe in the +wood-house. Perched upon the door-step Marion watched him with admiring +eyes. He knew that she was looking at him, and his bosom swelled with +pride. He was not a sponger, but a man working for his breakfast. At times +he stole a glance at the little figure sitting there. "How pretty she is," +he thought. "I wish I had a sister like her. He longed to stay there, to +be near the little maiden, and to work for the big, kind man. He sighed as +he laid down the axe, and gazed at the wood he had chopped.</p> + +<p>"It ain't much," he remarked, as he stood ready to climb into the waggon. +"Wish I had more time."</p> + +<p>"It will do," responded the big man. "I am satisfied if you are."</p> + +<p>Dan had no time to answer, for at that instant a little voice sounded +forth. Looking quickly around he beheld Marion hurrying towards him +holding in her hand a small rose.</p> + +<p>"Me div dis to oo, ittle boy," she cried. "It's off my own woes bus. Oo +must teep it."</p> + +<p>Hardly knowing what he did Dan took the little flower, and stood staring +at Marion.</p> + +<p>"Come, lassie," cried her father, catching her in his arms and giving her +a loving hug and a kiss. "Take good care of mother. We must be off."</p> + +<p>"Oo div me tiss, too," and she lifted up her lips to Dan's.</p> + +<p>The latter's face flushed scarlet, and he trembled. Never in his life had +he kissed a little girl like that. What should he do? He longed for the +ground to open or something dreadful to happen. He would have welcomed +anything just then.</p> + +<p>"Tiss me, ittle boy," urged Marion. She had him by the coat now with both +hands, drawing him down to her. There was nothing for him to do. He must +go through the ordeal. Suddenly he bent his head and shut his eyes. His +face came close to hers; he felt her lips touch his cheek, and heard her +childish laugh of delight.</p> + +<p>"Dood ittle boy!" she exclaimed. "Now dood-by. Don't lose my pitty fower."</p> + +<p>Too much confused to say a word Dan scrambled into the waggon, and soon +the horses were speeding off down the lane to the road. For some time he +sat bolt upright on the seat, silent and thoughtful, clutching in his hand +that tiny rose. The big man at his side asked no questions, but seemed +intent solely upon managing his horses. But not a motion of the little lad +at his side escaped his notice. He loved children, and had the rare gift +of understanding them. A faint smile played about his mouth as from the +corner of his eye he saw Dan take a piece of paper from his pocket, shyly +place the rose between the folds and then return it to its former place. +He could not hear the boy's heart thumping hard beneath his jacket, but he +understood, and what more was needed?</p> + +<p>All day long they jogged over the road, stopping only at noon to feed the +horses and eat a lunch Marion's mother had tucked away in the corner of +the waggon. Dan found it easy to talk to the big man sitting by his side. +He told him about his father's death, Parson John, and the accident, to +which his companion listened with much interest. But concerning the object +of his visit to the lumber camp, Dan was silent. Several times he was at +the point of explaining everything, but always he hesitated and determined +to wait.</p> + +<p>"I did not tell Nellie," he said to himself, "and why should I tell a +stranger first?"</p> + +<p>The sun was sinking far westward as they wound their way along a woodland +road. Down to the left the water of Big Creek Brook raced and swirled. +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the rushing torrent as the road +dipped closer to the bank.</p> + +<p>"We should meet the drive ere long," the big man remarked, as he flicked +the horses with his whip. "I'm afraid the logs have jammed in Giant Gorge, +or else they would have been here by this time. It's a bad, rocky place, +and seldom a drive gets through without trouble."</p> + +<p>Presently he pulled up his horses before a little log shack standing to +the right.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave the horses here for the night, boy," he said. "There's a +path down yonder to the left. If you're in a hurry you can take that. It +will lead to the stream, and you can follow it up until you meet the men. +If they ask any questions tell them you came with Big Sam, and everything +will be all right. Take care and don't fall into the water."</p> + +<p>Dan was only too anxious to be on foot. He was cramped from sitting so +long in the waggon. Moreover, he was restless to get to the end of his +journey, and accomplish his business. Thanking the big man, he leaped from +the waggon and was soon speeding down the path, and in a few minutes +reached the edge of the brook, roaring and foaming between its steep +banks. Looking up-stream he could see no sign of the drive, but the +well-beaten path was there, and along this he hurried. Ere long he reached +a bend in the stream and as he rounded this, and lifted up his eyes, a +wild, terrible scene was presented to view. Away to the right he beheld +Giant Gorge, a narrow gash in the rocks, through which the waters were +seething and boiling in wildest commotion. On the hither side a flood of +logs was sweeping and tearing down, like a mighty breastwork suddenly +loosened. Dan started back in terror at the sight, and was about to spring +up the bank to a place of safety, when his eyes rested upon the form of a +man out in the midst of that rush of destruction, vainly trying to free +himself from the watery chasm which had suddenly yawned beneath his feet. +Dan's heart beat wildly at the sight. But only for an instant did he +hesitate. Then forward he leaped like a greyhound. Forgotten was the +rushing torrent, and his own danger. He thought only of that frantically +clinging man. He reached the edge of the stream, leaped upon the nearest +logs, and, with the agility of a wildcat, threaded his way through that +terrible labyrinth of grinding, crashing, heaving monsters.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_24"></a>Chapter XXIV</h1> + +<h2>The Rush of Doom</h2> + + + +<p>To bring a drive of logs down Big Creek Brook required skill, patience and +courage. It was a nasty, crooked stream, filled with sunken rocks, bad +bends and stretches of shallow water. Rodgers & Peterson had their logs in +the stream early, and everything pointed to a successful season's work. +For awhile all went well, but then mishap after mishap held them back. The +logs jammed in several places, and days were lost in getting them cleared. +Then they grounded upon bars and shoals, which caused a great delay. But +the most serious of all was the hold-up in Giant Gorge. This was the most +dreaded spot in the whole stream, and seldom had a drive been brought +through without some disaster. Much blasting had been done, and a number +of obstacles blown away. But for all that there were rocks which defied +the skill of man to remove. Two flinty walls reared their frowning sides +for several rods along the brook. Between these an immense boulder lifted +its head, around which the waters incessantly swirled. But when the stream +was swollen high enough the logs would clear this obstacle at a bound, +like chargers leaping a fence, and plunge into the whirling eddies below.</p> + +<p>When the "R & P" drive, the name by which it was commonly known, reached +Giant Gorge, it was confidently believed that there was enough water to +carry it safely through. But such reckoning was wrong. As the logs came +sweeping down and were sucked into the Gorge they began to crowd, and, +instead of rushing through loose and free, they jammed against the rocky +walls, while a huge monster became wedged on the sunken boulder, and, +acting as a key log, held in check the whole drive. Then began a wild +scene, which once beheld can never be forgotten. Stopped in their mad +career, the logs presented the spectacle of unrestrained passion. The +mighty, heaving, twisting mass groaned, pressed and writhed for freedom, +but with the awful grip of death the sturdy key log held firm. Steadily +the jam increased in size, and whiter threw the foam, as one by one those +giant logs swept crashing down, to be wedged amidst their companions as if +driven by the sledge of Thor.</p> + +<p>The drivers stood upon the bank and watched the logs piling higher and +higher. Well did they know what the delay might mean to Rodgers & +Peterson. Much depended upon that drive coming out, and for it to be held +up during summer meant almost ruin to the firm. They were a hardy body of +men who stood there late that afternoon discussing the matter. They were +great workmen these, well versed in woodland lore. All winter long had +they taken their part in that big lumber operation, and, now that the work +was almost completed, it was certainly aggravating to be thus checked.</p> + +<p>As the men talked, and several lighted their pipes, one strapping fellow +stood on the bank, his eyes fixed upon that immovable key log. During the +whole winter Tony Stickles had been the butt as well as the curiosity of +the men. His long, lank figure was the source of much ridicule, while his +remarks, which were always slow and few, were generally greeted with +merriment. From the first night in camp he had been a marked man. Ere he +threw himself into the rude bunk he had knelt down on the floor in the +presence of them all, and said his evening prayer. A boot had been thrown +at his head, and a laugh had gone about the room. Tony had risen from his +knees, and with a flushed face sought his couch, surprised at the action +on the part of these men. But one middle-aged man of great stature and +strength had watched it all. He sat quietly smoking for several minutes +after the laughter had subsided.</p> + +<p>"Boys," he said at length, taking his pipe from his mouth, "I'm real sorry +at what ye've done to-night. I've six little ones of me own, an' I hope to +God when they grow up they'll not be afeered to kneel down an' do as yon +lad has done to-night. I'm not a good man meself, more's the pity. But +that boy's had a good mother's teachin'. I honour her an' 'im. An' let me +tell ye this, men, if I ketch ye doin' agin what ye did to-night, ye'll +have to reckon with me. So jist try it on, an' I won't give a second +warnin'."</p> + +<p>Jake Purdy calmly resumed his smoking, and the men looked at one another +in silence. They knew very well from certain past unpleasant experiences +what it meant to cross this quiet, plain-spoken man. He said little, and +never entered into a quarrel without some reason. But when he did there +was cause for the stoutest heart to quake.</p> + +<p>Tony listened to it all concealed away in his bunk. His heart thumped +beneath his rough shirt, and he wished to thank Jake for taking his part. +But strive as he might he never had the opportunity. The big woodsman +never seemed to notice him. Days passed into weeks, and still Tony did not +utter the gratitude which was lying in his heart. To him Jake was more +than ordinary--a hero. He watched him as he chopped, and drank in greedily +the few words he let fall from time to time in the camp.</p> + +<p>"Boys, that drive must go through."</p> + +<p>It was the boss who spoke, as he jerked his thumb towards the Gorge. "Yes, +it's got to go through to-night, or it's all up. The water's falling off +fast, and if we wait till to-morrow, we'll wait till next fall. I've +always said there should be a dam at the head of the Gorge, and I say it +now more emphatically than ever. But as it is not there, it's up to us to +get this d--n thing through as best we can. I've never been stuck yet in +bringing out a drive, and I hope this won't be the first time."</p> + +<p>"But what's your plan?" asked one. "Hadn't ye better pick one of us to go +down into that hell-hole, an' cut that key log?"</p> + +<p>"No, that isn't my plan," and the boss scratched the back of his head. +"I'm not going to be responsible for the carcase of any man. If I say to +one 'Go,' and he goes and gets pinched, I'll worry about it to my dying +day. I'd rather go myself first. But if we draw for it, then it's off my +shoulders, and I stand the same chance as the rest of ye. I believe that +whatever is to be will be, and the right man to go down there will be +chosen. Do you agree to that, boys?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," came the response. "Go ahead, Tim. We'll stand by the +agreement."</p> + +<p>Some brown paper was accordingly found, and cut with a big jack-knife into +twenty pieces, according to the number of the men. On one of these a large +X was marked with a blue lead-pencil, which one of the men had in his +pocket. A tin lunch can was next produced, and into this the pieces of +paper were all thrown and the cover shut down tight. When the can had been +thoroughly shaken, the men came up one by one, shut their eyes, put in +their hands and drew forth a slip. A tense silence reigned during this +performance, and the hearts of these sturdy men beat fast as each glanced +at his paper to see what it contained. Jake Purdy was one of the last to +approach, and, thrusting in a huge, hairy hand, jerked forth his piece, +and as he looked upon it his face turned pale, though he said not a word +as he held up the slip for all to see the fatal X scrawled upon it. At +that instant Tony Stickles started forward, and confronted Jake. His eyes +were wide with excitement, and his long, lank figure was drawn up to its +full height.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't go!" he cried. "No, no! You've got six little ones at home, +an' a wife who wants ye. I'll go in yer place."</p> + +<p>Big Jake looked at Tony in surprise, and into his strong, determined face +came an expression of tenderness which the men had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"No, lad," he replied, "it can't be. The lot's fallen to me, an' I'm the +one to do it. I thank ye kindly all the same."</p> + +<p>Tony waited to hear no more. His eyes glanced upon an axe lying near. +Springing towards this he seized it, and before a restraining hand could +be laid upon him he bounded towards the Gorge, sprang down the bank and +leaped upon the logs.</p> + +<p>Big Jake rushed after him, calling and imploring him to come back. But his +cries were unheeded. Tony was now between the rocky walls, working his way +over those tossed and twisted monsters, deaf to all entreaties from the +shore.</p> + +<p>"Come back, Jake!" roared the men from behind. "It's no use for you to go +now. He's taken the matter into his own hands, an' one's enough."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly he obeyed, and stood with the rest watching with breathless +interest to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>Tony had now reached the front of the jam, and was carefully picking his +way to the gripping key log. Balancing himself as well as he could he +chose a spot where the strain was the greatest. Then the axe cleaved the +air, the keen blade bit the wood, and the whirling chips played about his +head. Deeper and deeper the steel ate into the side of the giant spruce. +Suddenly a report like a cannon split the air, the axe was hurled like a +rocket out into midstream to sink with a splash into the foaming eddies. +Tony turned, leaped like lightning back upon the main body of logs, and +started for the shore. But he was too late. With a roar of pent-up wrath +the mighty drive moved forward. Down through the Gorge it surged, gaining +in speed every instant from the terrible pressure behind. And down with it +went Tony, enwrapped with foam and spray. Nobly he kept his feet. He +leaped from one log to another. He dodged monster after monster, which +rose on end and threatened to strike him down. It was a wild race with +death. Should he miss his footing or lose his head only for an instant he +would have been ground to pieces in that rush of doom. The watching men +stood as if transfixed to the spot. They saw him speeding onward and +drawing nearer to the shore at the sharp bend in the stream. It looked as +if he would gain the bank, and a cheer of encouragement rang out over the +waters. But the words had scarcely died upon their lips ere they beheld +the logs part asunder right beneath Tony's feet, and with a wild cry he +plunged into the rushing current below. Frantically he clutched at the +nearest logs, and endeavoured to pull himself up from that watery grave. +At times he managed to draw himself part way out, but the swirling waters +sucked him down. It needed only a little help, but the logs were wet and +slippery, and there was nothing on which to obtain a firm grip. His body +was becoming numb from the icy waters, and at each terrible struggle he +felt himself growing weaker. He knew he could last but little longer in +such a position. Was he to drown there? His thoughts flashed to his little +home in Glendow. Were they thinking of him? he wondered. What would his +mother say when they carried her the news? Oh, if he could only feel her +strong hand in his now, how soon he would be lifted from that awful place. +Suddenly there came into his mind her parting words when he had left home.</p> + +<p>"Tony," she had said, "ye may be often in danger out thar in the woods. +But remember what the good Lord said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble +an' I will deliver ye.'"</p> + +<p>And there in the midst of that swirling death he lifted up his voice. "Oh, +Lord!" he cried, "help me! save me!"</p> + +<p>And even as he prayed, and made one more mighty struggle, a small hand +reached out and grasped his. It was all that was needed. He felt the +watery grip loosen, and numbed to the bone he sprawled his full length +across a big log at Dan's feet. And not a moment too soon had that helping +hand been stretched forth, for glancing back he saw the logs had closed +again, grinding and tearing as before. They had struck a wild eddy and all +was confusion. He staggered to his feet at the shock and barely escaped a +huge log which suddenly shot up from below. But Dan was not so fortunate, +for a glancing blow sent him reeling back, a helpless, pathetic little +figure. Tony was all alert now. Leaping forward he caught the unconscious +boy in his arms, and started for the shore. Then began a fierce, +determined fight, a hand-to-hand encounter with cold, relentless death. +Step by step Tony staggered forward, baffled here, retreating a few paces +there, but steadily gaining. At first he did not mind Dan's weight, but +after a few minutes the burden began to tell. He was weak anyway from the +terrible strain and experience through which he had recently passed. Could +he hold out until he reached the shore? His face was drawn and tense; his +eyes stared wildly upon those rolling, moving, writhing things beneath his +feet. They seemed like thousands of serpents trying to capture him as he +leaped from one to the other. His brain reeled; he was falling, but at +that moment he felt strong arms about him. His burden was snatched away. +He heard voices, friendly, encouraging and cheering, and then, oblivion.</p> + +<p>When Tony opened his eyes he found himself lying upon the shore with +several men standing near, watching him with keen interest. There was no +merriment or ridicule in their faces now, but only anxiety and sympathy. +The hearts of these rough men had been touched by what they had recently +witnessed. Most of them were with the drive, but a few had been told off +to look after the two lads.</p> + +<p>"Where's that boy?" asked Tony as the terrible scene flashed back into his +mind.</p> + +<p>"Over there," replied one, jerking his thumb to the left.</p> + +<p>"Is he all right?" was Tony's next query.</p> + +<p>"Can't say. He's not come to yet."</p> + +<p>At this Tony struggled to his feet, and walked slowly over to where Dan +was lying, unconscious still, and breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"Who is he? Where did he come from?" were the questions which these men +asked one another as they rubbed Dan's body, and bathed his forehead.</p> + +<p>Something white sticking from a little pocket in Dan's coat caught Tony's +eye. Reaching down he drew it forth, and as he did so the little crushed +rose dropped to the ground. One of the men picked it up and holding it in +his big, rough hand looked curiously upon it. But Tony did not notice the +flower, for his eyes were fixed upon the paper on which he saw his own +name. Slowly and with difficulty he spelled out the queer letters scrawled +there.</p> + +<p>"deR toNy," so the missive began. "cUm hoM qiK they say paRson John sTol +ol bilees goLD i tHINK yoU nO weR IT ISS</p> + +<p>"yeR friEND TruLEE</p> + +<p>"<i>Dan</i>."</p> + +<p>Tony held the letter in his hand for some minutes and stared at those +quaint words. He had heard from his mother of the death of old Billy and +the burning of his house. But of the trouble later he knew nothing, for +letters from home had been few. Now a new light dawned upon his mind. +Something must be wrong, and this lad had come all the way for him! But +who was Dan? He had never seen nor heard of him before.</p> + +<p>"As he stood there Big Sam drew near. He started with surprise as he saw +the boy lying on the ground, his little pale face resting upon a rough +coat.</p> + +<p>"What! what's this?" he exclaimed. "Why, this is the boy who came with me +to-day! Has he fallen into the stream? I warned him to be careful."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! poor boy!" he remarked when the story of the brave deed had +been related. "Do you think he's badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say," replied one. "But do ye know who he is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," and Big Sam in a few words told all that he knew.</p> + +<p>"We must get him away from this as soon as possible," said the former +speaker. "He needs the doctor. Where had we better take him?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, boys," said Sam after a moment's thought. "As soon as those +horses have munched their oats they shall head for home. I'll take the boy +with me, and my wife will care for him. The doctor lives near."</p> + +<p>Tony stood by listening to it all with his eyes fixed intently upon Dan's +face, while his hand still clutched the letter. He was weak, and ready to +drop. But a burning desire throbbed within his breast. He partly realized +the situation at Glendow. There was trouble, deep, serious trouble, and he +was needed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_25"></a>Chapter XXV</h1> + +<h2>Beneath the Ashes</h2> + + + +<p>Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on +the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs. Not a ripple disturbed +the surface of the noble river, or the waters of the little creek lying +between its semi-wooded banks. It was a balmy spring evening when the +whole world seemed at peace. On a night such as this new longings and +aspirations swell the heart, and the blood tingles joyfully through the +body. Stephen had remained after the rest of the men had gone home. He +wished to examine the logs to see that the work was well done. As he now +stood on the shore his thoughts were not upon the glassy river or Nature's +loveliness. His mind was disturbed. All through the winter he had been +looking forward to the time when the logs would be floating there secured +by their wooden bonds. He had planned to have Nellie come to see the +completion of his work. He knew how she would rejoice at what he had +accomplished, and in his mind he had heard her words of congratulation. +But now all was changed. The work was done, but Nellie was not there to +behold his victory. How lonely seemed the parish since her departure. He +had thrown himself with great energy into his task, and the days had sped +by. But, try as he might, he could not free himself from the weight which +pressed upon his heart. Everything in the parish moved on as before. The +new clergyman came, and service had been held in the church as usual. Many +spoke favourably of the new man. He was young, full of spirit, and a +clear, forcible speaker. But to Stephen it was not the same as formerly. +He missed the white-haired, venerable man in his accustomed place. The +moment he entered the church his eyes sought the seat where Nellie always +sat. It was empty. That form so dear to him was not there. He saw her +Prayer Book and Hymn Book in the little rack, and a lump came into his +throat, as he knew they would not be used.</p> + +<p>He thought of these things, standing there on the shore. His tall, manly +figure was drawn to its full height. He gazed straight before. It was a +far-off vision he beheld, and suddenly there came into his heart a peace +such as he had not known since she left. She seemed to be very near, +standing right by his side. He saw her face, beheld her eyes looking into +his, and heard her voice bidding him to be of good cheer, and to look up.</p> + +<p>A sound near by startled him. He glanced quickly around, half expecting to +see Nellie standing there. Instead, however, he beheld the tall, lank form +of Tony Stickles approaching. His face was gaunt, his step weak and slow. +But Stephen did not notice these, so surprised was he to see him.</p> + +<p>"Tony!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, "where did you drop from? I +thought you were on the big drive."</p> + +<p>"So I was, Steve," Tony replied, taking a seat upon a large boulder.</p> + +<p>"Didn't get fired, eh?"</p> + +<p>To this Tony made no response. He looked thoughtfully before him for a +while.</p> + +<p>"Say, Steve," he at length remarked. "How's Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"He's gone, Tony. Driven from Glendow."</p> + +<p>"What!" and Tony sprang to his feet in excitement. "When did he leave?"</p> + +<p>"Last week."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm too late! I was afraid of it! But I came fast--I ran sometimes; +but it was no use. Is he in the lockup?"</p> + +<p>"In the lockup! What do you mean?" and Stephen stared at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>From the depth of a capacious pocket Tony brought forth Dan's soiled +letter, and held it up.</p> + +<p>"Read that," he said. "It's all I know."</p> + +<p>Quickly Stephen scanned the quaint words, drinking in almost intuitively +the meaning of it all.</p> + +<p>"Did Dan give you this?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And where is the boy now?"</p> + +<p>Tony's eyes dropped at the question, and he did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" Stephen insisted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm afraid so. But set down close, Steve. I've somethin' great to +tell ye."</p> + +<p>And sitting there in the dusk of even Tony poured into his companion's +ears the story of that terrible scene in Giant Gorge, and of Dan's brave +deed.</p> + +<p>Stephen listened spell-bound to the tale. The meaning of Dan's departure +was all clear now. While people had been blaming the lad as an ungrateful +runaway he had fared forth in loving service on behalf of his guardians. A +mistiness blurred Stephen's eyes as Tony paused.</p> + +<p>"Where is Dan now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"At Big Sam's house. We brought 'im down on the waggon, an' I helped carry +'im in."</p> + +<p>"Who is Big Sam?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's the teamster. The booms are near his place whar the raftin' will +be done. Sam hauls the stuff fer the gang."</p> + +<p>"And you don't know how badly Dan is hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No, I came away at once. I wanted to help the old parson. An' say, Steve, +did they find the gold?"</p> + +<p>"Find it? No. And I don't think they will now. It's a great mystery."</p> + +<p>"An' they say the parson took it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some do."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't they find the iron box?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Did they look beneath the ashes?"</p> + +<p>"They searched every nook and corner, and even sifted the ashes, but could +find nothing."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't Billy say nuthin'?"</p> + +<p>"No, he was too weak. He tried to speak after the parson had carried him +out, but no one could understand him."</p> + +<p>Tony did not speak for a while, but remained lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"Steve," he at length remarked. "I'd like to go to that old place. Will ye +go with me?"</p> + +<p>"What! to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, right away."</p> + +<p>"It will be dark there now, Tony. Why not wait until morning?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I must go to-night. We kin git a lantern, an' I want a shovel, +too. Will ye come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want me," was Stephen's reluctant reply. "But you might as +well save yourself the trouble. The place has been so thoroughly searched +by daylight that I don't see we can do much at night. Anyway, I shall go +with you."</p> + +<p>Together they moved on their way up the road, Stephen carrying his peevy +upon his shoulder. As they came to the store he stopped.</p> + +<p>"Wait here, Tony," he said, "till I run in and get the mail. I shall be +only a minute."</p> + +<p>Entering the building he found Farrington sitting behind the counter +writing. He looked up as Stephen entered, and laid down his pen. He was +affable to all now, for election day was but a week off, and he needed +every vote.</p> + +<p>"Raftin' all done, Steve?" he asked as he handed out the mail.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all finished," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll be to the p'litical meetin' to-night, Steve, won't ye?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had forgotten all about it."</p> + +<p>"But ye must come. I want ye to hear what I hev to say. Gadsby'll be thar, +an' I've got a dose fer 'im which he won't soon fergit. I'll show 'im a +thing or two, an' the people'll learn that they need a real, live +practical man for councillor. Ye must certainly come."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that I can come," Stephen replied. "I have an engagement +to-night. I may be there, however, if I can get through in time. But I +must be off now; Tony's waiting for me."</p> + +<p>At these last words Farrington started, and an expression of concern swept +over his face. He leaned anxiously forward and looked intently at Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Did ye say that Tony Stickles is out thar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He has just arrived."</p> + +<p>"Why, w--what's he back so soon fer?"</p> + +<p>"Special business, so he tells me. But I must be off."</p> + +<p>Stephen noted Farrington's remarkable interest in Tony's return, and +wondered what it meant. He had no mind to tell him about Dan, for he +preferred to have as few words as possible with this man who was such a +thorn in the flesh. He left Farrington standing in the door and proceeded +with Tony up the road. As they moved along he noticed how his companion +lagged behind. Usually he was such a rapid walker, and this slowness was a +surprise to Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Are you not well, Tony?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," was the reply. "I've had a long walk to-day."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>"Daybreak."</p> + +<p>"And did you rest?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Look here," and Stephen faced sharply about "Have you had anything to eat +to-day?"</p> + +<p>Tony's face flushed, and he gave a slight, evasive laugh. But Stephen was +not to be put off.</p> + +<p>"No, that won't do. I want to know. Have you been walking all day without +any food?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mind, Steve. I was in a hurry to get home. Besides I--"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," interrupted Stephen. "You didn't have your pay, and were +too proud to beg. Oh, you're a great one. But you shall have supper with +me at once before you go digging among those ashes."</p> + +<p>For a while Tony was stubborn, but in the end Stephen led him off in +triumph. Supper was ready, and Mrs. Frenelle gave the visitor a hearty +welcome, and in his own quaint way he told of his work in the woods, and +his experience on the drive.</p> + +<p>"I feel like a new man," he said, rising from the table. "I was about +tuckered out. Now I'm ready fer that bizness up yon. Guess we'll turn up +somethin' tonight, or my name ain't Tony Stickles."</p> + +<p>It was quite dark by the time they reached the ruins of the old house. The +lantern threw its fitful light over the charred sticks and blackened +stones.</p> + +<p>"My! this is a scary place!" Tony exclaimed as he glanced around. "Poor +old Billy was good to me, an' many a square meal I've had here. Now let's +begin operations."</p> + +<p>The wreck of the old-fashioned chimney stood out gaunt and desolate, while +the large fire-place was filled with sticks and stones. These Tony began +to clear away, tossing them far from the foundation. Placing the lantern +in a secure position, Stephen assisted him in his task. Why he did so he +could not tell, but there was something so sure and masterful about Tony's +words and actions that he felt compelled to do something.</p> + +<p>"Now fer the shovel, Steve. We'll soon see what's here," and Tony began to +dig up ashes and earth in a lively manner. "I think this is the place. +Yes, right down under the big hearth-stone, a little to the right. He told +me about it time an' time agin. Poor Billy! Poor Billy! Ye never thought +it 'ud come to this."</p> + +<p>Stephen was all attention now. He watched Tony, digging and talking, +uncertain whether the lad was really in his right mind. Had the fearful +experience in Giant Gorge turned his brain? he wondered. He had read of +such things. There was something uncanny about the way Tony talked to +himself, and, brave though he was, a strange feeling crept through +Stephen's body, making him long to be away from the spot. And still the +digging went on, down through the yielding soil.</p> + +<p>"Should be here purty close," Tony remarked. "Under the hearth-stone, well +to the right. I ought to be near--Hello! what's this?"</p> + +<p>The exclamation was caused by the point of the shovel striking something +hard. Again and again the thrust was made, and each time a hollow sound +was produced.</p> + +<p>"It's it! It's it!" shouted Tony, now much excited. "I knowed it was +here," and he dug away frantically, until presently an iron box about a +foot long and six inches wide was exposed to view. Throwing aside the +shovel, he seized the treasure with both hands, tore it from its +hiding-place and held it aloft.</p> + +<p>"Look, Steve!" he cried, trembling with excitement, "I knowed thar was +somethin' here!"</p> + +<p>Stephen was now as much aroused as Tony. "What's in it, do you think?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Gold! that's what's in it! Ye'll soon see," and Tony pulled back a little +iron pin and threw up the cover. As he did so he gave a cry of surprise, +for the light falling upon the interior showed nothing there but a few +pieces of paper. Tony rubbed his eyes in amazement, and then looked at +Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Whar's that gold?" he fiercely demanded. "What has become of it?"</p> + +<p>Stephen scarcely heard him, for a terrible idea had flashed into his mind. +Someone had taken it, and was it--? He hardly dare let the name beat for +an instant through his brain. It was cruel. No, no, it could not be! That +white-haired man of God would not stoop to such a thing! But where was the +gold?</p> + +<p>The moon rose clear and full above the distant horizon. It seemed to ask +silently the same question. A dog from a farm-house up the road split the +air with its hoarse bark of wonder. Stephen placed his hand to his +forehead in an abstracted manner. Then he glanced at the box, and the +papers lying therein arrested his attention. He reached down and took them +in his hand. They were tied with an old piece of tarred twine, and were +much blackened and soiled. Drawing forth the first and holding it close to +the lantern, Stephen read the brief words recorded there. It took him but +a minute to do this, and then followed an exclamation which gave Tony a +distinct start.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Steve?" he asked. "What hev ye found?"</p> + +<p>"Read this, and judge for yourself," Stephen replied, thrusting the paper +into his companion's hands.</p> + +<p>As Tony spelled out the words his eyes bulged with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Steve!" he gasped, "I'm so glad it isn't the parson. But do ye think +this is all right?"</p> + +<p>"It. looks like it. See the date, November 10th of last year. And notice, +too, these words 'for safe keeping' and 'until called for.' Why, it's as +plain as day. Then, here's the amount, 'five thousand dollars, all in +gold, to be left in the iron box marked with a cross in white paint.'"</p> + +<p>"Say, Tony," Stephen asked, "did Billy have such a box, another one like +this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I do remember one very well. It was smaller than this; 'twas +stouter an' had a lock an' key. He kept some papers an' loose change in +it. It allus sot on the old mantel-piece over the fire-place."</p> + +<p>"Tony!" said Stephen, looking hard at the paper, "if that box of gold is +there yet, and that man has been silent and let another take the blame, +it's the smallest, vilest piece of work of which I ever heard."</p> + +<p>"Sure 'tis, an' I say let's go an' ax 'im 'bout it."</p> + +<p>"But he's at the meeting now."</p> + +<p>"Well, all the better. It's right that the people should hear. But say, +Steve, what's that other paper?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot it. Maybe it will explain things further."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Billy's will!" cried Stephen, running his eyes over the closely +written sheets, "and he's left the whole of his property, gold, farm and +all, to you."</p> + +<p>"To me! To me!" exclaimed Tony. "Ye must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Read it for yourself, then," and Stephen passed over the will. "It's all +there in black and white."</p> + +<p>As Tony read, his face flushed, and his hands clutched the paper in the +intensity of his feelings. His eyes flashed as he turned them hard upon +Stephen.</p> + +<p>"I understand now!" he cried. "That villain has tried to cheat me outer +all this. He thought the will an' everythin' else was burned. But he was +mistaken. Oh, yes, he didn't know what was beneath the ashes. Come, Steve, +let's go an' ax 'im a few questions. Mebbe he'll explain things. Anyway +we'll give 'im a chance. Come, let's hurry!"</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_26"></a>Chapter XXVI</h1> + +<h2>A Rope of Sand</h2> + + + +<p>Silas Farrington was much disturbed by Tony Stickles' arrival in Glendow. +He had always laughed at the lad, considering him a stupid, ungainly +creature. Occasionally he had overtaken Tony on the road trudging wearily +along, but it had never occurred to him to offer him a seat in his waggon +or sleigh.</p> + +<p>"It spiles sich people," he had often said, "to take too much notice of +'em. They have a sartin place in life, an' should be made to keep it." But +standing in the store that evening after Stephen's departure, the despised +Tony occupied an important place in his mind. He would have laughed to +scorn anyone who had suggested such a thing. But down deep in his heart, +small and narrow though it was, dwelt considerable unrest. "What had the +lad come back for?" he asked himself over and over again. "What was the +special business which brought him so unexpectedly? Did he know anything?" +Harrington's face twitched as he thought of these things. He strode up and +down in the store. Once he paused before the safe standing in the corner, +and looked long and thoughtfully upon it. A muttered curse escaped his +lips. This was succeeded by a scornful laugh. "What a fool I am!" he +exclaimed, "to worry about sich things! What is thar to find out? Let 'em +do their best and be damned! We'll see who holds the stoutest and longest +rope. That Steve Frenelle's a cur, an' I hate 'im. He's jist the one to +stir up trouble. I've suspected 'im all along. He knows too much fer one +of his age. Wait 'till I'm councillor, an' then I'll show 'im a thing or +two." Waggons rattling along the road startled him. He glanced at his +watch. "My! I didn't know 'twas so late; almost time for the meetin'. I +must git ready."</p> + +<p>The big public hall of Glendow was packed to the door. People came from +all over the parish to this political meeting, for lively scenes were +expected. The two candidates opposed to each other were to be there to +discuss various problems of local interest. On the front seat sat Mrs. +Farrington, Eudora and Dick.</p> + +<p>Philip Gadsby was the first speaker. He was a man tall and somewhat thin, +with a kind, thoughtful face. His voice was soft, well modulated, and his +words carefully chosen. There was nothing of the orator about him, in fact +his speech was somewhat of a hesitating nature. But he was possessed of a +convincing manner, and all who were there knew they were listening to a +man who was more than his words, and that what he said he would endeavour +to accomplish to the best of his ability. He spoke about the needs of the +parish, better roads, improvement of the schools, and the efforts which +should be made to form an agricultural society in Glendow, which was +essentially a farming community.</p> + +<p>"Our watchword," he said in conclusion, "should be progress. Look at our +roads. Money is spent upon them every season, but not in an intelligent +way. We find men at times appointed roadmasters who seldom drive over the +highway. Mud and sods are heaped up in the centre in a confused fashion, +late in the fall. Let us do less, do it well, and use more gravel. Look at +our schools. The buildings are old, ill equipped, and sometimes fifty to +sixty children are crowded into one room fitted only to accommodate +twenty, and one teacher to manage all. And we do need an agricultural +society. We are farmers. We need to read, study, meet together and hear +addresses from experts. New methods are employed elsewhere, while we are +behind the times. Yes, we must advance. I have the welfare of the parish +at heart, and whether elected or not I shall still take my part in the +forward movement."</p> + +<p>Often during the speech Gadsby was greeted with cheers and clapping, for +those present realized the effectiveness of what he said, and he sat down +amid great applause.</p> + +<p>It was then that Farrington rose to his feet and mounted the platform. He +had listened to Gadsby's speech with amused tolerance, and occasionally +whispered something to his wife sitting by his side. He was a man +possessed of an abundance of words, and he turned his attention at once +upon the first speaker. Gadsby had made no personal allusion to his +opponent. He simply stated his case and ceased. But not so Farrington. +From the first word he uttered he began to pour forth contempt and +ridicule. He laughed at Gadsby's ideas of progress.</p> + +<p>"I think we're purty well advanced," he shouted. "The schools an' roads +are good enough fer me. Progress means more money, an' more money means +bigger taxes. The children of Glendow are well supplied, an' as fer the +roads they're good enough. As fer an agricultural society--well," and here +he cast a significant look at Gadsby, "them who talk sich things had +better look at their own farms. Before I go out shoutin' about progress I +had better be sure that my own bizness is on a good footin'. I generally +find that sich people spend too much time gaddin' about instid of +attendin' to their own home affairs."</p> + +<p>And thus Farrington talked for over an hour. He wandered off into all +kinds of subjects, made jokes at which the boys laughed, and told funny +stories. He imagined he was putting his hearers in good humour, and he +took their cheers and stamping as signs of approval. But he little knew +what the serious-minded were thinking about. They were slow of speech, but +they were keen observers, and they were mentally comparing the two +candidates before them. Farrington knew nothing of this. He was in a +rollicking, fine humour. He felt pleased with the people for their +apparent approval, but more pleased with himself for the speech he was +making. "I'm real glad to see so many of yez here," he said in conclusion. +"I think nearly all the voters are present, at any rate every family is +represented. Now if any of yez would like to ax a question I shall be glad +fer 'im to do so. I take it that the meetin' is open fer free discussion."</p> + +<p>"Guess I've made a hit," Farrington whispered to his wife as he resumed +his seat by her side. "The people know a good thing when they find it."</p> + +<p>"Ye done well, Si," was the reply. "I'm sartinly proud of ye. Thar's no +doubt now about yer election."</p> + +<p>The clapping and stamping had not ceased ere a man was noticed pushing his +way through the crowd to the front of the hall. As he mounted the platform +the noise suddenly stopped, for all were much surprised to see Stephen +Frenelle standing there. Never before had he been known to do such a +thing, especially at a political meeting. What could he have to say? All +wondered. And Stephen, too, was surprised. He was not accustomed to public +speaking, and shrank from the thought of facing so many people. But he was +very calm now, and in his eyes flashed a light which bespoke danger. In +his right hand he clutched several papers, which all noted. He looked +steadily over the heads of the people before speaking, and an almost +breathless silence ensued.</p> + +<p>"You wonder why I am here," he began at length. "I am not used to the +platform, and only a matter of great importance would ever make me mount +it. The last speaker has given permission for all to ask questions. He has +said that nearly all the voters are here, and that every family is +represented. I will tell you of one voter who is not here, one who on an +occasion like this was generally present. I need hardly mention his name, +for you all know. I now ask why isn't Parson John with us to-night?" He +paused as if for an answer, and looked into the faces before him. "You all +know," he continued, "as well as I do. Because he was actually driven from +the parish. He left it almost a heart-broken man."</p> + +<p>At these words, Farrington sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"What has all this nonsense to do with the election?" he cried. "He's out +of order, an' I appeal to the chairman to stop 'im."</p> + +<p>"Hear! hear!" yelled several. "Go ahead, Steve!" shouted others.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I intend to go ahead," replied the latter. "You will find out, Mr. +Farrington, before I am through the meaning of my words, and perhaps I +will not be the only one out of order. It's more likely to be disorder.</p> + +<p>"I was asking the question when I was interrupted, 'Why was Parson John +driven from the parish?' Because of vile stories which were circulated +about him. And what were those stories? You know as well as I do. I need +not mention them all; of one only shall I speak. When old Billy Fletcher's +house was burned to the ground, and the gold which he was supposed to have +could not be found, what did some say? That Parson John took it. Yes, +that's what they said, and you all know it. I've heard it ever since then. +His friends knew it was a lie, but what could they say? What proof could +they bring forward? I now ask you what became of that gold? It is a secret +no longer. The witness is here," and Stephen held the papers aloft. The +silence which now pervaded the hall was most intense. Every ear was +strained to its utmost, and every eye was fixed full upon that up-lifted +hand.</p> + +<p>"Here is my witness," repeated Stephen, "and I ask the man, the last +speaker, whose name is signed to this paper, to stand up and give us an +explanation."</p> + +<p>During the latter part of this speech, Farrington had turned as white as +death. He sat bolt upright, with his hands clutching convulsively the edge +of the seat. He felt that something terrible was pending, and a horrible, +craven fear overwhelmed him! He knew that paper held up there only too +well. It was simply a sheet of cheap writing-paper, and yet it was his +ruin. It was damning him as a scoundrel and a sneak in the presence of +these people!</p> + +<p>"Cannot the last speaker explain how his name happens to be here and what +he knows about that gold?"</p> + +<p>These words fell like the knell of doom upon Farrington's ears. What was +he to do? But something must be done.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" he gasped. "What d'ye want me to explain?"</p> + +<p>"About this writing."</p> + +<p>"What writin', an' whar did ye git any writin' of mine? It's some mean +trick!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "This villain has come here fer +the purpose of injurin' me! I tell ye it's false! it's false!"</p> + +<p>"But what about this?" Stephen insisted, calmly holding up one of the +papers. "And there are others."</p> + +<p>"What is it? What is it? Read it, Steve," came the cry from the audience.</p> + +<p>"I say it's false!" shouted Farrington, springing again to his feet, his +face blanched with terror. "It's a mean trick! Put the villain out! Will +ye let an honest man be put upon in this way?"</p> + +<p>"Read the paper, Steve," urged several. "Let's know what's the matter. We +don't understand this fuss."</p> + +<p>Farrington made a pathetic figure as he stood there uncertain what to do. +He knew he was in a trap, but he had not the moral courage to stand up and +face the worst like a man. Had he done so there were many who would have +pitied him. But he blustered and raved and threatened what he would do.</p> + +<p>"If that man will be still for a few minutes," said Stephen, "I shall tell +you what these papers contain."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Farrington!" came a general yell. "We'll hear you later."</p> + +<p>"Now," began Stephen. "I shall read this one first. It is not long.</p> + +<p>"'To-day October 30, 18-- I placed the sum of $5,000 in gold in Silas +Farrington's safe for him to keep until called for. The money is locked in +a stout, iron box marked with a cross with white paint. I do not like +banks--they are not to be depended upon, and are always failing. This +seems to be the best place to put my money. I am to give Mr. Farrington +one dollar a month for the use of the safe. 'WILLIAM FLETCHER.'"</p> + +<p>As Stephen finished the reading, a movement took place among the people +and angry, threatening words were interchanged.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" yelled Farrington. "It's made up to ruin me! Will ye believe +sich a story?"</p> + +<p>"Just wait a minute," continued Stephen, holding forth another small piece +of paper. Here is further evidence which might be of some service. Listen +to this.</p> + +<p>"'Glendow, Friday, Oct. 30th, 18-- Received from William Fletcher, the sum +of $5,000 in gold, in an iron box, to be kept for him in trust in my safe +until called for, he promising to pay me one dollar a month for the use of +my safe. 'SILAS FARRINGTON.'"</p> + +<p>An intense silence now reigned in the hall. All were waiting to see what +would happen next. It was the calm before the storm. The people were more +than surprised, they were dumfounded at this sudden turn of events. The +purpose of the meeting was forgotten. Then one wild cry went up. There was +confusion everywhere, all talking and shouting at once. At this the +chairman rose to his feet, and held up his hand for peace. Gradually the +commotion subsided, and all waited to hear what he had to say.</p> + +<p>"We are much astonished at what has happened," he began. "It is a very +serious matter. These papers are of a most damaging nature to one of the +candidates here to-night. He has emphatically denied the statements made +therein. But we demand further proof. Let him now come forward and speak. +Perhaps he can explain matters fully."</p> + +<p>"Hear! Hear!" came from every part of the building.</p> + +<p>Half dazed and trembling, Farrington staggered forward, and grasped the +back of a chair for support.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, I tell ye!" he shouted. "But I want to ax one question. Whar +did them papers come from? Ye all know very well that everything was +burned which old Billy had in the house. Not a scrap of anything was left, +and how did them papers escape? That's proof enough to show what a mean +trick has been played upon me. I am the one to ax fer an explanation."</p> + +<p>"That shall be granted at once," Stephen replied, and in a few words he +told of Tony Stickles' arrival, their search beneath the large +hearth-stone, and the discovery of the iron box containing the valuable +papers.</p> + +<p>"Tony is here," said Stephen in conclusion, "and if you do not believe me, +ask him."</p> + +<p>But there was no need for Tony's witness. The evidence was already strong +enough, and the people were aroused.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," said the chairman, motioning the audience to be quiet. +"If you have that gold in your safe, it will save considerable trouble if +you produce it at once. If it is there and you have kept silence and +allowed that man of God to suffer, you deserve the severest punishment. Is +it the wish of the people here that the safe should be opened?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" came like a roar of thunder.</p> + +<p>"Ye can't do it!" yelled Farrington, rising to his feet. "It's my private +property, an' I defy anyone to touch my safe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll not touch it," the chairman coolly remarked. "We'll not lay +hands on it. All we ask you to do is to throw open the door and show us +what's inside."</p> + +<p>"It ain't lawful, I say," shouted the desperate man.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it isn't lawful. But we'll attend to that, I reckon. Sometimes +people take the law into their own hands, and I guess that's what we'll do +to-night. In my opinion there's not a judge or a jury in the whole land +but would support our action. Come now, you'd better do as we desire at +once."</p> + +<p>Farrington, excited though he was, found it necessary to do some rapid +thinking. He knew he could not delay that angry assembly much longer. One +hope only remained, and upon this he acted.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he replied, "I might as well go at once. Come when you like, +you kin examine everything in the safe. I'm not afeer'd fer ye to look."</p> + +<p>He took a step or two forward with the intention of leaving.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said the chairman. "Don't be in too big a hurry. We'll go +along with you. It's always good to have company on such occasions."</p> + +<p>"I don't want anyone," snapped Farrington, turning angrily upon him.</p> + +<p>"No, I know you don't. But we're not considering your feelings just now."</p> + +<p>"Then, I'll not go! Do what you like with me!" and Farrington sank back +upon the seat, a pitiable bundle of wretched humanity.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_27"></a>Chapter XXVII</h1> + +<h2>In the Toils</h2> + + + +<p>During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained +motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great +rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a +way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was +changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited +condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but +thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours +would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How +the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing +the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had +he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which +took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman +ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his +safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave +one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor.</p> + +<p>At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through +the crowd into the open air.</p> + +<p>Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the +seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through +with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night. +Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?"</p> + +<p>No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very +well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?"</p> + +<p>"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a +number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now. +They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an +innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington +committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in +this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months, +stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the +bounds of reason.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him.</p> + +<p>"Will you come, then?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door, +he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and +almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the +road. The store was reached.</p> + +<p>"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it."</p> + +<p>This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building.</p> + +<p>"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there."</p> + +<p>But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man +who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to +the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from +the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his +gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for +their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only +between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused. +How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his +forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body.</p> + +<p>"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around.</p> + +<p>A yell was the only response to his appeal.</p> + +<p>"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a +coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands +outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go +up to the first limb."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long +piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out +the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure +would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in +this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the +noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe. +With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination +would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and +more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality +he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length +the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron +hinges.</p> + +<p>"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman.</p> + +<p>One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back +corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark +upon it.</p> + +<p>A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of +derision.</p> + +<p>"Order!" commanded the chairman.</p> + +<p>"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y-es."</p> + +<p>"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame +for stealing it?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I +was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything."</p> + +<p>There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear +did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the +sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then +a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried +forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place, +making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors +flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar +used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and +the odour was pouring forth.</p> + +<p>"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help! +Murder!"</p> + +<p>But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his +clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered +feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless. +He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very +ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were +handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they +watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair.</p> + +<p>When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped +out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main +store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It +had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and +cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding +feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he +presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and +feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing +what to expect.</p> + +<p>"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house, +"and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for +yourself and family."</p> + +<p>As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood +back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store +to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes +could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at +length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep +sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with +Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did +not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective +remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in righteous +indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the cat-o'-nine-tails +or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in accordance with the +British Constitution it is certainly the most effective way of dealing +with some mean, contemptible cases. And Farrington's was one of them. With +clever legal counsel he might be able to prove that he was acting within +his right in holding the money "until called for," according to the +wording of the paper he had signed, while the real motive that prompted +him to keep silence might not be considered at all.</p> + +<p>Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried +home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left +for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair +and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been +suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness. +He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned +how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see +her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so +unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was +she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was +unbearable without her sweet, loving presence.</p> + +<p>At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to +sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might +his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man, +with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why +should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as +soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once? +Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole +softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and +turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of +paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his +mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to +find it in the morning.</p> + +<p>Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn. +His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in +resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of +the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as +Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then +the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider +sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_28"></a>Chapter XXVIII</h1> + +<h2>Waiting and Serving</h2> + + + +<p>"I feel completely side-tracked now. Life moves forward, but here I am a +useless burden."</p> + +<p>It was Parson John who spoke, as he leaned back in an easy-chair and gazed +dreamily out of the window.</p> + +<p>Nellie laid down the book she had been reading aloud and looked anxiously +at her father. This was the third day they had been at Morristown, and it +was the first time her father had uttered any word of complaint. The +change had been restful, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been +so many things to see and to talk about with his brother that he hardly +missed the separation from Glendow. A sense of glad freedom had been his. +There was no responsibility of parish work, and no long, tiresome drives +ahead. He need not worry about sermons for the following Sunday, nor feel +concerned for any who might be sick. It was a luxury to sit there quietly +in the large, airy room with the fresh breath of spring pervading the +place, and to watch the trees putting forth their tender leaves and the +fields donning their robe of green, yellow and white. Occasionally Nellie +read to him from some favourite author, although much of her time was +taken up helping her aunt with various household duties. The change which +she beheld in her father caused her much joy. "It is just what he needs," +she thought. "A good rest will restore him more than anything else." So +now on this bright afternoon to hear him complain of being side-tracked, +of no use in the world, worried her.</p> + +<p>"You must remember, father dear," she replied, "it is well to be +side-tracked sometimes. Engines are often laid by for repairs, and I have +heard you say that we need rest that mind and body might be strengthened."</p> + +<p>"True, very true, Nellie. But I seem to be useless. There are so many +things to be done, and but little time in which to do them. When one has +been engaged in a work for over thirty years it is not easy to lay it +suddenly aside. It becomes part of one's life. Some may think that rest is +sitting still and doing nothing. But to me such a thought is terrible. +'Rest,' as a great poet has well said, 'is not quitting life's busy +career. Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, but did not blind old Milton say that 'They also serve who +only stand and wait.'"</p> + +<p>"But how am I serving, Nellie? What is there for me to do here? I sit all +day long and think, while others serve me."</p> + +<p>"Father," Nellie replied after a brief silence, "I believe a stroll would +do you good. You have been staying in the house too much. I have +discovered some very pleasant walks out from the village, and, if it will +not weary you, suppose we start off now."</p> + +<p>Her father looked up quickly at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Capital!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I need. I am becoming too moody, +and the fresh air will revive me."</p> + +<p>He was almost like a child now in his eagerness to be off. With his stout +cane in one hand, and leaning upon his daughter's arm, he moved slowly +along the dry road, through the village and out into the country where the +houses were few.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is life, grand, true life!" and he stood for a few minutes +looking far away across the broad fields. The air laden with the freshness +of spring drifted about them; the birds flitting overhead were pouring +forth their joyous music, while on every side early flowers were lifting +their tiny heads. All nature seemed to combine to give a glad welcome to +these two wayfarers.</p> + +<p>At length, coming to a cross road, Nellie paused.</p> + +<p>"Look, father," and she pointed to a large tree near by. "What a cool, +shady spot! Suppose we rest there for a while, and I will read some from +the little book I have brought with me."</p> + +<p>Willingly Mr. Westmore conceded to her wish, and soon they were snugly +seated on the grassy sward. With his back against the tree, Parson John +breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead +with a large, white handkerchief.</p> + +<p>So absorbed did they both become in the book that neither noticed the +black clouds which had been gathering away to the south, and were now +rolling up fearful and threatening beneath the sun. A distant peal of +thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning, startled them.</p> + +<p>"A storm is coming!" exclaimed Nellie, springing to her feet. "We must +hurry home at once! The road to the right is shorter. I know it quite +well; we had better take that."</p> + +<p>They had not proceeded far, however, before the peals of thunder became +more intense, and soon large drops of rain came spattering down.</p> + +<p>"We're in for a heavy storm," panted Mr. Westmore. "It's about to burst +upon us. We must seek shelter!"</p> + +<p>"There's a house right ahead," Nellie replied. "Perhaps we can get in +there."</p> + +<p>They plodded on in silence now, and turned in at a little gate none too +soon. Scarcely had they entered the small porch in front of the house ere +the storm broke. Hail, mingled with rain, came thundering down upon the +roof, and, dashing against the glass, threatened to smash in every pane. +The thunder crashed and shook the house, while the lightning streaked the +air with blinding flashes.</p> + +<p>"This is terrible!" exclaimed Nellie, clinging to her father's arm, her +face very white. "We must get into the house!"</p> + +<p>They knocked upon the door, but received no response. Again they rapped +louder than before, and at length a key was slowly turned and a woman, +neatly dressed and fair to look upon, peered timidly forth. A relieved +look came into her face as she saw the two standing there.</p> + +<p>"Come in," she said, giving a little nervous laugh. "This fearful storm +has quite overcome me."</p> + +<p>She led the way into a cosy sitting-room, and offered her visitors chairs.</p> + +<p>"You will pardon our intrusion, I am sure," explained Mr. Westmore. "We +came simply for shelter. We are much obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir," replied the woman. "I am so glad you came. I am alone +with the children, and they are all much frightened."</p> + +<p>"And your husband is away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's been gone all winter. He was working in the woods for Rodgers & +Peterson, and is now on the drive."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! it must be hard for you to have him away so much."</p> + +<p>"It is, sir. But he will stay home after this. He has earned enough this +winter to make the last payment on our farm. We have been struggling for +years, saving every cent and working hard to get the place free from debt, +and now it will be our very own if--if--," and the woman hesitated.</p> + +<p>"How glad your husband will be to be home," said Nellie, with her eyes +fixed upon several bright little faces in the doorway. "He must long to +see you all."</p> + +<p>"Ay, indeed he does, but especially Doris. She is our invalid girl, you +see, and is very dear to us. She can't romp and play like the others, and +I suppose for that reason she appeals to us the more."</p> + +<p>"Has she been ill long?" questioned Mr. Westmore, becoming now much +interested.</p> + +<p>"For five years. It's hip disease, and she will never walk without a +crutch, if she does then. Perhaps you would like to see her."</p> + +<p>They were conducted into a small bedroom, and the sight which met their +eyes moved them both. Lying on the bed was a girl of about fifteen years +of age, with a sweet, fair face, large, expressive eyes, and a high +forehead crowned by a wealth of jet-black hair, parted in the middle and +combed back with considerable care. The room was as neat and clean as +loving hands could make it. A bright smile illumined the girl's face, +which Nellie thought the most beautiful she had ever looked upon.</p> + +<p>"It's so good of you to come to see me," she said. "Very few come, and I +do get lonely at times."</p> + +<p>"You will be glad when your father comes home, will you not?" Nellie +remarked, taking the girl's thin, white hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it will be delightful! He has been away so long. Let me see," and she +counted on her fingers. "He has not been home since Christmas."</p> + +<p>"But he writes to you, though?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, such lovely letters, all about his work. But the last one was so +sad. I have cried over it many times. I have it right here. Would you like +to read it? It's so interesting."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you tell us about it, dear," said Mr. Westmore, taking a chair by +the side of the bed. "That will be better."</p> + +<p>The girl's face flushed a little, and she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't tell it half as well as father does in his letter. You +know, the men were bringing the logs down Big Creek Brook, and they all +got stuck in a nasty place called Giant Gorge. One big log in some way, I +don't understand, stopped the rest, and it had to be cut out. It was a +dangerous thing to do, and the men drew lots to see who would go down into +that awful place. And just think, papa drew the paper with the mark upon +it, which meant that he was to do it! I shudder and cry every time I think +about it. Well, as dear papa was about to go, a young man, Tony Stickles, +sprang forward and said he would go, because papa had six children and a +wife who needed him. Wasn't that lovely of him? I should like to see him. +And just think, before papa could stop him he sprang upon the logs, cut +away the one which held the rest, and all rushed down right on top of him. +Papa said he was sure Tony would be killed, but he jumped from one log to +another, and when all thought he would get to the shore, the logs opened +and he fell into the water. Then something wonderful happened, so papa +said. As Tony was clinging there a boy suddenly came along, jumped upon +the logs, ran over them, and pulled Tony out just in time. But a log hit +the poor little boy, and Tony had to carry him ashore. Don't you think +that's a lovely story, and weren't they both very brave, real heroes like +you read about in books? Oh, I lie here hour by hour and think it all +over!"</p> + +<p>The girl's face was quite flushed now, for she had spoken hurriedly, and +her eyes shone brighter than ever. She was living the scene she related.</p> + +<p>"What a nice story you have told us," Nellie replied when Doris had +finished. "I am glad to hear what a brave deed Tony did, for we both know +him."</p> + +<p>"What! you know him?" cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very well. Ever since he was a baby."</p> + +<p>"How nice it must be to know a real hero!" sighed the girl. "Please tell +me about him."</p> + +<p>And there in the little room Nellie told about Tony, his mother, brothers +and sisters, to which Doris listened most eagerly.</p> + +<p>"We must go now," said Mr. Westmore rising to his feet and looking out of +the window. "The storm has cleared and the sun is shining brightly."</p> + +<p>"But you will both come again, won't you?" Doris inquired as she held out +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want us to do so," Nellie replied. "But we don't wish to tire +you."</p> + +<p>"You won't tire me. I long for someone to talk to, and you know so much."</p> + +<p>Parson John had now left the room, and Nellie was holding the girl's hand. +She glanced at the door to make sure that her father could not hear, then +she bent over the bed.</p> + +<p>"Did your father tell you the name of that boy who saved Tony's life?"</p> + +<p>"No. He said he didn't know."</p> + +<p>"Did he say what he was doing there?"</p> + +<p>"No, only he had a funny little letter for Tony. It was in his pocket, and +when they opened it a small rose fell out."</p> + +<p>"And he didn't say what the letter was about?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear, I must go now," and as Nellie stooped down and gave the +girl a kiss, Doris suddenly clasped her arms about her neck.</p> + +<p>"I love you! I love you!" she murmured. "You are so beautiful and good! +Come soon, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, to-morrow, perhaps," and as Nellie left the room her eyes were +moist with the tears she found impossible to restrain.</p> + +<p>As she walked along the wet road by her father's side her mind was busy +thinking over what she had just heard. Who was that boy? He must be a +stranger to that place, and what was the letter about? Could it be Dan? +How often had she and her father talked about the boy. They believed that +he would come back some day. Suddenly there flashed into her mind the +persistent efforts Dan had made to write a letter, and how he had time and +time again asked her the way to spell certain words. She had thought +little about it then, but now she remembered that one of the words was +"Tony." Her father looked up in surprise as Nellie paused, and clutched +his arm more firmly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, dear?" he asked. "Are you tired? Perhaps we are +walking too fast."</p> + +<p>"No, father," and Nellie gave a little laugh. "I was Only thinking, and my +thoughts run away with me sometimes. But I am glad we are almost home, for +the walking is heavy and our shoes are covered with mud. See that +beautiful rainbow, father!"</p> + +<p>They both stood still for a few minutes, and looked upon the grand arch +spanning the heavens and resting upon earth.</p> + +<p>"The bow of promise, Nellie," said Mr. Westmore. "It appears to-day, the +same as of old, to remind us all that 'His mercies still endure, ever +faithful, ever sure.'"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a sign to us, father, that our storm has past, and the sun +will break forth again." "It may be true, child. God grant it so," and +Mr. Westmore sighed as he turned in at the gate leading to his brother's +house.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_29"></a>Chapter XXIX</h1> + +<h2>Rifted Clouds</h2> + + + +<p>Again the next day they both visited the invalid girl. Nellie read to her, +while Parson John sat and listened. They were becoming firm friends now, +and Doris chatted unreservedly.</p> + +<p>"I shall tell papa all about you," she said. "I have a letter almost +finished, and shall mail it to-night. How I wish you could see him."</p> + +<p>All through the day Dan had been much in Nellie's mind. The idea which had +come to her the evening before was growing stronger. She believed it was +Dan and no other who had rescued Tony. It was just like him, and she +thought of the afternoon he had saved her and her cousin on the river. +Should she tell her father? That was the question which she debated with +herself hour after hour, and when they returned from their visit to Doris, +she had not yet decided.</p> + +<p>That evening she strolled out of the house, and down the road leading to a +little brook. The air was balmy and fresh, and this was her favourite +walk. Trees lined the way, stern old oaks, beeches and maples--the grove +on her uncle's farm, the place where people came for miles to hold +picnics.</p> + +<p>As Nellie walked along her thoughts turned often to Glendow. She wondered +what Stephen was doing, and if his logs were rafted. She missed him +greatly. They had been so much together, had grown up as children, but not +until this separation had she fully realized what he meant to her. She +thought of the night he had come to tell about Nora and to say good-bye. +Her face flushed, and a sweet peace came into her heart as she dwelt upon +Stephen's manner that night--his confusion--his stammering words--and the +burning kiss upon her hand. She stood on the little bridge now, in the +quiet dusk of even, leaning against the railing and looking pensively down +into the shallow water below. Suddenly she raised her hand and pressed it +again and again to her lips--the same hand which Stephen had kissed.</p> + +<p>A step upon the bridge startled her, and her heart beat fast. Had anyone +seen what she did? She thought she was alone, but somebody was coming. She +turned away her flushed face, and gazed down into the water, leaning her +arms upon the railing. The steps drew nearer. They were opposite her, and +soon they would pass. Some neighbour, no doubt, going home. If he had seen +her action he would tell others, and soon every person around would know. +Presently the steps paused. The silence frightened her. It was dusk; no +house in sight, and she was alone. Quickly she faced about, and there +standing before her was Stephen. A cry of surprise escaped her, and the +next instant she felt his strong arms about her and his lips fervently +pressing her own.</p> + +<p>"Stephen!" she cried, struggling to free Herself. "How dare you! When did +you come?"</p> + +<p>"Just from home, and was resting under that big tree," Stephen replied +still holding her tenderly. "I dared much after I saw what you did a few +minutes ago. Oh, Nellie, Nellie. I have been waiting long for this moment! +Surely, surely you are mine at last!"</p> + +<p>The flush had left Nellie's face now, leaving it very white, though in the +deepening twilight this was not noticeable. Her heart was beating +tumultuously, and a new feeling of peace and rest was stealing over her. +How powerful seemed the man standing there. So long had she been called +upon to be strong, always helping, ever taking such a responsible place in +life, caring for her father, strengthening him in his work--and upon her +he depended. But now to feel that she could give herself up to another, +one who had passed through a stern fight in the strength of his sturdy +young manhood, and had come forth as victor. Yet mingling with this +new-found joy came the thought of the dark shadow hanging over her +father's life. How could she be happy when he was in trouble? For his sake +she had kept the brave spirit and presented only the bright sunny face, +and cheery words of hope. The tension for weeks, nay months, had been a +severe strain--and now this sudden joy! It unnerved her. Words would not +come to Stephen's passionate pleading, but in their stead tears stole down +her cheeks, while her form trembled with convulsive sobs.</p> + +<p>Stephen started in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nellie! Nellie!" he cried. "What have I done! Forgive me! I did not mean +to hurt you! I thought you would understand. If you only knew how I love +you--if you only----"</p> + +<p>"I know it, Stephen--I know it. I am very foolish. Please forgive me. I +cannot explain these tears--they come unbidden."</p> + +<p>"Then you're not unhappy, Nellie? You are not cross with me?"</p> + +<p>"Cross, dear Stephen, no. I am so happy, very happy. But why should I be +happy when my father is in trouble? How dare I! Is it right?"</p> + +<p>"Then you love me, Nellie! Oh, speak the word--let me hear it from your +own lips!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Stephen, I do love you, don't you know it? I am yours, your very +own."</p> + +<p>"Thank God! thank God!" he cried, drawing her closer to him, and kissing +her again and again. She did not resist now, but allowed him to hold her +there while he breathed into her ear his sweet words of love. They were no +studied, well-rounded phrases, but such as leaped from a true, noble +heart, and the woman listening knew their worth.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you write to me, Stephen?" Nellie whispered, "and tell me you +were coming? I have been worried lately, and it would have been something +to look forward to."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I was coming until this morning," came the reply.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know?"</p> + +<p>"No--I left in the night."</p> + +<p>"This is more mysterious than ever."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I left very early this morning, and should have been here by the +middle of the afternoon, but Dexter threw a shoe about five miles back. I +had to leave him at a farm, and walk the remainder of the way. I was +resting by the bridge when you came along. I was quite put out to think I +had to tramp that distance and be so late. But now I know it was for the +best. Doesn't everything turn out right, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es, some things do," was the reluctant reply. "This has, anyway, and +I try to believe that all things concerning my poor father will come out +right, too. I think we had better go to him now and tell him of our +happiness. It may brighten him up a bit."</p> + +<p>Side by side they walked slowly along the road, and Stephen told the whole +story of Tony's return, the hidden box, the political meeting, the +discovery of the gold in the safe, and Farrington's ignominious +punishment.</p> + +<p>They had reached the house by the time he had finished, and stood for a +moment on the doorstep before entering. In Nellie's heart was such a joy +that words would not come to her lips. She felt she must be asleep, and +would awake to find it only an unsubstantial dream. But Stephen's arm +around her, and his strong presence near, assured her that it was a +blessed reality.</p> + +<p>They found Mr. Westmore sitting alone in his little room, reading by the +shaded lamp. He glanced quickly up and was surprised to see Stephen +standing by Nellie's side. He saw the look of rapture upon their faces, +and read at once the meaning of it all, and into his own weary face came a +light which Nellie had not seen in many a day. She tried to speak, but +words failed, and moving quickly forward she threw her arms about her +father's neck, and kissed him fervently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, I am so happy!" she whispered. "Do you know? Can you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling," he replied. "I do understand. Come near, Stephen, my son," +and as the young man approached, he joined their hands, and bade them to +kneel before him. Then stretching out his hand over the bowed heads, and +in a voice trembling with emotion, he gave them his benediction. "May the +Lord bless you and keep you," he said. "May the Lord make His face to +shine upon you, and be gracious unto you, and keep you true to Him and to +each other unto your lives' end."</p> + +<p>Sitting by Mr. Westmore's side that evening, Stephen told the story he had +recently related to Nellie. Parson John sat straight upright in his chair, +and his eyes never once left Stephen's face.</p> + +<p>"And do you tell me!" he cried, when the latter ceased, "that Dan is +injured--lying unconscious?"</p> + +<p>"He was when Tony left."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear boy! and he did it all for me!" murmured the parson. "What a +sacrifice to make of his bright young life I I must go to him, Nellie, at +once! In the morning! Poor Dan! Poor Dan!"</p> + +<p>Thus the three sat for some time talking of the accident and planning for +the journey. Not once did Mr. Westmore speak about the recovery of the +gold, but that night in the quietness of his own room he poured out his +soul, in a great, fervent prayer of thankfulness to the Father above, and +also he sought His aid on behalf of a little wounded lad lying on a bed of +pain in a farm-house miles away.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_30"></a>Chapter XXX</h1> + +<h2>Beneath the Surface</h2> + + + +<p>Across the mouth of Big Creek stream a long double boom cradled the large +"R & P" drive. The last log had shot safely down the crooked brook and +rested calmly by the side of its companions. There were thousands of them +there, scarred and battered by rock and flood; worthy veterans were they, +this hardy army of the forest, reposing now after their fierce, mad +charge.</p> + +<p>The work of the drivers was done, and the last peevy had been tossed with +a resounding thud among its companions. A score of men were they who for +months had been confined to the lonely life of the woods, and who for days +had often been face to face with death. Naturally their eyes turned +towards the river some distance away. There on its bank nestled the little +town, and there, too, stood the Flood Gate Tavern, the most notorious +place in the whole countryside. How often during the winter evenings had +they talked of the many wild scenes which had been enacted there, and of +the wages of months squandered in a night. Though they talked about the +place and cursed it, yet, like moths singed by the candle's flame, they +had returned spring after spring to the Hood Gate Tavern to spend the +wages needed at home. Their money, too, was awaiting them there in the +Company's office. But now they hesitated. Never before had such a thing +been known. Formerly there was a rush to the town when the last log had +come in.</p> + +<p>It was evening as the men stood there, and the sun was hanging low far in +the west. The yearning for the tavern was strong--it called, it appealed +to them. But another power was holding these rugged drivers in check. +Their hearts had been much stirred these last few days, although not one +acknowledged it. A little helpless, suffering child was unconsciously +restraining the brute nature within them. He was holding them in leash, +binding them by strange, invisible cords. In silence they ate their supper +in the rafting house near by.</p> + +<p>"Boys," said Jake Purdy as the men sat outside smoking. "I'm goin' down +town to see if there's any mail. Any of ye comin'?"</p> + +<p>It was all that was needed, and at once every man responded. Down the road +they marched, their great boots making a heavy thud as they moved along. +Into the post office they tramped, and stood around while the few letters +were doled out. For Jake, there was one, written by a child's trembling +hand. Eagerly he opened it, and, as he read, his face underwent a +remarkable change. The rugged lines softened, and when he turned to the +men waiting for him, there was no gruffness in his voice.</p> + +<p>"'Spose we git our money, lads, an' hike back," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," was the response, but in several hearts there was a keen longing +to remain.</p> + +<p>Right in front of the Company's office stood the Flood Gate Tavern. The +proprietor had been expecting the drivers and was well stocked up. He saw +them coming into town and watched them enter the office for their money.</p> + +<p>"They'll be here soon, Joe," he said to his assistant, "an' mind ye don't +let an opportunity slip. Them bottles must go tonight. I know there'll be +lively times about here. Them d--n temperance workers are dead set agin +us, an' it looks as if they'd make trouble. But we'll win out tonight, and +they can go to ----. Say, here they come. Now for the time--an' money. Oh, +they're jist achin' to give me their wages. They won't forgit old Ned, +that's sure. Ha, ha!" and the saloon-keeper rubbed his hands with glee.</p> + +<p>The drivers were outside the office now, and were casting furtive glances +across the way. Big Jake saw the looks and knew the longing which dwelt in +their hearts. He drew forth his pipe, stuck his little finger deliberately +into the bowl to see how much tobacco it contained.</p> + +<p>"Boys," he began, "have yez anything on fer the night?"</p> + +<p>"No," came the somewhat surly response, "unless we go over there."</p> + +<p>"Don't go," said Jake. "We've spent too much there in past years. Let's +save our money fer them wot needs it at home. Let me tell ye somethin'. +Comin' down the road from the boom to-night I felt like seven devils. I +was jist longin' to git into that saloon an' have a big drink. But as luck +'ud have it I went into the post office first, an' found this here letter. +An' who is it from, d'ye think? From me own little sick lassie at home. +Look at the writin', boys. Ain't it fine? An' what a letter it is. She +says she's waitin' fer me, an' counts the days until I come. Listen to +these words: 'Don't go near the saloon, papa. Come straight home, an' +bring the money to pay fer the farm. I pray fer you every day, papa, an' I +pray fer all the men on the drive, and fer that poor little boy who got +hurt.' Ain't them great words, boys?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," came the reply, and into several hearts throbbed a desire to be +stronger men, and a few brushed their sleeves across their eyes.</p> + +<p>"But that ain't all," Jake continued. "She says that little boy wot got +hurt belongs to an old man--a parson--an' his beautiful daughter, who have +been good to her. They didn't know where the little boy was, but when they +found out they was all upsot, an' left in a hurry, but stopped in to say +good-bye to my little Doris. That was two days ago, and they must be up +there at Big Sam's now. Boys, let me tell ye this: Anyone who is good to +my little sick lass is good to me, an' Jake Purdy isn't a man to fergit; +yez know that. Now I have a suggestion to make. Instead of spendin' our +hard-earned money with that old wretch, Ned, let's go up in a body to the +house an' inquire fer the sick lad. We can't do nuthin', I know, but mebbe +it'll please the old man an' his daughter to know that we ain't fergotten +the brave little boy. An' come to think further it's no mor'n our duty. +That lad saved one of us from death, an' the one that was saved, saved me. +Boys, ye can do as yez like, but I'm goin' anyway."</p> + +<p>There was no hesitation now among these men. With one accord they turned +their backs upon the village, and struck along the road leading out into +the country. Old Ned, the saloon-keeper, watched them in amazement. Never +before had they done such a thing. What would become of all the whisky in +those bottles standing on the shelves?</p> + +<p>"The idiots!" he yelled. "What's the matter with 'em?"</p> + +<p>Bareheaded he rushed out into the street and lifted up his voice.</p> + +<p>"Hi! hi!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>The drivers paused and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" panted Ned running up to where they were standing.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, old man?" questioned one.</p> + +<p>"Wrong! What's wrong with you? Why are ye leavin' without droppin' in to +see me? Surely ye ain't goin' to go away without a friendly call?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Ned," replied Jake, acting as spokesman for the others, "we've +made too many friendly calls at your place fer our own good. This year +we're goin' to cut it out. So go home an' don't interfere."</p> + +<p>Had the saloon-keeper been less excited he would have noticed the warning +note in Jake's voice, and the sombre looks of the rest. They were in no +mood for interruption at the present time. But Ned was blind to all this.</p> + +<p>"Ye fools!" he roared, stamping on the ground in his rage. "Will ye let +all that good stuff spile down yonder? Surely ye ain't gone an' jined the +temperance gang, an' took the pledge?"</p> + +<p>Fiercely Jake turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Ned," and his voice was laden with meaning, "will ye go home an' leave us +alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, h----if I will, unless ye all come back with me."</p> + +<p>Jake's eyes turned suddenly to the right. They rested upon a pond of dirty +water several feet deep lying there. Like a flash he reached out and +caught the saloon-keeper in both hands, lifted him clear of the ground, +carried him wriggling and cursing to the edge, and tossed him in like a +ball. With a splash and a yell Ned went under, came up puffing and +blowing, and dashing the water from his eyes and ears. A shout of derision +went up from the drivers.</p> + +<p>"Go home now, Ned," they cried. "You've soaked us fer years with yer +stuff, an' you've got soaked now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>With that they continued on their way, leaving the victim to scramble out +of the pond and make his way home, beaten and crestfallen.</p> + +<p>Along the road the drivers marched, then up the hill leading to Big Sam's +abode. It was dim twilight as they stood before the house. The evening was +balmy, and the front door stood partly open. For a minute they hesitated, +and a whispered conversation ensued.</p> + +<p>"You go in, Jake. You've got a tongue fer sich things," suggested his +companions.</p> + +<p>But before a reply could be made there floated out upon the air a sweet +voice singing an old familiar hymn. Instinctively every driver pulled off +his rough hat, and bowed his shaggy head. It was a woman's voice they +heard, low and tender. There was a pleading note in the singer's +voice--the cry of a soul for help in trouble.</p> + +<p>Little did Nellie realize as she sat by Dan's side this evening, and sang, +that she had such attentive listeners. The past two days had been a time +of much anxiety. When first she and her father had arrived, Dan did not +know them. He was lying upon the bed, his little curly head resting upon +the pillow as white as his own white face. Would he ever come out of that +stupor? they asked each other time and time again as they sat and watched +him. Often he talked, calling aloud for help, and pleading for someone to +hurry. Now it was of Tony and again Nellie and Parson John. Occasionally +he mentioned his father, and asked why he was so long in coming. The +doctor stood by the bedside with an anxious face.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he will recover?" Nellie asked.</p> + +<p>"I can't say," was the reply. "He has been badly injured. But we should +know soon one way or the other. This condition can't go on much longer."</p> + +<p>It was hard for Nellie to persuade her father to take any rest. He would +insist upon sitting by the bed, and holding Dan's hand.</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear boy," he murmured. "Why did you do it? Why did you run such a +risk for my sake?"</p> + +<p>Once coming quietly into the room Nellie saw her father kneeling by the +bedside. His lips were moving in silent prayer. In his heart a deep love +had been formed for this little wounded lad. For months past the two had +been much together, and the bond of affection had been strongly formed. At +length Nellie had persuaded her father to take some rest. He had cast one +long, searching look upon the boy's face, and then silently left the room. +For some time Nellie sat by Dan's side watching his fitful breathing. One +little hand lay outside the quilt. Would it ever work for her again? she +wondered. It was a brown hand--the same hand which had reached over and +drawn Tony from death. As she sat there the door was quietly pushed open, +and Marion stood before her. Her eyes looked towards the bed with a +questioning appeal. In her right hand she clutched a little rose. It was +the first time she had been in the sick room, and on this evening while +her mother was busy she had softly stolen away.</p> + +<p>"Give dis to ittle sick boy," she said. "He like pitty woses."</p> + +<p>"Come here, dear," Nellie replied, and as the child approached she took +the flower, and placed the stem in Dan's doubled-up hand. She did it +merely to please Marion, but it thrilled her own heart to behold the +little maiden's sweet offering lying in that poor, nerveless fist. "God +bless you, darling," she said, drawing Marion to her. "You love the sick +boy, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Me love him," came the response, "an' me lore oo. Will Dod make him +better?"</p> + +<p>"God will do what is best, dearie. You will pray for him, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Me pray for him every night. Will oo sing to Dod to make him better?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish me to sing?"</p> + +<p>"When I'm sick my mamma sings to Dod. I fink He hears better dat way, an' +I det better. Will oo sing?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish me to, I will."</p> + +<p>"Let me det in oor lap den," and Marion, climbing up, made herself +perfectly at home.</p> + +<p>Nellie was not in a singing mood this evening, but the child's words had +touched her. She thought they were alone--just two, to hear. Verse after +verses she sang, and as she reached the chorus of the last verse she gave +a start of surprise, suddenly ceased, and looked towards the door. A +number of men's voices had taken up the chorus, and they were singing, not +loud, but as softly as possible:</p> + +<blockquote> "Safe in the arms of Jesus,<br> + Safe on His gentle breast,<br> + There by His love o'ershadowed<br> + Sweetly my soul shall rest."</blockquote> + +<p>Nellie had put Marion down now, had risen to her feet, and crossed the +room to the door. Almost unconsciously the drivers had joined in that +chorus. They had forgotten how it would startle the sweet singer, and when +they saw Nellie standing in the doorway they were much abashed. They felt +like a group of schoolboys caught in some act of mischief, and they longed +to get away.</p> + +<p>As Nellie looked upon them, a bright smile illumined her face. She +surmised the purpose of their visit, and it pleased her.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for that chorus," she said, hardly knowing what else to say. "I +didn't know you were here." + +"Pardon us, miss," Jake replied, stepping forward. "It wasn't fair of us +to be standin' here listenin'. But we couldn't help it. An' when ye sang +that old hymn it jist melted us down. We come to inquire about the boy. +Mebbe ye'd tell us how he's gettin' along."</p> + +<p>"There's no change as yet, that we can see," Nellie replied. "But the +doctor says it must come soon one way or the other. Would you like to see +him? If you come in one at a time, I don't think it will do any harm."</p> + +<p>Without a word Jake followed her into the room, and stood with his hat in +his hand looking down upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"Poor little chap," he whispered. "Ain't it a pity?"</p> + +<p>Hardly had he ceased speaking when Dan suddenly opened his eyes and looked +about him in a dazed manner.</p> + +<p>"Where--where's my rose?" he cried.</p> + +<p>Nellie was by his side in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Here, Dan," and she lifted up the flower so he could see it. "Hush now, +don't speak."</p> + +<p>Dan gave a sigh of relief. He looked wearily around, then his eyes slowly +closed, and he passed into a gentle sleep. A step was heard in the room, +and the doctor stood by the bed.</p> + +<p>"When did the change take place?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Just now," Nellie replied in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"It is well. The crisis is past. He must have perfect quietness. We'll +pull him through now, for sure."</p> + +<p>Jake waited to hear no more. He stole from the house, and motioned to his +companions. Silently they moved away and strode back to the camp. They +were rough men outwardly, this score of river drivers, but a glimpse had +been seen beneath the surface. Their hearts had been stirred as never +before, and they were not ashamed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_31"></a>Chapter XXXI</h1> + +<h2>Light at Eventide</h2> + + + +<p>It was a bright buoyant day, with scarcely a cloud to be seen. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air, and every nimble leaf was still. The river +flowed on its way, its glassy surface mirroring the numerous trees along +its banks. Across the fields, fresh with the young green grass, came the +sweet incense wafted up from countless early flowers.</p> + +<p>Several people stood before the Rectory, beneath the shade of a large +horse-chestnut tree. Their eyes were turned up the road with an eager, +watchful expression. Across the gateway a rude arch had been formed, and +upon it the words "Welcome Home" in large white letters had been painted, +while evergreens and leaves lavishly decorated the whole. It was Glendow's +preparation for the return of their absent Rector and his daughter.</p> + +<p>Numerous changes had taken place since the night on which the gold had +been found in the safe. The store was now closed and the Farringtons had +departed. There had been many threats made by the defeated storekeeper, +but they amounted to nothing. Glendow had been aroused, and the one desire +which filled all hearts was to have their old Rector back again. They +realized as never before the sterling character of the man they had +suspected, and what a true friend they had lost. Dan's accident soon +reached their ears, and all breathed a prayer of thankfulness when news +arrived of his recovery. Nothing short of a reception must take place, and +so now more than threescore people, old and young, stood anxiously +awaiting the arrival.</p> + +<p>"There they come," shouted one, and far up the road a cloud of dust could +be seen, and soon a carriage was observed bowling along, containing Parson +John, Nellie and Dan.</p> + +<p>Their eyes opened wide with amazement as they drew near, saw the cheering +crowd, and drove beneath the overhanging arch. Silently they alighted and +grasped the numerous outstretched hands. The past was forgotten in the joy +of the present, and the shepherd and his flock were once again united.</p> + +<p>"It all seems like a wonderful dream," said Parson John to Nellie as they +sat that evening together after the others had departed. "We went out as +culprits, with only a few to bid us good-bye, and now we come home to the +love of our people. Surely the Lord has been good to us, and has led us by +ways that we knew not. Truly His ways are not our ways, and He does all +things well."</p> + +<p>Dan speedily recovered his former strength and his old-time spirit. He was +like a new lad. The weight which had pressed upon him so long had been +removed. He felt he was no longer a sponger, a useless being. His longing +to read and write increased, and as the days passed he made rapid +progress. Mr. Westmore loved to have the boy by his side and would often +read to him, and Dan would always listen with deep wonder. New fields of +knowledge were being gradually opened of which he knew nothing.</p> + +<p>"When I grow to be a big man will I know all about those things?" he one +day asked, when Mr. Westmore had been reading to him from an interesting +book of History.</p> + +<p>"That all rests with yourself, Dan," was the reply. "If you want to know, +you can. But it will mean hard work. There is no royal road to learning."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm going to learn," Dan emphatically responded, and from that day +Mr. Westmore began to plan for the boy's future as he had never done +before.</p> + +<p>One evening about sundown, several weeks later, Nellie and her father were +sitting on the veranda. It was a sultry night, and far in the distance +faint rumblings of thunder could be heard.</p> + +<p>"A storm is coming," Nellie remarked. "I hope Mr. Larkins will get back +from the office before it reaches us."</p> + +<p>Hardly had she spoken ere a step sounded upon the gravel walk and Mr. +Larkins appeared.</p> + +<p>"We were just speaking about you," Nellie exclaimed, "and now you are +here."</p> + +<p>"You know the old saying," he laughingly replied.</p> + +<p>"Have a seat, do," and Mr. Westmore pushed forward a rustic chair.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, I have some chores to do before the storm breaks. Here is +your mail. Several papers and only one letter."</p> + +<p>"It's from my boy out west," Mr. Westmore remarked after Mr. Larkins had +gone. "We've had little news from him lately. I hope nothing's wrong."</p> + +<p>His hand trembled slightly as he opened the letter and unfolded several +sheets of paper within. Nellie picked up one of the papers, a daily from +the city, and was soon engrossed in its pages. An exclamation from her +father caused her to look quickly up. The expression on his face was one +of joy. It was that of a man from whom a heavy burden of care has been +unexpectedly lifted.</p> + +<p>"Nellie, Nellie!" he cried. "Good news from Philip! He's won his case! The +mine is ours beyond dispute, and it is far richer than was at first +believed. Read it for yourself," and he eagerly thrust the letter into her +hand.</p> + +<p>Trembling with excitement Nellie did as she was commanded. The first part +of the letter told about the long, stern fight which had been made, and of +the victory which had been won.</p> + +<p>"You little know, father dear," Philip wrote in conclusion, "what this +will mean to us all. Upon my suggestion you invested your all in this +mine, and at one time it looked as if we would lose everything. But now +all that is changed. I am a rich man to-day and you will no longer want +for anything. Your investment will be increased a hundredfold, and you +will make more in one year than you have made in your whole life. As soon +as I get matters in a settled condition I hope to come home for a short +visit, and then. I shall be able to tell you everything in detail."</p> + +<p>For some time Nellie held the letter silently in her hand. Her father was +sitting near with a far-away look in his eyes. Gone were time and place. +He was thinking of the day he had bidden Philip good-bye. He saw the +mother clasping her only son to her heart, and it was the last good-bye. +What hopes and fears had been theirs concerning their absent boy. What +struggles had been his out in the great busy world, and how often had his +home letters been weighted with despair. Many and many a night had they +knelt together and lifted up their voices in prayer on Philip's behalf. +Now she was gone. Oh, to have her there by his side to share his joy! A +mistiness rose before his eyes, and several tears stole down his furrowed +cheeks. Hastily he drew forth his handkerchief and brushed them away. +Nellie noticed his embarrassed manner, and surmised the cause. Going over +to where he was sitting she put her arms about his neck and gave him a +loving kiss.</p> + +<p>"You have me, father dear," she said, "and nothing but death can separate +us."</p> + +<p>"I know it, darling. I know it," was the reply. "I am somewhat unsettled +to-night. This news is so sudden. To think that Philip has conquered! Now +you shall have many comforts which have been denied you so long."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, father dear. What comforts have been denied me? My whole +life has been surrounded by love. We have our little home here, with books +and music in the winter, and the sweet flowers and birds in the summer. +Does not happiness, father, consist in enjoying the good things around us? +Not for my sake am I glad that this good fortune has come, but for yours. +If Philip is correct, and we are to have more money than ever before, you +will be able to rest and enjoy life to the full."</p> + +<p>"Nellie, Nellie! What do you mean? Do I understand you aright? Do you wish +me to give up my work?"</p> + +<p>"But you need rest, father. You have laboured so long, surely you can +afford to let someone else do it now."</p> + +<p>"No, no. The Lord needs me yet. There is much work for me to do. Life to +me is in ministering to others. During those long days at Morristown, when +that cloud overshadowed us, how wretched was my life. Nothing to do--only +to sit with folded hands while others waited upon me. I shudder when I +think of that time. No, let me be up and doing, and God grant I may die in +harness, and not rust out in miserable disuse."</p> + +<p>"But you should have an assistant, father," Nellie suggested, "and he can +give you great help."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of that, dear. It seems now as if one great wish of +my life is to be granted. I have always longed to give several years to +God's service, without being chargeable to any one. Oh, to go among my +people, to comfort them, not as a servant, a hireling paid to do such +things, but as a shepherd who loves his flock, and whose reward is in +doing the Master's work, for the good of others. The people may pay the +assistant, but not me. I wish to be free, free for God's service."</p> + +<p>Footsteps were now heard approaching, and in a minute more Stephen stood +before them. The flush of joy that suffused Nellie's face told of the +happiness in her heart.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Stephen, my son," said Parson John, reaching out his hand. "Your +visit is timely when our cup of joy is full to the brim and running over. +We have not seen you for two whole days. Where have you kept yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Stephen has been to the city," was Nellie's laughing response. +"Didn't I tell you how he had gone with his logs?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, so you did. How stupid of me to forget."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Stephen, "my winter's work is all settled and I have come now +to make the first payment on the farm. There it is. Please count it," and +the young man placed a bulky envelope into his Rector's hand. "That is a +token of my new life, and with God's help it shall continue."</p> + +<p>For several minutes Mr. Westmore held the package in his hand without once +looking upon it.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Stephen," he at length commanded. "I have something to say--to +you--and I feel I can say it now with a clear conscience. Since the day I +paid the four thousand dollars for your homestead, people have been +wondering where I obtained the money, and they certainly had good reason +to wonder. They knew I had invested all I could gather together in that +mine in British Columbia, and that I could pay down such an amount was +very puzzling. It is only right that you and Nellie should hear the truth +from my own lips. You well know," he continued after a pause, "that your +father was a very dear friend of mine. We had grown up as boys together. +We knew each other's affairs intimately, and we often discussed the +future. Your father made considerable money, and had a fairly large bank +account. One day he came to me--only several months before his death--and +we had a most serious talk together. He seemed to have some premonition +that he would not be much longer upon earth, and was most anxious that I +should consent to a plan which he had in his mind. He was fearful lest +after his death something should go wrong. He knew what a headstrong lad +you were, Stephen, and what a temptation it would be to spend recklessly +his hard-earned money. He therefore wished me to act as trustee, with +another firm friend who is living in the city, and to place in the bank in +our names the sum of six thousand dollars. This was to be left there, +unknown to others, until you proved yourself to be a man in every sense of +the word. In case of disaster or trouble we were to use the money at our +discretion for the welfare of the family and not to allow your mother or +sister to come to want. That, in brief, is the substance of the plan. At +first I did not feel like undertaking such a responsibility. But your +father was so insistent I at last consented. I need hardly tell you the +rest, for you know it already. I could not, in justice to your father's +express wish, divulge the secret until I was sure that you had taken a +firm grip of life. You needed to be tested, to pass through the fire. Now +I know you can be depended upon, and so I give you back this money, Keep +it; it is yours, and may God bless you. Part of the balance which remained +in the bank we used on Nora with such splendid results. The rest shall be +handed over to your mother, and I shall thus be relieved of all +responsibility. Will that be satisfactory to you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore ceased, and held forth the envelope. Stephen had risen now +and was standing erect. His hands remained clasped before him.</p> + +<p>"Take it," said the parson.</p> + +<p>"No," was the reply, "I cannot."</p> + +<p>"You cannot? It is yours!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. But remember, I have undertaken to pay back that four +thousand dollars. Through my recklessness I made it necessary to use my +dear father's hard-earned money. Not a cent will I touch until the full +amount is restored, and if I have my health it shall be done. Do not urge +me any more. Put that money where it belongs. It may take me some time to +pay all, but not until it is accomplished shall I feel satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Stephen, Stephen!" cried the parson, "give me your hand. Now I know that +you are in earnest. I shall do as you desire. My heart is full of joy +to-night. May God be glorified for all His blessings. I shall away to rest +now, for the many wonders of the day have tired me much."</p> + +<p>The storm which had been threatening rolled to westward. Far off the moon +rose slowly above the horizon. The night was still. Everything betokened +peace. On the little veranda sat the two young lovers hand in hand. Heart +responded to heart, and time was no more. The present and the future were +blended. The rapture of living was theirs, for where love reigns there is +life in all its fulness.</p> + + + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps"><b>The End</b></p> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH WATCH *** + +***** This file should be named 8198-h.htm or 8198-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/9/8198/ + +Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> +</HTML> + diff --git a/8198.txt b/8198.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b41db7c --- /dev/null +++ b/8198.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8821 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Fourth Watch + +Author: H. A. Cody + +Posting Date: April 29, 2013 [EBook #8198] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: July 1, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH WATCH *** + + + + +Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +THE FOURTH WATCH + +BY + +H. A. CODY + +AUTHOR OF THE FRONTIERSMAN, UNDER SEALED ORDERS, THE LONG PATROL, ETC. + + + + + + +TO ALL + +"Messengers, Watchmen and Stewards of the Lord," who have faithfully +toiled through Life's long night, and now in their Fourth Watch and Last +Watch behold the dawn of a new Life breaking, this book is affectionately +dedicated by one but yet in the Second Watch. + + + + +Contents + + + + I.--The Awakening + II.--The Vision + III.--Glendow Rectory + IV.--The Warder of the Night + V.--The Breath of Slander + VI.--The Auction + VII.--The Farringtons + VIII.--The Golden Key + IX.--Beating the Devil + X.--In Camp + XI.--Guarding the Flock + XII.--Light and Shadow + XIII.--For the Sake of a Child + XIV.--The Long Night + XV.--Deepening Shadows + XVI.--For Sweet Love's Sake + XVII.--Hitting Back + XVIII.--Wash-Tub Philosophy + XIX.--The Sting + XX.--The Overseer + XXI.--Decision + XXII.--In the Deep of the Heart + XXIII.--Where Is Dan? + XXIV.--The Rush of Doom + XXV.--Beneath the Ashes + XXVI.--A Rope of Sand + XXVII.--In the Toils +XXVIII.--Waiting and Serving + XXIX.--Rifted Clouds + XXX.--Beneath the Surface + XXXI.--Light at Eventide + + + + +The Fourth Watch + + + + +Chapter I + +The Awakening + + +The boy plied his hoe in a listless manner, for his thoughts were +elsewhere. Several hundred yards to the right stood the forest, glorious +in its brilliant autumn hues. There among those trees the wary partridges +were feeding or perching temptingly upon bough, fallen log or ragged +stump. To the left the waters of the noble River St. John rippled and +sparkled beneath the glowing sun. Over there amidst that long stretch of +marshland, in many a cove and reedy creek, the wild ducks were securely +hidden. What connection had a rugged, stirring lad with a brown sombre +potato patch when the strong insistent voice of the wild was calling him +to fields afar? There was no inspiration here--among these straggling +rows. Nothing to thrill a boy's heart, or to send the blood surging and +tingling through his body. But there--! He sighed as he leaned upon his +hoe and looked yearningly around. Down on the shore; in a sheltered cove +among the trees, the _Scud_, a small boat, was idly flapping her +dirty patched sail. + +"Wonder what dad left it up for?" thought the boy. + +"Maybe he's going after more ducks. Wish to goodness he'd help with these +potatoes so I could get off, too." + +Then his eyes roamed out over the water until they rested upon a white +sail away in the distance, bearing steadily down-stream. He watched it +carelessly for some time, but noticing the manner in which it drooped +under an occasional squall his interest became aroused. + +"There's too much canvas, that's sure!" he ejaculated. "Some idiot, I +s'pose, who doesn't know 'bout these squalls. Guess he'll learn soon if he +isn't careful. Now the _Scud_, she's all right. I'd risk her any +time--My--!" and he almost held his breath as the white sail, much nearer +now, swooped to the water like the wing of a gigantic bird. The boat +righted herself, however, and sped gracefully forward. Again and again she +dipped and careened under each successive squall, winning the lad's +unstinted admiration. But even as he looked and wondered, a furious gust +caught the white sail as it listed heavily, and drove it with one sweep to +the water, overturning the boat as it did so. With a cry of fear the boy +dropped his hoe, stared for an instant at the overturned craft, and then +sped across the potato field sloping to the shore. He did not wait to go +by the path, which led straight up to a little cabin in the valley, but, +making a short cut to the left, leaped into a tangled thicket beyond. He +crashed his way through the branches and underbrush, not heeding the +numerous scratches upon face and hands. + +He reached the _Scud_, tore, rather than untied the painter from an +old oak root, and sent the boat reeling backwards from its moorings. The +sail flapped wildly in the breeze, which was now growing stronger, and the +craft began to drift. Catching up the centre-board, lying near, the boy +drove it down into its narrow groove with a resounding thud. Seizing the +sheet-line with one hand, and squatting well astern he grasped the tiller +with the other. Nobly the boat obeyed her little determined commander. The +sail filled, she listed to the left and darted forward, bearing bravely up +the wind. Straight ahead the boy could see the distressed boat sinking +lower and lower in the water, with a man and a woman clinging desperately +to the upturned side. The wind was now whistling around him, and at times +threatening to rip away the patched sail. The water was rough, and the +angry white-caps were dashing their cold spray over his clothes. But not +for an instant did he swerve from his course until quite near the wreck. +Then letting go the sheet-line he permitted the boat to fall away a little +to the left. In this manner he was able to swing gradually in a +half-circle, and by the time he was up again to the teeth of the wind the +_Scud_ was lying close to the overturned boat. + +So preoccupied had been the boy up to this moment that he had no time to +observe closely the shipwrecked pair. Now, however, he cast a curious +glance in their direction, as he let go the rudder and sheet-line, and +threw out the painter to the man. Eagerly the latter seized the rope, and +managed to hold the two boats together. + +"Give us yer hand," shouted the boy, "and let her come out first. Be +careful now," he continued as the crafts bumped against each other. +"There, that's good." + +With considerable difficulty the two strangers were rescued from their +perilous position, and then the _Scud_ dropped away from the wreck. + +"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy, as once again he brought the +boat to the wind. + +"Over there," responded the man, pointing to the opposite shore. "We can +land on that point and get driven home." + +Almost mechanically the boy swung the _Scud_ around, and headed her +for the place indicated. From the moment he had caught a glimpse of the +woman clinging to the boat he had found it hard to turn away his eyes. Her +hat was gone, and the wind was blowing her dark-brown hair about her face, +which was white as death. But when she turned her large blue eyes filled +with gratitude and fear upon her rescuer, a strange feeling of +embarrassment swept suddenly over him. Women he had seen before, but none +such as this. How quiet she was, too--not a cry or complaint did she make. +Her clothes were wet; the water cold, and the wind raw. But she sat there +in the boat watching him with those big eyes as he guided the _Scud_ +steadily forward. + +He looked at her dress, how neat and clean it was. Then he glanced at his +own rough togs. How coarse, worn and dirty were they, while his shoes were +heavy grey brogans. A flush mantled his sun-browned face. He shifted +uneasily, gripped the tiller more firmly, and drove the _Scud_ a +point nearer to the wind. What must she think of him? he wondered. Was she +comparing him with the well-dressed man at her side, who was looking +thoughtfully out over the blue water? A feeling of jealousy stole into his +heart. He had never known such a thing before. He knew what it was to be +angry--to stamp and shout in his rage. He had engaged in several pitched +battles with the boys in the neighbourhood who had made fun of him. But +his life--a life of freedom--had satisfied him. To hunt, to trap, to +wander over hill, valley and forest was all that he asked for. He had +never thought of anything higher, never dreamed of any life but the one +his father led, hunting, and trapping in season and making a slight +pretence of farming. Now, however, something was stirring within him. He +longed to show this woman that though his clothes and shoes were rough, he +was almost a man and could do great things. + +"What is your name, my boy?" + +The words startled him, and he glanced quickly up. The woman was looking +at him still, but now she was smiling. Was she laughing at him? + +"My name's Dan," was the reply. + +"Dan, Dan what?" + +"Oh, just old Jim's boy." + +"Old Jim, Old Jim!" repeated the woman. "Do you mean Jim Flitter, the +trapper?" + +"Yep, that's him." + +"And do you live over there?" + +"Yep. In that shanty up the valley, Dad and I live there alone." + +"Have you no mother, Dan?" and the woman's voice was soft and low. + +"None now." + +She was about to question further, but noticing the look upon the boy's +face she desisted. + +"Do you know you've saved our lives?" she remarked after a short silence. +"I can never thank you enough for what you have done for us to-day. I +don't think I could have clung to that boat much longer." + +"I ain't done nuthin'," Dan replied. "But next time you go out don't carry +so much sail, specially when it's squally. I mayn't always be handy like I +was to-day. But come, we're at the pint, so I'll land you here." Saying +which, Dan let the sail go free, and ran the boat gently up the pebbly +shore. + +"Now, my boy," asked the man, "how much do I owe you?" Dan had stooped and +was about to push the _Scud_ from the beach. He looked up quickly at +the question, but made no reply. + +"How much?" demanded the man, somewhat impatiently. + +"What do you mean?" asked the boy. + +"What do I mean? Simply this. You've done us a great service, saved us +from death, and how much money do you want? How much shall I pay you?" + +"Nuthin'." + +Dan was standing erect now. His dark eyes fixed full upon the man's face, +flashed with anger, while his heart thumped tumultuously beneath his +little checkered shirt. + +"What! won't take any pay!" + +"No!" + +"And why not?" + +"Cause I won't. You've no right to ask me. It ain't fair!" + +That was all Dan could utter. He could not express his feelings; +repugnance filled his heart at the thought of taking money for what he had +done. He felt the woman's eyes fixed upon him. What would she think, of +him, Dan Flitter, taking money for saving people's lives? He gave one +quick glance in her direction, turned, and pushing the boat from the +shore, sprang in, leaving the man and the woman upon the beach gazing +wonderingly after him. + + + + +Chapter II + +The Vision + + +"Danny, what's the meaning of this?" + +Mr. Flitter laid down his paper, took his pipe from his mouth, and looked +inquiringly at his son. + +Dan was seated at the farther end of the table, cleaning his beloved +shot-gun. It had done good work that day, and a fine string of partridges +hung in an outer room, ready to go to the store early the next morning. A +week had now passed since the rescue on the river, and during the whole of +that time he had said nothing about it to his father. There was a reason +for this. The latter had been much away from home during the day, only +coming in late at night when his son was in bed, so they had little chance +for conversation. It was a busy season, and they must make the most of it. +So while the one scoured the forest for partridges, the other searched the +river for ducks and geese. But Dan did not feel inclined to say anything +to his father about what he had done. To him it was not worth mentioning. +That he had picked up two shipwrecked people, and set them ashore, in his +eyes was a very simple thing. It was made less so by the thought of that +woman with the large eyes, beautiful face and sunny smile. How could he +describe to his father the new feeling which had come into his breast, the +longing for something more than the life he was leading, and the desire to +show that woman what he really could do? + +His father's sudden question startled him. The mail was carried but once a +week to this place, and by the time the paper arrived from the post office +it was several days old. Mr. Flitter had come home earlier than usual, +having had a fine day's shooting on the river, and was in excellent +spirits. Game was in great demand, and he looked hopefully for good sales +on the morrow. After their scanty meal he picked up the paper and began to +read. Silence reigned in the little dingy shanty for some time, broken +only by the short, sharp question. + +"Don't you know anything about it, Danny?" insisted Mr. Flitter, noticing +the startled and puzzled look upon his son's face. + +"What do you mean, dad?" + +"Why, about that wreck on the river. This paper says that you saved two +people from drowning right off here over a week ago." + +Dan's face flushed and his heart beat fast. What! was his name in the +paper? Would the people in the big city see it? What would the boys in the +neighbourhood think? Would they make fun of him any more? He could show +them now that he was somebody, for his name was in the paper! These +thoughts drove surgingly through his brain. He rose from his place and +stood by his father's side. + +"Show me, dad," he whispered; "let me see it." + +"There, Danny, look at the heading:-- + +"'A Boy's Brave Deed.'" + +"And is that long piece all about me, dad?" + +"Yes, and it states what you did. Why didn't you tell me about it, son?" + +"Where's my name, dad?" asked Dan, unheeding his father's question. + +"There," and Mr. Flitter, pointing with his finger, spelled out the words, +"Daniel Flitter." + +"Does it say, dad, who those people were that got swamped?" + +"No, their names are not given. It only says that the young man lives in +the city. But why didn't you tell me about it, Dan?" + +"Thought it wasn't worth while," replied the boy. "But I don't see how +they know about it down there to put it in the paper." + +"How did it happen, son. Let's have the whole story." Mr. Flitter pulled +off his boots, lighted his pipe afresh, and leaned back to listen. + +"I wonder who that woman is," he remarked, when Dan had finished his brief +account. "I know most people for miles around, and it's strange I don't +know her from your description. However, I shall make inquiries and find +out." + +During the days that followed, Dan lived in a new world. His feet trod the +earth, and he trudged for miles the woodland ways. But his mind was in +fairyland. + +It was an enchanted world through which he moved, and he was master of +all. The trees on every side were crowds of admiring people, and the +branches were so many outstretched hands pointing to him. His breast +swelled with pride. He walked erect, his head held high, while his eyes +flashed with a triumphant light. The birds sang his praises; the squirrels +chattered one to another, and every brook babbled "Daniel Flitter, Daniel +Flitter." His name had appeared in the paper! He was no longer an obscure +person, but a hero--a wonder! He kept the clipping carefully wrapped up in +his pocket. Often he would sit down in some quiet forest spot, unfold his +treasure and look long and proudly upon those two magic words. One day as +he sat studying the paper a desire came into his heart to know all of +those wonderful words before and after his name. He could not read, never +having gone to school. In fact he never wanted to do so. His one aim was +to be a mighty hunter and trapper like his father. But now, a longing had +entered his soul; a spark from the mysterious fire of life had found a +lodging which needed only a little fanning to produce a bright and fervent +flame. + +"Dad," said he, that night, while eating his supper, "I wish I knew how to +read. All the boys in this settlement can read and write. Ain't I old +enough to begin?" + +"You're old enough, lad, but we live a long way from the schoolhouse, and +when you were little it was too far for you to walk. You might go this +winter, when there's spare time, if you don't mind the distance." + +"I don't mind that, dad, but all the rest will know so much that they'll +make fun of me. I only know a few of my letters, and mother taught me them +before she died." + +"She did, lad, she did, God bless her," and a huskiness came into Mr. +Flitter's voice as he spoke. "If she were alive now you would know as much +as any boy of your age, for your mother was a smart one, and I guess you +take after her, Dan. + +"I wish I had her now," and the boy gave a deep sigh. "She'd help me every +night, and I wouldn't be stupid any more." + +Mr. Flitter made no reply to these words. He finished his supper in +silence, and while Dan washed the few dishes he sat thoughtfully smoking +his old clay pipe. + +"Laddie," he remarked as they were preparing for bed, "I've been having +deep thoughts to-night, and I've come to the conclusion that I haven't +done right by you. I've neglected you too much." + +"In what way, dad?" questioned the boy. + +"Oh, in many ways. I've fed and clothed you, though I guess you've earned +it all. But I've not thought enough about your mind--your education, I +mean. Besides, there are deeper and more serious things in life of which +I've told you nothing. I do feel mighty guilty when I think about it all." + +"You've been good to me, though," and Dan looked inquiringly into his +father's face. + +"Yes, in a way. But, then, haven't I been good to our old mare, Queen? I +feed and blanket her. But what more have I done for you--and you are my +own son? Now look here," he added, after a pause, "I'm willing to teach +you at nights how to read, and see if we can't make up for my past +neglect." + +"Dad! D'you mean it?" + +"There now, that'll do. No more talking. Let's off to bed, and we'll have +the first lesson to-morrow night." + +The days that followed were busy ones for Dan. The shooting season closed, +but there was other work to do. The rabbits had to be snared and his +regular rounds made to the traps set for the wiry mink, lumbering raccoon, +and the wily fox. Each night, the animals brought in during the day had to +be skinned, and the pelts carefully stretched. Then when this had been +accomplished to his satisfaction he would turn his attention to his +studies. + +His father was cutting cord-wood for a neighbour, and was able to get home +at night. Then the two pored over the mysterious letters and words in the +little cabin, the elder doing his best to impart his scanty knowledge to +the younger. They were happy times for Dan. He had something to live for +now, and throughout the day, as he wandered from trap to trap, the words +he had studied the night before kept ringing in his ears. + +But, alas! such scenes were to be dispelled all too soon. They were too +good to last long. One evening Dan returned home to find an unusual +commotion about the place. Men and women were there who had never before +entered the building. And the doctor, whom he had often met on the road, +what was he doing there? What were they whispering about? and why did they +look at him in that way, when he entered the house? Where was his father? +Who was that lying on the bed so very still? Could it be dad? He had never +seen him like that before. Then the thought flashed upon him: something +was wrong! His father was hurt! and with a cry he rushed forward, and bent +over the prostrate form. But no word of welcome, no sign of recognition +did he receive. Nothing but that vacant stare met his ardent gaze. + +Slowly, very slowly, he grasped the meaning of it all, as the sympathetic +watchers told the brief story. His father had met with a serious accident. +A large birch tree in falling had lodged against another, a sturdy maple. +While cutting at the latter the birch had suddenly turned over and +swooping to the ground with a resounding crash had buried Mr. Flitter +beneath the branches ere he had had time to escape. He had been carried +home bruised, broken, and unconscious. The doctor had been hurriedly +summoned, and had done all in his power for the injured man. But in vain, +for in a short time he had breathed his last. + +Dan uttered not a word when the tale had been told. He asked no questions, +neither did he make any outcry. He stood like one stricken dumb, dry-eyed +and motionless, gazing upon that quiet form lying upon the bed. Gently +they led him away, and tried to speak to him. He did not heed them. A +weight such as he had never known before pressed upon his heart. He wished +to be alone, somewhere in the woods, out there where no one could gaze +upon him. His father was dead! For him there was no consolation from the +words of the Man of Sorrows. The life beyond had no meaning for him. His +mother had taught him to say the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to +sleep," but that seemed so long ago, and he had not repeated it after her +death. He had seen the birds and animals lying dead, but had thought +nothing about it then. Now his father was just like them, would never look +at him again, would never speak to him any more. + +He watched in a dazed manner what took place on the two following days. +Neighbours came, spoke to him, stayed awhile and then departed. The day of +the funeral arrived. He stood with the rest at the graveside. It was cold, +and the wind laden with snow whistled about him. He heard the grey-headed, +white-bearded clergyman read the Burial Service. The words of hope had no +meaning for him. An awful feeling of desolation filled his heart as he +watched the earth thrown into the grave. A shiver passed through his body, +caused not by the coldness alone. Several came to speak to him. He did not +want to see them. He turned and fled down across the field over the fence +to the humble cabin in the valley. This he entered, now so quiet and +desolate. He reached the bed--his father's bed--and throwing himself upon +it gave vent to his grief. His pent-up feelings at last found an outlet +and tears coursed down his tanned cheeks, moistening the pillow beneath +his little curly head. + + + + +Chapter III + +Glendow Rectory + + +"Are you cold, lad?" + +"No," was the brief reply. + +Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure +at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their +feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she +was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead. +It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east +presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did +not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes +sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides. + +The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and +gripped the reins more firmly. + +"What will Nellie say," he thought, "when she sees the lad? Won't she be +surprised! She's never tired of talking about that rescue on the river." + +Dan thoroughly enjoyed the drive as he nestled by the parson's side. It +was very strange to be speeding along in such a luxurious manner, with a +horse travelling like the wind, and a big jolly man holding the reins. He +said nothing, but kept his eye fixed upon Midnight, his admiration +steadily increasing. He would like to own a horse like that, and down in +his heart he determined to have one some day--his very own. + +"What do you think of Midnight, lad?" asked the parson, noticing Dan's +admiring gaze. + +"Great!" was the reply. + +"Wish to have one like her, eh?" + +"Y'bet." + +"You will some day, boy; you will. But get a good one or none at all, and +here's a safe rule: + + "Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, + Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostrils wide, + High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong. + Thin, mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide. + +"Now the man who said that, knew what he was talking about." + +"What's his name?" asked Dan. "Does he live here?" + +"Ho, ho!" and the parson's hearty laugh rang out over the snow. "'Does he +live here?' I'm afraid not. Very few in Glendow know old Will Shakespeare, +more's the pity." + +"I should like to meet him, though," remarked Dan. "He must know a lot +about horses." + +"Ay, ay, lad, he knows a lot about most things, and you shall know him +some day, Dan, when you get older. But here we are right at home. We've +made great time." + +After Midnight had been carefully stabled and fed, Parson John led his +little charge into the Rectory. Scarcely had they crossed the threshold +into a brightly-lighted room ere the sound of a sweet voice humming an old +familiar tune fell gently upon their ears. Then a heavy tapestry curtain +was drawn aside, and a slender girlish form stood before them. Beholding +the lad, she gave a start of surprise, while her face, of more than +ordinary beauty, flushed with pleasure. + +"Ha, ha, Nellie," laughed her father, giving her an affectionate kiss, "I +have captured your young hero at last, and I'm glad you recognize him. +He's to live with us, to be your honourable bodyguard, your Fidus Achates, +in fact." + +What a picture this venerable man presented as he stood there. Wrapped in +a great-coat, with fur mittens in his hands; a long grey beard sweeping +his breast; hair abundant and white, crowning a face of singular strength +and refinement, he seemed the very embodiment of health and hearty cheer. +No ascetic this, but a man in whose veins flowed the fire of youth, and +whose eyes twinkled with quiet, honest laughter as they looked into his +daughter's puzzled face. + +"I don't exactly understand," Nellie remarked, glancing first at her +father and then at Dan. + +"No, I know you don't, dear, but I'll tell you all about it later. It's +enough now to know that I found him, and we are to give him a home here. +So if you'll let us have something to eat, we'll be very glad, won't we, +laddie?" + +Dan stood as if in a dream during this conversation. His eyes remained +fixed upon Nellie's face. Could it be possible that this was the woman he +had rescued, and who had spoken so kindly to him? It was the same, there +could be no mistake, only now she seemed more beautiful than ever. He felt +her soft hand pressing his rough, brown one, and heard her hearty welcome. +Words would not come to his lips. He was like a dumb person. But his eyes +noted much, especially the dining-room, with the table spread, the white +cloth and wonderful dishes. He had never seen anything like them before. + +And good reason was there for Dan's wonder. Others too would have looked +with admiration upon that scene had they been present. Everything in the +room bespoke Nellie's gentle care, from the spotless table-linen to the +well-polished, old-fashioned sideboard, a relic of the stirring Loyalist +days. Several portraits of distinguished divines adorned the walls, while +here and there nature scenes, done in water-colours, by whose hand it was +easy to guess, were artistically arranged. + +Nellie's devotion to her father was beautiful to behold. Her eyes sparkled +with delight as he related several amusing incidents of his visit to a +sick parishioner in an outlying district. + +"And how did you find Mr. Stickles?" she inquired. + +"'Simply joggin', parson, simply joggin,'" came the reply, at which the +fair hostess laughed heartily. + +"And I suppose Mrs. Stickles is as jolly as ever?" + +"Oh, yes. She is just the same. Poor soul! she has her hands full with her +sick husband, and a houseful of little ones. Yet she keeps remarkably +bright and cheerful. She was much concerned about my welfare, and while +she sent Sammy to look after Midnight she bustled around to make me as +comfortable as possible." + +"'Poor dear man,' she said, 'ye ain't as young as ye used to be, an' I +often say to John that the work's tellin' on ye. Ye've got too large a +circus, parson, too large a circus.'" + +"Dear soul," laughed Nellie. "There isn't a more real person in Glendow +than Mrs. Stickles. She's a friend to everyone, and knows everybody's +business for miles around." + +"Indeed, she does," replied her father. "It was she who told me about our +young friend here, and I started off post-haste to capture him. So we have +to thank Mrs. Stickles for it all." + +Supper ended, Parson John and Dan went into the study, while Nellie +cleared away the dishes. A bright fire burned in the large fire-place, +giving the room a most genial appearance. The parson brought down a long +church-warden pipe, filled and lighted it. Next he drew up a comfortable +chair and proceeded to read his mail which had arrived during his absence. +Dan, in the meantime, had taken up his position in a cosy-corner nearby. A +large picture-book had been given to him, and eagerly his eyes wandered +over the wonderful things he found therein. After a while he closed the +book and leaned back against the cushions. How comfortable it was. What +luxury! He had never experienced anything like it in his life. It seemed +like a dream. He watched Parson John for a time as he read his letters and +papers. Then he looked about the room, admiring the many things he there +beheld. Gradually his eyes closed. He forgot his surroundings, and was +soon fast asleep, far away in dreamland. + +When Nellie had finished with the dishes, she came into the study, and, +seeing Dan, she paused to look upon him. Then she crossed to where her +father was sitting, and touched him gently on the shoulder and pointed to +the sleeping lad. Together they watched him and in their hearts there +welled up a deep love for the orphan boy. + +"Poor little fellow," remarked Nellie, in a low voice, taking a seat by +her father's side. "I am so glad he is with us to-night. He seemed to be +tired out." + +"Yes, dear," her father replied, laying down the paper. "We are fortunate +in getting him. I wanted a boy for some time. I understand he has a fine +character." + +"And you said that Mrs. Stickles told you about him?" + +"Yes. And what she said was quite true. I found Dan living with the Tragen +family. Mr. Tragen has seven children of his own, and could not very well +keep another for any length of time. He told me that the day of the +funeral he went to the Flitter house, and found Dan all alone, lying on +his father's bed, weeping as if his heart would break. With difficulty he +had persuaded him to leave and go with him. That was over a week ago and +Dan has been with him ever since. Mrs. Tragen, worthy woman that she is, +took good care of him and treated him like one of her own. Truly the Lord +will reward her. By the way, she told me an interesting thing about the +boy." + +"What is it?" questioned Nellie. + +"It seems he has never been at school, and cannot read or write. He is +very anxious to learn, and his father, before his death, was giving him +some lessons. We must see that he has every chance to learn while with +us." + +"But, father, there's no school in the district this winter, a most +unusual thing." + +"Why not teach him at home, dearie?" and the parson looked into his +daughter's face. "Why not have a school here? We can give him a start +anyway, and he will not be too far behind the rest when next the public +school opens." + +"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed Nellie, "and may I be the teacher? +I always wanted to do something in that line, and may we begin to-morrow?" + +"Any time you like, dearie, and may God bless you, child, for your +interest in the boy. You remind me more and more of your dear mother." + +"And why should I not take an interest in him, father? He saved my life, +and, though I can never repay him, I should like to feel that I am doing +something. You know I read to Nora whenever I can, but this need not +interfere with that. And, oh, father, Stephen was here this afternoon, and +he's in great trouble." + +"What's wrong, dearie?" questioned the parson, as Nellie paused and a deep +flush suffused her face. + +"The Frenelle homestead is to be sold." + +"What! do I understand you aright? Peter Frenelle's farm, that fine +property which he left free of debt when he died?" + +"Yes, it's only too true. You know there has been a heavy mortgage on it +for several years, and as the interest has not been paid for some time the +mortgage has been foreclosed, and the place is to be sold." + +"Dear me, dear me," and the parson leaned back in his chair and closed his +eyes, as he always did when in deep thought. "It's bad management, that's +what it is. Stephen has had a splendid start, and through carelessness he +has let everything go to ruin." + +"Father, don't blame Stephen too much. He's only young, and had a great +responsibility placed upon his shoulders after his father's death." + +"Blame him! Blame him! Why should I blame anyone?" and the parson placed +his hand to his forehead. "Stephen is as dear to me as my own son--and I +love him. But, oh, it is hard to see my old friend's farm go to others. I +have talked with Stephen time and time again. But he has not taken the +right grip of life. Poor Mrs. Frenelle, her heart must be broken. And +Nora, that dear invalid girl, how hard for her." + +Nellie made no reply to her father's words. She sat looking into the fire. +Tears were in her eyes and her heart was heavy. Everything had seemed so +bright but a short time before, and now this dark cloud had arisen. Oh, if +Stephen would only bestir himself. They had known each other from +childhood. He had always been her hero. As a child her day-dreams and +fancies were woven about him. And as years advanced their love for each +other had increased. It was the natural blending of two souls which had +gradually and silently grown together in the bright sunshine of happy +youth. + +A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. At once she +arose to ascertain its meaning, and shortly returned. + +"Father," she said, "Billy Fletcher is very sick, and wishes to see you." + +"Who brought word, my dear?" + +"Hugh Peters. He called to see the old man as he was coming down the road, +and found him quite ill." + +The effect of this message was quite magical. No longer was Parson John +the quiet fireside reader, but the true sympathetic pastor. He laid aside +his pipe, and at once arose from his comfortable chair. An expression of +loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his +storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of +remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until +the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to +the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times +to administer the Holy Communion. + +Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was +cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small +lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on +his mission of love. + + + + +Chapter IV + +The Warder of the Night + + +After her father's departure, Nellie sat before the fire engaged upon some +needlework. Occasionally her hands rested in her lap, while she gazed +thoughtfully into the bright blaze. The soft light from the shaded lamp +fell athwart her wealth of dark-brown hair and fair face. Her long lashes +drooped as she leaned back in an easy-chair, and let her mind wander to +the days when she and Stephen played together as happy children. What +bright dreams were theirs, and how many fairy palaces they erected in the +far unknown future. + +A movement in the cosy-corner roused her from her reverie. She glanced +quickly in that direction and saw Dan sitting bolt upright, gazing +intently upon her. Nellie smiled as she saw his look of wonder mingled +with embarrassment. + +"Have you had a nice sleep?" she asked. + +"Guess so," came the slow reply. "I dreamed that you and my father were +right by my side, but when I woke he was gone and only you are with me." + +"I hope you will like it here," Nellie remarked, hardly knowing what to +say. "We want to make you happy, and love you just like our own little +boy." + +"I'm almost a man now," and Dan straightened up his shoulders and proudly +threw back his head. "I can hunt and work. See how strong I am," and he +placed his right hand upon the muscle of his doubled-up left arm. + +"Some day you will be as big as my father, won't you?" replied Nellie, +much amused at the sturdy lad. + +"Was that your father who brought me here?" + +"Yes." + +"And what's his name?" + +"Mr. Westmore. But most people call him 'Parson John.' You'll call him +that, too, won't you? He likes it better." + +"Yes; if you want me to, I will. But, say, what's your name?" + +"Oh, mine's just Nellie, Nellie Westmore. Not very pretty, is it?" + +"I think it is. Do you know that was my mother's name--Nellie, I mean, not +the other one." + +"And do you remember your mother, Dan?" + +"Only a little. She was good and pretty, just like you." + +"Tell me about her, will you? I should like to hear." + +And there in the quietness of that room Dan's tongue was unloosed, and in +his own simple way he told about his mother, her death, and how he and his +father had lived together in the little log shanty. Half an hour passed in +this quiet talk, and when at length Dan ceased Nellie glanced at the +clock. + +"Why, I didn't think it was so late! It is time you were in bed. You must +be tired. Come, I will show you where you are to sleep to-night, and +to-morrow we will fix up a room for your very own." + +Going to the kitchen Nellie lighted a small lamp, and with this in her +hand she and Dan went up the small winding stairway. + +"This is the place," and she opened a door leading to a room at the north +of the house. "The pipe from the hall stove comes up there, so it's always +quite warm. I do hope you will sleep well." + +She went to the window to draw down the blind and as she did so a light +fell upon her eyes which gave her a distinct start. It was not from the +moon, for the night was dark, but from a burning building, a short +distance up the road. The flames were leaping and curling through the +roof, sending up blazing cinders in every direction. + +Nellie's heart almost stopped beating as she gazed upon the scene. It was +Billy Fletcher's house! and what of her father? Was he amidst those +flames, or had he escaped? + +"Dan, Dan!" she cried, turning to the lad, "Come, quick! I'm afraid that +something terrible has happened! Get on your coat and cap as quickly as +possible and let's make haste!" + +It did not take them long to throw on their wraps, and to hurry forth into +the night. + +To Nellie the distance seemed never-ending. Would they ever reach the +house? How the road had lengthened! and her breath came hard and fast as +she staggered forward, trying to keep pace with the more hardy lad. The +light of the fire illumined the road for some distance around, and guided +their steps. Drawing near they could discover no one about the place. What +did it all mean? Here Nellie paused and with wildly beating heart looked +at the seething mass before her, and listened to the roar of the flames as +they sent up their wild flamboyant tongues into the air. Had her father +been entrapped in that terrible furnace? She glanced towards a barn on her +right and as she did so her eyes fell upon a sight never to be forgotten. +Someone was there, kneeling in the snow with bent head gazing intently +upon some object before him. It was her father! and with a cry of joy +Nellie rushed forward. She found he was kneeling by Billy Fletcher's side, +supporting his head, and carefully wrapping around him his own great-coat. +He looked up and an expression of relief came into his face as he saw his +daughter standing there. + +"I am so glad you have come," he exclaimed. "Poor Billy's in a bad way. We +need help. He must be taken to some house. I wish you would hurry up the +road for assistance. Dan will go with you. Get his nephew Tom as quickly +as possible." + +Waiting to hear no more, Nellie, fatigued though she was, started at once +for assistance, Dan following close behind. They had gone only a short +distance, however, when they met Tom himself running along the road. + +"What's wrong?" he gasped. + +"Don't you see?" Nellie replied. "The house is burning down." + +"And Uncle Billy; is he safe?" + +"Yes, he's safe, but almost dead." + +"And the box, what about it?" + +"What box?" + +"The money box; the iron one, where he keeps his papers and gold." + +"I know nothing about the box," replied Nellie, while a feeling of great +repugnance welled up within her at the heartlessness of the man. He cared +little for his uncle, the feeble old body, but only for what he possessed. + +By this time they had reached the place where the sick man was lying. + +"Is he living?" shouted his nephew. + +"Yes," replied the parson, "though I doubt if he can last long. We must +get him away to your house as soon as possible." + +"But the box, Parson; did you save it?" questioned Tom. + +"No, I never thought about it, and, besides, I did not know where it was." + +At this Billy opened his faded eyes, and fixed them upon his nephew's +face. He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and his words were +unintelligible. + +"Where's the box?" shouted Tom. + +Again the old man endeavoured to say something. Failing in this he made an +effort to rise. The struggle was too much for him, and with a cry he sank +back upon the snow, dead. + +By this time several neighbours had arrived, and stood near with a look of +awe upon their rugged faces. Nellie drew her father aside, knowing full +well that his care was needed no longer. + +"Come," she said, "we had better go home, These men will do the rest. You +have done your part." + +He followed her along the little path leading to the main road. Reaching +this she took him by the arm and supported his steps, which were now +over-feeble. Slowly and feelingly, he told the story of the night. He had +found the old man in a bad condition, and cold from the lack of a good +fire. Filling the stove with a liberal supply of wood, and making Billy as +comfortable as the circumstances would permit, he had sat down to watch +his charge. Ere long the sick man grew much worse. Then the chimney had +caught fire. The bricks must have been loose somewhere, which allowed the +flames to pour through into the dry woodwork overhead, which was soon +converted into a blazing mass. Seeing that nothing could be done to save +the building Mr. Westmore was forced to carry Billy, sick though he was, +out of the house. He tried to reach the barn, but his strength failed, so +he was forced to lay his burden upon the snow, and wrap his great-coat +around the helpless man. + +"Poor Billy! poor Billy!" said the parson in conclusion. "He was careless +about higher things. I hope the good Lord will not judge him too harshly." + +"But he was not always like that, father," Nellie remarked. + +"No, no, thank God. He had a happy home when I first came to this parish, +long before you were born. I have often told you about the sweet, +God-fearing wife he had then. But after she was laid to rest a great +change took place in Billy's life. He became very rebellious and never +darkened the church door. He acquired a great passion for money, and grew +to be most miserly. As the years passed his harshness increased. He waxed +sullen and disagreeable. His neighbours shunned him and he looked upon +them all with a suspicious eye. His money he never placed in a bank, but +kept it in his house in gold coin, in a strong, iron box, so I have been +told, and would count it over and over again with feverish delight." + +"But, father," remonstrated Nellie, "there must have been something good +in poor old Billy. You know how fond he was of Tony Stickles." + +"True, very true, dear. I have often wondered about the affection between +the two. No one else could live with the old man, except Tony, and he +served him like a faithful dog. It is generally believed that Billy +confided many things to Tony. He is a peculiar lad, and people have tried +in vain to find out what he knew. He will certainly feel badly when he +comes out of the woods, where he is now working, and hears about Billy's +death. But here we are at home. Oh dear, the journey has greatly tired +me," and the parson panted heavily as he entered the house. + +During the homeward walk Dan trudged along close by Nellie's side, busy +with his own thoughts. He longed for something to happen that he might +show her what a man he was. If a robber or a wolf, or some frightful +monster, would spring out from the roadside, he would meet it +single-handed, kill or drive it away. Then to behold the look of +gratitude and admiration upon the woman's face as she looked at him, what +bliss that would be! Little did the father and daughter realize, as they +slowly walked and conversed, what thoughts and feelings were thrilling +the little lad by their side, feelings which in all ages have electrified +clods of humanity into heroes, and illuminated life's dull commonplaces +with the golden romance of chivalry. + + + + +Chapter V + +The Breath of Slander + + +"When a man dies he kicks the dust." Thus pithily wrote Henry Thoreau, the +quaint philosopher, in his little shack by the beautiful Walden pool. The +truth of this saying was certainly verified in old Billy Fletcher's death, +and the people of Glendow were destined to see the dust stirred by his +departure, rise in a dense cloud and centre around the venerable parson of +Glendow. + +The day after the fire was clear and fine. Not a breath of wind stirred +the crisp air, and the sun-kissed snow lying smooth and white over all the +land sparkled like millions of diamonds. + +Near the window in her little cottage, not far from the Rectory, sat Mrs. +Larkins, busily knitting. She was a woman of superior qualities and had +seen better days. Her toil-worn hands and care-marked face could not +disguise the gentle, refined spirit within, which expressed itself in her +every word and action. Two little graves in the Churchyard, lying side by +side, and marked by a small cross of white marble, told how the silent +messenger had entered that home. Often the husband and wife were seen +standing by those little mounds, while tears coursed down their rugged, +honest cheeks. + +"No father could have been kinder than Parson John," she had frequently +remarked when speaking about their loss, "and no sister more sympathetic +than dear Nellie. They loved our little ones as if they were their very +own. On that bright summer day when we laid our lambs to rest the parson's +voice faltered as he read the Burial Service, and tears glistened in his +eyes." + +Since then whatever happened of joy or sorrow at the Rectory was of the +deepest interest to the lonely two over the way. So on this bright +afternoon as Mrs. Larkins sat by the window her thoughts were busy with +the events of the past night. + +A knock upon the door broke her reverie. Opening it, what was her surprise +to find there a woman, with an old-fashioned shawl about her shoulders, +and a bright, jolly face peering forth from a capacious grey hood. + +"Mrs. Stickles!" she exclaimed. "Is it really you? Why, I haven't seen you +for such a long time! Come in at once, and lay off your wraps, while I +make you a cup of tea, for you must be chilled through and through." + +"Indeed, I am," Mrs. Stickles replied, bustling into the room, and untying +her hood. "Sammy hed to bring the old mare to the blacksmith shop to git +shod, an' John, my man, sez to me, 'Mother,' sez he, 'ye jist put on yer +duds, an' go along, too. It'll do ye a world o' good.' I hated to leave +John, poor soul, he's so poorly. But I couldn't resist the temptation, an' +so I come. My, that's good tea!" she ejaculated, leaning back in a big, +cosy chair. "Ain't that tumble about old Billy Fletcher, an' him sich a +man!" + +"You've heard about his death, then?" Mrs. Larkins replied. + +"Should think I hed. We stopped fer a minute at the store. I wanted to git +some calicer fer the girls, an' while I was thar I heerd Tom Flinders an' +Pete Robie talkin' about it. Why, it was awful! An' to think the dear old +parson was thar all alone! When Pete told me that I jist held up me hands +in horror. 'Him thar with that dyin' man!' sez I. 'Jist think of it!' + +"'I guess he didn't mind it,' sez Si Farrington, who was awaitin' upon me. +'He likes jobs of that nater.' I don't know what in the world he meant. I +s'pose ye've heerd all about it, Mrs. Larkins?" + +"Yes," came the somewhat slow reply. "I've heard too much." + +"Ye don't say so now!" and Mrs. Stickles laid down her cup, and brought +forth the knitting which she had with her. "Anything serious?" + +"Well, you can judge for yourself. John helped to carry Billy to his +nephew's house, and then assisted the others in putting out the fire. But +search as they might they could not find the box." + +"Ye don't say so! Well, I declare." + +"No, they searched every portion of the rubbish, ashes and all, but could +find no trace of it. That's what's troubling me. I do hope they will find +it for the parson's sake." + +"Indeed! Ye surprise me," and Mrs. Stickles laid down her knitting. "Wot +the parson has to do with that box is more'n I kin understand." + +"No, perhaps you don't. But you see after the men had made a thorough +search and could not find the box, Tom Fletcher became much excited. He +swore like a trooper, declared that there had been foul play, and hinted +that the parson had something to do with it. You know that the Fletchers +have been waiting a long time for Billy to die in order to get his gold, +property and--" + +"Yes, yes, I know Tom Fletcher," broke in Mrs. Stickles. "Don't I know +'im, an' wot a mean sneak he is. He's suspicious of everybody, an' is +always lookin' fer trouble. An' as to meanness, why he hasn't a heart as +big as the smallest chicken. Ye could take a thousand hearts sich as his'n +an' stick 'em all to the wall with one tiny pin, an' then they wouldn't be +half way up to the head. Mean! Why didn't he once put a twenty-five cent +piece inter the kerlection plate by mistake, an' come back the next day to +git it, an' gave a cent in its place. If that ain't mean I'd like to know +whar ye'd find it," and Mrs. Stickles sniffed contemptuously as her +needles whirled and rattled between her nimble fingers. + +"Yes," Mrs. Larkins replied, "he carries his meanness into everything. If +he even imagines that it was the parson's fault that the house burned +down, and the will was destroyed, his anger will burn like fire. He's very +revengeful, too, and has an old grudge to pay back. The parson, you know, +was the means of making him close up his liquor business some years ago, +and he has been waiting ever since for a chance to hit back. I tell you +this, Mrs. Stickles, that a man who tries to do his duty is bound to stir +up opposition, and sometimes I wonder why such a good man should have to +bear with vindictive enemies. I suppose it's for some purpose." + +"Indeed it is, Mrs. Larkins. Indeed it is," and Mrs. Stickles' needles +clicked faster than ever. "It was only last night I was talkin' to my man +John about this very thing. 'John,' sez I, 'd'ye remember them two apple +trees in the orchard down by the fence?' + +"'Well,' sez he. + +"'An' ye recollect,' sez I, 'how one was loaded down with apples, while +t'other had nuthin' but leaves?' + +"I remember," sez he. + +"'Well, then,' sez I, 'One was pelted with sticks an' stones all summer, +an' even hed some of its branches broken, while t'other was not teched. +Why was that? + +"'Cause it hed plenty of good fruit on it,' sez he. + +"'Jist so,' sez I. 'Cause it hed good fruit. An' that's why so often the +Lord's good people er pelted with vile words cause they're loaded down +with good deeds. If they never did nuthin' the devil 'ud leave 'em alone, +but jist 'cause they bear good fruit is the reason they're pelted.' John +reckoned I was right, an' he's got a purty level head, if I do say it." + +"I only hope most of the people in the parish will stand by the parson," +replied Mrs. Larkins. "I know some will, but there are others who are +easily led, and Tom Fletcher's got a sharp tongue." + +"Why wouldn't they stan' by 'im, Mrs. Larkins? Wot hev they agin 'im? Tell +me that." + +Mrs. Larkins did not answer for a while, but sat gazing out of the window +as if she did not hear the remark. + +"I'm thinking of the parson's son, Philip," Mrs. Larkins at length +replied. "You know about him, of course?" + +"Sartin' I do. I've knowed Phillie sense he was a baby, an' held 'im in me +arms, too. He was a sweet lamb, that's wot he was. I understan' he's a +minin' ingineer out in British Columbia, an' doin' fine from the last +account I heerd." + +"That was some time ago, Mrs. Stickles, was it not?" + +"I believe it was last summer." + +"Well, it seems that Philip's in trouble." + +"Lan' sake, ye don't tell me!" and Mrs. Stickles dropped her knitting and +held up her hands in horror. "I was afeered of it, Mrs. Larkins. It's no +place fer man or beast out thar. Hev the Injins hurt 'im, or the bears +clawed 'im? I understan' they're thick as flies in summer." + +"Oh, no, not that," replied Mrs. Larkins. "You see over a year ago Philip +invested in some mining property out there, and the prospects looked so +bright that he induced his father to join him in the enterprise. Though +the parson's salary has always been small, with strict economy he had laid +something by each year for his old age. The whole of this he gave to +Philip to be invested. For a time things looked very bright and it seemed +as if the mines would produce handsome profits. Unfortunately several +claimants for the property suddenly turned up, with the result that the +whole affair is now in litigation. The case is to be decided in a few +months, and should it go against Philip he and his father will be ruined. +Philip manages the matter, and the parson advances what money he can +scrape together. Just lately the whole affair has leaked out, and some +people, knowing how the parson needs money, may not be slow to impute to +him things of which he is entirely ignorant." + +Mrs. Stickles was about to speak, when a jingle of bells sounded outside. +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed, "Sammy's back already!" With that, she +rose to her feet, and the conversation ended. + +The church was crowded the day old Billy was buried, for a funeral in +Glendow was always an important event. Parson John was clad in his simple +robes of office and read the Burial Service in a resonant, well-modulated +voice. Beholding such nobleness, gentleness and dignity of his face and +bearing, only the most suspicious could associate him with any underhanded +dealing. What connection had such a man with the base things of life? +Mounting the pulpit, he gave a short, impressive address. There was no +sentiment, or flowery language. He glossed nothing over, but in a few +words sketched Billy Fletcher's life, and pointed him out as a warning to +those who become careless and indifferent to higher things. + +"The parson talked mighty plain to-day," said one man in a low voice to +another, as they wended their way to the graveyard. "He didn't put poor +Billy in Heaven, that's certain, and perhaps he's right. I guess he hit +the Fletchers pretty hard." + +"Oh, yes," the other replied. "The parson got his say from the pulpit, hut +the Fletchers will have theirs later." + +"Why, what have they to say?" + +"Oh, you'll see." + +"About that box?" + +"Yes." + +"Tut, tut, man. Why, they haven't a leg to stand on in that matter." + +"But they'll make legs. Surely you know Tom Fletcher by this time. He'll +stop at nothing when once he gets started, and though he may not be able +to do anything definitely, he'll do a lot of talking, and talk tells in +Glendow, mark my word." + +And this proved only too true. Talk did begin to tell both in the homes +and at the stores. One man, who had met the parson on a hurried trip to +the city, declared that he was driving like mad, and hardly spoke in +passing. Another related that when Tom Fletcher asked Billy about the box, +the dying man pointed to the parson, and tried to speak. Though some of +the more sensible scoffed at such stories as ridiculous, it made little +difference, for they passed from mouth to mouth, increasing in interest +and importance according to the imagination of the narrator. + +Although this slander with malignant breath was spreading through the +parish, it did not for a time reach the Rectory. All unconscious of +impending trouble, father and daughter lived their quiet life happy in +each other's company. + + + + +Chapter VI + +The Auction + + +The day of the auction of the Frenelle homestead dawned mild and clear. + +"Don't give Dan too many lessons," laughed Parson John, as he kissed his +daughter good-bye and tucked in the robes about his feet. + +"No fear, father," was the laughing reply. "Perhaps he will turn the +tables upon me. He knows so much about the woods, wild animals and birds +that I like to learn from him." + +Midnight strode along the road, glad of the run in the fresh air. The +sleigh bells sent forth their sweet music, echoing and re-echoing from the +neighbouring hills and forest. Everything spoke of peace, and in Parson +John's heart dwelt a deeper peace, as he guided Midnight through the +gateway and reined her up before the Frenelle door. + +Though he was somewhat early, others were earlier still, and a group of +men, hardy sons of toil, were standing near the house engaged in earnest +conversation. They had come a long distance, for an auction such as this +was a most unusual occurrence in Glendow. The Frenelle homestead had +belonged to the family from the early Loyalist days, descending from +father to son for several generations. Each had contributed something to +the improvement of the land, but it remained for Peter Frenelle, Stephen's +father, to bring it under an excellent state of cultivation. A +clear-headed, hard-working man, he had brought his scientific knowledge, +acquired by careful study, to bear upon the soil, until his broad, rich +acres, free from stone, became the envy and admiration of the parish. + +One quiet evening he was strolling around the farm with Parson John, his +firm and faithful counsellor from childhood. Looking across the fields of +waving grain, and down upon the long straight rows of corn, standing +golden in the setting sun, he paused in his walk, and remained for some +time in deep thought. "John," he at length remarked, placing his hand +affectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "the Lord has been very good +to me all of these years. He has blessed me in house and field; He has +given me health and strength, and now in my latter days peace and light at +eventide." + +His companion was not surprised at these words, for often before had Mr. +Frenelle talked in this manner. But early the next morning when he was +summoned to his friend's bedside, to receive his final message, and to +hold the hand outstretched to him till it was still and cold, the solemn +utterance of the previous evening came forcibly to his mind. + +For several years after her husband's sudden death, Mrs. Frenelle managed +the farm and exhibited remarkable skill in directing the various hired +labourers. + +But as Stephen, her only son, advanced to manhood she relinquished the +responsibility and devoted her time almost entirely to her household +affairs. This change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. Stephen +disliked the drudgery of farm life and left the work to the hired men. So +long as he could draw upon his father's careful savings to pay the wages +and supply his own needs, he did not worry. The neighbours shook their +heads and prophesied trouble as they saw the land producing less each +year, and its acres, formerly rich with grain, covered with bushes. Parson +John reasoned and remonstrated, though all in vain. Stephen always +promised to do better, but in the end continued the same as before. At +last the awakening came, sudden and terrible. The bank account had been +overdrawn to a considerable extent, and payment was demanded. The only +thing to do was to mortgage the farm, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Frenelle +signed the pledge of death to the dear homestead. For a time Stephen tried +to settle down to steady work, but the old habit of carelessness was too +strong upon him, and ere long he drifted back to his former ways. The +interest on the mortgage remained unpaid. Foreclosure was the inevitable +result, and the farm was accordingly advertised for sale. + +At last the day of doom had arrived. + +Parson John found Mrs. Frenelle in the cosy sitting-room with her invalid +daughter, Nora. The latter was endeavouring to comfort her mother. The +girl's face, although worn with care and suffering, was sweet to look +upon. She was not what one would call pretty, but it was impossible to be +long in her presence without feeling the influence of her strong buoyant +disposition. The angel of pain had purged away much of the dross of her +nature, leaving the pure gold undimmed. She inherited, too, much of her +father's strength of character which seemed to be lacking in her brother. + +"What are we to do?" sobbed poor Mrs. Frenelle, as the parson entered the +room. "We will be driven from our dear old home, where we have spent so +many happy years! We will be penniless!" + +"Hush, mother dear," remonstrated her daughter. "Don't get so discouraged. +The place may bring more than will cover the mortgage. We will have that +to start with again, and in a few years we may be able to pay everything +off. Stephen may settle down to hard, steady work and all will be well." + +"Nora is right," replied the parson. "The purchaser, whoever he is, will +no doubt let you remain here, and give you a fair chance to redeem the +place. Our Glendow people, you know, have big hearts." + +"Oh, I wish I could see it in that light," and Mrs. Frenelle glanced at +the clergyman through her tears. "It is Mr. Farrington I fear. His mind is +set upon having this place. He has looked upon it with greedy eyes for a +number of years. He has only a little land in connection with his store, +and his wife is always complaining that they have not enough room. She has +said on several occasions that they would own this farm some day. Then, +you see, Farrington is a candidate for the next Councillor election. He +has large ambitions, and hopes eventually to run for the Local House. He +thinks a place such as this with its fine, old-fashioned house will give +him a certain standing which he now lacks. He wants to pose as a country +gentleman, and his wife wishes to have the house in which to entertain her +distinguished guests, who, as she imagines, will visit them. Oh, to think +of Mrs. Farrington living here!" and the poor woman buried her face in her +hands. + +"But perhaps someone else will outbid him," suggested Mr. Westmore. "I +would not lose heart yet." + +"There is no one in Glendow able to bid successfully against Mr. +Farrington," Nora replied. "We have learned, however, that Mr. Turpin, a +real estate man, arrived from the city last night. He wishes to buy the +place merely as a speculation, hoping to turn it over to some rich people +who wish to come to Canada to settle. But there is the bell!" and she +half-started from her invalid's chair, but sank back with a little cry at +the pain caused by the sudden movement. + +As the day was mild the auction took place in the open where the +auctioneer, surrounded by some two dozen men, was mounted on a large box. +At first the bidding was general and brisk. Gradually, however, it +dwindled down to three or four, and finally to Farrington and Turpin, the +real estate man. The former was standing a little apart from the rest, +with his eyes intent upon the auctioneer, and unable to repress the +eagerness which shone in his face. As the bidding advanced and drew near +the three thousand dollar mark, Turpin showed signs of weakening, while +his bids came slower and slower. Farrington, noticing this, could not +control his pleasure, and when he at length offered the round sum of three +thousand dollars Turpin gave up the struggle and, moving back a little, +perched himself upon a barrel, and seemed to take no interest in the +affair. + +A triumphant light gleamed in Farrington's eyes as he observed his +vanquished opponent. He glanced towards the house, and, seeing Mrs. +Frenelle standing in the doorway, his lips parted in a cruel smile. It was +that smile more than anything else which revealed the real nature of the +man. + +The breathless silence which for a time ensued at this crisis was broken +by the harsh cry of the auctioneer: + +"Three thousand dollars!" he called. "Going at three thousand dollars! Any +advance on three thousand dollars. Going at three thousand dollars. +Once--twice--third--and--" + +"Three thousand one hundred," came suddenly from Parson John. + +An earthquake shock could hardly have startled the men more than this bid +from such an unexpected quarter. + +Farrington's face reddened, and he moved a step nearer to be sure that he +had not been mistaken. + +"Did I hear aright?" he gasped. "Did the parson add one hundred to my +bid?" + +"Three thousand one hundred dollars from Parson Westmore," shouted the +auctioneer. "Any advance on three thousand one hundred dollars?" + +"Another hundred, then, damn it," and Farrington thrust his hands deeper +into his pockets, while his eyes gleamed with an angry light. + +"Three thousand five hundred," came the quiet response. + +Silence followed this last bid, which plainly proved that Farrington, too, +was weakening. He looked around as if uncertain what to do, and his eyes +rested upon Mrs. Frenelle. In her eagerness she had moved from the door, +and was standing near the group of men with her eyes fixed full upon the +clergyman. The expression upon her face was that of a drowning person, +who, when all hope has been abandoned, sees a rescuer suddenly at hand. It +was this look more than the half-suppressed laugh that passed among the +men, which caused him to fling another one hundred dollars at the +auctioneer. + +"Four thousand," again came strong and clear from Parson John without the +slightest hesitation. + +The auctioneer waited for Farrington to increase his bid. The men almost +held their breath in the excitement of the moment, and Mrs. Frenelle moved +a step nearer with her hands firmly clasped before her. + +"Four thousand dollars," the auctioneer spoke slowly and impressively now. +"Any--advance--on four thousand dollars? Going at four thousand dollars-- +Once--twice--third--and----last call----, and sold to Parson Westmore for +four thousand dollars." + +As these words fell from the speaker's lips a deep sigh broke the tense +feeling of the little company. They had been stirred more than was their +wont by the scene that they had just witnessed. These men knew but little +of the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms, the strife of modern nations, +the deeds of statesmen, and the affairs of the financial world. And yet in +the sale of this farm in an obscure country place the secret springs of +life, even though on a small scale, were laid bare. The pathos of a happy +home on the verge of destruction, with a loving mother and an invalid +child in danger of being cast out upon the cold world, and to see this +tragedy so narrowly averted through one staunch champion successfully +beating back pride and greed as represented in the person of Silas +Farrington--truly it was a miniature of the world's history, which may be +found in every town, village or home. + +"I trust you understand the conditions of the sale, sir," and the +auctioneer looked curiously at the clergyman, who was standing somewhat by +himself. "One-third of the amount down, and the balance in half-yearly +payments. I only mention this in case you may not know it." + +"I understand perfectly well," was the reply. "The _whole_ amount +shall be paid at once, and the matter settled without delay." + +"Guess the ministry must be a payin' job," sneered Farrington, "when a +poor country parson kin fork out four thousand dollars at one slap. I see +now why ye're allus dunnin' us fer money. Mebbe ye've got a hot sermon all +ready on the subject fer us next Sunday." + +Mr. Westmore looked intently at the man for an instant, and his lips +parted as if to reply. Instead, however, he turned without a word and +moved slowly towards the house. + +He reached Nora's side, and took her outstretched hand in his. Tears of +joy were in her eyes as she lifted them to her Rector's face, and +endeavoured to find adequate words in which to express her gratitude. + +"I know we are safe now!" she said. "But we never thought of you buying +the place! I cannot understand it at all. Four thousand dollars! What a +lot of money!" + +"No, my child, you cannot understand it now, but you will some day," and +as Mr. Westmore turned his face towards the window a tear might have been +detected stealing slowly down his furrowed cheek. + + + + +Chapter VII + +The Farringtons + + +Silas Farrington flung himself out of his sleigh and handed the reins to a +young man who had come forth from the store. + +"What are ye so slow about?" he snarled. "Here I've been callin' fer the +last five minutes. Why don't ye hustle when I call?" + +"I was running molasses," came the surly reply, "and how could I leave--" + +"There now, no back talk; I never allow it. Put up the horse, an' don't +spend all day about it, either." + +With these words Farrington made his way to the house, leaving the young +man inwardly cursing his unjust master. + +"Ye're late, Si," a voice exclaimed, as he opened the door and entered. +"We've been waitin' fer ye a full hour or more." + +"I couldn't help it," Farrington replied. "I was delayed." + +"An' how much did ye pay fer the farm, Si?" + +"Farm be--be--hanged! I'm sick of it." + +"But didn't ye git it, Si?" his wife persisted. + +"Git it? No!" + +"What!" + +"I said no!" + +"But who did, then?" + +"The parson." + +"What! Parson John?" + +"Certainly. Who else would be fool enough to interfere with me?" + +"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Farrington. "Do tell us about it, Si?" + +"No, not a word more about it," snapped her husband, "till we git down to +dinner. I'm most starved. Is it ready?" + +"Dear me, yes. I'd clean fergot about it," and Mrs. Farrington bustled off +to the kitchen. + +Everything in the dining-room betokened care and industry, from the +nicely-papered walls, adorned with pictures, to the large sideboard, with +its display of old china and glassware. The table-linen was spotlessly +clean, and the food served up was well cooked. But, notwithstanding this, +something seemed wrong. An indefinable atmosphere pervaded the place which +spoiled the effect of it all. It was not the corrupted English falling +from the lips of these people which grated so harshly upon the senses. It +was the spirit of pretence which overshadowed everything--the effort to be +what they were not. Had old Titbottom been there with his magic +spectacles, he would have beheld in Farrington little more than a roll of +bills; in his wife the very essence of pretence and ambition; while the +daughter Eudora and their son Dick would be labelled "exact samples" of +the parents. + +Farrington told of the auction in no measured terms. He was annoyed at the +unexpected outcome and did not try to conceal his anger. The inserted +exclamations of the family told their own tale. They were much +disappointed, especially Mrs. Farrington. + +"Only think!" she cried, when her husband had ended, "that the parson +above all men should interfere in this matter! Him that's allus talkin' +about lovin' our neighbours as ourselves, standin' a-tween us an' our +natral rights. I hev often told Eudora, heven't I, dear? that we need a +better place than this. Now, that Frenelle homestead is jist what we want, +an' it seemed as if the Lord intended we should hev it, too. It is so +included from all pryin' eyes, an' away from them country people who are +so uncongenial. Their manners are so rough an' they know so little about +proper equity. The parson knows very well that we are city bred, an' that +our descendants hev allus had good blood in their veins, an' that we try +to follow their Example by givin' a tone to the community ever sense we +came from the city. He knows what we are a-tryin' to do, an' yit he'll +serve us in this mean fashion." + +"I wonder where he got the spondulicks," broke in her son Richard. + +"Richard, Richard! you must not use sech a word as that," and Mrs. +Farrington cast a reproving glance at her son. "Ye must hev heerd it from +Tom Jones; ye know ye never hear it at home, fer we are allus very +pertickeler about our language." + +"Well, money, then, ma. I don't care what ye call it." + +"Oh, I guess that'll not be hard to account fer," replied Farrington with +a knowing laugh. "Tom Fletcher may be able to throw some light upon the +subject. It seems to me that the parson has come to the end of his rope. +We've borne with 'im fer years, an' it's about time he was makin' a move. +He's too old fer the ministry. We need a young man, with fire an' vim. +Anyway, the rest may do as they please, but as fer me not another cent do +I pay as long as he is in charge." + +"Ye've allus paid well, Si," remarked his wife, "an' the parson is not one +bit grateful." + +"Yes, I reckon I hev," and Farrington gulped down, his tea. "I used to +contribute heavily; eight dollars a year, an' a bag of oats at Christmas. +Now I give only four sense I've enlarged my bizness an' can't afford so +much. Besides, the parson doesn't deal with me as much as he should. He +gits too many of his supplies in the city. If he expects me to paternise +'im he must deal with me. I've told 'im so very plainly on several +occasions." + +"Ye certainly did yer part, Si," Mrs. Farrington replied. "If all in the +parish 'ud do as well there'd be no trouble. It is disgraceful that these +country people do not pay more to support the Church. It throws sich a +burden upon us. Only think of Mrs. Jimmy Brown buyin' a new Bristles +carpet, when the old one was quite good enough. An' her last year's hat +could hev been made over as well as not. But, no, it would not do. She had +to hev another, which cost quite a penny, so I understand." + +"An' Vivien Nelson's fur-lined coat, ma," chimed in Eudora, "I know it +didn't cost one cent less than seventy-five dollars!" + +"These country people are so extravagant, ye know," returned her mother. +"They are allus tryin' to imitate their sufferiors. To think of Vivien +Nelson, a farmer's daughter, hevin' a fur-lined coat which cost almost as +much as Eudora's! It is really disgraceful! I'm sure her father could give +more to the Church than he does, an' yit he'll let us hear the brunt of +the burden." + +"Guess he'll hev to bear mor'n ever now," replied her husband as he rose +from the table. "I'm done with the whole bizness, an' I'm mighty glad I +heven't paid fer the last year, an' don't intend to now." + +As Farrington passed out of the dining-room into the store, his clerk, a +young man new to the business, was serving a middle-aged woman at the +counter. + +"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sturgis," the former was saying, "but we are entirely out +of it just now. We can order it for you, though, and have it in a few +days." + +Farrington turned angrily upon his heel as these words fell upon his ears. + +"What does she want?" he demanded. + +"Number forty, white thread; but we're out of it." + +"You stupid blockhead, we're not out of it! We're never out! If you'd use +yer eyes half as much as yer tongue ye'd be all right." + +"But I can't find it. I've looked everywhere," and the clerk's eyes flashed +danger as he turned them upon his master. + +"Well, look again. Don't stand thar starin' like an ijut!" + +The young man did as he was commanded. He searched and rummaged, but all +in vain. + +"Oh, come out of that, an' let me thar," and Farrington shoved his way +past the clerk, and fumbled excitedly in the box. + +"Ah-yes-no-fifty-sixty-Well, I declare! Not thar! Confound it! Why didn't +ye tell me we were out before? Why did ye wait till the last spool was +gone afore sayin' a word about it?" + +"I've only been here a week," replied the clerk, "and how could I know you +were out. No one has called for number forty thread since I've been here." + +Farrington was beaten, and was forced to swallow his anger as best he +could. It was most aggravating to be thus humiliated in the presence of +this woman. He strode across the room, and stood with his back to the +stove, wondering how he could get even with his clerk. He would discharge +him. "No, that wouldn't do. It was hard to get a man to stay with him, and +this was a good worker. Anyway, he must be taught his place, and not +answer back. He would let him know that he owned the store. + +"Give me my mail, please." + +Farrington started, and turning, beheld a little lad standing by his side. + +"Mail! whose mail?" he demanded, glad of an excuse to give vent to his +anger. "What's yer name? I don't know anything about _my_ mail." + +"I want Parson John's mail," persisted the boy. "Don't you know him?" + +"Know 'im! Well, I guess! I know 'im too d--n well. But who are you, and +what do ye want with the parson's mail?" + +"Oh, I live with him now. I'm Dan, old Jim's boy. Didn't you know I was +there?" + +"Ha, ha, that's a good one! To think that I should know every brat who +comes to the place." + +"I'm not a brat! I'm almost a man," and Dan straightened himself up. "Give +me my mail, please; Parson John's waiting for it." + +"Let 'im wait. I'm not supposed to give out mail to all the riff-raff who +comes fer it. Why doesn't he come 'imself?" + +"He's busy." + +"Busy! busy! Yes, I s'pose he is busy, plannin' mischief; wonderin' what +to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. How much did he git? I s'pose he gave +you some to hold yer tongue." + +Farrington had no intention of uttering these last words, but his heart +was so full of anger that he hardly knew what he was saying. + +Dan's eyes flashed, and his little hands suddenly doubled at his side. He +did not comprehend the meaning of these words, but he felt that his +friend, the white-headed old man, was being insulted. With him to think +was to act, and many a boy larger than himself had felt the lightning +blows of those little tense knuckles. + +"What do ye mean?" he demanded, looking up into Farrington's face. + +"What do I mean? Well, if ye want to know, I mean that Parson John is a +rogue, an' that you are nuthin' but a young sucker, an impudent outcast, +spongin' fer yer livin' upon others." + +Hardly had the words left Farrington's lips, when, with a cry as of a wild +animal, Dan leaped full upon him, caught him by the hair with one hand, +and with the other rained blow after blow upon his face. + +With a howl of mingled pain and rage, Farrington endeavoured to free +himself from this human wild-cat. He struggled and fought, and at length +succeeded in tearing away that writhing, battering form. With one hand he +held him at arm's length and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Dan +struggled, squirmed and bit, but all in vain; he was held as in a vice. +Not satisfied with shaking the lad, Farrington reached over and, seizing a +broken barrel stave from the wood-box, brought it down over the lad's +shoulder and back with a resounding thud. A cry of pain, the first that he +had uttered, fell from Dan's lips, and with a mighty effort he tried to +escape. The stick was raised again. It was about to fall, when suddenly it +flew into the air, the grip of the boy relaxed, and Farrington staggered +back from a furious blow dealt him by the young clerk. Farrington tried to +recover, but each time he was hurled to the floor by the stalwart athlete +standing before him, his eyes blazing with anger. + +"Get up, you coward!" he cried, when at length Farrington remained +sprawling upon the floor. "Get up if you can, and dare!" + +"Curse you!" snarled the defeated man. "Ye'll pay fer this!" + +"We'll see about that later," calmly replied the clerk. "There's to be no +more bullying while I'm here, and I won't be here long, for I'm done with +you and your outfit." + +"Go, go at once, d--n you, or I'll kick ye out!" shouted Farrington. + +"Kick me out, if you can," came the reply. "Get up and do it," and the +young man laughed scornfully. "No, you know you can't. Now, look here; +just a word before we part. I've stood your insolent abuse for a week, +without retaliating. But when you laid hands upon that boy it was a +different matter." + +"But he flew at me like a wild-cat," Farrington growled. + +"Yes, and wouldn't anyone with a spark of life in him at all, after he had +been insulted by such a thing as you. You like to get a chap such as that +in your claws and torture him. You've done it before, I understand. But +it's not been such fun this time. No, no, the worm has turned at last. I'm +going now--so do what you like. I've no fear of such a thing as you." + +He turned, put on his heavy coat and left the building. As he did so Dan +slipped out ahead of him, and started up the road as fast as his little +feet would carry him. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +The Golden Key + + +"Why, Dan, what's the matter?" + +Nellie was sitting before the open fire busily engaged with her needle as +the lad entered the room. He stared at her for an instant, and then a +sheepish grin crossed his face. His clothes were torn, and his hair tossed +in the wildest confusion, while marks of blood spotted his cheeks. + +"What in the world have you been doing?" Nellie insisted. + +"Nuthin' much," came the slow reply, + +"Well, you don't look like it. Have you been fighting?" + +"Y'bet!" and Dan smacked his lips. "I swatted him good and hard, that's +what I did." + +"Did what?" + +"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair." + +"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't +understand. Sit down, and tell me about it." + +Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the +scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless +interest. + +"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you +sure?" + +"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad +name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his +throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and +sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had +always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the +road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a +forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoarse croak +of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he +doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he +alive? + +"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown +eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart. + +"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody +called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted +him." + +Nellie remained silent for a while, steadily working away at her sewing. + +"Dan," she said at length, "I want you to promise me something, will you?" + +"Y'bet. What is it?" + +"I want you to promise that you will say nothing about this to my father." + +"Why? Wouldn't he like to know how I punched that man?" + +"No, no. And besides I don't want him to know what has been said about +him. It's a cruel lie, and if father hears of it, it will worry him so +much. Will you keep the secret with me?" + +"Yes, if you want me to. I'll not say a word, but, oh, I think Parson John +would like to know how I punched him," and Dan gave a deep sigh at the +thought of losing such pleasure. + +"Thank you," Nellie replied. "I know I can trust you. Run away now, change +your clothes, and wash your face; then get the wood in, before father +comes home." + +Long and silently Nellie remained before the fire with her hands resting +upon her lap. Her brain was in a tumult, and her heart ached. What else +was being said about her father? To whom should she go for information? +She thought of Mrs. Larkins, but then she was over at the Hall getting +ready for a church sale to be given that very evening by the Ladies' Aid +Society. Stephen was coming for her early, as she was to have charge of +one of the fancy booths. Afterwards there was to be a quiet dance by the +young people, and she had promised Stephen that she would stay for a +while, and have her first dance with him. + +At length she aroused from her reverie and prepared her father's supper. +How weary he looked, she thought, as she sat and watched him, and listened +to his casual talk about his afternoon visit and the auction in the +morning. A feeling of resentment filled her heart as she recalled what +Farrington had said. To think that he should say such things about her +father, who was always so patient and loving; who was ever trying to help +others, no matter who they were. Tears came to her eyes at the thought. +Suddenly she rose, and going to where her father was sitting put her arms +around him, and gave him a loving kiss. + +"Ho, ho!" came the delighted exclamation. "What ails my little girl +to-night? What does she want now?" + +"I want you, daddy," she replied. "I want to love you more, and be more +help to you." + +"Help me more! What could you do more than you do now? There, run away and +get ready. I hear bells; Stephen must be coming, and I'm afraid you'll be +late. Dan and I will look after the dishes." + +That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler +tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was +truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as +they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and +strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for +the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and +maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were +their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life. + +Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest +conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around +and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the +room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down +by her side. + +"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you +would care to remain." + +"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins +replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie." + +"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience +troubles me." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, about my father." + +"Why, is he sick?" + +"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should +have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it +was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; +thinking about others all the time." + +"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind." + +"Yes, I know that. But he is feeling rather down-cast to-night after that +auction this morning. Some cruel things were said about him, and I always +know when he is in trouble, though he seldom complains." + +Nellie paused, and gazed for a time upon the group in the centre of the +room, as if intent on what was taking place there. Then her dark eyes, +filled with a questioning look, turned full upon Mrs. Larkins' face. + +"I am glad to be with you for a few moments," she whispered, "for I wish +to ask you something. I have only spoken of it to Vivien, for she is so +true and noble. Have you heard these stories about my father, Mrs. +Larkins?" + +"In connection with Billy Fletcher's gold?" was the reply. + +"Yes, yes, that is what I mean. Oh, it troubles me so much." + +"Yes, I have heard some of them, Nellie. But do not give yourself +unnecessary concern. Evil-minded people will talk. I said nothing to you, +hoping the matter would soon die down. Has your father heard anything?" + +"No, not yet, and I trust no one will tell him. He has enough worry now +without these. He has that trouble with the mine in British Columbia; +then, this morning's annoyance. Oh, he must not know what people are +saying!" + +"I have heard but little lately," Mrs. Larkins responded in an effort to +comfort her. "Let us trust that the talk will not amount to much." + +"But Vivien tells me that it is not so. Since the auction the stories have +started up again stronger than ever. People cannot understand where father +got so much money to pay for the farm. I don't even know myself, for +father never told me. Tom Fletcher and others are saying all sorts of +things. What shall we do?" + +Her bosom heaved as she uttered these words, which somewhat expressed the +agitated state of her mind. Before Mrs. Larkins could further reply, the +music struck up, and Stephen came for Nellie to claim her for the opening +dance. + +"How worthy," thought Mrs. Larkins as her eyes followed Nellie as she went +forward, "is she of a true man's love. What nobleness and strength of +character are there. But what of Stephen? If he would only get the right +grip. Such a face as his is surely meant for higher things than a life of +carelessness." + +She was aroused by Farrington, who had taken the seat by her side which +Nellie had recently vacated. + +"They're hevin' a good time," he began, nodding towards the dancers. +"Dick's in his element to-night." + +"Rhoda Gadsby makes him a good partner," replied Mrs. Larkins. + +"Only fair, Mrs. Larkins, only fair. She's not a bad girl, but no real +pardner fer my son Dick. I'm sorry her father is my opponent at the comin' +election. He'll never win, mark my word. Gadsby's too full of notions. He +wants to set the world on fire, an' has all kinds of new-fangled idees. He +will never do fer a Councillor-never. What Glendow wants is a real +practical man, one who understands human nater." + +"But Mr. Gadsby is a superior man," replied Mrs. Larkins. "He reads much, +and is trying to farm along scientific lines." + +"Tryin' to farm! Yes, yer right thar, Mrs. Larkins. But that's about as +fer as he's got. He has big idees, an' is allus talkin' about this parish +bein' behint the times." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, as regards the schools. They don't teach enough branches, sich as +botany, drawin' an' sich like. What do the childern of Glendow want with +botany stuck into their brains? Let 'em learn to read, write an' cipher. +Them things will pay. But as fer botany, who ever heerd of it helpin' a +man to manage a farm, or a woman to sew, cook or make butter? Now, look at +me, Mrs. Larkins. I never studied botany, an' behold my bizness. I don't +know a bit about botany, an' here I'm runnin' fer a Councillor, an' +lookin' forred to the Local House. No, no, this botany bizness is all +nonsense." + +"But," remonstrated Mrs. Larkins, "do you not enjoy the beautiful? Life +should be more than the mere grubbing through dust and heat, grinding out +our little day, wearing out the body and cramping up the soul in field, +factory, office or behind the counter. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and +whatever tends to enlarge our children's perspective, which will give them +a love for the beautiful, will lessen the drudgery of life, and develop +their characters. The Creator who made human beings in His own image, and +endowed them with powers above the brute creation, surely intended that +these divine faculties should be used and not allowed to lie dormant." + +Mrs. Larkins spoke more strongly than was her wont. She was naturally a +quiet woman. But this man's narrowness and ignorance nettled her. +Farrington, however, was not in the least affected by such words; in fact +he rather pitied anyone who did not see eye to eye with him. + +"What ye say, Mrs. Larkins," he replied, "is very fine in theory. But the +question is, 'Will it pay?' Fer them as likes sich things they may study +'em to their hearts' content. But what do sich people amount to? I seen +the parson once stand fer a long time watchin' the settin' sun, an' when I +axed 'im what he saw he looked at me sorter dazed like. 'Mr. Farrington,' +sez he, 'I saw wonderful things to-night, past man's understandin'. I've +been very near to God, an' beheld the trailin' clouds of His glory!' +'Parson,' sez I, 'What will ye take fer yer knowledge? How much is it +worth? While ye've been gazin' out thar at that sunset I've been gazin' at +these letters, an' I find I'm better off by twenty-five dollars by gittin' +my eggs an' butter to market day afore yesterday, jist when the prices had +riz. That's what comes of gazin' at facts sich as price lists an' knowin' +how to buy an' sell at the right time. That's of more value than lookin' +at all the flowers an' sunsets in the world!' The parson didn't say +nuthin', but jist looked at me, while the men in the store haw-hawed right +out an' told the joke all round. Xo, you may find music in ripplin' water, +an' poetry in flowers, an' sunsets, as Phil Gadsby and the parson sez, but +give me the poetry of a price list, an' the music of good solid coin upon +my counter. Them's the things which tell, an' them's the things we want +taught in our schools." + +Just as Farrington finished, cries of fright fell upon their ears. Turning +quickly towards the dancers Mrs. Larkins noticed that most of them had +fallen back in little groups, leaving Stephen Frenelle and Dick Farrington +alone in the middle of the room. The attitude of the two left no doubt as +to the cause of the disturbance. With clenched fists they faced each other +as if about to engage in a fierce struggle. The former's eyes glowed with +an intense light, while his strained, white face betokened the agitated +state of his feelings. + +"Say that again!" he hissed, looking straight at his opponent. "Say it if +you dare!" + +Dick stood irresolute with the look of fear blanching his face at sight of +the angry form before him. While he hesitated and all held their breath, +Nellie Westmore moved swiftly forward, and laid a timid hand upon +Stephen's arm. + +"Stephen, Stephen!" she pleaded. "Stop! don't go any further! Be a man! +Come, let us go home!" + +Quickly he turned and looked into her eyes, and at that look the pallor +fled his face, leaving it flushed and abashed. His clenched hands relaxed, +and without a word he followed her to the door. As they donned their wraps +and passed out into the night, sighs of relief at the termination of this +startling incident were plainly heard. Dick gave a sarcastic laugh, and +the dance continued as if nothing unusual had happened. + +For a while neither Nellie nor Stephen spoke as they sped along the road, +drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare. The night was clear, and the +crescent moon rose high in the heavens. Not a breath of wind stirred the +trees, and the only sound which broke the silence was the jingling bells +keeping time to the horse's nimble feet. + +"He called me a fool and a pauper!" Stephen at length exclaimed. "Did you +hear him?" + +"Certainly," came the reply. "How could any one help hearing him?" + +"I'd have knocked him down if it hadn't been for you, Nellie." + +"I'm glad you didn't, Stephen." + +"But I'll show him a thing or two. I'll get even with him yet. I'll teach +him to call me a fool and a pauper!" + +"Why not get more than even with him? You can do it without any trouble." + +Nellie spoke very impressively, and Stephen looked at her in surprise. + +"I know I can do that, for he's nothing but a clown. But what else can I +do?" + +"I didn't mean that, Stephen. That is only getting even with your opponent +in brute fashion. You will only be putting yourself on an equality with +him. You want to get more than even, not by hitting back and returning +abuse for abuse. No, not that way, but by rising above him in manhood." + +"How? In what way, Nellie?" + +"Settle down to steady work. Redeem your home. Show Dick and the people of +Glendow that you are not a fool or a pauper, but a man. Oh, Stephen, we +want to be proud of you--and I do, too." + +"Do you, Nellie, really?" + +"Indeed I do, Stephen." + +For an instant only their eyes met. For an instant there was silence. But +in that instant, that mere atom of time, there opened up to Stephen a new +meaning of life. A virile energy rent the old husk of indifference, and a +yearning, startling in its intensity, stabbed his heart, to "make good," +to recover lost ground and to do something of which Nellie should be +proud. + +It was love--the golden key which had at last opened to the young man the +mystic door of life's great responsibility. + + + + +Chapter IX + +Beating the Devil + + +"Father, I am becoming uneasy about Dan." + +Parson John and Nellie were walking slowly along the road from the neat +little parish church. It was a Sunday morning. Not a breath of wind +stirred the balmy and spring-like air. A recent thaw had removed much of +the snow, leaving the fields quite bare, the roads slippery, and the ice +on the river like one huge gleaming mirror. + +"Why, what do you mean?" asked the parson. "What makes you uneasy about +Dan?" + +"He has been so restless of late." + +"Doesn't he mind you?" + +"Oh, yes. He is always ready and anxious to do anything I ask him. But +there is a far-away look in his eyes, and sometimes he gives such a start +when I speak to him. His old life was so rough and stirring, that I fear +he misses it, and longs to be back there, again." + +"But he is interested in his studies, is he not?" + +"Yes, to a certain extent. But not as much as formerly. It is hard for him +to settle down to steady work. He seems to be thinking and dreaming of +something else. I cannot understand him at all. I love the lad, and +believe he is much attached to us." + +"What do you think we had better do?" + +"I hardly know, father. But you might take him with you sometimes on your +drives. He is passionately fond of Midnight, and it would liven him up. +Why not let him go with you to the funeral at Craig's Corner this +afternoon? He would be company for you, too." + +"But I'm not coming home until to-morrow. I expect to spend the night +there, and in the morning go overland to see the Stickles and take those +good things you have been making for the sick man. You will need Dan to +stay with you." + +"No, I shall be all right. Vivien Nelson has asked me to go there +to-night, so I shall get along nicely." + +"Very well, dear," her father replied. "You are just like your mother, +always planning for someone else, and planning so well, too." + +Dan's heart thrilled with pride and delight as he sat by Parson John's +side and watched Midnight swinging along at her usual steady jog when +there was no special hurry. So intent was the one upon watching the horse, +and the other upon his sermon, that neither noticed a man driving a +spirited horse dart out from behind a sharp point on the left, and cut +straight across the river. It was old Tim Fraser, as big a rogue as +existed anywhere in the land. He was very fond of horses, and that winter +had purchased a new flier. He was an incessant boaster, and one day swore +that he could out-travel anything on the river, Midnight included. He laid +a wager to that effect, which was taken up by Dave Morehouse, who imagined +the race would never come off, for Mr. Westmore would have nothing to do +with such sport. Old Fraser, therefore, set about to meet Parson John, but +for some time had failed to make connection. Hearing about the funeral, he +was determined that the race should come off that very Sunday, and in the +presence of the mourners and their friends at that. He accordingly hid +behind Break-Neck Point, and with delight watched the parson drive up the +river, and at the right moment he started forth for the fray. As Fraser +swung into line and was about to pass, Midnight gave a great bound +forward, and it was all that Parson John could do to hold her in check, +for she danced and strained at the reins as her rival sped on ahead. At +length Fraser slowed down, dropped behind, and, just when Midnight had +steadied down, up he clattered again. This he did three times in quick +succession, causing Midnight to quiver with excitement, and madly to champ +the bit. At length the climax was reached, for the noble beast, hearing +again the thud of her opponent's hoofs, became completely unmanageable. +With a snort of excitement she laid low her head, took the bit firmly +between her teeth, and started up the river like a whirlwind. The more +Parson John shouted and tugged at the reins the more determined she +became. The ice fairly flew from beneath her feet, and the trailing froth +flecked her black hide like driving snow. Neck and neck the horses raced +for some time, while Fraser grinned with delight at the success of his +scheme. + +Before long the funeral procession came into view, making for the little +church near the graveyard on the opposite shore. Parson John was feeling +most keenly the position in which he was so unfortunately placed. He could +see only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to leave Fraser +behind. Therefore, before the first sleigh of the funeral procession was +reached he gave Midnight the reins, and thus no longer restrained she drew +gradually away from her opponent. On she flew, past the staring, gaping +people, and for a mile beyond the church. + +By this time Fraser was so far in the rear that he gave up the race. +Beaten and crestfallen he turned to the left, made for the shore and +disappeared. + +At length Parson John was able to bring Midnight under control, when she +trotted quietly down the river with a triumphant gleam in her handsome +eyes. After the funeral had been conducted, a group at once surrounded the +parson and questioned him concerning the strange occurrence on the river. +Some were pleased with Fraser's ignominious defeat, and treated it as a +huge joke. But others were sorely scandalized. What would the members of +the other church in Glendow say when they heard of it? To think that their +clergyman should be racing on the river, and on a Sunday, too, while on +his way to attend a funeral--the most solemn of all occasions! + +"Well, you see," continued the parson, after he had explained the +circumstance, "Fraser is a hard man to deal with, and in some ways I am +really glad it happened as it did." + +"Why, what do you mean?" gasped several of the most rigid. + +"It's just this way," and a twinkle shone in the parson's eyes. "Five and +thirty years have I served in the sacred ministry of our Church. During +the whole of that time I have endeavoured to do my duty. I have faced the +devil on many occasions, and trust that in the encounters I did no +discredit to my calling. I have tried never to let him get ahead of me, +and I am very thankful he didn't do it this afternoon with Tim Fraser's +fast horse." + + * * * * * + +Parson John had won the day, and the group dispersed, chuckling with +delight, and anxious to pass on the yarn to others. + +That same evening Mr. Westmore was seated comfortably in Jim Rickhart's +cosy sitting-room. The family gathered around in anticipation of a +pleasant chat, for the rector was a good talker, and his visit was always +an occasion of considerable interest. A few neighbours had dropped in to +hear the news of the parish, and the latest tidings from the world at +large. They had not been seated long ere a loud rap sounded upon the door, +and when it was opened, a man encased in a heavy coat entered. + +"Is Parson John here?" were his first words. + +"Yes," Mr. Rickhart replied. "He's in the sitting-room. Do you want to see +him? Is it a wedding, Sam? You look excited." + +"Should say not. It's more like a funeral. Old Tim Fraser's met with a bad +accident." + +"What!" + +"Yes. He was drivin' home from the river this afternoon, when that new +horse of his shied, and then bolted. The sleigh gave a nasty slew on the +icy road, and upset. Tim was caught somehow, and dragged quite a piece. +He's badly broken up, and wants to see the parson." + +By this time Mr. Westmore had crossed the room, and stood before the +messenger. A startled look was in his eyes, as he peered keenly into Sam's +face. + +"Tell me, is it true what I hear," he questioned, "that Fraser has been +hurt?" + +"Yes, sir, and wants you at once." + +"Is he seriously injured?" + +"Can't tell. They're goin' fer the doctor, but it'll be some time before +he can get there. It's a long way." + +"Poor Fraser! Poor Fraser!" murmured the parson. "He was a careless man. I +was bitter at him this afternoon, and now he is lying there. Quick, Dan, +get on your coat and hat; we must be off at once." + +It did not take them long to make ready, and soon Midnight was speeding +through the darkness. This time it was no leisurely jog, but the pace she +well knew how to set when her master was forth on important business. +Across the river she sped, then over hill and valley, which echoed with +the merry jingle of the bells. For some time Parson John did not speak, +and seemed to be intent solely upon Midnight. + +"Dan," he remarked at length, as they wound slowly up a steep hill, "it's +a mean thing, isn't it, to get many, many good things from someone, and +never do anything in return, and not even to say 'Thank you?'" + +The lad started at these words, and but for the darkness a flush would +have been seen upon his face. "What does the parson mean?" he thought. +"That was about what Farrington said. To get, and give nothing in return; +to be a sucker and a sponger." + +But the parson needed no reply. He did not even notice Dan's silence. + +"Yes," he continued; "it's a mean thing. But that's just what Tim Fraser's +been doing all his life. The good Lord has given him so many blessings of +health, home, fine wife and children, and notwithstanding all these +blessings, he's been ever against Him. He curses and swears, laughs at +religion, and you saw what he did this afternoon." + +"'Tis mean, awful mean," Dan replied, as the parson paused, and flicked +the snow with his whip. "But maybe he's sorry, now, that he's hurt." + +"Maybe he is, Dan. But it's a mean thing to give the best of life to +Satan, and to give the dregs, the last few days, when the body is too weak +to do anything, to the Lord. And yet I find that is so often done, and I'm +afraid it's the case now." + +When they reached Fraser's house they found great excitement within. Men +and women were moving about the kitchen and sitting-room trying to help, +and yet always getting into one another's way. Midnight was taken to the +barn, Dan was led into the kitchen to get warm, while the parson went at +once to the room where Tim was lying. + +Dan shrank back in a corner, for he felt much abashed at the sight of so +many strangers. He wanted to be alone--to think about what the parson had +said coming along the road. And so Fraser was a sponger, and a sucker too, +getting so many good things and giving nothing back. It was mean, and yet +what was he himself but a sponger? What was he doing for Nellie and Parson +John for what they were doing for him? They gave him a comfortable home, +fed, clothed, and taught him, and he was doing nothing to pay them back. +How disgusted his father would be if he only knew about it. + +For the life of him Dan could not have expressed these feelings to anyone. +He only knew that they ran through his mind like lightning, making him +feel very miserable. His cheeks flushed, and a slight sigh escaped his +lips as he sat crouched there in the corner with one small hand supporting +his chin. No one heeded him, for all were too much excited over the +accident to take any notice of a little boy. + +"I said that horse would be the death of him," he heard a woman exclaim. +"Tim's too old a man to drive such a beast as that." + +"Oh, the beast's all right," an old man slowly replied, "but it was put to +a wrong use, that's where the trouble came." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"Don't you know? Didn't you hear about what happened on the river this +afternoon? Tim went there on purpose to meet the parson, and strike up a +race. He's been boasting for some time that he would do it. The Lord has +given that man much rope, and has suffered him long. But this was too +much, and He's tripped him up at last." + +"Peter Brown," and the woman held up her hands in astonishment, "how can +you say such a thing about your old neighbour, and in his house, too, with +him lying there in that condition?" + +"I'm only saying what the rest know and think," was the calm reply. "I've +told Tim time and time again right to his face that the Lord would settle +with him some day. 'Tim,' said I, and it was not later than last fall that +I said it, 'Tim, the Lord has been good to you. He's blessed you in every +way. You've health, strength, and a good home. And what have you done for +Him? What have you given in return? Nothing. You curse, revile and scorn +Him on the slightest pretext. It's not only mean, Tim, but you'll get +punished some day, and don't you forget it.' But he only swore at me, and +told me to shut up and mind my own business and he would mind his. But my +words have come true, and I guess Tim sees it at last." + +Dan was sitting bolt upright now, with his hands clenched and eyes staring +hard at the speaker. The words had gone straight to his little heart, with +terrible, stinging intensity. This man was saying what Farrington and the +parson had said. It must be true. But the idea of the punishment was +something new. He had never thought of that before. + +And even as he looked, a silence spread throughout the room, for Parson +John was standing in the doorway. Upon his face an expression dwelt which +awed more than many words, and all at once realized that the venerable man +had just stepped from the solemn chamber of Death. + + + + +Chapter X + +In Camp. + + +Nestling snugly among large stately trees of pine and spruce, the little +log-cabin presented a picturesque appearance. Its one room, lighted by a +small window, served as kitchen, living and sleeping apartments combined. +It was warm, for the rough logs were well chinked with moss, while the +snow lay thick upon the roof and banked up around the sides. This cabin +had been recently built, and stood there by the little brook as an outward +and visible sign of an inward change in the heart and mind of one of +Glendow's sturdy sons. + +The night Stephen Frenelle left Nellie at the Rectory after the drive home +from the dance, he had fought one of those stern, fierce battles which +must come to all at some time in life. As Jacob of old wrestled all night +long for the mastery, so did Stephen in the silence of his own room. Sleep +fled his eyes as he paced up and down, struggling with the contending +thoughts which filled his heart. At times he clenched his hands and ground +his teeth together as he pictured Dick Farrington standing in the Hall, +hurling forth his taunting remarks. Then he longed for daylight to come +that he might go to his house, call him forth, and give him the thrashing +he so well deserved. He would drive that impudent, sarcastic smile from +his face, and make him take back his words. A voice seemed to say to him, +"Do it. _You must_ do it if you consider yourself a man. He insulted +you to your face, and people will call you a coward if you allow it to +pass." But always there came to him that gentle touch on his arm; he heard +a voice pleading with him to be a man, and saw Nellie looking at him with +those large, beseeching eyes, and his clenched hands would relax. And thus +the battle raged; now this way, now that. Which side would win? When at +length the first streak of dawn was breaking far off in the eastern sky, +and Stephen came forth from the Chamber of Decision, there was no doubt as +to the outcome of the fight. His face bore the marks of the struggle, but +it also shone with a new light. When his mother and Nora came downstairs +they were astonished to see him up so early, the fire in the kitchen stove +burning brightly, and the cattle and sheep fed. Usually Stephen was hard +to arouse in the morning, and it was nearly noon before the chores were +finished, and then always in a half-hearted way. They looked at each +other, and wondered at the change which had taken place. + +Although Stephen had won a victory over himself, he was yet much puzzled. +He wished to redeem the homestead, but how should he set about the task? +As he waited that morning while breakfast was being prepared, this was the +great thought uppermost in his mind. He knew that when spring came there +was the farm to work. In the meantime, however, during the days of winter +when the ground was covered with snow, what could he do? Once aroused, it +was needful for him to set to work as soon as possible. Mechanically he +picked up the weekly paper lying on a chair and glanced carelessly at the +headlines set forth in bold type. As he did so his attention was arrested +by two words "Logs Wanted." He read the article through which told how the +price of lumber had suddenly advanced, and that logs were in great demand. +When Stephen laid down the paper and went into breakfast, the puzzle had +been solved. What about that heavy timber at the rear of their farm? No +axe had as yet rung there, no fire had devastated the place, and the trees +stood tall and straight in majestic grandeur. A brook flowed near which +would bear the logs down the river. + +His mother's and sister's hearts bounded with joy as Stephen unfolded to +them his plan. He would hire two choppers; one could go home at night, +while the other, old Henry, could live with him in the little camp he +would build. They would chop while he hauled the logs to the brook. Mrs. +Frenelle and Nora would do most of the cooking at home, and Stephen, would +come for it at certain times. Thus a new spirit pervaded the house that +day, and Mrs. Frenelle's heart was lighter than it had been for many +months. Stephen did not tell her the cause of this sudden change, but with +a loving mother's perception she felt that Nellie's gentle influence had +much to do with it all. + +One week later the cabin was built, the forest ringing with the sturdy +blows of axes and the resounding crash of some hoary pine or spruce. +Although the work was heavy, Stephen's heart was light. Not only did he +feel the zest of one who had grappled with life in the noble effort to do +the best he could, but he had Nellie's approbation. He drank in the +bracing air of the open as never before, and revelled in the rich perfume +of the various trees as he moved along their great cathedral-like aisles, +carpeted with the whitest of snow. + +The two choppers were kept busy from morning dawn to sunset. They were +skilled craftsmen, trained from early days in woodland lore. One, old +Henry, thoroughly enjoyed his work and at times snatches of a familiar +song fell from his lips as his axe bit deep into the side of some large +tree. + +"You did that well, Henry," Stephen one day remarked, as he watched a +monster spruce wing its way to earth with a terrific crash. + +"It's all in knowin' how," was the deliberate reply, as the old man began +to trim the prostrate form. "Now, a greenhorn 'ud rush in, an' hack an' +chop any old way, an' afore he knew what he was doin' the tree 'ud be +tumblin' down in the wrong place, an' mebbe right a-top of 'im at that. +But I size things up a bit afore I hit a clip. Havin' made up me mind as +to the best spot to fell her, I swing to, an' whar I pint her thar she +goes; that's all thar is about it." + +"But doesn't the wind bother you sometimes?" Stephen inquired. + +The chopper walked deliberately to the butt-end of the tree, and with the +pole of his axe marked off the length of the log. Then he moistened his +hands and drove the keen blade through the juicy bark deep into the wood. + +"I allow fer the wind, laddie," he replied, "I allow fer that. When the +good Lord sends the wind, sometimes from the North, sometimes from the +South, I don't go agin it. Why, what's the use of goin' agin His will, an' +it's all the same whether yer choppin' down a tree, or runnin' across the +sea of Life fer the great Port beyon'. That's what the parson says, an' I +guess he knows, though it seems to me that the poor man hisself has +head-winds aplenty jist now." + +Stephen asked no more questions then, being too busy. But that night, +after supper, as the old man was mending his mittens he sat down by his +side. + +"Henry," he began, "how is it that the parson has head-winds? Do you think +it's the Lord's will?" + +"'Tain't the Lord's will, laddie," was the slow response. "Oh no, 'tain't +His." + +"Whose, then?" + +"It's the devil's, that's whose it is, an' he's usin' sartin men in +Glendow as human bellows to blow his vile wind aginst that man of God. +That's what he's doin', an' they can't see it nohow." + +"And so you think the parson had nothing to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. +You think he is innocent?" + +"Think it, laddie? Think it? What's the use of thinkin' it when I know it. +Haven't I known Parson John fer forty years now. Can't I well remember +when his hair, which is now so white, was as black as the raven's wing. +An' why did it become white? I ax ye that. It's not old age which done it, +ah no. It's care an' work fer the people of Glendow, that's what's done +it. D'ye think I'd believe any yarn about a man that's been mor'n a father +to me an' my family? Didn't I see 'im kneelin' by my little Bennie's bed, +twenty years ago come next June, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks as +he axed the Good Lord to spare the little lad to us a while longer. Mark +my word, Stevie, them people who are tellin' sich stories about that man +'ill come to no good. Doesn't the Lord say in his great Book, 'Touch not +Mine anointed, an' do My prophets no harm?' My old woman often reads them +words to me, fer she's a fine scholar is Marthy. 'Henry,' says she, 'the +parson is the Lord's anointed. He's sot aside fer a holy work, an' it's a +risky bizness to interfere with sich a man.'" + +Scarcely had the speaker finished when the door of the cabin was pushed +suddenly open, and a queer little man entered. A fur cap was pulled down +over his ears, while across his left shoulder and fastened around his body +several times was a new half-inch rope. + +"Hello, Pete," Stephen exclaimed, "You look cold. Come to the stove and +get warm." + +"Y'bet I'm cold," was the reply. "My fingers and nose are most froze." + +"What's brought you away out here this time of the night?" questioned +Stephen, "I thought you liked the store too well to travel this far from +the fire." + +"Bizness, Steve, bizness," and the man rubbed his hands together, at the +same time taking a good survey of the cabin. + +"You look as if you were going to hang yourself, Pete, with all that rope +about your body. Surely you're not tired of living yet." + +"No, no, Steve. Not on your life. There'd be no fun in that, an' it's fun +I'm after this time." + +"But I thought you said you were out on business, and now you say it's +fun." + +"Bizness an' fun, me boy. Bizness an' fun; that's my motto. My bizness +this time is to pinch the Stickles' cow, an' the fun 'ill be to hear +Stickles, Mrs. Stickles an' the little Stickles squeal. Ha, ha! Bizness +an' fun, Steve. Bizness an' fun." + +"What! You're not going to take away the only cow the Stickles have left?" +cried Stephen in amazement. + +"Sure. It's the boss's orders, an' he doesn't mean fun, either. Nuthin' +but bizness with 'im; ah no, nuthin' but bizness." + +"Farrington is a mean rascal!" and Stephen leaped to his feet, his fists +clenched and his eyes flashing. "Hasn't he any heart at all? To think of +him taking the only cow from a poor family when the husband is sick in +bed! What does the man mean?" + +"Don't git excited, me boy. It's only bizness, boss sez, only bizness. The +heart has nuthin' to do with that." + +"Business be blowed! It's vile meanness, that's what it is! And will you +help him out with such work?" + +"It's bizness agin, Steve. I've got to live, an' keep the missus an' +kiddies. What else is there fer a feller to do?" + +"But why is Farrington taking the cow in the winter time, Pete? Why +doesn't he wait until the summer, and give the Stickles a chance?" + +"It all on account of a woman's tongue. That's what's the trouble." + +"A woman's tongue?" + +"Yes, a woman's tongue, an' ye know it's Mrs. Stickles' without me tellin' +ye. She told Tommy Jones, wot told Betty Sharp, wot told the boss, that +she was mighty glad the parson beat 'im at the auction. So the boss got +mad as blazes, an' has sent me fer the cow to pay what the Stickles owe +'im. That's all I know about it, lad, so good-bye to yez both, fer I must +be off. I'm to stay the night at Tommy Jones', an' in the mornin' will go +from there fer the cow. Bizness an' fun, Steve; bizness an' fun; don't +fergit that," and the little old man went off chuckling in high glee. + + + + +Chapter XI + +Guarding the Flock + + +It was nearing the noon hour, and the sun slanting through the forest +lifted into bold relief the trailing shadows of the stately trees. A +lively chickadee was cheeping from a tall spruce, and a bold camp-robber +was hopping in front of the cabin door picking up morsels of food which +were occasionally cast forth. Stephen was preparing dinner, and the +appetizing smell drifted out upon the air. Not far away, perched upon the +branch of a tree, a sleek squirrel was filling the air with his noisy +chattering and scolding. His bright little eyes sparkled with anger at the +big strange intruder into his domain, causing him to pour forth all the +vitriol of the squirrel vocabulary. Suddenly his noisy commotion ceased, +and he lifted his head in a listening attitude. Presently down the trail +leading to the main highway the sound of bells could be distinctly heard. +As they drew nearer their music filled the air, reverberating from hill to +hill and pulsing among the countless reaches of the great sombre forest. +Not a child in the parish of Glendow but knew that familiar sound, and +would rush eagerly into the house with the welcome tidings, for did it not +mean a piece of candy hidden away in most mysterious pockets, which seemed +never to be empty? How often in the deep of night tired sleepers in some +lonely farm-house had been awakened by their merry jingle, and in the +morning husband and wife would discuss the matter and wonder what sick +person Parson John had been visiting. + +The bells grew more distinct now and brought Stephen to the door. Soon +Midnight appeared swinging around a bend in the trail, with her fine neck +proudly arched, ears pointed forward, and her large eyes keen with +expectancy. The squirrel scurried away in a rage; the chickadee hopped to +a safe retreat, and even the saucy camp-robber considered it wise to flap +lazily to the top of the cabin. + +"I'm glad to see you, Stephen," was Parson John's hearty greeting as he +held out his hand. "Dan and I are on our way to visit the Stickles, and +called in to see you in passing. What a snug place you have built here. I +trust you are getting along nicely." + +"Better than I expected," was the reply. "But, say, Parson, you're just in +time for dinner. Let me put Midnight in the barn. She won't object, at any +rate." + +"What! is it that late?" and the worthy man glanced at the sun. "Dear me, +how the time does fly! Well, then, if we will not be in the way I shall +enjoy it very much, for it has been many a day since I have dined in the +woods. But, wait," he cried, as Stephen was leading Midnight to the +stable, "There's a basket of stuff, some pies, and I don't know what else, +in the sleigh for hardy woodsmen, with Nellie's compliments. No, no, not +that basket. It's for the Stickles. The smaller one; I think you'll find +it in the back of the sleigh. There, that's it, with the green handle. It +takes a large basket for all the little Stickles!" and the parson gave a +hearty laugh. + +What a dinner they had in the little cabin that day. Never did meat taste +so good, and never did pie have such a delicious flavour as that which +Nellie had made. The table and stools were rough, the food served on +coarse dishes, and each one helped himself. But what did it matter? Their +appetites were keen and the parson a most entertaining visitor. He told +about the race on the river the day before, and of Tim Fraser's accident +and sudden death, to which the choppers listened with almost breathless +interest, at times giving vent to ejaculations of surprise. + +"I'm sorry we have no milk to offer you," laughed Stephen, passing the +parson a cup of black tea. "But at any minute now a cow may be passing +this way and we might be able to obtain some." + +"A cow passing! I don't understand," and Mr. Westmore stirred the sugar in +his tea. + +"Yes. The Stickles are losing their only cow. Farrington has sent Pete +after her, and he should be along by this time." + +"Stephen," and Parson John's face changed from its genial expression to +one of severity, "do I understand you aright? Do you mean to tell me that +Farrington is taking the Stickles' only cow?" + +"Yes, I'm not joking. It's the solid truth. Pete stopped here on his way +out last night, and told us all about it." + +"Dear me! dear me!" sighed the parson, placing his hand to his head. "When +will that man cease to be a thorn in the flesh? The Stickles are as honest +as the sun, and Farrington knows it. This business must be stopped. Dan +will you please bring out Midnight. We must hurry away at once." + +Soon the little cabin was left behind and they were swinging out along the +trail. The parson was quiet now. His old jocular spirit had departed, +leaving him very thoughtful. + +"The poor people! The poor people!" he ejaculated. "When will such things +cease? Why will men dressed in a little brief authority try to crush those +less fortunate? Dan, my boy, you may be a big man some day. You may get +money, but never forget the poor. Be kind to them rather than to the +powerful. They need kindness and sympathy, lad, more than others. My +parents were poor, and I know how they toiled and slaved to give me an +education. I well remember how they worked early and late until their +fingers were knotted and their backs bowed. They are the noble ones who +live in our midst, and though they may have little of this world's goods, +they have great souls and are the real salt of the earth. Never forget +that, boy." + +Dan did not know how to reply to these words, but sat very still watching +Midnight speeding on her way. The road wound for some distance through a +wooded region and over several hills. At length it entered upon a +settlement where the land was lean and rocks lifted their frowning heads +above the surface. The few houses were poor, standing out grey and gaunt +in the midst of this weird barrenness. But at every door Midnight was +accustomed to stop. Well did she know the little voices which welcomed +her, and the tiny hands which stroked her soft nose, or held up some +dainty morsel of bread, potatoes or grass. But to-day there was none of +this. She knew when the reins throbbed with an energy which meant hurry. +Past the gateways she clipped with those long steady strides over the icy +road, across a bleak stretch of country, down a valley, up a winding hill, +and then away to the right through a long narrow lane to a lone +farm-house. + +As they approached a commotion was observed near the barn. Soon the cause +was clearly manifest. Pete, assisted by someone, who proved to be Tommy +Jones, had his rope about the horns of a black and white cow, and was +endeavouring to lead her away. Mrs. Stickles and four little Stickles were +filling the air with their cries of anger and protest. The cow, frightened +by the noise, had become confused, and was trying to bolt towards the +barn. Pete was tugging at the rope, while his assistant was belabouring +her with a stout stick. + +"Ye brutes!" Mrs. Stickles was shouting at the top of her voice. "What +d'yez mean by thumpin' me poor Pansy in that way! But here comes the +Lord's avengin' angel, praise His holy name! Stop 'em, Parson!" she +shrieked, rushing towards the sleigh. "Smite 'em down, Parson, an' pray +the Lord to turn His hottest thunderbolt upon Si Farrington's head!" + +"Hush, hush, woman," Mr. Westmore remonstrated. "Don't talk that way. +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay.'" + +By this time the refractory cow had been brought to a state of partial +subjection, and stood blinking at her captors as if uncertain what course +to pursue. Leaving the sleigh, Mr. Westmore strode over to where the three +were standing and laid his hand upon the rope. + +"What's the meaning of this, Pete?" he asked. "Why are you troubling this +family?" + +"It's them that's troublin' me, sir," was the reply. "I'm jist here on +bizness, an' it's bizness I mean. If ye'll jist keep that whirlwind of a +woman away an' them squaking kids so I kin git this cratur clear of the +barn-yard, she'll walk like a daisy." + +"But why are you taking the animal? Don't you know it's their only cow, +and it's very important that Mr. Stickles, who is sick in bed, should have +fresh milk every day?" + +"That's not my bizness, Parson. My bizness is to git the cow; so stand +clear if ye please, fer I want to git away. I'm late as 'tis." + +"Hold a minute, Pete," and the parson laid a firmer hand upon the rope. +"Who sent you here after this cow?" + +"The boss, of course." + +"Mr. Farrington?" + +"Sure." + +"And he wants the cow in payment of a debt, does he?" + +"Guess so. But that ain't none of my bizness. My bizness is to git the +cow." + +"How much is the debt, anyway?" the parson asked, turning to Mrs. +Stickles, who was standing near with arms akimbo. + +"Twenty dollars, sir. No mor'n twenty dollars. Not one cent more, an' +Tony'll pay every cent when he comes from the woods." + +"Well, then, Pete," and the parson turned towards the latter, "unfasten +this cow, and go back to your master. Tell him that I will be responsible +for the debt, and that he shall have the full amount as soon as I get +home." + +But Pete shook his head, and began to gather up the loose end of the rope +into a little coil in his left hand. + +"That ain't the 'boss's order, sir. 'Fetch her, Pete,' sez he, 'an' let +nuthin' stop ye. If they hev the money to pay, don't take it. The cow's of +more value to me than money.' Them's his very orders." + +"Oh, I see, I see," Mr. Westmore remarked, as a stern look crossed his +face, and his eyes flashed with indignation. "It's not the money your +master wants, but only the pound of flesh." + +"Boss didn't say nuthin' 'bout any pound of flesh. He only said 'the cow,' +an' the cow he'll git if Pete Davis knows anything." + +Quick as a flash Parson John's hand dove deep into his capacious pocket. +He whipped out a clasp-knife, opened it, and with one vigorous stroke +severed the rope about one foot from the cow's head. + +"There!" he cried to the staring, gaping Pete. "Take that rope to your +master, and tell him what I have done. Leave the matter to me. I alone +will be responsible for this deed." + +The appearance of Mr. Westmore at this moment was enough to awe even the +most careless. His gigantic form was drawn to its fullest height. His +flashing eyes, turned full upon Pete's face, caused that obsequious menial +to fall back a step or two. Even a blow from the parson's clenched fist +just then would not have been a surprise. His spirit at this moment was +that of the prophets of old, and even of the Great Master Himself, +upholding justice and defending the cause of the poor and down-trodden. + +For an instant only they faced each other. Then, Pete's eyes dropped as +the eyes of an abashed dog before his master. He stooped for the rope, +which had fallen to the ground, and slowly gathered it into a little coil. +But still he maintained his ground. + +"Are you going?" demanded the parson. + +"Yes," came the surly response. "I'm goin', but remember you hev +interfered with Si Farrington's lawful bizness, so beware! I'll go an' +tell 'im what ye say. Oh, yes, I'll go, but you'll hear from 'im again. +Oh, yes, ye'll hear." + +"Let 'im come 'imself next time fer the cow," spoke up Mrs. Stickles, who +had been silently watching the proceedings. "I'd like fer 'im to come. I'd +like to git me fingers into his hair an' across his nasty, scrawny face. +That's what I'd like to do." + +"Hold yer tongue!" shouted Pete, "an'----" + +"There now, no more of that," commanded Mr. Westmore. "We've had too many +words already, so take yourself off." + +They watched him as he moved down the lane to the road. He was followed by +Tommy Jones, who had stood through it all with mouth wide open, and eyes +staring with astonishment. When they were at length clear of the place the +parson gave a sigh of relief, and across his face flitted a smile--like +sunshine after storm. + + + + +Chapter XII + +Light and Shadow + + +Upon entering the house Mr. Westmore divested himself of his great-coat, +and stood warming himself by the kitchen fire, while Mrs. Stickles bustled +around, smoothing down the bedclothes and putting the room to rights in +which her sick husband lay. The kitchen floor was as white as human hands +could make it, and the stove shone like polished ebony. Upon this a kettle +steamed, while underneath a sleek Maltese cat was curled, softly purring +in calm content. + +Dan, assisted by the little Stickles, stabled Midnight, after which he was +conducted over to the back of the barn to enjoy the pleasure of coasting +down an icy grade. The only sound, therefore, was Mrs. Stickles' voice in +the next room as she related to "her man" the wonderful events which had +just taken place. A slight smile of pleasure crossed the parson's face as +he listened to her words and thought of the big honest heart beneath that +marvellous tongue. The sun of the winter day was streaming through the +little window and falling athwart the foot of the bed as Mr. Westmore +entered the room and grasped the sick man's white, outstretched hand. + +"God bless ye, sir," exclaimed Mr. Stickles, "fer what ye hev done fer me +an' mine to-day. It ain't the first time by a long chalk. The Lord will +reward ye, even if I can't." + +"Tut, tut, man, don't mention it," Mr. Westmore replied as he took a seat +by the bed. "And how are you feeling to-day, Mr. Stickles?" + +"Only middlin', Parson, only middlin'. Simply joggin', simply joggin'." + +Mrs. Stickles seated herself in a splint-bottomed chair, and picked up her +knitting which had been hurriedly dropped upon the arrival of Pete Davis. +How her fingers did work! It was wonderful to watch them. How hard and +worn they were, and yet so nimble. The needles flew with lightning +rapidity, clicking against one another with a rhythmical cadence; the +music of humble, consecrated work. But when Mr. Westmore began to tell +about Tim Fraser, and his sudden death, the knitting dropped into her lap, +and she stared at the speaker with open-eyed astonishment. + +"An' do ye mean to tell me," she exclaimed, when the parson had finished, +"that Tim Fraser is dead?" + +"Yes, it's only too true, Mrs. Stickles. Poor man--poor man!" + +"Ye may well call 'im poor, Parson, fer I'm thinkin' that's jist what he +is at this blessed minute. He's in a bad way now, I reckon." + +"Hush, hush, Marthy," her husband remonstrated. "We must not judge too +harshly." + +"I'm not, John, I'm not, an' the parson knows I'm not. But if Tim isn't +sizzlin', then the Bible's clean wrong," and the needles clicked harder +than ever. + +"It teaches us the uncertainty of life," replied Mr. Westmore. "It shows +how a man with great strength, and health can be stricken down in an +instant. How important it is to be always ready when the call does come." + +"Ye're right, Parson, ye're surely right," and Mrs. Stickles stopped to +count her stitches. "Wasn't John an' me talkin' about that only last +night. I was readin' the Bible to 'im, an' had come to that story about +poor old Samson, an' his hard luck." + +"'It's very strange,' sez John, sez he to me, 'that when Samson lost his +hair he lost his great strength, too. I can't unnerstan' it nohow.'" + +"'Why, that's simple enough,' sez I to 'im. 'The Lord when He let Samson's +strength rest in his hair jist wanted to teach 'im how unsartin a thing +strength is. 'Why, anyone can cut off yer hair,' sez I, 'an' ye know, +John,' sez I, 'ye don't allus have to cut it off, either, fer it falls out +like yourn, John--fer yer almost bald.' Ain't them the exact words I said, +John, an' only last night at that?" + +"Yes, Marthy. That's just what ye said, an' we see how true it is. Tim +Fraser was a powerful man as fer as strength an' health goes, but what did +it all amount to? He lost it as quick as Samson of old. Ah, yes, a man's a +mighty weak thing, an' his strength very unsartin, an' hangs by a slender +thread. Look at me, parson. Once I was able to stan' almost anything, an' +here I be a useless log--a burden to meself an' family." + +"Don't say that, John, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Stickles wiping her eyes +with her apron. "Ye know ye ain't a bother. Yer as patient as a fly in +molasses. The fly is thar an' can't help it, an' so are you, John. It's +the Lord's will, an' ye've often said so. He'll look after me an' the +little ones. He's never forsaken us yit, an' I guess He won't if we stick +to 'im." + +"Your children are certainly a credit to you, Mrs. Stickles," remarked Mr. +Westmore. "You should be proud of them." + +"I am, sir, indeed I am," and the worthy woman's face beamed with +pleasure. "But it takes a lot of 'scretion, Parson, to handle a big +family. I've often said to John that children are like postage-stamps. +They've got to be licked sometimes to do the work they were intended to +do. But if ye lick 'em too much, ye spile 'em. Oh, yes, it takes great +'scretion to bring up a family." + +"You certainly have used great discretion," replied Parson John, much +amused at Mrs. Stickles' words. "I suppose those who are working out are +just as dear as the four little ones at home?" + +"They're all dear to me, sir, all dear. I kin count 'em all on me ten +fingers, no more an' no less. Now some fingers are larger than t'others, +and some smaller, an' some more useful than t'others an' do more work, but +I couldn't part with one. So as I often tell John our children are jist +like me ten fingers. I couldn't do without one of 'em--ah, no, bless their +dear hearts." + +The sound of little feet and childish voices caused them to look towards +the kitchen. There they beheld the four little Stickles, with Dan in the +midst, standing in a row by the stove. + +"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the parson, rising and going towards them. "So here +you are, as fresh and active as ever." + +Diving deep into his pocket he brought forth a generous piece of home-made +candy. + +"Sweets for the sweet," he cried. "Now, who's to have this?" + +At once a rush ensued and four little forms surrounded him. + +"Wait, wait; not yet!" and the good man held the candy aloft. "Nothing +given away here. You must earn every bit. All in a row now. There, that's +better," and he lined them up, like a veteran schoolmaster, proud of his +little class. "Come, I want your names. You begin," and he tapped the +nearest to him on the shoulder. + +"John Medley Stickles, sir," came the quick reply. + +"A good name, my little man," and the parson patted him on the head. "May +you be worthy of your namesake, that noble man of God--the first Bishop of +this Diocese. Now next," and he pointed to the second little Stickles. + +"Benjamin Alexander Stickles, sir," + +"Ha, ha. Named after your two grandfathers. Fine men they were, too. Now +my little maiden, we'll hear from you." + +"Martha Trumpit Stickles, sir," came the shy response. + +"That's a good name, my dear, after your mother--and with her eyes, too. +Just one more left. Come, my dear, what have you to say?" + +"Ruth Wethmore Stickles, thir, if you pleath," lisped the little lass, +with her eyes upon the floor. + +At these words the parson paused, as if uncertain what to say. "Ruth, the +gleaner," he at length slowly remarked. "Ruth Westmore. Ah, Mrs. Stickles, +I little thought that day my dear wife stood sponsor for your baby here, +and gave her her own name, how soon she would be taken from us. Four +years--four long years since she went home. But come, but come," he +hurriedly continued, noticing Mrs. Stickles about to place her apron to +her eyes. "I have a question to ask each little one here, and then +something is coming. Look, John, answer me, quick. How many Commandments +are there?" + +"Ten, sir," came the ready reply. + +"What is the fifth one?" + +"Honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which +the Lord thy God giveth thee." + +"That's good, that's good. Don't forget that, my little man. The first +commandment with promise. I taught your brother Tony that when he was a +little lad, and I'm sure he hasn't forgotten it. Now, Bennie, what two +things do we learn from these commandments?" + +"My duty towards God, an' my duty towards my neighbour." + +"Right, right you are. Now, Martha, what were you made at your baptism?" + +"A member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the Kingdom of +Heaven." + +"Well done. I thought that would stick you, but I see you have learned +your lesson well! It's Ruth's turn now. Can you tell me, my dear, what +happened on Good Friday?" + +"Jesus died, thir, on the Croth." + +"And what took place on Easter Day?" + +"He roth from the grave, thir." + +"Good, good. Always remember that. Good Friday and Easter Day come very +near together. 'Earth's saddest day and brightest day are just one day +apart.'" + +Mrs. Stickles' face beamed with pleasure as the parson praised the little +class, and gave a piece of candy to each. Then he drew from his pocket a +small package wrapped in white tissue paper tied with a piece of pink +ribbon, and held it up before the wondering eyes of the little Stickles. + +"From Nellie," he remarked. "Candy she made herself for the one who can +best say the verses on the Christian Year she gave you to learn some time +ago. Now, who can say them all through without one mistake?" + +Instantly four little hands shot up into the air, and four pairs of +sparkling eyes were fixed eagerly upon the coveted treasure. + +"Well, Bennie, we'll try you," said the parson. "Stand up straight, and +don't be afraid to speak out." + + "Advent tells us Christ is here, + Christmas tells us Christ is near--" + +"Hold, hold!" cried Mr. Westmore. "Try again." + +But the second attempt proving worse than the first, it was passed on to +Martha. Bravely the little maiden plunged into the intricacies of the two +first verses, but became a total wreck upon the third. Try as she might +the words would not come, and tears were in her eyes when at length she +gave up the attempt and waited for John Medley to conquer where she had +failed. But alas! though starting in bravely he mixed Epiphany and Advent +so hopelessly that the parson was forced to stop his wild wanderings. + +"Dear me! dear me!" Mr. Westmore exclaimed. "What are we to do? Surely +Ruth can do better than this." + +With hands clasped demurely before her and her eyes fixed upon the floor, +slowly the little maiden began to lisp forth the words while the rest +listened in almost breathless silence. + + "Advent telth uth Christ ith near; + Christmath telth uth Christ ith here; + In Epithany we trath + All the glory of Hith grath." + +Thus steadily on she lisped through verse after verse, and when the last +was completed a sigh of relief was heard from Mrs. Stickles, while the +parson clapped his hands with delight. How her eyes did sparkle as he +handed her the little package, with a few words of encouragement, and how +longingly the three others looked upon the treasure. + +"Now," said Mr. Westmore, "we must be away. Nellie will wonder what has +become of us." + +"Not yet, sir, not yet!" cried Mrs. Stickles. "You must have a cup of tea +first.' The water is bilin', an' it'll be ready in a jiffy. Did ye give +Midnight any hay?" she demanded, turning to Bennie. + +"Oh, ma!" came the reply. "I fergot all about it." + +"There now, it's jist like ye. Hurry off this minute and give that poor +critter some of that good hay from the nigh loft." + +As the little Stickles and Dan scurried out of the room, Ruth still +clutching her precious package, Mrs. Stickles turned to Mr. Westmore. + +"There now, Parson, ye jist must wait, an' have that cup of tea, an' some +of my fresh bread. We shan't tech Nellie's pies an' cake, cause ye kin hev +her cookin' any time, bless her dear heart. How I wish she was here +herself so I could look into her sweet face an' tell her meself how +grateful I am." + +Hardly had the parson seated himself at the table ere several piercing +shrieks fell upon his ears. Rushing to the door he beheld John Medley +hurrying towards the house with arms at right angles, and his face as pale +as death. + +"Child! Child! What is it?" shouted Mrs. Stickles. + +"R-r-uth's k-k-illed! She f-f-ell from the la-la-der. Oh! Oh!" + +Waiting to hear no more they hurried to the barn, and there they found the +little form lying on the floor, still grasping in her hand the precious +package. + +"My poor lamb! My darlin' baby! are ye kilt, are ye kilt?" wailed Mrs. +Stickles, kneeling down by her side. "Speak to me, my lamb, my little +baby! Oh, speak to yer mammy!" + +But no sign of recognition came from the prostrate child. Seeing this the +mother sprang to her feet and wrung her hands in agony of despair. + +"What will we do? Oh, what kin we do? My baby is kilt--my poor darlin'! +Oh--oh--oh!" + +Tenderly Parson John lifted the child in his arms, carried her into the +house, and laid her on the settle near the stove. It was found that she +was breathing, and soon a little water brought some color into her face. +Presently she opened her eyes, and started up, but fell back again, with a +cry of pain, fiercely clutching the package. + +"What is it, dear?" asked the parson. "Where is the pain?" + +"My leg! My leg!" moaned the child. + +"Ah, I feared so," exclaimed Mr. Westmore, after a brief examination. "We +must have the doctor at once. Is there anyone near who will go for him, +Mrs. Stickles?" + +"Not a man, sir, that's fit to go. They're all in the woods. Oh, what kin +we do!" + +"Don't worry, Mrs. Stickles," was the reassuring reply. "Midnight will go, +and I will hold the reins. Come, Dan, the horse, quick." + +As Midnight drew up to the door a few minutes later, Parson John came out +of the house and affectionately patted the sleek neck of the noble animal. + +"Remember, Midnight," he said, "you must do your best to-day. It's for the +sake of the little lass, and she was getting hay for you. Don't forget +that." + + + + +Chapter XIII + +For the Sake of a Child + + +Night had shut down over the land as Midnight, with her long, swinging +strides, clipped through the lighted streets of the prosperous little +railway town of Bradin, and drew up at old Doctor Leeds' snug house. A +fast express had just thundered shrieking by. A strong, cutting wind +racing in from the Northeast was tearing through the sinuous telegraph +wires with a buzzing sound, the weird prelude of a coming storm. + +The worthy doctor was at home, having only lately returned from a long +drive into the country. He and his wife, a kindly-faced little woman, were +just sitting down to their quiet meal. Seldom could they have an evening +together, for the doctor's field was a large one and his patients +numerous. + +"You have no engagement for to-night, I hope, Joseph," remarked his wife, +as she poured the tea. + +"No, dear," was the reply. "I expect to have one evening at home, and I'm +very glad of it, too. I'm weary to-night, and am longing for my arm-chair, +with my papers and pipe." + +A sharp knock upon the door aroused them, and great was their surprise to +see the venerable Rector of Glendow enter. + +"Parson John!" cried the doctor, rushing forward and grasping his old +friend's hand. "It's been months since I've seen you. What lucky event +brought you here to-night? Did you miss the train? If so, I'm glad. My +chessmen are moulding for want of use." + +But the parson shook his head and briefly told of the accident in the +barn. + +"And so the little lass is in trouble, hey? More worry for Mrs. Stickles." + +"And you will be able to go to-night, Doctor?" + +"Certainly. Sweepstakes hasn't been on the road for two days, and is keen +for a good run." + +"But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Leeds, "are you able to go? You have +been driving all day, and must be very tired. Why not rest a little +first?" + +"And let the poor child suffer that much longer! Not a bit of it." + +"I have heard doctors say," remarked the parson, as he and Dan sat down to +their supper, "that they get so hardened to suffering that at last it does +not affect them at all. I am glad it is not true with you." + +"The older I get," replied the doctor thoughtfully, stirring his tea, "the +more my heart aches at the pains and sufferings of others, especially in +little children. As soon as I hear of someone in distress I can never rest +until I reach his or her side. There always comes to me a voice urging me +to make haste. Even now I seem to hear that child calling to me. She is a +sweet, pretty lass, and how often have I patted her fair little head, and +to think of those blue eyes filled with tears, that tiny face drawn with +pain, and her whole body writhing in agony. However, you know all about +this, Parson, so what's the use of my talking." + +"But I am glad to hear you speak as you do, Doctor. Over thirty years have +I been in Glendow, and I become more affected by suffering the older I +get." + +The doctor looked keenly into Mr. Westmore's face, as if trying to read +his inmost thoughts. + +"Do you ever become weary of your work?" he at length asked. "Do you not +long for a more congenial field?" + +"I have often been asked that question, Doctor," the parson slowly +replied, "but not so much of late. I am getting old now, and young men are +needed, so I am somewhat forgotten. However, I am glad that this is so. +Years ago when a tempting offer came to me from some influential parish, +though I always refused, it disturbed me for days, until the matter was +finally settled. Now I do not have such distractions, and am quite happy. +In the quiet parish of Glendow I find all that the heart can desire. The +labour to me becomes no more monotonous than the work of parents with +their children. They often are weary in their toil for their little ones, +but not weary of it. The body gives out at times, but not the love in the +heart. And so I always find something new and fresh in my work which gives +such a relish to life. I have baptized most of the young people in this +parish, I have prepared them for Confirmation, given them their first +Communion, and in numerous cases have joined their hands in holy wedlock. +Some may long for a greater field and a wealthy congregation. But, +remember, as the sun in the heavens may be seen as clearly in the tiny +dewdrop as in the great ocean, so I can see the glory of the Father +shining in these humble parishioners of mine, especially so in the +children of tender years, as in the great intellects. As for travelling +abroad to see the world and its wonders, I find I can do it more +conveniently in my quiet study among my books. At a very small cost I can +wander to all parts of the world, without the dangers and inconveniences +of steamers and railroads. As to studying human nature, it is to be found +in any parish. Carlyle well said that 'any road, this simple Entepfuhl +road, will lead you to the end of the world,' and was it not the quaint +and humble-minded Thoreau who expressed himself in somewhat the same way: + + "'If with Fancy unfurled, + You leave your abode, + You may go round the world, + By the Marlboro road.'" + +The doctor rose from the table and grasped Mr. Westmore's hand. + +"Thank you for those words," he said. "I have thought of those very things +so often, and you have expressed my ideas exactly. I must now be away. You +will stay all night, for I wish to have a good chat with you upon my +return." + +"Thank you very much," the parson replied, "but we must be off as soon as +possible. My daughter is all alone and will be quite uneasy by my long +absence. We shall go home by the way of Flett's Corner, and thus save +three miles. But look, Doctor, don't send your bill to the Stickles. Send +it to me. Now be sure." + +"Tut, tut, man. Don't worry about the bills of others. Leave this matter +to me. The Stickles won't have any cause for anxiety about the bill, and +why should you? It's paid already." + +What a noble picture these two men presented as they stood there! Both had +grown old in a noble service for their fellow-men, and truly their grey +heads were beautiful crowns of glory. One had charge of the cure of souls, +the other of bodies, and yet there was no clashing. Each respected the +work of the other, and both were inspired with the high motive which lifts +any profession or occupation above the ordinary--the Christ-like motive of +love. + +Parson John remained for some time after the doctor had left, chatting +with Mrs. Leeds, and when at length Midnight started on her homeward way +it was quite late. They had not advanced far before the storm which had +been threatening swept upon them. Although the night was dark, the roadbed +was firm and Midnight surefooted. As they scudded forward the wind howled +through the trees and dashed the snow against their faces. They fled by +farm-houses and caught fleeting glimpses of the bright, cosy scenes +within. Twice they met belated teams plodding wearily homeward. Without +one touch of rein, or word of command, each time Midnight slowed down, +swerved to the left and swung by. It was only when the dim, dark forms of +the panting steeds loomed up for an instant on their right, and then +disappeared into the blackness, were they aware of their presence. +Occasionally the road wound for a mile or more through a wooded region, +and in such places they found peace and shelter. Here the wind could not +reach them, although they could hear its wild ravings in the tree-tops +above. The snow came softly, silently down, and, although they could not +see it falling, they could feel it flecking their faces and knew it was +weaving its mystic robe over their bodies. In one place such as this a +faint glimmer of light struggled through the darkness a short distance +from the road. + +"It's Stephen's cabin," the parson remarked. "It is a snug place on a +night like this. I wonder what he is doing now. I wish we had time to call +to give him a word of cheer." + +About two hundred yards beyond the cabin they left the main highway and +entered upon a lumber road. This latter was used in the winter time in +order to avoid a large hill on the former and the huge drifts which piled +from fence to fence. At first Midnight slowed down to a walk, but at +length, becoming a little impatient to get home, she broke into a gentle +trot. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the sleigh gave a great lurch, and +before a hand could be raised Dan found himself shooting over the parson +and falling headlong into the soft yielding snow. Recovering himself as +quickly as possible, and brushing the snow from his mouth, ears and eyes, +he groped around to ascertain what had happened. Away in the distance he +could hear a crashing sound as Midnight hurried along with the overturned +sleigh. Then all was still. He called and shouted, but received no reply. +A feeling of dread crept over him, and at once he started to walk back to +the road. He had advanced but a few steps, however, when he stumbled and +half fell over a form which he knew must be that of Parson John. He put +out his hand and felt his coat. Then he called, but all in vain. Hastily +fumbling in his pockets he drew forth several matches and tried to strike +a light. His little hands trembled as he did so, and time and time again a +draught blew out the tiny flame. In desperation he at length kneeled down +upon the snow, sheltered the match with his coat, and ere long had the +satisfaction of seeing the flame grow strong and steady. Carefully he held +it up and the small light illumined the darkness for the space of a few +feet around. Then it fell upon the prostrate form at his side. It touched +for an instant the old man's face, oh, so still and white, lying there in +the snow; and then an awful blackness. The light had gone out! + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The Long Night + + +As Dan stood there in the darkness with snow to his knees, clutching +between his fingers the extinguished match, the helplessness of his +position dawned upon him. What had happened to the parson he could easily +guess, for the place was full of old stumps, half protruding from beneath +the snow. No doubt he had struck one of these in the fall. But of the +result of the blow he could not tell, for placing his ear close down to +the face he tried to detect some sign of life, but all in vain. Suppose +the parson had been killed! He thought of Nellie, waiting anxiously at the +Rectory. How could he tell her what had happened? Suddenly a new sense of +responsibility came to him. Something must be done as quickly as possible, +and he was the only one to do it. He thought of Stephen's cabin, which +they had passed a short time before. He could obtain help there, and he +must go at once. Taking off his own outer coat he laid it carefully over +the prostrate man, and then struggled back to the road. Having reached +this he imagined it would not take him long to cover the distance. But he +soon found how difficult was the undertaking, and what a task it was to +keep the road on such a night. The blackness was intense, and the snow, +which all the time had been steadily falling, added to the difficulty. +Every few steps he would plunge off into the deep snow, and flounder +around again until he had regained the solid footing. The distance, which +was not more than a mile, seemed never-ending. Still he plodded on, the +thought of that silent form lying in the snow inspiring him with extra +energy. At length, much exhausted, a welcome glimmer of light winged its +way through the darkness. Dan's heart leaped within him. The place was +near, and Stephen had not yet gone to bed. Panting heavily, and struggling +unsteadily, he crept slowly forward, reached the door and pounded fiercely +upon it with both doubled-up fists. + +Slowly the door was opened, and great was Stephen's surprise to see the +little snow-covered figure standing before him. + +"Help! Come quick!" gasped Dan. + +"What's wrong?" Stephen demanded, dragging the boy into the cabin. +"Where's the parson?" + +"Over there--in the snow--in the woods!" + +"Sit down," said Stephen, noticing how weary and excited was the little +lad. "Tell me now all about it." + +Quickly and briefly Dan related about the drive through the storm, the +accident on the "cut off," and Parson John's fall. + +"Oh, God!" Stephen groaned when he had heard the story. "What will Nellie +think? What will she say? It will break her heart! I must be off at once!" + +Reaching for the lantern his hand trembled as he lighted it. + +"Wait here," he commanded, "till I hitch Dexter to the pung; or no, you'd +better come with me and give a hand. There is no time to lose." + +Dan obeyed without a word and held the lantern while Stephen harnessed the +horse. + +"Where's Midnight?" Stephen asked, as he deftly drew the reins through the +terrets. + +"She ran away. I heard the sleigh crashing after her as she ran." + +"She'll kill herself! But no, she's too wise for that. She'll go home and +whinny at the door, and then what will Nellie think! We must hurry along +as fast as possible. She will he frantic with fear." + +"Guess we'd better bring the parson back to your place," Dan remarked as +Dexter swung down the road. + +"Bring him to my place!" exclaimed Stephen in surprise. "What can we do +for him there?" + +"Won't he need the doctor?" + +"Yes, he may. But we can't go all the way to Bradin now." + +"Guess you won't have to do that." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"He's at the Stickles'." + +"At the Stickles'?" + +"Yep. The little girl got hurt, so we went after the doctor." + +"Oh, I see--I see now," Stephen mused. "That's a different matter. It's +only three miles to the Stickles'. But the road will be bad to-night, for +the wind's across country, and the drifts there pile fast and deep. But I +shall go if necessary, even if I have to crawl on all fours. I won't have +to do that, though, for Dexter will take me through if any horse can." + +It did not take them long to cover the one mile of road between the cabin +and the place where the accident had occurred. By the light of the lantern +it was not difficult to find the spot. An uncanny feeling crept over them +as they drew near, and saw the parson lying there in the snow just as Dan +had left him. With the lantern in his hand Stephen leaped from the pung +and looked intently into the face of the prostrate man. It did not take +him long to ascertain that life still remained in his body, and a prayer +of thankfulness went up from his heart as he thought of the dear old man +and the anxious Nellie. + +Quickly and as carefully as possible they lifted him into the pung, +covered him with a warm robe, and then sped back to the cabin. As soon as +they had laid him upon the bed, Stephen reached for a heavy coat hanging +on the wall. + +"I'm off now," he said. "You keep watch. I'll be back as soon as I can." + +The injured man lay perfectly motionless, to all outward appearance dead. +Dan stood looking at him for some time after Stephen had left, puzzled and +bewildered. What could he do? What would Nellie think of him now? He sank +upon the stool by the bedside And buried his face in his hands--a forlorn +little creature, trying to think. Presently he glanced towards the bed, +and gazed long and intently upon the parson's face. Many were the thoughts +which crowded into his mind as he sat there. A deep affection for the old +man had sprung up in his heart. To him he was like some superior being +with his great strength and wonderful knowledge. Then to think he should +care for him, Dan Flitter, so small, who could neither read nor write, who +was nothing but a sponger. The thought of Farrington's insult came to him, +and what he had said about the parson. It had rankled continually in his +breast, and now it arose in greater force than ever. Why were the people +saying such things about this good man? He had listened to men talking in +the store and along the road. They had said and hinted many things, and he +had been silent. But, though silent, his mind and heart had been at work. +Often while lying in his little bed at night he had brooded over the +matter. He longed to do something to clear the parson, and show the people +that they were wrong. But what could he do? They would not listen to him. +They hinted that the parson had stolen the gold, and what could he say? It +needed more than words. These were the thoughts which had been beating +through his brain for days, giving him at times that listless manner, +far-away look, and lack of interest in his studies, which worried Nellie +so much. So sitting on guard by the injured man's side this night with +large, dreamy eyes, thoughtful face--more thoughtful than ordinary for a +child of his age--he recalled the various scenes since the night of the +fire. Suddenly his face flushed, the dreamy expression faded from his +eyes, as the dim light of dawn is dispersed by the fulness of day. They +shone with a new radiance as he turned them upon the parson's face. He +rose to his feet and walked quickly up and down the room. He was once +again a creature of the wild. The glory of a lofty purpose fired his +blood. He had experienced it before when, out in the woods, he had +followed the tracks of the nimble deer, or listened to the whirr of the +startled pigeon. But now it was a nobler chase, a loftier purpose, in +which the honour of a faithful friend was at stake. + +A sound from the bed startled him. Glancing quickly in that direction he +noticed the lips of the wounded man moving. No sign of consciousness, +however, did he give. He was in another world, the strange, mysterious +world, where the mind roams at will and language flows from the +fountain-head of the inner being. + +"'The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee--drink +this--.'" He was in church at the Communion service, administering the +cup. + +"Four thousand dollars." He was at the auction now, eager and intent. + +"Poor lassie, poor little lamb." This time it was the injured Stickles +child. And thus he rambled on from one thing to another, while Dan stood +like a statue in the room staring upon him. Suddenly he opened his eyes, +looked around in a dazed manner, and then fixed them upon the boy's face. +He moved a little, and at once a cry of pain escaped his lips. + +"Dan! Dan!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter? Where am I, and what is the +meaning of this pain in my shoulder?" + +The look in his face was most pathetic, and Dan longed to do something to +relieve his suffering. + +"Does yer shoulder hurt much?" the lad asked. + +"Yes, yes, the pain is intense. Tell me how it happened." + +"We were chucked from the sleigh, an' I guess you struck a stump," was the +reply. + +"Is this Stephen's cabin?" + +"Yep. He's gone fer the doctor, so I'm keepin' watch." + +The parson remained very quiet, and did not speak for some time. He still +felt confused, and his shoulder was giving him great pain. He realized, +however, how much he owed to Dan. What if he had been alone when the +accident occurred? + +"Did you come back for Stephen?" he at length questioned. + +"Yep." + +"And you were not hurt? Are you sure?" + +"Sure's I'm livin'." + +"And you were not afraid to come alone to the cabin for help?" + +"No, I didn't mind." + +"You're a brave boy, Dan. You've done much for me to-night. Saved my life, +in fact." + +"Oh, I didn't do much. Not worth mentionin'," and the lad took his seat by +the bedside. + +How the time did creep by. Often Dan went to the door and looked out. He +strained his ears in order to hear the sound of bells, but the wind +moaning and tearing through the tree-tops alone fell upon his ears. At +last, when his patience was almost exhausted, the door was flung open, and +Doctor Leeds entered, covered with snow, and a most anxious look upon his +face. It did not take long for the practised eye and hand to ascertain the +trouble. The shoulder had been dislocated, and would have to be replaced. + +Then the parson showed of what stuff he was made. Hardly a sound escaped +his lips as the doctor, assisted by Stephen, performed the painful +operation. + +"There!" exclaimed the physician, as he bound up the wounded member, +"we'll have you round again in a short time. Now, some would have squaked +and yelled like a baby, but you're a man through and through." "Thank +you, Doctor. You are very good. But how about the little lass? You didn't +leave her for me? Tell me the truth," and the parson's eyes sought the +doctor's face. + +"Oh, don't you worry about her," was the good-natured reply. "Sweepstakes +took me over the road like the wind, and I had the poor little leg all +fixed up before Stephen arrived. She'll do very well now without my care. +But come, we must get you home at once." + +"Do you think I am able to go?" + +"Able! certainly you're able. Home's the only place for you, though the +journey may cause you some pain." + +"And you will come too, Doctor? You muat be very tired, and need a good +rest." + +"Yes, I'm going with you. I'm not going to leave you yet. You're worth +fifty ordinary men, and we must not run any risk. Besides that, sir, I do +want a glimpse of your dear Nellie, and a little chat with her. I haven't +rested my eyes upon her for months, and do you think I'm going to miss +such an opportunity? No, sir, not a bit of it." + +Mr. Westmore was forced to smile in spite of his weakness as he looked +into the doctor's strong, rugged face. + +"God bless you," he replied. "This isn't the first time you have been a +firm friend to me. I can never forget how you stood day and night by the +side of my dear wife, doing all in your power to keep her with us a little +longer." + +"Tut, tut, man," and the doctor turned away to hide a mistiness in his +eyes. "She was worthy of it, and her like can't be found every day. But +come, Steve has been waiting at the door for some time, and we must be +away." + + + + +Chapter XV. + +Deepening Shadows + + +As Nellie stood at the study window the Sunday afternoon her father left +for Craig's Corner a sense of depression and loneliness stole over her. +How much longer could her father continue those hard drives, she wondered. +He was getting old. His hair was so white and his steps feeble. What was +to become of him when he could perform his beloved work no longer? She +knew very well how they were pressed for money, and how much had gone to +help Philip in his fight in British Columbia. How many things had they +gone without! Even mere common necessities had been given up. Naturally +her mind turned to the auction, and the money her father had paid down for +the farm. Four thousand dollars! Where had it come from, and why would her +father never tell her, or speak about it in her presence? How often had +she lain awake at night thinking about it all! Then to hear people more +than hinting about Billy Fletcher's gold, and what had become of it, was +at times more than she could bear. Never for a moment did she doubt her +father, but often she longed to ask him for an explanation of the mystery. +Was the money his own, or was he handling it for someone else? If so, why +should he not tell her--his only daughter--who was so dear to him? + +She was aroused by the arrival of several children from the houses nearest +the Rectory. Every Sunday afternoon Nellie found her real enjoyment with +her little class. She had known them all since their birth, and they loved +her. How longingly they looked forward to that brief Sunday gathering. +There were no harsh, strict rules here, no perfunctory opening and +closing, and no lifeless lessons droned forth in a half-rebellious spirit. +It was all joy and love. How their voices did ring as Nellie played on the +little harmonium some sweet hymn attuned to childish hearts and minds. +Then, after the lessons were over, there came the treat of the day--a +story read from one of those marvellous books kept on a shelf in a corner +all by themselves. When at last the story had been finished and the class +dispersed, Nellie locked the doors, and made her way to Vivien Nelson's. +What a hearty welcome she received from them all! To Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, +hard-working, God-fearing people, she was as their own daughter. She and +Vivien, their only child, had been playmates together at school, and their +friendship had never languished. There Nellie felt at home. She knew that +no matter what disagreeable things were being said about her father +throughout the parish, no word of reproach or blame was ever mentioned in +the Nelson home. Others might think what they liked about Parson John, but +the Nelsons had known him too long in times of sorrow and joy to believe +any evil of their old Rector. + +Here Nellie stayed until the following afternoon, and then made her way +home to have the house comfortable before her father came back. As the +evening drew near she anxiously watched for his return. She saw the dull +grey sky and knew that a storm threatened. As the darkness deepened and +the wind raved about the house, and the snow beat against the north +windows, her anxiety increased. The supper table stood ready in its snowy +whiteness; the kettle sang on the stove and the fire in the sitting-room +grate threw out its cheerful glow. It was a scene of peace and genial +comfort contrasted with the raging of the elements outside. But Nellie +thought nothing of this, for her heart was too much disturbed. Had +anything happened to her father and Dan? It was some relief to know that +the lad was along, for two were better than one should an accident occur. +Her eyes roamed often to the little clock ticking away on the +mantel-piece. Six-seven-eight-nine. The hours dragged slowly by. She tried +to read, but the words were meaningless. She picked up her needlework, but +soon laid it down again, with no heart to continue. Once more she glanced +at the clock. Ten minutes after nine. She thought it longer than that +since it had struck the hour. She arose to attend the kitchen fire, when a +loud knock upon the front door startled her. She turned back, and stood +for an instant in the centre of the room. Her heart beat fast, and her +face paled. Tramps were frequently seen in Glendow, working their way from +one place to another. At times they were impudent and tried to force an +entrance into houses. It was a likely night for them to seek shelter, and +suppose one were standing out there now! What could she, a lone woman, do? +Another rap, harder than the first, fell upon her ears. Something must be +done, and at once. Crossing the room and pausing near the door she +demanded who was there. + +"Sam Dobbins," came the reply, and Nellie breathed more freely as she +unlocked the door, opened it and admitted the visitor. + +"'Tis a blasted night," the man remarked as he tried to shake himself free +from his mantle of snow and stamped upon the floor with his great heavy +boots. "If I'd known 'twas so bad I'd never stirred one step." + +"Is anything wrong?" questioned Nellie, fearful lest Sam was the bearer of +ill news. "Have you seen my father?" + +"Your father! Isn't he home?" and the man looked his surprise. + +"No, he hasn't come yet, and I'm so uneasy." + +"Well, I declare, and to think that I have come all the way to see him, +and he's not here. When do you expect him?" + +"I expected him home before dark, but now I don't know what to think. Is +there anything I can do for you, Mr. Dobbins? Won't you take a seat?" + +"No, there's nothin' you kin do, miss. I've got to see the parson, and +only him. I hate the job, but I've got to do it. I'm the only constable in +the place, and I've got to do my duty." + +At these words a startled look came into Nellie's face. She took a step +forward and looked keenly into the man's eyes. + +"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I know you're a constable, but what do +you want of my father? Oh, please tell me, quick!" + +"Now don't get excited, Miss," Mr. Dobbins kindly replied, looking with +admiration upon the excited young figure before him. "Remember, I've +nothin' against your father. Haven't I shod every horse he had since he +came to this place, long before you were born. He's been a good customer +of mine, and I ain't got nothin' agin him. I'm only doin' my duty as a +constable." + +"But I don't understand, Mr. Dobbins. You come here to arrest my father +and----" + +"Only to serve the summons, Miss," interrupted the blacksmith. "I ain't +goin' to arrest him. He'll be asked to appear at the trial, that's all." + +"Trial! what trial?" + +"Oh, it's in connection with a cow." + +"A cow!" + +"Yes. It seems that Si Farrington's hired man, Pete Davis, was takin' away +the Stickles' only cow, when your father appeared on the scene, cut the +rope, set the cow free, and sent Joe off in a hurry. Farrington's in a +rage, and says he'll make the parson smart fer what he did. He's goin' to +take legal action, and so I've been sent to serve the summons. That's all +I know about it, Miss. I'm real sorry, but what else could I do?" + +Nellie made no reply when the man ceased. Words would not come. Her bosom +heaved, and she placed her hand to her forehead in an abstracted manner. +Her eyes were fixed full upon the constable's face, though she did not see +him. Her thoughts were away from that room, out through the storm and +darkness to an old grey-headed man battling somewhere with the tempest, +for the sake of others. What had happened? What would he think when he +reached home to find out what Farrington was doing? + +The constable shifted uneasily from one foot to the other in an +embarrassed manner before those pathetic eyes. He clutched his cap more +firmly in his hands, and shuffled towards the door. + +"Guess I'll go now, Miss," he stammered. "I'll step up the road to make a +call and come back again. Maybe your father will be home then." + +Nellie hardly heard the door open and close as the constable passed out +into the night. She stood for awhile as if dazed, then sinking into a +nearby chair she buried her face in her hands. The wind howled and roared +outside, and the snow dashed and swirled against the window. A big grey +cat rose from its position before the fire, came and rubbed its sleek fur +against her dress, and gently purred for some attention. But Nellie did +not heed it. How dark all seemed to her! One thing after another! Why were +these clouds gathering so thick over her dear father's head? It did not +seem possible that he could be kept in ignorance much longer. It was sure +to be revealed through this last trouble. + +A sound fell upon her ears which made her look quickly up. Was it the +wind? She listened with fast-beating heart. Again it came--a pathetic +whinny out in the yard. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to the back +door. She knew that call, for how often had she heard it! Midnight was +there, standing almost at the threshold. Her dim form could be seen as +Nellie peered out. She hurried forth, heedless of the pelting storm, +expecting to hear her father's voice. But no cheery greeting met her, +neither could she find the sleigh. Feeling around with her hands she felt +the trailing shafts, and the awful truth flashed upon her. An accident had +happened! And what of her father? Forgetting the horse she turned back +into the house, seized a cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and hurried +out into the storm. How the wind did roar about her as she waded and half +stumbled through the drifts, which were now filling the road. Anxiety lent +speed to her feet. She dashed on her way, and at length almost breathless +reached the Larkins' house. Upon the door she beat with her hands, and +after what seemed a long time Mr. Larkins made his appearance. + +"Nellie! Nellie!" he exclaimed in affright, as she staggered into the +room. "What in the world is the matter? Tell me, quick!" + +"F-father's--had--an--a-a-ccident. Midnight came home without the +sleigh--dragging the shafts--oh, what can we do?" + +"Do?" was the reply. "We shall do what we can! I shall harness the horses +at once, get several of the neighbors, and go in search of him. Don't +worry too much, Nellie. To be pitched out of the sleigh in the soft snow +is not so bad. No doubt we shall meet him and Dan plodding wearily along." + +This the worthy man said to calm Nellie's fears, though in his own heart +there was real anxiety, and he was not long in placing the horses fast to +the big sled. But before he left he stopped to turn Midnight into the barn +floor, threw on her blanket, and left her quietly munching a liberal +supply of hay. + +Mrs. Larkins was not long in making her appearance, and did what she could +to bring comfort to Nellie's anxious heart. She also went with her back to +the Rectory to await her husband's return. How the time did drag by! At +every wild gust of wind Nellie started and trembled. At length, however, +the faint sound of bells was heard, and scarcely had the panting, +snow-flecked horses stopped at the door ere Nellie, bare-headed, and with +a shawl over her shoulders, appeared. + +"Father, father!" she cried, as she rushed forward, and peered into the +familiar face. "Are you safe?" + +"Yes, dearie. I am home again," came the feeble response. + +"Oh, thank God!" she replied, throwing her arms around his neck, and +kissing him again and again. "What a night this has been--a horrible +nightmare!" + +"Come, lassie," demanded the doctor. "Away with you into the house. What +are you doing out here in such a storm? We'll look after your dad." + + + + +Chapter XVI + +For Sweet Love's Sake + + +All the next day the storm continued in its unabated fury. The roads were +completely blocked from fence to fence, and all sources of communication +in Glendow were cut off. Each house was a little world of its own, a +lighthouse in the midst of an ocean of snow where the long drifts piled +and curled like hungry foaming breakers. + +"This is the first holiday I've had for some time," chuckled good Doctor +Leeds as he leaned back comfortably in an easy-chair, and puffed away at +his pipe. "No one can come for me to-day, that's certain." + +Nellie, too, was glad, and as she watched the storm from the window a +feeling of relief came into her heart. + +"Dear storm," she said to herself. "How I love you to-day. You are a stern +protector, keeping out all prying eyes and malignant tongues. Mr. Dobbins +will not venture out while you are abroad, and so we will have peace a +little longer." + +Parson John passed a restless night, moaning much from the pain in his +shoulder. Towards morning, however, he passed into a comfortable sleep, +and did not wake until near noon. Nellie and the doctor had a long chat +together. He told her about the accident, and she related to him the +incident of the constable's visit to the Rectory. + +"The brute!" roared the doctor, when Nellie had finished. "Farrington's a +scoundrel! Why can't he leave decent people alone! He's always meddling +with someone. He's never happy unless he's persecuting people. Oh, I've +known him for years. And so he wants to have your father arrested, does +he, for saving the Stickles' cow?" + +"Yes," Nellie replied, "and I'm dreading the effect it will have upon my +father." + +"I see, I see," mused the doctor, while his eyes closed in a dreamy sort +of a way. "It will not be for his good, that's certain. But there's a way, +lassie, there's a way; don't forget that." + +"What do you mean, Doctor?" + +"I was just thinking what a villain Farrington is, and in what an +underhanded way he works. But he leaves a loophole every time. Let me tell +you something." + +Then the doctor leaned over, and what he said brought back the colour into +Nellie's face, and made her heart beat fast, and sent her about her +household duties with a new spirit. + +During the next night the storm cleared, and the morning sun transformed +the vast, white fields into a shining, sparkling glory. Nellie was early +astir, finished her household duties, cared for her father, who was +steadily improving, ere the doctor made his appearance. + +"I'm going to leave you in charge awhile this morning," she remarked as +the latter was eating his breakfast. "The day is bright and those large +drifts are so tempting, that I long for a snowshoe tramp. I have been in +the house so long that I must have a breath of fresh air." + +"Good!" replied the doctor. "It's just what you need. You had better make +the most of it, too, while I am here, for as soon as the roads are broken +I must be away. There are many patients to be looked after." + +"Thank you, Doctor, very much. I know father will not mind my absence for +a short time," Nellie responded, as she hurried away to make ready for her +tramp. + +A pretty figure she presented as she stood a little later before the door +and bade the doctor good-bye. Snowshoeing she loved, and she had often +travelled for miles with Stephen in the clear bracing air. But to-day she +was not on pleasure bent, and her heart beat fast as she moved on her way. +No sign of life did she see as steadily she plodded forward over the +yielding snow. An hour later when she stood before Farrington's house and +laid aside her snowshoes, her face was flushed with a healthy glow caused +by the vigorous exercise. Her courage almost failed as she knocked upon +the door, and waited for it to be opened. It was Mrs. Farrington who came, +and great was her astonishment when she found who was there. + +"Why, it's Nellie Westmore, I do declare!" she exclaimed. "Come right in, +dear, and lay your wraps aside. I'm so glad to see ye. But how in the +world did ye git here?" + +"I snowshoed all the way," was the quiet reply, "and I have come to see +Mr. Farrington. Is he in?" + +"Why certainly. He's in the store. I'll call 'im at once," and Mrs. +Farrington bustled off, wondering what in the world brought Nellie on such +a morning. + +As Farrington entered the house a few minutes later, Nellie rose to meet +him. She knew that now was the crucial moment, and a prayer went up from +her heart for guidance. She was surprised at her own calmness as she +looked into the face of the man who was causing her so much worry. + +"I'm very glad to see ye, Nellie," and Farrington stretched out a big fat +hand. "Set down, please." + +"No, thank you, Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied. "I prefer to stand. I do +not wish to keep you long. I've come to see you this morning on behalf of +my father." + +"Umph!" ejaculated Farrington, as he threw himself into an easy-chair. + +"You know," continued Nellie, "my father met with a bad accident night +before last, and is now confined to his bed, and I have come to ask you +not to let Mr. Dobbins trouble him while he is in his weak condition.. I +feel quite sure you will do this." + +"Ye want me to spare 'im, do ye?" Farrington blurted out. "Spare the man +who has injured me above measure!" + +"Indeed! And in what way?" Nellie applied. + +"In what way? do ye ask. Why, didn't he outbid me in the Frenelle +homestead? Doesn't he refuse to buy goods at my store; an' then, to cap it +all, interfered with my hired man when he went after that cow? Hev I any +right to spare 'im? Tell me that." + +"You have the right of consideration for an old man. My father is aging +fast, and any trouble worries him so much. He doesn't know about what you +intend to do, and I hope I can prevail upon you to go no further." + +Nellie's voice was low and pathetic, and she made some impression upon +Farrington, for when she had finished he did not at once reply. He sat +looking at her, thinking how pretty she was. + +"Nellie," he at length remarked, "we've allus been very fond of ye. We've +known ye ever sense ye was a baby, an' ye seem like one of our own. Ye hev +a good eddication, an' bein' a lady ye are well fitted to adorn a good +man's home. Now, our Dick is a most promisin' feller, who thinks a sight +of ye, so if ye'd consent to look upon him favourably, it ud please us all +mighty well. Besides----" + +"Mr. Farrington!" interrupted Nellie, "what do you mean? What do I +understand you to say? Do you----" + +"Wait a minute, my dear," remonstrated Farrington. "It's jist as well fer +ye to consider this reasonable proposition fust as last. Yer dad's gittin' +old now, so he can't last much longer; an' ye'll hev a home." + +"An' jist think, Nellie dear," spoke up Mrs. Farrington, "what an +advantage it'll be to ye. Richard'll inherit the hull of our property some +day. He will be a gentleman, an' the son of a gentleman, too--of a good +old fambly. It'll be a very gratifyin' thing, too, fer ye to know that +Richard's father was a Councillor of Glendow. So now, dear, give up that +uncouth Frenelle boy, an' take on with our son Richard." + +Nellie's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson now, and her eyes were +flashing with an angry light. Her heart was filled with disgust at these +cool, self-satisfied schemers. Had they been less confident of their own +importance they would have realized that they were treading on dangerous +ground. They could not comprehend that back of Nellie's quiet, reserved +demeanour there was a moral courage which would rise to any height of +self-sacrifice at the call of duty, or in defence of those she loved. They +had known her from childhood, and to natures such as theirs her gentleness +and retiring disposition were interpreted as weakness or lack of proper +spirit. To be suddenly awakened from such an idea was startling in the +extreme. + +"Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied, holding herself in check with a mighty +effort, "I am very much astonished at the words I have just heard. I came +here to talk to you as a lady would talk to a gentleman. But great is my +surprise to be insulted to my face. You have no right to speak to me as +you have done this morning, or to take such liberties as regards Stephen +Frenelle. He is a real gentleman's son, and has the true instincts of a +gentleman. We were children together, and I do not wish you to speak of +him or any friend of mine in a slighting manner. As to your remarks in +reference to your son, they are so unworthy of a father and mother that +they arouse in me the feelings of deepest pity for you. I blush to think +that you should ever suggest such a thing, and am surprised that your +better nature does not assert itself, and cause you to cover your heads in +shame for having uttered such words." + +Nellie spoke rapidly with her eyes fixed full upon Farrington's face. The +latter shifted uneasily at this torrent of words, and occasionally glanced +at his wife, who was sitting near with open-mouthed wonder. + +"Dear me, dear me!" Mrs. Farrington replied. "I allus thought ye was sich +a nice, modest little thing, an' to think that ye should go on like this. +What would yer dear mother think if she was livin'?" + +"You are a mother, Mrs. Farrington," Nellie responded, "and what would you +think if anyone made such a proposition to Eudora as you have made to me?" + +"Oh, that's a different question." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, Eudora will hev money, an' will not be left penniless, while you an' +yer father are jist dependin' upon the parish." + +"Yes, I know it only too well," Nellie bitterly answered. "We are little +more than paupers, trusting to the voluntary offerings of the people for +our support. But then, this has little to do with what I came here for. We +have wandered from the subject. I came simply to speak on behalf of my +father." + +"Oh, that matter's settled now once and fer all," Farrington replied in a +cool, matter-of-fact manner. "Ye've taken the bizness into yer own hands. +We've made ye a good offer, an' ye've refused pint blank, so we'll +consider this little affair atween us settled. Sam Dobbins is in the store +waitin' fer me, so I shall tell 'im to go ahead an' serve the summons." + +"Stop a minute," Nellie demanded, as Farrington rose to his feet, +stretched himself, and started leisurely towards the door. + +"There's something you evidently have not considered which might change +matters a little. I came here this morning trusting to get your consent to +leave my father alone without any unnecessary trouble. I appealed to your +manhood, but in vain. Now, there is only one course open to me, which I +will be obliged to take." + +"Hey, what's this?" and Farrington's brow knitted in perplexity. "I don't +understand you." + +"No, certainly you don't, but you will presently. I would like to ask who +it was you sent out after the Stickles' cow?" + +"Why, Pete, of course; my hired man. He allus does that work fer me, an' +has taken dozens of 'em at various times." + +"Yes, so I have heard," and Nellie's voice was charged with a warning +note. "But were you not afraid of the risk you were running, Mr. +Farrington?" + +"Risk? what risk? I never had any trouble. What do you mean?" + +"But is Pete a constable?" + +"A constable, be blowed! What are ye drivin' at?" + +"Did he have a warrant from a magistrate to go to the Stickles' place, +open the door, enter the barn, and try to take away that cow?" + +"N-no, certainly not. But he never had one afore, an' everything was all +right." + +"Yes, it was all right as far as you were concerned, because no one +interfered, and the people were always too poor to make a fuss. But do you +know that you have laid yourself open to a grave offence? In the eyes of +the law you tried to steal that cow from the Stickles." + +"Girl! Girl! What do ye mean by talkin' this way?" and Farrington bounded +from his chair in a rage. "Explain to me at once what ye mean by sich +words!" + +"There's nothing much to explain, Mr. Farrington. Without a warrant, or +any legal authority, you sent your servant to break into a private barn, +and lead away a cow belonging to Mr. Stickles. Because my father +interfered you wish to have him arrested. I hope you see the point." + +Farrington was certainly a study just then. His eyes glowered, and his +face was inflamed with rage. He was in a trap and he knew it. + +"Ye'll pay fer this!" he cried, stamping upon the floor, in anger. +"Ye'll--Ye'll----!" + +"Very well," Nellie calmly replied. "I've simply told you your position, +so now if you wish to go ahead, do so. You will know what to expect. +Perhaps I have been a better friend to you than you now imagine. Remember, +we have friends, who know a thing or two, and besides, if you are not +careful, something may go wrong on election day." + +"Who told you this, girl?" Farrington demanded. "Who put ye up to this +bizness?" + +"That's my own affair. I have warned you, so go ahead if you care to. I +shall say no more." + +With that she turned and walked quietly out of the house, put on her +snowshoes, and started on her homeward way. But the trying ordeal through +which she had passed told upon her. She trembled violently, and a great +weakness came over her. She felt that she would sink down upon the snow. +How could she continue? She looked all around, but no sign of life could +she behold; no one to aid her. What was she to do? She thought of her +father. Was he waiting for her, perhaps wondering where she was? With a +great effort she moved slowly forward, and presently found her strength +returning. On and on she plodded. Never had the snowshoes seemed so heavy, +or the way so long, and right glad was she to see at last the Rectory rise +up large and homelike before her. She reached the door, doffed the +snowshoes, entered the house, hurried to her own room, and throwing +herself upon her bed, wept as if her heart would break. She was tired--oh, +so tired. The tears brought a blessed relief to her surcharged feelings, +and when she at length sought her father's side a sunny smile illumined +her face, her step was firm, and little remained to show to a casual +observer the fierce struggle through which she had recently passed. + + + + +Chapter XVII + +Hitting Back + + +Farrington said very little after Nellie's departure. He even surprised +his wife by his coolness, for instead of raging, swearing and stamping +around the house he walked quietly out into the store. Here he busied +himself with various matters, and talking at times to the few customers +who straggled in. When no one was present he sat on a high stool by the +window and gazed out over the snow. He was not thinking of money now, nor +how much his eggs and butter would bring. His mind was dwelling upon that +scene which had just taken place. He thought nothing of the brave defence +Nellie had made on behalf of her father, but only of his own wounded +feelings. At times his hands would clinch, and a half-audible curse escape +his lips. He would get even, oh, yes! But how? He saw the danger of going +any further in connection with the Stickles' cow affair. He must let that +drop. There were other ways, he was sure of that; the difficulty was to +know just what to do. + +The door opened, and a tall, lanky man entered, with a pair of skates +dangling over his left shoulder. + +"Hello, Miles!" exclaimed Farrington, hurrying around to shake hands with +him. "Haven't seen you fer an age. What's the news at Craig's Corner? Set +down, you look about tuckered out." + +"Should say I was," Miles drawled forth. "Never got into such a mess in +all my life. Skated down river Sunday evening and was caught in that +blasted snowstorm, and so am footing it back." + +"Dear me, that's hard luck," and Farrington sat down upon a soap-box. +"Anyway, I'm mighty glad to see ye. Hope things are goin' well at the +Corner. Much election talk, eh?" + +"Considerable. The air's been full of it lately, but I guess Sunday's +doings will give the folks a new subject for awhile. 'Twas certainly a +stunner!" + +"Why, what do ye mean, Miles? Nobody killed, I hope." + +"What! Haven't you heard anything?" + +"No, how could I with the storm blockin' the roads." + +"Sure. I never thought of that. But I supposed the parson let it out." + +"The parson!" and Farrington's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What in +the devil has he to do with it? He was brought home night afore last with +his shoulder out of jint." + +"Whew! You don't say so! Well, I declare!" + +"Tell me what ye mean, man," exclaimed Farrington, moving impatiently on +his seat. "Let's have the yarn." + +"Ha-ha! It was a corker! Just think of it; a funeral procession moving +slowly across the river, with Tim Fraser and Parson John racing by like a +whirlwind. I never saw anything like it, ha-ha!" and Miles leaning back +laughed loud and long at the recollection. + +Farrington was all attention now. A gleam of delight shone in his eyes, +and a faint sigh of relief escaped his lips. He controlled his eagerness, +however, for he wished to draw Miles out, and learn the whole story. + +"Ye don't mean to tell me," he remarked, "that the parson was racin' on +Sunday? Surely ye must be mistaken!" + +"I'm a liar then," calmly replied the other, gazing thoughtfully down at +his boots. "Yes, I'm a liar, and a fool! Why, didn't I see the whole thing +with my own eyes? And didn't all the people of Craig's Corner see it, too? +Ask them, they'll tell you the same." + +"I don't doubt yer word, Miles, but it's so unusual. The parson never did +anything like that before, did he?" + +"Not to my knowledge. But he's mighty fond of a horse, and a fast one at +that, so I guess when Tim Fraser clipped up he couldn't resist the +temptation." + +"Did he explain about it? Did he tell how it happened?" + +"He didn't say much. I heard him tell some people that he never let the +devil get ahead of him, and he was bound he wouldn't do it that time." + +"Ho-ho! That's what he said? Nothing more?" + +"No, not that I heard. I came away after that, so nothing new has reached +me since, except what you tell me. Is he badly injured?" + +"I don't know. Guess he'll come out all right; he generally does." + +"He looked very well on Sunday. I'm really sorry he's met with this +accident." + +"Mebbe it had something to do with the race," suggested Farrington. + +"In what way?" + +"Perhaps it's a punishment fer what he did on Sunday." + +"Surely, you don't say--!" and Miles' mouth opened in surprise. + +"Oh, I don't say anything fer certain. I only know that sich things +sometimes do happen. A man who will race on the Sacred Day of Rest must +expect almost anything to happen. I've known of several sich cases. +Something generally does happen." + +"You don't say so! Well!" + +"Now honestly," continued Farrington very deliberately, "do ye think sich +a man is fit to be the minister of the Gospel in Glendow? Do ye think a +man who stands in church on Sunday an' reads them solemn words about +keepin' the Sabbath Day holy, an' then goes out on the ice an' engages in +a horse-race--do ye think sich a man is fit to teach our people? What an +example to set our children! When we tell 'em to remember the Day an' keep +it holy, they will say, 'Oh, the parson raced his horse on Sunday!' Oh, +yes, that's what they'll say. So you see what a condition the parish will +be in." + +"Well, I never thought of it that way," replied Miles, rising to his feet. +"But I must be off. I see the road is being broken." + +When the man had left the store Farrington stood for some time with his +hands clasped behind his back. He was in deep thought, and occasionally +his lips curled with a pleased smile. He then walked to the window, and +watched the men breaking the roads. He saw his own hired man, Pete Davis, +among the rest. Most of the able-bodied men of the neighbourhood were +there with shovels and teams. It was an inspiring sight to see team after +team in a long procession plowing their way forward among the high drifts. +Where the snow was light the leading horses would plunge through, blowing, +snorting, struggling, and at times almost hidden from view. In places +shovels had to be used and then cuttings, narrow and deep, were made +through the banks, just wide enough for one team to move at a time. For +hours the work had been carried on, and at length the last drift had been +conquered, and communication, from place to place once again opened up. + +Farrington watching the horses surging through was not thinking of the +fine appearance they presented. His mind was upon a far different matter. +He stood there, saw the teams swing around and finally disappear up the +road. It pleased him to see Miles riding upon one of the sleds. His ready +tongue was as good as a newspaper, and he would spread the story of the +Sunday race wherever he went. + +Mrs. Farrington was surprised at her husband's jocular manner when he was +called to dinner. He joked and laughed more than he had done in many a +day. Not a word did he say about Nellie's visit; in fact he seemed to have +forgotten all about it. + +"Ye must have done a good bizness this mornin', Si," his wife remarked. "I +haven't seen ye in sich fine spirits in a long time." + +"Haven't sold as much as usual, my dear," was the reply. "Didn't expect to +anyway, as the roads have jist been broken." + +"But ye seem very happy. Has anything remarkable occurred?" + +"Simply an idea, my dear, simply an idea." + +"Well, well, who'd a thought it. I didn't know that an idea 'ud make one +feel so good. Tell me about it, Si." + +"No, not now. I haven't time. Besides, I want to see how it'll work, an' +then I'll surprise ye." + +Farrington rose from the table, and going to the store went at once to the +small office. Here he spent some time writing, and at the end of a half +hour gave a chuckle of satisfaction, laid aside the pen, folded up the +paper and put it into his pocket. Next he went into the stable, and +ordered Pete to harness the horse and have it at the door in fifteen +minutes. At the end of that time he came from the house, wrapped in his +large fur coat, cap and mittens. Soon he was speeding over the road, +leaving Mrs. Farrington, Eudora and Dick watching him from the window, and +wondering what it all meant. + +Farrington was forth upon important business, and he knew exactly at what +houses to stop. There were the Fletchers, he was sure of them; the +Marshalls, their kinsmen; the Burtons, and several families who owed +fair-sized bills at the store, and would be unable to pay for some time. + +The sun was dipping big and red far westward when Farrington turned his +horse's head homeward. He was well pleased with his afternoon's work. No +one had refused to sign the petition he carried, and over twenty names had +been scrawled upon the paper. + +As he moved along his eyes rested upon a little cottage away to the right, +nestling near a grove of large maple trees. Old Henry Burchill, the +wood-chopper, lived there. Farrington's brows knitted as he thought of +him. Would he sign the paper? He knew that Henry was once opposed to the +parson for introducing certain things into the church. But then that was +long ago, and he wondered how the old man felt now. Anyway there was that +unpaid bill at the store. It would have some weight, and it was no harm to +try. + +Mrs. Burchill was at home, and was surprised to see the storekeeper enter +the house. She was a quiet, reserved woman, who mingled little with her +neighbours. The lines of care upon her face, the bent back and the +toil-worn hands told their own tale of a long, hard battle for life's bare +necessities. Her heart beat fast as she shook hands with her visitor, for +she, too, thought of that bill at the store, which she and her husband had +been bravely striving to pay. + +"Is yer husband at home, Mrs. Burchill?" asked Farrington, seating himself +on a splint-bottomed chair. + +"No, sir. He's in the woods chopping for Stephen. I'm afraid he won't be +home to-night." + +"Dear me! that's too bad," and Farrington brought forth the paper from his +pocket. "I wanted 'im to do a little favour fer me--simply to put his name +to this pertition. But, if you'll do it, 'twill be jist the same," and he +handed over the paper. + +Mrs. Burchill put on her glasses, and slowly and carefully read the words +written there. Farrington watched her closely and noted the colour +mounting to her faded cheeks, and the look of reproach in her eyes as she +at length turned them upon his face. + +"And you expect me to put my name to this?" she demanded. + +"An' why not?" smiled Farrington. "Have you read what the paper sez?" + +"Yes, every word." + +"An' don't ye think there's a reason why ye should sign it? Don't ye think +the Bishop should know what kind of a parson we have?" + +"Mr. Farrington," and Mrs. Burchill spoke very deliberately, "if the Angel +Gabriel himself came with that paper for me to sign I should refuse. I'm +an old woman now, and why should I commit such a sin in my declining +years?" + +"Sin! what sin would ye commit in simply signin' that paper?" Farrington +demanded. + +Mrs. Burchill did not reply at once, but placing her hand upon a Bible +lying by her side she reverently opened it. + +"Listen to these words," she said. "They are not mine, remember, but the +Lord's. 'Touch not mine anointed,' He says, 'and do my prophets no harm.' +Now Parson John is one of the Lord's anointed, set apart for a sacred +work, and it's a dangerous thing to strive against Him." + +"Tut, tut, woman! That's all rubbish! Them things happened in olden days. +Besides, we have a just grievance. He is interferin' too much with the +affairs of others. He takes too much upon himself. Then, what about that +race on Sunday? Do ye think we should stand that?" + +"Ah, sir, it's the same old story. Don't you remember how people said the +very same thing about Moses and Aaron, long, long ago. They said that +those two men were taking too much upon them, and a rebellion ensued. And +what was the result? The Lord punished the people, the earth opened and +swallowed them up. I often read that story to Henry in the evenings, and +it makes us feel very serious. Oh, yes, it's a dangerous thing to +interfere with the Lord's anointed. Something's bound to happen to the +ones who do it." + +Farrington could stand this no longer. He had met with such success during +the afternoon that to hear this rebuke from Mrs. Burchill was most +annoying. + +"Woman!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I don't want to hear all this. +I didn't come here to be preached to about sich old-fashioned trash as the +'Lord's anointed!' I came here to git ye to sign that paper, an' not to be +preached to! Will ye sign it or will ye not?" + +"No, I shall not sign it!" was the quiet response. + +"Very well, then, that's all I want to know. But remember, Mrs. Burchill, +there's a little unpaid account on my books against your husband. Please +tell 'im to call and settle it at once. If not--oh, well you know the +result," and Farrington looked significantly around the room. "So, +good-day. I must be off." + +Mrs. Burchill stood at the window and watched Farrington drive away. Then +a sigh escaped her lips. She went back to the chair where she had been +sitting, and kneeling down buried her face in her hands. For some time she +remained in prayer, but her earnest pleadings were not for herself or her +husband, but for the old grey-headed man--the Venerable Rector of Glendow. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +Wash-Tub Philosophy + + +"I've been up to me neck in soap-suds ever sense daybreak, an' I ain't +done yit." + +So declared Mrs. Stickles as she wiped her hands upon her apron and +offered a chair to her visitor, Betsy McKrigger. + +"I'm rale glad to see ye, nevertheless," she continued, "fer it's been a +month of Sundays sense I sot eyes on ye last. How've ye been? An' yer old +man, is he well?" + +"Only fairly," replied Mrs. McKrigger, laying aside her bonnet and shawl, +and taking the proffered chair. "Abraham went to the mill this mornin' an' +I came this fer with 'im. We were clean out of flour, an', although the +roads are bad, there was no help fer it, so he had to go, poorly as he is. +He'll stop fer me on his way back." + +"An' what's wrong with 'im?" asked Mrs. Stickles, going back to her +washing. + +"The doctor thinks he's got delapitation of the heart. Abraham was never +very strong there, and suffers most after eatin'. I'm gittin' very nervous +about 'im." + +"Oh, is that all?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work. "I wouldn't worry +about that. Mebbe he eats too much. Men's hearts an' stummicks are purty +closely kernected, an' what affects the one affects t'other. It's +indisgestion the man's got-that's what 'tis. It's a wonder to me they +don't all hev it." + +"Mebbe yer right, Mrs. Stickles. 'Abraham is certainly a big eater. But it +wasn't eatin' which gave 'im the delapitation yesterday." + +"What was it, then?" + +"It was Si Farrington who gave it to 'im. That's who it was." + +"Ugh!" ejaculated Mrs. Stickles. "Surely a cur like that wouldn't affect +anyone, would it? I'm jist waitin' to run agin Farrington meself, an' then +we'll see who'll hev palputation of the heart. It'll not be me, I reckon." + +"It's very true what ye say," replied Mrs. McKrigger, bringing forth her +knitting, "but when ye owe the man a bill at the store, an' heven't the +money to pay, it makes a big difference." + +"So he's been at you, has he? I s'pose he's been tryin' to git yer cow, +horse or farm. He tried it here, but Parson John, bless his soul, soon +stopped that." + +"No, not like that. He only hinted what he'd do if Abraham didn't sign the +pertition." + +"Oh, I see. He's goin' to run fer councillor, an' wanted yer husband to +sign his denomination paper, did he?" + +"No, no, not that. It's about the parson." + +"What! Parson John?" + +"Yes, it's about 'im, poor man." + +"Land sakes! What's up now?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work and +stood with arms akimbo. + +"Farrington thinks the parson's too old fer the work, an' that we should +hev a young man with snap an' vim, like Mr. Sparks, of Leedsville. He +believes the young people need to be stirred up; that they're gittin' +tired of the old humdrum way, an' that the parish is goin' to the dogs. +But that wasn't all. He thinks the parson isn't a fit man to be here after +that disgraceful racin' scene on the river last Sunday. He sez it's an +awful example to the young. So he's gittin' up the pertition to send to +the Bishop." + +Mrs. Stickles had left the wash-tub now and was standing before her +visitor. Anger was expressed in her every movement. + +"An' do ye tell me!" she demanded, "that yer husband signed that paper?" + +"W-what else was there to do?" and Mrs. McKrigger dropped her knitting and +shrank back from the irate form before her. "How could he help it?" + +"Betsy McKrigger, I never thought ye'd come to this. Help it! Why didn't +yer husband help Farrington out of the door with the toe of his boot?" + +"But think of that unpaid bill, Mrs. Stickles." + +"Unpaid bill, be fiddlesticks! Would ye turn aginst yer best earthly +friend fer the sake of a bill?" + +"What else could we do?" + +"Do? Let yer cow or anything else go! What do sich things amount to when +yer honour's at stake. Dear me, dear me! has it come to this?" + +"Ye needn't make sich a fuss about the matter," and Mrs. McKrigger +bristled up a bit. "It's a purty serious thing when yer whole livin's in +the fryin'-pan." + +"Livin', livin'! Where does yer livin' come from anyway, Mrs. McKrigger? +Doesn't the Lord send it? I reckon He'll look after us. Didn't He tend to +old 'Lijah when he done his duty. Didn't the ravens feed 'im? An' what +about that widee of Jerrypath? Didn't her meal and ile last when she done +what was right? Tell me that!" + +"Oh, yes, that may be as ye say. I ain't botherin' about old 'Lijah an' +that widow. If them people lived to-day they'd jine forces an' start the +biggest flour an' ile company the world has ever seen. I wish 'Lijah 'ud +come our way some day, fer me an' Abraham hev often scraped the bottom of +the flour barrel an' poured out the last drop of ile, not knowin' where +any more was comin' from." + +"Tut, tut, woman!" remonstrated Mrs. Stickles. "It's wrong fer ye to talk +that way. Hev ye ever really wanted? Didn't the flour and the ile come +somehow? Whenever we're scrapin' the bottom of the barrel it seems that +the Lord allus hears us, and doesn't let us want. I guess, if we stan' by +the Lord, He'll stan' by us. I'm mighty sorry yer man signed that +pertition aginst that man of God. It don't seem right nohow." + +"I'm not worryin' about that, Mrs. Stickles. Farrington has considerable +right on his side. The parson is old. We do need a young man with snap an' +vim. The parson's sermints are too dry an' deep. Abraham sleeps right +through 'em, an' says it's impossible to keep awake." + +"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Stickles held up her hands in amazement. "To +think that I should live to hear sich words in me own house. Ye say the +parson's too old. Ain't ye ashamed of them words? Too old! D'ye want some +new dapper little snob spoutin' from the pulpit who hasn't as much +knowledge in his hull body as Parson John has in his little finger? I know +there's many a thing the parson talks about that I can't understan', an' +so there is in the Bible. I often talk the matter over with John. 'John,' +sez I, 'Ye recollect when ye was makin' that wardrobe fer me out in the +shed two springs ago?' + +"'Well,' sez he. + +"'An' ye remember how the children used to watch ye an' wonder what ye was +makin'!' + +"'Sartinly,' sez he. + +"'An' how they used to pick up the shavin's ye planed off, an' brung them +inter the house.' + +"He kalkerlated he did. + +"'Well then,' sez I, 'John, them children didn't understan' what ye was +makin', but they could pick up the shavin's an' make use of 'em. So when +Parson John is preachin' an' I can't altogether foller him, I kin pick up +somethin' here an' thar which I do understand, an' them are the shavin's +which I kin use, an' do use. Oh! John,' sez I, 'hasn't the parson been +droppin' shavin's fer over thirty years, an' not allus in the pulpit +either, an' haven't we ben helped 'cause we picked 'em up an' made 'em our +own?' John said I was right, an' he knows, dear soul." + +"That may be all very well fer you an' John," replied Mrs. McKrigger, "but +what about the young people, an' the older ones fer all that, who won't +pick up the shavin's? Farrington sez we want a poplar young man who kin +speak without any preparation, like Mr. Dale, the missionary who was here +last summer. Now, there was a man up to whom the young men could look, a +reglar soldier, who had been in the fight in Africy, had lived among +lions, tagers and niggers. He was a hero, an' if we could git a rale live +missionary like that, he'd make Glendow hum, an' the old church 'ud be +packed to the doors every Sunday. It's them missionaries who has the hard +time. Oh, they're wonderful people. Parson John's a good man, but he ain't +in the same line with them nohow. He's too commonplace, an' don't stir the +people up." + +For a while Mrs. Stickles did not reply. She wiped her hands on her apron, +and crossing the room took down a small pot, put in a little tea, filled +it with water, and set it on the back of the stove to draw. Next she +brought forth some large frosted doughnuts, and after she had poured a cup +of tea for Mrs. McKrigger and one for herself she sat down upon an old +splint-bottomed chair. + +"Did I ever tell ye the conversation I had with Mr. Dale, that missionary +from Africy?" she at length asked. + +"No, I never heerd it," came the reply. + +"Well, that's queer, an' it happened only last summer, too. Ye see, we all +went to the missionary meetin' in the church, an' Mr. Dale told us about +that furren land. Somehow I didn't take to the man, an' I liked 'im less +as he went on. All the time he was speakin' I noted how eagerly Parson +John listened. Often his buzum heaved-like, an' I thought I heerd 'im +sigh. But when the speaker 'gun to compare Africy with Canada and Glendow, +I got mad. 'Here the work is small,' sez he; 'thar it's mighty! Here ye +hev yer hundreds; thar we hev our thousands. Here things is easy; thar +hard.' As he talked on that way I looked at the parson an' saw a pained +expression on his dear face. I jist longed to jump to me feet, an' pint +out that old grey-headed man a sittin' thar, an' tell a few things I know. +But I got me chance later." + +"What! ye didn't say anything hard, I hope?" interrupted Mrs. McKrigger. + +"Only the plain truth; jist what he needed. Ye see, me an' John was axed +into the Rectory afterwards to meet the missionary an' hev a cup of tea. +Mr. Dale did most of the talkin', an' told us a hull lot more about his +experiences in Africy. But somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He had +little use fer Canada, an' said so, an' that was mor'n I could stan'. + +"'Mr. Dale,' sez I, speakin' up, when his jaw stopped waggin' fer an +instant. 'Would ye be willin' to leave yer present field of labour?' + +"'No,' sez he, lookin' at me surprised-like.' + +"'An' why not,' sez I. + +"'Oh the work is so inspirin' out thar,' sez he. 'I'd about die in a--a--' +(I think he was goin' to say a country parish like this) but he said +'settled field whar the work is so quiet, ye know.' + +"'An' ye wouldn't be willin' to give up Africy,' sez I, 'fer a poor parish +like Glendow, if thar was no clergyman here?' + +"'No,' sez he, in a hesitatin' way, fer he didn't seem to know what I was +a drivin' at. + +"'Exactly so, Mr. Dale,' sez I. 'It takes a heap of spunk, I reckon, to go +to them furren fields, but I kalkerlate it often takes jist as much to +stay to hum, feed pigs, hens, an' look after a hull batch of children. +I've hearn men preach about sacryfice in big churches, but I generally +find that, when a poor country parish gits vacant, they don't seem +inclined to give up their rich churches an' step into a humbler place. Yet +sometimes I've heerd of sich men goin' to furren fields. An' why is that, +Mr. Dale?' + +"'That they might do more work fer the Master,' sez he. + +"'I think yer wrong thar,' sez I. 'Now, look here. To enter a country +parish is to be almost unknown, an' people say, 'Oh, he's only a country +parson,' an' they stick up their ugly noses, which they think are +acristocat. But let a man go to a furren field, an', my lands! they +blubber over 'im an' make a great fuss. If he combs the head of a little +nigger brat out thar in Africy--though no doubt he needs it--why the +missionary magazines an' papers are full of it. If he pulls the tooth of +an old Injun chief who has a dozen wives taggin' around after 'im, the +people hold up thar hands in wonder, an' call 'im a hero. But let a man +stay at hum in a parish like Glendow, an' no one hears of his doin's, +cause they don't want to.'" + +"My! ye didn't say all that?" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, "an' to a rale +live missionary, too." + +"Them's the exact words I said, an' them ain't all," rattled on Mrs. +Stickles. "I had me tongue on 'im then, an' it did me good to see his +face. He looked once towards the door as if he thought I'd jump at 'im. +Oh, it was as good as a circus to see 'im shake," and she laughed at the +recollection of it. + +"'Remember,' sez I, 'I ain't got nuthin' agin furren missions, fer they do +a heap of good. But I would like to see things levelled up a bit. If I git +down on me knees an' scrub the floor, it's nuthin' thought of. But if a +missionary does it, a great fuss is made. When Parson John is dug out of +snow-banks every week, when his sleigh gits upsot an' throws 'im into the +ditch, no one outside the parish ever hears of it. But let sich things +happen to a furren missionary, an', my lands! it's wonderful.' + +"I could see all the time that Mr. Dale was gittin' excited an' excititer. + +"'Woman,' sez he in a lofty kind of way, which reminded me of a young +rooster tryin' to crow, 'do ye realize what yer talkin' about? Do ye know +yer treadin' on delicate ground?' + +"'Yes,' sez I, 'when I tread on a man's toes, it's purty delicate ground.' + +"'I don't mean that,' sez he. 'But do ye know that _I'm_ a +missionary, an' do ye know what it means to be away from hum seven years, +away in a furren land?' + +"'Yes,' sez I. 'It means a holiday of a hull year at the end, with yer +salary goin' on, an' yer travellin' expenses paid. D'ye think, Mr. Dale, +that the parson here ever gits sich a holiday? Y'bet yer life he doesn't. +He's been here workin' like a slave fer over thirty years now, an' in all +that time _he_ never had a holiday.' + +"At that the parson himself speaks up. 'I think yer wrong thar, Mrs. +Stickles,' sez he. 'I had two hull weeks once, fer which I've allus been +most thankful.' + +"'An what are two weeks?' sez I. 'An' didn't ye pay yer own travellin' +expenses?' + +"'Yes,' sez he, 'I did.' + +"'Thar now,' sez I to Mr. Dale. 'What d'ye think of that? Two weeks in +over thirty years of hard work!' But that reminds me of somethin' +else--an', sez I, 'Who pays yer salary, Mr. Dale? D'ye mind tellin' me +that?' + +"'The Mission Board' sez he. + +"'An' do ye git it reglar?' sez I. + +"'Every month,' sez he. + +"'I thought so,' sez I. 'An' d'ye think the parson here gits his every +month?' + +"'I don't know,' sez he. 'But s'pose he does.' + +"'Not by a long chalk,' sez I. 'He has to wait months an' months fer it, +an' sometimes he doesn't git it at all, an' then has to take hay an' oats, +or do without. I know that to be a fact. Old skinflint Reeker over thar +owed two dollars one year to the church, an' he wondered how in the world +he was to git out of payin' it. Durin' the summer a Sunday-school picnic +was held on his place back in his grove, an' fer one of the games the +parson cut down four little beeches about as big as canes. Thar was +thousands of 'em growin' around, an' wasn't worth a postage-stamp. But old +Reeker saw 'im cut 'em, an' the next day he went to the parson an' told +'im how vallable the beeches was--his fancy trees or somethin' like +that--an' charged 'im fifty cents a piece, the amount he owed to the +church. "Wasn't that so, Parson?" sez I, turnin' to 'im.' + +"'Yes, yes,' sez he. 'But it ain't worth speakin' about now. I think we +had better have our cup of tea, an' talk no more about the subject.'" + +"Dear, good man," and Mrs. Stickles wiped her eyes with the corner of her +apron. "He was kinder upsot at what I said. But not so, Nellie. Her sweet +face jist beamed on me, an' when I went out into the kitchen to help her +she put her arms about me old neck, an' gave me a good big thumpin' kiss. +That's what she did." + +Scarcely had Mrs. Stickles ended, ere bells were heard outside. + +"Why, I declare, if Abraham ain't back already!" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, +rising to her feet and donning her hat and wraps. "He's made a quick trip. +I'm very grateful, indeed I am, fer the cup of tea an' the pleasant time +I've had. Ye must come to see me as soon as ye kin." + +Mrs. Stickles stood for some time at the window watching the McKriggers +driving away. She was thinking deeply, and a plan was being evolved in her +mind which made her forget her washing and the various household duties. +At length she turned and entered the room where her husband and little +Ruth were lying. + +"John," she said, after she had related to him what Mrs. McKrigger had +told her about Farrington and the petition, "d'ye think you an' Ruthie +will mind if me an' Sammy go into the shore this afternoon with old +Queen?" + +"Why no, dear," was the reply. "But don't ye think the roads are too bad, +an' besides, what are ye thinkin' of?" + +"I don't mind the roads, John. They're purty well smashed down by now, an' +Queen's very stidy. I've a plan, John, which comes right from me insides," +and leaning over she whispered it into his ear. + +"Land sakes, dear!" replied her husband. "D'ye think ye kin manage it? +Will they listen to ye? Ye're only a woman, remember, an' what kin a woman +do?" + +"Yes, I'm only a woman, John, an' mebbe 'tain't a woman's place. But when +men are too scart an' heven't as much spunk as a chicken jist outer the +shell, what else is thar to do? Is thar no one in the hull parish to stan' +up fer the Lord's anointed? Tell me that. Didn't that beautiful Queen +Ester stan' before her crank of a husband, Hazen Hearus, an' plead fer the +lives of her people? An' didn't Jael do the Lord's will when she put old +Sirseree outer the way, tell me that? Now, I ain't a queen like Ester, an' +I hope I ain't a woman like Jael that 'ud drive a nail through a man's +head. I'm jist plain old Marthy Stickles, but mebbe I kin do somethin' fer +the Lord, even if I ain't purty or clever." + +An hour later an old, lean horse fastened to a homemade pung was wending +its way slowly along the road leading to the river. Holding the reins was +Sammy, a queer little figure, wrapped from head to foot, bravely +maintaining his precarious position on six inches of the end of the board +seat. Towering above him, broad-shouldered and ponderous, sat Mrs. +Stickles, the very embodiment of health and strength. + +"Sammy," said she, as the sled lurched along the rough road, "I don't like +this bizness. But when the Lord's work's to be did, somebody's got to set +his face like flint, as the Bible sez, an' do it. Don't ye ever fergit +that, Sammy. Don't ye ever disremember that yer ma told ye." + + + + +Chapter XIX + +The Sting + + +The buzz of gossip once more filled the air of Glendow. This last affray +between Parson John and Farrington and the part Nellie had taken gave +greater scope to the numerous busy tongues. Up and down the shore road and +throughout the back settlements the news travelled. It was discussed at +the store, the blacksmith shop, the mill, and in the homes at night, +wherever a few were gathered together. The Fletchers had never been idle +since the night of old Billy's death. They stirred up others by various +stories and conjectures, fashioned in their own suspicious minds. "Why," +they asked, "did not the parson explain about that money he paid down for +the Frenelle homestead? How was it that a poor country parson was able to +buy such a farm? They were further incensed by an incident which happened +several weeks after the auction. Tom Fletcher was determined that he would +question the parson some day, in the presence of others. He prided himself +upon his keenness of observation and shrewdness in detecting a guilty +manner in those whom he suspected of wrong-doing. The first opportunity he +seized when he met the parson at the blacksmith shop, waiting for his +horse to be shod. + +"Well, Parson, are ye goin' to sell the farm?" he asked in a sort of +careless manner. + +"What farm?" was the reply. + +"Oh, the Frenelle place." + +"No; it's not for sale." + +"Well, is that so? Money's tight these times, an' I thought mebbe ye'd be +glad to get rid of it." + +"No. I'm not anxious to do so." + +"But, isn't it a heap of money to be tied up in one place? Mebbe ye'd give +us a hint how ye manage to do it. It's as much as us poor farmers kin do +to live, let alone put four thousand in a place which we don't intend to +use!" + +Tom tipped a wink to several others in the shop, as much as to say, "Now, +I've cornered him. Watch for the fun." Parson John saw the wink, and drew +himself suddenly up. He realized that the man was drawing him out for some +purpose, and it was as well to check him first as last. + +"Tom, do you mind," he asked, "if I put one question to you?" + +"Why, certainly not. Drive ahead." + +"It's concerning that Widow Tompkins' place. Perhaps you will tell us how +you got control of it? Such a thing doesn't happen every day." + +Across Tom's face spread an angry flush, while a half-suppressed laugh was +heard from the bystanders. All knew very well that Tom had cheated the +widow out of her property, though no one ever had the courage to mention +it to him before. + +"What do you mean by that question?" demanded Fletcher. + +"It's a simple one, though, is it not?" the parson quietly responded. "It +naturally makes us curious." + +"Then I'll not satisfy such d---- curiosity. I tend my own affairs, an' I +ax others to do the same." + +"That's just the point, Tom," and the parson looked him square in the +eyes. "You wish to be let alone with your business, and so do I. You don't +wish to satisfy idle curiosity with your affairs, and neither do I. So we +are quits." + +This incident only caused the Fletchers to hate the parson more than ever. +Their greatest ally was Farrington. He was a man of considerable means, +and to have his support meant much. Never before was he known to be so +liberal to the people who came to his store. Often he invited them into +his house to sup with him, and then the grievances and election matters +were thrashed out. Occasionally when a farmer came to make purchases, +Farrington would see that a present was bestowed in the form of a piece of +calico for the wife, or some candy for the children. This was done +especially when Farrington was not sure of his man. He was playing his +part, not only stirring up these men against the man of God, but also +ingratiating himself into their good wishes against the day of the +election. When Farrington entered the field as a candidate for the County +Council, he knew he would have a hard struggle against his opponent, +Philip Gadsby, who was a man much respected, and had occupied the position +of councillor with considerable credit for two terms. The storekeeper had +been hard at work for some time with no visible success, for the +Farrington family with their high-flown ideas were much disliked by the +quiet, humble-minded folk of Glendow. The idea, therefore, of him being +Ifteir representative was at first abhorrent to most of the people. But +this new ruse of Farrington's was proving most successful. The Fletchers +drew with them all the loud-talking and undesirable element of Glendow. +This Farrington well knew, and by espousing their cause he was greatly +strengthening his own. The election day was only a few weeks off, so +Farrington and his party had no time to lose. + +During all this buzz of gossip, Parson John, the man most vitally +concerned, was perfectly oblivious of the disturbance. Of a most +unsuspecting nature, and with rot a particle of guile in his honest heart, +he could not imagine anyone harming him by word or deed. Happy in his +work, happy in the midst of his flock, and with his pleasant little home +guarded by his bright housekeeper, he had no thought of trouble. To his +eyes the sky was clear. His humble daily tasks brought him comfort through +the day, and sweet, undisturbed rest by night. + +But with Nellie it was different. She heard what her father did not. +Fragments of gossip drifted to her ears, which paled her cheek and set her +heart beating fast. Occasionally Dan bore her news he had picked up at the +store, or from the boys of the neighbourhood, who were not slow in talking +of the things they had heard from their elders. Nellie longed to tell her +father, that he might be able to answer some of the charges which were +made. Several times had she determined to do so. But when she had looked +upon his calm face, noted his white hair, and gazed into his clear, +unsuspecting eyes, her resolution always took wings and disappeared. Then +she would surprise her father by twining her arms about his neck and +giving him a loving kiss. + +Two weeks had now passed since the accident, and Parson John was rapidly +improving. Two Sundays had he missed from church, something which had +happened but once before in his long ministry in the parish. Winter was +passing, and signs of spring were beginning to be seen and felt. The snow +was steadily disappearing from the hills, and the fresh, balmy air drifted +gently in from the south with its exhilarating influence. + +It was Saturday night, and Parson John was looking forward to the morrow, +when he could take his accustomed place at the parish church. He and +Nellie were sitting quietly in the little room, when Mr. Larkins entered +with the mail. The postman had met with an accident on the icy road, and +was several hours behind time. Usually Dan went to the office, but on this +occasion Mr. Larkins was down to the store, and had brought along the mail +for both families. + +"Letters for us!" Nellie exclaimed as Mr. Larkins entered. "Oh, how good +of you to bring them!" + +"Stay, stay," insisted the parson, as the worthy neighbour was about to +retire and leave them to the enjoyment of their letters. "You have not had +a whiff with me for a long time, and here is a new church-warden waiting +to be broken in." + +"But, I shall interrupt you," Mr. Larkins replied. + +"No, no, not in the least." + +"Well, then, I agree to remain for one smoke, if you will promise that you +will read your letters, and not mind me. I see a new magazine on the table +which looks very tempting." + +Ensconced in a large easy-chair, he was soon deeply immersed in the +fascinating pages, at the same time endeavouring to enjoy the long +"church-warden," which was not altogether to his taste. Silence reigned in +the room, broken only by the cutting of envelopes and the occasional +rattle of the letters. + +Mr. Larkins was startled by a sudden cry of astonishment, and looking +quickly up he saw the parson sitting erect in his chair, clutching a sheet +of paper in both hands, and staring at it in a dazed manner. Nellie at +once sprang to his side to ascertain the cause of the commotion. + +"Look! Look!" he cried, thrusting the paper into her hand. "It's from the +Bishop! Read it, quick, and tell me what it means! Am I losing my senses, +or is this only a dream, or a joke?" + +Although Nellie's face was pale as she sprang to her father's side, it +went white as death as she quickly scanned the missive, drinking in almost +intuitively every word and its meaning. Then, flinging it aside with an +impatient gesture, she placed her arms about her father's neck, and tried +to soothe him. + +"Father, father, dear, never mind," she pleaded. But her voice faltered, +and she simply clung to him like a tender vine to some sturdy oak. + +"Girl! girl!" demanded the parson, "what does it mean? Do you know +anything? Tell me, quick!" + +"Father, father," urged the maiden, "calm yourself. Don't get so excited." + +"But, do you know anything about this? Tell me at once!" + +"Yes---" + +"Yes, what? Don't stop. Go on," and the old man leaned forward so as not +to miss a single word. + +"Oh, father, give me time," sobbed Nellie. "I will explain all. What will +Mr. Larking think?" + +"True, true. What will he think?" and the parson turned towards his +visitor. + +"You will pardon me, sir, for acting so strangely. But I am much upset. +There, please, read this. A letter from my Bishop, full of the most +remarkable utterances a man ever wrote. My people turned against me! My +people charging me with being a common thief! No, no! It cannot be true! +Read it--read it for yourself," and with a trembling hand he passed over +the letter. + +"My dear Westmore," so began the epistle. "What is the trouble between you +and your parishioners in Glendow? I have recently received a petition +signed by twenty of your people asking for your removal, on the following +grounds: + +"_First_. That you are too old to do the work; that many parts of the +parish are being neglected, and that a young man should take your place, +who will be able to hold the flock together. + +"_Second_. That you alone attended the deathbed of an old man, +William Fletcher by name, who was possessed of a considerable sum of +money, all in gold. The money, it is well known, was always kept in the +house in a strong, iron box. The night you attended him the house was +burned to the ground, but no trace of the money has since been found. Even +at the time you were suspected by some, as it was well known you were much +involved in some mining transactions out in British Columbia and badly in +need of money to carry on the work. But not until shortly after the fire, +when at a public auction you purchased a large homestead and paid down the +amount, four thousand dollars, in cash, did the whole parish suspect that +something was radically wrong. + +"_Third_. That on your way to attend a funeral at Craig's Corner on a +recent Sunday, you engaged in a horse-race with one, Tim Fraser, a most +notorious character. + +"Such in brief is the purport of the petition which now lies before me, +and I am asked not only to remove you, but to make a thorough +investigation concerning the whole affair. I am much grieved at this +matter, and cannot understand it at all. You have ever been looked upon as +a faithful priest in the Church of God, and I believe you will be able to +explain everything to the satisfaction of all. At first I thought it well +that you should write to me. On second consideration, however, I think it +better to make a visit to Glendow, and see if the matter cannot be quietly +settled. I do not wish this trouble to get abroad or into the newspapers. +I wish to have the people of the parish come before me, one by one, that I +may hear what they have to say, and thus be in a better position to form a +sound judgment. I have written the petitioners to this effect, and have +told them that I shall be in the vestry of the church next Thursday, +morning and afternoon, to hear what they have to say. I have also written +to your wardens--whose names, by the way, do not appear on the +petition--stating the case, that they may give due notice throughout the +parish." + +Silently Mr. Larkins returned the letter, not knowing what to say. + +"What does it all mean?" questioned the parson, looking keenly into his +neighbour's face. "Am I only dreaming, or is it a joke?" + +"Neither, father, dear," Nellie replied, taking a seat near his side, and +tenderly clasping his hand, which was trembling with excitement. "It is +all real, ah, too real! The people have been saying these things." + +"What, girl! Do you mean to tell me that these things have been talked +about ever since the night of the fire?" demanded the parson. + +"Yes, father, some have been saying them." + +"And you knew about these stories, Nellie?" + +"Y--yes, some of them." + +"And you never said a word to me! Never gave me a hint of warning, but let +me remain in ignorance the whole of this time!" + +"We thought it was for the best, father. Don't get angry with me. I +suppose I should have told you, but I thought the gossip would soon +cease." + +"You thought so, did you! Girl, I didn't think you would deceive me--your +father, in his old age! Have all my friends turned against me? Yes, yes, +and even she, of my flesh and blood--the darling of my heart for whom I +would die! God help me!" + +"Father, father, dear! don't talk that way," pleaded Nellie. "You will +break my heart. You don't know what I have suffered. Day and night the +trouble has been with me. I loved you so much that I wished to spare you +the worry. I thought it was for the best, but now I see I should have told +you. You have friends, true and tried, who do not believe a word of these +charges." + +The parson who had been gazing straight before him, rested his eyes upon +his daughter weeping by his side. His face softened, and the old look +returned. + +"Forgive me, darling," he said, placing his arm tenderly about her. "I +have wronged you and all my dear friends. But, oh, the blow is so sudden! +I hardly know what to think. What can I do?" + +For over an hour they sat there and discussed the matter. As Mr. Larkins +at length rose to go, he looked into Parson John's face so drawn and +white, and almost cursed the wretches who had brought such trouble upon +that hoary head. + + + + +Chapter XX + +The Overseer + + +The service at the parish church Sunday morning was largely attended. Word +had spread rapidly that the Bishop would arrive during the week, and it +was confidently expected that the parson would touch on the question from +the pulpit. + +"Guess we'll git something to-day," one man remarked to another, near the +church door. + +"Y'bet," was the brief response. + +"D'ye think the parson will say anything about old Billy?" + +"Mebbe he will, an' mebbe he won't." + +"But I think he will. The parson likes to hit from the pulpit when no one +kin hit back." + +"Is that what brought you to church to-day? You seldom darken the door." + +"Sure! What else should I come fer? I'm not like you, Bill Flanders, +wearin' out me shoes paddin' to church every Sunday. I kin be jist as good +a Christian an' stay at home. I kin read me Bible an' say me prayers +there." + +"I'm not denying that, Bill, but the question is, Do ye? I reckon ye never +open yer Bible or say yer prayers either fer that matter. If you were in +the habit of doin' so you never would hev signed that petition to the +Bishop." + +"Well, I'm not alone in that. There's Farrington, a church member an' a +communicant, who headed the list, an' if he----" + +"Hold, right there, Bill. Farrington never signed that paper." + +"Yes, he did." + +"But, I say, he didn't. He promised to do so, but jist after he sent it +away he made a fuss an' said that he had fergotten to do it." + +"Ye don't say so!" and Bill's eyes opened wide with surprise. "But are ye +sure?" + +"Sartin. I had it from Tom Fletcher himself, who feels rather sore about +it. It is well known that Farrington wanted the parson removed on the plea +of old age, but didn't want that clause in about Billy's death. The +Fletchers insisted, however, an' in it went." + +"The devil! Well, it's queer, I do declare." + +Just then the bell rang out its last call, and they entered the church +with others. + +Parson John looked greyer than usual as he conducted the service and stood +at the lectern to read the Lessons. But his voice was as sweet and musical +as ever, though now a note of pathos could be detected. His step was slow +and feeble as he mounted the pulpit, and a yearning look came into his +face as he glanced over the rows of heads before him. + +"Remember my bonds," was the text he took this morning, and without a note +to guide him, he looked into the numerous faces, and delivered his brief +message. A breathless silence pervaded the sanctuary as he proceeded to +draw a picture of St. Paul, the great champion of the faith, in his old +age enduring affliction, and appealing to his flock to remember his bonds. +The arm of the parson still in the sling, and the knowledge the people had +of the reports circulated about him, added much to the intense +impressiveness of the scene. For about fifteen minutes he spoke in a +clear, steady voice. Then his right hand clutched the top of the pulpit, +while his voice sank and faltered. "Brethren," he said, straightening +himself up with an effort, "St. Paul had his bonds, which were hard for +him to bear; the bond of suffering, the bond of loneliness, and the bond +of old age. You, too, have bonds, and will have them. But how sweet to +know that your friends and loved ones will remember your bonds, will +understand your sufferings, peculiarities, and will sympathize with you, +and be considerate. I, too, have bonds: the bond of unfitness for my great +work, and the bond of old age. These two shackle and impede me in the +Master's cause. But I ask you to think not so much of these as of another +which binds me soul and body--it is the bond of love. I look into your +faces this morning, and think of the many years I have laboured among you +in evil report and good report. I have learned to love you, and now that +love is my greatest bond, for it enwraps my very heart. When parents see +their darling child turn against them, their love to him is the hardest +bond to bear, because they cannot sever it. They remember him as a babe in +arms, as a little, clinging, prattling child. They think of what they have +done and suffered for his sake and how the cord of love has been silently +woven through the years. My love to you is my greatest bond, and, though +some may grow cold, some may scoff, and some repudiate, never let the lips +of any say that your rector, your old grey-headed pastor, now in his +fourth and last watch, ever ceased in his love to his little flock." + +There was a diversity of opinion among the listeners to these pathetic +words, which was quite noticeable as the congregation filed out of the +church. The eyes of some were red, showing the intensity of their emotion, +while others shone with a scornful light. + +"The parson fairly upset me to-day!" blurted out one burly fellow. "I +heven't been so moved sense the day I laid me old mother to rest in the +graveyard over yonder." + +"Upset, did ye say?" replied another, turning suddenly upon him. "What was +there to upset ye in that?" + +"Why, the way the parson spoke and looked." + +"Umph! He was only acting his part. He was trying to work upon our +feelings, that was all. Ah, he is a cute one, that. Did ye hear what he +said about the bond of love? Ha, ha! That's a good joke." + +There was one, however, who felt the words more deeply than all the +others. This was Nellie, who sat straight upright in her pew, and watched +her father's every movement. She did not shed a tear, but her hands were +firmly clasped in her lap and her face was as pale as death. As soon as +the service was over she hurried into the vestry, helped her father off +with his robes, and then supported his feeble steps back to the Rectory. +She made no reference to the sermon, but endeavoured to divert her +father's mind into a different channel. She set about preparing their +light midday repast, talked and chatted at the table, and exhibited none +of the heaviness which pressed upon her heart. Only after she had coaxed +her father to lie down, and knew that he had passed into a gentle sleep, +did she give way to her pent-up feelings. How her heart did ache as she +sat there alone in the room, and thought of her father standing in the +pulpit uttering those pathetic words. + +Thursday, the day of the investigation, dawned bright and clear. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air. It was one of those balmy spring days when +it is good to be out-of-doors drinking in freshness and strength. + +The Bishop had arrived the night before, and had taken up his abode at the +Rectory. About ten o'clock the following morning, he wended his way to the +church, there to await the people of Glendow. Some time elapsed before any +arrived, and not until the afternoon did most of them come. Tom Fletcher +was among the first, and at once he made his way into the vestry, and +confronted the Bishop. + +The latter was a small-sized man, clean shaven, and with his head adorned +with a mass of white, wavy hair. His face and massive forehead bore the +stamp of deep intellectuality. He was noted as a writer of no mean order, +having produced several works dealing with church questions, full of +valuable historic research. His every movement bespoke a man of great +activity and devotion in his high office. His eyes were keen and +searching, while his voice was sharp and piercing. "Sharp as a razor," +said several of his careless clergy. Merciless and scathing in reference +to all guile, sham and hypocrisy, he was also a man of intense feeling, +sympathetic, warm-hearted, and a friend well worth having. + +He was poring over certain church registers as Tom Fletcher entered, and, +glancing quickly up, noted at once the man standing before him. He rose to +his feet, reached out his hand to Fletcher and motioned him to a chair. + +"Fletcher is your name, you say--Tom Fletcher," and the Bishop ran his +eyes over several lists of names before him. + +"Yes, sir, that's my name." + +"You signed the petition, I see." + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, you must know about these charges which are made against your +rector. Now, as regards the first. It states here that he is neglecting +certain parts of the parish. Is that true?" + +"I understand so." + +"Where?" + +"Oh, I hear he hasn't been to Hazel Greek an' Landsdown Corner fer over +two years." + +"Any other place?" + +"No, I guess them's the only two, but it seems to me to be a purty serious +matter fer sich places to be neglected so long." + +"Ah, I see," and the Bishop looked keenly into Tom's face. + +"You're not a vestryman, Mr. Fletcher?" he remarked. + +"No, never was one." + +"Did you ever attend an Easter Monday meeting?" + +"No, never had time." + +"Do you take a church paper?" + +"Should say not. Much as I kin do is to pay fer the newspaper." + +"But, of course, you read the Synod Journal, which is freely distributed. +It contains each year a report from this parish." + +"Yes, I read it sometimes, but there isn't much to interest me in that." + +"But surely, Mr. Fletcher, you must have read there that Hazel Creek and +Landsdown Corner were cut off from Glendow over two years ago, and added +to the adjoining parish, and are now served by the rector of Tinsborough. +They are more accessible to him, and the change has been a good one." + +"What! Ye don't tell me!" and Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I +never knew that before. The parson never said a word about it." + +"Did you ever ask him? Or did you inquire why he never went to those +places?" + +"No. I thought----" + +"I don't want to know what you thought," and the Bishop turned sharply +upon him. "Explanations are not needed now. You have proven conclusively +that you know nothing about the church affairs in this parish, and care +less. According to these registers I find that you never come to Communion +and never contribute one cent to the support of the church. But we will +let that pass, and consider the next charge made here." + +"What, about Uncle Billy?" + +"Yes. You know the charge made, and as you signed the petition you must +have some substantial proof to bring forth." + +Tom twisted uneasily on the chair and twirled his hat in his hands. He was +mad at the way the Bishop had cornered him, and at what he had said. But +he was also afraid of this man who knew so much and seemed to read his +inmost thoughts. He began to dread the questions which he knew would come, +and longed to be out of the vestry. He was not feeling so sure of himself +and wished he had stayed away. + +"The second charge made here," continued the Bishop, "is of a most serious +nature. It is to the effect that your rector stole the gold from William +Fletcher the night the house was burned, and used some of it to buy a +farm. Is that what it means?" + +"I--I--don't know," Tom stammered, now on his guard, and not wishing to +commit himself. + +"But you should know," the Bishop insisted. "You signed the paper, and I +ask you what it means, then?" + +"The gold is gone, sir, an' the parson was the only one there with Uncle +Billy. Besides, where did he git all of that money?" + +"But that's no proof. I want facts, and I expect you to give me some." + +"That's all I know," was the surly response. + +"And upon the strength of that suspicion you signed this paper?" + +"Yes." + +"And you would swear that you know nothing definite?" + +"Y--yes--that's all I know." + +The Bishop remained silent for a short time, musing deeply. + +"Do you know," he at length remarked, "that you have put yourself in a +very awkward position?" + +"How's that?" + +"You have virtually said that Mr. Westmore stole that gold. If you cannot +prove your statements you have laid yourself open to prosecution for +defamation of character. Your rector, if he wished, could bring in a +charge against you of a most serious nature." + +"I never thought of that." + +"No, I know you didn't. You may go now, but remember the position in which +you have placed yourself." + +Tom waited to hear no more. He fairly sprang to the door, his face dark +and frightened. He spoke to no one, neither did he notice the sturdy form +of Mrs. Stickles standing there waiting to be admitted into the vestry. + +The Bishop looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Stickles entered. She +always proved the dominating factor wherever she went, and what her size +could not accomplish was well supplied by her marvellous tongue. The +Bishop winced as she seized his hand in a vise-like grip. + +"It's real glad I am to set me eyes on ye," she exclaimed. "I heven't seen +ye in a dog's age, an' I'm mighty pleased ye look so well. How did ye +leave the missus, bless her dear heart? My, I'm all het up, the church is +so hot," and she bounced down upon the chair Fletcher had recently +vacated. + +The Bishop's eyes twinkled, and his care-worn face brightened perceptibly. +His exalted position made him a lonely man. There was so much deference +paid to him. People as a rule were so reserved in his presence, and showed +a longing to be away. "Many people desire a high office," he had once +said, "but very few realize the responsibility and loneliness it entails. +So much is expected of a Bishop, and his slightest words and acts are +criticized. I often envy humble workmen, smoking and chatting together. +They have many things in common. They may say what they like, and much +heed is not given to their remarks." + +It was therefore most refreshing to have this big-hearted woman seated +before him acting and talking so naturally, without the least restraint, +the same as if she were in her own house. + +"You have come, I suppose," said the Bishop, "in connection with this +petition," and he pointed to the paper lying on the table. + +"Oh, that's the thing, is it?" asked Mrs. Stickles, as she leaned forward +to get a better view. "Be very keerful of it, Mr. Bishop. Don't scratch it +or bring it too close to the fire." + +"Why, what do you mean?" asked the Bishop. + +"What do I mean? Don't ye know that's the work of the devil, an' there's +enough brimstone in that paper to burn us up in a jiffy. It's soaked +through an' through, so I advise ye to handle it keerful." + +"So you think these charges in this petition are not true? What can you +say to the contrary, then?" + +"What kin I say to be contrary? I kin say a good deal, an', indeed, I hev +said a good deal. When I heered about that pertition my buzum jist swelled +like the tail of an old cat when a hull bunch of yelpin' curs git after +her. But I didn't sit down an' weep an' wring me hands. No, sir, not a bit +of it. Me an' Sammy went to them in authority, an' sez I to them +church-wardens, sez I, 'will ye let that old parson, the Lord's anointed, +be imposed upon by them villains?'" + +"'What kin we do?' sez they. + +"'Do!' sez I.' Do what the Lord intended ye to do, fight. Didn't the Holy +Apostle say, 'Quit ye like men, be strong?' 'Git up a pertition,' sez I, +'an' git every decent, honest man in Glendow to sign it, an' send it to +the Bishop. Tell 'im?' sez I,' that the parson isn't neglectin' his parish +an' that yez hev full confidence in 'im.' + +"'We don't like to do it,' sez they. + +"'Why not?' sez I. + +"'We don't like to stir up strife,' sez they. ''Tisn't good to hev a +disturbance in the church. We're men of peace.' + +"'Peace,' sez I, 'an' let the devil win? That's not the trouble. Yer +afeered, that's what's the matter. Yer too weak-kneed, an' hain't got as +much backbone as an angle worm.' That's what I said to 'em, right out +straight, too. Now kin ye tell me, Mr. Bishop, why the Lord made some +people men instead of makin' 'em chickens fer all the spunk they've got?" + +"But, Mrs. Stickles," replied the Bishop, who had been staring in +amazement at the torrent of words, "what has this to do with the question +before us?" + +"I'm comin' to that, sir, only I wanted to tell ye my persition. When I +found that them in authority wouldn't make the start, I concluded that the +Lord meant me to do the work. So me an' Sammy an' our old horse Queen +travelled up an' down the parish fer three solid days, with this result," +and, drawing a paper from a capacious pocket, she laid it on the table. +"Thar 'tis, read it fer yerself, an' jedge." + +The Bishop's eyes grew a little misty as he read the words written there, +and noted the long list of names testifying to the worthiness of the +rector of Glendow. + +"Mrs. Stickles," he at length remarked, and his voice was somewhat husky, +"the Lord will reward you for what you have done. While others have been +simply talking, you have been acting. Like that woman of old, you have +done what you could, and this deed of love, believe me, will be remembered +in the parish of Glendow for generations to come. You may go now; you have +done your part." + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Decision + + +With his chair drawn tip close to the window, Parson John watched the +people as they moved along the road to and from the church. He recognized +them all, and knew them by their horses when some distance away. As +clothes betray a person when his face is not observable, so do horses and +sleighs on a country road. They seem to be vital parts of the owners, and +to separate them would be fatal. No one could imagine Mrs. Stickles seated +in a finely-upholstered sleigh and driving a high-mettled horse. She and +Sammy, the home-made pung and the old lean mare plodding onward, were +inseparably connected with the parish of Glendow. The parson's face +brightened as he saw this quaint conveyance shaking along the road. In +Mrs. Stickles he knew he would have one champion at least, though all the +others should turn against him. Team after team he watched, but none +turned aside into the Rectory gate to say a word to the old grey-headed +man, sitting before the window. + +The hours dragged slowly by, and still he sat there. Nellie went quietly +about her household duties, but a great weight kept pressing upon her +heart. Her father was so quiet, took no interest in his books, and did no +writing. Often she would stop and watch him as he sat there. He seemed to +be greyer than usual; his head was more bent, and his face wore a sad, +pained expression. "If he would only utter some word of complaint," +thought Nellie, "it would not be so hard. But to see that dumb, appealing +look is almost more than I can bear." + +Though very quiet, Parson John was fighting a hard, stern battle. His eyes +were often turned towards the road, but his thoughts were mostly upon +other things. Over his desk hung two pictures, and occasionally his gaze +rested upon these. One was that of a sweet-faced woman, who looked down +upon him with gentle, loving eyes-such eyes as Nellie inherited. + +"Ruth, Ruth," he murmured, "my darling wife. Thirty-five years since I +brought you here as a fair young bride. Thirty-five years! We knew not +then what lay before us. We knew not then how one must walk for years by +himself and at last tread the wine-press alone." + +His eyes drifted to the other picture hanging there--the Master kneeling +alone in Gethsemane. Long he looked upon that prostrate figure with the +upturned face. He thought of His agony in the Garden, the betrayal, +desertion and suffering. "I have trodden the winepress alone," he softly +whispered as into his face came a new light of peace and strength. Opening +a well-worn volume lying on the desk he read again that Garden scene, when +the Master knelt and fought His terrible battle. Forgotten for a brief +space were his own trials as he pored over that sacred page. How often had +he read that story, and meditated upon every word, but never before did he +realize the full significance of the scene. "Wonderful, wonderful," he +murmured again, as he reverently closed the Book. "Thank God--oh, thank +God for that life of suffering and sorrow! He knows our human needs. He +trod the winepress alone, and must I, His unworthy servant, expect to +escape? So, my Father, do with me what is best. 'Not my will, but Thine be +done.'" + +At this moment Nellie entered the room. She noticed the changed expression +upon her father's face, and, crossing to where he was, stood by his side. + +"Do you feel better, father?" she asked. + +"Yes, dear. My heart was very heavy a short time ago, but it is lighter +now. I seem to see my way more clearly. The darkness has passed, and a new +peace has come to me. Will you sing something for me, dearie?" + +"Certainly, father. What shall it be?" + +"Your mother's favorite hymn. The one she sang just before she left us." + +Taking her seat at the little harmonium, Nellie gently touched the keys, +and in a clear, sweet voice sang the old favourite hymn: + + "The sands of Time are sinking, + The dawn of Heaven breaks, + The summer morn I've sighed for. + The fair, sweet morn awakes. + Dark, dark has been the midnight, + But dayspring is at hand, + And glory, glory dwelleth + In Emmanuel's land." + +Softly she sang the whole hymn through, her father leaning back in his +chair with closed eyes, drinking in every word and sound. + + "I're wrestled on towards Heaven, + 'Gainst storm and wind and tide; + Lord, grant thy weary traveller + To lean on Thee as guide." + +"That's what I must do now, Nellie. 'Lean on Him as guide.' Oh, it gives +me such comfort. And He will guide right; we must never doubt that." + +When the Bishop had finished his investigation in the vestry, he sighed as +he closed his small grip and left the church. Slowly he walked up the road +lost in deep thought. There were numerous things which disturbed his mind. +He had listened to what the people had to say, but everything was so +vague. Yet there was some mystery, he believed, connected with the whole +matter. That missing gold, the Rector's need of money and then the +purchase of the farm were still shrouded in darkness. Thinking thus he +reached the Larkins' house where he had been invited to tea. + +"It will help Nellie to have the Bishop here," Mrs. Larkins had said to +her husband, "for she has enough care at the present time." + +Keenly she watched the Bishop's face as he came into the house, hoping to +obtain some clue to his thoughts. To her the trouble at the Rectory was as +her own, and she longed to know the outcome of the investigation. At first +she dreaded the thought of having the Bishop to tea. Had she not often +heard of his sharp, abrupt manner? Anxiously she scanned the tea-table, +with its spotless linen, with everything so neatly arranged, and wondered +what she had omitted. Her fears were soon dispelled, however, for the +Bishop made himself perfectly at home. It was a pleasure to him to sit at +the table with these two true, honest souls, of whom he had heard much +from Parson John. They were so natural, and made no effort to be what they +were not. + +"You must be tired, my Lord," said Mrs. Larkins, "after this trying day." + +"Not so much tired as puzzled," was the reply. + +"And did you get no light on the matter?" + +"Not a bit. Look at all those notes I took--not worth the paper on which +they are written. Everything is hearsay--nothing definite. And yet there +is some mystery attached to the whole affair. I am sorely puzzled about +that missing gold and where the Rector obtained the money to buy that +farm." + +"And didn't he tell you, my Lord?" asked Mrs. Larkins, pausing in the act +of pouring the tea. + +"No, he will not tell me. He is as silent as the grave. When I pressed him +to speak and thus clear himself, he begged me with tears in his eyes not +to urge him. 'It's honest money,' he said, 'which purchased the farm, but +I can tell you no more now.'" + +"You have heard, my Lord, that he is involved in some mining transaction +out in British Columbia. It is now in litigation and the parson is +contributing all he possibly can." + +"Yes, I learned of that to-day, and it only tends to complicate matters. I +cannot believe that your Rector had anything to do with that gold. But oh, +if he would only explain. Are you sure that that box is not still among +the ashes and ruins of the old house?" + +"I am certain it is not there," Mr. Larkins replied. "We have searched the +place thoroughly, and even sifted the ashes, but all in vain. Not a trace +could we find of the box or the gold." + +The evening was somewhat advanced as the Bishop bade the Larkins +good-night and made his way over to the Rectory. He found Parson John +seated in a deep chair, gazing silently before him. Nellie was sitting +near reading, or trying to read. She greeted the Bishop with a bright +smile, drew up a chair for him to the pleasant fire, and took his hat and +coat. + +"Have I kept you up, Nellie?" he asked. "Your father must be tired." + +"No, no, my Lord," she replied. "It is not late yet. But you must be +tired." + +"A little, my dear. The day has been somewhat trying." + +From the time he had entered Parson John had kept his eyes fixed full upon +the Bishop's face with a mute, questioning look which spoke louder than +words. "What have you found out?" He seemed to be saying. "What stories +have they been telling about me? Who have been my foes and friends?" + +"The vestry was converted into quite a court-room to-day," said the +Bishop, reading the questioning look in the parson's face. "There were +certainly several lively scenes, especially when Mrs. Stickles made her +appearance." + +"You have reached a conclusion then, I suppose?" and Mr. Westmore leaned +eagerly forward. + +"No, not yet. I cannot give my decision now. I want to think it carefully +over, and shall notify you by letter." + +"I thank you, my Lord, for the trouble you have taken in the matter," and +the parson resumed his former position. "But I have been thinking deeply +since hearing these reports concerning me, and my mind is made up as to +the course I shall pursue." + +"Indeed, and in what way?" queried the Bishop. + +"To-morrow morning I shall hand to you my resignation of this parish." + +The effect of these words was startling, and Nellie's face went very white +as she glanced quickly at her father. + +"Do you mean it?" inquired the Bishop. + +"Yes, my Lord. I have not come to this decision without much thought, +prayer, and struggle. I have been too blind. I forgot how old I am, though +God knows my heart is as young as ever. It's only natural that the people +of Glendow should desire a change; a man who will infuse new life into the +work, and draw in the wandering and indifferent ones. May God forgive me +that I did not think of it before!" + +His head drooped low as he uttered these words, and the pathos of his +voice denoted the intensity of his feelings. It was impossible not to be +much moved at the figure of this venerable man, this veteran warrior of +his church, without one word of complaint, willing to relinquish all, to +give up the command to another, that the Master's work might be +strengthened. The Bishop was visibly affected, although he endeavoured to +conceal his emotion. + +"Westmore," he replied, "I always believed you to be a noble man of God, +though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you +leave Glendow? How will you live?" + +"I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; +He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in +my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his +wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit. +We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will +open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere +He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six +months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid +of me." + +"Why not sell that farm you purchased?" suggested the Bishop. "It should +bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot +place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy +soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then." + +"I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible." + +"But you bought it; it is yours." + +"It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!" + +The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained +the Bishop from saying more on the subject. + +"And so you think you must go?" he remarked after a painful silence. + +"Yes, I see nothing else to do." + +"But remember all have not turned against you. See this list," and the +Bishop handed over the petition Mrs. Stickles had given him. + +Eagerly the parson read the words, and scanned the names scrawled below. + +"And did Mrs. Stickles do this?" he asked. + +"Yes. She went up and down the parish for three days." + +"God bless the woman!" murmured Mr. Westmore. "What a comfort this is to +me; to know that all have not deserted me. I did not expect it. But it +will not change my mind. My eyes have been suddenly opened to my own +inability to do the work. Another will do much better. I've explained +everything to you, my Lord, that I can explain, and about that horse-race, +too. It is better for me to go." + +"Father," said Nellie, "let us go to Uncle Reuben's for a month or so. You +need a rest, and a vacation will do you good. Perhaps then you will see +things differently." + +"Capital idea!" exclaimed the Bishop. "It's just the thing! Go to your +brother's and stay there for a month or two." + +"But what about the parish? It will be left vacant the whole of that time. +If I resign a new Rector can take charge at once." + +"Oh, I will arrange for that," responded the Bishop. "There is a young man +fresh from college who will be ordained shortly. I will send him here +during your absence. We will thus give the people a change, and then, no +doubt, they will be glad enough to have you back again." + +Parson John sat for some time in deep meditation, while Nellie watched him +with an anxious face. The clock in the room ticked loudly, and the fire +crackled in the hearth. + +"Very well," he assented at length with a deep sigh. "If you think it +best, my Lord, that this should be done I shall not oppose your wish. But +I am firmly convinced that it will be just the same as if I resigned. When +once the new man comes and begins the work, the people will not want their +old Rector back again. But, nevertheless, it will be all for the best. 'My +times are in His hands,' and I feel sure that ever 'underneath are the +Everlasting Arms.'" + + + + +Chapter XXII + +In the Deep of the Heart + + +It did not take long for the news of Parson John's intended departure to +spread throughout Glendow. + +Tongues were once more loosened and numerous conjectures made. + +"Guess the Bishop found things pretty crooked," remarked one, "an' thinks +it high time for the parson to get out." + +"I've thought the same myself," replied another. "The parson's been +dabblin' too much in furren affairs. As I was tellin' my missus last +night, we never know what will happen next. When them as is leaders goes +astray, what kin be expected of the sheep? I've given a bag of pertaters +each year to support the church, but dang me if I do it any more!" + +But while some saw only the dark side and believed the parson to be +guilty, there were others who stood nobly by him in his time of trial. +Various were the calls made, some people driving for miles to say +good-bye, and to express their regrets at his departure. + +Among the number was Mrs. Stickles. She was the first to arrive, and, +bustling out of the old broken-down wagon, she seized the parson's hand in +a mighty grip as he met her at the gate. + +"God bless ye, sir!" she ejaculated. "I'm more'n delighted to see ye. I +was on me knees scrubbin' the kitchen floor when Patsy Garlick dropped in +an' told me the news. It so overcome me that I flopped right down an' +bawled like a calf." + +"Dear me! dear me!" replied the Rector. "What's wrong? did you receive bad +news? I hope nothing's the matter with Tony." + +"Oh, no. I don't mean 'im, sir, though I ain't heered from 'im fer months +now. He's so shet up thar in the woods that it's hard to hear. But I feel +he's all right, fer if he wasn't I'd soon know about it. No, it's not fer +'im I bawled, but fer you an' the darlin' lass. To think that ye are to +leave us so soon!" + +"Oh, I see," and the parson placed his hand to his forehead. "Thank you +very much for your kindness, Mrs. Stickles, and for what you did +concerning that petition. So you have come all the way to bid us good-bye. +You must go into the house at once, and have a bite with us. I shall send +Dan to give the horse some hay." + +"Thank ye, sir. I didn't come expectin' to be taken in an' fed, but seein' +as it'll be some time afore I hev sich a privilege agin, I don't mind if I +do." + +Spring had now come in real earnest. The days were balmy, the sun poured +its bright rays upon hill and valley, and the snow disappeared as if by +magic. Thousands of streams and rivulets rushed racing down to the river, +sparkling and babbling, glad of their release from winter's stern grip. +The early birds had returned, filling the air with their sweet music, and +the trees, awakened from their long slumber, were putting forth their +green buds. Everything spoke of freshness and peace. + +But within the Rectory there was an unusual silence. A gloom pervaded the +house, which even Nellie's sunny presence could not dispel. Dan had +disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. He had departed in the +night so silently that even Nellie's ever-watchful ear did not hear his +footsteps upon the floor. They knew no reason why the lad should do such a +thing, and anxiously they discussed the matter over the breakfast-table. +Inquiries were made throughout the parish, which only served to set +tongues wagging more than ever. + +"I knew when the parson took him in," said one knowing person, "that +something 'ud happen. Ye can never tell about sich waifs. They generally +amount to nuthin' or worse." + +Nellie missed Dan very much. She had come to love the lad with all his +quaint ways and dreamy far-away look. He had always been so ready to do +anything for her, and often she found him watching her with wondering +eyes. In her heart she could not believe that the boy had run away because +he was tired of living at the Rectory. She felt sure there must be some +other reason, and often she puzzled her brain trying to solve the problem. + +As the days passed preparations were made for their departure. There was +much to do, for numerous things they must take with them. The parson took +but little interest in what was going on. He seemed to be living in +another world. So long had he lived at the Rectory that the building had +become almost a part of himself. How many sacred associations were +attached to each room! Here his children had been born; here he had +watched them grow, and from that front door three times had loving hands +borne forth three bodies,--two, oh, so young and tender--to their last +earthly resting-place in the little churchyard. In youth it is not so hard +to sever the bonds which unite us to a loved spot. They have not had time +fully to mature, and new associations are easily made and the first soon +forgotten. But in old age it is different. New connections are not easily +formed, and the mind lives so much in the past, with those whom we have +"loved long since and lost awhile." + +It was hard for Nellie to watch her father as the days sped by. From room +to room he wandered, standing for some time before a familiar object, now +a picture and again a piece of furniture. Old chords of memory were +awakened. They were simple, common household effects of little intrinsic +value. But to him they were fragrant with precious associations, like old +roses pressed between the pages of a book, recalling dear and far-off, +half-forgotten days. + +Nellie, too, felt keenly the thought of leaving the Rectory. It had been +her only home. Here had she been born, and here, too, had she known so +much happiness. Somehow she felt it would never again be the same; that +the parting of the ways had at last arrived. Her mind turned often towards +Stephen. She had seen him but little of late. Formerly he had been so much +at the Rectory. Seldom a day had passed that she did not see him. But now +it was so different. Sometimes for a whole week, and already it had been a +fortnight since he had been there. She knew how busy he was bringing his +logs down to the river. He had told her that stream driving would soon +begin, when every hour would be precious to catch the water while it +served. She knew this, and yet the separation was harder than she had +expected. There was an ache in her heart which she could not describe. +Often she chided herself at what she called her foolishness. But every +evening while sitting in the room she would start at any footstep on the +platform, and a deep flush would suffuse her face. She had come to realize +during the time of waiting what Stephen really meant to her. + +Thus while Nellie worked and thought in the Rectory, Stephen with his men +was urging his drive of logs down the rough and crooked Pennack stream. +How he did work! There was no time to be lost, for the water might +suddenly fall off and leave the logs stranded far from the river. All day +long he wrestled with the monsters of the forest. At night there was the +brief rest, then up and on again in the morning. But ever as he handled +the peevy there stood before him the vision of the sweet-faced woman at +the Rectory. She it was who had moved him to action, and inspired him. +through days of discouragement. His deep love for her was transforming him +into a man. He longed to go to her, to comfort her in her time of trouble. +But he must not leave his work now. Too much depended upon that drive +coming out, and she would understand. So day by day he kept to his task, +and not until the last log had shot safely into the boom in the creek +below did he throw down his peevy. It was late in the evening as he sprang +ashore and started up the road. His heart was happy. He had accomplished +the undertaking he had set out to perform. + +And while Stephen trudged homeward Nellie sat in the little sitting-room, +her fingers busy with her needle. All things had been completed for their +departure, which was to take place on the morrow. Parson John had retired +early to rest, and Nellie was doing a little sewing which was needed. The +fire burned in the grate as usual, for the evening was chill, and the +light from the lamp flooded her face and hair with a soft, gentle +radiance. Perfect type of womanhood was she, graceful in form, fair in +feature, the outward visible signs of a pure and inward spiritual +nobleness. + +So did she seem to the man standing outside and looking upon her through +the window with fond, loving eyes. His knock upon the door startled the +quiet worker. She rose to her feet, moved forward, and then hesitated. Who +could it be at such an hour? for it was almost eleven o'clock. Banishing +her fear she threw open the door, and great was her surprise to behold the +one of whom she had just been thinking standing there. For a brief space +of time neither spoke, but stood looking into each other's eyes. Then, +"Stephen," said Nellie, and her voice trembled, "I didn't expect to see +you to-night. Is anything wrong?" + +"No, not with me," Stephen replied as he entered. "But with you, Nellie, +there is trouble, and I want to tell you how I feel for you. I wanted to +come before; but you understand." + +"Yes, I know, Stephen," and Nellie took a chair near the fire. + +As Stephen looked down upon her as she sat there, how he longed to put his +strong arm about her and comfort her. He had planned to say many things +which he had thought out for days before. But nothing now would come to +his lips. He stood as if stricken dumb. + +"Nellie." + +"Stephen." + +Silence reigned in the room. Their hearts beat fast. Each realized what +that silence meant, and yet neither spoke. With a great effort Stephen +crushed back the longing to tell her all that was in his heart, and to +claim her for his own. Would she refuse? He did not believe so. But he was +not worthy of her love--no, not yet. He must prove himself a man first. He +must redeem the homestead, and then he would speak. Sharp and fierce was +the struggle raging in his breast. He had thought it would be a simple +matter to come and talk to her on this night. He would bid her a +conventional good-bye, and go back to his work, cheered and strengthened. +But he little realized how his heart would be stirred by her presence as +she sat there bowed in trouble. + +"Nellie," he said at length, taking a seat near by. "I'm very sorry you're +going away. What will the place be like without you?" + +"Yes, I'm sorry to go, Stephen," was the low reply. "'Tis hard to go away +from home, especially under--under a cloud." + +"But, surely, Nellie, you don't think the people believe those stories?" + +"No, not all. But some do, and it's so hard on father. He has had so much +trouble lately with that mining property in British Columbia, and now this +has come." + +Stephen sat thinking for a while before he spoke. When at last he did he +looked searchingly into Nellie's face. + +"There is something which puzzles me very much, and partly for that reason +I have come to see you to-night." + +"Anything more in connection with father, Stephen?" + +"Yes. Nora has been worse of late, and the doctor said that the only hope +of curing her was to send her to New York to a specialist. Mother was very +much depressed, for we have no means, and under the circumstances it is so +hard to hire money. I had about made up my mind to get some money advanced +on the logs. I would do anything for Nora's sake. The next day your father +came to see her, and mother was telling him what the doctor said, and how +much he thought it would cost. Two days later your father sent mother a +cheque for the full amount, with a letter begging her to keep the matter +as quiet as possible. I cannot understand it at all. I know your father is +in great need of money, and yet he can spare that large sum. Do you know +anything about it?" + +Nellie listened to these words with fast beating heart. She knew her +father had been over to bid Mrs. Frenelle and Nora good-bye, but he had +said nothing to her about giving the money. The mystery was certainly +deepening. Where had that money come from? A sudden thought stabbed her +mind. She banished it instantly, however, while her face crimsoned to +think that she should believe anything so unworthy of her father. + +"Nellie," Stephen questioned, after he had waited some time for her to +speak, "do you know anything about it?" + +"No, Stephen; nothing. It is all a great puzzle. But it is honest money! +Never doubt that! Father keeps silence for some purpose, I am sure. He +will tell us some day. We must wait and be patient!" + +She was standing erect now, her eyes glowing with the light of +determination, and her small, shapely hands were clenched. She had thought +of what people would say if they heard this. It would be like oil to fire. +No, they must never know it. + +"Stephen," she cried, "promise me before God that you will not tell anyone +outside of your family about that money!" + +"I promise, Nellie. Did you think I would tell? I know mother and Nora +will not. Did you doubt me?" + +"No, Stephen, I did not doubt you. But, oh, I do not know what to think +these days! My mind is in such a whirl all the time, and my heart is so +heavy over the puzzling things which have happened. I just long to lie +down and rest, rest, forever." + +"You're tired, Nellie," replied Stephen, as he straightened himself up in +an effort to control his own feelings. "You must rest now, and you will be +stronger to-morrow. Good-bye, Nellie, God bless you," and before she could +say a word he had caught her hand in his, kissed it fervently, flung open +the door, and disappeared into the night. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Where Is Dan? + + +During the whole of this time of excitement Dan had been doing his own +share of thinking. He heard the rumours of the parish, listened to the +stories told at the store or blacksmith shop, tucked them away in his +retentive mind, and brooded over them by day and night. The purpose which +had taken possession of him as he sat by the parson's side during his +lonely watch in Stephen's camp grew stronger as the days passed by. He +told no one, not even Nellie, what was in his mind. It was a sacred thing +to him, and he dreamed over it, as a mother over her unborn child. Not +until the dream had become a reality, a living deed, must the world know +of it. + +Formerly he had been indifferent as to his studies. His listless manner +was a great cause of worry to Nellie. But after the accident a change took +place. His eagerness to know how to write surprised her. Often she found +him painfully scrawling huge letters upon any old piece of paper he +happened to find. Time and time again he asked her how to spell certain +words, and when she had printed them for him he copied them over and over +again with the greatest care. Every day he watched the mail-carrier as he +rattled by in his rude buckboard. To him this man was a wonderful being. +Knowing nothing of the postal system, Dan imagined that Si Tower conducted +the whole business himself. "How much he must know," he thought, "and what +long journeys he must take." It was therefore with considerable +trepidation he one day stood by the roadside watching the postman rattling +along. + +"Hello, kid! Watcher want?" was Si's salutation as he pulled in his old +nag, and glared down upon the boy. + +"You give this to Tony, please," and Dan held up a little folded slip of +paper. + +Tower looked at the paper, and turned over the wad of tobacco in his cheek +before replying. Then a quaint twinkle shone in his eyes. + +"I can't take that," he said. "'Tain't lawful. No stamp. Say, kid, guess +the only way fer ye to deliver that is to take it yerself. Git up, Bess," +and with a hearty laugh the postman swung on his way, and all that day +told the story wherever he stopped. + +"Ye should have seen his face an' eyes," he chuckled. "It was as good as a +circus. Thar was no stamp on the letter, an' when I told 'im to go himself +an' deliver it, he jist stared at me. Ha, ha, it was too funny fer +anything." + +But Dan, as he stood in the road watching Tower drive away, did not see +anything funny. His faith in the postman had received a rude shock. His +hero was made of common clay after all. He sighed as he walked back to the +house, clutching in his hands the little crumpled piece of paper. As the +days passed and the new trouble arose at the Rectory, Dan became very +restless. He knew of everything that was going on, and when the Bishop +arrived he gazed upon him with awe mingled with fear and anger. Often he +would draw forth the letter, from a deep, capacious pocket, and look long +and carefully upon it. + +At length the moment arrived when his mind was fully made up. He bade +Nellie and her father good-night, and crept upstairs to his own little +room. For some time he sat upon the bed lost in thought. He heard Nellie +come up the stairs and enter her own room. Drawing up the blind and +turning down the light, he looked out of the window. How dark it was, and +dismal. He would wait awhile until it became lighter. Throwing himself +upon the bed without undressing, he drew a quilt over him and ere long was +fast asleep. When he opened his eyes a dim light was struggling in through +the window, and contending slowly with the blackness of night. Dan was +sleepy, and the bed so comfortable, that he longed to stay where he was. +But this feeling was soon overcome, and springing to his feet he stood +listening and alert, as a creature of the wild startled from its lair. Not +a sound disturbed the house. Everything was wrapped in silence. Quietly he +moved out of his room, and crept softly down the stairs, fearful lest at +every creak Nellie should be aroused. Reaching the kitchen he put on his +shoes, which he had left by the stove. Next he went into the pantry, found +some cold meat, bread, cheese and biscuits. A paper bag lying near was +soon filled and securely tied with a stout string. Dan sighed as he donned +his cap, drew on his mittens, closed the back door, and stood by the +little outside porch. In his heart he felt it was wrong to go away without +telling Nellie and her father where he was going. But on the other hand he +was quite sure they would not be willing for him to go so far away, and +besides he did not wish to tell them anything until the deed had been +accomplished. + +The early morning air was cool, clear and crisp. The sun had not yet +risen, but far away in the eastern sky the glory of another new-born day +was clearly visible. Dan's heart responded to the freshness and the beauty +which lay around him. As the daylight increased the feeble chirp of +half-awakened birds fell upon his ears. The old longing for the wild +filled his soul. He thought of his father, the little cabin in the valley, +and the woodland haunts he knew and loved so dearly. His eyes sparkled +with animation, and the blood tingled and surged through his body. He felt +like shouting at the mere joy of being alive. + +"Guess I must be like the bears," he thought. "They stay in their dens all +winter and come out in the spring. I'm just like one now." + +He knew the direction, for had he not listened time and time again to the +conversations in the store? The talk had often turned upon Rodgers & +Peterson's big lumbering operations in Big Creek Valley. Yes, he was sure +he could find the place. Up the river to Rocky Point, from thence along a +big cove, then over a hill and down into a valley. He had dreamed of the +way; how long it would take him, and what he would say when he got there. +All day long he plodded steadily onward, and when night shut down he +stopped by a large stack of hay which had been brought from the lowlands +when the river was frozen. He was tired, and the soft hay inviting. Into +this he crawled, and ere long was fast asleep. Early the next morning he +was up and on again. His supply of food was now getting low. At noon he +ruefully viewed the little that was left. "Enough only for supper," he +murmured. "Maybe I'll get there to-morrow." + +During the day he learned from several people he met that he was on the +right road. They had looked with interest upon the little figure, and +asked him numerous questions. But Dan gave only indefinite answers. He +wished to go to Big Creek Valley to Rodgers & Peterson's lumber camp. When +the second night arrived he was very weary and footsore. He had eaten his +last scrap of food before sundown, and as he trudged on he wondered what +he would do in the morning. He disliked the idea of asking at any of the +farm-houses for food. His father had always scoffed at tramps and beggars. +"They are spongers," he had often said, "and people cannot afford to have +such useless people around." + +That word "sponger" as it came to Dan caused him to straighten himself up +and step forward more quickly. He was not a sponger now. His face flushed +at Farrington's insult. He would show the whole world that he could pay +for his keep, and if he could not do it in one way, he would in another. + +That night no friendly haystack stood by the road-side, but over there in +the field he saw a barn near a farm-house. He could find shelter in that. +Waiting until it was dark, he crept cautiously through a small sheep door, +and entered. He heard in another part of the building the cattle munching +the last of their evening meal. It was good to know that they were near, +and that he was not altogether alone. As he threw himself upon a small +bunch of straw which he found as he felt around with his hands, a great +feeling of loneliness came over him. He longed for the Rectory and a +glimpse of Nellie's face. Was she thinking of him, he wondered, or had she +forgotten him, and believed him to be an ungrateful scamp? He clenched his +hands, and the blood surged to his face as he thought of it. No, he would +show her he was not a scamp, but a real man. Oh, she should know what he +could do! + +Thinking thus he found himself no longer in the barn, but back again at +the Rectory. He could see the fire burning brightly on the hearth, and a +number of people standing around. They were all looking upon him, and he +saw the doctor there, too. But Nellie's face riveted his attention. She +was gazing upon him with such a deep look of love. And yet it did not seem +altogether like Nellie, and, when she spoke, it was a different voice. +Suddenly a strange sound fell upon his ears. The room at the Rectory +faded, and in ita stead there was the rough barn floor, and the bunch of +straw on which he was lying. For an instant he gazed around him in a +bewildered manner. He could not realize just where he was. A childish +laugh caused him to turn his head, and there looking in at him from a +small door to the left was a little maiden, with curly, auburn hair and +cheeks twin sisters to the rosiest apples that ever grew. + +"Oo azy ittle boy!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Oo must det up. Turn, +daddy, tee azy, azy ittle boy." + +Presently there appeared at her side, a large man, holding a pail in his +left hand. + +"What is it, dearie?" he asked. "What's all the fun and chattering about?" + +"Tee, tee, azy boy," and she pointed with a fat little finger to the +corner of the barn floor. + +By this time Dan had leaped to his feet, and stood confronting the man. He +felt that he was a trespasser, and perhaps he would be punished. But as he +looked into the big man's eyes he read with the instinct of a wild animal +that he had nothing to fear, for only pity shone in those clear, grey +depths. + +"Did you sleep there all night?" the man asked, pointing to the straw. + +"Yes, sir," was the reply. "I hope you're not cross." + +"I'm cross, boy, to think that you didn't come to the house and ask for a +bed." + +"I didn't like to, sir. I didn't like to bother anybody. But I knew +whoever owned the barn wouldn't mind if I slept here. It's a comfortable +place, and I was tired." + +"Did you have any supper last night?" the man asked, looking keenly into +Dan's face. + +"Yes, sir; a piece of bread." + +"What, nothing more?" + +"No. But I had a grand drink from that spring back yonder, and with the +good sleep I've had, I think I can manage to-day." + +"Look here, boy, you'll not leave this place until you have your +breakfast. So come. Marion, you found this little stranger, and you must +take him to the house." + +But Dan drew back, as the little maiden toddled up to take him by the +hand. + +"I can't go," he stammered. "I've got no money, and I won't be a sponger." + +"A what?" asked the man. + +"A sponger. I hate a sponger, and so did my father. I'll split wood for my +breakfast if you'll let me, sir, for I am hungry." + +"That's a bargain," said the man, much pleased at the spirit of the boy. +"So hurry off now. I haven't much time to lose." + +Proudly the little maiden conducted her charge to the house, and told in +broken language about her marvellous find. Dan felt much at home with +Marion's mother, and during breakfast he told her where he was going. + +"What! to Rodgers & Peterson's camp!" exclaimed: the big man at the head +of the table. "That's where I'm going myself, and that's why I'm up so +early this morning. I'm glad to hear of that, for I'll have company." + +"But I must split the wood," Dan insisted. "I shall try to earn my +breakfast, but what about the ride?" + +"Oh, I'll give you work along the way," laughed the man. "You'll have +plenty to do, so don't worry." + +While the horses were being harnessed Dan vigorously swung the axe in the +wood-house. Perched upon the door-step Marion watched him with admiring +eyes. He knew that she was looking at him, and his bosom swelled with +pride. He was not a sponger, but a man working for his breakfast. At times +he stole a glance at the little figure sitting there. "How pretty she is," +he thought. "I wish I had a sister like her. He longed to stay there, to +be near the little maiden, and to work for the big, kind man. He sighed as +he laid down the axe, and gazed at the wood he had chopped. + +"It ain't much," he remarked, as he stood ready to climb into the waggon. +"Wish I had more time." + +"It will do," responded the big man. "I am satisfied if you are." + +Dan had no time to answer, for at that instant a little voice sounded +forth. Looking quickly around he beheld Marion hurrying towards him +holding in her hand a small rose. + +"Me div dis to oo, ittle boy," she cried. "It's off my own woes bus. Oo +must teep it." + +Hardly knowing what he did Dan took the little flower, and stood staring +at Marion. + +"Come, lassie," cried her father, catching her in his arms and giving her +a loving hug and a kiss. "Take good care of mother. We must be off." + +"Oo div me tiss, too," and she lifted up her lips to Dan's. + +The latter's face flushed scarlet, and he trembled. Never in his life had +he kissed a little girl like that. What should he do? He longed for the +ground to open or something dreadful to happen. He would have welcomed +anything just then. + +"Tiss me, ittle boy," urged Marion. She had him by the coat now with both +hands, drawing him down to her. There was nothing for him to do. He must +go through the ordeal. Suddenly he bent his head and shut his eyes. His +face came close to hers; he felt her lips touch his cheek, and heard her +childish laugh of delight. + +"Dood ittle boy!" she exclaimed. "Now dood-by. Don't lose my pitty fower." + +Too much confused to say a word Dan scrambled into the waggon, and soon +the horses were speeding off down the lane to the road. For some time he +sat bolt upright on the seat, silent and thoughtful, clutching in his hand +that tiny rose. The big man at his side asked no questions, but seemed +intent solely upon managing his horses. But not a motion of the little lad +at his side escaped his notice. He loved children, and had the rare gift +of understanding them. A faint smile played about his mouth as from the +corner of his eye he saw Dan take a piece of paper from his pocket, shyly +place the rose between the folds and then return it to its former place. +He could not hear the boy's heart thumping hard beneath his jacket, but he +understood, and what more was needed? + +All day long they jogged over the road, stopping only at noon to feed the +horses and eat a lunch Marion's mother had tucked away in the corner of +the waggon. Dan found it easy to talk to the big man sitting by his side. +He told him about his father's death, Parson John, and the accident, to +which his companion listened with much interest. But concerning the object +of his visit to the lumber camp, Dan was silent. Several times he was at +the point of explaining everything, but always he hesitated and determined +to wait. + +"I did not tell Nellie," he said to himself, "and why should I tell a +stranger first?" + +The sun was sinking far westward as they wound their way along a woodland +road. Down to the left the water of Big Creek Brook raced and swirled. +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the rushing torrent as the road +dipped closer to the bank. + +"We should meet the drive ere long," the big man remarked, as he flicked +the horses with his whip. "I'm afraid the logs have jammed in Giant Gorge, +or else they would have been here by this time. It's a bad, rocky place, +and seldom a drive gets through without trouble." + +Presently he pulled up his horses before a little log shack standing to +the right. + +"I shall leave the horses here for the night, boy," he said. "There's a +path down yonder to the left. If you're in a hurry you can take that. It +will lead to the stream, and you can follow it up until you meet the men. +If they ask any questions tell them you came with Big Sam, and everything +will be all right. Take care and don't fall into the water." + +Dan was only too anxious to be on foot. He was cramped from sitting so +long in the waggon. Moreover, he was restless to get to the end of his +journey, and accomplish his business. Thanking the big man, he leaped from +the waggon and was soon speeding down the path, and in a few minutes +reached the edge of the brook, roaring and foaming between its steep +banks. Looking up-stream he could see no sign of the drive, but the +well-beaten path was there, and along this he hurried. Ere long he reached +a bend in the stream and as he rounded this, and lifted up his eyes, a +wild, terrible scene was presented to view. Away to the right he beheld +Giant Gorge, a narrow gash in the rocks, through which the waters were +seething and boiling in wildest commotion. On the hither side a flood of +logs was sweeping and tearing down, like a mighty breastwork suddenly +loosened. Dan started back in terror at the sight, and was about to spring +up the bank to a place of safety, when his eyes rested upon the form of a +man out in the midst of that rush of destruction, vainly trying to free +himself from the watery chasm which had suddenly yawned beneath his feet. +Dan's heart beat wildly at the sight. But only for an instant did he +hesitate. Then forward he leaped like a greyhound. Forgotten was the +rushing torrent, and his own danger. He thought only of that frantically +clinging man. He reached the edge of the stream, leaped upon the nearest +logs, and, with the agility of a wildcat, threaded his way through that +terrible labyrinth of grinding, crashing, heaving monsters. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +The Rush of Doom + + +To bring a drive of logs down Big Creek Brook required skill, patience and +courage. It was a nasty, crooked stream, filled with sunken rocks, bad +bends and stretches of shallow water. Rodgers & Peterson had their logs in +the stream early, and everything pointed to a successful season's work. +For awhile all went well, but then mishap after mishap held them back. The +logs jammed in several places, and days were lost in getting them cleared. +Then they grounded upon bars and shoals, which caused a great delay. But +the most serious of all was the hold-up in Giant Gorge. This was the most +dreaded spot in the whole stream, and seldom had a drive been brought +through without some disaster. Much blasting had been done, and a number +of obstacles blown away. But for all that there were rocks which defied +the skill of man to remove. Two flinty walls reared their frowning sides +for several rods along the brook. Between these an immense boulder lifted +its head, around which the waters incessantly swirled. But when the stream +was swollen high enough the logs would clear this obstacle at a bound, +like chargers leaping a fence, and plunge into the whirling eddies below. + +When the "R & P" drive, the name by which it was commonly known, reached +Giant Gorge, it was confidently believed that there was enough water to +carry it safely through. But such reckoning was wrong. As the logs came +sweeping down and were sucked into the Gorge they began to crowd, and, +instead of rushing through loose and free, they jammed against the rocky +walls, while a huge monster became wedged on the sunken boulder, and, +acting as a key log, held in check the whole drive. Then began a wild +scene, which once beheld can never be forgotten. Stopped in their mad +career, the logs presented the spectacle of unrestrained passion. The +mighty, heaving, twisting mass groaned, pressed and writhed for freedom, +but with the awful grip of death the sturdy key log held firm. Steadily +the jam increased in size, and whiter threw the foam, as one by one those +giant logs swept crashing down, to be wedged amidst their companions as if +driven by the sledge of Thor. + +The drivers stood upon the bank and watched the logs piling higher and +higher. Well did they know what the delay might mean to Rodgers & +Peterson. Much depended upon that drive coming out, and for it to be held +up during summer meant almost ruin to the firm. They were a hardy body of +men who stood there late that afternoon discussing the matter. They were +great workmen these, well versed in woodland lore. All winter long had +they taken their part in that big lumber operation, and, now that the work +was almost completed, it was certainly aggravating to be thus checked. + +As the men talked, and several lighted their pipes, one strapping fellow +stood on the bank, his eyes fixed upon that immovable key log. During the +whole winter Tony Stickles had been the butt as well as the curiosity of +the men. His long, lank figure was the source of much ridicule, while his +remarks, which were always slow and few, were generally greeted with +merriment. From the first night in camp he had been a marked man. Ere he +threw himself into the rude bunk he had knelt down on the floor in the +presence of them all, and said his evening prayer. A boot had been thrown +at his head, and a laugh had gone about the room. Tony had risen from his +knees, and with a flushed face sought his couch, surprised at the action +on the part of these men. But one middle-aged man of great stature and +strength had watched it all. He sat quietly smoking for several minutes +after the laughter had subsided. + +"Boys," he said at length, taking his pipe from his mouth, "I'm real sorry +at what ye've done to-night. I've six little ones of me own, an' I hope to +God when they grow up they'll not be afeered to kneel down an' do as yon +lad has done to-night. I'm not a good man meself, more's the pity. But +that boy's had a good mother's teachin'. I honour her an' 'im. An' let me +tell ye this, men, if I ketch ye doin' agin what ye did to-night, ye'll +have to reckon with me. So jist try it on, an' I won't give a second +warnin'." + +Jake Purdy calmly resumed his smoking, and the men looked at one another +in silence. They knew very well from certain past unpleasant experiences +what it meant to cross this quiet, plain-spoken man. He said little, and +never entered into a quarrel without some reason. But when he did there +was cause for the stoutest heart to quake. + +Tony listened to it all concealed away in his bunk. His heart thumped +beneath his rough shirt, and he wished to thank Jake for taking his part. +But strive as he might he never had the opportunity. The big woodsman +never seemed to notice him. Days passed into weeks, and still Tony did not +utter the gratitude which was lying in his heart. To him Jake was more +than ordinary--a hero. He watched him as he chopped, and drank in greedily +the few words he let fall from time to time in the camp. + +"Boys, that drive must go through." + +It was the boss who spoke, as he jerked his thumb towards the Gorge. "Yes, +it's got to go through to-night, or it's all up. The water's falling off +fast, and if we wait till to-morrow, we'll wait till next fall. I've +always said there should be a dam at the head of the Gorge, and I say it +now more emphatically than ever. But as it is not there, it's up to us to +get this d--n thing through as best we can. I've never been stuck yet in +bringing out a drive, and I hope this won't be the first time." + +"But what's your plan?" asked one. "Hadn't ye better pick one of us to go +down into that hell-hole, an' cut that key log?" + +"No, that isn't my plan," and the boss scratched the back of his head. +"I'm not going to be responsible for the carcase of any man. If I say to +one 'Go,' and he goes and gets pinched, I'll worry about it to my dying +day. I'd rather go myself first. But if we draw for it, then it's off my +shoulders, and I stand the same chance as the rest of ye. I believe that +whatever is to be will be, and the right man to go down there will be +chosen. Do you agree to that, boys?" + +"Ay, ay," came the response. "Go ahead, Tim. We'll stand by the +agreement." + +Some brown paper was accordingly found, and cut with a big jack-knife into +twenty pieces, according to the number of the men. On one of these a large +X was marked with a blue lead-pencil, which one of the men had in his +pocket. A tin lunch can was next produced, and into this the pieces of +paper were all thrown and the cover shut down tight. When the can had been +thoroughly shaken, the men came up one by one, shut their eyes, put in +their hands and drew forth a slip. A tense silence reigned during this +performance, and the hearts of these sturdy men beat fast as each glanced +at his paper to see what it contained. Jake Purdy was one of the last to +approach, and, thrusting in a huge, hairy hand, jerked forth his piece, +and as he looked upon it his face turned pale, though he said not a word +as he held up the slip for all to see the fatal X scrawled upon it. At +that instant Tony Stickles started forward, and confronted Jake. His eyes +were wide with excitement, and his long, lank figure was drawn up to its +full height. + +"You mustn't go!" he cried. "No, no! You've got six little ones at home, +an' a wife who wants ye. I'll go in yer place." + +Big Jake looked at Tony in surprise, and into his strong, determined face +came an expression of tenderness which the men had never seen before. + +"No, lad," he replied, "it can't be. The lot's fallen to me, an' I'm the +one to do it. I thank ye kindly all the same." + +Tony waited to hear no more. His eyes glanced upon an axe lying near. +Springing towards this he seized it, and before a restraining hand could +be laid upon him he bounded towards the Gorge, sprang down the bank and +leaped upon the logs. + +Big Jake rushed after him, calling and imploring him to come back. But his +cries were unheeded. Tony was now between the rocky walls, working his way +over those tossed and twisted monsters, deaf to all entreaties from the +shore. + +"Come back, Jake!" roared the men from behind. "It's no use for you to go +now. He's taken the matter into his own hands, an' one's enough." + +Reluctantly he obeyed, and stood with the rest watching with breathless +interest to see what would happen. + +Tony had now reached the front of the jam, and was carefully picking his +way to the gripping key log. Balancing himself as well as he could he +chose a spot where the strain was the greatest. Then the axe cleaved the +air, the keen blade bit the wood, and the whirling chips played about his +head. Deeper and deeper the steel ate into the side of the giant spruce. +Suddenly a report like a cannon split the air, the axe was hurled like a +rocket out into midstream to sink with a splash into the foaming eddies. +Tony turned, leaped like lightning back upon the main body of logs, and +started for the shore. But he was too late. With a roar of pent-up wrath +the mighty drive moved forward. Down through the Gorge it surged, gaining +in speed every instant from the terrible pressure behind. And down with it +went Tony, enwrapped with foam and spray. Nobly he kept his feet. He +leaped from one log to another. He dodged monster after monster, which +rose on end and threatened to strike him down. It was a wild race with +death. Should he miss his footing or lose his head only for an instant he +would have been ground to pieces in that rush of doom. The watching men +stood as if transfixed to the spot. They saw him speeding onward and +drawing nearer to the shore at the sharp bend in the stream. It looked as +if he would gain the bank, and a cheer of encouragement rang out over the +waters. But the words had scarcely died upon their lips ere they beheld +the logs part asunder right beneath Tony's feet, and with a wild cry he +plunged into the rushing current below. Frantically he clutched at the +nearest logs, and endeavoured to pull himself up from that watery grave. +At times he managed to draw himself part way out, but the swirling waters +sucked him down. It needed only a little help, but the logs were wet and +slippery, and there was nothing on which to obtain a firm grip. His body +was becoming numb from the icy waters, and at each terrible struggle he +felt himself growing weaker. He knew he could last but little longer in +such a position. Was he to drown there? His thoughts flashed to his little +home in Glendow. Were they thinking of him? he wondered. What would his +mother say when they carried her the news? Oh, if he could only feel her +strong hand in his now, how soon he would be lifted from that awful place. +Suddenly there came into his mind her parting words when he had left home. + +"Tony," she had said, "ye may be often in danger out thar in the woods. +But remember what the good Lord said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble +an' I will deliver ye.'" + +And there in the midst of that swirling death he lifted up his voice. "Oh, +Lord!" he cried, "help me! save me!" + +And even as he prayed, and made one more mighty struggle, a small hand +reached out and grasped his. It was all that was needed. He felt the +watery grip loosen, and numbed to the bone he sprawled his full length +across a big log at Dan's feet. And not a moment too soon had that helping +hand been stretched forth, for glancing back he saw the logs had closed +again, grinding and tearing as before. They had struck a wild eddy and all +was confusion. He staggered to his feet at the shock and barely escaped a +huge log which suddenly shot up from below. But Dan was not so fortunate, +for a glancing blow sent him reeling back, a helpless, pathetic little +figure. Tony was all alert now. Leaping forward he caught the unconscious +boy in his arms, and started for the shore. Then began a fierce, +determined fight, a hand-to-hand encounter with cold, relentless death. +Step by step Tony staggered forward, baffled here, retreating a few paces +there, but steadily gaining. At first he did not mind Dan's weight, but +after a few minutes the burden began to tell. He was weak anyway from the +terrible strain and experience through which he had recently passed. Could +he hold out until he reached the shore? His face was drawn and tense; his +eyes stared wildly upon those rolling, moving, writhing things beneath his +feet. They seemed like thousands of serpents trying to capture him as he +leaped from one to the other. His brain reeled; he was falling, but at +that moment he felt strong arms about him. His burden was snatched away. +He heard voices, friendly, encouraging and cheering, and then, oblivion. + +When Tony opened his eyes he found himself lying upon the shore with +several men standing near, watching him with keen interest. There was no +merriment or ridicule in their faces now, but only anxiety and sympathy. +The hearts of these rough men had been touched by what they had recently +witnessed. Most of them were with the drive, but a few had been told off +to look after the two lads. + +"Where's that boy?" asked Tony as the terrible scene flashed back into his +mind. + +"Over there," replied one, jerking his thumb to the left. + +"Is he all right?" was Tony's next query. + +"Can't say. He's not come to yet." + +At this Tony struggled to his feet, and walked slowly over to where Dan +was lying, unconscious still, and breathing hard. + +"Who is he? Where did he come from?" were the questions which these men +asked one another as they rubbed Dan's body, and bathed his forehead. + +Something white sticking from a little pocket in Dan's coat caught Tony's +eye. Reaching down he drew it forth, and as he did so the little crushed +rose dropped to the ground. One of the men picked it up and holding it in +his big, rough hand looked curiously upon it. But Tony did not notice the +flower, for his eyes were fixed upon the paper on which he saw his own +name. Slowly and with difficulty he spelled out the queer letters scrawled +there. + +"deR toNy," so the missive began. "cUm hoM qiK they say paRson John sTol +ol bilees goLD i tHINK yoU nO weR IT ISS + +"yeR friEND TruLEE + +"_Dan_." + +Tony held the letter in his hand for some minutes and stared at those +quaint words. He had heard from his mother of the death of old Billy and +the burning of his house. But of the trouble later he knew nothing, for +letters from home had been few. Now a new light dawned upon his mind. +Something must be wrong, and this lad had come all the way for him! But +who was Dan? He had never seen nor heard of him before. + +"As he stood there Big Sam drew near. He started with surprise as he saw +the boy lying on the ground, his little pale face resting upon a rough +coat. + +"What! what's this?" he exclaimed. "Why, this is the boy who came with me +to-day! Has he fallen into the stream? I warned him to be careful." + +"Poor boy! poor boy!" he remarked when the story of the brave deed had +been related. "Do you think he's badly hurt?" + +"Can't say," replied one. "But do ye know who he is?" + +"Yes," and Big Sam in a few words told all that he knew. + +"We must get him away from this as soon as possible," said the former +speaker. "He needs the doctor. Where had we better take him?" + +"Look here, boys," said Sam after a moment's thought. "As soon as those +horses have munched their oats they shall head for home. I'll take the boy +with me, and my wife will care for him. The doctor lives near." + +Tony stood by listening to it all with his eyes fixed intently upon Dan's +face, while his hand still clutched the letter. He was weak, and ready to +drop. But a burning desire throbbed within his breast. He partly realized +the situation at Glendow. There was trouble, deep, serious trouble, and he +was needed. + + + + +Chapter XXV + +Beneath the Ashes + + +Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on +the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs. Not a ripple disturbed +the surface of the noble river, or the waters of the little creek lying +between its semi-wooded banks. It was a balmy spring evening when the +whole world seemed at peace. On a night such as this new longings and +aspirations swell the heart, and the blood tingles joyfully through the +body. Stephen had remained after the rest of the men had gone home. He +wished to examine the logs to see that the work was well done. As he now +stood on the shore his thoughts were not upon the glassy river or Nature's +loveliness. His mind was disturbed. All through the winter he had been +looking forward to the time when the logs would be floating there secured +by their wooden bonds. He had planned to have Nellie come to see the +completion of his work. He knew how she would rejoice at what he had +accomplished, and in his mind he had heard her words of congratulation. +But now all was changed. The work was done, but Nellie was not there to +behold his victory. How lonely seemed the parish since her departure. He +had thrown himself with great energy into his task, and the days had sped +by. But, try as he might, he could not free himself from the weight which +pressed upon his heart. Everything in the parish moved on as before. The +new clergyman came, and service had been held in the church as usual. Many +spoke favourably of the new man. He was young, full of spirit, and a +clear, forcible speaker. But to Stephen it was not the same as formerly. +He missed the white-haired, venerable man in his accustomed place. The +moment he entered the church his eyes sought the seat where Nellie always +sat. It was empty. That form so dear to him was not there. He saw her +Prayer Book and Hymn Book in the little rack, and a lump came into his +throat, as he knew they would not be used. + +He thought of these things, standing there on the shore. His tall, manly +figure was drawn to its full height. He gazed straight before. It was a +far-off vision he beheld, and suddenly there came into his heart a peace +such as he had not known since she left. She seemed to be very near, +standing right by his side. He saw her face, beheld her eyes looking into +his, and heard her voice bidding him to be of good cheer, and to look up. + +A sound near by startled him. He glanced quickly around, half expecting to +see Nellie standing there. Instead, however, he beheld the tall, lank form +of Tony Stickles approaching. His face was gaunt, his step weak and slow. +But Stephen did not notice these, so surprised was he to see him. + +"Tony!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, "where did you drop from? I +thought you were on the big drive." + +"So I was, Steve," Tony replied, taking a seat upon a large boulder. + +"Didn't get fired, eh?" + +To this Tony made no response. He looked thoughtfully before him for a +while. + +"Say, Steve," he at length remarked. "How's Parson John?" + +"He's gone, Tony. Driven from Glendow." + +"What!" and Tony sprang to his feet in excitement. "When did he leave?" + +"Last week." + +"Then I'm too late! I was afraid of it! But I came fast--I ran sometimes; +but it was no use. Is he in the lockup?" + +"In the lockup! What do you mean?" and Stephen stared at him in amazement. + +From the depth of a capacious pocket Tony brought forth Dan's soiled +letter, and held it up. + +"Read that," he said. "It's all I know." + +Quickly Stephen scanned the quaint words, drinking in almost intuitively +the meaning of it all. + +"Did Dan give you this?" he demanded. + +"Yes." + +"And where is the boy now?" + +Tony's eyes dropped at the question, and he did not answer. + +"Is anything wrong?" Stephen insisted. + +"Yes, I'm afraid so. But set down close, Steve. I've somethin' great to +tell ye." + +And sitting there in the dusk of even Tony poured into his companion's +ears the story of that terrible scene in Giant Gorge, and of Dan's brave +deed. + +Stephen listened spell-bound to the tale. The meaning of Dan's departure +was all clear now. While people had been blaming the lad as an ungrateful +runaway he had fared forth in loving service on behalf of his guardians. A +mistiness blurred Stephen's eyes as Tony paused. + +"Where is Dan now?" he asked. + +"At Big Sam's house. We brought 'im down on the waggon, an' I helped carry +'im in." + +"Who is Big Sam?" + +"Oh, he's the teamster. The booms are near his place whar the raftin' will +be done. Sam hauls the stuff fer the gang." + +"And you don't know how badly Dan is hurt?" + +"No, I came away at once. I wanted to help the old parson. An' say, Steve, +did they find the gold?" + +"Find it? No. And I don't think they will now. It's a great mystery." + +"An' they say the parson took it?" + +"Yes, some do." + +"An' didn't they find the iron box?" + +"No." + +"Did they look beneath the ashes?" + +"They searched every nook and corner, and even sifted the ashes, but could +find nothing." + +"An' didn't Billy say nuthin'?" + +"No, he was too weak. He tried to speak after the parson had carried him +out, but no one could understand him." + +Tony did not speak for a while, but remained lost in thought. + +"Steve," he at length remarked. "I'd like to go to that old place. Will ye +go with me?" + +"What! to-night?" + +"Yes, right away." + +"It will be dark there now, Tony. Why not wait until morning?" + +"No, no. I must go to-night. We kin git a lantern, an' I want a shovel, +too. Will ye come?" + +"Yes, if you want me," was Stephen's reluctant reply. "But you might as +well save yourself the trouble. The place has been so thoroughly searched +by daylight that I don't see we can do much at night. Anyway, I shall go +with you." + +Together they moved on their way up the road, Stephen carrying his peevy +upon his shoulder. As they came to the store he stopped. + +"Wait here, Tony," he said, "till I run in and get the mail. I shall be +only a minute." + +Entering the building he found Farrington sitting behind the counter +writing. He looked up as Stephen entered, and laid down his pen. He was +affable to all now, for election day was but a week off, and he needed +every vote. + +"Raftin' all done, Steve?" he asked as he handed out the mail. + +"Yes, all finished," was the reply. + +"Ye'll be to the p'litical meetin' to-night, Steve, won't ye?" + +"Oh, I had forgotten all about it." + +"But ye must come. I want ye to hear what I hev to say. Gadsby'll be thar, +an' I've got a dose fer 'im which he won't soon fergit. I'll show 'im a +thing or two, an' the people'll learn that they need a real, live +practical man for councillor. Ye must certainly come." + +"I'm not sure that I can come," Stephen replied. "I have an engagement +to-night. I may be there, however, if I can get through in time. But I +must be off now; Tony's waiting for me." + +At these last words Farrington started, and an expression of concern swept +over his face. He leaned anxiously forward and looked intently at Stephen. + +"Did ye say that Tony Stickles is out thar?" + +"Yes. He has just arrived." + +"Why, w--what's he back so soon fer?" + +"Special business, so he tells me. But I must be off." + +Stephen noted Farrington's remarkable interest in Tony's return, and +wondered what it meant. He had no mind to tell him about Dan, for he +preferred to have as few words as possible with this man who was such a +thorn in the flesh. He left Farrington standing in the door and proceeded +with Tony up the road. As they moved along he noticed how his companion +lagged behind. Usually he was such a rapid walker, and this slowness was a +surprise to Stephen. + +"Are you not well, Tony?" he asked. + +"I'm all right," was the reply. "I've had a long walk to-day." + +"Since when?" + +"Daybreak." + +"And did you rest?" + +"No." + +"Look here," and Stephen faced sharply about "Have you had anything to eat +to-day?" + +Tony's face flushed, and he gave a slight, evasive laugh. But Stephen was +not to be put off. + +"No, that won't do. I want to know. Have you been walking all day without +any food?" + +"Oh, I didn't mind, Steve. I was in a hurry to get home. Besides I--" + +"Yes, I know," interrupted Stephen. "You didn't have your pay, and were +too proud to beg. Oh, you're a great one. But you shall have supper with +me at once before you go digging among those ashes." + +For a while Tony was stubborn, but in the end Stephen led him off in +triumph. Supper was ready, and Mrs. Frenelle gave the visitor a hearty +welcome, and in his own quaint way he told of his work in the woods, and +his experience on the drive. + +"I feel like a new man," he said, rising from the table. "I was about +tuckered out. Now I'm ready fer that bizness up yon. Guess we'll turn up +somethin' tonight, or my name ain't Tony Stickles." + +It was quite dark by the time they reached the ruins of the old house. The +lantern threw its fitful light over the charred sticks and blackened +stones. + +"My! this is a scary place!" Tony exclaimed as he glanced around. "Poor +old Billy was good to me, an' many a square meal I've had here. Now let's +begin operations." + +The wreck of the old-fashioned chimney stood out gaunt and desolate, while +the large fire-place was filled with sticks and stones. These Tony began +to clear away, tossing them far from the foundation. Placing the lantern +in a secure position, Stephen assisted him in his task. Why he did so he +could not tell, but there was something so sure and masterful about Tony's +words and actions that he felt compelled to do something. + +"Now fer the shovel, Steve. We'll soon see what's here," and Tony began to +dig up ashes and earth in a lively manner. "I think this is the place. +Yes, right down under the big hearth-stone, a little to the right. He told +me about it time an' time agin. Poor Billy! Poor Billy! Ye never thought +it 'ud come to this." + +Stephen was all attention now. He watched Tony, digging and talking, +uncertain whether the lad was really in his right mind. Had the fearful +experience in Giant Gorge turned his brain? he wondered. He had read of +such things. There was something uncanny about the way Tony talked to +himself, and, brave though he was, a strange feeling crept through +Stephen's body, making him long to be away from the spot. And still the +digging went on, down through the yielding soil. + +"Should be here purty close," Tony remarked. "Under the hearth-stone, well +to the right. I ought to be near--Hello! what's this?" + +The exclamation was caused by the point of the shovel striking something +hard. Again and again the thrust was made, and each time a hollow sound +was produced. + +"It's it! It's it!" shouted Tony, now much excited. "I knowed it was +here," and he dug away frantically, until presently an iron box about a +foot long and six inches wide was exposed to view. Throwing aside the +shovel, he seized the treasure with both hands, tore it from its +hiding-place and held it aloft. + +"Look, Steve!" he cried, trembling with excitement, "I knowed thar was +somethin' here!" + +Stephen was now as much aroused as Tony. "What's in it, do you think?" he +asked. + +"Gold! that's what's in it! Ye'll soon see," and Tony pulled back a little +iron pin and threw up the cover. As he did so he gave a cry of surprise, +for the light falling upon the interior showed nothing there but a few +pieces of paper. Tony rubbed his eyes in amazement, and then looked at +Stephen. + +"Whar's that gold?" he fiercely demanded. "What has become of it?" + +Stephen scarcely heard him, for a terrible idea had flashed into his mind. +Someone had taken it, and was it--? He hardly dare let the name beat for +an instant through his brain. It was cruel. No, no, it could not be! That +white-haired man of God would not stoop to such a thing! But where was the +gold? + +The moon rose clear and full above the distant horizon. It seemed to ask +silently the same question. A dog from a farm-house up the road split the +air with its hoarse bark of wonder. Stephen placed his hand to his +forehead in an abstracted manner. Then he glanced at the box, and the +papers lying therein arrested his attention. He reached down and took them +in his hand. They were tied with an old piece of tarred twine, and were +much blackened and soiled. Drawing forth the first and holding it close to +the lantern, Stephen read the brief words recorded there. It took him but +a minute to do this, and then followed an exclamation which gave Tony a +distinct start. + +"What is it, Steve?" he asked. "What hev ye found?" + +"Read this, and judge for yourself," Stephen replied, thrusting the paper +into his companion's hands. + +As Tony spelled out the words his eyes bulged with astonishment. + +"Oh, Steve!" he gasped, "I'm so glad it isn't the parson. But do ye think +this is all right?" + +"It. looks like it. See the date, November 10th of last year. And notice, +too, these words 'for safe keeping' and 'until called for.' Why, it's as +plain as day. Then, here's the amount, 'five thousand dollars, all in +gold, to be left in the iron box marked with a cross in white paint.'" + +"Say, Tony," Stephen asked, "did Billy have such a box, another one like +this?" + +"Why, yes, I do remember one very well. It was smaller than this; 'twas +stouter an' had a lock an' key. He kept some papers an' loose change in +it. It allus sot on the old mantel-piece over the fire-place." + +"Tony!" said Stephen, looking hard at the paper, "if that box of gold is +there yet, and that man has been silent and let another take the blame, +it's the smallest, vilest piece of work of which I ever heard." + +"Sure 'tis, an' I say let's go an' ax 'im 'bout it." + +"But he's at the meeting now." + +"Well, all the better. It's right that the people should hear. But say, +Steve, what's that other paper?" + +"Oh, I forgot it. Maybe it will explain things further." + +"Why, it's Billy's will!" cried Stephen, running his eyes over the closely +written sheets, "and he's left the whole of his property, gold, farm and +all, to you." + +"To me! To me!" exclaimed Tony. "Ye must be mistaken." + +"Read it for yourself, then," and Stephen passed over the will. "It's all +there in black and white." + +As Tony read, his face flushed, and his hands clutched the paper in the +intensity of his feelings. His eyes flashed as he turned them hard upon +Stephen. + +"I understand now!" he cried. "That villain has tried to cheat me outer +all this. He thought the will an' everythin' else was burned. But he was +mistaken. Oh, yes, he didn't know what was beneath the ashes. Come, Steve, +let's go an' ax 'im a few questions. Mebbe he'll explain things. Anyway +we'll give 'im a chance. Come, let's hurry!" + + + + +Chapter XXVI + +A Rope of Sand + + +Silas Farrington was much disturbed by Tony Stickles' arrival in Glendow. +He had always laughed at the lad, considering him a stupid, ungainly +creature. Occasionally he had overtaken Tony on the road trudging wearily +along, but it had never occurred to him to offer him a seat in his waggon +or sleigh. + +"It spiles sich people," he had often said, "to take too much notice of +'em. They have a sartin place in life, an' should be made to keep it." But +standing in the store that evening after Stephen's departure, the despised +Tony occupied an important place in his mind. He would have laughed to +scorn anyone who had suggested such a thing. But down deep in his heart, +small and narrow though it was, dwelt considerable unrest. "What had the +lad come back for?" he asked himself over and over again. "What was the +special business which brought him so unexpectedly? Did he know anything?" +Harrington's face twitched as he thought of these things. He strode up and +down in the store. Once he paused before the safe standing in the corner, +and looked long and thoughtfully upon it. A muttered curse escaped his +lips. This was succeeded by a scornful laugh. "What a fool I am!" he +exclaimed, "to worry about sich things! What is thar to find out? Let 'em +do their best and be damned! We'll see who holds the stoutest and longest +rope. That Steve Frenelle's a cur, an' I hate 'im. He's jist the one to +stir up trouble. I've suspected 'im all along. He knows too much fer one +of his age. Wait 'till I'm councillor, an' then I'll show 'im a thing or +two." Waggons rattling along the road startled him. He glanced at his +watch. "My! I didn't know 'twas so late; almost time for the meetin'. I +must git ready." + +The big public hall of Glendow was packed to the door. People came from +all over the parish to this political meeting, for lively scenes were +expected. The two candidates opposed to each other were to be there to +discuss various problems of local interest. On the front seat sat Mrs. +Farrington, Eudora and Dick. + +Philip Gadsby was the first speaker. He was a man tall and somewhat thin, +with a kind, thoughtful face. His voice was soft, well modulated, and his +words carefully chosen. There was nothing of the orator about him, in fact +his speech was somewhat of a hesitating nature. But he was possessed of a +convincing manner, and all who were there knew they were listening to a +man who was more than his words, and that what he said he would endeavour +to accomplish to the best of his ability. He spoke about the needs of the +parish, better roads, improvement of the schools, and the efforts which +should be made to form an agricultural society in Glendow, which was +essentially a farming community. + +"Our watchword," he said in conclusion, "should be progress. Look at our +roads. Money is spent upon them every season, but not in an intelligent +way. We find men at times appointed roadmasters who seldom drive over the +highway. Mud and sods are heaped up in the centre in a confused fashion, +late in the fall. Let us do less, do it well, and use more gravel. Look at +our schools. The buildings are old, ill equipped, and sometimes fifty to +sixty children are crowded into one room fitted only to accommodate +twenty, and one teacher to manage all. And we do need an agricultural +society. We are farmers. We need to read, study, meet together and hear +addresses from experts. New methods are employed elsewhere, while we are +behind the times. Yes, we must advance. I have the welfare of the parish +at heart, and whether elected or not I shall still take my part in the +forward movement." + +Often during the speech Gadsby was greeted with cheers and clapping, for +those present realized the effectiveness of what he said, and he sat down +amid great applause. + +It was then that Farrington rose to his feet and mounted the platform. He +had listened to Gadsby's speech with amused tolerance, and occasionally +whispered something to his wife sitting by his side. He was a man +possessed of an abundance of words, and he turned his attention at once +upon the first speaker. Gadsby had made no personal allusion to his +opponent. He simply stated his case and ceased. But not so Farrington. +From the first word he uttered he began to pour forth contempt and +ridicule. He laughed at Gadsby's ideas of progress. + +"I think we're purty well advanced," he shouted. "The schools an' roads +are good enough fer me. Progress means more money, an' more money means +bigger taxes. The children of Glendow are well supplied, an' as fer the +roads they're good enough. As fer an agricultural society--well," and here +he cast a significant look at Gadsby, "them who talk sich things had +better look at their own farms. Before I go out shoutin' about progress I +had better be sure that my own bizness is on a good footin'. I generally +find that sich people spend too much time gaddin' about instid of +attendin' to their own home affairs." + +And thus Farrington talked for over an hour. He wandered off into all +kinds of subjects, made jokes at which the boys laughed, and told funny +stories. He imagined he was putting his hearers in good humour, and he +took their cheers and stamping as signs of approval. But he little knew +what the serious-minded were thinking about. They were slow of speech, but +they were keen observers, and they were mentally comparing the two +candidates before them. Farrington knew nothing of this. He was in a +rollicking, fine humour. He felt pleased with the people for their +apparent approval, but more pleased with himself for the speech he was +making. "I'm real glad to see so many of yez here," he said in conclusion. +"I think nearly all the voters are present, at any rate every family is +represented. Now if any of yez would like to ax a question I shall be glad +fer 'im to do so. I take it that the meetin' is open fer free discussion." + +"Guess I've made a hit," Farrington whispered to his wife as he resumed +his seat by her side. "The people know a good thing when they find it." + +"Ye done well, Si," was the reply. "I'm sartinly proud of ye. Thar's no +doubt now about yer election." + +The clapping and stamping had not ceased ere a man was noticed pushing his +way through the crowd to the front of the hall. As he mounted the platform +the noise suddenly stopped, for all were much surprised to see Stephen +Frenelle standing there. Never before had he been known to do such a +thing, especially at a political meeting. What could he have to say? All +wondered. And Stephen, too, was surprised. He was not accustomed to public +speaking, and shrank from the thought of facing so many people. But he was +very calm now, and in his eyes flashed a light which bespoke danger. In +his right hand he clutched several papers, which all noted. He looked +steadily over the heads of the people before speaking, and an almost +breathless silence ensued. + +"You wonder why I am here," he began at length. "I am not used to the +platform, and only a matter of great importance would ever make me mount +it. The last speaker has given permission for all to ask questions. He has +said that nearly all the voters are here, and that every family is +represented. I will tell you of one voter who is not here, one who on an +occasion like this was generally present. I need hardly mention his name, +for you all know. I now ask why isn't Parson John with us to-night?" He +paused as if for an answer, and looked into the faces before him. "You all +know," he continued, "as well as I do. Because he was actually driven from +the parish. He left it almost a heart-broken man." + +At these words, Farrington sprang to his feet. + +"What has all this nonsense to do with the election?" he cried. "He's out +of order, an' I appeal to the chairman to stop 'im." + +"Hear! hear!" yelled several. "Go ahead, Steve!" shouted others. + +"Yes, I intend to go ahead," replied the latter. "You will find out, Mr. +Farrington, before I am through the meaning of my words, and perhaps I +will not be the only one out of order. It's more likely to be disorder. + +"I was asking the question when I was interrupted, 'Why was Parson John +driven from the parish?' Because of vile stories which were circulated +about him. And what were those stories? You know as well as I do. I need +not mention them all; of one only shall I speak. When old Billy Fletcher's +house was burned to the ground, and the gold which he was supposed to have +could not be found, what did some say? That Parson John took it. Yes, +that's what they said, and you all know it. I've heard it ever since then. +His friends knew it was a lie, but what could they say? What proof could +they bring forward? I now ask you what became of that gold? It is a secret +no longer. The witness is here," and Stephen held the papers aloft. The +silence which now pervaded the hall was most intense. Every ear was +strained to its utmost, and every eye was fixed full upon that up-lifted +hand. + +"Here is my witness," repeated Stephen, "and I ask the man, the last +speaker, whose name is signed to this paper, to stand up and give us an +explanation." + +During the latter part of this speech, Farrington had turned as white as +death. He sat bolt upright, with his hands clutching convulsively the edge +of the seat. He felt that something terrible was pending, and a horrible, +craven fear overwhelmed him! He knew that paper held up there only too +well. It was simply a sheet of cheap writing-paper, and yet it was his +ruin. It was damning him as a scoundrel and a sneak in the presence of +these people! + +"Cannot the last speaker explain how his name happens to be here and what +he knows about that gold?" + +These words fell like the knell of doom upon Farrington's ears. What was +he to do? But something must be done. + +"What d'ye mean?" he gasped. "What d'ye want me to explain?" + +"About this writing." + +"What writin', an' whar did ye git any writin' of mine? It's some mean +trick!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "This villain has come here fer +the purpose of injurin' me! I tell ye it's false! it's false!" + +"But what about this?" Stephen insisted, calmly holding up one of the +papers. "And there are others." + +"What is it? What is it? Read it, Steve," came the cry from the audience. + +"I say it's false!" shouted Farrington, springing again to his feet, his +face blanched with terror. "It's a mean trick! Put the villain out! Will +ye let an honest man be put upon in this way?" + +"Read the paper, Steve," urged several. "Let's know what's the matter. We +don't understand this fuss." + +Farrington made a pathetic figure as he stood there uncertain what to do. +He knew he was in a trap, but he had not the moral courage to stand up and +face the worst like a man. Had he done so there were many who would have +pitied him. But he blustered and raved and threatened what he would do. + +"If that man will be still for a few minutes," said Stephen, "I shall tell +you what these papers contain." + +"Sit down, Farrington!" came a general yell. "We'll hear you later." + +"Now," began Stephen. "I shall read this one first. It is not long. + +"'To-day October 30, 18-- I placed the sum of $5,000 in gold in Silas +Farrington's safe for him to keep until called for. The money is locked in +a stout, iron box marked with a cross with white paint. I do not like +banks--they are not to be depended upon, and are always failing. This +seems to be the best place to put my money. I am to give Mr. Farrington +one dollar a month for the use of the safe. 'WILLIAM FLETCHER.'" + +As Stephen finished the reading, a movement took place among the people +and angry, threatening words were interchanged. + +"It's a lie!" yelled Farrington. "It's made up to ruin me! Will ye believe +sich a story?" + +"Just wait a minute," continued Stephen, holding forth another small piece +of paper. Here is further evidence which might be of some service. Listen +to this. + +"'Glendow, Friday, Oct. 30th, 18-- Received from William Fletcher, the sum +of $5,000 in gold, in an iron box, to be kept for him in trust in my safe +until called for, he promising to pay me one dollar a month for the use of +my safe. 'SILAS FARRINGTON.'" + +An intense silence now reigned in the hall. All were waiting to see what +would happen next. It was the calm before the storm. The people were more +than surprised, they were dumfounded at this sudden turn of events. The +purpose of the meeting was forgotten. Then one wild cry went up. There was +confusion everywhere, all talking and shouting at once. At this the +chairman rose to his feet, and held up his hand for peace. Gradually the +commotion subsided, and all waited to hear what he had to say. + +"We are much astonished at what has happened," he began. "It is a very +serious matter. These papers are of a most damaging nature to one of the +candidates here to-night. He has emphatically denied the statements made +therein. But we demand further proof. Let him now come forward and speak. +Perhaps he can explain matters fully." + +"Hear! Hear!" came from every part of the building. + +Half dazed and trembling, Farrington staggered forward, and grasped the +back of a chair for support. + +"It's a lie, I tell ye!" he shouted. "But I want to ax one question. Whar +did them papers come from? Ye all know very well that everything was +burned which old Billy had in the house. Not a scrap of anything was left, +and how did them papers escape? That's proof enough to show what a mean +trick has been played upon me. I am the one to ax fer an explanation." + +"That shall be granted at once," Stephen replied, and in a few words he +told of Tony Stickles' arrival, their search beneath the large +hearth-stone, and the discovery of the iron box containing the valuable +papers. + +"Tony is here," said Stephen in conclusion, "and if you do not believe me, +ask him." + +But there was no need for Tony's witness. The evidence was already strong +enough, and the people were aroused. + +"Mr. Farrington," said the chairman, motioning the audience to be quiet. +"If you have that gold in your safe, it will save considerable trouble if +you produce it at once. If it is there and you have kept silence and +allowed that man of God to suffer, you deserve the severest punishment. Is +it the wish of the people here that the safe should be opened?" + +"Ay, ay!" came like a roar of thunder. + +"Ye can't do it!" yelled Farrington, rising to his feet. "It's my private +property, an' I defy anyone to touch my safe." + +"Oh, we'll not touch it," the chairman coolly remarked. "We'll not lay +hands on it. All we ask you to do is to throw open the door and show us +what's inside." + +"It ain't lawful, I say," shouted the desperate man. + +"Maybe it isn't lawful. But we'll attend to that, I reckon. Sometimes +people take the law into their own hands, and I guess that's what we'll do +to-night. In my opinion there's not a judge or a jury in the whole land +but would support our action. Come now, you'd better do as we desire at +once." + +Farrington, excited though he was, found it necessary to do some rapid +thinking. He knew he could not delay that angry assembly much longer. One +hope only remained, and upon this he acted. + +"Very well," he replied, "I might as well go at once. Come when you like, +you kin examine everything in the safe. I'm not afeer'd fer ye to look." + +He took a step or two forward with the intention of leaving. + +"Wait a minute," said the chairman. "Don't be in too big a hurry. We'll go +along with you. It's always good to have company on such occasions." + +"I don't want anyone," snapped Farrington, turning angrily upon him. + +"No, I know you don't. But we're not considering your feelings just now." + +"Then, I'll not go! Do what you like with me!" and Farrington sank back +upon the seat, a pitiable bundle of wretched humanity. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + +In the Toils + + +During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained +motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great +rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a +way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was +changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited +condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but +thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours +would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How +the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing +the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had +he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which +took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman +ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his +safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave +one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor. + +At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through +the crowd into the open air. + +Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the +seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair. + +"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through +with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night. +Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?" + +No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very +well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?" + +"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a +number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now. +They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an +innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington +committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in +this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months, +stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the +bounds of reason. + +"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him. + +"Will you come, then?" + +"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply. + +"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door, +he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and +almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the +road. The store was reached. + +"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it." + +This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building. + +"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there." + +But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man +who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to +the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from +the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his +gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for +their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only +between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused. +How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his +forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body. + +"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around. + +A yell was the only response to his appeal. + +"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a +coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands +outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go +up to the first limb." + +"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long +piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out +the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure +would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in +this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the +noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe. +With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination +would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and +more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality +he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length +the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron +hinges. + +"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman. + +One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back +corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark +upon it. + +A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of +derision. + +"Order!" commanded the chairman. + +"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?" + +"Y-y-es." + +"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame +for stealing it?" + +"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I +was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything." + +There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear +did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the +sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then +a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried +forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place, +making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors +flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar +used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and +the odour was pouring forth. + +"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help! +Murder!" + +But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his +clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered +feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless. +He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very +ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were +handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they +watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair. + +When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped +out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main +store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It +had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and +cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding +feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he +presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and +feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing +what to expect. + +"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house, +"and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for +yourself and family." + +As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood +back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store +to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes +could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at +length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep +sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with +Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did +not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective +remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in +righteous indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the +cat-o'-nine-tails or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in +accordance with the British Constitution it is certainly the most +effective way of dealing with some mean, contemptible cases. And +Farrington's was one of them. With clever legal counsel he might be able +to prove that he was acting within his right in holding the money "until +called for," according to the wording of the paper he had signed, while +the real motive that prompted him to keep silence might not be considered +at all. + +Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried +home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left +for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair +and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been +suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness. +He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned +how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see +her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so +unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was +she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was +unbearable without her sweet, loving presence. + +At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to +sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might +his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man, +with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why +should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as +soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once? +Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole +softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and +turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of +paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his +mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to +find it in the morning. + +Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn. +His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in +resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of +the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as +Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then +the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider +sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills. + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +Waiting and Serving + + +"I feel completely side-tracked now. Life moves forward, but here I am a +useless burden." + +It was Parson John who spoke, as he leaned back in an easy-chair and gazed +dreamily out of the window. + +Nellie laid down the book she had been reading aloud and looked anxiously +at her father. This was the third day they had been at Morristown, and it +was the first time her father had uttered any word of complaint. The +change had been restful, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been +so many things to see and to talk about with his brother that he hardly +missed the separation from Glendow. A sense of glad freedom had been his. +There was no responsibility of parish work, and no long, tiresome drives +ahead. He need not worry about sermons for the following Sunday, nor feel +concerned for any who might be sick. It was a luxury to sit there quietly +in the large, airy room with the fresh breath of spring pervading the +place, and to watch the trees putting forth their tender leaves and the +fields donning their robe of green, yellow and white. Occasionally Nellie +read to him from some favourite author, although much of her time was +taken up helping her aunt with various household duties. The change which +she beheld in her father caused her much joy. "It is just what he needs," +she thought. "A good rest will restore him more than anything else." So +now on this bright afternoon to hear him complain of being side-tracked, +of no use in the world, worried her. + +"You must remember, father dear," she replied, "it is well to be +side-tracked sometimes. Engines are often laid by for repairs, and I have +heard you say that we need rest that mind and body might be strengthened." + +"True, very true, Nellie. But I seem to be useless. There are so many +things to be done, and but little time in which to do them. When one has +been engaged in a work for over thirty years it is not easy to lay it +suddenly aside. It becomes part of one's life. Some may think that rest is +sitting still and doing nothing. But to me such a thought is terrible. +'Rest,' as a great poet has well said, 'is not quitting life's busy +career. Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere!'" + +"Yes, father, but did not blind old Milton say that 'They also serve who +only stand and wait.'" + +"But how am I serving, Nellie? What is there for me to do here? I sit all +day long and think, while others serve me." + +"Father," Nellie replied after a brief silence, "I believe a stroll would +do you good. You have been staying in the house too much. I have +discovered some very pleasant walks out from the village, and, if it will +not weary you, suppose we start off now." + +Her father looked up quickly at the suggestion. + +"Capital!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I need. I am becoming too moody, +and the fresh air will revive me." + +He was almost like a child now in his eagerness to be off. With his stout +cane in one hand, and leaning upon his daughter's arm, he moved slowly +along the dry road, through the village and out into the country where the +houses were few. + +"Oh, this is life, grand, true life!" and he stood for a few minutes +looking far away across the broad fields. The air laden with the freshness +of spring drifted about them; the birds flitting overhead were pouring +forth their joyous music, while on every side early flowers were lifting +their tiny heads. All nature seemed to combine to give a glad welcome to +these two wayfarers. + +At length, coming to a cross road, Nellie paused. + +"Look, father," and she pointed to a large tree near by. "What a cool, +shady spot! Suppose we rest there for a while, and I will read some from +the little book I have brought with me." + +Willingly Mr. Westmore conceded to her wish, and soon they were snugly +seated on the grassy sward. With his back against the tree, Parson John +breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead +with a large, white handkerchief. + +So absorbed did they both become in the book that neither noticed the +black clouds which had been gathering away to the south, and were now +rolling up fearful and threatening beneath the sun. A distant peal of +thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning, startled them. + +"A storm is coming!" exclaimed Nellie, springing to her feet. "We must +hurry home at once! The road to the right is shorter. I know it quite +well; we had better take that." + +They had not proceeded far, however, before the peals of thunder became +more intense, and soon large drops of rain came spattering down. + +"We're in for a heavy storm," panted Mr. Westmore. "It's about to burst +upon us. We must seek shelter!" + +"There's a house right ahead," Nellie replied. "Perhaps we can get in +there." + +They plodded on in silence now, and turned in at a little gate none too +soon. Scarcely had they entered the small porch in front of the house ere +the storm broke. Hail, mingled with rain, came thundering down upon the +roof, and, dashing against the glass, threatened to smash in every pane. +The thunder crashed and shook the house, while the lightning streaked the +air with blinding flashes. + +"This is terrible!" exclaimed Nellie, clinging to her father's arm, her +face very white. "We must get into the house!" + +They knocked upon the door, but received no response. Again they rapped +louder than before, and at length a key was slowly turned and a woman, +neatly dressed and fair to look upon, peered timidly forth. A relieved +look came into her face as she saw the two standing there. + +"Come in," she said, giving a little nervous laugh. "This fearful storm +has quite overcome me." + +She led the way into a cosy sitting-room, and offered her visitors chairs. + +"You will pardon our intrusion, I am sure," explained Mr. Westmore. "We +came simply for shelter. We are much obliged to you." + +"Not at all, sir," replied the woman. "I am so glad you came. I am alone +with the children, and they are all much frightened." + +"And your husband is away?" + +"Yes. He's been gone all winter. He was working in the woods for Rodgers & +Peterson, and is now on the drive." + +"Dear me! it must be hard for you to have him away so much." + +"It is, sir. But he will stay home after this. He has earned enough this +winter to make the last payment on our farm. We have been struggling for +years, saving every cent and working hard to get the place free from debt, +and now it will be our very own if--if--," and the woman hesitated. + +"How glad your husband will be to be home," said Nellie, with her eyes +fixed upon several bright little faces in the doorway. "He must long to +see you all." + +"Ay, indeed he does, but especially Doris. She is our invalid girl, you +see, and is very dear to us. She can't romp and play like the others, and +I suppose for that reason she appeals to us the more." + +"Has she been ill long?" questioned Mr. Westmore, becoming now much +interested. + +"For five years. It's hip disease, and she will never walk without a +crutch, if she does then. Perhaps you would like to see her." + +They were conducted into a small bedroom, and the sight which met their +eyes moved them both. Lying on the bed was a girl of about fifteen years +of age, with a sweet, fair face, large, expressive eyes, and a high +forehead crowned by a wealth of jet-black hair, parted in the middle and +combed back with considerable care. The room was as neat and clean as +loving hands could make it. A bright smile illumined the girl's face, +which Nellie thought the most beautiful she had ever looked upon. + +"It's so good of you to come to see me," she said. "Very few come, and I +do get lonely at times." + +"You will be glad when your father comes home, will you not?" Nellie +remarked, taking the girl's thin, white hand. + +"Oh, it will be delightful! He has been away so long. Let me see," and she +counted on her fingers. "He has not been home since Christmas." + +"But he writes to you, though?" + +"Yes, such lovely letters, all about his work. But the last one was so +sad. I have cried over it many times. I have it right here. Would you like +to read it? It's so interesting." + +"Suppose you tell us about it, dear," said Mr. Westmore, taking a chair by +the side of the bed. "That will be better." + +The girl's face flushed a little, and she hesitated. + +"I'm afraid I can't tell it half as well as father does in his letter. You +know, the men were bringing the logs down Big Creek Brook, and they all +got stuck in a nasty place called Giant Gorge. One big log in some way, I +don't understand, stopped the rest, and it had to be cut out. It was a +dangerous thing to do, and the men drew lots to see who would go down into +that awful place. And just think, papa drew the paper with the mark upon +it, which meant that he was to do it! I shudder and cry every time I think +about it. Well, as dear papa was about to go, a young man, Tony Stickles, +sprang forward and said he would go, because papa had six children and a +wife who needed him. Wasn't that lovely of him? I should like to see him. +And just think, before papa could stop him he sprang upon the logs, cut +away the one which held the rest, and all rushed down right on top of him. +Papa said he was sure Tony would be killed, but he jumped from one log to +another, and when all thought he would get to the shore, the logs opened +and he fell into the water. Then something wonderful happened, so papa +said. As Tony was clinging there a boy suddenly came along, jumped upon +the logs, ran over them, and pulled Tony out just in time. But a log hit +the poor little boy, and Tony had to carry him ashore. Don't you think +that's a lovely story, and weren't they both very brave, real heroes like +you read about in books? Oh, I lie here hour by hour and think it all +over!" + +The girl's face was quite flushed now, for she had spoken hurriedly, and +her eyes shone brighter than ever. She was living the scene she related. + +"What a nice story you have told us," Nellie replied when Doris had +finished. "I am glad to hear what a brave deed Tony did, for we both know +him." + +"What! you know him?" cried the girl. + +"Yes, very well. Ever since he was a baby." + +"How nice it must be to know a real hero!" sighed the girl. "Please tell +me about him." + +And there in the little room Nellie told about Tony, his mother, brothers +and sisters, to which Doris listened most eagerly. + +"We must go now," said Mr. Westmore rising to his feet and looking out of +the window. "The storm has cleared and the sun is shining brightly." + +"But you will both come again, won't you?" Doris inquired as she held out +her hand. + +"Yes, if you want us to do so," Nellie replied. "But we don't wish to tire +you." + +"You won't tire me. I long for someone to talk to, and you know so much." + +Parson John had now left the room, and Nellie was holding the girl's hand. +She glanced at the door to make sure that her father could not hear, then +she bent over the bed. + +"Did your father tell you the name of that boy who saved Tony's life?" + +"No. He said he didn't know." + +"Did he say what he was doing there?" + +"No, only he had a funny little letter for Tony. It was in his pocket, and +when they opened it a small rose fell out." + +"And he didn't say what the letter was about?" + +"No." + +"Thank you, dear, I must go now," and as Nellie stooped down and gave the +girl a kiss, Doris suddenly clasped her arms about her neck. + +"I love you! I love you!" she murmured. "You are so beautiful and good! +Come soon, will you?" + +"Yes, dear, to-morrow, perhaps," and as Nellie left the room her eyes were +moist with the tears she found impossible to restrain. + +As she walked along the wet road by her father's side her mind was busy +thinking over what she had just heard. Who was that boy? He must be a +stranger to that place, and what was the letter about? Could it be Dan? +How often had she and her father talked about the boy. They believed that +he would come back some day. Suddenly there flashed into her mind the +persistent efforts Dan had made to write a letter, and how he had time and +time again asked her the way to spell certain words. She had thought +little about it then, but now she remembered that one of the words was +"Tony." Her father looked up in surprise as Nellie paused, and clutched +his arm more firmly. + +"What's the matter, dear?" he asked. "Are you tired? Perhaps we are +walking too fast." + +"No, father," and Nellie gave a little laugh. "I was Only thinking, and my +thoughts run away with me sometimes. But I am glad we are almost home, for +the walking is heavy and our shoes are covered with mud. See that +beautiful rainbow, father!" + +They both stood still for a few minutes, and looked upon the grand arch +spanning the heavens and resting upon earth. + +"The bow of promise, Nellie," said Mr. Westmore. "It appears to-day, the +same as of old, to remind us all that 'His mercies still endure, ever +faithful, ever sure.'" + +"Perhaps it's a sign to us, father, that our storm has past, and the sun +will break forth again." "It may be true, child. God grant it so," and +Mr. Westmore sighed as he turned in at the gate leading to his brother's +house. + + + + +Chapter XXIX + +Rifted Clouds + + +Again the next day they both visited the invalid girl. Nellie read to her, +while Parson John sat and listened. They were becoming firm friends now, +and Doris chatted unreservedly. + +"I shall tell papa all about you," she said. "I have a letter almost +finished, and shall mail it to-night. How I wish you could see him." + +All through the day Dan had been much in Nellie's mind. The idea which had +come to her the evening before was growing stronger. She believed it was +Dan and no other who had rescued Tony. It was just like him, and she +thought of the afternoon he had saved her and her cousin on the river. +Should she tell her father? That was the question which she debated with +herself hour after hour, and when they returned from their visit to Doris, +she had not yet decided. + +That evening she strolled out of the house, and down the road leading to a +little brook. The air was balmy and fresh, and this was her favourite +walk. Trees lined the way, stern old oaks, beeches and maples--the grove +on her uncle's farm, the place where people came for miles to hold +picnics. + +As Nellie walked along her thoughts turned often to Glendow. She wondered +what Stephen was doing, and if his logs were rafted. She missed him +greatly. They had been so much together, had grown up as children, but not +until this separation had she fully realized what he meant to her. She +thought of the night he had come to tell about Nora and to say good-bye. +Her face flushed, and a sweet peace came into her heart as she dwelt upon +Stephen's manner that night--his confusion--his stammering words--and the +burning kiss upon her hand. She stood on the little bridge now, in the +quiet dusk of even, leaning against the railing and looking pensively down +into the shallow water below. Suddenly she raised her hand and pressed it +again and again to her lips--the same hand which Stephen had kissed. + +A step upon the bridge startled her, and her heart beat fast. Had anyone +seen what she did? She thought she was alone, but somebody was coming. She +turned away her flushed face, and gazed down into the water, leaning her +arms upon the railing. The steps drew nearer. They were opposite her, and +soon they would pass. Some neighbour, no doubt, going home. If he had seen +her action he would tell others, and soon every person around would know. +Presently the steps paused. The silence frightened her. It was dusk; no +house in sight, and she was alone. Quickly she faced about, and there +standing before her was Stephen. A cry of surprise escaped her, and the +next instant she felt his strong arms about her and his lips fervently +pressing her own. + +"Stephen!" she cried, struggling to free Herself. "How dare you! When did +you come?" + +"Just from home, and was resting under that big tree," Stephen replied +still holding her tenderly. "I dared much after I saw what you did a few +minutes ago. Oh, Nellie, Nellie. I have been waiting long for this moment! +Surely, surely you are mine at last!" + +The flush had left Nellie's face now, leaving it very white, though in the +deepening twilight this was not noticeable. Her heart was beating +tumultuously, and a new feeling of peace and rest was stealing over her. +How powerful seemed the man standing there. So long had she been called +upon to be strong, always helping, ever taking such a responsible place in +life, caring for her father, strengthening him in his work--and upon her +he depended. But now to feel that she could give herself up to another, +one who had passed through a stern fight in the strength of his sturdy +young manhood, and had come forth as victor. Yet mingling with this +new-found joy came the thought of the dark shadow hanging over her +father's life. How could she be happy when he was in trouble? For his sake +she had kept the brave spirit and presented only the bright sunny face, +and cheery words of hope. The tension for weeks, nay months, had been a +severe strain--and now this sudden joy! It unnerved her. Words would not +come to Stephen's passionate pleading, but in their stead tears stole down +her cheeks, while her form trembled with convulsive sobs. + +Stephen started in surprise. + +"Nellie! Nellie!" he cried. "What have I done! Forgive me! I did not mean +to hurt you! I thought you would understand. If you only knew how I love +you--if you only----" + +"I know it, Stephen--I know it. I am very foolish. Please forgive me. I +cannot explain these tears--they come unbidden." + +"Then you're not unhappy, Nellie? You are not cross with me?" + +"Cross, dear Stephen, no. I am so happy, very happy. But why should I be +happy when my father is in trouble? How dare I! Is it right?" + +"Then you love me, Nellie! Oh, speak the word--let me hear it from your +own lips!" + +"Yes, Stephen, I do love you, don't you know it? I am yours, your very +own." + +"Thank God! thank God!" he cried, drawing her closer to him, and kissing +her again and again. She did not resist now, but allowed him to hold her +there while he breathed into her ear his sweet words of love. They were no +studied, well-rounded phrases, but such as leaped from a true, noble +heart, and the woman listening knew their worth. + +"Why didn't you write to me, Stephen?" Nellie whispered, "and tell me you +were coming? I have been worried lately, and it would have been something +to look forward to." + +"I didn't know I was coming until this morning," came the reply. + +"Didn't know?" + +"No--I left in the night." + +"This is more mysterious than ever." + +"Yes, I left very early this morning, and should have been here by the +middle of the afternoon, but Dexter threw a shoe about five miles back. I +had to leave him at a farm, and walk the remainder of the way. I was +resting by the bridge when you came along. I was quite put out to think I +had to tramp that distance and be so late. But now I know it was for the +best. Doesn't everything turn out right, Nellie?" + +"Y-y--es, some things do," was the reluctant reply. "This has, anyway, and +I try to believe that all things concerning my poor father will come out +right, too. I think we had better go to him now and tell him of our +happiness. It may brighten him up a bit." + +Side by side they walked slowly along the road, and Stephen told the whole +story of Tony's return, the hidden box, the political meeting, the +discovery of the gold in the safe, and Farrington's ignominious +punishment. + +They had reached the house by the time he had finished, and stood for a +moment on the doorstep before entering. In Nellie's heart was such a joy +that words would not come to her lips. She felt she must be asleep, and +would awake to find it only an unsubstantial dream. But Stephen's arm +around her, and his strong presence near, assured her that it was a +blessed reality. + +They found Mr. Westmore sitting alone in his little room, reading by the +shaded lamp. He glanced quickly up and was surprised to see Stephen +standing by Nellie's side. He saw the look of rapture upon their faces, +and read at once the meaning of it all, and into his own weary face came a +light which Nellie had not seen in many a day. She tried to speak, but +words failed, and moving quickly forward she threw her arms about her +father's neck, and kissed him fervently. + +"Oh, father, I am so happy!" she whispered. "Do you know? Can you +understand?" + +"Yes, darling," he replied. "I do understand. Come near, Stephen, my son," +and as the young man approached, he joined their hands, and bade them to +kneel before him. Then stretching out his hand over the bowed heads, and +in a voice trembling with emotion, he gave them his benediction. "May the +Lord bless you and keep you," he said. "May the Lord make His face to +shine upon you, and be gracious unto you, and keep you true to Him and to +each other unto your lives' end." + +Sitting by Mr. Westmore's side that evening, Stephen told the story he had +recently related to Nellie. Parson John sat straight upright in his chair, +and his eyes never once left Stephen's face. + +"And do you tell me!" he cried, when the latter ceased, "that Dan is +injured--lying unconscious?" + +"He was when Tony left." + +"Poor dear boy! and he did it all for me!" murmured the parson. "What a +sacrifice to make of his bright young life I I must go to him, Nellie, at +once! In the morning! Poor Dan! Poor Dan!" + +Thus the three sat for some time talking of the accident and planning for +the journey. Not once did Mr. Westmore speak about the recovery of the +gold, but that night in the quietness of his own room he poured out his +soul, in a great, fervent prayer of thankfulness to the Father above, and +also he sought His aid on behalf of a little wounded lad lying on a bed of +pain in a farm-house miles away. + + + + +Chapter XXX + +Beneath the Surface + + +Across the mouth of Big Creek stream a long double boom cradled the large +"R & P" drive. The last log had shot safely down the crooked brook and +rested calmly by the side of its companions. There were thousands of them +there, scarred and battered by rock and flood; worthy veterans were they, +this hardy army of the forest, reposing now after their fierce, mad +charge. + +The work of the drivers was done, and the last peevy had been tossed with +a resounding thud among its companions. A score of men were they who for +months had been confined to the lonely life of the woods, and who for days +had often been face to face with death. Naturally their eyes turned +towards the river some distance away. There on its bank nestled the little +town, and there, too, stood the Flood Gate Tavern, the most notorious +place in the whole countryside. How often during the winter evenings had +they talked of the many wild scenes which had been enacted there, and of +the wages of months squandered in a night. Though they talked about the +place and cursed it, yet, like moths singed by the candle's flame, they +had returned spring after spring to the Hood Gate Tavern to spend the +wages needed at home. Their money, too, was awaiting them there in the +Company's office. But now they hesitated. Never before had such a thing +been known. Formerly there was a rush to the town when the last log had +come in. + +It was evening as the men stood there, and the sun was hanging low far in +the west. The yearning for the tavern was strong--it called, it appealed +to them. But another power was holding these rugged drivers in check. +Their hearts had been much stirred these last few days, although not one +acknowledged it. A little helpless, suffering child was unconsciously +restraining the brute nature within them. He was holding them in leash, +binding them by strange, invisible cords. In silence they ate their supper +in the rafting house near by. + +"Boys," said Jake Purdy as the men sat outside smoking. "I'm goin' down +town to see if there's any mail. Any of ye comin'?" + +It was all that was needed, and at once every man responded. Down the road +they marched, their great boots making a heavy thud as they moved along. +Into the post office they tramped, and stood around while the few letters +were doled out. For Jake, there was one, written by a child's trembling +hand. Eagerly he opened it, and, as he read, his face underwent a +remarkable change. The rugged lines softened, and when he turned to the +men waiting for him, there was no gruffness in his voice. + +"'Spose we git our money, lads, an' hike back," he remarked. + +"Ay, ay," was the response, but in several hearts there was a keen longing +to remain. + +Right in front of the Company's office stood the Flood Gate Tavern. The +proprietor had been expecting the drivers and was well stocked up. He saw +them coming into town and watched them enter the office for their money. + +"They'll be here soon, Joe," he said to his assistant, "an' mind ye don't +let an opportunity slip. Them bottles must go tonight. I know there'll be +lively times about here. Them d--n temperance workers are dead set agin +us, an' it looks as if they'd make trouble. But we'll win out tonight, and +they can go to ----. Say, here they come. Now for the time--an' money. Oh, +they're jist achin' to give me their wages. They won't forgit old Ned, +that's sure. Ha, ha!" and the saloon-keeper rubbed his hands with glee. + +The drivers were outside the office now, and were casting furtive glances +across the way. Big Jake saw the looks and knew the longing which dwelt in +their hearts. He drew forth his pipe, stuck his little finger deliberately +into the bowl to see how much tobacco it contained. + +"Boys," he began, "have yez anything on fer the night?" + +"No," came the somewhat surly response, "unless we go over there." + +"Don't go," said Jake. "We've spent too much there in past years. Let's +save our money fer them wot needs it at home. Let me tell ye somethin'. +Comin' down the road from the boom to-night I felt like seven devils. I +was jist longin' to git into that saloon an' have a big drink. But as luck +'ud have it I went into the post office first, an' found this here letter. +An' who is it from, d'ye think? From me own little sick lassie at home. +Look at the writin', boys. Ain't it fine? An' what a letter it is. She +says she's waitin' fer me, an' counts the days until I come. Listen to +these words: 'Don't go near the saloon, papa. Come straight home, an' +bring the money to pay fer the farm. I pray fer you every day, papa, an' I +pray fer all the men on the drive, and fer that poor little boy who got +hurt.' Ain't them great words, boys?" + +"Ay, ay," came the reply, and into several hearts throbbed a desire to be +stronger men, and a few brushed their sleeves across their eyes. + +"But that ain't all," Jake continued. "She says that little boy wot got +hurt belongs to an old man--a parson--an' his beautiful daughter, who have +been good to her. They didn't know where the little boy was, but when they +found out they was all upsot, an' left in a hurry, but stopped in to say +good-bye to my little Doris. That was two days ago, and they must be up +there at Big Sam's now. Boys, let me tell ye this: Anyone who is good to +my little sick lass is good to me, an' Jake Purdy isn't a man to fergit; +yez know that. Now I have a suggestion to make. Instead of spendin' our +hard-earned money with that old wretch, Ned, let's go up in a body to the +house an' inquire fer the sick lad. We can't do nuthin', I know, but mebbe +it'll please the old man an' his daughter to know that we ain't fergotten +the brave little boy. An' come to think further it's no mor'n our duty. +That lad saved one of us from death, an' the one that was saved, saved me. +Boys, ye can do as yez like, but I'm goin' anyway." + +There was no hesitation now among these men. With one accord they turned +their backs upon the village, and struck along the road leading out into +the country. Old Ned, the saloon-keeper, watched them in amazement. Never +before had they done such a thing. What would become of all the whisky in +those bottles standing on the shelves? + +"The idiots!" he yelled. "What's the matter with 'em?" + +Bareheaded he rushed out into the street and lifted up his voice. + +"Hi! hi!" he shouted. + +The drivers paused and looked around. + +"Wait!" panted Ned running up to where they were standing. + +"What's wrong, old man?" questioned one. + +"Wrong! What's wrong with you? Why are ye leavin' without droppin' in to +see me? Surely ye ain't goin' to go away without a friendly call?" + +"Look here, Ned," replied Jake, acting as spokesman for the others, "we've +made too many friendly calls at your place fer our own good. This year +we're goin' to cut it out. So go home an' don't interfere." + +Had the saloon-keeper been less excited he would have noticed the warning +note in Jake's voice, and the sombre looks of the rest. They were in no +mood for interruption at the present time. But Ned was blind to all this. + +"Ye fools!" he roared, stamping on the ground in his rage. "Will ye let +all that good stuff spile down yonder? Surely ye ain't gone an' jined the +temperance gang, an' took the pledge?" + +Fiercely Jake turned upon him. + +"Ned," and his voice was laden with meaning, "will ye go home an' leave us +alone?" + +"No, h----if I will, unless ye all come back with me." + +Jake's eyes turned suddenly to the right. They rested upon a pond of dirty +water several feet deep lying there. Like a flash he reached out and +caught the saloon-keeper in both hands, lifted him clear of the ground, +carried him wriggling and cursing to the edge, and tossed him in like a +ball. With a splash and a yell Ned went under, came up puffing and +blowing, and dashing the water from his eyes and ears. A shout of derision +went up from the drivers. + +"Go home now, Ned," they cried. "You've soaked us fer years with yer +stuff, an' you've got soaked now. Good-bye." + +With that they continued on their way, leaving the victim to scramble out +of the pond and make his way home, beaten and crestfallen. + +Along the road the drivers marched, then up the hill leading to Big Sam's +abode. It was dim twilight as they stood before the house. The evening was +balmy, and the front door stood partly open. For a minute they hesitated, +and a whispered conversation ensued. + +"You go in, Jake. You've got a tongue fer sich things," suggested his +companions. + +But before a reply could be made there floated out upon the air a sweet +voice singing an old familiar hymn. Instinctively every driver pulled off +his rough hat, and bowed his shaggy head. It was a woman's voice they +heard, low and tender. There was a pleading note in the singer's +voice--the cry of a soul for help in trouble. + +Little did Nellie realize as she sat by Dan's side this evening, and sang, +that she had such attentive listeners. The past two days had been a time +of much anxiety. When first she and her father had arrived, Dan did not +know them. He was lying upon the bed, his little curly head resting upon +the pillow as white as his own white face. Would he ever come out of that +stupor? they asked each other time and time again as they sat and watched +him. Often he talked, calling aloud for help, and pleading for someone to +hurry. Now it was of Tony and again Nellie and Parson John. Occasionally +he mentioned his father, and asked why he was so long in coming. The +doctor stood by the bedside with an anxious face. + +"Do you think he will recover?" Nellie asked. + +"I can't say," was the reply. "He has been badly injured. But we should +know soon one way or the other. This condition can't go on much longer." + +It was hard for Nellie to persuade her father to take any rest. He would +insist upon sitting by the bed, and holding Dan's hand. + +"Poor, dear boy," he murmured. "Why did you do it? Why did you run such a +risk for my sake?" + +Once coming quietly into the room Nellie saw her father kneeling by the +bedside. His lips were moving in silent prayer. In his heart a deep love +had been formed for this little wounded lad. For months past the two had +been much together, and the bond of affection had been strongly formed. At +length Nellie had persuaded her father to take some rest. He had cast one +long, searching look upon the boy's face, and then silently left the room. +For some time Nellie sat by Dan's side watching his fitful breathing. One +little hand lay outside the quilt. Would it ever work for her again? she +wondered. It was a brown hand--the same hand which had reached over and +drawn Tony from death. As she sat there the door was quietly pushed open, +and Marion stood before her. Her eyes looked towards the bed with a +questioning appeal. In her right hand she clutched a little rose. It was +the first time she had been in the sick room, and on this evening while +her mother was busy she had softly stolen away. + +"Give dis to ittle sick boy," she said. "He like pitty woses." + +"Come here, dear," Nellie replied, and as the child approached she took +the flower, and placed the stem in Dan's doubled-up hand. She did it +merely to please Marion, but it thrilled her own heart to behold the +little maiden's sweet offering lying in that poor, nerveless fist. "God +bless you, darling," she said, drawing Marion to her. "You love the sick +boy, don't you?" + +"Me love him," came the response, "an' me lore oo. Will Dod make him +better?" + +"God will do what is best, dearie. You will pray for him, won't you?" + +"Me pray for him every night. Will oo sing to Dod to make him better?" + +"Why do you wish me to sing?" + +"When I'm sick my mamma sings to Dod. I fink He hears better dat way, an' +I det better. Will oo sing?" + +"If you wish me to, I will." + +"Let me det in oor lap den," and Marion, climbing up, made herself +perfectly at home. + +Nellie was not in a singing mood this evening, but the child's words had +touched her. She thought they were alone--just two, to hear. Verse after +verses she sang, and as she reached the chorus of the last verse she gave +a start of surprise, suddenly ceased, and looked towards the door. A +number of men's voices had taken up the chorus, and they were singing, not +loud, but as softly as possible: + + "Safe in the arms of Jesus, + Safe on His gentle breast, + There by His love o'ershadowed + Sweetly my soul shall rest." + +Nellie had put Marion down now, had risen to her feet, and crossed the +room to the door. Almost unconsciously the drivers had joined in that +chorus. They had forgotten how it would startle the sweet singer, and when +they saw Nellie standing in the doorway they were much abashed. They felt +like a group of schoolboys caught in some act of mischief, and they longed +to get away. + +As Nellie looked upon them, a bright smile illumined her face. She +surmised the purpose of their visit, and it pleased her. + +"Thank you for that chorus," she said, hardly knowing what else to say. "I +didn't know you were here." + +"Pardon us, miss," Jake replied, stepping forward. "It wasn't fair of us +to be standin' here listenin'. But we couldn't help it. An' when ye sang +that old hymn it jist melted us down. We come to inquire about the boy. +Mebbe ye'd tell us how he's gettin' along." + +"There's no change as yet, that we can see," Nellie replied. "But the +doctor says it must come soon one way or the other. Would you like to see +him? If you come in one at a time, I don't think it will do any harm." + +Without a word Jake followed her into the room, and stood with his hat in +his hand looking down upon the bed. + +"Poor little chap," he whispered. "Ain't it a pity?" + +Hardly had he ceased speaking when Dan suddenly opened his eyes and looked +about him in a dazed manner. + +"Where--where's my rose?" he cried. + +Nellie was by his side in an instant. + +"Here, Dan," and she lifted up the flower so he could see it. "Hush now, +don't speak." + +Dan gave a sigh of relief. He looked wearily around, then his eyes slowly +closed, and he passed into a gentle sleep. A step was heard in the room, +and the doctor stood by the bed. + +"When did the change take place?" he asked. + +"Just now," Nellie replied in a low voice. + +"It is well. The crisis is past. He must have perfect quietness. We'll +pull him through now, for sure." + +Jake waited to hear no more. He stole from the house, and motioned to his +companions. Silently they moved away and strode back to the camp. They +were rough men outwardly, this score of river drivers, but a glimpse had +been seen beneath the surface. Their hearts had been stirred as never +before, and they were not ashamed. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + +Light at Eventide + + +It was a bright buoyant day, with scarcely a cloud to be seen. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air, and every nimble leaf was still. The river +flowed on its way, its glassy surface mirroring the numerous trees along +its banks. Across the fields, fresh with the young green grass, came the +sweet incense wafted up from countless early flowers. + +Several people stood before the Rectory, beneath the shade of a large +horse-chestnut tree. Their eyes were turned up the road with an eager, +watchful expression. Across the gateway a rude arch had been formed, and +upon it the words "Welcome Home" in large white letters had been painted, +while evergreens and leaves lavishly decorated the whole. It was Glendow's +preparation for the return of their absent Rector and his daughter. + +Numerous changes had taken place since the night on which the gold had +been found in the safe. The store was now closed and the Farringtons had +departed. There had been many threats made by the defeated storekeeper, +but they amounted to nothing. Glendow had been aroused, and the one desire +which filled all hearts was to have their old Rector back again. They +realized as never before the sterling character of the man they had +suspected, and what a true friend they had lost. Dan's accident soon +reached their ears, and all breathed a prayer of thankfulness when news +arrived of his recovery. Nothing short of a reception must take place, and +so now more than threescore people, old and young, stood anxiously +awaiting the arrival. + +"There they come," shouted one, and far up the road a cloud of dust could +be seen, and soon a carriage was observed bowling along, containing Parson +John, Nellie and Dan. + +Their eyes opened wide with amazement as they drew near, saw the cheering +crowd, and drove beneath the overhanging arch. Silently they alighted and +grasped the numerous outstretched hands. The past was forgotten in the joy +of the present, and the shepherd and his flock were once again united. + +"It all seems like a wonderful dream," said Parson John to Nellie as they +sat that evening together after the others had departed. "We went out as +culprits, with only a few to bid us good-bye, and now we come home to the +love of our people. Surely the Lord has been good to us, and has led us by +ways that we knew not. Truly His ways are not our ways, and He does all +things well." + +Dan speedily recovered his former strength and his old-time spirit. He was +like a new lad. The weight which had pressed upon him so long had been +removed. He felt he was no longer a sponger, a useless being. His longing +to read and write increased, and as the days passed he made rapid +progress. Mr. Westmore loved to have the boy by his side and would often +read to him, and Dan would always listen with deep wonder. New fields of +knowledge were being gradually opened of which he knew nothing. + +"When I grow to be a big man will I know all about those things?" he one +day asked, when Mr. Westmore had been reading to him from an interesting +book of History. + +"That all rests with yourself, Dan," was the reply. "If you want to know, +you can. But it will mean hard work. There is no royal road to learning." + +"Then I'm going to learn," Dan emphatically responded, and from that day +Mr. Westmore began to plan for the boy's future as he had never done +before. + +One evening about sundown, several weeks later, Nellie and her father were +sitting on the veranda. It was a sultry night, and far in the distance +faint rumblings of thunder could be heard. + +"A storm is coming," Nellie remarked. "I hope Mr. Larkins will get back +from the office before it reaches us." + +Hardly had she spoken ere a step sounded upon the gravel walk and Mr. +Larkins appeared. + +"We were just speaking about you," Nellie exclaimed, "and now you are +here." + +"You know the old saying," he laughingly replied. + +"Have a seat, do," and Mr. Westmore pushed forward a rustic chair. + +"No, thank you, I have some chores to do before the storm breaks. Here is +your mail. Several papers and only one letter." + +"It's from my boy out west," Mr. Westmore remarked after Mr. Larkins had +gone. "We've had little news from him lately. I hope nothing's wrong." + +His hand trembled slightly as he opened the letter and unfolded several +sheets of paper within. Nellie picked up one of the papers, a daily from +the city, and was soon engrossed in its pages. An exclamation from her +father caused her to look quickly up. The expression on his face was one +of joy. It was that of a man from whom a heavy burden of care has been +unexpectedly lifted. + +"Nellie, Nellie!" he cried. "Good news from Philip! He's won his case! The +mine is ours beyond dispute, and it is far richer than was at first +believed. Read it for yourself," and he eagerly thrust the letter into her +hand. + +Trembling with excitement Nellie did as she was commanded. The first part +of the letter told about the long, stern fight which had been made, and of +the victory which had been won. + +"You little know, father dear," Philip wrote in conclusion, "what this +will mean to us all. Upon my suggestion you invested your all in this +mine, and at one time it looked as if we would lose everything. But now +all that is changed. I am a rich man to-day and you will no longer want +for anything. Your investment will be increased a hundredfold, and you +will make more in one year than you have made in your whole life. As soon +as I get matters in a settled condition I hope to come home for a short +visit, and then. I shall be able to tell you everything in detail." + +For some time Nellie held the letter silently in her hand. Her father was +sitting near with a far-away look in his eyes. Gone were time and place. +He was thinking of the day he had bidden Philip good-bye. He saw the +mother clasping her only son to her heart, and it was the last good-bye. +What hopes and fears had been theirs concerning their absent boy. What +struggles had been his out in the great busy world, and how often had his +home letters been weighted with despair. Many and many a night had they +knelt together and lifted up their voices in prayer on Philip's behalf. +Now she was gone. Oh, to have her there by his side to share his joy! A +mistiness rose before his eyes, and several tears stole down his furrowed +cheeks. Hastily he drew forth his handkerchief and brushed them away. +Nellie noticed his embarrassed manner, and surmised the cause. Going over +to where he was sitting she put her arms about his neck and gave him a +loving kiss. + +"You have me, father dear," she said, "and nothing but death can separate +us." + +"I know it, darling. I know it," was the reply. "I am somewhat unsettled +to-night. This news is so sudden. To think that Philip has conquered! Now +you shall have many comforts which have been denied you so long." + +"Don't say that, father dear. What comforts have been denied me? My whole +life has been surrounded by love. We have our little home here, with books +and music in the winter, and the sweet flowers and birds in the summer. +Does not happiness, father, consist in enjoying the good things around us? +Not for my sake am I glad that this good fortune has come, but for yours. +If Philip is correct, and we are to have more money than ever before, you +will be able to rest and enjoy life to the full." + +"Nellie, Nellie! What do you mean? Do I understand you aright? Do you wish +me to give up my work?" + +"But you need rest, father. You have laboured so long, surely you can +afford to let someone else do it now." + +"No, no. The Lord needs me yet. There is much work for me to do. Life to +me is in ministering to others. During those long days at Morristown, when +that cloud overshadowed us, how wretched was my life. Nothing to do--only +to sit with folded hands while others waited upon me. I shudder when I +think of that time. No, let me be up and doing, and God grant I may die in +harness, and not rust out in miserable disuse." + +"But you should have an assistant, father," Nellie suggested, "and he can +give you great help." + +"I have been thinking of that, dear. It seems now as if one great wish of +my life is to be granted. I have always longed to give several years to +God's service, without being chargeable to any one. Oh, to go among my +people, to comfort them, not as a servant, a hireling paid to do such +things, but as a shepherd who loves his flock, and whose reward is in +doing the Master's work, for the good of others. The people may pay the +assistant, but not me. I wish to be free, free for God's service." + +Footsteps were now heard approaching, and in a minute more Stephen stood +before them. The flush of joy that suffused Nellie's face told of the +happiness in her heart. + +"Welcome, Stephen, my son," said Parson John, reaching out his hand. "Your +visit is timely when our cup of joy is full to the brim and running over. +We have not seen you for two whole days. Where have you kept yourself?" + +"Why, Stephen has been to the city," was Nellie's laughing response. +"Didn't I tell you how he had gone with his logs?" + +"Dear me, so you did. How stupid of me to forget." + +"Yes," said Stephen, "my winter's work is all settled and I have come now +to make the first payment on the farm. There it is. Please count it," and +the young man placed a bulky envelope into his Rector's hand. "That is a +token of my new life, and with God's help it shall continue." + +For several minutes Mr. Westmore held the package in his hand without once +looking upon it. + +"Sit down, Stephen," he at length commanded. "I have something to say--to +you--and I feel I can say it now with a clear conscience. Since the day I +paid the four thousand dollars for your homestead, people have been +wondering where I obtained the money, and they certainly had good reason +to wonder. They knew I had invested all I could gather together in that +mine in British Columbia, and that I could pay down such an amount was +very puzzling. It is only right that you and Nellie should hear the truth +from my own lips. You well know," he continued after a pause, "that your +father was a very dear friend of mine. We had grown up as boys together. +We knew each other's affairs intimately, and we often discussed the +future. Your father made considerable money, and had a fairly large bank +account. One day he came to me--only several months before his death--and +we had a most serious talk together. He seemed to have some premonition +that he would not be much longer upon earth, and was most anxious that I +should consent to a plan which he had in his mind. He was fearful lest +after his death something should go wrong. He knew what a headstrong lad +you were, Stephen, and what a temptation it would be to spend recklessly +his hard-earned money. He therefore wished me to act as trustee, with +another firm friend who is living in the city, and to place in the bank in +our names the sum of six thousand dollars. This was to be left there, +unknown to others, until you proved yourself to be a man in every sense of +the word. In case of disaster or trouble we were to use the money at our +discretion for the welfare of the family and not to allow your mother or +sister to come to want. That, in brief, is the substance of the plan. At +first I did not feel like undertaking such a responsibility. But your +father was so insistent I at last consented. I need hardly tell you the +rest, for you know it already. I could not, in justice to your father's +express wish, divulge the secret until I was sure that you had taken a +firm grip of life. You needed to be tested, to pass through the fire. Now +I know you can be depended upon, and so I give you back this money, Keep +it; it is yours, and may God bless you. Part of the balance which remained +in the bank we used on Nora with such splendid results. The rest shall be +handed over to your mother, and I shall thus be relieved of all +responsibility. Will that be satisfactory to you?" + +Mr. Westmore ceased, and held forth the envelope. Stephen had risen now +and was standing erect. His hands remained clasped before him. + +"Take it," said the parson. + +"No," was the reply, "I cannot." + +"You cannot? It is yours!" + +"Yes, I know that. But remember, I have undertaken to pay back that four +thousand dollars. Through my recklessness I made it necessary to use my +dear father's hard-earned money. Not a cent will I touch until the full +amount is restored, and if I have my health it shall be done. Do not urge +me any more. Put that money where it belongs. It may take me some time to +pay all, but not until it is accomplished shall I feel satisfied." + +"Stephen, Stephen!" cried the parson, "give me your hand. Now I know that +you are in earnest. I shall do as you desire. My heart is full of joy +to-night. May God be glorified for all His blessings. I shall away to rest +now, for the many wonders of the day have tired me much." + +The storm which had been threatening rolled to westward. Far off the moon +rose slowly above the horizon. The night was still. Everything betokened +peace. On the little veranda sat the two young lovers hand in hand. Heart +responded to heart, and time was no more. The present and the future were +blended. The rapture of living was theirs, for where love reigns there is +life in all its fulness. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH WATCH *** + +***** This file should be named 8198.txt or 8198.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/9/8198/ + +Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/8198.zip b/8198.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d8a3af --- /dev/null +++ b/8198.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a781985 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #8198 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8198) diff --git a/old/4wtch10.txt b/old/4wtch10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb5600c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/4wtch10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8787 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Fourth Watch + +Author: H. A. Cody + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8198] +[This file was first posted on July 1, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FOURTH WATCH *** + + + + +E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +THE FOURTH WATCH + +BY + +H. A. CODY + +AUTHOR OF THE FRONTIERSMAN, UNDER SEALED ORDERS, THE LONG PATROL, ETC. + + + + + + +TO ALL + +"Messengers, Watchmen and Stewards of the Lord," who have faithfully +toiled through Life's long night, and now in their Fourth Watch and Last +Watch behold the dawn of a new Life breaking, this book is affectionately +dedicated by one but yet in the Second Watch. + + + + +Contents + + + + I.--The Awakening + II.--The Vision + III.--Glendow Rectory + IV.--The Warder of the Night + V.--The Breath of Slander + VI.--The Auction + VII.--The Farringtons + VIII.--The Golden Key + IX.--Beating the Devil + X.--In Camp + XI.--Guarding the Flock + XII.--Light and Shadow + XIII.--For the Sake of a Child + XIV.--The Long Night + XV.--Deepening Shadows + XVI.--For Sweet Love's Sake + XVII.--Hitting Back + XVIII.--Wash-Tub Philosophy + XIX.--The Sting + XX.--The Overseer + XXI.--Decision + XXII.--In the Deep of the Heart + XXIII.--Where Is Dan? + XXIV.--The Rush of Doom + XXV.--Beneath the Ashes + XXVI.--A Rope of Sand + XXVII.--In the Toils +XXVIII.--Waiting and Serving + XXIX.--Rifted Clouds + XXX.--Beneath the Surface + XXXI.--Light at Eventide + + + + +The Fourth Watch + + + + +Chapter I + +The Awakening + + +The boy plied his hoe in a listless manner, for his thoughts were +elsewhere. Several hundred yards to the right stood the forest, glorious +in its brilliant autumn hues. There among those trees the wary partridges +were feeding or perching temptingly upon bough, fallen log or ragged +stump. To the left the waters of the noble River St. John rippled and +sparkled beneath the glowing sun. Over there amidst that long stretch of +marshland, in many a cove and reedy creek, the wild ducks were securely +hidden. What connection had a rugged, stirring lad with a brown sombre +potato patch when the strong insistent voice of the wild was calling him +to fields afar? There was no inspiration here--among these straggling +rows. Nothing to thrill a boy's heart, or to send the blood surging and +tingling through his body. But there--! He sighed as he leaned upon his +hoe and looked yearningly around. Down on the shore; in a sheltered cove +among the trees, the _Scud_, a small boat, was idly flapping her +dirty patched sail. + +"Wonder what dad left it up for?" thought the boy. + +"Maybe he's going after more ducks. Wish to goodness he'd help with these +potatoes so I could get off, too." + +Then his eyes roamed out over the water until they rested upon a white +sail away in the distance, bearing steadily down-stream. He watched it +carelessly for some time, but noticing the manner in which it drooped +under an occasional squall his interest became aroused. + +"There's too much canvas, that's sure!" he ejaculated. "Some idiot, I +s'pose, who doesn't know 'bout these squalls. Guess he'll learn soon if he +isn't careful. Now the _Scud_, she's all right. I'd risk her any +time--My--!" and he almost held his breath as the white sail, much nearer +now, swooped to the water like the wing of a gigantic bird. The boat +righted herself, however, and sped gracefully forward. Again and again she +dipped and careened under each successive squall, winning the lad's +unstinted admiration. But even as he looked and wondered, a furious gust +caught the white sail as it listed heavily, and drove it with one sweep to +the water, overturning the boat as it did so. With a cry of fear the boy +dropped his hoe, stared for an instant at the overturned craft, and then +sped across the potato field sloping to the shore. He did not wait to go +by the path, which led straight up to a little cabin in the valley, but, +making a short cut to the left, leaped into a tangled thicket beyond. He +crashed his way through the branches and underbrush, not heeding the +numerous scratches upon face and hands. + +He reached the _Scud_, tore, rather than untied the painter from an +old oak root, and sent the boat reeling backwards from its moorings. The +sail flapped wildly in the breeze, which was now growing stronger, and the +craft began to drift. Catching up the centre-board, lying near, the boy +drove it down into its narrow groove with a resounding thud. Seizing the +sheet-line with one hand, and squatting well astern he grasped the tiller +with the other. Nobly the boat obeyed her little determined commander. The +sail filled, she listed to the left and darted forward, bearing bravely up +the wind. Straight ahead the boy could see the distressed boat sinking +lower and lower in the water, with a man and a woman clinging desperately +to the upturned side. The wind was now whistling around him, and at times +threatening to rip away the patched sail. The water was rough, and the +angry white-caps were dashing their cold spray over his clothes. But not +for an instant did he swerve from his course until quite near the wreck. +Then letting go the sheet-line he permitted the boat to fall away a little +to the left. In this manner he was able to swing gradually in a +half-circle, and by the time he was up again to the teeth of the wind the +_Scud_ was lying close to the overturned boat. + +So preoccupied had been the boy up to this moment that he had no time to +observe closely the shipwrecked pair. Now, however, he cast a curious +glance in their direction, as he let go the rudder and sheet-line, and +threw out the painter to the man. Eagerly the latter seized the rope, and +managed to hold the two boats together. + +"Give us yer hand," shouted the boy, "and let her come out first. Be +careful now," he continued as the crafts bumped against each other. +"There, that's good." + +With considerable difficulty the two strangers were rescued from their +perilous position, and then the _Scud_ dropped away from the wreck. + +"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy, as once again he brought the +boat to the wind. + +"Over there," responded the man, pointing to the opposite shore. "We can +land on that point and get driven home." + +Almost mechanically the boy swung the _Scud_ around, and headed her +for the place indicated. From the moment he had caught a glimpse of the +woman clinging to the boat he had found it hard to turn away his eyes. Her +hat was gone, and the wind was blowing her dark-brown hair about her face, +which was white as death. But when she turned her large blue eyes filled +with gratitude and fear upon her rescuer, a strange feeling of +embarrassment swept suddenly over him. Women he had seen before, but none +such as this. How quiet she was, too--not a cry or complaint did she make. +Her clothes were wet; the water cold, and the wind raw. But she sat there +in the boat watching him with those big eyes as he guided the _Scud_ +steadily forward. + +He looked at her dress, how neat and clean it was. Then he glanced at his +own rough togs. How coarse, worn and dirty were they, while his shoes were +heavy grey brogans. A flush mantled his sun-browned face. He shifted +uneasily, gripped the tiller more firmly, and drove the _Scud_ a +point nearer to the wind. What must she think of him? he wondered. Was she +comparing him with the well-dressed man at her side, who was looking +thoughtfully out over the blue water? A feeling of jealousy stole into his +heart. He had never known such a thing before. He knew what it was to be +angry--to stamp and shout in his rage. He had engaged in several pitched +battles with the boys in the neighbourhood who had made fun of him. But +his life--a life of freedom--had satisfied him. To hunt, to trap, to +wander over hill, valley and forest was all that he asked for. He had +never thought of anything higher, never dreamed of any life but the one +his father led, hunting, and trapping in season and making a slight +pretence of farming. Now, however, something was stirring within him. He +longed to show this woman that though his clothes and shoes were rough, he +was almost a man and could do great things. + +"What is your name, my boy?" + +The words startled him, and he glanced quickly up. The woman was looking +at him still, but now she was smiling. Was she laughing at him? + +"My name's Dan," was the reply. + +"Dan, Dan what?" + +"Oh, just old Jim's boy." + +"Old Jim, Old Jim!" repeated the woman. "Do you mean Jim Flitter, the +trapper?" + +"Yep, that's him." + +"And do you live over there?" + +"Yep. In that shanty up the valley, Dad and I live there alone." + +"Have you no mother, Dan?" and the woman's voice was soft and low. + +"None now." + +She was about to question further, but noticing the look upon the boy's +face she desisted. + +"Do you know you've saved our lives?" she remarked after a short silence. +"I can never thank you enough for what you have done for us to-day. I +don't think I could have clung to that boat much longer." + +"I ain't done nuthin'," Dan replied. "But next time you go out don't carry +so much sail, specially when it's squally. I mayn't always be handy like I +was to-day. But come, we're at the pint, so I'll land you here." Saying +which, Dan let the sail go free, and ran the boat gently up the pebbly +shore. + +"Now, my boy," asked the man, "how much do I owe you?" Dan had stooped and +was about to push the _Scud_ from the beach. He looked up quickly at +the question, but made no reply. + +"How much?" demanded the man, somewhat impatiently. + +"What do you mean?" asked the boy. + +"What do I mean? Simply this. You've done us a great service, saved us +from death, and how much money do you want? How much shall I pay you?" + +"Nuthin'." + +Dan was standing erect now. His dark eyes fixed full upon the man's face, +flashed with anger, while his heart thumped tumultuously beneath his +little checkered shirt. + +"What! won't take any pay!" + +"No!" + +"And why not?" + +"Cause I won't. You've no right to ask me. It ain't fair!" + +That was all Dan could utter. He could not express his feelings; +repugnance filled his heart at the thought of taking money for what he had +done. He felt the woman's eyes fixed upon him. What would she think, of +him, Dan Flitter, taking money for saving people's lives? He gave one +quick glance in her direction, turned, and pushing the boat from the +shore, sprang in, leaving the man and the woman upon the beach gazing +wonderingly after him. + + + + +Chapter II + +The Vision + + +"Danny, what's the meaning of this?" + +Mr. Flitter laid down his paper, took his pipe from his mouth, and looked +inquiringly at his son. + +Dan was seated at the farther end of the table, cleaning his beloved +shot-gun. It had done good work that day, and a fine string of partridges +hung in an outer room, ready to go to the store early the next morning. A +week had now passed since the rescue on the river, and during the whole of +that time he had said nothing about it to his father. There was a reason +for this. The latter had been much away from home during the day, only +coming in late at night when his son was in bed, so they had little chance +for conversation. It was a busy season, and they must make the most of it. +So while the one scoured the forest for partridges, the other searched the +river for ducks and geese. But Dan did not feel inclined to say anything +to his father about what he had done. To him it was not worth mentioning. +That he had picked up two shipwrecked people, and set them ashore, in his +eyes was a very simple thing. It was made less so by the thought of that +woman with the large eyes, beautiful face and sunny smile. How could he +describe to his father the new feeling which had come into his breast, the +longing for something more than the life he was leading, and the desire to +show that woman what he really could do? + +His father's sudden question startled him. The mail was carried but once a +week to this place, and by the time the paper arrived from the post office +it was several days old. Mr. Flitter had come home earlier than usual, +having had a fine day's shooting on the river, and was in excellent +spirits. Game was in great demand, and he looked hopefully for good sales +on the morrow. After their scanty meal he picked up the paper and began to +read. Silence reigned in the little dingy shanty for some time, broken +only by the short, sharp question. + +"Don't you know anything about it, Danny?" insisted Mr. Flitter, noticing +the startled and puzzled look upon his son's face. + +"What do you mean, dad?" + +"Why, about that wreck on the river. This paper says that you saved two +people from drowning right off here over a week ago." + +Dan's face flushed and his heart beat fast. What! was his name in the +paper? Would the people in the big city see it? What would the boys in the +neighbourhood think? Would they make fun of him any more? He could show +them now that he was somebody, for his name was in the paper! These +thoughts drove surgingly through his brain. He rose from his place and +stood by his father's side. + +"Show me, dad," he whispered; "let me see it." + +"There, Danny, look at the heading:-- + +"'A Boy's Brave Deed.'" + +"And is that long piece all about me, dad?" + +"Yes, and it states what you did. Why didn't you tell me about it, son?" + +"Where's my name, dad?" asked Dan, unheeding his father's question. + +"There," and Mr. Flitter, pointing with his finger, spelled out the words, +"Daniel Flitter." + +"Does it say, dad, who those people were that got swamped?" + +"No, their names are not given. It only says that the young man lives in +the city. But why didn't you tell me about it, Dan?" + +"Thought it wasn't worth while," replied the boy. "But I don't see how +they know about it down there to put it in the paper." + +"How did it happen, son. Let's have the whole story." Mr. Flitter pulled +off his boots, lighted his pipe afresh, and leaned back to listen. + +"I wonder who that woman is," he remarked, when Dan had finished his brief +account. "I know most people for miles around, and it's strange I don't +know her from your description. However, I shall make inquiries and find +out." + +During the days that followed, Dan lived in a new world. His feet trod the +earth, and he trudged for miles the woodland ways. But his mind was in +fairyland. + +It was an enchanted world through which he moved, and he was master of +all. The trees on every side were crowds of admiring people, and the +branches were so many outstretched hands pointing to him. His breast +swelled with pride. He walked erect, his head held high, while his eyes +flashed with a triumphant light. The birds sang his praises; the squirrels +chattered one to another, and every brook babbled "Daniel Flitter, Daniel +Flitter." His name had appeared in the paper! He was no longer an obscure +person, but a hero--a wonder! He kept the clipping carefully wrapped up in +his pocket. Often he would sit down in some quiet forest spot, unfold his +treasure and look long and proudly upon those two magic words. One day as +he sat studying the paper a desire came into his heart to know all of +those wonderful words before and after his name. He could not read, never +having gone to school. In fact he never wanted to do so. His one aim was +to be a mighty hunter and trapper like his father. But now, a longing had +entered his soul; a spark from the mysterious fire of life had found a +lodging which needed only a little fanning to produce a bright and fervent +flame. + +"Dad," said he, that night, while eating his supper, "I wish I knew how to +read. All the boys in this settlement can read and write. Ain't I old +enough to begin?" + +"You're old enough, lad, but we live a long way from the schoolhouse, and +when you were little it was too far for you to walk. You might go this +winter, when there's spare time, if you don't mind the distance." + +"I don't mind that, dad, but all the rest will know so much that they'll +make fun of me. I only know a few of my letters, and mother taught me them +before she died." + +"She did, lad, she did, God bless her," and a huskiness came into Mr. +Flitter's voice as he spoke. "If she were alive now you would know as much +as any boy of your age, for your mother was a smart one, and I guess you +take after her, Dan. + +"I wish I had her now," and the boy gave a deep eigh. "She'd help me every +night, and I wouldn't be stupid any more." + +Mr. Flitter made no reply to these words. He finished his supper in +silence, and while Dan washed the few dishes he sat thoughtfully smoking +his old clay pipe. + +"Laddie," he remarked as they were preparing for bed, "I've been having +deep thoughts to-night, and I've come to the conclusion that I haven't +done right by you. I've neglected you too much." + +"In what way, dad?" questioned the boy. + +"Oh, in many ways. I've fed and clothed you, though I guess you've earned +it all. But I've not thought enough about your mind--your education, I +mean. Besides, there are deeper and more serious things in life of which +I've told you nothing. I do feel mighty guilty when I think about it all." + +"You've been good to me, though," and Dan looked inquiringly into his +father's face. + +"Yes, in a way. But, then, haven't I been good to our old mare, Queen? I +feed and blanket her. But what more have I done for you--and you are my +own son? Now look here," he added, after a pause, "I'm willing to teach +you at nights how to read, and see if we can't make up for my past +neglect." + +"Dad! D'you mean it?" + +"There now, that'll do. No more talking. Let's off to bed, and we'll have +the first lesson to-morrow night." + +The days that followed were busy ones for Dan. The shooting season closed, +but there was other work to do. The rabbits had to be snared and his +regular rounds made to the traps set for the wiry mink, lumbering raccoon, +and the wily fox. Each night, the animals brought in during the day had to +be skinned, and the pelts carefully stretched. Then when this had been +accomplished to his satisfaction he would turn his attention to his +studies. + +His father was cutting cord-wood for a neighbour, and was able to get home +at night. Then the two pored over the mysterious letters and words in the +little cabin, the elder doing his best to impart his scanty knowledge to +the younger. They were happy times for Dan. He had something to live for +now, and throughout the day, as he wandered from trap to trap, the words +he had studied the night before kept ringing in his ears. + +But, alas! such scenes were to be dispelled all too soon. They were too +good to last long. One evening Dan returned home to find an unusual +commotion about the place. Men and women were there who had never before +entered the building. And the doctor, whom he had often met on the road, +what was he doing there? What were they whispering about? and why did they +look at him in that way, when he entered the house? Where was his father? +Who was that lying on the bed so very still? Could it be dad? He had never +seen him like that before. Then the thought flashed upon him: something +was wrong! His father was hurt! and with a cry he rushed forward, and bent +over the prostrate form. But no word of welcome, no sign of recognition +did he receive. Nothing but that vacant stare met his ardent gaze. + +Slowly, very slowly, he grasped the meaning of it all, as the sympathetic +watchers told the brief story. His father had met with a serious accident. +A large birch tree in falling had lodged against another, a sturdy maple. +While cutting at the latter the birch had suddenly turned over and +swooping to the ground with a resounding crash had buried Mr. Flitter +beneath the branches ere he had had time to escape. He had been carried +home bruised, broken, and unconscious. The doctor had been hurriedly +summoned, and had done all in his power for the injured man. But in vain, +for in a short time he had breathed his last. + +Dan uttered not a word when the tale had been told. He asked no questions, +neither did he make any outcry. He stood like one stricken dumb, dry-eyed +and motionless, gazing upon that quiet form lying upon the bed. Gently +they led him away, and tried to speak to him. He did not heed them. A +weight such as he had never known before pressed upon his heart. He wished +to be alone, somewhere in the woods, out there where no one could gaze +upon him. His father was dead! For him there was no consolation from the +words of the Man of Sorrows. The life beyond had no meaning for him. His +mother had taught him to say the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to +sleep," but that seemed so long ago, and he had not repeated it after her +death. He had seen the birds and animals lying dead, but had thought +nothing about it then. Now his father was just like them, would never look +at him again, would never speak to him any more. + +He watched in a dazed manner what took place on the two following days. +Neighbours came, spoke to him, stayed awhile and then departed. The day of +the funeral arrived. He stood with the rest at the graveside. It was cold, +and the wind laden with snow whistled about him. He heard the grey-headed, +white-bearded clergyman read the Burial Service. The words of hope had no +meaning for him. An awful feeling of desolation filled his heart as he +watched the earth thrown into the grave. A shiver passed through his body, +caused not by the coldness alone. Several came to speak to him. He did not +want to see them. He turned and fled down across the field over the fence +to the humble cabin in the valley. This he entered, now so quiet and +desolate. He reached the bed--his father's bed--and throwing himself upon +it gave vent to his grief. His pent-up feelings at last found an outlet +and tears coursed down his tanned cheeks, moistening the pillow beneath +his little curly head. + + + + +Chapter III + +Glendow Rectory + + +"Are you cold, lad?" + +"No," was the brief reply. + +Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure +at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their +feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she +was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead. +It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east +presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did +not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes +sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides. + +The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and +gripped the reins more firmly. + +"What will Nellie say," he thought, "when she sees the lad? Won't she be +surprised! She's never tired of talking about that rescue on the river." + +Dan thoroughly enjoyed the drive as he nestled by the parson's side. It +was very strange to be speeding along in such a luxurious manner, with a +horse travelling like the wind, and a big jolly man holding the reins. He +said nothing, but kept his eye fixed upon Midnight, his admiration +steadily increasing. He would like to own a horse like that, and down in +his heart he determined to have one some day--his very own. + +"What do you think of Midnight, lad?" asked the parson, noticing Dan's +admiring gaze. + +"Great!" was the reply. + +"Wish to have one like her, eh?" + +"Y'bet." + +"You will some day, boy; you will. But get a good one or none at all, and +here's a safe rule: + + "Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, + Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostrils wide, + High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong. + Thin, mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide. + +"Now the man who said that, knew what he was talking about." + +"What's his name?" asked Dan. "Does he live here?" + +"Ho, ho!" and the parson's hearty laugh rang out over the snow. "'Does he +live here?' I'm afraid not. Very few in Glendow know old Will Shakespeare, +more's the pity." + +"I should like to meet him, though," remarked Dan. "He must know a lot +about horses." + +"Ay, ay, lad, he knows a lot about most things, and you shall know him +some day, Dan, when you get older. But here we are right at home. We've +made great time." + +After Midnight had been carefully stabled and fed, Parson John led his +little charge into the Rectory. Scarcely had they crossed the threshold +into a brightly-lighted room ere the sound of a sweet voice humming an old +familiar tune fell gently upon their ears. Then a heavy tapestry curtain +was drawn aside, and a slender girlish form stood before them. Beholding +the lad, she gave a start of surprise, while her face, of more than +ordinary beauty, flushed with pleasure. + +"Ha, ha, Nellie," laughed her father, giving her an affectionate kiss, "I +have captured your young hero at last, and I'm glad you recognize him. +He's to live with us, to be your honourable bodyguard, your Fidus Achates, +in fact." + +What a picture this venerable man presented as he stood there. Wrapped in +a great-coat, with fur mittens in his hands; a long grey beard sweeping +his breast; hair abundant and white, crowning a face of singular strength +and refinement, he seemed the very embodiment of health and hearty cheer. +No ascetic this, but a man in whose veins flowed the fire of youth, and +whose eyes twinkled with quiet, honest laughter as they looked into his +daughter's puzzled face. + +"I don't exactly understand," Nellie remarked, glancing first at her +father and then at Dan. + +"No, I know you don't, dear, but I'll tell you all about it later. It's +enough now to know that I found him, and we are to give him a home here. +So if you'll let us have something to eat, we'll be very glad, won't we, +laddie?" + +Dan stood as if in a dream during this conversation. His eyes remained +fixed upon Nellie's face. Could it be possible that this was the woman he +had rescued, and who had spoken so kindly to him? It was the same, there +could be no mistake, only now she seemed more beautiful than ever. He felt +her soft hand pressing his rough, brown one, and heard her hearty welcome. +Words would not come to his lips. He was like a dumb person. But his eyes +noted much, especially the dining-room, with the table spread, the white +cloth and wonderful dishes. He had never seen anything like them before. + +And good reason was there for Dan's wonder. Others too would have looked +with admiration upon that scene had they been present. Everything in the +room bespoke Nellie's gentle care, from the spotless table-linen to the +well-polished, old-fashioned sideboard, a relic of the stirring Loyalist +days. Several portraits of distinguished divines adorned the walls, while +here and there nature scenes, done in water-colours, by whose hand it was +easy to guess, were artistically arranged. + +Nellie's devotion to her father was beautiful to behold. Her eyes sparkled +with delight as he related several amusing incidents of his visit to a +sick parishioner in an outlying district. + +"And how did you find Mr. Stickles?" she inquired. + +"'Simply joggin', parson, simply joggin,'" came the reply, at which the +fair hostess laughed heartily. + +"And I suppose Mrs. Stickles is as jolly as ever?" + +"Oh, yes. She is just the same. Poor soul! she has her hands full with her +sick husband, and a houseful of little ones. Yet she keeps remarkably +bright and cheerful. She was much concerned about my welfare, and while +she sent Sammy to look after Midnight she bustled around to make me as +comfortable as possible." + +"'Poor dear man,' she said, 'ye ain't as young as ye used to be, an' I +often say to John that the work's tellin' on ye. Ye've got too large a +circus, parson, too large a circus.'" + +"Dear soul," laughed Nellie. "There isn't a more real person in Glendow +than Mrs. Stickles. She's a friend to everyone, and knows everybody's +business for miles around." + +"Indeed, she does," replied her father. "It was she who told me about our +young friend here, and I started off post-haste to capture him. So we have +to thank Mrs. Stickles for it all." + +Supper ended, Parson John and Dan went into the study, while Nellie +cleared away the dishes. A bright fire burned in the large fire-place, +giving the room a most genial appearance. The parson brought down a long +church-warden pipe, filled and lighted it. Next he drew up a comfortable +chair and proceeded to read his mail which had arrived during his absence. +Dan, in the meantime, had taken up his position in a cosy-corner nearby. A +large picture-book had been given to him, and eagerly his eyes wandered +over the wonderful things he found therein. After a while he closed the +book and leaned back against the cushions. How comfortable it was. What +luxury! He had never experienced anything like it in his life. It seemed +like a dream. He watched Parson John for a time as he read his letters and +papers. Then he looked about the room, admiring the many things he there +beheld. Gradually his eyes closed. He forgot his surroundings, and was +soon fast asleep, far away in dreamland. + +When Nellie had finished with the dishes, she came into the study, and, +seeing Dan, she paused to look upon him. Then she crossed to where her +father was sitting, and touched him gently on the shoulder and pointed to +the sleeping lad. Together they watched him and in their hearts there +welled up a deep love for the orphan boy. + +"Poor little fellow," remarked Nellie, in a low voice, taking a seat by +her father's side. "I am so glad he is with us to-night. He seemed to be +tired out." + +"Yes, dear," her father replied, laying down the paper. "We are fortunate +in getting him. I wanted a boy for some time. I understand he has a fine +character." + +"And you said that Mrs. Stickles told you about him?" + +"Yes. And what she said was quite true. I found Dan living with the Tragen +family. Mr. Tragen has seven children of his own, and could not very well +keep another for any length of time. He told me that the day of the +funeral he went to the Flitter house, and found Dan all alone, lying on +his father's bed, weeping as if his heart would break. With difficulty he +had persuaded him to leave and go with him. That was over a week ago and +Dan has been with him ever since. Mrs. Tragen, worthy woman that she is, +took good care of him and treated him like one of her own. Truly the Lord +will reward her. By the way, she told me an interesting thing about the +boy." + +"What is it?" questioned Nellie. + +"It seems he has never been at school, and cannot read or write. He is +very anxious to learn, and his father, before his death, was giving him +some lessons. We must see that he has every chance to learn while with +us." + +"But, father, there's no school in the district this winter, a most +unusual thing." + +"Why not teach him at home, dearie?" and the parson looked into his +daughter's face. "Why not have a school here? We can give him a start +anyway, and he will not be too far behind the rest when next the public +school opens." + +"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed Nellie, "and may I be the teacher? +I always wanted to do something in that line, and may we begin to-morrow?" + +"Any time you like, dearie, and may God bless you, child, for your +interest in the boy. You remind me more and more of your dear mother." + +"And why should I not take an interest in him, father? He saved my life, +and, though I can never repay him, I should like to feel that I am doing +something. You know I read to Nora whenever I can, but this need not +interfere with that. And, oh, father, Stephen was here this afternoon, and +he's in great trouble." + +"What's wrong, dearie?" questioned the parson, as Nellie paused and a deep +flush suffused her face. + +"The Frenelle homestead is to be sold." + +"What! do I understand you aright? Peter Frenelle's farm, that fine +property which he left free of debt when he died?" + +"Yes, it's only too true. You know there has been a heavy mortgage on it +for several years, and as the interest has not been paid for some time the +mortgage has been foreclosed, and the place is to be sold." + +"Dear me, dear me," and the parson leaned back in his chair and closed his +eyes, as he always did when in deep thought. "It's bad management, that's +what it is. Stephen has had a splendid start, and through carelessness he +has let everything go to ruin." + +"Father, don't blame Stephen too much. He's only young, and had a great +responsibility placed upon his shoulders after his father's death." + +"Blame him! Blame him! Why should I blame anyone?" and the parson placed +his hand to his forehead. "Stephen is as dear to me as my own son--and I +love him. But, oh, it is hard to see my old friend's farm go to others. I +have talked with Stephen time and time again. But he has not taken the +right grip of life. Poor Mrs. Frenelle, her heart must be broken. And +Nora, that dear invalid girl, how hard for her." + +Nellie made no reply to her father's words. She sat looking into the fire. +Tears were in her eyes and her heart was heavy. Everything had seemed so +bright but a short time before, and now this dark cloud had arisen. Oh, if +Stephen would only bestir himself. They had known each other from +childhood. He had always been her hero. As a child her day-dreams and +fancies were woven about him. And as years advanced their love for each +other had increased. It was the natural blending of two souls which had +gradually and silently grown together in the bright sunshine of happy +youth. + +A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. At once she +arose to ascertain its meaning, and shortly returned. + +"Father," she said, "Billy Fletcher is very sick, and wishes to see you." + +"Who brought word, my dear?" + +"Hugh Peters. He called to see the old man as he was coming down the road, +and found him quite ill." + +The effect of this message was quite magical. No longer was Parson John +the quiet fireside reader, but the true sympathetic pastor. He laid aside +his pipe, and at once arose from his comfortable chair. An expression of +loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his +storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of +remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until +the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to +the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times +to administer the Holy Communion. + +Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was +cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small +lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on +his mission of love. + + + + +Chapter IV + +The Warder of the Night + + +After her father's departure, Nellie sat before the fire engaged upon some +needlework. Occasionally her hands rested in her lap, while she gazed +thoughtfully into the bright blaze. The soft light from the shaded lamp +fell athwart her wealth of dark-brown hair and fair face. Her long lashes +drooped as she leaned back in an easy-chair, and let her mind wander to +the days when she and Stephen played together as happy children. What +bright dreams were theirs, and how many fairy palaces they erected in the +far unknown future. + +A movement in the cosy-corner roused her from her reverie. She glanced +quickly in that direction and saw Dan sitting bolt upright, gazing +intently upon her. Nellie smiled as she saw his look of wonder mingled +with embarrassment. + +"Have you had a nice sleep?" she asked. + +"Guess so," came the slow reply. "I dreamed that you and my father were +right by my side, but when I woke he was gone and only you are with me." + +"I hope you will like it here," Nellie remarked, hardly knowing what to +say. "We want to make you happy, and love you just like our own little +boy." + +"I'm almost a man now," and Dan straightened up his shoulders and proudly +threw back his head. "I can hunt and work. See how strong I am," and he +placed his right hand upon the muscle of his doubled-up left arm. + +"Some day you will be as big as my father, won't you?" replied Nellie, +much amused at the sturdy lad. + +"Was that your father who brought me here?" + +"Yes." + +"And what's his name?" + +"Mr. Westmore. But most people call him 'Parson John.' You'll call him +that, too, won't you? He likes it better." + +"Yes; if you want me to, I will. But, say, what's your name?" + +"Oh, mine's just Nellie, Nellie Westmore. Not very pretty, is it?" + +"I think it is. Do you know that was my mother's name--Nellie, I mean, not +the other one." + +"And do you remember your mother, Dan?" + +"Only a little. She was good and pretty, just like you." + +"Tell me about her, will you? I should like to hear." + +And there in the quietness of that room Dan's tongue was unloosed, and in +his own simple way he told about his mother, her death, and how he and his +father had lived together in the little log shanty. Half an hour passed in +this quiet talk, and when at length Dan ceased Nellie glanced at the +clock. + +"Why, I didn't think it was so late! It is time you were in bed. You must +be tired. Come, I will show you where you are to sleep to-night, and +to-morrow we will fix up a room for your very own." + +Going to the kitchen Nellie lighted a small lamp, and with this in her +hand she and Dan went up the small winding stairway. + +"This is the place," and she opened a door leading to a room at the north +of the house. "The pipe from the hall stove comes up there, so it's always +quite warm. I do hope you will sleep well." + +She went to the window to draw down the blind and as she did so a light +fell upon her eyes which gave her a distinct start. It was not from the +moon, for the night was dark, but from a burning building, a short +distance up the road. The flames were leaping and curling through the +roof, sending up blazing cinders in every direction. + +Nellie's heart almost stopped beating as she gazed upon the scene. It was +Billy Fletcher's house! and what of her father? Was he amidst those +flames, or had he escaped? + +"Dan, Dan!" she cried, turning to the lad, "Come, quick! I'm afraid that +something terrible has happened! Get on your coat and cap as quickly as +possible and let's make haste!" + +It did not take them long to throw on their wraps, and to hurry forth into +the night. + +To Nellie the distance seemed never-ending. Would they ever reach the +house? How the road had lengthened! and her breath came hard and fast as +she staggered forward, trying to keep pace with the more hardy lad. The +light of the fire illumined the road for some distance around, and guided +their steps. Drawing near they could discover no one about the place. What +did it all mean? Here Nellie paused and with wildly beating heart looked +at the seething mass before her, and listened to the roar of the flames as +they sent up their wild flamboyant tongues into the air. Had her father +been entrapped in that terrible furnace? She glanced towards a barn on her +right and as she did so her eyes fell upon a sight never to be forgotten. +Someone was there, kneeling in the snow with bent head gazing intently +upon some object before him. It was her father! and with a cry of joy +Nellie rushed forward. She found he was kneeling by Billy Fletcher's side, +supporting his head, and carefully wrapping around him his own great-coat. +He looked up and an expression of relief came into his face as he saw his +daughter standing there. + +"I am so glad you have come," he exclaimed. "Poor Billy's in a bad way. We +need help. He must be taken to some house. I wish you would hurry up the +road for assistance. Dan will go with you. Get his nephew Tom as quickly +as possible." + +Waiting to hear no more, Nellie, fatigued though she was, started at once +for assistance, Dan following close behind. They had gone only a short +distance, however, when they met Tom himself running along the road. + +"What's wrong?" he gasped. + +"Don't you see?" Nellie replied. "The house is burning down." + +"And Uncle Billy; is he safe?" + +"Yes, he's safe, but almost dead." + +"And the box, what about it?" + +"What box?" + +"The money box; the iron one, where he keeps his papers and gold." + +"I know nothing about the box," replied Nellie, while a feeling of great +repugnance welled up within her at the heartlessness of the man. He cared +little for his uncle, the feeble old body, but only for what he possessed. + +By this time they had reached the place where the sick man was lying. + +"Is he living?" shouted his nephew. + +"Yes," replied the parson, "though I doubt if he can last long. We must +get him away to your house as soon as possible." + +"But the box, Parson; did you save it?" questioned Tom. + +"No, I never thought about it, and, besides, I did not know where it was." + +At this Billy opened his faded eyes, and fixed them upon his nephew's +face. He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and his words were +unintelligible. + +"Where's the box?" shouted Tom. + +Again the old man endeavoured to say something. Failing in this he made an +effort to rise. The struggle was too much for him, and with a cry he sank +back upon the snow, dead. + +By this time several neighbours had arrived, and stood near with a look of +awe upon their rugged faces. Nellie drew her father aside, knowing full +well that his care was needed no longer. + +"Come," she said, "we had better go home, These men will do the rest. You +have done your part." + +He followed her along the little path leading to the main road. Reaching +this she took him by the arm and supported his steps, which were now +over-feeble. Slowly and feelingly, he told the story of the night. He had +found the old man in a bad condition, and cold from the lack of a good +fire. Filling the stove with a liberal supply of wood, and making Billy as +comfortable as the circumstances would permit, he had sat down to watch +his charge. Ere long the sick man grew much worse. Then the chimney had +caught fire. The bricks must have been loose somewhere, which allowed the +flames to pour through into the dry woodwork overhead, which was soon +converted into a blazing mass. Seeing that nothing could be done to save +the building Mr. Westmore was forced to carry Billy, sick though he was, +out of the house. He tried to reach the barn, but his strength failed, so +he was forced to lay his burden upon the snow, and wrap his great-coat +around the helpless man. + +"Poor Billy! poor Billy!" said the parson in conclusion. "He was careless +about higher things. I hope the good Lord will not judge him too harshly." + +"But he was not always like that, father," Nellie remarked. + +"No, no, thank God. He had a happy home when I first came to this parish, +long before you were born. I have often told you about the sweet, +God-fearing wife he had then. But after she was laid to rest a great +change took place in Billy's life. He became very rebellious and never +darkened the church door. He acquired a great passion for money, and grew +to be most miserly. As the years passed his harshness increased. He waxed +sullen and disagreeable. His neighbours shunned him and he looked upon +them all with a suspicious eye. His money he never placed in a bank, but +kept it in his house in gold coin, in a strong, iron box, so I have been +told, and would count it over and over again with feverish delight." + +"But, father," remonstrated Nellie, "there must have been something good +in poor old Billy. You know how fond he was of Tony Stickles." + +"True, very true, dear. I have often wondered about the affection between +the two. No one else could live with the old man, except Tony, and he +served him like a faithful dog. It is generally believed that Billy +confided many things to Tony. He is a peculiar lad, and people have tried +in vain to find out what he knew. He will certainly feel badly when he +comes out of the woods, where he is now working, and hears about Billy's +death. But here we are at home. Oh dear, the journey has greatly tired +me," and the parson panted heavily as he entered the house. + +During the homeward walk Dan trudged along close by Nellie's side, busy +with his own thoughts. He longed for something to happen that he might +show her what a man he was. If a robber or a wolf, or some frightful +monster, would spring out from the roadside, he would meet it +single-handed, kill or drive it away. Then to behold the look of +gratitude and admiration upon the woman's face as she looked at him, what +bliss that would be! Little did the father and daughter realize, as they +slowly walked and conversed, what thoughts and feelings were thrilling +the little lad by their side, feelings which in all ages have electrified +clods of humanity into heroes, and illuminated life's dull commonplaces +with the golden romance of chivalry. + + + + +Chapter V + +The Breath of Slander + + +"When a man dies he kicks the dust." Thus pithily wrote Henry Thoreau, the +quaint philosopher, in his little shack by the beautiful Walden pool. The +truth of this saying was certainly verified in old Billy Fletcher's death, +and the people of Glendow were destined to see the dust stirred by his +departure, rise in a dense cloud and centre around the venerable parson of +Glendow. + +The day after the fire was clear and fine. Not a breath of wind stirred +the crisp air, and the sun-kissed snow lying smooth and white over all the +land sparkled like millions of diamonds. + +Near the window in her little cottage, not far from the Rectory, sat Mrs. +Larkins, busily knitting. She was a woman of superior qualities and had +seen better days. Her toil-worn hands and care-marked face could not +disguise the gentle, refined spirit within, which expressed itself in her +every word and action. Two little graves in the Churchyard, lying side by +side, and marked by a small cross of white marble, told how the silent +messenger had entered that home. Often the husband and wife were seen +standing by those little mounds, while tears coursed down their rugged, +honest cheeks. + +"No father could have been kinder than Parson John," she had frequently +remarked when speaking about their loss, "and no sister more sympathetic +than dear Nellie. They loved our little ones as if they were their very +own. On that bright summer day when we laid our lambs to rest the parson's +voice faltered as he read the Burial Service, and tears glistened in his +eyes." + +Since then whatever happened of joy or sorrow at the Rectory was of the +deepest interest to the lonely two over the way. So on this bright +afternoon as Mrs. Larkins sat by the window her thoughts were busy with +the events of the past night. + +A knock upon the door broke her reverie. Opening it, what was her surprise +to find there a woman, with an old-fashioned shawl about her shoulders, +and a bright, jolly face peering forth from a capacious grey hood. + +"Mrs. Stickles!" she exclaimed. "Is it really you? Why, I haven't seen you +for such a long time! Come in at once, and lay off your wraps, while I +make you a cup of tea, for you must be chilled through and through." + +"Indeed, I am," Mrs. Stickles replied, bustling into the room, and untying +her hood. "Sammy hed to bring the old mare to the blacksmith shop to git +shod, an' John, my man, sez to me, 'Mother,' sez he, 'ye jist put on yer +duds, an' go along, too. It'll do ye a world o' good.' I hated to leave +John, poor soul, he's so poorly. But I couldn't resist the temptation, an' +so I come. My, that's good tea!" she ejaculated, leaning back in a big, +cosy chair. "Ain't that tumble about old Billy Fletcher, an' him sich a +man!" + +"You've heard about his death, then?" Mrs. Larkins replied. + +"Should think I hed. We stopped fer a minute at the store. I wanted to git +some calicer fer the girls, an' while I was thar I heerd Tom Flinders an' +Pete Robie talkin' about it. Why, it was awful! An' to think the dear old +parson was thar all alone! When Pete told me that I jist held up me hands +in horror. 'Him thar with that dyin' man!' sez I. 'Jist think of it!' + +"'I guess he didn't mind it,' sez Si Farrington, who was awaitin' upon me. +'He likes jobs of that nater.' I don't know what in the world he meant. I +s'pose ye've heerd all about it, Mrs. Larkins?" + +"Yes," came the somewhat slow reply. "I've heard too much." + +"Ye don't say so now!" and Mrs. Stickles laid down her cup, and brought +forth the knitting which she had with her. "Anything serious?" + +"Well, you can judge for yourself. John helped to carry Billy to his +nephew's house, and then assisted the others in putting out the fire. But +search as they might they could not find the box." + +"Ye don't say so! Well, I declare." + +"No, they searched every portion of the rubbish, ashes and all, but could +find no trace of it. That's what's troubling me. I do hope they will find +it for the parson's sake." + +"Indeed! Ye surprise me," and Mrs. Stickles laid down her knitting. "Wot +the parson has to do with that box is more'n I kin understand." + +"No, perhaps you don't. But you see after the men had made a thorough +search and could not find the box, Tom Fletcher became much excited. He +swore like a trooper, declared that there had been foul play, and hinted +that the parson had something to do with it. You know that the Fletchers +have been waiting a long time for Billy to die in order to get his gold, +property and--" + +"Yes, yes, I know Tom Fletcher," broke in Mrs. Stickles. "Don't I know +'im, an' wot a mean sneak he is. He's suspicious of everybody, an' is +always lookin' fer trouble. An' as to meanness, why he hasn't a heart as +big as the smallest chicken. Ye could take a thousand hearts sich as his'n +an' stick 'em all to the wall with one tiny pin, an' then they wouldn't be +half way up to the head. Mean! Why didn't he once put a twenty-five cent +piece inter the kerlection plate by mistake, an' come back the next day to +git it, an' gave a cent in its place. If that ain't mean I'd like to know +whar ye'd find it," and Mrs. Stickles sniffed contemptuously as her +needles whirled and rattled between her nimble fingers. + +"Yes," Mrs. Larkins replied, "he carries his meanness into everything. If +he even imagines that it was the parson's fault that the house burned +down, and the will was destroyed, his anger will burn like fire. He's very +revengeful, too, and has an old grudge to pay back. The parson, you know, +was the means of making him close up his liquor business some years ago, +and he has been waiting ever since for a chance to hit back. I tell you +this, Mrs. Stickles, that a man who tries to do his duty is bound to stir +up opposition, and sometimes I wonder why such a good man should have to +bear with vindictive enemies. I suppose it's for some purpose." + +"Indeed it is, Mrs. Larkins. Indeed it is," and Mrs. Stickles' needles +clicked faster than ever. "It was only last night I was talkin' to my man +John about this very thing. 'John,' sez I, 'd'ye remember them two apple +trees in the orchard down by the fence?' + +"'Well,' sez he. + +"'An' ye recollect,' sez I, 'how one was loaded down with apples, while +t'other had nuthin' but leaves?' + +"I remember," sez he. + +"'Well, then,' sez I, 'One was pelted with sticks an' stones all summer, +an' even hed some of its branches broken, while t'other was not teched. +Why was that? + +"'Cause it hed plenty of good fruit on it,' sez he. + +"'Jist so,' sez I. 'Cause it hed good fruit. An' that's why so often the +Lord's good people er pelted with vile words cause they're loaded down +with good deeds. If they never did nuthin' the devil 'ud leave 'em alone, +but jist 'cause they bear good fruit is the reason they're pelted.' John +reckoned I was right, an' he's got a purty level head, if I do say it." + +"I only hope most of the people in the parish will stand by the parson," +replied Mrs. Larkins. "I know some will, but there are others who are +easily led, and Tom Fletcher's got a sharp tongue." + +"Why wouldn't they stan' by 'im, Mrs. Larkins? Wot hev they agin 'im? Tell +me that." + +Mrs. Larkins did not answer for a while, but sat gazing out of the window +as if she did not hear the remark. + +"I'm thinking of the parson's son, Philip," Mrs. Larkins at length +replied. "You know about him, of course?" + +"Sartin' I do. I've knowed Phillie sense he was a baby, an' held 'im in me +arms, too. He was a sweet lamb, that's wot he was. I understan' he's a +minin' ingineer out in British Columbia, an' doin' fine from the last +account I heerd." + +"That was some time ago, Mrs. Stickles, was it not?" + +"I believe it was last summer." + +"Well, it seems that Philip's in trouble." + +"Lan' sake, ye don't tell me!" and Mrs. Stickles dropped her knitting and +held up her hands in horror. "I was afeered of it, Mrs. Larkins. It's no +place fer man or beast out thar. Hev the Injins hurt 'im, or the bears +clawed 'im? I understan' they're thick as flies in summer." + +"Oh, no, not that," replied Mrs. Larkins. "You see over a year ago Philip +invested in some mining property out there, and the prospects looked so +bright that he induced his father to join him in the enterprise. Though +the parson's salary has always been small, with strict economy he had laid +something by each year for his old age. The whole of this he gave to +Philip to be invested. For a time things looked very bright and it seemed +as if the mines would produce handsome profits. Unfortunately several +claimants for the property suddenly turned up, with the result that the +whole affair is now in litigation. The case is to be decided in a few +months, and should it go against Philip he and his father will be ruined. +Philip manages the matter, and the parson advances what money he can +scrape together. Just lately the whole affair has leaked out, and some +people, knowing how the parson needs money, may not be slow to impute to +him things of which he is entirely ignorant." + +Mrs. Stickles was about to speak, when a jingle of bells sounded outside. +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed, "Sammy's back already!" With that, she +rose to her feet, and the conversation ended. + +The church was crowded the day old Billy was buried, for a funeral in +Glendow was always an important event. Parson John was clad in his simple +robes of office and read the Burial Service in a resonant, well-modulated +voice. Beholding such nobleness, gentleness and dignity of his face and +bearing, only the most suspicious could associate him with any underhanded +dealing. What connection had such a man with the base things of life? +Mounting the pulpit, he gave a short, impressive address. There was no +sentiment, or flowery language. He glossed nothing over, but in a few +words sketched Billy Fletcher's life, and pointed him out as a warning to +those who become careless and indifferent to higher things. + +"The parson talked mighty plain to-day," said one man in a low voice to +another, as they wended their way to the graveyard. "He didn't put poor +Billy in Heaven, that's certain, and perhaps he's right. I guess he hit +the Fletchers pretty hard." + +"Oh, yes," the other replied. "The parson got his say from the pulpit, hut +the Fletchers will have theirs later." + +"Why, what have they to say?" + +"Oh, you'll see." + +"About that box?" + +"Yes." + +"Tut, tut, man. Why, they haven't a leg to stand on in that matter." + +"But they'll make legs. Surely you know Tom Fletcher by this time. He'll +stop at nothing when once he gets started, and though he may not be able +to do anything definitely, he'll do a lot of talking, and talk tells in +Glendow, mark my word." + +And this proved only too true. Talk did begin to tell both in the homes +and at the stores. One man, who had met the parson on a hurried trip to +the city, declared that he was driving like mad, and hardly spoke in +passing. Another related that when Tom Fletcher asked Billy about the box, +the dying man pointed to the parson, and tried to speak. Though some of +the more sensible scoffed at such stories as ridiculous, it made little +difference, for they passed from mouth to mouth, increasing in interest +and importance according to the imagination of the narrator. + +Although this slander with malignant breath was spreading through the +parish, it did not for a time reach the Rectory. All unconscious of +impending trouble, father and daughter lived their quiet life happy in +each other's company. + + + + +Chapter VI + +The Auction + + +The day of the auction of the Frenelle homestead dawned mild and clear. + +"Don't give Dan too many lessons," laughed Parson John, as he kissed his +daughter good-bye and tucked in the robes about his feet. + +"No fear, father," was the laughing reply. "Perhaps he will turn the +tables upon me. He knows so much about the woods, wild animals and birds +that I like to learn from him." + +Midnight strode along the road, glad of the run in the fresh air. The +sleigh bells sent forth their sweet music, echoing and re-echoing from the +neighbouring hills and forest. Everything spoke of peace, and in Parson +John's heart dwelt a deeper peace, as he guided Midnight through the +gateway and reined her up before the Frenelle door. + +Though he was somewhat early, others were earlier still, and a group of +men, hardy sons of toil, were standing near the house engaged in earnest +conversation. They had come a long distance, for an auction such as this +was a most unusual occurrence in Glendow. The Frenelle homestead had +belonged to the family from the early Loyalist days, descending from +father to son for several generations. Each had contributed something to +the improvement of the land, but it remained for Peter Frenelle, Stephen's +father, to bring it under an excellent state of cultivation. A +clear-headed, hard-working man, he had brought his scientific knowledge, +acquired by careful study, to bear upon the soil, until his broad, rich +acres, free from stone, became the envy and admiration of the parish. + +One quiet evening he was strolling around the farm with Parson John, his +firm and faithful counsellor from childhood. Looking across the fields of +waving grain, and down upon the long straight rows of corn, standing +golden in the setting sun, he paused in his walk, and remained for some +time in deep thought. "John," he at length remarked, placing his hand +affectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "the Lord has been very good +to me all of these years. He has blessed me in house and field; He has +given me health and strength, and now in my latter days peace and light at +eventide." + +His companion was not surprised at these words, for often before had Mr. +Frenelle talked in this manner. But early the next morning when he was +summoned to his friend's bedside, to receive his final message, and to +hold the hand outstretched to him till it was still and cold, the solemn +utterance of the previous evening came forcibly to his mind. + +For several years after her husband's sudden death, Mrs. Frenelle managed +the farm and exhibited remarkable skill in directing the various hired +labourers. + +But as Stephen, her only son, advanced to manhood she relinquished the +responsibility and devoted her time almost entirely to her household +affairs. This change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. Stephen +disliked the drudgery of farm life and left the work to the hired men. So +long as he could draw upon his father's careful savings to pay the wages +and supply his own needs, he did not worry. The neighbours shook their +heads and prophesied trouble as they saw the land producing less each +year, and its acres, formerly rich with grain, covered with bushes. Parson +John reasoned and remonstrated, though all in vain. Stephen always +promised to do better, but in the end continued the same as before. At +last the awakening came, sudden and terrible. The bank account had been +overdrawn to a considerable extent, and payment was demanded. The only +thing to do was to mortgage the farm, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Frenelle +signed the pledge of death to the dear homestead. For a time Stephen tried +to settle down to steady work, but the old habit of carelessness was too +strong upon him, and ere long he drifted back to his former ways. The +interest on the mortgage remained unpaid. Foreclosure was the inevitable +result, and the farm was accordingly advertised for sale. + +At last the day of doom had arrived. + +Parson John found Mrs. Frenelle in the cosy sitting-room with her invalid +daughter, Nora. The latter was endeavouring to comfort her mother. The +girl's face, although worn with care and suffering, was sweet to look +upon. She was not what one would call pretty, but it was impossible to be +long in her presence without feeling the influence of her strong buoyant +disposition. The angel of pain had purged away much of the dross of her +nature, leaving the pure gold undimmed. She inherited, too, much of her +father's strength of character which seemed to be lacking in her brother. + +"What are we to do?" sobbed poor Mrs. Frenelle, as the parson entered the +room. "We will be driven from our dear old home, where we have spent so +many happy years! We will be penniless!" + +"Hush, mother dear," remonstrated her daughter. "Don't get so discouraged. +The place may bring more than will cover the mortgage. We will have that +to start with again, and in a few years we may be able to pay everything +off. Stephen may settle down to hard, steady work and all will be well." + +"Nora is right," replied the parson. "The purchaser, whoever he is, will +no doubt let you remain here, and give you a fair chance to redeem the +place. Our Glendow people, you know, have big hearts." + +"Oh, I wish I could see it in that light," and Mrs. Frenelle glanced at +the clergyman through her tears. "It is Mr. Farrington I fear. His mind is +set upon having this place. He has looked upon it with greedy eyes for a +number of years. He has only a little land in connection with his store, +and his wife is always complaining that they have not enough room. She has +said on several occasions that they would own this farm some day. Then, +you see, Farrington is a candidate for the next Councillor election. He +has large ambitions, and hopes eventually to run for the Local House. He +thinks a place such as this with its fine, old-fashioned house will give +him a certain standing which he now lacks. He wants to pose as a country +gentleman, and his wife wishes to have the house in which to entertain her +distinguished guests, who, as she imagines, will visit them. Oh, to think +of Mrs. Farrington living here!" and the poor woman buried her face in her +hands. + +"But perhaps someone else will outbid him," suggested Mr. Westmore. "I +would not lose heart yet." + +"There is no one in Glendow able to bid successfully against Mr. +Farrington," Nora replied. "We have learned, however, that Mr. Turpin, a +real estate man, arrived from the city last night. He wishes to buy the +place merely as a speculation, hoping to turn it over to some rich people +who wish to come to Canada to settle. But there is the bell!" and she +half-started from her invalid's chair, but sank back with a little cry at +the pain caused by the sudden movement. + +As the day was mild the auction took place in the open where the +auctioneer, surrounded by some two dozen men, was mounted on a large box. +At first the bidding was general and brisk. Gradually, however, it +dwindled down to three or four, and finally to Farrington and Turpin, the +real estate man. The former was standing a little apart from the rest, +with his eyes intent upon the auctioneer, and unable to repress the +eagerness which shone in his face. As the bidding advanced and drew near +the three thousand dollar mark, Turpin showed signs of weakening, while +his bids came slower and slower. Farrington, noticing this, could not +control his pleasure, and when he at length offered the round sum of three +thousand dollars Turpin gave up the struggle and, moving back a little, +perched himself upon a barrel, and seemed to take no interest in the +affair. + +A triumphant light gleamed in Farrington's eyes as he observed his +vanquished opponent. He glanced towards the house, and, seeing Mrs. +Frenelle standing in the doorway, his lips parted in a cruel smile. It was +that smile more than anything else which revealed the real nature of the +man. + +The breathless silence which for a time ensued at this crisis was broken +by the harsh cry of the auctioneer: + +"Three thousand dollars!" he called. "Going at three thousand dollars! Any +advance on three thousand dollars. Going at three thousand dollars. Once-- +twice--third--and--" + +"Three thousand one hundred," came suddenly from Parson John. + +An earthquake shock could hardly have startled the men more than this bid +from such an unexpected quarter. + +Farrington's face reddened, and he moved a step nearer to be sure that he +had not been mistaken. + +"Did I hear aright?" he gasped. "Did the parson add one hundred to my +bid?" + +"Three thousand one hundred dollars from Parson Westmore," shouted the +auctioneer. "Any advance on three thousand one hundred dollars?" + +"Another hundred, then, damn it," and Farrington thrust his hands deeper +into his pockets, while his eyes gleamed with an angry light. + +"Three thousand five hundred," came the quiet response. + +Silence followed this last bid, which plainly proved that Farrington, too, +was weakening. He looked around as if uncertain what to do, and his eyes +rested upon Mrs. Frenelle. In her eagerness she had moved from the door, +and was standing near the group of men with her eyes fixed full upon the +clergyman. The expression upon her face was that of a drowning person, +who, when all hope has been abandoned, sees a rescuer suddenly at hand. It +was this look more than the half-suppressed laugh that passed among the +men, which caused him to fling another one hundred dollars at the +auctioneer. + +"Four thousand," again came strong and clear from Parson John without the +slightest hesitation. + +The auctioneer waited for Farrington to increase his bid. The men almost +held their breath in the excitement of the moment, and Mrs. Frenelle moved +a step nearer with her hands firmly clasped before her. + +"Four thousand dollars," the auctioneer spoke slowly and impressively now. +"Any--advance--on four thousand dollars? Going at four thousand dollars-- +Once--twice--third--and----last call----, and sold to Parson Westmore for +four thousand dollars." + +As these words fell from the speaker's lips a deep sigh broke the tense +feeling of the little company. They had been stirred more than was their +wont by the scene that they had just witnessed. These men knew but little +of the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms, the strife of modern nations, +the deeds of statesmen, and the affairs of the financial world. And yet in +the sale of this farm in an obscure country place the secret springs of +life, even though on a small scale, were laid bare. The pathos of a happy +home on the verge of destruction, with a loving mother and an invalid +child in danger of being cast out upon the cold world, and to see this +tragedy so narrowly averted through one staunch champion successfully +beating back pride and greed as represented in the person of Silas +Farrington--truly it was a miniature of the world's history, which may be +found in every town, village or home. + +"I trust you understand the conditions of the sale, sir," and the +auctioneer looked curiously at the clergyman, who was standing somewhat by +himself. "One-third of the amount down, and the balance in half-yearly +payments. I only mention this in case you may not know it." + +"I understand perfectly well," was the reply. "The _whole_ amount +shall be paid at once, and the matter settled without delay." + +"Guess the ministry must be a payin' job," sneered Farrington, "when a +poor country parson kin fork out four thousand dollars at one slap. I see +now why ye're allus dunnin' us fer money. Mebbe ye've got a hot sermon all +ready on the subject fer us next Sunday." + +Mr. Westmore looked intently at the man for an instant, and his lips +parted as if to reply. Instead, however, he turned without a word and +moved slowly towards the house. + +He reached Nora's side, and took her outstretched hand in his. Tears of +joy were in her eyes as she lifted them to her Rector's face, and +endeavoured to find adequate words in which to express her gratitude. + +"I know we are safe now!" she said. "But we never thought of you buying +the place! I cannot understand it at all. Four thousand dollars! What a +lot of money!" + +"No, my child, you cannot understand it now, but you will some day," and +as Mr. Westmore turned his face towards the window a tear might have been +detected stealing slowly down his furrowed cheek. + + + + +Chapter VII + +The Farringtons + + +Silas Farrington flung himself out of his sleigh and handed the reins to a +young man who had come forth from the store. + +"What are ye so slow about?" he snarled. "Here I've been callin' fer the +last five minutes. Why don't ye hustle when I call?" + +"I was running molasses," came the surly reply, "and how could I leave--" + +"There now, no back talk; I never allow it. Put up the horse, an' don't +spend all day about it, either." + +With these words Farrington made his way to the house, leaving the young +man inwardly cursing his unjust master. + +"Ye're late, Si," a voice exclaimed, as he opened the door and entered. +"We've been waitin' fer ye a full hour or more." + +"I couldn't help it," Farrington replied. "I was delayed." + +"An' how much did ye pay fer the farm, Si?" + +"Farm be--be--hanged! I'm sick of it." + +"But didn't ye git it, Si?" his wife persisted. + +"Git it? No!" + +"What!" + +"I said no!" + +"But who did, then?" + +"The parson." + +"What! Parson John?" + +"Certainly. Who else would he fool enough to interfere with me?" + +"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Farrington. "Do tell us about it, Si?" + +"No, not a word more about it," snapped her husband, "till we git down to +dinner. I'm most starved. Is it ready?" + +"Dear me, yes. I'd clean fergot about it," and Mrs. Farrington bustled off +to the kitchen. + +Everything in the dining-room betokened care and industry, from the +nicely-papered walls, adorned with pictures, to the large sideboard, with +its display of old china and glassware. The table-linen was spotlessly +clean, and the food served up was well cooked. But, notwithstanding this, +something seemed wrong. An indefinable atmosphere pervaded the place which +spoiled the effect of it all. It was not the corrupted English falling +from the lips of these people which grated so harshly upon the senses. It +was the spirit of pretence which overshadowed everything--the effort to be +what they were not. Had old Titbottom been there with his magic +spectacles, he would have beheld in Farrington little more than a roll of +bills; in his wife the very essence of pretence and ambition; while the +daughter Eudora and their son Dick would be labelled "exact samples" of +the parents. + +Farrington told of the auction in no measured terms. He was annoyed at the +unexpected outcome and did not try to conceal his anger. The inserted +exclamations of the family told their own tale. They were much +disappointed, especially Mrs. Farrington. + +"Only think!" she cried, when her husband had ended, "that the parson +above all men should interfere in this matter! Him that's allus talkin' +about lovin' our neighbours as ourselves, standin' a-tween us an' our +natral rights. I hev often told Eudora, heven't I, dear? that we need a +better place than this. Now, that Frenelle homestead is jist what we want, +an' it seemed as if the Lord intended we should hev it, too. It is so +included from all pryin' eyes, an' away from them country people who are +so uncongenial. Their manners are so rough an' they know so little about +proper equity. The parson knows very well that we are city bred, an' that +our descendants hev allus had good blood in their veins, an' that we try +to follow their Example by givin' a tone to the community ever sense we +came from the city. He knows what we are a-tryin' to do, an' yit he'll +serve us in this mean fashion." + +"I wonder where he got the spondulicks," broke in her son Richard. + +"Richard, Richard! you must not use sech a word as that," and Mrs. +Farrington cast a reproving glance at her son. "Ye must hev heerd it from +Tom Jones; ye know ye never hear it at home, fer we are allus very +pertickeler about our language." + +"Well, money, then, ma. I don't care what ye call it." + +"Oh, I guess that'll not be hard to account fer," replied Farrington with +a knowing laugh. "Tom Fletcher may be able to throw some light upon the +subject. It seems to me that the parson has come to the end of his rope. +We've borne with 'im fer years, an' it's about time he was makin' a move. +He's too old fer the ministry. We need a young man, with fire an' vim. +Anyway, the rest may do as they please, but as fer me not another cent do +I pay as long as he is in charge." + +"Ye've allus paid well, Si," remarked his wife, "an' the parson is not one +bit grateful." + +"Yes, I reckon I hev," and Farrington gulped down, his tea. "I used to +contribute heavily; eight dollars a year, an' a bag of oats at Christmas. +Now I give only four sense I've enlarged my bizness an' can't afford so +much. Besides, the parson doesn't deal with me as much as he should. He +gits too many of his supplies in the city. If he expects me to paternise +'im he must deal with me. I've told 'im so very plainly on several +occasions." + +"Ye certainly did yer part, Si," Mrs. Farrington replied. "If all in the +parish 'ud do as well there'd be no trouble. It is disgraceful that these +country people do not pay more to support the Church. It throws sich a +burden upon us. Only think of Mrs. Jimmy Brown buyin' a new Bristles +carpet, when the old one was quite good enough. An' her last year's hat +could hev been made over as well as not. But, no, it would not do. She had +to hev another, which cost quite a penny, so I understand." + +"An' Vivien Nelson's fur-lined coat, ma," chimed in Eudora, "I know it +didn't cost one cent less than seventy-five dollars!" + +"These country people are so extravagant, ye know," returned her mother. +"They are allus tryin' to imitate their sufferiors. To think of Vivien +Nelson, a farmer's daughter, hevin' a fur-lined coat which cost almost as +much as Eudora's! It is really disgraceful! I'm sure her father could give +more to the Church than he does, an' yit he'll let us hear the brunt of +the burden." + +"Guess he'll hev to bear mor'n ever now," replied her husband as he rose +from the table. "I'm done with the whole bizness, an' I'm mighty glad I +heven't paid fer the last year, an' don't intend to now." + +As Farrington passed out of the dining-room into the store, his clerk, a +young man new to the business, was serving a middle-aged woman at the +counter. + +"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sturgis," the former was saying, "but we are entirely out +of it just now. We can order it for you, though, and have it in a few +days." + +Farrington turned angrily upon his heel as these words fell upon his ears. + +"What does she want?" he demanded. + +"Number forty, white thread; but we're out of it." + +"You stupid blockhead, we're not out of it! We're never out! If you'd use +yer eyes half as much as yer tongue ye'd be all right." + +"But I can't find it. I've looked everywhere," and the clerk's eyes flashed +danger as he turned them upon his master. + +"Well, look again. Don't stand thar starin' like an ijut!" + +The young man did as he was commanded. He searched and rummaged, but all +in vain. + +"Oh, come out of that, an' let me thar," and Farrington shoved his way +past the clerk, and fumbled excitedly in the box. + +"Ah-yes-no-fifty-sixty-Well, I declare! Not thar! Confound it! Why didn't +ye tell me we were out before? Why did ye wait till the last spool was +gone afore sayin' a word about it?" + +"I've only been here a week," replied the clerk, "and how could I know you +were out. No one has called for number forty thread since I've been here." + +Farrington was beaten, and was forced to swallow his anger as best he +could. It was most aggravating to be thus humiliated in the presence of +this woman. He strode across the room, and stood with his back to the +stove, wondering how he could get even with his clerk. He would discharge +him. "No, that wouldn't do. It was hard to get a man to stay with him, and +this was a good worker. Anyway, he must be taught his place, and not +answer back. He would let him know that he owned the store. + +"Give me my mail, please." + +Farrington started, and turning, beheld a little lad standing by his side. + +"Mail! whose mail?" he demanded, glad of an excuse to give vent to his +anger. "What's yer name? I don't know anything about _my_ mail." + +"I want Parson John's mail," persisted the boy. Don't you know him?" + +"Know 'im! Well, I guess! I know 'im too d--n well. But who are you, and +what do ye want with the parson's mail?" + +"Oh, I live with him now. I'm Dan, old Jim's boy. Didn't you know I was +there?" + +"Ha, ha, that's a good one! To think that I should know every brat who +comes to the place." + +"I'm not a brat! I'm almost a man," and Dan straightened himself up. "Give +me my mail, please; Parson John's waiting for it." + +"Let 'im wait. I'm not supposed to give out mail to all the riff-raff who +comes fer it. Why doesn't he come 'imself?" + +"He's busy." + +"Busy! busy! Yes, I s'pose he is busy, plannin' mischief; wonderin' what +to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. How much did he git? I s'pose he gave +you some to hold yer tongue." + +Farrington had no intention of uttering these last words, but his heart +was so full of anger that he hardly knew what he was saying. + +Dan's eyes flashed, and his little hands suddenly doubled at his side. He +did not comprehend the meaning of these words, but he felt that his +friend, the white-headed old man, was being insulted. With him to think +was to act, and many a boy larger than himself had felt the lightning +blows of those little tense knuckles. + +"What do ye mean?" he demanded, looking up into Farrington's face. + +"What do I mean? Well, if ye want to know, I mean that Parson John is a +rogue, an' that you are nuthin' but a young sucker, an impudent outcast, +spongin' fer yer livin' upon others." + +Hardly had the words left Farrington's lips, when, with a cry as of a wild +animal, Dan leaped full upon him, caught him by the hair with one hand, +and with the other rained blow after blow upon his face. + +With a howl of mingled pain and rage, Farrington endeavoured to free +himself from this human wild-cat. He struggled and fought, and at length +succeeded in tearing away that writhing, battering form. With one hand he +held him at arm's length and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Dan +struggled, squirmed and bit, but all in vain; he was held as in a vice. +Not satisfied with shaking the lad, Farrington reached over and, seizing a +broken barrel stave from the wood-box, brought it down over the lad's +shoulder and back with a resounding thud. A cry of pain, the first that he +had uttered, fell from Dan's lips, and with a mighty effort he tried to +escape. The stick was raised again. It was about to fall, when suddenly it +flew into the air, the grip of the boy relaxed, and Farrington staggered +back from a furious blow dealt him by the young clerk. Farrington tried to +recover, but each time he was hurled to the floor by the stalwart athlete +standing before him, his eyes blazing with anger. + +"Get up, you coward!" he cried, when at length Farrington remained +sprawling upon the floor. "Get up if you can, and dare!" + +"Curse you!" snarled the defeated man. "Ye'll pay fer this!" + +"We'll see about that later," calmly replied the clerk. "There's to be no +more bullying while I'm here, and I won't be here long, for I'm done with +you and your outfit." + +"Go, go at once, d--n you, or I'll kick ye out!" shouted Farrington. + +"Kick me out, if you can," came the reply. "Get up and do it," and the +young man laughed scornfully. "No, you know you can't. Now, look here; +just a word before we part. I've stood your insolent abuse for a week, +without retaliating. But when you laid hands upon that boy it was a +different matter." + +"But he flew at me like a wild-cat," Farrington growled. + +"Yes, and wouldn't anyone with a spark of life in him at all, after he had +been insulted by such a thing as you. You like to get a chap such as that +in your claws and torture him. You've done it before, I understand. But +it's not been such fun this time. No, no, the worm has turned at last. I'm +going now--so do what you like. I've no fear of such a thing as you." + +He turned, put on his heavy coat and left the building. As he did so Dan +slipped out ahead of him, and started up the road as fast as his little +feet would carry him. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +The Golden Key + + +"Why, Dan, what's the matter?" + +Nellie was sitting before the open fire busily engaged with her needle as +the lad entered the room. He stared at her for an instant, and then a +sheepish grin crossed his face. His clothes were torn, and his hair tossed +in the wildest confusion, while marks of blood spotted his cheeks. + +"What in the world have you been doing?" Nellie insisted. + +"Nuthin' much," came the slow reply, + +"Well, you don't look like it. Have you been fighting?" + +"Y'bet!" and Dan smacked his lips. "I swatted him good and hard, that's +what I did." + +"Did what?" + +"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair." + +"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't +understand. Sit down, and tell me about it." + +Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the +scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless +interest. + +"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you +sure?" + +"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad +name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his +throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and +sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had +always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the +road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a +forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoarse croak +of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he +doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he +alive? + +"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown +eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart. + +"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody +called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted +him." + +Nellie remained silent for a while, steadily working away at her sewing. + +"Dan," she said at length, "I want you to promise me something, will you?" + +"Y'bet. What is it?" + +"I want you to promise that you will say nothing about this to my father." + +"Why? Wouldn't he like to know how I punched that man?" + +"No, no. And besides I don't want him to know what has been said about +him. It's a cruel lie, and if father hears of it, it will worry him so +much. Will you keep the secret with me?" + +"Yes, if you want me to. I'll not say a word, but, oh, I think Parson John +would like to know how I punched him," and Dan gave a deep sigh at the +thought of losing such pleasure. + +"Thank you," Nellie replied. "I know I can trust you. Run away now, change +your clothes, and wash your face; then get the wood in, before father +comes home." + +Long and silently Nellie remained before the fire with her hands resting +upon her lap. Her brain was in a tumult, and her heart ached. What else +was being said about her father? To whom should she go for information? +She thought of Mrs. Larkins, but then she was over at the Hall getting +ready for a church sale to be given that very evening by the Ladies' Aid +Society. Stephen was coming for her early, as she was to have charge of +one of the fancy booths. Afterwards there was to be a quiet dance by the +young people, and she had promised Stephen that she would stay for a +while, and have her first dance with him. + +At length she aroused from her reverie and prepared her father's supper. +How weary he looked, she thought, as she sat and watched him, and listened +to his casual talk about his afternoon visit and the auction in the +morning. A feeling of resentment filled her heart as she recalled what +Farrington had said. To think that he should say such things about her +father, who was always so patient and loving; who was ever trying to help +others, no matter who they were. Tears came to her eyes at the thought. +Suddenly she rose, and going to where her father was sitting put her arms +around him, and gave him a loving kiss. + +"Ho, ho!" came the delighted exclamation. "What ails my little girl +to-night? What does she want now?" + +"I want you, daddy," she replied. "I want to love you more, and be more +help to you." + +"Help me more! What could you do more than you do now? There, run away and +get ready. I hear bells; Stephen must be coming, and I'm afraid you'll be +late. Dan and I will look after the dishes." + +That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler +tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was +truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as +they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and +strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for +the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and +maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were +their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life. + +Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest +conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around +and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the +room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down +by her side. + +"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you +would care to remain." + +"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins +replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie." + +"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience +troubles me." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, about my father." + +"Why, is he sick?" + +"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should +have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it +was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; +thinking about others all the time." + +"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind." + +"Yes, I know that. But he is feeling rather down-cast to-night after that +auction this morning. Some cruel things were said about him, and I always +know when he is in trouble, though he seldom complains." + +Nellie paused, and gazed for a time upon the group in the centre of the +room, as if intent on what was taking place there. Then her dark eyes, +filled with a questioning look, turned full upon Mrs. Larkins' face. + +"I am glad to be with you for a few moments," she whispered, "for I wish +to ask you something. I have only spoken of it to Vivien, for she is so +true and noble. Have you heard these stories about my father, Mrs. +Larkins?" + +"In connection with Billy Fletcher's gold?" was the reply. + +"Yes, yes, that is what I mean. Oh, it troubles me so much." + +"Yes, I have heard some of them, Nellie. But do not give yourself +unnecessary concern. Evil-minded people will talk. I said nothing to you, +hoping the matter would soon die down. Has your father heard anything?" + +"No, not yet, and I trust no one will tell him. He has enough worry now +without these. He has that trouble with the mine in British Columbia; +then, this morning's annoyance. Oh, he must not know what people are +saying!" + +"I have heard but little lately," Mrs. Larkins responded in an effort to +comfort her. "Let us trust that the talk will not amount to much." + +"But Vivien tells me that it is not so. Since the auction the stories have +started up again stronger than ever. People cannot understand where father +got so much money to pay for the farm. I don't even know myself, for +father never told me. Tom Fletcher and others are saying all sorts of +things. What shall we do?" + +Her bosom heaved as she uttered these words, which somewhat expressed the +agitated state of her mind. Before Mrs. Larkins could further reply, the +music struck up, and Stephen came for Nellie to claim her for the opening +dance. + +"How worthy," thought Mrs. Larkins as her eyes followed Nellie as she went +forward, "is she of a true man's love. What nobleness and strength of +character are there. But what of Stephen? If he would only get the right +grip. Such a face as his is surely meant for higher things than a life of +carelessness." + +She was aroused by Farrington, who had taken the seat by her side which +Nellie had recently vacated. + +"They're hevin' a good time," he began, nodding towards the dancers. +"Dick's in his element to-night." + +"Rhoda Gadsby makes him a good partner," replied Mrs. Larkins. + +"Only fair, Mrs. Larkins, only fair. She's not a bad girl, but no real +pardner fer my son Dick. I'm sorry her father is my opponent at the comin' +election. He'll never win, mark my word. Gadsby's too full of notions. He +wants to set the world on fire, an' has all kinds of new-fangled idees. He +will never do fer a Councillor-never. What Glendow wants is a real +practical man, one who understands human nater." + +"But Mr. Gadsby is a superior man," replied Mrs. Larkins. "He reads much, +and is trying to farm along scientific lines." + +"Tryin' to farm! Yes, yer right thar, Mrs. Larkins. But that's about as +fer as he's got. He has big idees, an' is allus talkin' about this parish +bein' behint the times." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, as regards the schools. They don't teach enough branches, sich as +botany, drawin' an' sich like. What do the childern of Glendow want with +botany stuck into their brains? Let 'em learn to read, write an' cipher. +Them things will pay. But as fer botany, who ever heerd of it helpin' a +man to manage a farm, or a woman to sew, cook or make butter? Now, look at +me, Mrs. Larkins. I never studied botany, an' behold my bizness. I don't +know a bit about botany, an' here I'm runnin' fer a Councillor, an' +lookin' forred to the Local House. No, no, this botany bizness is all +nonsense." + +"But," remonstrated Mrs. Larkins, "do you not enjoy the beautiful? Life +should be more than the mere grubbing through dust and heat, grinding out +our little day, wearing out the body and cramping up the soul in field, +factory, office or behind the counter. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and +whatever tends to enlarge our children's perspective, which will give them +a love for the beautiful, will lessen the drudgery of life, and develop +their characters. The Creator who made human beings in His own image, and +endowed them with powers above the brute creation, surely intended that +these divine faculties should be used and not allowed to lie dormant." + +Mrs. Larkins spoke more strongly than was her wont. She was naturally a +quiet woman. But this man's narrowness and ignorance nettled her. +Farrington, however, was not in the least affected by such words; in fact +he rather pitied anyone who did not see eye to eye with him. + +"What ye say, Mrs. Larkins," he replied, "is very fine in theory. But the +question is, 'Will it pay?' Fer them as likes sich things they may study +'em to their hearts' content. But what do sich people amount to? I seen +the parson once stand fer a long time watchin' the settin' sun, an' when I +axed 'im what he saw he looked at me sorter dazed like. 'Mr. Farrington,' +sez he, 'I saw wonderful things to-night, past man's understandin'. I've +been very near to God, an' beheld the trailin' clouds of His glory!' +'Parson,' sez I, 'What will ye take fer yer knowledge? How much is it +worth? While ye've been gazin' out thar at that sunset I've been gazin' at +these letters, an' I find I'm better off by twenty-five dollars by gittin' +my eggs an' butter to market day afore yesterday, jist when the prices had +riz. That's what comes of gazin' at facts sich as price lists an' knowin' +how to buy an' sell at the right time. That's of more value than lookin' +at all the flowers an' sunsets in the world!' The parson didn't say +nuthin', but jist looked at me, while the men in the store haw-hawed right +out an' told the joke all round. Xo, you may find music in ripplin' water, +an' poetry in flowers, an' sunsets, as Phil Gadsby and the parson sez, but +give me the poetry of a price list, an' the music of good solid coin upon +my counter. Them's the things which tell, an' them's the things we want +taught in our schools." + +Just as Farrington finished, cries of fright fell upon their ears. Turning +quickly towards the dancers Mrs. Larkins noticed that most of them had +fallen back in little groups, leaving Stephen Frenelle and Dick Farrington +alone in the middle of the room. The attitude of the two left no doubt as +to the cause of the disturbance. With clenched fists they faced each other +as if about to engage in a fierce struggle. The former's eyes glowed with +an intense light, while his strained, white face betokened the agitated +state of his feelings. + +"Say that again!" he hissed, looking straight at his opponent. "Say it if +you dare!" + +Dick stood irresolute with the look of fear blanching his face at sight of +the angry form before him. While he hesitated and all held their breath, +Nellie Westmore moved swiftly forward, and laid a timid hand upon +Stephen's arm. + +"Stephen, Stephen!" she pleaded. "Stop! don't go any further! Be a man! +Come, let us go home!" + +Quickly he turned and looked into her eyes, and at that look the pallor +fled his face, leaving it flushed and abashed. His clenched hands relaxed, +and without a word he followed her to the door. As they donned their wraps +and passed out into the night, sighs of relief at the termination of this +startling incident were plainly heard. Dick gave a sarcastic laugh, and +the dance continued as if nothing unusual had happened. + +For a while neither Nellie nor Stephen spoke as they sped along the road, +drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare. The night was clear, and the +crescent moon rose high in the heavens. Not a breath of wind stirred the +trees, and the only sound which broke the silence was the jingling bells +keeping time to the horse's nimble feet. + +"He called me a fool and a pauper!" Stephen at length exclaimed. "Did you +hear him?" + +"Certainly," came the reply. "How could any one help hearing him?" + +"I'd have knocked him down if it hadn't been for you, Nellie." + +"I'm glad you didn't, Stephen." + +"But I'll show him a thing or two. I'll get even with him yet. I'll teach +him to call me a fool and a pauper!" + +"Why not get more than even with him? You can do it without any trouble." + +Nellie spoke very impressively, and Stephen looked at her in surprise. + +"I know I can do that, for he's nothing but a clown. But what else can I +do?" + +"I didn't mean that, Stephen. That is only getting even with your opponent +in brute fashion. You will only be putting yourself on an equality with +him. You want to get more than even, not by hitting back and returning +abuse for abuse. No, not that way, but by rising above him in manhood." + +"How? In what way, Nellie?" + +"Settle down to steady work. Redeem your home. Show Dick and the people of +Glendow that you are not a fool or a pauper, but a man. Oh, Stephen, we +want to be proud of you--and I do, too." + +"Do you, Nellie, really?" + +"Indeed I do, Stephen." + +For an instant only their eyes met. For an instant there was silence. But +in that instant, that mere atom of time, there opened up to Stephen a new +meaning of life. A virile energy rent the old husk of indifference, and a +yearning, startling in its intensity, stabbed his heart, to "make good," +to recover lost ground and to do something of which Nellie should be +proud. + +It was love--the golden key which had at last opened to the young man the +mystic door of life's great responsibility. + + + + +Chapter IX + +Beating the Devil + + +"Father, I am becoming uneasy about Dan." + +Parson John and Nellie were walking slowly along the road from the neat +little parish church. It was a Sunday morning. Not a breath of wind +stirred the balmy and spring-like air. A recent thaw had removed much of +the snow, leaving the fields quite bare, the roads slippery, and the ice +on the river like one huge gleaming mirror. + +"Why, what do you mean?" asked the parson. "What makes you uneasy about +Dan?" + +"He has been so restless of late." + +"Doesn't he mind you?" + +"Oh, yes. He is always ready and anxious to do anything I ask him. But +there is a far-away look in his eyes, and sometimes he gives such a start +when I speak to him. His old life was so rough and stirring, that I fear +he misses it, and longs to be back there, again." + +"But he is interested in his studies, is he not?" + +"Yes, to a certain extent. But not as much as formerly. It is hard for him +to settle down to steady work. He seems to be thinking and dreaming of +something else. I cannot understand him at all. I love the lad, and +believe he is much attached to us." + +"What do you think we had better do?" + +"I hardly know, father. But you might take him with you sometimes on your +drives. He is passionately fond of Midnight, and it would liven him up. +Why not let him go with you to the funeral at Craig's Corner this +afternoon? He would be company for you, too." + +"But I'm not coming home until to-morrow. I expect to spend the night +there, and in the morning go overland to see the Stickles and take those +good things you have been making for the sick man. You will need Dan to +stay with you." + +"No, I shall be all right. Vivien Nelson has asked me to go there +to-night, so I shall get along nicely." + +"Very well, dear," her father replied. "You are just like your mother, +always planning for someone else, and planning so well, too." + +Dan's heart thrilled with pride and delight as he sat by Parson John's +side and watched Midnight swinging along at her usual steady jog when +there was no special hurry. So intent was the one upon watching the horse, +and the other upon his sermon, that neither noticed a man driving a +spirited horse dart out from behind a sharp point on the left, and cut +straight across the river. It was old Tim Fraser, as big a rogue as +existed anywhere in the land. He was very fond of horses, and that winter +had purchased a new flier. He was an incessant boaster, and one day swore +that he could out-travel anything on the river, Midnight included. He laid +a wager to that effect, which was taken up by Dave Morehouse, who imagined +the race would never come off, for Mr. Westmore would have nothing to do +with such sport. Old Fraser, therefore, set about to meet Parson John, but +for some time had failed to make connection. Hearing about the funeral, he +was determined that the race should come off that very Sunday, and in the +presence of the mourners and their friends at that. He accordingly hid +behind Break-Neck Point, and with delight watched the parson drive up the +river, and at the right moment he started forth for the fray. As Fraser +swung into line and was about to pass, Midnight gave a great bound +forward, and it was all that Parson John could do to hold her in check, +for she danced and strained at the reins as her rival sped on ahead. At +length Fraser slowed down, dropped behind, and, just when Midnight had +steadied down, up he clattered again. This he did three times in quick +succession, causing Midnight to quiver with excitement, and madly to champ +the bit. At length the climax was reached, for the noble beast, hearing +again the thud of her opponent's hoofs, became completely unmanageable. +With a snort of excitement she laid low her head, took the bit firmly +between her teeth, and started up the river like a whirlwind. The more +Parson John shouted and tugged at the reins the more determined she +became. The ice fairly flew from beneath her feet, and the trailing froth +flecked her black hide like driving snow. Neck and neck the horses raced +for some time, while Fraser grinned with delight at the success of his +scheme. + +Before long the funeral procession came into view, making for the little +church near the graveyard on the opposite shore. Parson John was feeling +most keenly the position in which he was so unfortunately placed. He could +see only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to leave Fraser +behind. Therefore, before the first sleigh of the funeral procession was +reached he gave Midnight the reins, and thus no longer restrained she drew +gradually away from her opponent. On she flew, past the staring, gaping +people, and for a mile beyond the church. + +By this time Fraser was so far in the rear that he gave up the race. +Beaten and crestfallen he turned to the left, made for the shore and +disappeared. + +At length Parson John was able to bring Midnight under control, when she +trotted quietly down the river with a triumphant gleam in her handsome +eyes. After the funeral had been conducted, a group at once surrounded the +parson and questioned him concerning the strange occurrence on the river. +Some were pleased with Fraser's ignominious defeat, and treated it as a +huge joke. But others were sorely scandalized. What would the members of +the other church in Glendow say when they heard of it? To think that their +clergyman should be racing on the river, and on a Sunday, too, while on +his way to attend a funeral--the most solemn of all occasions! + +"Well, you see," continued the parson, after he had explained the +circumstance, "Fraser is a hard man to deal with, and in some ways I am +really glad it happened as it did." + +"Why, what do you mean?" gasped several of the most rigid. + +"It's just this way," and a twinkle shone in the parson's eyes. "Five and +thirty years have I served in the sacred ministry of our Church. During +the whole of that time I have endeavoured to do my duty. I have faced the +devil on many occasions, and trust that in the encounters I did no +discredit to my calling. I have tried never to let him get ahead of me, +and I am very thankful he didn't do it this afternoon with Tim Fraser's +fast horse." + + * * * * * + +Parson John had won the day, and the group dispersed, chuckling with +delight, and anxious to pass on the yarn to others. + +That same evening Mr. Westmore was seated comfortably in Jim Rickhart's +cosy sitting-room. The family gathered around in anticipation of a +pleasant chat, for the rector was a good talker, and his visit was always +an occasion of considerable interest. A few neighbours had dropped in to +hear the news of the parish, and the latest tidings from the world at +large. They had not been seated long ere a loud rap sounded upon the door, +and when it was opened, a man encased in a heavy coat entered. + +"Is Parson John here?" were his first words. + +"Yes," Mr. Rickhart replied. "He's in the sitting-room. Do you want to see +him? Is it a wedding, Sam? You look excited." + +"Should say not. It's more like a funeral. Old Tim Fraser's met with a bad +accident." + +"What!" + +"Yes. He was drivin' home from the river this afternoon, when that new +horse of his shied, and then bolted. The sleigh gave a nasty slew on the +icy road, and upset. Tim was caught somehow, and dragged quite a piece. +He's badly broken up, and wants to see the parson." + +By this time Mr. Westmore had crossed the room, and stood before the +messenger. A startled look was in his eyes, as he peered keenly into Sam's +face. + +"Tell me, is it true what I hear," he questioned, "that Fraser has been +hurt?" + +"Yes, sir, and wants you at once." + +"Is he seriously injured?" + +"Can't tell. They're goin' fer the doctor, but it'll be some time before +he can get there. It's a long way." + +"Poor Fraser! Poor Fraser!" murmured the parson. "He was a careless man. I +was bitter at him this afternoon, and now he is lying there. Quick, Dan, +get on your coat and hat; we must be off at once." + +It did not take them long to make ready, and soon Midnight was speeding +through the darkness. This time it was no leisurely jog, but the pace she +well knew how to set when her master was forth on important business. +Across the river she sped, then over hill and valley, which echoed with +the merry jingle of the bells. For some time Parson John did not speak, +and seemed to be intent solely upon Midnight. + +"Dan," he remarked at length, as they wound slowly up a steep hill, "it's +a mean thing, isn't it, to get many, many good things from someone, and +never do anything in return, and not even to say 'Thank you?'" + +The lad started at these words, and but for the darkness a flush would +have been seen upon his face. "What does the parson mean?" he thought. +"That was about what Farrington said. To get, and give nothing in return; +to be a sucker and a sponger." + +But the parson needed no reply. He did not even notice Dan's silence. + +"Yes," he continued; "it's a mean thing. But that's just what Tim Fraser's +been doing all his life. The good Lord has given him so many blessings of +health, home, fine wife and children, and notwithstanding all these +blessings, he's been ever against Him. He curses and swears, laughs at +religion, and you saw what he did this afternoon." + +"'Tis mean, awful mean," Dan replied, as the parson paused, and flicked +the snow with his whip. "But maybe he's sorry, now, that he's hurt." + +"Maybe he is, Dan. But it's a mean thing to give the best of life to +Satan, and to give the dregs, the last few days, when the body is too weak +to do anything, to the Lord. And yet I find that is so often done, and I'm +afraid it's the case now." + +When they reached Fraser's house they found great excitement within. Men +and women were moving about the kitchen and sitting-room trying to help, +and yet always getting into one another's way. Midnight was taken to the +barn, Dan was led into the kitchen to get warm, while the parson went at +once to the room where Tim was lying. + +Dan shrank back in a corner, for he felt much abashed at the sight of so +many strangers. He wanted to be alone--to think about what the parson had +said coming along the road. And so Fraser was a sponger, and a sucker too, +getting so many good things and giving nothing back. It was mean, and yet +what was he himself but a sponger? What was he doing for Nellie and Parson +John for what they were doing for him? They gave him a comfortable home, +fed, clothed, and taught him, and he was doing nothing to pay them back. +How disgusted his father would be if he only knew about it. + +For the life of him Dan could not have expressed these feelings to anyone. +He only knew that they ran through his mind like lightning, making him +feel very miserable. His cheeks flushed, and a slight sigh escaped his +lips as he sat crouched there in the corner with one small hand supporting +his chin. No one heeded him, for all were too much excited over the +accident to take any notice of a little boy. + +"I said that horse would be the death of him," he heard a woman exclaim. +"Tim's too old a man to drive such a beast as that." + +"Oh, the beast's all right," an old man slowly replied, "but it was put to +a wrong use, that's where the trouble came." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"Don't you know? Didn't you hear about what happened on the river this +afternoon? Tim went there on purpose to meet the parson, and strike up a +race. He's been boasting for some time that he would do it. The Lord has +given that man much rope, and has suffered him long. But this was too +much, and He's tripped him up at last." + +"Peter Brown," and the woman held up her hands in astonishment, "how can +you say such a thing about your old neighbour, and in his house, too, with +him lying there in that condition?" + +"I'm only saying what the rest know and think," was the calm reply. "I've +told Tim time and time again right to his face that the Lord would settle +with him some day. 'Tim,' said I, and it was not later than last fall that +I said it, 'Tim, the Lord has been good to you. He's blessed you in every +way. You've health, strength, and a good home. And what have you done for +Him? What have you given in return? Nothing. You curse, revile and scorn +Him on the slightest pretext. It's not only mean, Tim, but you'll get +punished some day, and don't you forget it.' But he only swore at me, and +told me to shut up and mind my own business and he would mind his. But my +words have come true, and I guess Tim sees it at last." + +Dan was sitting bolt upright now, with his hands clenched and eyes staring +hard at the speaker. The words had gone straight to his little heart, with +terrible, stinging intensity. This man was saying what Farrington and the +parson had said. It must be true. But the idea of the punishment was +something new. He had never thought of that before. + +And even as he looked, a silence spread throughout the room, for Parson +John was standing in the doorway. Upon his face an expression dwelt which +awed more than many words, and all at once realized that the venerable man +had just stepped from the solemn chamber of Death. + + + + +Chapter X + +In Camp. + + +Nestling snugly among large stately trees of pine and spruce, the little +log-cabin presented a picturesque appearance. Its one room, lighted by a +small window, served as kitchen, living and sleeping apartments combined. +It was warm, for the rough logs were well chinked with moss, while the +snow lay thick upon the roof and banked up around the sides. This cabin +had been recently built, and stood there by the little brook as an outward +and visible sign of an inward change in the heart and mind of one of +Glendow's sturdy sons. + +The night Stephen Frenelle left Nellie at the Rectory after the drive home +from the dance, he had fought one of those stern, fierce battles which +must come to all at some time in life. As Jacob of old wrestled all night +long for the mastery, so did Stephen in the silence of his own room. Sleep +fled his eyes as he paced up and down, struggling with the contending +thoughts which filled his heart. At times he clenched his hands and ground +his teeth together as he pictured Dick Farrington standing in the Hall, +hurling forth his taunting remarks. Then he longed for daylight to come +that he might go to his house, call him forth, and give him the thrashing +he so well deserved. He would drive that impudent, sarcastic smile from +his face, and make him take back his words. A voice seemed to say to him, +"Do it. _You must_ do it if you consider yourself a man. He insulted +you to your face, and people will call you a coward if you allow it to +pass." But always there came to him that gentle touch on his arm; he heard +a voice pleading with him to be a man, and saw Nellie looking at him with +those large, beseeching eyes, and his clenched hands would relax. And thus +the battle raged; now this way, now that. Which side would win? When at +length the first streak of dawn was breaking far off in the eastern sky, +and Stephen came forth from the Chamber of Decision, there was no doubt as +to the outcome of the fight. His face bore the marks of the struggle, but +it also shone with a new light. When his mother and Nora came downstairs +they were astonished to see him up so early, the fire in the kitchen stove +burning brightly, and the cattle and sheep fed. Usually Stephen was hard +to arouse in the morning, and it was nearly noon before the chores were +finished, and then always in a half-hearted way. They looked at each +other, and wondered at the change which had taken place. + +Although Stephen had won a victory over himself, he was yet much puzzled. +He wished to redeem the homestead, but how should he set about the task? +As he waited that morning while breakfast was being prepared, this was the +great thought uppermost in his mind. He knew that when spring came there +was the farm to work. In the meantime, however, during the days of winter +when the ground was covered with snow, what could he do? Once aroused, it +was needful for him to set to work as soon as possible. Mechanically he +picked up the weekly paper lying on a chair and glanced carelessly at the +headlines set forth in bold type. As he did so his attention was arrested +by two words "Logs Wanted." He read the article through which told how the +price of lumber had suddenly advanced, and that logs were in great demand. +When Stephen laid down the paper and went into breakfast, the puzzle had +been solved. What about that heavy timber at the rear of their farm? No +axe had as yet rung there, no fire had devastated the place, and the trees +stood tall and straight in majestic grandeur. A brook flowed near which +would bear the logs down the river. + +His mother's and sister's hearts bounded with joy as Stephen unfolded to +them his plan. He would hire two choppers; one could go home at night, +while the other, old Henry, could live with him in the little camp he +would build. They would chop while he hauled the logs to the brook. Mrs. +Frenelle and Nora would do most of the cooking at home, and Stephen, would +come for it at certain times. Thus a new spirit pervaded the house that +day, and Mrs. Frenelle's heart was lighter than it had been for many +months. Stephen did not tell her the cause of this sudden change, but with +a loving mother's perception she felt that Nellie's gentle influence had +much to do with it all. + +One week later the cabin was built, the forest ringing with the sturdy +blows of axes and the resounding crash of some hoary pine or spruce. +Although the work was heavy, Stephen's heart was light. Not only did he +feel the zest of one who had grappled with life in the noble effort to do +the best be could, but he had Nellie's approbation. He drank in the +bracing air of the open as never before, and revelled in the rich perfume +of the various trees as he moved along their great cathedral-like aisles, +carpeted with the whitest of snow. + +The two choppers were kept busy from morning dawn to sunset. They were +skilled craftsmen, trained from early days in woodland lore. One, old +Henry, thoroughly enjoyed his work and at times snatches of a familiar +song fell from his lips as his axe bit deep into the side of some large +tree. + +"You did that well, Henry," Stephen one day remarked, as he watched a +monster spruce wing its way to earth with a terrific crash. + +"It's all in knowin' how," was the deliberate reply, as the old man began +to trim the prostrate form. "Now, a greenhorn 'ud rush in, an' hack an' +chop any old way, an' afore he knew what he was doin' the tree 'ud be +tumblin' down in the wrong place, an' mebbe right a-top of 'im at that. +But I size things up a bit afore I hit a clip. Havin' made up me mind as +to the best spot to fell her, I swing to, an' whar I pint her thar she +goes; that's all thar is about it." + +"But doesn't the wind bother you sometimes?" Stephen inquired. + +The chopper walked deliberately to the butt-end of the tree, and with the +pole of his axe marked off the length of the log. Then he moistened his +hands and drove the keen blade through the juicy bark deep into the wood. + +"I allow fer the wind, laddie," he replied, "I allow fer that. When the +good Lord sends the wind, sometimes from the North, sometimes from the +South, I don't go agin it. Why, what's the use of goin' agin His will, an' +it's all the same whether yer choppin' down a tree, or runnin' across the +sea of Life fer the great Port beyon'. That's what the parson says, an' I +guess he knows, though it seems to me that the poor man hisself has +head-winds aplenty jist now." + +Stephen asked no more questions then, being too busy. But that night, +after supper, as the old man was mending his mittens he sat down by his +side. + +"Henry," he began, "how is it that the parson has head-winds? Do you think +it's the Lord's will?" + +"'Tain't the Lord's will, laddie," was the slow response. "Oh no, 'tain't +His." + +"Whose, then?" + +"It's the devil's, that's whose it is, an' he's usin' sartin men in +Glendow as human bellows to blow his vile wind aginst that man of God. +That's what he's doin', an' they can't see it nohow." + +"And so you think the parson had nothing to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. +You think he is innocent?" + +"Think it, laddie? Think it? What's the use of thinkin' it when I know it. +Haven't I known Parson John fer forty years now. Can't I well remember +when his hair, which is now so white, was as black as the raven's wing. +An' why did it become white? I ax ye that. It's not old age which done it, +ah no. It's care an' work fer the people of Glendow, that's what's done +it. D'ye think I'd believe any yarn about a man that's been mor'n a father +to me an' my family? Didn't I see 'im kneelin' by my little Bennie's bed, +twenty years ago come next June, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks as +he axed the Good Lord to spare the little lad to us a while longer. Mark +my word, Stevie, them people who are tellin' sich stories about that man +'ill come to no good. Doesn't the Lord say in his great Book, 'Touch not +Mine anointed, an' do My prophets no harm?' My old woman often reads them +words to me, fer she's a fine scholar is Marthy. 'Henry,' says she, 'the +parson is the Lord's anointed. He's sot aside fer a holy work, an' it's a +risky bizness to interfere with eich a man.'" + +Scarcely had the speaker finished when the door of the cabin was pushed +suddenly open, and a queer little man entered. A fur cap was pulled down +over his ears, while across his left shoulder and fastened around his body +several times was a new half-inch rope. + +"Hello, Pete," Stephen exclaimed, "You look cold. Come to the stove and +get warm." + +"Y'bet I'm cold," was the reply. "My fingers and nose are most froze." + +"What's brought you away out here this time of the night?" questioned +Stephen, "I thought you liked the store too well to travel this far from +the fire." + +"Bizness, Steve, bizness," and the man rubbed his hands together, at the +same time taking a good survey of the cabin. + +"You look as if you were going to hang yourself, Pete, with all that rope +about your body. Surely you're not tired of living yet." + +"No, no, Steve. Not on your life. There'd be no fun in that, an' it's fun +I'm after this time." + +"But I thought you said you were out on business, and now you say it's +fun." + +"Bizness an' fun, me boy. Bizness an' fun; that's my motto. My bizness +this time is to pinch the Stickles' cow, an' the fun 'ill be to hear +Stickles, Mrs. Stickles an' the little Stickles squeal. Ha, ha! Bizness +an' fun, Steve. Bizness an' fun." + +"What! You're not going to take away the only cow the Stickles have left?" +cried Stephen in amazement. + +"Sure. It's the boss's orders, an' he doesn't mean fun, either. Nuthin' +but bizness with 'im; ah no, nuthin' but bizness." + +"Farrington is a mean rascal!" and Stephen leaped to his feet, his fists +clenched and his eyes flashing. "Hasn't he any heart at all? To think of +him taking the only cow from a poor family when the husband is sick in +bed! What does the man mean?" + +"Don't git excited, me boy. It's only bizness, boss sez, only bizness. The +heart has nuthin' to do with that." + +"Business be blowed! It's vile meanness, that's what it is! And will you +help him out with such work?" + +"It's bizness agin, Steve. I've got to live, an' keep the missus an' +kiddies. What else is there fer a feller to do?" + +"But why is Farrington taking the cow in the winter time, Pete? Why +doesn't he wait until the summer, and give the Stickles a chance?" + +"It all on account of a woman's tongue. That's what's the trouble." + +"A woman's tongue?" + +"Yes, a woman's tongue, an' ye know it's Mrs. Stickles' without me tellin' +ye. She told Tommy Jones, wot told Betty Sharp, wot told the boss, that +she was mighty glad the parson beat 'im at the auction. So the boss got +mad as blazes, an' has sent me fer the cow to pay what the Stickles owe +'im. That's all I know about it, lad, so good-bye to yez both, fer I must +be off. I'm to stay the night at Tommy Jones', an' in the mornin' will go +from there fer the cow. Bizness an' fun, Steve; bizness an' fun; don't +fergit that," and the little old man went off chuckling in high glee. + + + + +Chapter XI + +Guarding the Flock + + +It was nearing the noon hour, and the sun slanting through the forest +lifted into bold relief the trailing shadows of the stately trees. A +lively chickadee was cheeping from a tall spruce, and a bold camp-robber +was hopping in front of the cabin door picking up morsels of food which +were occasionally cast forth. Stephen was preparing dinner, and the +appetizing smell drifted out upon the air. Not far away, perched upon the +branch of a tree, a sleek squirrel was filling the air with his noisy +chattering and scolding. His bright little eyes sparkled with anger at the +big strange intruder into his domain, causing him to pour forth all the +vitriol of the squirrel vocabulary. Suddenly his noisy commotion ceased, +and he lifted his head in a listening attitude. Presently down the trail +leading to the main highway the sound of bells could be distinctly heard. +As they drew nearer their music filled the air, reverberating from hill to +hill and pulsing among the countless reaches of the great sombre forest. +Not a child in the parish of Glendow but knew that familiar sound, and +would rush eagerly into the house with the welcome tidings, for did it not +mean a piece of candy hidden away in most mysterious pockets, which seemed +never to be empty? How often in the deep of night tired sleepers in some +lonely farm-house had been awakened by their merry jingle, and in the +morning husband and wife would discuss the matter and wonder what sick +person Parson John had been visiting. + +The bells grew more distinct now and brought Stephen to the door. Soon +Midnight appeared swinging around a bend in the trail, with her fine neck +proudly arched, ears pointed forward, and her large eyes keen with +expectancy. The squirrel scurried away in a rage; the chickadee hopped to +a safe retreat, and even the saucy camp-robber considered it wise to flap +lazily to the top of the cabin. + +"I'm glad to see you, Stephen," was Parson John's hearty greeting as he +held out his hand. "Dan and I are on our way to visit the Stickles, and +called in to see you in passing. What a snug place you have built here. I +trust you are getting along nicely." + +"Better than I expected," was the reply. "But, say, Parson, you're just in +time for dinner. Let me put Midnight in the barn. She won't object, at any +rate." + +"What! is it that late?" and the worthy man glanced at the sun. "Dear me, +how the time does fly! Well, then, if we will not be in the way I shall +enjoy it very much, for it has been many a day since I have dined in the +woods. But, wait," he cried, as Stephen was leading Midnight to the +stable, "There's a basket of stuff, some pies, and I don't know what else, +in the sleigh for hardy woodsmen, with Nellie's compliments. No, no, not +that basket. It's for the Stickles. The smaller one; I think you'll find +it in the back of the sleigh. There, that's it, with the green handle. It +takes a large basket for all the little Stickles!" and the parson gave a +hearty laugh. + +What a dinner they had in the little cabin that day. Never did meat taste +so good, and never did pie have such a delicious flavour as that which +Nellie had made. The table and stools were rough, the food served on +coarse dishes, and each one helped himself. But what did it matter? Their +appetites were keen and the parson a most entertaining visitor. He told +about the race on the river the day before, and of Tim Fraser's accident +and sudden death, to which the choppers listened with almost breathless +interest, at times giving vent to ejaculations of surprise. + +"I'm sorry we have no milk to offer you," laughed Stephen, passing the +parson a cup of black tea. "But at any minute now a cow may be passing +this way and we might be able to obtain some." + +"A cow passing! I don't understand," and Mr. Westmore stirred the sugar in +his tea. + +"Yes. The Stickles are losing their only cow. Farrington has sent Pete +after her, and he should be along by this time." + +"Stephen," and Parson John's face changed from its genial expression to +one of severity, "do I understand you aright? Do you mean to tell me that +Farrington is taking the Stickles' only cow?" + +"Yes, I'm not joking. It's the solid truth. Pete stopped here on his way +out last night, and told us all about it." + +"Dear me! dear me!" sighed the parson, placing his hand to his head. "When +will that man cease to be a thorn in the flesh? The Stickles are as honest +as the sun, and Farrington knows it. This business must be stopped. Dan +will you please bring out Midnight. We must hurry away at once." + +Soon the little cabin was left behind and they were swinging out along the +trail. The parson was quiet now. His old jocular spirit had departed, +leaving him very thoughtful. + +"The poor people! The poor people!" he ejaculated. "When will such things +cease? Why will men dressed in a little brief authority try to crush those +less fortunate? Dan, my boy, you may be a big man some day. You may get +money, but never forget the poor. Be kind to them rather than to the +powerful. They need kindness and sympathy, lad, more than others. My +parents were poor, and I know how they toiled and slaved to give me an +education. I well remember how they worked early and late until their +fingers were knotted and their backs bowed. They are the noble ones who +live in our midst, and though they may have little of this world's goods, +they have great souls and are the real salt of the earth. Never forget +that, boy." + +Dan did not know how to reply to these words, but sat very still watching +Midnight speeding on her way. The road wound for some distance through a +wooded region and over several hills. At length it entered upon a +settlement where the land was lean and rocks lifted their frowning heads +above the surface. The few houses were poor, standing out grey and gaunt +in the midst of this weird barrenness. But at every door Midnight was +accustomed to stop. Well did she know the little voices which welcomed +her, and the tiny hands which stroked her soft nose, or held up some +dainty morsel of bread, potatoes or grass. But to-day there was none of +this. She knew when the reins throbbed with an energy which meant hurry. +Past the gateways she clipped with those long steady strides over the icy +road, across a bleak stretch of country, down a valley, up a winding hill, +and then away to the right through a long narrow lane to a lone +farm-house. + +As they approached a commotion was observed near the barn. Soon the cause +was clearly manifest. Pete, assisted by someone, who proved to be Tommy +Jones, had his rope about the horns of a black and white cow, and was +endeavouring to lead her away. Mrs. Stickles and four little Stickles were +filling the air with their cries of anger and protest. The cow, frightened +by the noise, had become confused, and was trying to bolt towards the +barn. Pete was tugging at the rope, while his assistant was belabouring +her with a stout stick. + +"Ye brutes!" Mrs. Stickles was shouting at the top of her voice. "What +d'yez mean by thumpin' me poor Pansy in that way! But here comes the +Lord's avengin' angel, praise His holy name! Stop 'em, Parson!" she +shrieked, rushing towards the sleigh. "Smite 'em down, Parson, an' pray +the Lord to turn His hottest thunderbolt upon Si Farrington's head!" + +"Hush, hush, woman," Mr. Westmore remonstrated. "Don't talk that way. +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay.'" + +By this time the refractory cow had been brought to a state of partial +subjection, and stood blinking at her captors as if uncertain what course +to pursue. Leaving the sleigh, Mr. Westmore strode over to where the three +were standing and laid his hand upon the rope. + +"What's the meaning of this, Pete?" he asked. "Why are you troubling this +family?" + +"It's them that's troublin' me, sir," was the reply. "I'm jist here on +bizness, an' it's bizness I mean. If ye'll jist keep that whirlwind of a +woman away an' them squaking kids so I kin git this cratur clear of the +barn-yard, she'll walk like a daisy." + +"But why are you taking the animal? Don't you know it's their only cow, +and it's very important that Mr. Stickles, who is sick in bed, should have +fresh milk every day?" + +"That's not my bizness, Parson. My bizness is to git the cow; so stand +clear if ye please, fer I want to git away. I'm late as 'tis." + +"Hold a minute, Pete," and the parson laid a firmer hand upon the rope. +"Who sent you here after this cow?" + +"The boss, of course." + +"Mr. Farrington?" + +"Sure." + +"And he wants the cow in payment of a debt, does he?" + +"Guess so. But that ain't none of my bizness. My bizness is to git the +cow." + +"How much is the debt, anyway?" the parson asked, turning to Mrs. +Stickles, who was standing near with arms akimbo. + +"Twenty dollars, sir. No mor'n twenty dollars. Not one cent more, an' +Tony'll pay every cent when he comes from the woods." + +"Well, then, Pete," and the parson turned towards the latter, "unfasten +this cow, and go back to your master. Tell him that I will be responsible +for the debt, and that he shall have the full amount as soon as I get +home." + +But Pete shook his head, and began to gather up the loose end of the rope +into a little coil in his left hand. + +"That ain't the 'boss's order, sir. 'Fetch her, Pete,' sez he, 'an' let +nuthin' stop ye. If they hev the money to pay, don't take it. The cow's of +more value to me than money.' Them's his very orders." + +"Oh, I see, I see," Mr. Westmore remarked, as a stern look crossed his +face, and his eyes flashed with indignation. "It's not the money your +master wants, but only the pound of flesh." + +"Boss didn't say nuthin' 'bout any pound of flesh. He only said 'the cow,' +an' the cow he'll git if Pete Davis knows anything." + +Quick as a flash Parson John's hand dove deep into his capacious pocket. +He whipped out a clasp-knife, opened it, and with one vigorous stroke +severed the rope about one foot from the cow's head. + +"There!" he cried to the staring, gaping Pete. "Take that rope to your +master, and tell him what I have done. Leave the matter to me. I alone +will be responsible for this deed." + +The appearance of Mr. Westmore at this moment was enough to awe even the +most careless. His gigantic form was drawn to its fullest height. His +flashing eyes, turned full upon Pete's face, caused that obsequious menial +to fall back a step or two. Even a blow from the parson's clenched fist +just then would not have been a surprise. His spirit at this moment was +that of the prophets of old, and even of the Great Master Himself, +upholding justice and defending the cause of the poor and down-trodden. + +For an instant only they faced each other. Then, Pete's eyes dropped as +the eyes of an abashed dog before his master. He stooped for the rope, +which had fallen to the ground, and slowly gathered it into a little coil. +But still he maintained his ground. + +"Are you going?" demanded the parson. + +"Yes," came the surly response. "I'm goin', but remember you hev +interfered with Si Farrington's lawful bizness, so beware! I'll go an' +tell 'im what ye say. Oh, yes, I'll go, but you'll hear from 'im again. +Oh, yes, ye'll hear." + +"Let 'im come 'imself next time fer the cow," spoke up Mrs. Stickles, who +had been silently watching the proceedings. "I'd like fer 'im to come. I'd +like to git me fingers into his hair an' across his nasty, scrawny face. +That's what I'd like to do." + +"Hold yer tongue!" shouted Pete, "an'----" + +"There now, no more of that," commanded Mr. Westmore. "We've had too many +words already, so take yourself off." + +They watched him as he moved down the lane to the road. He was followed by +Tommy Jones, who had stood through it all with mouth wide open, and eyes +staring with astonishment. When they were at length clear of the place the +parson gave a sigh of relief, and across his face flitted a smile--like +sunshine after storm. + + + + +Chapter XII + +Light and Shadow + + +Upon entering the house Mr. Westmore divested himself of his great-coat, +and stood warming himself by the kitchen fire, while Mrs. Stickles bustled +around, smoothing down the bedclothes and putting the room to rights in +which her sick husband lay. The kitchen floor was as white as human hands +could make it, and the stove shone like polished ebony. Upon this a kettle +steamed, while underneath a sleek Maltese cat was curled, softly purring +in calm content. + +Dan, assisted by the little Stickles, stabled Midnight, after which he was +conducted over to the back of the barn to enjoy the pleasure of coasting +down an icy grade. The only sound, therefore, was Mrs. Stickles' voice in +the next room as she related to "her man" the wonderful events which had +just taken place. A slight smile of pleasure crossed the parson's face as +he listened to her words and thought of the big honest heart beneath that +marvellous tongue. The sun of the winter day was streaming through the +little window and falling athwart the foot of the bed as Mr. Westmore +entered the room and grasped the sick man's white, outstretched hand. + +"God bless ye, sir," exclaimed Mr. Stickles, "fer what ye hev done fer me +an' mine to-day. It ain't the first time by a long chalk. The Lord will +reward ye, even if I can't." + +"Tut, tut, man, don't mention it," Mr. Westmore replied as he took a seat +by the bed. "And how are you feeling to-day, Mr. Stickles?" + +"Only middlin', Parson, only middlin'. Simply joggin', simply joggin'." + +Mrs. Stickles seated herself in a splint-bottomed chair, and picked up her +knitting which had been hurriedly dropped upon the arrival of Pete Davis. +How her fingers did work! It was wonderful to watch them. How hard and +worn they were, and yet so nimble. The needles flew with lightning +rapidity, clicking against one another with a rhythmical cadence; the +music of humble, consecrated work. But when Mr. Westmore began to tell +about Tim Fraser, and his sudden death, the knitting dropped into her lap, +and she stared at the speaker with open-eyed astonishment. + +"An' do ye mean to tell me," she exclaimed, when the parson had finished, +"that Tim Fraser is dead?" + +"Yes, it's only too true, Mrs. Stickles. Poor man--poor man!" + +"Ye may well call 'im poor, Parson, fer I'm thinkin' that's jist what he +is at this blessed minute. He's in a bad way now, I reckon." + +"Hush, hush, Marthy," her husband remonstrated. "We must not judge too +harshly." + +"I'm not, John, I'm not, an' the parson knows I'm not. But if Tim isn't +sizzlin', then the Bible's clean wrong," and the needles clicked harder +than ever. + +"It teaches us the uncertainty of life," replied Mr. Westmore. "It shows +how a man with great strength, and health can be stricken down in an +instant. How important it is to be always ready when the call does come." + +"Ye're right, Parson, ye're surely right," and Mrs. Stickles stopped to +count her stitches. "Wasn't John an' me talkin' about that only last +night. I was readin' the Bible to 'im, an' had come to that story about +poor old Samson, an' his hard luck." + +"'It's very strange,' sez John, sez he to me, 'that when Samson lost his +hair he lost his great strength, too. I can't unnerstan' it nohow.'" + +"'Why, that's simple enough,' sez I to 'im. 'The Lord when He let Samson's +strength rest in his hair jist wanted to teach 'im how unsartin a thing +strength is. 'Why, anyone can cut off yer hair,' sez I, 'an' ye know, +John,' sez I, 'ye don't allus have to cut it off, either, fer it falls out +like yourn, John--fer yer almost bald.' Ain't them the exact words I said, +John, an' only last night at that?" + +"Yes, Marthy. That's just what ye said, an' we see how true it is. Tim +Fraser was a powerful man as fer as strength an' health goes, but what did +it all amount to? He lost it as quick as Samson of old. Ah, yes, a man's a +mighty weak thing, an' his strength very unsartin, an' hangs by a slender +thread. Look at me, parson. Once I was able to stan' almost anything, an' +here I be a useless log--a burden to meself an' family." + +"Don't say that, John, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Stickles wiping her eyes +with her apron. "Ye know ye ain't a bother. Yer as patient as a fly in +molasses. The fly is thar an' can't help it, an' so are you, John. It's +the Lord's will, an' ye've often said so. He'll look after me an' the +little ones. He's never forsaken us yit, an' I guess He won't if we stick +to 'im." + +"Your children are certainly a credit to you, Mrs. Stickles," remarked Mr. +Westmore. "You should be proud of them." + +"I am, sir, indeed I am," and the worthy woman's face beamed with +pleasure. "But it takes a lot of 'scretion, Parson, to handle a big +family. I've often said to John that children are like postage-stamps. +They've got to be licked sometimes to do the work they were intended to +do. But if ye lick 'em too much, ye spile 'em. Oh, yes, it takes great +'scretion to bring up a family." + +"You certainly have used great discretion," replied Parson John, much +amused at Mrs. Stickles' words. "I suppose those who are working out are +just as dear as the four little ones at home?" + +"They're all dear to me, sir, all dear. I kin count 'em all on me ten +fingers, no more an' no less. Now some fingers are larger than t'others, +and some smaller, an' some more useful than t'others an' do more work, but +I couldn't part with one. So as I often tell John our children are jist +like me ten fingers. I couldn't do without one of 'em--ah, no, bless their +dear hearts." + +The sound of little feet and childish voices caused them to look towards +the kitchen. There they beheld the four little Stickles, with Dan in the +midst, standing in a row by the stove. + +"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the parson, rising and going towards them. "So here +you are, as fresh and active as ever." + +Diving deep into his pocket he brought forth a generous piece of home-made +candy. + +"Sweets for the sweet," he cried. "Now, who's to have this?" + +At once a rush ensued and four little forms surrounded him. + +"Wait, wait; not yet!" and the good man held the candy aloft. "Nothing +given away here. You must earn every bit. All in a row now. There, that's +better," and he lined them up, like a veteran schoolmaster, proud of his +little class. "Come, I want your names. You begin," and he tapped the +nearest to him on the shoulder. + +"John Medley Stickles, sir," came the quick reply. + +"A good name, my little man," and the parson patted him on the head. "May +you be worthy of your namesake, that noble man of God--the first Bishop of +this Diocese. Now next," and he pointed to the second little Stickles. + +"Benjamin Alexander Stickles, sir," + +"Ha, ha. Named after your two grandfathers. Fine men they were, too. Now +my little maiden, we'll hear from you." + +"Martha Trumpit Stickles, sir," came the shy response. + +"That's a good name, my dear, after your mother--and with her eyes, too. +Just one more left. Come, my dear, what have you to say?" + +"Ruth Wethmore Stickles, thir, if you pleath," lisped the little lass, +with her eyes upon the floor. + +At these words the parson paused, as if uncertain what to say. "Ruth, the +gleaner," he at length slowly remarked. "Ruth Westmore. Ah, Mrs. Stickles, +I little thought that day my dear wife stood sponsor for your baby here, +and gave her her own name, how soon she would be taken from us. Four +years--four long years since she went home. But come, but come," he +hurriedly continued, noticing Mrs. Stickles about to place her apron to +her eyes. "I have a question to ask each little one here, and then +something is coming. Look, John, answer me, quick. How many Commandments +are there?" + +"Ten, sir," came the ready reply. + +"What is the fifth one?" + +"Honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which +the Lord thy God giveth thee." + +"That's good, that's good. Don't forget that, my little man. The first +commandment with promise. I taught your brother Tony that when he was a +little lad, and I'm sure he hasn't forgotten it. Now, Bennie, what two +things do we learn from these commandments?" + +"My duty towards God, an' my duty towards my neighbour." + +"Right, right you are. Now, Martha, what were you made at your baptism?" + +"A member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the Kingdom of +Heaven." + +"Well done. I thought that would stick you, but I see you have learned +your lesson well! It's Ruth's turn now. Can you tell me, my dear, what +happened on Good Friday?" + +"Jesus died, thir, on the Croth." + +"And what took place on Easter Day?" + +"He roth from the grave, thir." + +"Good, good. Always remember that. Good Friday and Easter Day come very +near together. 'Earth's saddest day and brightest day are just one day +apart.'" + +Mrs. Stickles' face beamed with pleasure as the parson praised the little +class, and gave a piece of candy to each. Then he drew from his pocket a +small package wrapped in white tissue paper tied with a piece of pink +ribbon, and held it up before the wondering eyes of the little Stickles. + +"From Nellie," he remarked. "Candy she made herself for the one who can +best say the verses on the Christian Year she gave you to learn some time +ago. Now, who can say them all through without one mistake?" + +Instantly four little hands shot up into the air, and four pairs of +sparkling eyes were fixed eagerly upon the coveted treasure. + +"Well, Bennie, we'll try you," said the parson. "Stand up straight, and +don't be afraid to speak out." + + "Advent tells us Christ is here, + Christmas tells us Christ is near--" + +"Hold, hold!" cried Mr. Westmore. "Try again." + +But the second attempt proving worse than the first, it was passed on to +Martha. Bravely the little maiden plunged into the intricacies of the two +first verses, but became a total wreck upon the third. Try as she might +the words would not come, and tears were in her eyes when at length she +gave up the attempt and waited for John Medley to conquer where she had +failed. But alas! though starting in bravely he mixed Epiphany and Advent +so hopelessly that the parson was forced to stop his wild wanderings. + +"Dear me! dear me!" Mr. Westmore exclaimed. "What are we to do? Surely +Ruth can do better than this." + +With hands clasped demurely before her and her eyes fixed upon the floor, +slowly the little maiden began to lisp forth the words while the rest +listened in almost breathless silence. + + "Advent telth uth Christ ith near; + Christmath telth uth Christ ith here; + In Epithany we trath + All the glory of Hith grath." + +Thus steadily on she lisped through verse after verse, and when the last +was completed a sigh of relief was heard from Mrs. Stickles, while the +parson clapped his hands with delight. How her eyes did sparkle as he +handed her the little package, with a few words of encouragement, and how +longingly the three others looked upon the treasure. + +"Now," said Mr. Westmore, "we must be away. Nellie will wonder what has +become of us." + +"Not yet, sir, not yet!" cried Mrs. Stickles. "You must have a cup of tea +first.' The water is bilin', an' it'll be ready in a jiffy. Did ye give +Midnight any hay?" she demanded, turning to Bennie. + +"Oh, ma!" came the reply. "I fergot all about it." + +"There now, it's jist like ye. Hurry off this minute and give that poor +critter some of that good hay from the nigh loft." + +As the little Stickles and Dan scurried out of the room, Ruth still +clutching her precious package, Mrs. Stickles turned to Mr. Westmore. + +"There now, Parson, ye jist must wait, an' have that cup of tea, an' some +of my fresh bread. We shan't tech Nellie's pies an' cake, cause ye kin hev +her cookin' any time, bless her dear heart. How I wish she was here +herself so I could look into her sweet face an' tell her meself how +grateful I am." + +Hardly had the parson seated himself at the table ere several piercing +shrieks fell upon his ears. Rushing to the door he beheld John Medley +hurrying towards the house with arms at right angles, and his face as pale +as death. + +"Child! Child! What is it?" shouted Mrs. Stickles. + +"R-r-uth's k-k-illed! She f-f-ell from the la-la-der. Oh! Oh!" + +Waiting to hear no more they hurried to the barn, and there they found the +little form lying on the floor, still grasping in her hand the precious +package. + +"My poor lamb! My darlin' baby! are ye kilt, are ye kilt?" wailed Mrs. +Stickles, kneeling down by her side. "Speak to me, my lamb, my little +baby! Oh, speak to yer mammy!" + +But no sign of recognition came from the prostrate child. Seeing this the +mother sprang to her feet and wrung her hands in agony of despair. + +"What will we do? Oh, what kin we do? My baby is kilt--my poor darlin'! +Oh--oh--oh!" + +Tenderly Parson John lifted the child in his arms, carried her into the +house, and laid her on the settle near the stove. It was found that she +was breathing, and soon a little water brought some color into her face. +Presently she opened her eyes, and started up, but fell back again, with a +cry of pain, fiercely clutching the package. + +"What is it, dear?" asked the parson. "Where is the pain?" + +"My leg! My leg!" moaned the child. + +"Ah, I feared so," exclaimed Mr. Westmore, after a brief examination. "We +must have the doctor at once. Is there anyone near who will go for him, +Mrs. Stickles?" + +"Not a man, sir, that's fit to go. They're all in the woods. Oh, what kin +we do!" + +"Don't worry, Mrs. Stickles," was the reassuring reply. "Midnight will go, +and I will hold the reins. Come, Dan, the horse, quick." + +As Midnight drew up to the door a few minutes later, Parson John came out +of the house and affectionately patted the sleek neck of the noble animal. + +"Remember, Midnight," he said, "you must do your best to-day. It's for the +sake of the little lass, and she was getting hay for you. Don't forget +that." + + + + +Chapter XIII + +For the Sake of a Child + + +Night had shut down over the land as Midnight, with her long, swinging +strides, clipped through the lighted streets of the prosperous little +railway town of Bradin, and drew up at old Doctor Leeds' snug house. A +fast express had just thundered shrieking by. A strong, cutting wind +racing in from the Northeast was tearing through the sinuous telegraph +wires with a buzzing sound, the weird prelude of a coming storm. + +The worthy doctor was at home, having only lately returned from a long +drive into the country. He and his wife, a kindly-faced little woman, were +just sitting down to their quiet meal. Seldom could they have an evening +together, for the doctor's field was a large one and his patients +numerous. + +"You have no engagement for to-night, I hope, Joseph," remarked his wife, +as she poured the tea. + +"No, dear," was the reply. "I expect to have one evening at home, and I'm +very glad of it, too. I'm weary to-night, and am longing for my arm-chair, +with my papers and pipe." + +A sharp knock upon the door aroused them, and great was their surprise to +see the venerable Rector of Glendow enter. + +"Parson John!" cried the doctor, rushing forward and grasping his old +friend's hand. "It's been months since I've seen you. What lucky event +brought you here to-night? Did you miss the train? If so, I'm glad. My +chessmen are moulding for want of use." + +But the parson shook his head and briefly told of the accident in the +barn. + +"And so the little lass is in trouble, hey? More worry for Mrs. Stickles." + +"And you will be able to go to-night, Doctor?" + +"Certainly. Sweepstakes hasn't been on the road for two days, and is keen +for a good run." + +"But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Leeds, "are you able to go? You have +been driving all day, and must be very tired. Why not rest a little +first?" + +"And let the poor child suffer that much longer! Not a bit of it." + +"I have heard doctors say," remarked the parson, as he and Dan sat down to +their supper, "that they get so hardened to suffering that at last it does +not affect them at all. I am glad it is not true with you." + +"The older I get," replied the doctor thoughtfully, stirring his tea, "the +more my heart aches at the pains and sufferings of others, especially in +little children. As soon as I hear of someone in distress I can never rest +until I reach his or her side. There always comes to me a voice urging me +to make haste. Even now I seem to hear that child calling to me. She is a +sweet, pretty lass, and how often have I patted her fair little head, and +to think of those blue eyes filled with tears, that tiny face drawn with +pain, and her whole body writhing in agony. However, you know all about +this, Parson, so what's the use of my talking." + +"But I am glad to hear you speak as you do, Doctor. Over thirty years have +I been in Glendow, and I become more affected by suffering the older I +get." + +The doctor looked keenly into Mr. Westmore's face, as if trying to read +his inmost thoughts. + +"Do you ever become weary of your work?" he at length asked. "Do you not +long for a more congenial field?" + +"I have often been asked that question, Doctor," the parson slowly +replied, "but not so much of late. I am getting old now, and young men are +needed, so I am somewhat forgotten. However, I am glad that this is so. +Years ago when a tempting offer came to me from some influential parish, +though I always refused, it disturbed me for days, until the matter was +finally settled. Now I do not have such distractions, and am quite happy. +In the quiet parish of Glendow I find all that the heart can desire. The +labour to me becomes no more monotonous than the work of parents with +their children. They often are weary in their toil for their little ones, +but not weary of it. The body gives out at times, but not the love in the +heart. And so I always find something new and fresh in my work which gives +such a relish to life. I have baptized most of the young people in this +parish, I have prepared them for Confirmation, given them their first +Communion, and in numerous cases have joined their hands in holy wedlock. +Some may long for a greater field and a wealthy congregation. But, +remember, as the sun in the heavens may be seen as clearly in the tiny +dewdrop as in the great ocean, so I can see the glory of the Father +shining in these humble parishioners of mine, especially so in the +children of tender years, as in the great intellects. As for travelling +abroad to see the world and its wonders, I find I can do it more +conveniently in my quiet study among my books. At a very small cost I can +wander to all parts of the world, without the dangers and inconveniences +of steamers and railroads. As to studying human nature, it is to be found +in any parish. Carlyle well said that 'any road, this simple Entepfuhl +road, will lead you to the end of the world,' and was it not the quaint +and humble-minded Thoreau who expressed himself in somewhat the same way: + + "'If with Fancy unfurled, + You leave your abode, + You may go round the world, + By the Marlboro road.'" + +The doctor rose from the table and grasped Mr. Westmore's hand. + +"Thank you for those words," he said. "I have thought of those very things +so often, and you have expressed my ideas exactly. I must now be away. You +will stay all night, for I wish to have a good chat with you upon my +return." + +"Thank you very much," the parson replied, "but we must be off as soon as +possible. My daughter is all alone and will be quite uneasy by my long +absence. We shall go home by the way of Flett's Corner, and thus save +three miles. But look, Doctor, don't send your bill to the Stickles. Send +it to me. Now be sure." + +"Tut, tut, man. Don't worry about the bills of others. Leave this matter +to me. The Stickles won't have any cause for anxiety about the bill, and +why should you? It's paid already." + +What a noble picture these two men presented as they stood there! Both had +grown old in a noble service for their fellow-men, and truly their grey +heads were beautiful crowns of glory. One had charge of the cure of souls, +the other of bodies, and yet there was no clashing. Each respected the +work of the other, and both were inspired with the high motive which lifts +any profession or occupation above the ordinary--the Christ-like motive of +love. + +Parson John remained for some time after the doctor had left, chatting +with Mrs. Leeds, and when at length Midnight started on her homeward way +it was quite late. They had not advanced far before the storm which had +been threatening swept upon them. Although the night was dark, the roadbed +was firm and Midnight surefooted. As they scudded forward the wind howled +through the trees and dashed the snow against their faces. They fled by +farm-houses and caught fleeting glimpses of the bright, cosy scenes +within. Twice they met belated teams plodding wearily homeward. Without +one touch of rein, or word of command, each time Midnight slowed down, +swerved to the left and swung by. It was only when the dim, dark forms of +the panting steeds loomed up for an instant on their right, and then +disappeared into the blackness, were they aware of their presence. +Occasionally the road wound for a mile or more through a wooded region, +and in such places they found peace and shelter. Here the wind could not +reach them, although they could hear its wild ravings in the tree-tops +above. The snow came softly, silently down, and, although they could not +see it falling, they could feel it flecking their faces and knew it was +weaving its mystic robe over their bodies. In one place such as this a +faint glimmer of light struggled through the darkness a short distance +from the road. + +"It's Stephen's cabin," the parson remarked. "It is a snug place on a +night like this. I wonder what he is doing now. I wish we had time to call +to give him a word of cheer." + +About two hundred yards beyond the cabin they left the main highway and +entered upon a lumber road. This latter was used in the winter time in +order to avoid a large hill on the former and the huge drifts which piled +from fence to fence. At first Midnight slowed down to a walk, but at +length, becoming a little impatient to get home, she broke into a gentle +trot. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the sleigh gave a great lurch, and +before a hand could be raised Dan found himself shooting over the parson +and falling headlong into the soft yielding snow. Recovering himself as +quickly as possible, and brushing the snow from his mouth, ears and eyes, +he groped around to ascertain what had happened. Away in the distance he +could hear a crashing sound as Midnight hurried along with the overturned +sleigh. Then all was still. He called and shouted, but received no reply. +A feeling of dread crept over him, and at once he started to walk back to +the road. He had advanced but a few steps, however, when he stumbled and +half fell over a form which he knew must be that of Parson John. He put +out his hand and felt his coat. Then he called, but all in vain. Hastily +fumbling in his pockets he drew forth several matches and tried to strike +a light. His little hands trembled as he did so, and time and time again a +draught blew out the tiny flame. In desperation he at length kneeled down +upon the snow, sheltered the match with his coat, and ere long had the +satisfaction of seeing the flame grow strong and steady. Carefully he held +it up and the small light illumined the darkness for the space of a few +feet around. Then it fell upon the prostrate form at his side. It touched +for an instant the old man's face, oh, so still and white, lying there in +the snow; and then an awful blackness. The light had gone out! + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The Long Night + + +As Dan stood there in the darkness with snow to his knees, clutching +between his fingers the extinguished match, the helplessness of his +position dawned upon him. What had happened to the parson he could easily +guess, for the place was full of old stumps, half protruding from beneath +the snow. No doubt he had struck one of these in the fall. But of the +result of the blow he could not tell, for placing his ear close down to +the face he tried to detect some sign of life, but all in vain. Suppose +the parson had been killed! He thought of Nellie, waiting anxiously at the +Rectory. How could he tell her what had happened? Suddenly a new sense of +responsibility came to him. Something must be done as quickly as possible, +and he was the only one to do it. He thought of Stephen's cabin, which +they had passed a short time before. He could obtain help there, and he +must go at once. Taking off his own outer coat he laid it carefully over +the prostrate man, and then struggled back to the road. Having reached +this he imagined it would not take him long to cover the distance. But he +soon found how difficult was the undertaking, and what a task it was to +keep the road on such a night. The blackness was intense, and the snow, +which all the time had been steadily falling, added to the difficulty. +Every few steps he would plunge off into the deep snow, and flounder +around again until he had regained the solid footing. The distance, which +was not more than a mile, seemed never-ending. Still he plodded on, the +thought of that silent form lying in the snow inspiring him with extra +energy. At length, much exhausted, a welcome glimmer of light winged its +way through the darkness. Dan's heart leaped within him. The place was +near, and Stephen had not yet gone to bed. Panting heavily, and struggling +unsteadily, he crept slowly forward, reached the door and pounded fiercely +upon it with both doubled-up fists. + +Slowly the door was opened, and great was Stephen's surprise to see the +little snow-covered figure standing before him. + +"Help! Come quick!" gasped Dan. + +"What's wrong?" Stephen demanded, dragging the boy into the cabin. +"Where's the parson?" + +"Over there--in the snow--in the woods!" + +"Sit down," said Stephen, noticing how weary and excited was the little +lad. "Tell me now all about it." + +Quickly and briefly Dan related about the drive through the storm, the +accident on the "cut off," and Parson John's fall. + +"Oh, God!" Stephen groaned when he had heard the story. "What will Nellie +think? What will she say? It will break her heart! I must be off at once!" + +Reaching for the lantern his hand trembled as he lighted it. + +"Wait here," he commanded, "till I hitch Dexter to the pung; or no, you'd +better come with me and give a hand. There is no time to lose." + +Dan obeyed without a word and held the lantern while Stephen harnessed the +horse. + +"Where's Midnight?" Stephen asked, as he deftly drew the reins through the +terrets. + +"She ran away. I heard the sleigh crashing after her as she ran." + +"She'll kill herself! But no, she's too wise for that. She'll go home and +whinny at the door, and then what will Nellie think! We must hurry along +as fast as possible. She will he frantic with fear." + +"Guess we'd better bring the parson back to your place," Dan remarked as +Dexter swung down the road. + +"Bring him to my place!" exclaimed Stephen in surprise. "What can we do +for him there?" + +"Won't he need the doctor?" + +"Yes, he may. But we can't go all the way to Bradin now." + +"Guess you won't have to do that." + +"Why, what do you mean?" + +"He's at the Stickles'." + +"At the Stickles'?" + +"Yep. The little girl got hurt, so we went after the doctor." + +"Oh, I see--I see now," Stephen mused. "That's a different matter. It's +only three miles to the Stickles'. But the road will be bad to-night, for +the wind's across country, and the drifts there pile fast and deep. But I +shall go if necessary, even if I have to crawl on all fours. I won't have +to do that, though, for Dexter will take me through if any horse can." + +It did not take them long to cover the one mile of road between the cabin +and the place where the accident had occurred. By the light of the lantern +it was not difficult to find the spot. An uncanny feeling crept over them +as they drew near, and saw the parson lying there in the snow just as Dan +had left him. With the lantern in his hand Stephen leaped from the pung +and looked intently into the face of the prostrate man. It did not take +him long to ascertain that life still remained in his body, and a prayer +of thankfulness went up from his heart as he thought of the dear old man +and the anxious Nellie. + +Quickly and as carefully as possible they lifted him into the pung, +covered him with a warm robe, and then sped back to the cabin. As soon as +they had laid him upon the bed, Stephen reached for a heavy coat hanging +on the wall. + +"I'm off now," he said. "You keep watch. I'll be back as soon as I can." + +The injured man lay perfectly motionless, to all outward appearance dead. +Dan stood looking at him for some time after Stephen had left, puzzled and +bewildered. What could he do? What would Nellie think of him now? He sank +upon the stool by the bedside And buried his face in his hands--a forlorn +little creature, trying to think. Presently he glanced towards the bed, +and gazed long and intently upon the parson's face. Many were the thoughts +which crowded into his mind as he sat there. A deep affection for the old +man had sprung up in his heart. To him he was like some superior being +with his great strength and wonderful knowledge. Then to think he should +care for him, Dan Flitter, so small, who could neither read nor write, who +was nothing but a sponger. The thought of Farrington's insult came to him, +and what he had said about the parson. It had rankled continually in his +breast, and now it arose in greater force than ever. Why were the people +saying such things about this good man? He had listened to men talking in +the store and along the road. They had said and hinted many things, and he +had been silent. But, though silent, his mind and heart had been at work. +Often while lying in his little bed at night he had brooded over the +matter. He longed to do something to clear the parson, and show the people +that they were wrong. But what could he do? They would not listen to him. +They hinted that the parson had stolen the gold, and what could he say? It +needed more than words. These were the thoughts which had been beating +through his brain for days, giving him at times that listless manner, +far-away look, and lack of interest in his studies, which worried Nellie +so much. So sitting on guard by the injured man's side this night with +large, dreamy eyes, thoughtful face--more thoughtful than ordinary for a +child of his age--he recalled the various scenes since the night of the +fire. Suddenly his face flushed, the dreamy expression faded from his +eyes, as the dim light of dawn is dispersed by the fulness of day. They +shone with a new radiance as he turned them upon the parson's face. He +rose to his feet and walked quickly up and down the room. He was once +again a creature of the wild. The glory of a lofty purpose fired his +blood. He had experienced it before when, out in the woods, he had +followed the tracks of the nimble deer, or listened to the whirr of the +startled pigeon. But now it was a nobler chase, a loftier purpose, in +which the honour of a faithful friend was at stake. + +A sound from the bed startled him. Glancing quickly in that direction he +noticed the lips of the wounded man moving. No sign of consciousness, +however, did he give. He was in another world, the strange, mysterious +world, where the mind roams at will and language flows from the +fountain-head of the inner being. + +"'The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee--drink +this--.'" He was in church at the Communion service, administering the +cup. + +"Four thousand dollars." He was at the auction now, eager and intent. + +"Poor lassie, poor little lamb." This time it was the injured Stickles +child. And thus he rambled on from one thing to another, while Dan stood +like a statue in the room staring upon him. Suddenly he opened his eyes, +looked around in a dazed manner, and then fixed them upon the boy's face. +He moved a little, and at once a cry of pain escaped his lips. + +"Dan! Dan!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter? Where am I, and what is the +meaning of this pain in my shoulder?" + +The look in his face was most pathetic, and Dan longed to do something to +relieve his suffering. + +"Does yer shoulder hurt much?" the lad asked. + +"Yes, yes, the pain is intense. Tell me how it happened." + +"We were chucked from the sleigh, an' I guess you struck a stump," was the +reply. + +"Is this Stephen's cabin?" + +"Yep. He's gone fer the doctor, so I'm keepin' watch." + +The parson remained very quiet, and did not speak for some time. He still +felt confused, and his shoulder was giving him great pain. He realized, +however, how much he owed to Dan. What if he had been alone when the +accident occurred? + +"Did you come back for Stephen?" he at length questioned. + +"Yep." + +"And you were not hurt? Are you sure?" + +"Sure's I'm livin'." + +"And you were not afraid to come alone to the cabin for help?" + +"No, I didn't mind." + +"You're a brave boy, Dan. You've done much for me to-night. Saved my life, +in fact." + +"Oh, I didn't do much. Not worth mentionin'," and the lad took his seat by +the bedside. + +How the time did creep by. Often Dan went to the door and looked out. He +strained his ears in order to hear the sound of bells, but the wind +moaning and tearing through the tree-tops alone fell upon his ears. At +last, when his patience was almost exhausted, the door was flung open, and +Doctor Leeds entered, covered with snow, and a most anxious look upon his +face. It did not take long for the practised eye and hand to ascertain the +trouble. The shoulder had been dislocated, and would have to be replaced. + +Then the parson showed of what stuff he was made. Hardly a sound escaped +his lips as the doctor, assisted by Stephen, performed the painful +operation. + +"There!" exclaimed the physician, as he bound up the wounded member, +"we'll have you round again in a short time. Now, some would have squaked +and yelled like a baby, but you're a man through and through." "Thank +you, Doctor. You are very good. But how about the little lass? You didn't +leave her for me? Tell me the truth," and the parson's eyes sought the +doctor's face. + +"Oh, don't you worry about her," was the good-natured reply. "Sweepstakes +took me over the road like the wind, and I had the poor little leg all +fixed up before Stephen arrived. She'll do very well now without my care. +But come, we must get you home at once." + +"Do you think I am able to go?" + +"Able! certainly you're able. Home's the only place for you, though the +journey may cause you some pain." + +"And you will come too, Doctor? You muat be very tired, and need a good +rest." + +"Yes, I'm going with you. I'm not going to leave you yet. You're worth +fifty ordinary men, and we must not run any risk. Besides that, sir, I do +want a glimpse of your dear Nellie, and a little chat with her. I haven't +rested my eyes upon her for months, and do you think I'm going to miss +such an opportunity? No, sir, not a bit of it." + +Mr. Westmore was forced to smile in spite of his weakness as he looked +into the doctor's strong, rugged face. + +"God bless you," he replied. "This isn't the first time you have been a +firm friend to me. I can never forget how you stood day and night by the +side of my dear wife, doing all in your power to keep her with us a little +longer." + +"Tut, tut, man," and the doctor turned away to hide a mistiness in his +eyes. "She was worthy of it, and her like can't be found every day. But +come, Steve has been waiting at the door for some time, and we must be +away." + + + + +Chapter XV. + +Deepening Shadows + + +As Nellie stood at the study window the Sunday afternoon her father left +for Craig's Corner a sense of depression and loneliness stole over her. +How much longer could her father continue those hard drives, she wondered. +He was getting old. His hair was so white and his steps feeble. What was +to become of him when he could perform his beloved work no longer? She +knew very well how they were pressed for money, and how much had gone to +help Philip in his fight in British Columbia. How many things had they +gone without! Even mere common necessities had been given up. Naturally +her mind turned to the auction, and the money her father had paid down for +the farm. Four thousand dollars! Where had it come from, and why would her +father never tell her, or speak about it in her presence? How often had +she lain awake at night thinking about it all! Then to hear people more +than hinting about Billy Fletcher's gold, and what had become of it, was +at times more than she could bear. Never for a moment did she doubt her +father, but often she longed to ask him for an explanation of the mystery. +Was the money his own, or was he handling it for someone else? If so, why +should he not tell her--his only daughter--who was so dear to him? + +She was aroused by the arrival of several children from the houses nearest +the Rectory. Every Sunday afternoon Nellie found her real enjoyment with +her little class. She had known them all since their birth, and they loved +her. How longingly they looked forward to that brief Sunday gathering. +There were no harsh, strict rules here, no perfunctory opening and +closing, and no lifeless lessons droned forth in a half-rebellious spirit. +It was all joy and love. How their voices did ring as Nellie played on the +little harmonium some sweet hymn attuned to childish hearts and minds. +Then, after the lessons were over, there came the treat of the day--a +story read from one of those marvellous books kept on a shelf in a corner +all by themselves. When at last the story had been finished and the class +dispersed, Nellie locked the doors, and made her way to Vivien Nelson's. +What a hearty welcome she received from them all! To Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, +hard-working, God-fearing people, she was as their own daughter. She and +Vivien, their only child, had been playmates together at school, and their +friendship had never languished. There Nellie felt at home. She knew that +no matter what disagreeable things were being said about her father +throughout the parish, no word of reproach or blame was ever mentioned in +the Nelson home. Others might think what they liked about Parson John, but +the Nelsons had known him too long in times of sorrow and joy to believe +any evil of their old Rector. + +Here Nellie stayed until the following afternoon, and then made her way +home to have the house comfortable before her father came back. As the +evening drew near she anxiously watched for his return. She saw the dull +grey sky and knew that a storm threatened. As the darkness deepened and +the wind raved about the house, and the snow beat against the north +windows, her anxiety increased. The supper table stood ready in its snowy +whiteness; the kettle sang on the stove and the fire in the sitting-room +grate threw out its cheerful glow. It was a scene of peace and genial +comfort contrasted with the raging of the elements outside. But Nellie +thought nothing of this, for her heart was too much disturbed. Had +anything happened to her father and Dan? It was some relief to know that +the lad was along, for two were better than one should an accident occur. +Her eyes roamed often to the little clock ticking away on the +mantel-piece. Six-seven-eight-nine. The hours dragged slowly by. She tried +to read, but the words were meaningless. She picked up her needlework, but +soon laid it down again, with no heart to continue. Once more she glanced +at the clock. Ten minutes after nine. She thought it longer than that +since it had struck the hour. She arose to attend the kitchen fire, when a +loud knock upon the front door startled her. She turned back, and stood +for an instant in the centre of the room. Her heart beat fast, and her +face paled. Tramps were frequently seen in Glendow, working their way from +one place to another. At times they were impudent and tried to force an +entrance into houses. It was a likely night for them to seek shelter, and +suppose one were standing out there now! What could she, a lone woman, do? +Another rap, harder than the first, fell upon her ears. Something must be +done, and at once. Crossing the room and pausing near the door she +demanded who was there. + +"Sam Dobbins," came the reply, and Nellie breathed more freely as she +unlocked the door, opened it and admitted the visitor. + +"'Tis a blasted night," the man remarked as he tried to shake himself free +from his mantle of snow and stamped upon the floor with his great heavy +boots. "If I'd known 'twas so bad I'd never stirred one step." + +"Is anything wrong?" questioned Nellie, fearful lest Sam was the bearer of +ill news. "Have you seen my father?" + +"Your father! Isn't he home?" and the man looked his surprise. + +"No, he hasn't come yet, and I'm so uneasy." + +"Well, I declare, and to think that I have come all the way to see him, +and he's not here. When do you expect him?" + +"I expected him home before dark, but now I don't know what to think. Is +there anything I can do for you, Mr. Dobbins? Won't you take a seat?" + +"No, there's nothin' you kin do, miss. I've got to see the parson, and +only him. I hate the job, but I've got to do it. I'm the only constable in +the place, and I've got to do my duty." + +At these words a startled look came into Nellie's face. She took a step +forward and looked keenly into the man's eyes. + +"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I know you're a constable, but what do +you want of my father? Oh, please tell me, quick!" + +"Now don't get excited, Miss," Mr. Dobbins kindly replied, looking with +admiration upon the excited young figure before him. "Remember, I've +nothin' against your father. Haven't I shod every horse he had since he +came to this place, long before you were born. He's been a good customer +of mine, and I ain't got nothin' agin him. I'm only doin' my duty as a +constable." + +"But I don't understand, Mr. Dobbins. You come here to arrest my father +and----" + +"Only to serve the summons, Miss," interrupted the blacksmith. "I ain't +goin' to arrest him. He'll be asked to appear at the trial, that's all." + +"Trial! what trial?" + +"Oh, it's in connection with a cow." + +"A cow!" + +"Yes. It seems that Si Farrington's hired man, Pete Davis, was takin' away +the Stickles' only cow, when your father appeared on the scene, cut the +rope, set the cow free, and sent Joe off in a hurry. Farrington's in a +rage, and says he'll make the parson smart fer what he did. He's goin' to +take legal action, and so I've been sent to serve the summons. That's all +I know about it, Miss. I'm real sorry, but what else could I do?" + +Nellie made no reply when the man ceased. Words would not come. Her bosom +heaved, and she placed her hand to her forehead in an abstracted manner. +Her eyes were fixed full upon the constable's face, though she did not see +him. Her thoughts were away from that room, out through the storm and +darkness to an old grey-headed man battling somewhere with the tempest, +for the sake of others. What had happened? What would he think when he +reached home to find out what Farrington was doing? + +The constable shifted uneasily from one foot to the other in an +embarrassed manner before those pathetic eyes. He clutched his cap more +firmly in his hands, and shuffled towards the door. + +"Guess I'll go now, Miss," he stammered. "I'll step up the road to make a +call and come back again. Maybe your father will be home then." + +Nellie hardly heard the door open and close as the constable passed out +into the night. She stood for awhile as if dazed, then sinking into a +nearby chair she buried her face in her hands. The wind howled and roared +outside, and the snow dashed and swirled against the window. A big grey +cat rose from its position before the fire, came and rubbed its sleek fur +against her dress, and gently purred for some attention. But Nellie did +not heed it. How dark all seemed to her! One thing after another! Why were +these clouds gathering so thick over her dear father's head? It did not +seem possible that he could be kept in ignorance much longer. It was sure +to be revealed through this last trouble. + +A sound fell upon her ears which made her look quickly up. Was it the +wind? She listened with fast-beating heart. Again it came--a pathetic +whinny out in the yard. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to the back +door. She knew that call, for how often had she heard it! Midnight was +there, standing almost at the threshold. Her dim form could be seen as +Nellie peered out. She hurried forth, heedless of the pelting storm, +expecting to hear her father's voice. But no cheery greeting met her, +neither could she find the sleigh. Feeling around with her hands she felt +the trailing shafts, and the awful truth flashed upon her. An accident had +happened! And what of her father? Forgetting the horse she turned back +into the house, seized a cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and hurried +out into the storm. How the wind did roar about her as she waded and half +stumbled through the drifts, which were now filling the road. Anxiety lent +speed to her feet. She dashed on her way, and at length almost breathless +reached the Larkins' house. Upon the door she beat with her hands, and +after what seemed a long time Mr. Larkins made his appearance. + +"Nellie! Nellie!" he exclaimed in affright, as she staggered into the +room. "What in the world is the matter? Tell me, quick!" + +"F-father's--had--an--a-a-ccident. Midnight came home without the sleigh-- +dragging the shafts--oh, what can we do?" + +"Do?" was the reply. "We shall do what we can! I shall harness the horses +at once, get several of the neighbors, and go in search of him. Don't +worry too much, Nellie. To be pitched out of the sleigh in the soft snow +is not so bad. No doubt we shall meet him and Dan plodding wearily along." + +This the worthy man said to calm Nellie's fears, though in his own heart +there was real anxiety, and he was not long in placing the horses fast to +the big sled. But before he left he stopped to turn Midnight into the barn +floor, threw on her blanket, and left her quietly munching a liberal +supply of hay. + +Mrs. Larkins was not long in making her appearance, and did what she could +to bring comfort to Nellie's anxious heart. She also went with her back to +the Rectory to await her husband's return. How the time did drag by! At +every wild gust of wind Nellie started and trembled. At length, however, +the faint sound of bells was heard, and scarcely had the panting, +snow-flecked horses stopped at the door ere Nellie, bare-headed, and with +a shawl over her shoulders, appeared. + +"Father, father!" she cried, as she rushed forward, and peered into the +familiar face. "Are you safe?" + +"Yes, dearie. I am home again," came the feeble response. + +"Oh, thank God!" she replied, throwing her arms around his neck, and +kissing him again and again. "What a night this has been--a horrible +nightmare!" + +"Come, lassie," demanded the doctor. "Away with you into the house. What +are you doing out here in such a storm? We'll look after your dad." + + + + +Chapter XVI + +For Sweet Love's Sake + + +All the next day the storm continued in its unabated fury. The roads were +completely blocked from fence to fence, and all sources of communication +in Glendow were cut off. Each house was a little world of its own, a +lighthouse in the midst of an ocean of snow where the long drifts piled +and curled like hungry foaming breakers. + +"This is the first holiday I've had for some time," chuckled good Doctor +Leeds as he leaned back comfortably in an easy-chair, and puffed away at +his pipe. "No one can come for me to-day, that's certain." + +Nellie, too, was glad, and as she watched the storm from the window a +feeling of relief came into her heart. + +"Dear storm," she said to herself. "How I love you to-day. You are a stern +protector, keeping out all prying eyes and malignant tongues. Mr. Dobbins +will not venture out while you are abroad, and so we will have peace a +little longer." + +Parson John passed a restless night, moaning much from the pain in his +shoulder. Towards morning, however, he passed into a comfortable sleep, +and did not wake until near noon. Nellie and the doctor had a long chat +together. He told her about the accident, and she related to him the +incident of the constable's visit to the Rectory. + +"The brute!" roared the doctor, when Nellie had finished. "Farrington's a +scoundrel! Why can't he leave decent people alone! He's always meddling +with someone. He's never happy unless he's persecuting people. Oh, I've +known him for years. And so he wants to have your father arrested, does +he, for saving the Stickles' cow?" + +"Yes," Nellie replied, "and I'm dreading the effect it will have upon my +father." + +"I see, I see," mused the doctor, while his eyes closed in a dreamy sort +of a way. "It will not be for his good, that's certain. But there's a way, +lassie, there's a way; don't forget that." + +"What do you mean, Doctor?" + +"I was just thinking what a villain Farrington is, and in what an +underhanded way he works. But he leaves a loophole every time. Let me tell +you something." + +Then the doctor leaned over, and what he said brought back the colour into +Nellie's face, and made her heart beat fast, and sent her about her +household duties with a new spirit. + +During the next night the storm cleared, and the morning sun transformed +the vast, white fields into a shining, sparkling glory. Nellie was early +astir, finished her household duties, cared for her father, who was +steadily improving, ere the doctor made his appearance. + +"I'm going to leave you in charge awhile this morning," she remarked as +the latter was eating his breakfast. "The day is bright and those large +drifts are so tempting, that I long for a snowshoe tramp. I have been in +the house so long that I must have a breath of fresh air." + +"Good!" replied the doctor. "It's just what you need. You had better make +the most of it, too, while I am here, for as soon as the roads are broken +I must be away. There are many patients to be looked after." + +"Thank you, Doctor, very much. I know father will not mind my absence for +a short time," Nellie responded, as she hurried away to make ready for her +tramp. + +A pretty figure she presented as she stood a little later before the door +and bade the doctor good-bye. Snowshoeing she loved, and she had often +travelled for miles with Stephen in the clear bracing air. But to-day she +was not on pleasure bent, and her heart beat fast as she moved on her way. +No sign of life did she see as steadily she plodded forward over the +yielding snow. An hour later when she stood before Farrington's house and +laid aside her snowshoes, her face was flushed with a healthy glow caused +by the vigorous exercise. Her courage almost failed as she knocked upon +the door, and waited for it to be opened. It was Mrs. Farrington who came, +and great was her astonishment when she found who was there. + +"Why, it's Nellie Westmore, I do declare!" she exclaimed. "Come right in, +dear, and lay your wraps aside. I'm so glad to see ye. But how in the +world did ye git here?" + +"I snowshoed all the way," was the quiet reply, "and I have come to see +Mr. Farrington. Is he in?" + +"Why certainly. He's in the store. I'll call 'im at once," and Mrs. +Farrington bustled off, wondering what in the world brought Nellie on such +a morning. + +As Farrington entered the house a few minutes later, Nellie rose to meet +him. She knew that now was the crucial moment, and a prayer went up from +her heart for guidance. She was surprised at her own calmness as she +looked into the face of the man who was causing her so much worry. + +"I'm very glad to see ye, Nellie," and Farrington stretched out a big fat +hand. "Set down, please." + +"No, thank you, Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied. "I prefer to stand. I do +not wish to keep you long. I've come to see you this morning on behalf of +my father." + +"Umph!" ejaculated Farrington, as he threw himself into an easy-chair. + +"You know," continued Nellie, "my father met with a bad accident night +before last, and is now confined to his bed, and I have come to ask you +not to let Mr. Dobbins trouble him while he is in his weak condition.. I +feel quite sure you will do this." + +"Ye want me to spare 'im, do ye?" Farrington blurted out. "Spare the man +who has injured me above measure!" + +"Indeed! And in what way?" Nellie applied. + +"In what way? do ye ask. Why, didn't he outbid me in the Frenelle +homestead? Doesn't he refuse to buy goods at my store; an' then, to cap it +all, interfered with my hired man when he went after that cow? Hev I any +right to spare 'im? Tell me that." + +"You have the right of consideration for an old man. My father is aging +fast, and any trouble worries him so much. He doesn't know about what you +intend to do, and I hope I can prevail upon you to go no further." + +Nellie's voice was low and pathetic, and she made some impression upon +Farrington, for when she had finished he did not at once reply. He sat +looking at her, thinking how pretty she was. + +"Nellie," he at length remarked, "we've allus been very fond of ye. We've +known ye ever sense ye was a baby, an' ye seem like one of our own. Ye hev +a good eddication, an' bein' a lady ye are well fitted to adorn a good +man's home. Now, our Dick is a most promisin' feller, who thinks a sight +of ye, so if ye'd consent to look upon him favourably, it ud please us all +mighty well. Besides----" + +"Mr. Farrington!" interrupted Nellie, "what do you mean? What do I +understand you to say? Do you----" + +"Wait a minute, my dear," remonstrated Farrington. "It's jist as well fer +ye to consider this reasonable proposition fust as last. Yer dad's gittin' +old now, so he can't last much longer; an' ye'll hev a home." + +"An' jist think, Nellie dear," spoke up Mrs. Farrington, "what an +advantage it'll be to ye. Richard'll inherit the hull of our property some +day. He will be a gentleman, an' the son of a gentleman, too--of a good +old fambly. It'll be a very gratifyin' thing, too, fer ye to know that +Richard's father was a Councillor of Glendow. So now, dear, give up that +uncouth Frenelle boy, an' take on with our son Richard." + +Nellie's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson now, and her eyes were +flashing with an angry light. Her heart was filled with disgust at these +cool, self-satisfied schemers. Had they been less confident of their own +importance they would have realized that they were treading on dangerous +ground. They could not comprehend that back of Nellie's quiet, reserved +demeanour there was a moral courage which would rise to any height of +self-sacrifice at the call of duty, or in defence of those she loved. They +had known her from childhood, and to natures such as theirs her gentleness +and retiring disposition were interpreted as weakness or lack of proper +spirit. To be suddenly awakened from such an idea was startling in the +extreme. + +"Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied, holding herself in check with a mighty +effort, "I am very much astonished at the words I have just heard. I came +here to talk to you as a lady would talk to a gentleman. But great is my +surprise to be insulted to my face. You have no right to speak to me as +you have done this morning, or to take such liberties as regards Stephen +Frenelle. He is a real gentleman's son, and has the true instincts of a +gentleman. We were children together, and I do not wish you to speak of +him or any friend of mine in a slighting manner. As to your remarks in +reference to your son, they are so unworthy of a father and mother that +they arouse in me the feelings of deepest pity for you. I blush to think +that you should ever suggest such a thing, and am surprised that your +better nature does not assert itself, and cause you to cover your heads in +shame for having uttered such words." + +Nellie spoke rapidly with her eyes fixed full upon Farrington's face. The +latter shifted uneasily at this torrent of words, and occasionally glanced +at his wife, who was sitting near with open-mouthed wonder. + +"Dear me, dear me!" Mrs. Farrington replied. "I allus thought ye was sich +a nice, modest little thing, an' to think that ye should go on like this. +What would yer dear mother think if she was livin'?" + +"You are a mother, Mrs. Farrington," Nellie responded, "and what would you +think if anyone made such a proposition to Eudora as you have made to me?" + +"Oh, that's a different question." + +"And in what way?" + +"Oh, Eudora will hev money, an' will not be left penniless, while you an' +yer father are jist dependin' upon the parish." + +"Yes, I know it only too well," Nellie bitterly answered. "We are little +more than paupers, trusting to the voluntary offerings of the people for +our support. But then, this has little to do with what I came here for. We +have wandered from the subject. I came simply to speak on behalf of my +father." + +"Oh, that matter's settled now once and fer all," Farrington replied in a +cool, matter-of-fact manner. "Ye've taken the bizness into yer own hands. +We've made ye a good offer, an' ye've refused pint blank, so we'll +consider this little affair atween us settled. Sam Dobbins is in the store +waitin' fer me, so I shall tell 'im to go ahead an' serve the summons." + +"Stop a minute," Nellie demanded, as Farrington rose to his feet, +stretched himself, and started leisurely towards the door. + +"There's something you evidently have not considered which might change +matters a little. I came here this morning trusting to get your consent to +leave my father alone without any unnecessary trouble. I appealed to your +manhood, but in vain. Now, there is only one course open to me, which I +will be obliged to take." + +"Hey, what's this?" and Farrington's brow knitted in perplexity. "I don't +understand you." + +"No, certainly you don't, but you will presently. I would like to ask who +it was you sent out after the Stickles' cow?" + +"Why, Pete, of course; my hired man. He allus does that work fer me, an' +has taken dozens of 'em at various times." + +"Yes, so I have heard," and Nellie's voice was charged with a warning +note. "But were you not afraid of the risk you were running, Mr. +Farrington?" + +"Risk? what risk? I never had any trouble. What do you mean?" + +"But is Pete a constable?" + +"A constable, be blowed! What are ye drivin' at?" + +"Did he have a warrant from a magistrate to go to the Stickles' place, +open the door, enter the barn, and try to take away that cow?" + +"N-no, certainly not. But he never had one afore, an' everything was all +right." + +"Yes, it was all right as far as you were concerned, because no one +interfered, and the people were always too poor to make a fuss. But do you +know that you have laid yourself open to a grave offence? In the eyes of +the law you tried to steal that cow from the Stickles." + +"Girl! Girl! What do ye mean by talkin' this way?" and Farrington bounded +from his chair in a rage. "Explain to me at once what ye mean by sich +words!" + +"There's nothing much to explain, Mr. Farrington. Without a warrant, or +any legal authority, you sent your servant to break into a private barn, +and lead away a cow belonging to Mr. Stickles. Because my father +interfered you wish to have him arrested. I hope you see the point." + +Farrington was certainly a study just then. His eyes glowered, and his +face was inflamed with rage. He was in a trap and he knew it. + +"Ye'll pay fer this!" he cried, stamping upon the floor, in anger. "Ye'll +--Ye'll----!" + +"Very well," Nellie calmly replied. "I've simply told you your position, +so now if you wish to go ahead, do so. You will know what to expect. +Perhaps I have been a better friend to you than you now imagine. Remember, +we have friends, who know a thing or two, and besides, if you are not +careful, something may go wrong on election day." + +"Who told you this, girl?" Farrington demanded. "Who put ye up to this +bizness?" + +"That's my own affair. I have warned you, so go ahead if you care to. I +shall say no more." + +With that she turned and walked quietly out of the house, put on her +snowshoes, and started on her homeward way. But the trying ordeal through +which she had passed told upon her. She trembled violently, and a great +weakness came over her. She felt that she would sink down upon the snow. +How could she continue? She looked all around, but no sign of life could +she behold; no one to aid her. What was she to do? She thought of her +father. Was he waiting for her, perhaps wondering where she was? With a +great effort she moved slowly forward, and presently found her strength +returning. On and on she plodded. Never had the snowshoes seemed so heavy, +or the way so long, and right glad was she to see at last the Rectory rise +up large and homelike before her. She reached the door, doffed the +snowshoes, entered the house, hurried to her own room, and throwing +herself upon her bed, wept as if her heart would break. She was tired--oh, +so tired. The tears brought a blessed relief to her surcharged feelings, +and when she at length sought her father's side a sunny smile illumined +her face, her step was firm, and little remained to show to a casual +observer the fierce struggle through which she had recently passed. + + + + +Chapter XVII + +Hitting Back + + +Farrington said very little after Nellie's departure. He even surprised +his wife by his coolness, for instead of raging, swearing and stamping +around the house he walked quietly out into the store. Here he busied +himself with various matters, and talking at times to the few customers +who straggled in. When no one was present he sat on a high stool by the +window and gazed out over the snow. He was not thinking of money now, nor +how much his eggs and butter would bring. His mind was dwelling upon that +scene which had just taken place. He thought nothing of the brave defence +Nellie had made on behalf of her father, but only of his own wounded +feelings. At times his hands would clinch, and a half-audible curse escape +his lips. He would get even, oh, yes! But how? He saw the danger of going +any further in connection with the Stickles' cow affair. He must let that +drop. There were other ways, he was sure of that; the difficulty was to +know just what to do. + +The door opened, and a tall, lanky man entered, with a pair of skates +dangling over his left shoulder. + +"Hello, Miles!" exclaimed Farrington, hurrying around to shake hands with +him. "Haven't seen you fer an age. What's the news at Craig's Corner? Set +down, you look about tuckered out." + +"Should say I was," Miles drawled forth. "Never got into such a mess in +all my life. Skated down river Sunday evening and was caught in that +blasted snowstorm, and so am footing it back." + +"Dear me, that's hard luck," and Farrington sat down upon a soap-box. +"Anyway, I'm mighty glad to see ye. Hope things are goin' well at the +Corner. Much election talk, eh?" + +"Considerable. The air's been full of it lately, but I guess Sunday's +doings will give the folks a new subject for awhile. 'Twas certainly a +stunner!" + +"Why, what do ye mean, Miles? Nobody killed, I hope." + +"What! Haven't you heard anything?" + +"No, how could I with the storm blockin' the roads." + +"Sure. I never thought of that. But I supposed the parson let it out." + +"The parson!" and Farrington's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What in +the devil has he to do with it? He was brought home night afore last with +his shoulder out of jint" + +"Whew! You don't say so! Well, I declare!" + +"Tell me what ye mean, man," exclaimed Farrington, moving impatiently on +his seat. "Let's have the yarn." + +"Ha-ha! It was a corker! Just think of it; a funeral procession moving +slowly across the river, with Tim Fraser and Parson John racing by like a +whirlwind. I never saw anything like it, ha-ha!" and Miles leaning back +laughed loud and long at the recollection. + +Farrington was all attention now. A gleam of delight shone in his eyes, +and a faint sigh of relief escaped his lips. He controlled his eagerness, +however, for he wished to draw Miles out, and learn the whole story. + +"Ye don't mean to tell me," he remarked, "that the parson was racin' on +Sunday? Surely ye must be mistaken!" + +"I'm a liar then," calmly replied the other, gazing thoughtfully down at +his boots. "Yes, I'm a liar, and a fool! Why, didn't I see the whole thing +with my own eyes? And didn't all the people of Craig's Corner see it, too? +Ask them, they'll tell you the same." + +"I don't doubt yer word, Miles, but it's so unusual. The parson never did +anything like that before, did he?" + +"Not to my knowledge. But he's mighty fond of a horse, and a fast one at +that, so I guess when Tim Fraser clipped up he couldn't resist the +temptation." + +"Did he explain about it? Did he tell how it happened?" + +"He didn't say much. I heard him tell some people that he never let the +devil get ahead of him, and he was bound he wouldn't do it that time." + +"Ho-ho! That's what he said? Nothing more?" + +"No, not that I heard. I came away after that, so nothing new has reached +me since, except what you tell me. Is he badly injured?" + +"I don't know. Guess he'll come out all right; he generally does." + +"He looked very well on Sunday. I'm really sorry he's met with this +accident." + +"Mebbe it had something to do with the race," suggested Farrington. + +"In what way?" + +"Perhaps it's a punishment fer what he did on Sunday." + +"Surely, you don't say--!" and Miles' mouth opened in surprise. + +"Oh, I don't say anything fer certain. I only know that sich things +sometimes do happen. A man who will race on the Sacred Day of Rest must +expect almost anything to happen. I've known of several sich cases. +Something generally does happen." + +"You don't say so! Well!" + +"Now honestly," continued Farrington very deliberately, "do ye think sich +a man is fit to be the minister of the Gospel in Glendow? Do ye think a +man who stands in church on Sunday an' reads them solemn words about +keepin' the Sabbath Day holy, an' then goes out on the ice an' engages in +a horse-race--do ye think sich a man is fit to teach our people? What an +example to set our children! When we tell 'em to remember the Day an' keep +it holy, they will say, 'Oh, the parson raced his horse on Sunday!' Oh, +yes, that's what they'll say. So you see what a condition the parish will +be in." + +"Well, I never thought of it that way," replied Miles, rising to his feet. +"But I must be off. I see the road is being broken." + +When the man had left the store Farrington stood for some time with his +hands clasped behind his back. He was in deep thought, and occasionally +his lips curled with a pleased smile. He then walked to the window, and +watched the men breaking the roads. He saw his own hired man, Pete Davis, +among the rest. Most of the able-bodied men of the neighbourhood were +there with shovels and teams. It was an inspiring sight to see team after +team in a long procession plowing their way forward among the high drifts. +Where the snow was light the leading horses would plunge through, blowing, +snorting, struggling, and at times almost hidden from view. In places +shovels had to be used and then cuttings, narrow and deep, were made +through the banks, just wide enough for one team to move at a time. For +hours the work had been carried on, and at length the last drift had been +conquered, and communication, from place to place once again opened up. + +Farrington watching the horses surging through was not thinking of the +fine appearance they presented. His mind was upon a far different matter. +He stood there, saw the teams swing around and finally disappear up the +road. It pleased him to see Miles riding upon one of the sleds. His ready +tongue was as good as a newspaper, and he would spread the story of the +Sunday race wherever he went. + +Mrs. Farrington was surprised at her husband's jocular manner when he was +called to dinner. He joked and laughed more than he had done in many a +day. Not a word did he say about Nellie's visit; in fact he seemed to have +forgotten all about it. + +"Ye must have done a good bizness this mornin', Si," his wife remarked. "I +haven't seen ye in sich fine spirits in a long time." + +"Haven't sold as much as usual, my dear," was the reply. "Didn't expect to +anyway, as the roads have jist been broken." + +"But ye seem very happy. Has anything remarkable occurred?" + +"Simply an idea, my dear, simply an idea." + +"Well, well, who'd a thought it. I didn't know that an idea 'ud make one +feel so good. Tell me about it, Si." + +"No, not now. I haven't time. Besides, I want to see how it'll work, an' +then I'll surprise ye." + +Farrington rose from the table, and going to the store went at once to the +small office. Here he spent some time writing, and at the end of a half +hour gave a chuckle of satisfaction, laid aside the pen, folded up the +paper and put it into his pocket. Next he went into the stable, and +ordered Pete to harness the horse and have it at the door in fifteen +minutes. At the end of that time he came from the house, wrapped in his +large fur coat, cap and mittens. Soon he was speeding over the road, +leaving Mrs. Farrington, Eudora and Dick watching him from the window, and +wondering what it all meant, + +Farrington was forth upon important business, and he knew exactly at what +houses to stop. There were the Fletchers, he was sure of them; the +Marshalls, their kinsmen; the Burtons, and several families who owed +fair-sized bills at the store, and would be unable to pay for some time. + +The sun was dipping big and red far westward when Farrington turned his +horse's head homeward. He was well pleased with his afternoon's work. No +one had refused to sign the petition he carried, and over twenty names had +been scrawled upon the paper. + +As he moved along his eyes rested upon a little cottage away to the right, +nestling near a grove of large maple trees. Old Henry Burchill, the +wood-chopper, lived there. Farrington's brows knitted as he thought of +him. Would he sign the paper? He knew that Henry was once opposed to the +parson for introducing certain things into the church. But then that was +long ago, and he wondered how the old man felt now. Anyway there was that +unpaid bill at the store. It would have some weight, and it was no harm to +try. + +Mrs. Burchill was at home, and was surprised to see the storekeeper enter +the house. She was a quiet, reserved woman, who mingled little with her +neighbours. The lines of care upon her face, the bent back and the +toil-worn hands told their own tale of a long, hard battle for life's bare +necessities. Her heart beat fast as she shook hands with her visitor, for +she, too, thought of that bill at the store, which she and her husband had +been bravely striving to pay. + +"Is yer husband at home, Mrs. Burchill?" asked Farrington, seating himself +on a splint-bottomed chair. + +"No, sir. He's in the woods chopping for Stephen. I'm afraid he won't be +home to-night." + +"Dear me! that's too bad," and Farrington brought forth the paper from his +pocket. "I wanted 'im to do a little favour fer me--simply to put his name +to this pertition. But, if you'll do it, 'twill be jist the same," and he +handed over the paper. + +Mrs. Burchill put on her glasses, and slowly and carefully read the words +written there. Farrington watched her closely and noted the colour +mounting to her faded cheeks, and the look of reproach in her eyes as she +at length turned them upon his face. + +"And you expect me to put my name to this?" she demanded. + +"An' why not?" smiled Farrington. "Have you read what the paper sez?" + +"Yes, every word." + +"An' don't ye think there's a reason why ye should sign it? Don't ye think +the Bishop should know what kind of a parson we have?" + +"Mr. Farrington," and Mrs. Burchill spoke very deliberately, "if the Angel +Gabriel himself came with that paper for me to sign I should refuse. I'm +an old woman now, and why should I commit such a sin in my declining +years?" + +"Sin! what sin would ye commit in simply signin' that paper?" Farrington +demanded. + +Mrs. Burchill did not reply at once, but placing her hand upon a Bible +lying by her side she reverently opened it. + +"Listen to these words," she said. "They are not mine, remember, but the +Lord's. 'Touch not mine anointed,' He says, 'and do my prophets no harm.' +Now Parson John is one of the Lord's anointed, set apart for a sacred +work, and it's a dangerous thing to strive against Him." + +"Tut, tut, woman! That's all rubbish! Them things happened in olden days. +Besides, we have a just grievance. He is interferin' too much with the +affairs of others. He takes too much upon himself. Then, what about that +race on Sunday? Do ye think we should stand that?" + +"Ah, sir, it's the same old story. Don't you remember how people said the +very same thing about Moses and Aaron, long, long ago. They said that +those two men were taking too much upon them, and a rebellion ensued. And +what was the result? The Lord punished the people, the earth opened and +swallowed them up. I often read that story to Henry in the evenings, and +it makes us feel very serious. Oh, yes, it's a dangerous thing to +interfere with the Lord's anointed. Something's bound to happen to the +ones who do it." + +Farrington could stand this no longer. He had met with such success during +the afternoon that to hear this rebuke from Mrs. Burchill was most +annoying. + +"Woman!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I don't want to hear all this. +I didn't come here to be preached to about sich old-fashioned trash as the +'Lord's anointed!' I came here to git ye to sign that paper, an' not to be +preached to! Will ye sign it or will ye not?" + +"No, I shall not sign it!" was the quiet response. + +"Very well, then, that's all I want to know. But remember, Mrs. Burchill, +there's a little unpaid account on my books against your husband. Please +tell 'im to call and settle it at once. If not--oh, well you know the +result," and Farrington looked significantly around the room. "So, +good-day. I must be off." + +Mrs. Burchill stood at the window and watched Farrington drive away. Then +a sigh escaped her lips. She went back to the chair where she had been +sitting, and kneeling down buried her face in her hands. For some time she +remained in prayer, but her earnest pleadings were not for herself or her +husband, but for the old grey-headed man--the Venerable Rector of Glendow. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +Wash-Tub Philosophy + + +"I've been up to me neck in soap-suds ever sense daybreak, an' I ain't +done yit." + +So declared Mrs. Stickles as she wiped her hands upon her apron and +offered a chair to her visitor, Betsy McKrigger. + +"I'm rale glad to see ye, nevertheless," she continued, "fer it's been a +month of Sundays sense I sot eyes on ye last. How've ye been? An' yer old +man, is he well?" + +"Only fairly," replied Mrs. McKrigger, laying aside her bonnet and shawl, +and taking the proffered chair. "Abraham went to the mill this mornin' an' +I came this fer with 'im. We were clean out of flour, an', although the +roads are bad, there was no help fer it, so he had to go, poorly as he is. +He'll stop fer me on his way back." + +"An' what's wrong with 'im?" asked Mrs. Stickles, going back to her +washing. + +"The doctor thinks he's got delapitation of the heart. Abraham was never +very strong there, and suffers most after eatin'. I'm gittin' very nervous +about 'im." + +"Oh, is that all?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work. "I wouldn't worry +about that. Mebbe he eats too much. Men's hearts an' stummicks are purty +closely kernected, an' what affects the one affects t'other. It's +indisgestion the man's got-that's what 'tis. It's a wonder to me they +don't all hev it." + +"Mebbe yer right, Mrs. Stickles. 'Abraham is certainly a big eater. But it +wasn't eatin' which gave 'im the delapitation yesterday." + +"What was it, then?" + +"It was Si Farrington who gave it to 'im. That's who it was." + +"Ugh!" ejaculated Mrs. Stickles. "Surely a cur like that wouldn't affect +anyone, would it? I'm jist waitin' to run agin Farrington meself, an' then +we'll see who'll hev palputation of the heart. It'll not be me, I reckon." + +"It's very true what ye say," replied Mrs. McKrigger, bringing forth her +knitting, "but when ye owe the man a bill at the store, an' heven't the +money to pay, it makes a big difference." + +"So he's been at you, has he? I s'pose he's been tryin' to git yer cow, +horse or farm. He tried it here, but Parson John, bless his soul, soon +stopped that." + +"No, not like that. He only hinted what he'd do if Abraham didn't sign the +pertition." + +"Oh, I see. He's goin' to run fer councillor, an' wanted yer husband to +sign his denomination paper, did he?" + +"No, no, not that. It's about the parson." + +"What! Parson John?" + +"Yes, it's about 'im, poor man." + +"Land sakes! What's up now?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work and +stood with arms akimbo. + +"Farrington thinks the parson's too old fer the work, an' that we should +hev a young man with snap an' vim, like Mr. Sparks, of Leedsville. He +believes the young people need to be stirred up; that they're gittin' +tired of the old humdrum way, an' that the parish is goin' to the dogs. +But that wasn't all. He thinks the parson isn't a fit man to be here after +that disgraceful racin' scene on the river last Sunday. He sez it's an +awful example to the young. So he's gittin' up the pertition to send to +the Bishop." + +Mrs. Stickles had left the wash-tub now and was standing before her +visitor. Anger was expressed in her every movement. + +"An' do ye tell me!" she demanded, "that yer husband signed that paper?" + +"W-what else was there to do?" and Mrs. McKrigger dropped her knitting and +shrank back from the irate form before her. "How could he help it?" + +"Betsy McKrigger, I never thought ye'd come to this. Help it! Why didn't +yer husband help Farrington out of the door with the toe of his boot?" + +"But think of that unpaid bill, Mrs. Stickles." + +"Unpaid bill, be fiddlesticks! Would ye turn aginst yer best earthly +friend fer the sake of a bill?" + +"What else could we do?" + +"Do? Let yer cow or anything else go! What do sich things amount to when +yer honour's at stake. Dear me, dear me! has it come to this?" + +"Ye needn't make sich a fuss about the matter," and Mrs. McKrigger +bristled up a bit. "It's a purty serious thing when yer whole livin's in +the fryin'-pan." + +"Livin', livin'! Where does yer livin' come from anyway, Mrs. McKrigger? +Doesn't the Lord send it? I reckon He'll look after us. Didn't He tend to +old 'Lijah when he done his duty. Didn't the ravens feed 'im? An' what +about that widee of Jerrypath? Didn't her meal and ile last when she done +what was right? Tell me that!" + +"Oh, yes, that may be as ye say. I ain't botherin' about old 'Lijah an' +that widow. If them people lived to-day they'd jine forces an' start the +biggest flour an' ile company the world has ever seen. I wish 'Lijah 'ud +come our way some day, fer me an' Abraham hev often scraped the bottom of +the flour barrel an' poured out the last drop of ile, not knowin' where +any more was comin' from." + +"Tut, tut, woman!" remonstrated Mrs. Stickles. "It's wrong fer ye to talk +that way. Hev ye ever really wanted? Didn't the flour and the ile come +somehow? Whenever we're scrapin' the bottom of the barrel it seems that +the Lord allus hears us, and doesn't let us want. I guess, if we stan' by +the Lord, He'll stan' by us. I'm mighty sorry yer man signed that +pertition aginst that man of God. It don't seem right nohow." + +"I'm not worryin' about that, Mrs. Stickles. Farrington has considerable +right on his side. The parson is old. We do need a young man with snap an' +vim. The parson's sermints are too dry an' deep. Abraham sleeps right +through 'em, an' says it's impossible to keep awake." + +"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Stickles held up her hands in amazement. "To +think that I should live to hear sich words in me own house. Ye say the +parson's too old. Ain't ye ashamed of them words? Too old! D'ye want some +new dapper little snob spoutin' from the pulpit who hasn't as much +knowledge in his hull body as Parson John has in his little finger? I know +there's many a thing the parson talks about that I can't understan', an' +so there is in the Bible. I often talk the matter over with John. 'John,' +sez I, 'Ye recollect when ye was makin' that wardrobe fer me out in the +shed two springs ago?' + +"'Well,' sez he. + +"'An' ye remember how the children used to watch ye an' wonder what ye was +makin'!' + +"'Sartinly,' sez he. + +"'An' how they used to pick up the shavin's ye planed off, an' brung them +inter the house.' + +"He kalkerlated he did. + +"'Well then,' sez I, 'John, them children didn't understan' what ye was +makin', but they could pick up the shavin's an' make use of 'em. So when +Parson John is preachin' an' I can't altogether foller him, I kin pick up +somethin' here an' thar which I do understand, an' them are the shavin's +which I kin use, an' do use. Oh! John,' sez I, 'hasn't the parson been +droppin' shavin's fer over thirty years, an' not allus in the pulpit +either, an' haven't we ben helped 'cause we picked 'em up an' made 'em our +own?' John said I was right, an' he knows, dear soul." + +"That may be all very well fer you an' John," replied Mrs. McKrigger, "but +what about the young people, an' the older ones fer all that, who won't +pick up the shavin's? Farrington sez we want a poplar young man who kin +speak without any preparation, like Mr. Dale, the missionary who was here +last summer. Now, there was a man up to whom the young men could look, a +reglar soldier, who had been in the fight in Africy, had lived among +lions, tagers and niggers. He was a hero, an' if we could git a rale live +missionary like that, he'd make Glendow hum, an' the old church 'ud be +packed to the doors every Sunday. It's them missionaries who has the hard +time. Oh, they're wonderful people. Parson John's a good man, but he ain't +in the same line with them nohow. He's too commonplace, an' don't stir the +people up." + +For a while Mrs. Stickles did not reply. She wiped her hands on her apron, +and crossing the room took down a small pot, put in a little tea, filled +it with water, and set it on the back of the stove to draw. Next she +brought forth some large frosted doughnuts, and after she had poured a cup +of tea for Mrs. McKrigger and one for herself she sat down upon an old +splint-bottomed chair. + +"Did I ever tell ye the conversation I had with Mr. Dale, that missionary +from Africy?" she at length asked. + +"No, I never heerd it," came the reply. + +"Well, that's queer, an' it happened only last summer, too. Ye see, we all +went to the missionary meetin' in the church, an' Mr. Dale told us about +that furren land. Somehow I didn't take to the man, an' I liked 'im less +as he went on. All the time he was speakin' I noted how eagerly Parson +John listened. Often his buzum heaved-like, an' I thought I heerd 'im +sigh. But when the speaker 'gun to compare Africy with Canada and Glendow, +I got mad. 'Here the work is small,' sez he; 'thar it's mighty! Here ye +hev yer hundreds; thar we hev our thousands. Here things is easy; thar +hard.' As he talked on that way I looked at the parson an' saw a pained +expression on his dear face. I jist longed to jump to me feet, an' pint +out that old grey-headed man a sittin' thar, an' tell a few things I know. +But I got me chance later." + +"What! ye didn't say anything hard, I hope?" interrupted Mrs. McKrigger. + +"Only the plain truth; jist what he needed. Ye see, me an' John was axed +into the Rectory afterwards to meet the missionary an' hev a cup of tea. +Mr. Dale did most of the talkin', an' told us a hull lot more about his +experiences in Africy. But somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He had +little use fer Canada, an' said so, an' that was mor'n I could stan'. + +"'Mr. Dale,' sez I, speakin' up, when his jaw stopped waggin' fer an +instant. 'Would ye be willin' to leave yer present field of labour?' + +"'No,' sez he, lookin' at me surprised-like.' + +"'An' why not,' sez I. + +"'Oh the work is so inspirin' out thar,' sez he. 'I'd about die in a--a--' +(I think he was goin' to say a country parish like this) but he said +'settled field whar the work is so quiet, ye know.' + +"'An' ye wouldn't be willin' to give up Africy,' sez I, 'fer a poor parish +like Glendow, if thar was no clergyman here?' + +"'No,' sez he, in a hesitatin' way, fer he didn't seem to know what I was +a drivin' at. + +"'Exactly so, Mr. Dale,' sez I. 'It takes a heap of spunk, I reckon, to go +to them furren fields, but I kalkerlate it often takes jist as much to +stay to hum, feed pigs, hens, an' look after a hull batch of children. +I've hearn men preach about sacryfice in big churches, but I generally +find that, when a poor country parish gits vacant, they don't seem +inclined to give up their rich churches an' step into a humbler place. Yet +sometimes I've heerd of sich men goin' to furren fields. An' why is that, +Mr. Dale?' + +"'That they might do more work fer the Master,' sez he. + +"'I think yer wrong thar,' sez I. 'Now, look here. To enter a country +parish is to be almost unknown, an' people say, 'Oh, he's only a country +parson,' an' they stick up their ugly noses, which they think are +acristocat. But let a man go to a furren field, an', my lands! they +blubber over 'im an' make a great fuss. If he combs the head of a little +nigger brat out thar in Africy--though no doubt he needs it--why the +missionary magazines an' papers are full of it. If he pulls the tooth of +an old Injun chief who has a dozen wives taggin' around after 'im, the +people hold up thar hands in wonder, an' call 'im a hero. But let a man +stay at hum in a parish like Glendow, an' no one hears of his doin's, +cause they don't want to.'" + +"My! ye didn't say all that?" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, "an' to a rale +live missionary, too." + +"Them's the exact words I said, an' them ain't all," rattled on Mrs. +Stickles. "I had me tongue on 'im then, an' it did me good to see his +face. He looked once towards the door as if he thought I'd jump at 'im. +Oh, it was as good as a circus to see 'im shake," and she laughed at the +recollection of it. + +"'Remember,' sez I, 'I ain't got nuthin' agin furren missions, fer they do +a heap of good. But I would like to see things levelled up a bit. If I git +down on me knees an' scrub the floor, it's nuthin' thought of. But if a +missionary does it, a great fuss is made. When Parson John is dug out of +snow-banks every week, when his sleigh gits upsot an' throws 'im into the +ditch, no one outside the parish ever hears of it. But let sich things +happen to a furren missionary, an', my lands! it's wonderful.' + +"I could see all the time that Mr. Dale was gittin' excited an' excititer. + +"'Woman,' sez he in a lofty kind of way, which reminded me of a young +rooster tryin' to crow, 'do ye realize what yer talkin' about? Do ye know +yer treadin' on delicate ground?' + +"'Yes,' sez I, 'when I tread on a man's toes, it's purty delicate ground.' + +"'I don't mean that,' sez he. 'But do ye know that _I'm_ a +missionary, an' do ye know what it means to be away from hum seven years, +away in a furren land?' + +"'Yes,' sez I. 'It means a holiday of a hull year at the end, with yer +salary goin' on, an' yer travellin' expenses paid. D'ye think, Mr. Dale, +that the parson here ever gits sich a holiday? Y'bet yer life he doesn't. +He's been here workin' like a slave fer over thirty years now, an' in all +that time _he_ never had a holiday.' + +"At that the parson himself speaks up. 'I think yer wrong thar, Mrs. +Stickles,' sez he. 'I had two hull weeks once, fer which I've allus been +most thankful.' + +"'An what are two weeks?' sez I. 'An' didn't ye pay yer own travellin' +expenses?' + +"'Yes,' sez he, 'I did.' + +"'Thar now,' sez I to Mr. Dale. 'What d'ye think of that? Two weeks in +over thirty years of hard work!' But that reminds me of somethin' else-- +an', sez I, 'Who pays yer salary, Mr. Dale? D'ye mind tellin' me that?' + +"'The Mission Board' sez he. + +"'An' do ye git it reglar?' sez I. + +"'Every month,' sez he. + +"'I thought so,' sez I. 'An' d'ye think the parson here gits his every +month?' + +"'I don't know,' sez he. 'But s'pose he does.' + +"'Not by a long chalk,' sez I. 'He has to wait months an' months fer it, +an' sometimes he doesn't git it at all, an' then has to take hay an' oats, +or do without. I know that to be a fact. Old skinflint Reeker over thar +owed two dollars one year to the church, an' he wondered how in the world +he was to git out of payin' it. Durin' the summer a Sunday-school picnic +was held on his place back in his grove, an' fer one of the games the +parson cut down four little beeches about as big as canes. Thar was +thousands of 'em growin' around, an' wasn't worth a postage-stamp. But old +Reeker saw 'im cut 'em, an' the next day he went to the parson an' told +'im how vallable the beeches was--his fancy trees or somethin' like that-- +an' charged 'im fifty cents a piece, the amount he owed to the church. +"Wasn't that so, Parson?" sez I, turnin' to 'im.' + +"'Yes, yes,' sez he. 'But it ain't worth speakin' about now. I think we +had better have our cup of tea, an' talk no more about the subject.'" + +"Dear, good man," and Mrs. Stickles wiped her eyes with the corner of her +apron. "He was kinder upsot at what I said. But not so, Nellie. Her sweet +face jist beamed on me, an' when I went out into the kitchen to help her +she put her arms about me old neck, an' gave me a good big thumpin' kiss. +That's what she did." + +Scarcely had Mrs. Stickles ended, ere bells were heard outside. + +"Why, I declare, if Abraham ain't back already!" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, +rising to her feet and donning her hat and wraps. "He's made a quick trip. +I'm very grateful, indeed I am, fer the cup of tea an' the pleasant time +I've had. Ye must come to see me as soon as ye kin." + +Mrs. Stickles stood for some time at the window watching the McKriggers +driving away. She was thinking deeply, and a plan was being evolved in her +mind which made her forget her washing and the various household duties. +At length she turned and entered the room where her husband and little +Ruth were lying. + +"John," she said, after she had related to him what Mrs. McKrigger had +told her about Farrington and the petition, "d'ye think you an' Ruthie +will mind if me an' Sammy go into the shore this afternoon with old +Queen?" + +"Why no, dear," was the reply. "But don't ye think the roads are too bad, +an' besides, what are ye thinkin' of?" + +"I don't mind the roads, John. They're purty well smashed down by now, an' +Queen's very stidy. I've a plan, John, which comes right from me insides," +and leaning over she whispered it into his ear. + +"Land sakes, dear!" replied her husband. "D'ye think ye kin manage it? +Will they listen to ye? Ye're only a woman, remember, an' what kin a woman +do?" + +"Yes, I'm only a woman, John, an' mebbe 'tain't a woman's place. But when +men are too scart an' heven't as much spunk as a chicken jist outer the +shell, what else is thar to do? Is thar no one in the hull parish to stan' +up fer the Lord's anointed? Tell me that. Didn't that beautiful Queen +Ester stan' before her crank of a husband, Hazen Hearus, an' plead fer the +lives of her people? An' didn't Jael do the Lord's will when she put old +Sirseree outer the way, tell me that? Now, I ain't a queen like Ester, an' +I hope I ain't a woman like Jael that 'ud drive a nail through a man's +head. I'm jist plain old Marthy Stickles, but mebbe I kin do somethin' fer +the Lord, even if I ain't purty or clever." + +An hour later an old, lean horse fastened to a homemade pung was wending +its way slowly along the road leading to the river. Holding the reins was +Sammy, a queer little figure, wrapped from head to foot, bravely +maintaining his precarious position on six inches of the end of the board +seat. Towering above him, broad-shouldered and ponderous, sat Mrs. +Stickles, the very embodiment of health and strength. + +"Sammy," said she, as the sled lurched along the rough road, "I don't like +this bizness. But when the Lord's work's to be did, somebody's got to set +his face like flint, as the Bible sez, an' do it. Don't ye ever fergit +that, Sammy. Don't ye ever disremember that yer ma told ye." + + + + +Chapter XIX + +The Sting + + +The buzz of gossip once more filled the air of Glendow. This last affray +between Parson John and Farrington and the part Nellie had taken gave +greater scope to the numerous busy tongues. Up and down the shore road and +throughout the back settlements the news travelled. It was discussed at +the store, the blacksmith shop, the mill, and in the homes at night, +wherever a few were gathered together. The Fletchers had never been idle +since the night of old Billy's death. They stirred up others by various +stories and conjectures, fashioned in their own suspicious minds. "Why," +they asked, "did not the parson explain about that money he paid down for +the Frenelle homestead? How was it that a poor country parson was able to +buy such a farm? They were further incensed by an incident which happened +several weeks after the auction. Tom Fletcher was determined that he would +question the parson some day, in the presence of others. He prided himself +upon his keenness of observation and shrewdness in detecting a guilty +manner in those whom he suspected of wrong-doing. The first opportunity he +seized when he met the parson at the blacksmith shop, waiting for his +horse to be shod. + +"Well, Parson, are ye goin' to sell the farm?" he asked in a sort of +careless manner. + +"What farm?" was the reply. + +"Oh, the Frenelle place." + +"No; it's not for sale." + +"Well, is that so? Money's tight these times, an' I thought mebbe ye'd he +glad to get rid of it." + +"No. I'm not anxious to do so." + +"But, isn't it a heap of money to be tied up in one place? Mebbe ye'd give +us a hint how ye manage to do it. It's as much as us poor farmers kin do +to live, let alone put four thousand in a place which we don't intend to +use!" + +Tom tipped a wink to several others in the shop, as much as to say, "Now, +I've cornered him. Watch for the fun." Parson John saw the wink, and drew +himself suddenly up. He realized that the man was drawing him out for some +purpose, and it was as well to check him first as last. + +"Tom, do you mind," he asked, "if I put one question to you?" + +"Why, certainly not. Drive ahead." + +"It's concerning that Widow Tompkins' place. Perhaps you will tell us how +you got control of it? Such a thing doesn't happen every day." + +Across Tom's face spread an angry flush, while a half-suppressed laugh was +heard from the bystanders. All knew very well that Tom had cheated the +widow out of her property, though no one ever had the courage to mention +it to him before. + +"What do you mean by that question?" demanded Fletcher. + +"It's a simple one, though, is it not?" the parson quietly responded. "It +naturally makes us curious." + +"Then I'll not satisfy such d---- curiosity. I tend my own affairs, an' I +ax others to do the same." + +"That's just the point, Tom," and the parson looked him square in the +eyes. "You wish to be let alone with your business, and so do I. You don't +wish to satisfy idle curiosity with your affairs, and neither do I. So we +are quits." + +This incident only caused the Fletchers to hate the parson more than ever. +Their greatest ally was Farrington. He was a man of considerable means, +and to have his support meant much. Never before was he known to be so +liberal to the people who came to his store. Often he invited them into +his house to sup with him, and then the grievances and election matters +were thrashed out. Occasionally when a farmer came to make purchases, +Farrington would see that a present was bestowed in the form of a piece of +calico for the wife, or some candy for the children. This was done +especially when Farrington was not sure of his man. He was playing his +part, not only stirring up these men against the man of God, but also +ingratiating himself into their good wishes against the day of the +election. When Farrington entered the field as a candidate for the County +Council, he knew he would have a hard struggle against his opponent, +Philip Gadsby, who was a man much respected, and had occupied the position +of councillor with considerable credit for two terms. The storekeeper had +been hard at work for some time with no visible success, for the +Farrington family with their high-flown ideas were much disliked by the +quiet, humble-minded folk of Glendow. The idea, therefore, of him being +Ifteir representative was at first abhorrent to most of the people. But +this new ruse of Farrington's was proving most successful. The Fletchers +drew with them all the loud-talking and undesirable element of Glendow. +This Farrington well knew, and by espousing their cause he was greatly +strengthening his own. The election day was only a few weeks off, so +Farrington and his party had no time to lose. + +During all this buzz of gossip, Parson John, the man most vitally +concerned, was perfectly oblivious of the disturbance. Of a most +unsuspecting nature, and with rot a particle of guile in his honest heart, +he could not imagine anyone harming him by word or deed. Happy in his +work, happy in the midst of his flock, and with Ms pleasant little home +guarded by his bright housekeeper, he had no thought of trouble. To his +eyes the sky was clear. His humble daily tasks brought him comfort through +the day, and sweet, undisturbed rest by night. + +But with Nellie it was different. She heard what her father did not. +Fragments of gossip drifted to her ears, which paled her cheek and set her +heart beating fast. Occasionally Dan bore her news he had picked up at the +store, or from the boys of the neighbourhood, who were not slow in talking +of the things they had heard from their elders. Nellie longed to tell her +father, that he might he able to answer some of the charges which were +made. Several times had she determined to do so. But when she had looked +upon his calm face, noted his white hair, and gazed into his clear, +unsuspecting eyes, her resolution always took wings and disappeared. Then +she would surprise her father by twining her arms about his neck and +giving him a loving kiss. + +Two weeks had now passed since the accident, and Parson John was rapidly +improving. Two Sundays had he missed from church, something which had +happened but once before in his long ministry in the parish. Winter was +passing, and signs of spring were beginning to be seen and felt. The snow +was steadily disappearing from the hills, and the fresh, balmy air drifted +gently in from the south with its exhilarating influence. + +It was Saturday night, and Parson John was looking forward to the morrow, +when he could take his accustomed place at the parish church. He and +Nellie were sitting quietly in the little room, when Mr. Larkins entered +with the mail. The postman had met with an accident on the icy road, and +was several hours behind time. Usually Dan went to the office, but on this +occasion Mr. Larkins was down to the store, and had brought along the mail +for both families. + +"Letters for us!" Nellie exclaimed as Mr. Larkins entered. "Oh, how good +of you to bring them!" + +"Stay, stay," insisted the parson, as the worthy neighbour was about to +retire and leave them to the enjoyment of their letters. "You have not had +a whiff with me for a long time, and here is a new church-warden waiting +to be broken in." + +"But, I shall interrupt you," Mr. Larkins replied. + +"No, no, not in the least." + +"Well, then, I agree to remain for one smoke, if you will promise that you +will read your letters, and not mind me. I see a new magazine on the table +which looks very tempting." + +Ensconced in a large easy-chair, he was soon deeply immersed in the +fascinating pages, at the same time endeavouring to enjoy the long +"church-warden," which was not altogether to his taste. Silence reigned in +the room, broken only by the cutting of envelopes and the occasional +rattle of the letters. + +Mr. Larkins was startled by a sudden cry of astonishment, and looking +quickly up he saw the parson sitting erect in his chair, clutching a sheet +of paper in both hands, and staring at it in a dazed manner. Nellie at +once sprang to his side to ascertain the cause of the commotion. + +"Look! Look!" he cried, thrusting the paper into her hand. "It's from the +Bishop! Read it, quick, and tell me what it means! Am I losing my senses, +or is this only a dream, or a joke?" + +Although Nellie's face was pale as she sprang to her father's side, it +went white as death as she quickly scanned the missive, drinking in almost +intuitively every word and its meaning. Then, flinging it aside with an +impatient gesture, she placed her arms about her father's neck, and tried +to soothe him. + +"Father, father, dear, never mind," she pleaded. But her voice faltered, +and she simply clung to him like a tender vine to some sturdy oak. + +"Girl! girl!" demanded the parson, "what does it mean? Do you know +anything? Tell me, quick!" + +"Father, father," urged the maiden, "calm yourself. Don't get so excited." + +"But, do you know anything about this? Tell me at once!" + +"Yes---" + +"Yes, what? Don't stop. Go on," and the old man leaned forward so as not +to miss a single word. + +"Oh, father, give me time," sobbed Nellie. "I will explain all. What will +Mr. Larking think?" + +"True, true. What will he think?" and the parson turned towards his +visitor. + +"You will pardon me, sir, for acting so strangely. But I am much upset. +There, please, read this. A letter from my Bishop, full of the most +remarkable utterances a man ever wrote. My people turned against me! My +people charging me with being a common thief! No, no! It cannot be true! +Read it--read it for yourself," and with a trembling hand he passed over +the letter. + +"My dear Westmore," so began the epistle. "What is the trouble between you +and your parishioners in Glendow? I have recently received a petition +signed by twenty of your people asking for your removal, on the following +grounds: + +"_First_. That you are too old to do the work; that many parts of the +parish are being neglected, and that a young man should take your place, +who will be able to hold the flock together. + +"_Second_. That you alone attended the deathbed of an old man, +William Fletcher by name, who was possessed of a considerable sum of +money, all in gold. The money, it is well known, was always kept in the +house in a strong, iron box. The night you attended him the house was +burned to the ground, but no trace of the money has since been found. Even +at the time you were suspected by some, as it was well known you were much +involved in some mining transactions out in British Columbia and badly in +need of money to carry on the work. But not until shortly after the fire, +when at a public auction you purchased a large homestead and paid down the +amount, four thousand dollars, in cash, did the whole parish suspect that +something was radically wrong. + +"_Third_. That on your way to attend a funeral at Craig's Corner on a +recent Sunday, you engaged in a horse-race with one, Tim Fraser, a most +notorious character. + +"Such in brief is the purport of the petition which now lies before me, +and I am asked not only to remove you, but to make a thorough +investigation concerning the whole affair. I am much grieved at this +matter, and cannot understand it at all. You have ever been looked upon as +a faithful priest in the Church of God, and I believe you will be able to +explain everything to the satisfaction of all. At first I thought it well +that you should write to me. On second consideration, however, I think it +better to make a visit to Glendow, and see if the matter cannot be quietly +settled. I do not wish this trouble to get abroad or into the newspapers. +I wish to have the people of the parish come before me, one by one, that I +may hear what they have to say, and thus be in a better position to form a +sound judgment. I have written the petitioners to this effect, and have +told them that I shall be in the vestry of the church next Thursday, +morning and afternoon, to hear what they have to say. I have also written +to your wardens--whose names, by the way, do not appear on the petition-- +stating the case, that they may give due notice throughout the parish." + +Silently Mr. Larkins returned the letter, not knowing what to say. + +"What does it all mean?" questioned the parson, looking keenly into his +neighbour's face. "Am I only dreaming, or is it a joke?" + +"Neither, father, dear," Nellie replied, taking a seat near his side, and +tenderly clasping his hand, which was trembling with excitement. "It is +all real, ah, too real! The people have been saying these things." + +"What, girl! Do you mean to tell me that these things have been talked +about ever since the night of the fire?" demanded the parson. + +"Yes, father, some have been saying them." + +"And you knew about these stories, Nellie?" + +"Y--yes, some of them." + +"And you never said a word to me! Never gave me a hint of warning, but let +me remain in ignorance the whole of this time!" + +"We thought it was for the best, father. Don't get angry with me. I +suppose I should have told you, but I thought the gossip would soon +cease." + +"You thought so, did you! Girl, I didn't think you would deceive me--your +father, in his old age! Have all my friends turned against me? Yes, yes, +and even she, of my flesh and blood--the darling of my heart for whom I +would die! God help me!" + +"Father, father, dear! don't talk that way," pleaded Nellie. "You will +break my heart. You don't know what I have suffered. Day and night the +trouble has been with me. I loved you so much that I wished to spare you +the worry. I thought it was for the best, but now I see I should have told +you. You have friends, true and tried, who do not believe a word of these +charges." + +The parson who had been gazing straight before him, rested his eyes upon +his daughter weeping by his side. His face softened, and the old look +returned. + +"Forgive me, darling," he said, placing his arm tenderly about her. "I +have wronged you and all my dear friends. But, oh, the blow is so sudden! +I hardly know what to think. What can I do?" + +For over an hour they sat there and discussed the matter. As Mr. Larkins +at length rose to go, he looked into Parson John's face so drawn and +white, and almost cursed the wretches who had brought such trouble upon +that hoary head. + + + + +Chapter XX + +The Overseer + + +The service at the parish church Sunday morning was largely attended. Word +had spread rapidly that the Bishop would arrive during the week, and it +was confidently expected that the parson would touch on the question from +the pulpit. + +"Guess we'll git something to-day," one man remarked to another, near the +church door. + +"Y'bet," was the brief response. + +"D'ye think the parson will say anything about old Billy?" + +"Mebbe he will, an' mebbe he won't." + +"But I think he will. The parson likes to hit from the pulpit when no one +kin hit back." + +"Is that what brought you to church to-day? You seldom darken the door." + +"Sure! What else should I come fer? I'm not like you, Bill Flanders, +wearin' out me shoes paddin' to church every Sunday. I kin be jist as good +a Christian an' stay at home. I kin read me Bible an' say me prayers +there." + +"I'm not denying that, Bill, but the question is, Do ye? I reckon ye never +open yer Bible or say yer prayers either fer that matter. If you were in +the habit of doin' so you never would hev signed that petition to the +Bishop." + +"Well, I'm not alone in that. There's Farrington, a church member an' a +communicant, who headed the list, an' if he----" + +"Hold, right there, Bill. Farrington never signed that paper." + +"Yes, he did." + +"But, I say, he didn't. He promised to do so, but jist after he sent it +away he made a fuss an' said that he had fergotten to do it." + +"Ye don't say so!" and Bill's eyes opened wide with surprise. "But are ye +sure?" + +"Sartin. I had it from Tom Fletcher himself, who feels rather sore about +it. It is well known that Farrington wanted the parson removed on the plea +of old age, but didn't want that clause in about Billy's death. The +Fletchers insisted, however, an' in it went." + +"The devil! Well, it's queer, I do declare." + +Just then the bell rang out its last call, and they entered the church +with others. + +Parson John looked greyer than usual as he conducted the service and stood +at the lectern to read the Lessons. But his voice was as sweet and musical +as ever, though now a note of pathos could be detected. His step was slow +and feeble as he mounted the pulpit, and a yearning look came into his +face as he glanced over the rows of heads before him. + +"Remember my bonds," was the text he took this morning, and without a note +to guide him, he looked into the numerous faces, and delivered his brief +message. A breathless silence pervaded the sanctuary as he proceeded to +draw a picture of St. Paul, the great champion of the faith, in his old +age enduring affliction, and appealing to his flock to remember his bonds. +The arm of the parson still in the sling, and the knowledge the people had +of the reports circulated about him, added much to the intense +impressiveness of the scene. For about fifteen minutes he spoke in a +clear, steady voice. Then his right hand clutched the top of the pulpit, +while his voice sank and faltered. "Brethren," he said, straightening +himself up with an effort, "St. Paul had his bonds, which were hard for +him to bear; the bond of suffering, the bond of loneliness, and the bond +of old age. You, too, have bonds, and will have them. But how sweet to +know that your friends and loved ones will remember your bonds, will +understand your sufferings, peculiarities, and will sympathize with you, +and be considerate. I, too, have bonds: the bond of unfitness for my great +work, and the bond of old age. These two shackle and impede me in the +Master's cause. But I ask you to think not so much of these as of another +which binds me soul and body--it is the bond of love. I look into your +faces this morning, and think of the many years I have laboured among you +in evil report and good report. I have learned to love you, and now that +love is my greatest bond, for it enwraps my very heart. When parents see +their darling child turn against them, their love to him is the hardest +bond to bear, because they cannot sever it. They remember him as a babe in +arms, as a little, clinging, prattling child. They think of what they have +done and suffered for his sake and how the cord of love has been silently +woven through the years. My love to you is my greatest bond, and, though +some may grow cold, some may scoff, and some repudiate, never let the lips +of any say that your rector, your old grey-headed pastor, now in his +fourth and last watch, ever ceased in his love to his little flock." + +There was a diversity of opinion among the listeners to these pathetic +words, which was quite noticeable as the congregation filed out of the +church. The eyes of some were red, showing the intensity of their emotion, +while others shone with a scornful light. + +"The parson fairly upset me to-day!" blurted out one burly fellow. "I +heven't been so moved sense the day I laid me old mother to rest in the +graveyard over yonder." + +"Upset, did ye say?" replied another, turning suddenly upon him. "What was +there to upset ye in that?" + +"Why, the way the parson spoke and looked." + +"Umph! He was only acting his part. He was trying to work upon our +feelings, that was all. Ah, he is a cute one, that. Did ye hear what he +said about the bond of love? Ha, ha! That's a good joke." + +There was one, however, who felt the words more deeply than all the +others. This was Nellie, who sat straight upright in her pew, and watched +her father's every movement. She did not shed a tear, but her hands were +firmly clasped in her lap and her face was as pale as death. As soon as +the service was over she hurried into the vestry, helped her father off +with his robes, and then supported his feeble steps back to the Rectory. +She made no reference to the sermon, but endeavoured to divert her +father's mind into a different channel. She set about preparing their +light midday repast, talked and chatted at the table, and exhibited none +of the heaviness which pressed upon her heart. Only after she had coaxed +her father to lie down, and knew that he had passed into a gentle sleep, +did she give way to her pent-up feelings. How her heart did ache as she +sat there alone in the room, and thought of her father standing in the +pulpit uttering those pathetic words. + +Thursday, the day of the investigation, dawned bright and clear. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air. It was one of those balmy spring days when +it is good to be out-of-doors drinking in freshness and strength. + +The Bishop had arrived the night before, and had taken up his abode at the +Rectory. About ten o'clock the following morning, he wended his way to the +church, there to await the people of Glendow. Some time elapsed before any +arrived, and not until the afternoon did most of them come. Tom Fletcher +was among the first, and at once he made his way into the vestry, and +confronted the Bishop. + +The latter was a small-sized man, clean shaven, and with his head adorned +with a mass of white, wavy hair. His face and massive forehead bore the +stamp of deep intellectuality. He was noted as a writer of no mean order, +having produced several works dealing with church questions, full of +valuable historic research. His every movement bespoke a man of great +activity and devotion in his high office. His eyes were keen and +searching, while his voice was sharp and piercing. "Sharp as a razor," +said several of his careless clergy. Merciless and scathing in reference +to all guile, sham and hypocrisy, he was also a man of intense feeling, +sympathetic, warm-hearted, and a friend well worth having. + +He was poring over certain church registers as Tom Fletcher entered, and, +glancing quickly up, noted at once the man standing before him. He rose to +his feet, reached out his hand to Fletcher and motioned him to a chair. + +"Fletcher is your name, you say--Tom Fletcher," and the Bishop ran his +eyes over several lists of names before him. + +"Yes, sir, that's my name." + +"You signed the petition, I see." + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, you must know about these charges which are made against your +rector. Now, as regards the first. It states here that he is neglecting +certain parts of the parish. Is that true?" + +"I understand so." + +"Where?" + +"Oh, I hear he hasn't been to Hazel Greek an' Landsdown Corner fer over +two years." + +"Any other place?" + +"No, I guess them's the only two, but it seems to me to be a purty serious +matter fer sich places to be neglected so long." + +"Ah, I see," and the Bishop looked keenly into Tom's face. + +"You're not a vestryman, Mr. Fletcher?" he remarked. + +"No, never was one." + +"Did you ever attend an Easter Monday meeting?" + +"No, never had time." + +"Do you take a church paper?" + +"Should say not. Much as I kin do is to pay fer the newspaper." + +"But, of course, you read the Synod Journal, which is freely distributed. +It contains each year a report from this parish." + +"Yes, I read it sometimes, but there isn't much to interest me in that." + +"But surely, Mr. Fletcher, you must have read there that Hazel Creek and +Landsdown Corner were cut off from Glendow over two years ago, and added +to the adjoining parish, and are now served by the rector of Tinsborough. +They are more accessible to him, and the change has been a good one." + +"What! Ye don't tell me!" and Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I +never knew that before. The parson never said a word about it." + +"Did you ever ask him? Or did you inquire why he never went to those +places?" + +"No. I thought----" + +"I don't want to know what you thought," and the Bishop turned sharply +upon him. "Explanations are not needed now. You have proven conclusively +that you know nothing about the church affairs in this parish, and care +less. According to these registers I find that you never come to Communion +and never contribute one cent to the support of the church. But we will +let that pass, and consider the next charge made here." + +"What, about Uncle Billy?" + +"Yes. You know the charge made, and as you signed the petition you must +have some substantial proof to bring forth." + +Tom twisted uneasily on the chair and twirled his hat in his hands. He was +mad at the way the Bishop had cornered him, and at what he had said. But +he was also afraid of this man who knew so much and seemed to read his +inmost thoughts. He began to dread the questions which he knew would come, +and longed to be out of the vestry. He was not feeling so sure of himself +and wished he had stayed away. + +"The second charge made here," continued the Bishop, "is of a most serious +nature. It is to the effect that your rector stole the gold from William +Fletcher the night the house was burned, and used some of it to buy a +farm. Is that what it means?" + +"I--I--don't know," Tom stammered, now on his guard, and not wishing to +commit himself. + +"But you should know," the Bishop insisted. "You signed the paper, and I +ask you what it means, then?" + +"The gold is gone, sir, an' the parson was the only one there with Uncle +Billy. Besides, where did he git all of that money?" + +"But that's no proof. I want facts, and I expect you to give me some." + +"That's all I know," was the surly response. + +"And upon the strength of that suspicion you signed this paper?" + +"Yes." + +"And you would swear that you know nothing definite?" + +"Y--yes--that's all I know." + +The Bishop remained silent for a short time, musing deeply. + +"Do you know," he at length remarked, "that you have put yourself in a +very awkward position?" + +"How's that?" + +"You have virtually said that Mr. Westmore stole that gold. If you cannot +prove your statements you have laid yourself open to prosecution for +defamation of character. Your rector, if he wished, could bring in a +charge against you of a most serious nature." + +"I never thought of that." + +"No, I know you didn't. You may go now, but remember the position in which +you have placed yourself." + +Tom waited to hear no more. He fairly sprang to the door, his face dark +and frightened. He spoke to no one, neither did he notice the sturdy form +of Mrs. Stickles standing there waiting to be admitted into the vestry. + +The Bishop looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Stickles entered. She +always proved the dominating factor wherever she went, and what her size +could not accomplish was well supplied by her marvellous tongue. The +Bishop winced as she seized his hand in a vise-like grip. + +"It's real glad I am to set me eyes on ye," she exclaimed. "I heven't seen +ye in a dog's age, an' I'm mighty pleased ye look so well. How did ye +leave the missus, bless her dear heart? My, I'm all het up, the church is +so hot," and she bounced down upon the chair Fletcher had recently +vacated. + +The Bishop's eyes twinkled, and his care-worn face brightened perceptibly. +His exalted position made him a lonely man. There was so much deference +paid to him. People as a rule were so reserved in his presence, and showed +a longing to be away. "Many people desire a high office," he had once +said, "but very few realize the responsibility and loneliness it entails. +So much is expected of a Bishop, and his slightest words and acts are +criticized. I often envy humble workmen, smoking and chatting together. +They have many things in common. They may say what they like, and much +heed is not given to their remarks." + +It was therefore most refreshing to have this big-hearted woman seated +before him acting and talking so naturally, without the least restraint, +the same as if she were in her own house. + +"You have come, I suppose," said the Bishop, "in connection with this +petition," and he pointed to the paper lying on the table. + +"Oh, that's the thing, is it?" asked Mrs. Stickles, as she leaned forward +to get a better view. "Be very keerful of it, Mr. Bishop. Don't scratch it +or bring it too close to the fire." + +"Why, what do you mean?" asked the Bishop. + +"What do I mean? Don't ye know that's the work of the devil, an' there's +enough brimstone in that paper to burn us up in a jiffy. It's soaked +through an' through, so I advise ye to handle it keerful." + +"So you think these charges in this petition are not true? What can you +say to the contrary, then?" + +"What kin I say to be contrary? I kin say a good deal, an', indeed, I hev +said a good deal. When I heered about that pertition my buzum jist swelled +like the tail of an old cat when a hull bunch of yelpin' curs git after +her. But I didn't sit down an' weep an' wring me hands. No, sir, not a bit +of it. Me an' Sammy went to them in authority, an' sez I to them +church-wardens, sez I, 'will ye let that old parson, the Lord's anointed, +be imposed upon by them villains?'" + +"'What kin we do?' sez they. + +"'Do!' sez I.' Do what the Lord intended ye to do, fight. Didn't the Holy +Apostle say, 'Quit ye like men, be strong?' 'Git up a pertition,' sez I, +'an' git every decent, honest man in Glendow to sign it, an' send it to +the Bishop. Tell 'im?' sez I,' that the parson isn't neglectin' his parish +an' that yez hev full confidence in 'im.' + +"'We don't like to do it,' sez they. + +"'Why not?' sez I. + +"'We don't like to stir up strife,' sez they. ''Tisn't good to hev a +disturbance in the church. We're men of peace.' + +"'Peace,' sez I, 'an' let the devil win? That's not the trouble. Yer +afeered, that's what's the matter. Yer too weak-kneed, an' hain't got as +much backbone as an angle worm.' That's what I said to 'em, right out +straight, too. Now kin ye tell me, Mr. Bishop, why the Lord made some +people men instead of makin' 'em chickens fer all the spunk they've got?" + +"But, Mrs. Stickles," replied the Bishop, who had been staring in +amazement at the torrent of words, "what has this to do with the question +before us?" + +"I'm comin' to that, sir, only I wanted to tell ye my persition. When I +found that them in authority wouldn't make the start, I concluded that the +Lord meant me to do the work. So me an' Sammy an' our old horse Queen +travelled up an' down the parish fer three solid days, with this result," +and, drawing a paper from a capacious pocket, she laid it on the table. +"Thar 'tis, read it fer yerself, an' jedge." + +The Bishop's eyes grew a little misty as he read the words written there, +and noted the long list of names testifying to the worthiness of the +rector of Glendow. + +"Mrs. Stickles," he at length remarked, and his voice was somewhat husky, +"the Lord will reward you for what you have done. While others have been +simply talking, you have been acting. Like that woman of old, you have +done what you could, and this deed of love, believe me, will be remembered +in the parish of Glendow for generations to come. You may go now; you have +done your part." + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Decision + + +With his chair drawn tip close to the window, Parson John watched the +people as they moved along the road to and from the church. He recognized +them all, and knew them by their horses when some distance away. As +clothes betray a person when his face is not observable, so do horses and +sleighs on a country road. They seem to be vital parts of the owners, and +to separate them would be fatal. No one could imagine Mrs. Stickles seated +in a finely-upholstered sleigh and driving a high-mettled horse. She and +Sammy, the home-made pung and the old lean mare plodding onward, were +inseparably connected with the parish of Glendow. The parson's face +brightened as he saw this quaint conveyance shaking along the road. In +Mrs. Stickles he knew he would have one champion at least, though all the +others should turn against him. Team after team he watched, but none +turned aside into the Rectory gate to say a word to the old grey-headed +man, sitting before the window. + +The hours dragged slowly by, and still he sat there. Nellie went quietly +about her household duties, but a great weight kept pressing upon her +heart. Her father was so quiet, took no interest in his books, and did no +writing. Often she would stop and watch him as he sat there. He seemed to +be greyer than usual; his head was more bent, and his face wore a sad, +pained expression. "If he would only utter some word of complaint," +thought Nellie, "it would not be so hard. But to see that dumb, appealing +look is almost more than I can bear." + +Though very quiet, Parson John was fighting a hard, stern battle. His eyes +were often turned towards the road, but his thoughts were mostly upon +other things. Over his desk hung two pictures, and occasionally his gaze +rested upon these. One was that of a sweet-faced woman, who looked down +upon him with gentle, loving eyes-such eyes as Nellie inherited. + +"Ruth, Ruth," he murmured, "my darling wife. Thirty-five years since I +brought you here as a fair young bride. Thirty-five years! We knew not +then what lay before us. We knew not then how one must walk for years by +himself and at last tread the wine-press alone." + +His eyes drifted to the other picture hanging there--the Master kneeling +alone in Gethsemane. Long he looked upon that prostrate figure with the +upturned face. He thought of His agony in the Garden, the betrayal, +desertion and suffering. "I have trodden the winepress alone," he softly +whispered as into his face came a new light of peace and strength. Opening +a well-worn volume lying on the desk he read again that Garden scene, when +the Master knelt and fought His terrible battle. Forgotten for a brief +space were his own trials as he pored over that sacred page. How often had +he read that story, and meditated upon every word, but never before did he +realize the full significance of the scene. "Wonderful, wonderful," he +murmured again, as he reverently closed the Book. "Thank God--oh, thank +God for that life of suffering and sorrow! He knows our human needs. He +trod the winepress alone, and must I, His unworthy servant, expect to +escape? So, my Father, do with me what is best. 'Not my will, but Thine be +done.'" + +At this moment Nellie entered the room. She noticed the changed expression +upon her father's face, and, crossing to where he was, stood by his side. + +"Do you feel better, father?" she asked. + +"Yes, dear. My heart was very heavy a short time ago, but it is lighter +now. I seem to see my way more clearly. The darkness has passed, and a new +peace has come to me. Will you sing something for me, dearie?" + +"Certainly, father. What shall it be?" + +"Your mother's favorite hymn. The one she sang just before she left us." + +Taking her seat at the little harmonium, Nellie gently touched the keys, +and in a clear, sweet voice sang the old favourite hymn: + + "The sands of Time are sinking, + The dawn of Heaven breaks, + The summer morn I've sighed for. + The fair, sweet morn awakes. + Dark, dark has been the midnight, + But dayspring is at hand, + And glory, glory dwelleth + In Emmanuel's land." + +Softly she sang the whole hymn through, her father leaning back in his +chair with closed eyes, drinking in every word and sound. + + "I're wrestled on towards Heaven, + 'Gainst storm and wind and tide; + Lord, grant thy weary traveller + To lean on Thee as guide." + +"That's what I must do now, Nellie. 'Lean on Him as guide.' Oh, it gives +me such comfort. And He will guide right; we must never doubt that." + +When the Bishop had finished his investigation in the vestry, he sighed as +he closed his small grip and left the church. Slowly he walked up the road +lost in deep thought. There were numerous things which disturbed his mind. +He had listened to what the people had to say, but everything was so +vague. Yet there was some mystery, he believed, connected with the whole +matter. That missing gold, the Rector's need of money and then the +purchase of the farm were still shrouded in darkness. Thinking thus he +reached the Larkins' house where he had been invited to tea. + +"It will help Nellie to have the Bishop here," Mrs. Larkins had said to +her husband, "for she has enough care at the present time." + +Keenly she watched the Bishop's face as he came into the house, hoping to +obtain some clue to his thoughts. To her the trouble at the Rectory was as +her own, and she longed to know the outcome of the investigation. At first +she dreaded the thought of having the Bishop to tea. Had she not often +heard of his sharp, abrupt manner? Anxiously she scanned the tea-table, +with its spotless linen, with everything so neatly arranged, and wondered +what she had omitted. Her fears were soon dispelled, however, for the +Bishop made himself perfectly at home. It was a pleasure to him to sit at +the table with these two true, honest souls, of whom he had heard much +from Parson John. They were so natural, and made no effort to be what they +were not. + +"You must be tired, my Lord," said Mrs. Larkins, "after this trying day." + +"Not so much tired as puzzled," was the reply. + +"And did you get no light on the matter?" + +"Not a bit. Look at all those notes I took--not worth the paper on which +they are written. Everything is hearsay--nothing definite. And yet there +is some mystery attached to the whole affair. I am sorely puzzled about +that missing gold and where the Rector obtained the money to buy that +farm." + +"And didn't he tell you, my Lord?" asked Mrs. Larkins, pausing in the act +of pouring the tea. + +"No, he will not tell me. He is as silent as the grave. When I pressed him +to speak and thus clear himself, he begged me with tears in his eyes not +to urge him. 'It's honest money,' he said, 'which purchased the farm, but +I can tell you no more now.'" + +"You have heard, my Lord, that he is involved in some mining transaction +out in British Columbia. It is now in litigation and the parson is +contributing all be possibly can." + +"Yes, I learned of that to-day, and it only tends to complicate matters. I +cannot believe that your Rector had anything to do with that gold. But oh, +if he would only explain. Are you sure that that box is not still among +the ashes and ruins of the old house?" + +"I am certain it is not there," Mr. Larkins replied. "We have searched the +place thoroughly, and even sifted the ashes, but all in vain. Not a trace +could we find of the box or the gold." + +The evening was somewhat advanced as the Bishop bade the Larkins +good-night and made his way over to the Rectory. He found Parson John +seated in a deep chair, gazing silently before him. Nellie was sitting +near reading, or trying to read. She greeted the Bishop with a bright +smile, drew up a chair for him to the pleasant fire, and took his hat and +coat. + +"Have I kept you up, Nellie?" he asked. "Your father must be tired." + +"No, no, my Lord," she replied. "It is not late yet. But you must be +tired." + +"A little, my dear. The day has been somewhat trying." + +From the time he had entered Parson John had kept his eyes fixed full upon +the Bishop's face with a mute, questioning look which spoke louder than +words. "What have you found out?" He seemed to be saying. "What stories +have they been telling about me? Who have been my foes and friends?" + +"The vestry was converted into quite a court-room to-day," said the +Bishop, reading the questioning look in the parson's face. "There were +certainly several lively scenes, especially when Mrs. Stickles made her +appearance." + +"You have reached a conclusion then, I suppose?" and Mr. Westmore leaned +eagerly forward. + +"No, not yet. I cannot give my decision now. I want to think it carefully +over, and shall notify you by letter." + +"I thank you, my Lord, for the trouble you have taken in the matter," and +the parson resumed his former position. "But I have been thinking deeply +since hearing these reports concerning me, and my mind is made up as to +the course I shall pursue." + +"Indeed, and in what way?" queried the Bishop. + +"To-morrow morning I shall hand to you my resignation of this parish." + +The effect of these words was startling, and Nellie's face went very white +as she glanced quickly at her father. + +"Do you mean it?" inquired the Bishop. + +"Yes, my Lord. I have not come to this decision without much thought, +prayer, and struggle. I have been too blind. I forgot how old I am, though +God knows my heart is as young as ever. It's only natural that the people +of Glendow should desire a change; a man who will infuse new life into the +work, and draw in the wandering and indifferent ones. May God forgive me +that I did not think of it before!" + +His head drooped low as he uttered these words, and the pathos of his +voice denoted the intensity of his feelings. It was impossible not to be +much moved at the figure of this venerable man, this veteran warrior of +his church, without one word of complaint, willing to relinquish all, to +give up the command to another, that the Master's work might be +strengthened. The Bishop was visibly affected, although he endeavoured to +conceal his emotion. + +"Westmore," he replied, "I always believed you to be a noble man of God, +though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you +leave Glendow? How will you live?" + +"I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; +He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in +my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his +wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit. +We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will +open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere +He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six +months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid +of me." + +"Why not sell that farm you purchased?" suggested the Bishop. "It should +bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot +place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy +soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then." + +"I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible." + +"But you bought it; it is yours." + +"It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!" + +The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained +the Bishop from saying more on the subject. + +"And so you think you must go?" he remarked after a painful silence. + +"Yes, I see nothing else to do." + +"But remember all have not turned against you. See this list," and the +Bishop handed over the petition Mrs. Stickles had given him. + +Eagerly the parson read the words, and scanned the names scrawled below. + +"And did Mrs. Stickles do this?" he asked. + +"Yes. She went up and down the parish for three days." + +"God bless the woman!" murmured Mr. Westmore. "What a comfort this is to +me; to know that all have not deserted me. I did not expect it. But it +will not change my mind. My eyes have been suddenly opened to my own +inability to do the work. Another will do much better. I've explained +everything to you, my Lord, that I can explain, and about that horse-race, +too. It is better for me to go." + +"Father," said Nellie, "let us go to Uncle Reuben's for a month or so. You +need a rest, and a vacation will do you good. Perhaps then you will see +things differently." + +"Capital idea!" exclaimed the Bishop. "It's just the thing! Go to your +brother's and stay there for a month or two." + +"But what about the parish? It will be left vacant the whole of that time. +If I resign a new Rector can take charge at once." + +"Oh, I will arrange for that," responded the Bishop. "There is a young man +fresh from college who will be ordained shortly. I will send him here +during your absence. We will thus give the people a change, and then, no +doubt, they will be glad enough to have you back again." + +Parson John sat for some time in deep meditation, while Nellie watched him +with an anxious face. The clock in the room ticked loudly, and the fire +crackled in the hearth. + +"Very well," he assented at length with a deep sigh. "If you think it +best, my Lord, that this should be done I shall not oppose your wish. But +I am firmly convinced that it will be just the same as if I resigned. When +once the new man comes and begins the work, the people will not want their +old Rector back again. But, nevertheless, it will be all for the best. 'My +times are in His hands,' and I feel sure that ever 'underneath are the +Everlasting Arms.'" + + + + +Chapter XXII + +In the Deep of the Heart + + +It did not take long for the news of Parson John's intended departure to +spread throughout Glendow. + +Tongues were once more loosened and numerous conjectures made. + +"Guess the Bishop found things pretty crooked," remarked one, "an' thinks +it high time for the parson to get out." + +"I've thought the same myself," replied another. "The parson's been +dabblin' too much in furren affairs. As I was tellin' my missus last +night, we never know what will happen next. When them as is leaders goes +astray, what kin be expected of the sheep? I've given a bag of pertaters +each year to support the church, but dang me if I do it any more!" + +But while some saw only the dark side and believed the parson to be +guilty, there were others who stood nobly by him in his time of trial. +Various were the calls made, some people driving for miles to say +good-bye, and to express their regrets at his departure. + +Among the number was Mrs. Stickles. She was the first to arrive, and, +bustling out of the old broken-down wagon, she seized the parson's hand in +a mighty grip as he met her at the gate. + +"God bless ye, sir!" she ejaculated. "I'm more'n delighted to see ye. I +was on me knees scrubbin' the kitchen floor when Patsy Garlick dropped in +an' told me the news. It so overcome me that I flopped right down an' +bawled like a calf." + +"Dear me! dear me!" replied the Rector. "What's wrong? did you receive bad +news? I hope nothing's the matter with Tony." + +"Oh, no. I don't mean 'im, sir, though I ain't heered from 'im fer months +now. He's so shet up thar in the woods that it's hard to hear. But I feel +he's all right, fer if he wasn't I'd soon know about it. No, it's not fer +'im I bawled, but fer you an' the darlin' lass. To think that ye are to +leave us so soon!" + +"Oh, I see," and the parson placed his hand to his forehead. "Thank you +very much for your kindness, Mrs. Stickles, and for what you did +concerning that petition. So you have come all the way to bid us good-bye. +You must go into the house at once, and have a bite with us. I shall send +Dan to give the horse some hay." + +"Thank ye, sir. I didn't come expectin' to be taken in an' fed, but seein' +as it'll be some time afore I hev sich a privilege agin, I don't mind if I +do." + +Spring had now come in real earnest. The days were balmy, the sun poured +its bright rays upon hill and valley, and the snow disappeared as if by +magic. Thousands of streams and rivulets rushed racing down to the river, +sparkling and babbling, glad of their release from winter's stern grip. +The early birds had returned, filling the air with their sweet music, and +the trees, awakened from their long slumber, were putting forth their +green buds. Everything spoke of freshness and peace. + +But within the Rectory there was an unusual silence. A gloom pervaded the +house, which even Nellie's sunny presence could not dispel. Dan had +disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. He had departed in the +night so silently that even Nellie's ever-watchful ear did not hear his +footsteps upon the floor. They knew no reason why the lad should do such a +thing, and anxiously they discussed the matter over the breakfast-table. +Inquiries were made throughout the parish, which only served to set +tongues wagging more than ever. + +"I knew when the parson took him in," said one knowing person, "that +something 'ud happen. Ye can never tell about sich waifs. They generally +amount to nuthin' or worse." + +Nellie missed Dan very much. She had come to love the lad with all his +quaint ways and dreamy far-away look. He had always been so ready to do +anything for her, and often she found him watching her with wondering +eyes. In her heart she could not believe that the boy had run away because +he was tired of living at the Rectory. She felt sure there must be some +other reason, and often she puzzled her brain trying to solve the problem. + +As the days passed preparations were made for their departure. There was +much to do, for numerous things they must take with them. The parson took +but little interest in what was going on. He seemed to be living in +another world. So long had he lived at the Rectory that the building had +become almost a part of himself. How many sacred associations were +attached to each room! Here his children had been born; here he had +watched them grow, and from that front door three times had loving hands +borne forth three bodies,--two, oh, so young and tender--to their last +earthly resting-place in the little churchyard. In youth it is not so hard +to sever the bonds which unite us to a loved spot. They have not had time +fully to mature, and new associations are easily made and the first soon +forgotten. But in old age it is different. New connections are not easily +formed, and the mind lives so much in the past, with those whom we have +"loved long since and lost awhile." + +It was hard for Nellie to watch her father as the days sped by. From room +to room he wandered, standing for some time before a familiar object, now +a picture and again a piece of furniture. Old chords of memory were +awakened. They were simple, common household effects of little intrinsic +value. But to him they were fragrant with precious associations, like old +roses pressed between the pages of a book, recalling dear and far-off, +half-forgotten days. + +Nellie, too, felt keenly the thought of leaving the Rectory. It had been +her only home. Here had she been born, and here, too, had she known so +much happiness. Somehow she felt it would never again be the same; that +the parting of the ways had at last arrived. Her mind turned often towards +Stephen. She had seen him but little of late. Formerly he had been so much +at the Rectory. Seldom a day had passed that she did not see him. But now +it was so different. Sometimes for a whole week, and already it had been a +fortnight since he had been there. She knew how busy he was bringing his +logs down to the river. He had told her that stream driving would soon +begin, when every hour would be precious to catch the water while it +served. She knew this, and yet the separation was harder than she had +expected. There was an ache in her heart which she could not describe. +Often she chided herself at what she called her foolishness. But every +evening while sitting in the room she would start at any footstep on the +platform, and a deep flush would suffuse her face. She had come to realize +during the time of waiting what Stephen really meant to her. + +Thus while Nellie worked and thought in the Rectory, Stephen with his men +was urging his drive of logs down the rough and crooked Pennack stream. +How he did work! There was no time to be lost, for the water might +suddenly fall off and leave the logs stranded far from the river. All day +long he wrestled with the monsters of the forest. At night there was the +brief rest, then up and on again in the morning. But ever as he handled +the peevy there stood before him the vision of the sweet-faced woman at +the Rectory. She it was who had moved him to action, and inspired him. +through days of discouragement. His deep love for her was transforming him +into a man. He longed to go to her, to comfort her in her time of trouble. +But he must not leave his work now. Too much depended upon that drive +coming out, and she would understand. So day by day he kept to his task, +and not until the last log had shot safely into the boom in the creek +below did he throw down his peevy. It was late in the evening as he sprang +ashore and started up the road. His heart was happy. He had accomplished +the undertaking he had set out to perform. + +And while Stephen trudged homeward Nellie sat in the little sitting-room, +her fingers busy with her needle. All things had been completed for their +departure, which was to take place on the morrow. Parson John had retired +early to rest, and Nellie was doing a little sewing which was needed. The +fire burned in the grate as usual, for the evening was chill, and the +light from the lamp flooded her face and hair with a soft, gentle +radiance. Perfect type of womanhood was she, graceful in form, fair in +feature, the outward visible signs of a pure and inward spiritual +nobleness. + +So did she seem to the man standing outside and looking upon her through +the window with fond, loving eyes. His knock upon the door startled the +quiet worker. She rose to her feet, moved forward, and then hesitated. Who +could it be at such an hour? for it was almost eleven o'clock. Banishing +her fear she threw open the door, and great was her surprise to behold the +one of whom she had just been thinking standing there. For a brief space +of time neither spoke, but stood looking into each other's eyes. Then, +"Stephen," said Nellie, and her voice trembled, "I didn't expect to see +you to-night. Is anything wrong?" + +"No, not with me," Stephen replied as he entered. "But with you, Nellie, +there is trouble, and I want to tell you how I feel for you. I wanted to +come before; but you understand." + +"Yes, I know, Stephen," and Nellie took a chair near the fire. + +As Stephen looked down upon her as she sat there, how he longed to put his +strong arm about her and comfort her. He had planned to say many things +which he had thought out for days before. But nothing now would come to +his lips. He stood as if stricken dumb. + +"Nellie." + +"Stephen." + +Silence reigned in the room. Their hearts beat fast. Each realized what +that silence meant, and yet neither spoke. With a great effort Stephen +crushed back the longing to tell her all that was in his heart, and to +claim her for his own. Would she refuse? He did not believe so. But he was +not worthy of her love--no, not yet. He must prove himself a man first. He +must redeem the homestead, and then he would speak. Sharp and fierce was +the struggle raging in his breast. He had thought it would be a simple +matter to come and talk to her on this night. He would bid her a +conventional good-bye, and go back to his work, cheered and strengthened. +But he little realized how his heart would be stirred by her presence as +she sat there bowed in trouble. + +"Nellie," he said at length, taking a seat near by. "I'm very sorry you're +going away. What will the place be like without you?" + +"Yes, I'm sorry to go, Stephen," was the low reply. "'Tis hard to go away +from home, especially under--under a cloud." + +"But, surely, Nellie, you don't think the people believe those stories?" + +"No, not all. But some do, and it's so hard on father. He has had so much +trouble lately with that mining property in British Columbia, and now this +has come." + +Stephen sat thinking for a while before he spoke. When at last he did he +looked searchingly into Nellie's face. + +"There is something which puzzles me very much, and partly for that reason +I have come to see you to-night." + +"Anything more in connection with father, Stephen?" + +"Yes. Nora has been worse of late, and the doctor said that the only hope +of curing her was to send her to New York to a specialist. Mother was very +much depressed, for we have no means, and under the circumstances it is so +hard to hire money. I had about made up my mind to get some money advanced +on the logs. I would do anything for Nora's sake. The next day your father +came to see her, and mother was telling him what the doctor said, and how +much he thought it would cost. Two days later your father sent mother a +cheque for the full amount, with a letter begging her to keep the matter +as quiet as possible. I cannot understand it at all. I know your father is +in great need of money, and yet he can spare that large sum. Do you know +anything about it?" + +Nellie listened to these words with fast beating heart. She knew her +father had been over to bid Mrs. Frenelle and Nora good-bye, but he had +said nothing to her about giving the money. The mystery was certainly +deepening. Where had that money come from? A sudden thought stabbed her +mind. She banished it instantly, however, while her face crimsoned to +think that she should believe anything so unworthy of her father. + +"Nellie," Stephen questioned, after he had waited some time for her to +speak, "do you know anything about it?" + +"No, Stephen; nothing. It is all a great puzzle. But it is honest money! +Never doubt that! Father keeps silence for some purpose, I am sure. He +will tell us some day. We must wait and be patient!" + +She was standing erect now, her eyes glowing with the light of +determination, and her small, shapely hands were clenched. She had thought +of what people would say if they heard this. It would be like oil to fire. +No, they must never know it. + +"Stephen," she cried, "promise me before God that you will not tell anyone +outside of your family about that money!" + +"I promise, Nellie. Did you think I would tell? I know mother and Nora +will not. Did you doubt me?" + +"No, Stephen, I did not doubt you. But, oh, I do not know what to think +these days! My mind is in such a whirl all the time, and my heart is so +heavy over the puzzling things which have happened. I just long to lie +down and rest, rest, forever." + +"You're tired, Nellie," replied Stephen, as he straightened himself up in +an effort to control his own feelings. "You must rest now, and you will be +stronger to-morrow. Good-bye, Nellie, God bless you," and before she could +say a word he had caught her hand in his, kissed it fervently, flung open +the door, and disappeared into the night. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Where Is Dan? + + +During the whole of this time of excitement Dan had been doing his own +share of thinking. He heard the rumours of the parish, listened to the +stories told at the store or blacksmith shop, tucked them away in his +retentive mind, and brooded over them by day and night. The purpose which +had taken possession of him as he sat by the parson's side during his +lonely watch in Stephen's camp grew stronger as the days passed by. He +told no one, not even Nellie, what was in his mind. It was a sacred thing +to him, and he dreamed over it, as a mother over her unborn child. Not +until the dream had become a reality, a living deed, must the world know +of it. + +Formerly he had been indifferent as to his studies. His listless manner +was a great cause of worry to Nellie. But after the accident a change took +place. His eagerness to know how to write surprised her. Often she found +him painfully scrawling huge letters upon any old piece of paper he +happened to find. Time and time again he asked her how to spell certain +words, and when she had printed them for him he copied them over and over +again with the greatest care. Every day he watched the mail-carrier as he +rattled by in his rude buckboard. To him this man was a wonderful being. +Knowing nothing of the postal system, Dan imagined that Si Tower conducted +the whole business himself. "How much he must know," he thought, "and what +long journeys he must take." It was therefore with considerable +trepidation he one day stood by the roadside watching the postman rattling +along. + +"Hello, kid! Watcher want?" was Si's salutation as he pulled in his old +nag, and glared down upon the boy. + +"You give this to Tony, please," and Dan held up a little folded slip of +paper. + +Tower looked at the paper, and turned over the wad of tobacco in his cheek +before replying. Then a quaint twinkle shone in his eyes. + +"I can't take that," he said. "'Tain't lawful. No stamp. Say, kid, guess +the only way fer ye to deliver that is to take it yerself. Git up, Bess," +and with a hearty laugh the postman swung on his way, and all that day +told the story wherever he stopped. + +"Ye should have seen his face an' eyes," he chuckled. "It was as good as a +circus. Thar was no stamp on the letter, an' when I told 'im to go himself +an' deliver it, he jist stared at me. Ha, ha, it was too funny fer +anything." + +But Dan, as he stood in the road watching Tower drive away, did not see +anything funny. His faith in the postman had received a rude shock. His +hero was made of common clay after all. He sighed as he walked back to the +house, clutching in his hands the little crumpled piece of paper. As the +days passed and the new trouble arose at the Rectory, Dan became very +restless. He knew of everything that was going on, and when the Bishop +arrived he gazed upon him with awe mingled with fear and anger. Often he +would draw forth the letter, from a deep, capacious pocket, and look long +and carefully upon it. + +At length the moment arrived when his mind was fully made up. He bade +Nellie and her father good-night, and crept upstairs to his own little +room. For some time he sat upon the bed lost in thought. He heard Nellie +come up the stairs and enter her own room. Drawing up the blind and +turning down the light, he looked out of the window. How dark it was, and +dismal. He would wait awhile until it became lighter. Throwing himself +upon the bed without undressing, he drew a quilt over him and ere long was +fast asleep. When he opened his eyes a dim light was struggling in through +the window, and contending slowly with the blackness of night. Dan was +sleepy, and the bed so comfortable, that he longed to stay where he was. +But this feeling was soon overcome, and springing to his feet he stood +listening and alert, as a creature of the wild startled from its lair. Not +a sound disturbed the house. Everything was wrapped in silence. Quietly he +moved out of his room, and crept softly down the stairs, fearful lest at +every creak Nellie should be aroused. Reaching the kitchen he put on his +shoes, which he had left by the stove. Next he went into the pantry, found +some cold meat, bread, cheese and biscuits. A paper bag lying near was +soon filled and securely tied with a stout string. Dan sighed as he donned +his cap, drew on his mittens, closed the back door, and stood by the +little outside porch. In his heart he felt it was wrong to go away without +telling Nellie and her father where he was going. But on the other hand he +was quite sure they would not be willing for him to go so far away, and +besides he did not wish to tell them anything until the deed had been +accomplished. + +The early morning air was cool, clear and crisp. The sun had not yet +risen, but far away in the eastern sky the glory of another new-born day +was clearly visible. Dan's heart responded to the freshness and the beauty +which lay around him. As the daylight increased the feeble chirp of +half-awakened birds fell upon his ears. The old longing for the wild +filled his soul. He thought of his father, the little cabin in the valley, +and the woodland haunts he knew and loved so dearly. His eyes sparkled +with animation, and the blood tingled and surged through his body. He felt +like shouting at the mere joy of being alive. + +"Guess I must be like the bears," he thought. "They stay in their dens all +winter and come out in the spring. I'm just like one now." + +He knew the direction, for had he not listened time and time again to the +conversations in the store? The talk had often turned upon Rodgers & +Peterson's big lumbering operations in Big Creek Valley. Yes, he was sure +he could find the place. Up the river to Rocky Point, from thence along a +big cove, then over a hill and down into a valley. He had dreamed of the +way; how long it would take him, and what he would say when he got there. +All day long he plodded steadily onward, and when night shut down he +stopped by a large stack of hay which had been brought from the lowlands +when the river was frozen. He was tired, and the soft hay inviting. Into +this he crawled, and ere long was fast asleep. Early the next morning he +was up and on again. His supply of food was now getting low. At noon he +ruefully viewed the little that was left. "Enough only for supper," he +murmured. "Maybe I'll get there to-morrow." + +During the day he learned from several people he met that he was on the +right road. They had looked with interest upon the little figure, and +asked him numerous questions. But Dan gave only indefinite answers. He +wished to go to Big Creek Valley to Rodgers & Peterson's lumber camp. When +the second night arrived he was very weary and footsore. He had eaten his +last scrap of food before sundown, and as he trudged on he wondered what +he would do in the morning. He disliked the idea of asking at any of the +farm-houses for food. His father had always scoffed at tramps and beggars. +"They are spongers," he had often said, "and people cannot afford to have +such useless people around." + +That word "sponger" as it came to Dan caused him to straighten himself up +and step forward more quickly. He was not a sponger now. His face flushed +at Farrington's insult. He would show the whole world that he could pay +for his keep, and if he could not do it in one way, he would in another. + +That night no friendly haystack stood by the road-side, but over there in +the field he saw a barn near a farm-house. He could find shelter in that. +Waiting until it was dark, he crept cautiously through a small sheep door, +and entered. He heard in another part of the building the cattle munching +the last of their evening meal. It was good to know that they were near, +and that he was not altogether alone. As he threw himself upon a small +bunch of straw which he found as he felt around with his hands, a great +feeling of loneliness came over him. He longed for the Rectory and a +glimpse of Nellie's face. Was she thinking of him, he wondered, or had she +forgotten him, and believed him to be an ungrateful scamp? He clenched his +hands, and the blood surged to his face as he thought of it. No, he would +show her he was not a scamp, but a real man. Oh, she should know what he +could do! + +Thinking thus he found himself no longer in the barn, but back again at +the Rectory. He could see the fire burning brightly on the hearth, and a +number of people standing around. They were all looking upon him, and he +saw the doctor there, too. But Nellie's face riveted his attention. She +was gazing upon him with such a deep look of love. And yet it did not seem +altogether like Nellie, and, when she spoke, it was a different voice. +Suddenly a strange sound fell upon his ears. The room at the Rectory +faded, and in ita stead there was the rough barn floor, and the bunch of +straw on which he was lying. For an instant he gazed around him in a +bewildered manner. He could not realize just where he was. A childish +laugh caused him to turn his head, and there looking in at him from a +small door to the left was a little maiden, with curly, auburn hair and +cheeks twin sisters to the rosiest apples that ever grew. + +"Oo azy ittle boy!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Oo must det up. Turn, +daddy, tee azy, azy ittle boy." + +Presently there apppeared at her side, a large man, holding a pail in his +left hand. + +"What is it, dearie?" he asked. "What's all the fun and chattering about?" + +"Tee, tee, azy boy," and she pointed with a fat little finger to the +corner of the barn floor. + +By this time Dan had leaped to his feet, and stood confronting the man. He +felt that he was a trespasser, and perhaps he would be punished. But as he +looked into the big man's eyes he read with the instinct of a wild animal +that he had nothing to fear, for only pity shone in those clear, grey +depths. + +"Did you sleep there all night?" the man asked, pointing to the straw. + +"Yes, sir," was the reply. "I hope you're not cross." + +"I'm cross, boy, to think that you didn't come to the house and ask for a +bed." + +"I didn't like to, sir. I didn't like to bother anybody. But I knew +whoever owned the barn wouldn't mind if I slept here. It's a comfortable +place, and I was tired." + +"Did you have any supper last night?" the man asked, looking keenly into +Dan's face. + +"Yes, sir; a piece of bread." + +"What, nothing more?" + +"No. But I had a grand drink from that spring back yonder, and with the +good sleep I've had, I think I can manage to-day." + +"Look here, boy, you'll not leave this place until you have your +breakfast. So come. Marion, you found this little stranger, and you must +take him to the house." + +But Dan drew back, as the little maiden toddled up to take him by the +hand. + +"I can't go," he stammered. "I've got no money, and I won't be a sponger." + +"A what?" asked the man. + +"A sponger. I hate a sponger, and so did my father. I'll split wood for my +breakfast if you'll let me, sir, for I am hungry." + +"That's a bargain," said the man, much pleased at the spirit of the boy. +"So hurry off now. I haven't much time to lose." + +Proudly the little maiden conducted her charge to the house, and told in +broken language about her marvellous find. Dan felt much at home with +Marion's mother, and during breakfast he told her where he was going. + +"What! to Rodgers & Peterson's camp!" exclaimed: the big man at the head +of the table. "That's where I'm going myself, and that's why I'm up so +early this morning. I'm glad to hear of that, for I'll have company." + +"But I must split the wood," Dan insisted. "I shall try to earn my +breakfast, but what about the ride?" + +"Oh, I'll give you work along the way," laughed the man. "You'll have +plenty to do, so don't worry." + +While the horses were being harnessed Dan vigorously swung the axe in the +wood-house. Perched upon the door-step Marion watched him with admiring +eyes. He knew that she was looking at him, and his bosom swelled with +pride. He was not a sponger, but a man working for his breakfast. At times +he stole a glance at the little figure sitting there. "How pretty she is," +he thought. "I wish I had a sister like her. He longed to stay there, to +be near the little maiden, and to work for the big, kind man. He sighed as +he laid down the axe, and gazed at the wood he had chopped. + +"It ain't much," he remarked, as he stood ready to climb into the waggon. +"Wish I had more time." + +"It will do," responded the big man. "I am satisfied if you are." + +Dan had no time to answer, for at that instant a little voice sounded +forth. Looking quickly around he beheld Marion hurrying towards him +holding in her hand a small rose. + +"Me div dis to oo, ittle boy," she cried. "It's off my own woes bus. Oo +must teep it." + +Hardly knowing what he did Dan took the little flower, and stood staring +at Marion. + +"Come, lassie," cried her father, catching her in his arms and giving her +a loving hug and a kiss. Take good care of mother. We must be off." + +"Oo div me tiss, too," and she lifted up her lips to Dan's. + +The latter's face flushed scarlet, and he trembled. Never in his life had +he kissed a little girl like that. What should he do? He longed for the +ground to open or something dreadful to happen. He would have welcomed +anything just then. + +"Tiss me, ittle boy," urged Marion. She had him by the coat now with both +hands, drawing him down to her. There was nothing for him to do. He must +go through the ordeal. Suddenly he bent his head and shut his eyes. His +face came close to hers; he felt her lips touch his cheek, and heard her +childish laugh of delight. + +"Dood ittle boy!" she exclaimed. "Now dood-by. Don't lose my pitty fower." + +Too much confused to say a word Dan scrambled into the waggon, and soon +the horses were speeding off down the lane to the road. For some time he +sat bolt upright on the seat, silent and thoughtful, clutching in his hand +that tiny rose. The big man at his side asked no questions, but seemed +intent solely upon managing his horses. But not a motion of the little lad +at his side escaped his notice. He loved children, and had the rare gift +of understanding them. A faint smile played about his mouth as from the +corner of his eye he saw Dan take a piece of paper from his pocket, shyly +place the rose between the folds and then return it to its former place. +He could not hear the boy's heart thumping hard beneath his jacket, but he +understood, and what more was needed? + +All day long they jogged over the road, stopping only at noon to feed the +horses and eat a lunch Marion's mother had tucked away in the corner of +the waggon. Dan found it easy to talk to the big man sitting by his side. +He told him about his father's death, Parson John, and the accident, to +which his companion listened with much interest. But concerning the object +of his visit to the lumber camp, Dan was silent. Several times he was at +the point of explaining everything, but always he hesitated and determined +to wait. + +"I did not tell Nellie," he said to himself, "and why should I tell a +stranger first?" + +The sun was sinking far westward as they wound their way along a woodland +road. Down to the left the water of Big Creek Brook raced and swirled. +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the rushing torrent as the road +dipped closer to the bank. + +"We should meet the drive ere long," the big man remarked, as he flicked +the horses with his whip. "I'm afraid the logs have jammed in Giant Gorge, +or else they would have been here by this time. It's a bad, rocky place, +and seldom a drive gets through without trouble." + +Presently he pulled up his horses before a little log shack standing to +the right. + +"I shall leave the horses here for the night, boy," he said. "There's a +path down yonder to the left. If you're in a hurry you can take that. It +will lead to the stream, and you can follow it up until you meet the men. +If they ask any questions tell them you came with Big Sam, and everything +will be all right. Take care and don't fall into the water." + +Dan was only too anxious to be on foot. He was cramped from sitting so +long in the waggon. Moreover, he was restless to get to the end of his +journey, and accomplish his business. Thanking the big man, he leaped from +the waggon and was soon speeding down the path, and in a few minutes +reached the edge of the brook, roaring and foaming between its steep +banks. Looking up-stream he could see no sign of the drive, but the +well-beaten path was there, and along this he hurried. Ere long he reached +a bend in the stream and as he rounded this, and lifted up his eyes, a +wild, terrible scene was presented to view. Away to the right he beheld +Giant Gorge, a narrow gash in the rocks, through which the waters were +seething and boiling in wildest commotion. On the hither side a flood of +logs was sweeping and tearing down, like a mighty breastwork suddenly +loosened. Dan started back in terror at the sight, and was about to spring +up the bank to a place of safety, when his eyes rested upon the form of a +man out in the midst of that rush of destruction, vainly trying to free +himself from the watery chasm which had suddenly yawned beneath his feet. +Dan's heart beat wildly at the sight. But only for an instant did he +hesitate. Then forward he leaped like a greyhound. Forgotten was the +rushing torrent, and his own danger. He thought only of that frantically +clinging man. He reached the edge of the stream, leaped upon the nearest +logs, and, with the agility of a wildcat, threaded his way through that +terrible labyrinth of grinding, crashing, heaving monsters. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +The Rush of Doom + + +To bring a drive of logs down Big Creek Brook required skill, patience and +courage. It was a nasty, crooked stream, filled with sunken rocks, bad +bends and stretches of shallow water. Rodgers & Peterson had their logs in +the stream early, and everything pointed to a successful season's work. +For awhile all went well, but then mishap after mishap held them back. The +logs jammed in several places, and days were lost in getting them cleared. +Then they grounded upon bars and shoals, which caused a great delay. But +the most serious of all was the hold-up in Giant Gorge. This was the most +dreaded spot in the whole stream, and seldom had a drive been brought +through without some disaster. Much blasting had been done, and a number +of obstacles blown away. But for all that there were rocks which defied +the skill of man to remove. Two flinty walls reared their frowning sides +for several rods along the brook. Between these an immense boulder lifted +its head, around which the waters incessantly swirled. But when the stream +was swollen high enough the logs would clear this obstacle at a bound, +like chargers leaping a fence, and plunge into the whirling eddies below. + +When the "R & P" drive, the name by which it was commonly known, reached +Giant Gorge, it was confidently believed that there was enough water to +carry it safely through. But such reckoning was wrong. As the logs came +sweeping down and were sucked into the Gorge they began to crowd, and, +instead of rushing through loose and free, they jammed against the rocky +walls, while a huge monster became wedged on the sunken boulder, and, +acting as a key log, held in check the whole drive. Then began a wild +scene, which once beheld can never be forgotten. Stopped in their mad +career, the logs presented the spectacle of unrestrained passion. The +mighty, heaving, twisting mass groaned, pressed and writhed for freedom, +but with the awful grip of death the sturdy key log held firm. Steadily +the jam increased in size, and whiter threw the foam, as one by one those +giant logs swept crashing down, to be wedged amidst their companions as if +driven by the sledge of Thor. + +The drivers stood upon the bank and watched the logs piling higher and +higher. Well did they know what the delay might mean to Rodgers & +Peterson. Much depended upon that drive coming out, and for it to be held +up during summer meant almost ruin to the firm. They were a hardy body of +men who stood there late that afternoon discussing the matter. They were +great workmen these, well versed in woodland lore. All winter long had +they taken their part in that big lumber operation, and, now that the work +was almost completed, it was certainly aggravating to be thus checked. + +As the men talked, and several lighted their pipes, one strapping fellow +stood on the bank, his eyes fixed upon that immovable key log. During the +whole winter Tony Stickles had been the butt as well as the curiosity of +the men. His long, lank figure was the source of much ridicule, while his +remarks, which were always slow and few, were generally greeted with +merriment. From the first night in camp he had been a marked man. Ere he +threw himself into the rude bunk he had knelt down on the floor in the +presence of them all, and said his evening prayer. A boot had been thrown +at his head, and a laugh had gone about the room. Tony had risen from his +knees, and with a flushed face sought his couch, surprised at the action +on the part of these men. But one middle-aged man of great stature and +strength had watched it all. He sat quietly smoking for several minutes +after the laughter had subsided. + +"Boys," he said at length, taking his pipe from his mouth, "I'm real sorry +at what ye've done to-night. I've six little ones of me own, an' I hope to +God when they grow up they'll not be afeered to kneel down an' do as yon +lad has done to-night. I'm not a good man meself, more's the pity. But +that boy's had a good mother's teachin'. I honour her an' 'im. An' let me +tell ye this, men, if I ketch ye doin' agin what ye did to-night, ye'll +have to reckon with me. So jist try it on, an' I won't give a second +warnin'." + +Jake Purdy calmly resumed his smoking, and the men looked at one another +in silence. They knew very well from certain past unpleasant experiences +what it meant to cross this quiet, plain-spoken man. He said little, and +never entered into a quarrel without some reason. But when he did there +was cause for the stoutest heart to quake. + +Tony listened to it all concealed away in his bunk. His heart thumped +beneath his rough shirt, and he wished to thank Jake for taking his part. +But strive as he might he never had the opportunity. The big woodsman +never seemed to notice him. Days passed into weeks, and still Tony did not +utter the gratitude which was lying in his heart. To him Jake was more +than ordinary--a hero. He watched him as he chopped, and drank in greedily +the few words he let fall from time to time in the camp. + +"Boys, that drive must go through." + +It was the boss who spoke, as he jerked his thumb towards the Gorge. "Yes, +it's got to go through to-night, or it's all up. The water's falling off +fast, and if we wait till to-morrow, we'll wait till next fall. I've +always said there should be a dam at the head of the Gorge, and I say it +now more emphatically than ever. But as it is not there, it's up to us to +get this d--n thing through as best we can. I've never been stuck yet in +bringing out a drive, and I hope this won't be the first time." + +"But what's your plan?" asked one. "Hadn't ye better pick one of us to go +down into that hell-hole, an' cut that key log?" + +"No, that isn't my plan," and the boss scratched the back of his head. +"I'm not going to be responsible for the carcase of any man. If I say to +one 'Go,' and he goes and gets pinched, I'll worry about it to my dying +day. I'd rather go myself first. But if we draw for it, then it's off my +shoulders, and I stand the same chance as the rest of ye. I believe that +whatever is to be will be, and the right man to go down there will be +chosen. Do you agree to that, boys?" + +"Ay, ay," came the response. "Go ahead, Tim. We'll stand by the +agreement." + +Some brown paper was accordingly found, and cut with a big jack-knife into +twenty pieces, according to the number of the men. On one of these a large +X was marked with a blue lead-pencil, which one of the men had in his +pocket. A tin lunch can was next produced, and into this the pieces of +paper were all thrown and the cover shut down tight. When the can had been +thoroughly shaken, the men came up one by one, shut their eyes, put in +their hands and drew forth a slip. A tense silence reigned during this +performance, and the hearts of these sturdy men beat fast as each glanced +at his paper to see what it contained. Jake Purdy was one of the last to +approach, and, thrusting in a huge, hairy hand, jerked forth his piece, +and as he looked upon it his face turned pale, though he said not a word +as he held up the slip for all to see the fatal X scrawled upon it. At +that instant Tony Stickles started forward, and confronted Jake. His eyes +were wide with excitement, and his long, lank figure was drawn up to its +full height. + +"You mustn't go!" he cried. "No, no! You've got six little ones at home, +an' a wife who wants ye. I'll go in yer place." + +Big Jake looked at Tony in surprise, and into his strong, determined face +came an expression of tenderness which the men had never seen before. + +"No, lad," he replied, "it can't be. The lot's fallen to me, an' I'm the +one to do it. I thank ye kindly all the same." + +Tony waited to hear no more. His eyes glanced upon an axe lying near. +Springing towards this he seized it, and before a restraining hand could +be laid upon him he bounded towards the Gorge, sprang down the bank and +leaped upon the logs. + +Big Jake rushed after him, calling and imploring him to come back. But his +cries were unheeded. Tony was now between the rocky walls, working his way +over those tossed and twisted monsters, deaf to all entreaties from the +shore. + +"Come back, Jake!" roared the men from behind. "It's no use for you to go +now. He's taken the matter into his own hands, an' one's enough." + +Reluctantly he obeyed, and stood with the rest watching with breathless +interest to see what would happen. + +Tony had now reached the front of the jam, and was carefully picking his +way to the gripping key log. Balancing himself as well as he could he +chose a spot where the strain was the greatest. Then the axe cleaved the +air, the keen blade bit the wood, and the whirling chips played about his +head. Deeper and deeper the steel ate into the side of the giant spruce. +Suddenly a report like a cannon split the air, the axe was hurled like a +rocket out into midstream to sink with a splash into the foaming eddies. +Tony turned, leaped like lightning back upon the main body of logs, and +started for the shore. But he was too late. With a roar of pent-up wrath +the mighty drive moved forward. Down through the Gorge it surged, gaining +in speed every instant from the terrible pressure behind. And down with it +went Tony, enwrapped with foam and spray. Nobly he kept his feet. He +leaped from one log to another. He dodged monster after monster, which +rose on end and threatened to strike him down. It was a wild race with +death. Should he miss his footing or lose his head only for an instant he +would have been ground to pieces in that rush of doom. The watching men +stood as if transfixed to the spot. They saw him speeding onward and +drawing nearer to the shore at the sharp bend in the stream. It looked as +if he would gain the bank, and a cheer of encouragement rang out over the +waters. But the words had scarcely died upon their lips ere they beheld +the logs part asunder right beneath Tony's feet, and with a wild cry he +plunged into the rushing current below. Frantically he clutched at the +nearest logs, and endeavoured to pull himself up from that watery grave. +At times he managed to draw himself part way out, but the swirling waters +sucked him down. It needed only a little help, but the logs were wet and +slippery, and there was nothing on which to obtain a firm grip. His body +was becoming numb from the icy waters, and at each terrible struggle he +felt himself growing weaker. He knew he could last but little longer in +such a position. Was he to drown there? His thoughts flashed to his little +home in Glendow. Were they thinking of him? he wondered. What would his +mother say when they carried her the news? Oh, if he could only feel her +strong hand in his now, how soon he would be lifted from that awful place. +Suddenly there came into his mind her parting words when he had left home. + +"Tony," she had said, "ye may be often in danger out thar in the woods. +But remember what the good Lord said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble +an' I will deliver ye.'" + +And there in the midst of that swirling death he lifted up his voice. "Oh, +Lord!" he cried, "help me! save me!" + +And even as he prayed, and made one more mighty struggle, a small hand +reached out and grasped his. It was all that was needed. He felt the +watery grip loosen, and numbed to the bone he sprawled his full length +across a big log at Dan's feet. And not a moment too soon had that helping +hand been stretched forth, for glancing back he saw the logs had closed +again, grinding and tearing as before. They had struck a wild eddy and all +was confusion. He staggered to his feet at the shock and barely escaped a +huge log which suddenly shot up from below. But Dan was not so fortunate, +for a glancing blow sent him reeling back, a helpless, pathetic little +figure. Tony was all alert now. Leaping forward he caught the unconscious +boy in his arms, and started for the shore. Then began a fierce, +determined fight, a hand-to-hand encounter with cold, relentless death. +Step by step Tony staggered forward, baffled here, retreating a few paces +there, but steadily gaining. At first he did not mind Dan's weight, but +after a few minutes the burden began to tell. He was weak anyway from the +terrible strain and experience through which he had recently passed. Could +he hold out until he reached the shore? His face was drawn and tense; his +eyes stared wildly upon those rolling, moving, writhing things beneath his +feet. They seemed like thousands of serpents trying to capture him as he +leaped from one to the other. His brain reeled; he was falling, but at +that moment he felt strong arms about him. His burden was snatched away. +He heard voices, friendly, encouraging and cheering, and then, oblivion. + +When Tony opened his eyes he found himself lying upon the shore with +several men standing near, watching him with keen interest. There was no +merriment or ridicule in their faces now, but only anxiety and sympathy. +The hearts of these rough men had been touched by what they had recently +witnessed. Most of them were with the drive, but a few had been told off +to look after the two lads. + +"Where's that boy?" asked Tony as the terrible scene flashed back into his +mind. + +"Over there," replied one, jerking his thumb to the left. + +"Is he all right?" was Tony's next query. + +"Can't say. He's not come to yet." + +At this Tony struggled to his feet, and walked slowly over to where Dan +was lying, unconscious still, and breathing hard. + +"Who is he? Where did he come from?" were the questions which these men +asked one another as they rubbed Dan's body, and bathed his forehead. + +Something white sticking from a little pocket in Dan's coat caught Tony's +eye. Reaching down he drew it forth, and as he did so the little crushed +rose dropped to the ground. One of the men picked it up and holding it in +his big, rough hand looked curiously upon it. But Tony did not notice the +flower, for his eyes were fixed upon the paper on which he saw his own +name. Slowly and with difficulty he spelled out the queer letters scrawled +there. + +"deR toNy," so the missive began. "cUm hoM qiK they say paRson John sTol +ol bilees goLD i tHINK yoU nO weR IT ISS + +"yeR friEND TruLEE + +"_Dan_." + +Tony held the letter in his hand for some minutes and stared at those +quaint words. He had heard from his mother of the death of old Billy and +the burning of his house. But of the trouble later he knew nothing, for +letters from home had been few. Now a new light dawned upon his mind. +Something must be wrong, and this lad had come all the way for him! But +who was Dan? He had never seen nor heard of him before. + +"As he stood there Big Sam drew near. He started with surprise as he saw +the boy lying on the ground, his little pale face resting upon a rough +coat. + +"What! what's this?" he exclaimed. "Why, this is the boy who came with me +to-day! Has he fallen into the stream? I warned him to be careful." + +"Poor boy! poor boy!" he remarked when the story of the brave deed had +been related. "Do you think he's badly hurt?" + +"Can't say," replied one. "But do ye know who he is?" + +"Yes," and Big Sam in a few words told all that he knew. + +"We must get him away from this as soon as possible," said the former +speaker. "He needs the doctor. Where had we better take him?" + +"Look here, boys," said Sam after a moment's thought. "As soon as those +horses have munched their oats they shall head for home. I'll take the boy +with me, and my wife will care for him. The doctor lives near." + +Tony stood by listening to it all with his eyes fixed intently upon Dan's +face, while his hand still clutched the letter. He was weak, and ready to +drop. But a burning desire throbbed within his breast. He partly realized +the situation at Glendow. There was trouble, deep, serious trouble, and he +was needed. + + + + +Chapter XXV + +Beneath the Ashes + + +Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on +the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs. Not a ripple disturbed +the surface of the noble river, or the waters of the little creek lying +between its semi-wooded banks. It was a balmy spring evening when the +whole world seemed at peace. On a night such as this new longings and +aspirations swell the heart, and the blood tingles joyfully through the +body. Stephen had remained after the rest of the men had gone home. He +wished to examine the logs to see that the work was well done. As he now +stood on the shore his thoughts were not upon the glassy river or Nature's +loveliness. His mind was disturbed. All through the winter he had been +looking forward to the time when the logs would be floating there secured +by their wooden bonds. He had planned to have Nellie come to see the +completion of his work. He knew how she would rejoice at what he had +accomplished, and in his mind he had heard her words of congratulation. +But now all was changed. The work was done, but Nellie was not there to +behold his victory. How lonely seemed the parish since her departure. He +had thrown himself with great energy into his task, and the days had sped +by. But, try as he might, he could not free himself from the weight which +pressed upon his heart. Everything in the parish moved on as before. The +new clergyman came, and service had been held in the church as usual. Many +spoke favourably of the new man. He was young, full of spirit, and a +clear, forcible speaker. But to Stephen it was not the same as formerly. +He missed the white-haired, venerable man in his accustomed place. The +moment he entered the church his eyes sought the seat where Nellie always +sat. It was empty. That form so dear to him was not there. He saw her +Prayer Book and Hymn Book in the little rack, and a lump came into his +throat, as he knew they would not be used. + +He thought of these things, standing there on the shore. His tall, manly +figure was drawn to its full height. He gazed straight before. It was a +far-off vision he beheld, and suddenly there came into his heart a peace +such as he had not known since she left. She seemed to be very near, +standing right by his side. He saw her face, beheld her eyes looking into +his, and heard her voice bidding him to be of good cheer, and to look up. + +A sound near by startled him. He glanced quickly around, half expecting to +see Nellie standing there. Instead, however, he beheld the tall, lank form +of Tony Stickles approaching. His face was gaunt, his step weak and slow. +But Stephen did not notice these, so surprised was he to see him. + +"Tony!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, "where did you drop from? I +thought you were on the big drive." + +"So I was, Steve," Tony replied, taking a seat upon a large boulder. + +"Didn't get fired, eh?" + +To this Tony made no response. He looked thoughtfully before him for a +while. + +"Say, Steve," he at length remarked. "How's Parson John?" + +"He's gone, Tony. Driven from Glendow." + +"What!" and Tony sprang to his feet in excitement. "When did he leave?" + +"Last week." + +"Then I'm too late! I was afraid of it! But I came fast--I ran sometimes; +but it was no use. Is he in the lockup?" + +"In the lockup! What do you mean?" and Stephen stared at him in amazement. + +From the depth of a capacious pocket Tony brought forth Dan's soiled +letter, and held it up. + +"Read that," he said. "It's all I know." + +Quickly Stephen scanned the quaint words, drinking in almost intuitively +the meaning of it all. + +"Did Dan give you this?" he demanded. + +"Yes." + +"And where is the boy now?" + +Tony's eyes dropped at the question, and he did not answer. + +"Is anything wrong?" Stephen insisted. + +"Yes, I'm afraid so. But set down close, Steve. I've somethin' great to +tell ye." + +And sitting there in the dusk of even Tony poured into his companion's +ears the story of that terrible scene in Giant Gorge, and of Dan's brave +deed. + +Stephen listened spell-bound to the tale. The meaning of Dan's departure +was all clear now. While people had been blaming the lad as an ungrateful +runaway he had fared forth in loving service on behalf of his guardians. A +mistiness blurred Stephen's eyes as Tony paused. + +"Where is Dan now?" he asked. + +"At Big Sam's house. We brought 'im down on the waggon, an' I helped carry +'im in." + +"Who is Big Sam?" + +"Oh, he's the teamster. The booms are near his place whar the raftin' will +be done. Sam hauls the stuff fer the gang." + +"And you don't know how badly Dan is hurt?" + +"No, I came away at once. I wanted to help the old parson. An' say, Steve, +did they find the gold?" + +"Find it? No. And I don't think they will now. It's a great mystery." + +"An' they say the parson took it?" + +"Yes, some do." + +"An' didn't they find the iron box?" + +"No." + +"Did they look beneath the ashes?" + +"They searched every nook and corner, and even sifted the ashes, but could +find nothing." + +"An' didn't Billy say nuthin'?" + +"No, he was too weak. He tried to speak after the parson had carried him +out, but no one could understand him." + +Tony did not speak for a while, but remained lost in thought. + +"Steve," he at length remarked. "I'd like to go to that old place. Will ye +go with me?" + +"What! to-night?" + +"Yes, right away." + +"It will be dark there now, Tony. Why not wait until morning?" + +"No, no. I must go to-night. We kin git a lantern, an' I want a shovel, +too. Will ye come?" + +"Yes, if you want me," was Stephen's reluctant reply. "But you might as +well save yourself the trouble. The place has been so thoroughly searched +by daylight that I don't see we can do much at night. Anyway, I shall go +with you." + +Together they moved on their way up the road, Stephen carrying his peevy +upon his shoulder. As they came to the store he stopped. + +"Wait here, Tony," he said, "till I run in and get the mail. I shall be +only a minute." + +Entering the building he found Farrington sitting behind the counter +writing. He looked up as Stephen entered, and laid down his pen. He was +affable to all now, for election day was but a week off, and he needed +every vote. + +"Raftin' all done, Steve?" he asked as he handed out the mail. + +"Yes, all finished," was the reply. + +"Ye'll be to the p'litical meetin' to-night, Steve, won't ye?" + +"Oh, I had forgotten all about it." + +"But ye must come. I want ye to hear what I hev to say. Gadsby'll be thar, +an' I've got a dose fer 'im which he won't soon fergit. I'll show 'im a +thing or two, an' the people'll learn that they need a real, live +practical man for councillor. Ye must certainly come." + +"I'm not sure that I can come," Stephen replied. "I have an engagement +to-night. I may be there, however, if I can get through in time. But I +must be off now; Tony's waiting for me." + +At these last words Farrington started, and an expression of concern swept +over his face. He leaned anxiously forward and looked intently at Stephen. + +"Did ye say that Tony Stickles is out thar?" + +"Yes. He has just arrived." + +"Why, w--what's he back so soon fer?" + +"Special business, so he tells me. But I must be off." + +Stephen noted Farrington's remarkable interest in Tony's return, and +wondered what it meant. He had no mind to tell him about Dan, for he +preferred to have as few words as possible with this man who was such a +thorn in the flesh. He left Farrington standing in the door and proceeded +with Tony up the road. As they moved along he noticed how his companion +lagged behind. Usually he was such a rapid walker, and this slowness was a +surprise to Stephen. + +"Are you not well, Tony?" he asked. + +"I'm all right," was the reply. "I've had a long walk to-day." + +"Since when?" + +"Daybreak." + +"And did you rest?" + +"No." + +"Look here," and Stephen faced sharply about "Have you had anything to eat +to-day?" + +Tony's face flushed, and he gave a slight, evasive laugh. But Stephen was +not to be put off. + +"No, that won't do. I want to know. Have you been walking all day without +any food?" + +"Oh, I didn't mind, Steve. I was in a hurry to get home. Besides I--" + +"Yes, I know," interrupted Stephen. "You didn't have your pay, and were +too proud to beg. Oh, you're a great one. But you shall have supper with +me at once before you go digging among those ashes." + +For a while Tony was stubborn, but in the end Stephen led him off in +triumph. Supper was ready, and Mrs. Frenelle gave the visitor a hearty +welcome, and in his own quaint way he told of his work in the woods, and +his experience on the drive. + +"I feel like a new man," he said, rising from the table. "I was about +tuckered out. Now I'm ready fer that bizness up yon. Guess we'll turn up +somethin' tonight, or my name ain't Tony Stickles." + +It was quite dark by the time they reached the ruins of the old house. The +lantern threw its fitful light over the charred sticks and blackened +stones. + +"My! this is a scary place!" Tony exclaimed as he glanced around. "Poor +old Billy was good to me, an' many a square meal I've had here. Now let's +begin operations." + +The wreck of the old-fashioned chimney stood out gaunt and desolate, while +the large fire-place was filled with sticks and stones. These Tony began +to clear away, tossing them far from the foundation. Placing the lantern +in a secure position, Stephen assisted him in his task. Why he did so he +could not tell, but there was something so sure and masterful about Tony's +words and actions that he felt compelled to do something. + +"Now fer the shovel, Steve. We'll soon see what's here," and Tony began to +dig up ashes and earth in a lively manner. "I think this is the place. +Yes, right down under the big hearth-stone, a little to the right. He told +me about it time an' time agin. Poor Billy! Poor Billy! Ye never thought +it 'ud come to this." + +Stephen was all attention now. He watched Tony, digging and talking, +uncertain whether the lad was really in his right mind. Had the fearful +experience in Giant Gorge turned his brain? he wondered. He had read of +such things. There was something uncanny about the way Tony talked to +himself, and, brave though he was, a strange feeling crept through +Stephen's body, making him long to be away from the spot. And still the +digging went on, down through the yielding soil. + +"Should be here purty close," Tony remarked. "Under the hearth-stone, well +to the right. I ought to be near--Hello! what's this?" + +The exclamation was caused by the point of the shovel striking something +hard. Again and again the thrust was made, and each time a hollow sound +was produced. + +"It's it! It's it!" shouted Tony, now much excited. "I knowed it was +here," and he dug away frantically, until presently an iron box about a +foot long and six inches wide was exposed to view. Throwing aside the +shovel, he seized the treasure with both hands, tore it from its +hiding-place and held it aloft. + +"Look, Steve!" he cried, trembling with excitement, "I knowed thar was +somethin' here!" + +Stephen was now as much aroused as Tony. "What's in it, do you think?" he +asked. + +"Gold! that's what's in it! Ye'll soon see," and Tony pulled back a little +iron pin and threw up the cover. As he did so he gave a cry of surprise, +for the light falling upon the interior showed nothing there but a few +pieces of paper. Tony rubbed his eyes in amazement, and then looked at +Stephen. + +"Whar's that gold?" he fiercely demanded. "What has become of it?" + +Stephen scarcely heard him, for a terrible idea had flashed into his mind. +Someone had taken it, and was it--? He hardly dare let the name beat for +an instant through his brain. It was cruel. No, no, it could not be! That +white-haired man of God would not stoop to such a thing! But where was the +gold? + +The moon rose clear and full above the distant horizon. It seemed to ask +silently the same question. A dog from a farm-house up the road split the +air with its hoarse bark of wonder. Stephen placed his hand to his +forehead in an abstracted manner. Then he glanced at the box, and the +papers lying therein arrested his attention. He reached down and took them +in his hand. They were tied with an old piece of tarred twine, and were +much blackened and soiled. Drawing forth the first and holding it close to +the lantern, Stephen read the brief words recorded there. It took him but +a minute to do this, and then followed an exclamation which gave Tony a +distinct start. + +"What is it, Steve?" he asked. "What hev ye found?" + +"Read this, and judge for yourself," Stephen replied, thrusting the paper +into his companion's hands. + +As Tony spelled out the words his eyes bulged with astonishment. + +"Oh, Steve!" he gasped, "I'm so glad it isn't the parson. But do ye think +this is all right?" + +"It. looks like it. See the date, November 10th of last year. And notice, +too, these words 'for safe keeping' and 'until called for.' Why, it's as +plain as day. Then, here's the amount, 'five thousand dollars, all in +gold, to be left in the iron box marked with a cross in white paint.'" + +"Say, Tony," Stephen asked, "did Billy have such a box, another one like +this?" + +"Why, yes, I do remember one very well. It was smaller than this; 'twas +stouter an' had a lock an' key. He kept some papers an' loose change in +it. It allus sot on the old mantel-piece over the fire-place." + +"Tony!" said Stephen, looking hard at the paper, "if that box of gold is +there yet, and that man has been silent and let another take the blame, +it's the smallest, vilest piece of work of which I ever heard." + +"Sure 'tis, an' I say let's go an' ax 'im 'bout it." + +"But he's at the meeting now." + +"Well, all the better. It's right that the people should hear. But say, +Steve, what's that other paper?" + +"Oh, I forgot it. Maybe it will explain things further." + +"Why, it's Billy's will!" cried Stephen, running his eyes over the closely +written sheets, "and he's left the whole of his property, gold, farm and +all, to you." + +"To me! To me!" exclaimed Tony. "Ye must be mistaken." + +"Read it for yourself, then," and Stephen passed over the will. "It's all +there in black and white." + +As Tony read, his face flushed, and his hands clutched the paper in the +intensity of his feelings. His eyes flashed as he turned them hard upon +Stephen. + +"I understand now!" he cried. "That villain has tried to cheat me outer +all this. He thought the will an' everythin' else was burned. But he was +mistaken. Oh, yes, he didn't know what was beneath the ashes. Come, Steve, +let's go an' ax 'im a few questions. Mebbe he'll explain things. Anyway +we'll give 'im a chance. Come, let's hurry!" + + + + +Chapter XXVI + +A Rope of Sand + + +Silas Farrington was much disturbed by Tony Stickles' arrival in Glendow. +He had always laughed at the lad, considering him a stupid, ungainly +creature. Occasionally he had overtaken Tony on the road trudging wearily +along, but it had never occurred to him to offer him a seat in his waggon +or sleigh. + +"It spiles sich people," he had often said, "to take too much notice of +'em. They have a sartin place in life, an' should be made to keep it." But +standing in the store that evening after Stephen's departure, the despised +Tony occupied an important place in his mind. He would have laughed to +scorn anyone who had suggested such a thing. But down deep in his heart, +small and narrow though it was, dwelt considerable unrest. "What had the +lad come back for?" he asked himself over and over again. "What was the +special business which brought him so unexpectedly? Did he know anything?" +Harrington's face twitched as he thought of these things. He strode up and +down in the store. Once he paused before the safe standing in the corner, +and looked long and thoughtfully upon it. A muttered curse escaped his +lips. This was succeeded by a scornful laugh. "What a fool I am!" he +exclaimed, "to worry about sich things! What is thar to find out? Let 'em +do their best and be damned! We'll see who holds the stoutest and longest +rope. That Steve Frenelle's a cur, an' I hate 'im. He's jist the one to +stir up trouble. I've suspected 'im all along. He knows too much fer one +of his age. Wait 'till I'm councillor, an' then I'll show 'im a thing or +two." Waggons rattling along the road startled him. He glanced at his +watch. "My! I didn't know 'twas so late; almost time for the meetin'. I +must git ready." + +The big public hall of Glendow was packed to the door. People came from +all over the parish to this political meeting, for lively scenes were +expected. The two candidates opposed to each other were to be there to +discuss various problems of local interest. On the front seat sat Mrs. +Farrington, Eudora and Dick. + +Philip Gadsby was the first speaker. He was a man tall and somewhat thin, +with a kind, thoughtful face. His voice was soft, well modulated, and his +words carefully chosen. There was nothing of the orator about him, in fact +his speech was somewhat of a hesitating nature. But he was possessed of a +convincing manner, and all who were there knew they were listening to a +man who was more than his words, and that what he said he would endeavour +to accomplish to the best of his ability. He spoke about the needs of the +parish, better roads, improvement of the schools, and the efforts which +should be made to form an agricultural society in Glendow, which was +essentially a farming community. + +"Our watchword," he said in conclusion, "should be progress. Look at our +roads. Money is spent upon them every season, but not in an intelligent +way. We find men at times appointed roadmasters who seldom drive over the +highway. Mud and sods are heaped up in the centre in a confused fashion, +late in the fall. Let us do less, do it well, and use more gravel. Look at +our schools. The buildings are old, ill equipped, and sometimes fifty to +sixty children are crowded into one room fitted only to accommodate +twenty, and one teacher to manage all. And we do need an agricultural +society. We are farmers. We need to read, study, meet together and hear +addresses from experts. New methods are employed elsewhere, while we are +behind the times. Yes, we must advance. I have the welfare of the parish +at heart, and whether elected or not I shall still take my part in the +forward movement." + +Often during the speech Gadsby was greeted with cheers and clapping, for +those present realized the effectiveness of what he said, and he sat down +amid great applause. + +It was then that Farrington rose to his feet and mounted the platform. He +had listened to Gadsby's speech with amused tolerance, and occasionally +whispered something to his wife sitting by his side. He was a man +possessed of an abundance of words, and he turned his attention at once +upon the first speaker. Gadsby had made no personal allusion to his +opponent. He simply stated his case and ceased. But not so Farrington. +From the first word he uttered he began to pour forth contempt and +ridicule. He laughed at Gadsby's ideas of progress. + +"I think we're purty well advanced," he shouted. "The schools an' roads +are good enough fer me. Progress means more money, an' more money means +bigger taxes. The children of Glendow are well supplied, an' as fer the +roads they're good enough. As fer an agricultural society--well," and here +he cast a significant look at Gadsby, "them who talk sich things had +better look at their own farms. Before I go out shoutin' about progress I +had better be sure that my own bizness is on a good footin'. I generally +find that sich people spend too much time gaddin' about instid of +attendin' to their own home affairs." + +And thus Farrington talked for over an hour. He wandered off into all +kinds of subjects, made jokes at which the boys laughed, and told funny +stories. He imagined he was putting his hearers in good humour, and he +took their cheers and stamping as signs of approval. But he little knew +what the serious-minded were thinking about. They were slow of speech, but +they were keen observers, and they were mentally comparing the two +candidates before them. Farrington knew nothing of this. He was in a +rollicking, fine humour. He felt pleased with the people for their +apparent approval, but more pleased with himself for the speech he was +making. "I'm real glad to see so many of yez here," he said in conclusion. +"I think nearly all the voters are present, at any rate every family is +represented. Now if any of yez would like to ax a question I shall be glad +fer 'im to do so. I take it that the meetin' is open fer free discussion." + +"Guess I've made a hit," Farrington whispered to his wife as he resumed +his seat by her side. "The people know a good thing when they find it." + +"Ye done well, Si," was the reply. "I'm sartinly proud of ye. Thar's no +doubt now about yer election." + +The clapping and stamping had not ceased ere a man was noticed pushing his +way through the crowd to the front of the hall. As he mounted the platform +the noise suddenly stopped, for all were much surprised to see Stephen +Frenelle standing there. Never before had he been known to do such a +thing, especially at a political meeting. What could he have to say? All +wondered. And Stephen, too, was surprised. He was not accustomed to public +speaking, and shrank from the thought of facing so many people. But he was +very calm now, and in his eyes flashed a light which bespoke danger. In +his right hand he clutched several papers, which all noted. He looked +steadily over the heads of the people before speaking, and an almost +breathless silence ensued. + +"You wonder why I am here," he began at length. "I am not used to the +platform, and only a matter of great importance would ever make me mount +it. The last speaker has given permission for all to ask questions. He has +said that nearly all the voters are here, and that every family is +represented. I will tell you of one voter who is not here, one who on an +occasion like this was generally present. I need hardly mention his name, +for you all know. I now ask why isn't Parson John with us to-night?" He +paused as if for an answer, and looked into the faces before him. "You all +know," he continued, "as well as I do. Because he was actually driven from +the parish. He left it almost a heart-broken man." + +At these words, Farrington sprang to his feet. + +"What has all this nonsense to do with the election?" he cried. "He's out +of order, an' I appeal to the chairman to stop 'im." + +"Hear! hear!" yelled several. "Go ahead, Steve!" shouted others. + +"Yes, I intend to go ahead," replied the latter. "You will find out, Mr. +Farrington, before I am through the meaning of my words, and perhaps I +will not be the only one out of order. It's more likely to be disorder. + +"I was asking the question when I was interrupted, 'Why was Parson John +driven from the parish?' Because of vile stories which were circulated +about him. And what were those stories? You know as well as I do. I need +not mention them all; of one only shall I speak. When old Billy Fletcher's +house was burned to the ground, and the gold which he was supposed to have +could not be found, what did some say? That Parson John took it. Yes, +that's what they said, and you all know it. I've heard it ever since then. +His friends knew it was a lie, but what could they say? What proof could +they bring forward? I now ask you what became of that gold? It is a secret +no longer. The witness is here," and Stephen held the papers aloft. The +silence which now pervaded the hall was most intense. Every ear was +strained to its utmost, and every eye was fixed full upon that up-lifted +hand. + +"Here is my witness," repeated Stephen, "and I ask the man, the last +speaker, whose name is signed to this paper, to stand up and give us an +explanation." + +During the latter part of this speech, Farrington had turned as white as +death. He sat bolt upright, with his hands clutching convulsively the edge +of the seat. He felt that something terrible was pending, and a horrible, +craven fear overwhelmed him! He knew that paper held up there only too +well. It was simply a sheet of cheap writing-paper, and yet it was his +ruin. It was damning him as a scoundrel and a sneak in the presence of +these people! + +"Cannot the last speaker explain how his name happens to be here and what +he knows about that gold?" + +These words fell like the knell of doom upon Farrington's ears. What was +he to do? But something must be done. + +"What d'ye mean?" he gasped. "What d'ye want me to explain?" + +"About this writing." + +"What writin', an' whar did ye git any writin' of mine? It's some mean +trick!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "This villain has come here fer +the purpose of injurin' me! I tell ye it's false! it's false!" + +"But what about this?" Stephen insisted, calmly holding up one of the +papers. "And there are others." + +"What is it? What is it? Read it, Steve," came the cry from the audience. + +"I say it's false!" shouted Farrington, springing again to his feet, his +face blanched with terror. "It's a mean trick! Put the villain out! Will +ye let an honest man be put upon in this way?" + +"Read the paper, Steve," urged several. "Let's know what's the matter. We +don't understand this fuss." + +Farrington made a pathetic figure as he stood there uncertain what to do. +He knew he was in a trap, but he had not the moral courage to stand up and +face the worst like a man. Had he done so there were many who would have +pitied him. But he blustered and raved and threatened what he would do. + +"If that man will be still for a few minutes," said Stephen, "I shall tell +you what these papers contain." + +"Sit down, Farrington!" came a general yell. "We'll hear you later." + +"Now," began Stephen. "I shall read this one first. It is not long. + +"'To-day October 30, 18-- I placed the sum of $5,000 in gold in Silas +Farrington's safe for him to keep until called for. The money is locked in +a stout, iron box marked with a cross with white paint. I do not like +banks--they are not to be depended upon, and are always failing. This +seems to be the best place to put my money. I am to give Mr. Farrington +one dollar a month for the use of the safe. 'WILLIAM FLETCHER.'" + +As Stephen finished the reading, a movement took place among the people +and angry, threatening words were interchanged. + +"It's a lie!" yelled Farrington. "It's made up to ruin me! Will ye believe +sich a story?" + +"Just wait a minute," continued Stephen, holding forth another small piece +of paper. Here is further evidence which might be of some service. Listen +to this. + +"'Glendow, Friday, Oct. 30th, 18-- Received from William Fletcher, the sum +of $5,000 in gold, in an iron box, to be kept for him in trust in my safe +until called for, he promising to pay me one dollar a month for the use of +my safe. 'SILAS FARRINGTON.'" + +An intense silence now reigned in the hall. All were waiting to see what +would happen next. It was the calm before the storm. The people were more +than surprised, they were dumfounded at this sudden turn of events. The +purpose of the meeting was forgotten. Then one wild cry went up. There was +confusion everywhere, all talking and shouting at once. At this the +chairman rose to his feet, and held up his hand for peace. Gradually the +commotion subsided, and all waited to hear what he had to say. + +"We are much astonished at what has happened," he began. "It is a very +serious matter. These papers are of a most damaging nature to one of the +candidates here to-night. He has emphatically denied the statements made +therein. But we demand further proof. Let him now come forward and speak. +Perhaps he can explain matters fully." + +"Hear! Hear!" came from every part of the building. + +Half dazed and trembling, Farrington staggered forward, and grasped the +back of a chair for support. + +"It's a lie, I tell ye!" he shouted. "But I want to ax one question. Whar +did them papers come from? Ye all know very well that everything was +burned which old Billy had in the house. Not a scrap of anything was left, +and how did them papers escape? That's proof enough to show what a mean +trick has been played upon me. I am the one to ax fer an explanation." + +"That shall be granted at once," Stephen replied, and in a few words he +told of Tony Stickles' arrival, their search beneath the large +hearth-stone, and the discovery of the iron box containing the valuable +papers. + +"Tony is here," said Stephen in conclusion, "and if you do not believe me, +ask him." + +But there was no need for Tony's witness. The evidence was already strong +enough, and the people were aroused. + +"Mr. Farrington," said the chairman, motioning the audience to be quiet. +"If you have that gold in your safe, it will save considerable trouble if +you produce it at once. If it is there and you have kept silence and +allowed that man of God to suffer, you deserve the severest punishment. Is +it the wish of the people here that the safe should be opened?" + +"Ay, ay!" came like a roar of thunder. + +"Ye can't do it!" yelled Farrington, rising to his feet. "It's my private +property, an' I defy anyone to touch my safe." + +"Oh, we'll not touch it," the chairman coolly remarked. "We'll not lay +hands on it. All we ask you to do is to throw open the door and show us +what's inside." + +"It ain't lawful, I say," shouted the desperate man. + +"Maybe it isn't lawful. But we'll attend to that, I reckon. Sometimes +people take the law into their own hands, and I guess that's what we'll do +to-night. In my opinion there's not a judge or a jury in the whole land +but would support our action. Come now, you'd better do as we desire at +once." + +Farrington, excited though he was, found it necessary to do some rapid +thinking. He knew he could not delay that angry assembly much longer. One +hope only remained, and upon this he acted. + +"Very well," he replied, "I might as well go at once. Come when you like, +you kin examine everything in the safe. I'm not afeer'd fer ye to look." + +He took a step or two forward with the intention of leaving. + +"Wait a minute," said the chairman. "Don't be in too big a hurry. We'll go +along with you. It's always good to have company on such occasions." + +"I don't want anyone," snapped Farrington, turning angrily upon him. + +"No, I know you don't. But we're not considering your feelings just now." + +"Then, I'll not go! Do what you like with me!" and Farrington sank back +upon the seat, a pitiable bundle of wretched humanity. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + +In the Toils + + +During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained +motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great +rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a +way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was +changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited +condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but +thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours +would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How +the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing +the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had +he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which +took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman +ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his +safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave +one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor. + +At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through +the crowd into the open air. + +Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the +seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair. + +"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through +with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night. +Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?" + +No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very +well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?" + +"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a +number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now. +They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an +innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington +committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in +this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months, +stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the +bounds of reason. + +"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him. + +"Will you come, then?" + +"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply. + +"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door, +he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and +almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the +road. The store was reached. + +"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it." + +This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building. + +"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there." + +But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man +who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to +the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from +the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his +gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for +their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only +between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused. +How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his +forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body. + +"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around. + +A yell was the only response to his appeal. + +"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a +coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands +outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go +up to the first limb." + +"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long +piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out +the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure +would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in +this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the +noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe. +With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination +would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and +more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality +he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length +the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron +hinges. + +"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman. + +One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back +corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark +upon it. + +A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of +derision. + +"Order!" commanded the chairman. + +"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?" + +"Y-y-es." + +"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame +for stealing it?" + +"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I +was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything." + +There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear +did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the +sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then +a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried +forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place, +making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors +flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar +used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and +the odour was pouring forth. + +"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help! +Murder!" + +But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his +clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered +feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless. +He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very +ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were +handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they +watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair. + +When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped +out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main +store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It +had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and +cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding +feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he +presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and +feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing +what to expect. + +"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house, +"and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for +yourself and family." + +As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood +back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store +to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes +could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at +length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep +sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with +Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did +not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective +remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in +righteous indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the +cat-o'-nine-tails or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in +accordance with the British Constitution it is certainly the most +effective way of dealing with some mean, contemptible cases. And +Farrington's was one of them. With clever legal counsel he might be able +to prove that he was acting within his right in holding the money "until +called for," according to the wording of the paper he had signed, while +the real motive that prompted him to keep silence might not be considered +at all. + +Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried +home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left +for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair +and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been +suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness. +He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned +how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see +her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so +unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was +she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was +unbearable without her sweet, loving presence. + +At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to +sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might +his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man, +with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why +should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as +soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once? +Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole +softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and +turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of +paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his +mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to +find it in the morning. + +Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn. +His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in +resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of +the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as +Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then +the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider +sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills. + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + +Waiting and Serving + + +"I feel completely side-tracked now. Life moves forward, but here I am a +useless burden." + +It was Parson John who spoke, as he leaned back in an easy-chair and gazed +dreamily out of the window. + +Nellie laid down the book she had been reading aloud and looked anxiously +at her father. This was the third day they had been at Morristown, and it +was the first time her father had uttered any word of complaint. The +change had been restful, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been +so many things to see and to talk about with his brother that he hardly +missed the separation from Glendow. A sense of glad freedom had been his. +There was no responsibility of parish work, and no long, tiresome drives +ahead. He need not worry about sermons for the following Sunday, nor feel +concerned for any who might be sick. It was a luxury to sit there quietly +in the large, airy room with the fresh breath of spring pervading the +place, and to watch the trees putting forth their tender leaves and the +fields donning their robe of green, yellow and white. Occasionally Nellie +read to him from some favourite author, although much of her time was +taken up helping her aunt with various household duties. The change which +she beheld in her father caused her much joy. "It is just what he needs," +she thought. "A good rest will restore him more than anything else." So +now on this bright afternoon to hear him complain of being side-tracked, +of no use in the world, worried her. + +"You must remember, father dear," she replied, "it is well to be +side-tracked sometimes. Engines are often laid by for repairs, and I have +heard you say that we need rest that mind and body might be strengthened." + +"True, very true, Nellie. But I seem to be useless. There are so many +things to be done, and but little time in which to do them. When one has +been engaged in a work for over thirty years it is not easy to lay it +suddenly aside. It becomes part of one's life. Some may think that rest is +sitting still and doing nothing. But to me such a thought is terrible. +'Rest,' as a great poet has well said, 'is not quitting life's busy +career. Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere!'" + +"Yes, father, but did not blind old Milton say that 'They also serve who +only stand and wait.'" + +"But how am I serving, Nellie? What is there for me to do here? I sit all +day long and think, while others serve me." + +"Father," Nellie replied after a brief silence, "I believe a stroll would +do you good. You have been staying in the house too much. I have +discovered some very pleasant walks out from the village, and, if it will +not weary you, suppose we start off now." + +Her father looked up quickly at the suggestion. + +"Capital!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I need. I am becoming too moody, +and the fresh air will revive me." + +He was almost like a child now in his eagerness to be off. With his stout +cane in one hand, and leaning upon his daughter's arm, he moved slowly +along the dry road, through the village and out into the country where the +houses were few. + +"Oh, this is life, grand, true life!" and he stood for a few minutes +looking far away across the broad fields. The air laden with the freshness +of spring drifted about them; the birds flitting overhead were pouring +forth their joyous music, while on every side early flowers were lifting +their tiny heads. All nature seemed to combine to give a glad welcome to +these two wayfarers. + +At length, coming to a cross road, Nellie paused. + +"Look, father," and she pointed to a large tree near by. "What a cool, +shady spot! Suppose we rest there for a while, and I will read some from +the little book I have brought with me." + +Willingly Mr. Westmore conceded to her wish, and soon they were snugly +seated on the grassy sward. With his back against the tree, Parson John +breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead +with a large, white handkerchief. + +So absorbed did they both become in the book that neither noticed the +black clouds which had been gathering away to the south, and were now +rolling up fearful and threatening beneath the sun. A distant peal of +thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning, startled them. + +"A storm is coming!" exclaimed Nellie, springing to her feet. "We must +hurry home at once! The road to the right is shorter. I know it quite +well; we had better take that." + +They had not proceeded far, however, before the peals of thunder became +more intense, and soon large drops of rain came spattering down. + +"We're in for a heavy storm," panted Mr. Westmore. "It's about to burst +upon us. We must seek shelter!" + +"There's a house right ahead," Nellie replied. "Perhaps we can get in +there." + +They plodded on in silence now, and turned in at a little gate none too +soon. Scarcely had they entered the small porch in front of the house ere +the storm broke. Hail, mingled with rain, came thundering down upon the +roof, and, dashing against the glass, threatened to smash in every pane. +The thunder crashed and shook the house, while the lightning streaked the +air with blinding flashes. + +"This is terrible!" exclaimed Nellie, clinging to her father's arm, her +face very white. "We must get into the house!" + +They knocked upon the door, but received no response. Again they rapped +louder than before, and at length a key was slowly turned and a woman, +neatly dressed and fair to look upon, peered timidly forth. A relieved +look came into her face as she saw the two standing there. + +"Come in," she said, giving a little nervous laugh. "This fearful storm +has quite overcome me." + +She led the way into a cosy sitting-room, and offered her visitors chairs. + +"You will pardon our intrusion, I am sure," explained Mr. Westmore. "We +came simply for shelter. We are much obliged to you." + +"Not at all, sir," replied the woman. "I am so glad you came. I am alone +with the children, and they are all much frightened." + +"And your husband is away?" + +"Yes. He's been gone all winter. He was working in the woods for Rodgers & +Peterson, and is now on the drive." + +"Dear me! it must be hard for you to have him away so much." + +"It is, sir. But he will stay home after this. He has earned enough this +winter to make the last payment on our farm. We have been struggling for +years, saving every cent and working hard to get the place free from debt, +and now it will be our very own if--if--," and the woman hesitated. + +"How glad your husband will be to be home," said Nellie, with her eyes +fixed upon several bright little faces in the doorway. "He must long to +see you all." + +"Ay, indeed he does, but especially Doris. She is our invalid girl, you +see, and is very dear to us. She can't romp and play like the others, and +I suppose for that reason she appeals to us the more." + +"Has she been ill long?" questioned Mr. Westmore, becoming now much +interested. + +"For five years. It's hip disease, and she will never walk without a +crutch, if she does then. Perhaps you would like to see her." + +They were conducted into a small bedroom, and the sight which met their +eyes moved them both. Lying on the bed was a girl of about fifteen years +of age, with a sweet, fair face, large, expressive eyes, and a high +forehead crowned by a wealth of jet-black hair, parted in the middle and +combed back with considerable care. The room was as neat and clean as +loving hands could make it. A bright smile illumined the girl's face, +which Nellie thought the most beautiful she had ever looked upon. + +"It's so good of you to come to see me," she said. "Very few come, and I +do get lonely at times." + +"You will be glad when your father comes home, will you not?" Nellie +remarked, taking the girl's thin, white hand. + +"Oh, it will be delightful! He has been away so long. Let me see," and she +counted on her fingers. "He has not been home since Christmas." + +"But he writes to you, though?" + +"Yes, such lovely letters, all about his work. But the last one was so +sad. I have cried over it many times. I have it right here. Would you like +to read it? It's so interesting." + +"Suppose you tell us about it, dear," said Mr. Westmore, taking a chair by +the side of the bed. "That will be better." + +The girl's face flushed a little, and she hesitated. + +"I'm afraid I can't tell it half as well as father does in his letter. You +know, the men were bringing the logs down Big Creek Brook, and they all +got stuck in a nasty place called Giant Gorge. One big log in some way, I +don't understand, stopped the rest, and it had to be cut out. It was a +dangerous thing to do, and the men drew lots to see who would go down into +that awful place. And just think, papa drew the paper with the mark upon +it, which meant that he was to do it! I shudder and cry every time I think +about it. Well, as dear papa was about to go, a young man, Tony Stickles, +sprang forward and said he would go, because papa had six children and a +wife who needed him. Wasn't that lovely of him? I should like to see him. +And just think, before papa could stop him he sprang upon the logs, cut +away the one which held the rest, and all rushed down right on top of him. +Papa said he was sure Tony would be killed, but he jumped from one log to +another, and when all thought he would get to the shore, the logs opened +and he fell into the water. Then something wonderful happened, so papa +said. As Tony was clinging there a boy suddenly came along, jumped upon +the logs, ran over them, and pulled Tony out just in time. But a log hit +the poor little boy, and Tony had to carry him ashore. Don't you think +that's a lovely story, and weren't they both very brave, real heroes like +you read about in books? Oh, I lie here hour by hour and think it all +over!" + +The girl's face was quite flushed now, for she had spoken hurriedly, and +her eyes shone brighter than ever. She was living the scene she related. + +"What a nice story you have told us," Nellie replied when Doris had +finished. "I am glad to hear what a brave deed Tony did, for we both know +him." + +"What! you know him?" cried the girl. + +"Yes, very well. Ever since he was a baby." + +"How nice it must be to know a real hero!" sighed the girl. "Please tell +me about him." + +And there in the little room Nellie told about Tony, his mother, brothers +and sisters, to which Doris listened most eagerly. + +"We must go now," said Mr. Westmore rising to his feet and looking out of +the window. "The storm has cleared and the sun is shining brightly." + +"But you will both come again, won't you?" Doris inquired as she held out +her hand. + +"Yes, if you want us to do so," Nellie replied. "But we don't wish to tire +you." + +"You won't tire me. I long for someone to talk to, and you know so much." + +Parson John had now left the room, and Nellie was holding the girl's hand. +She glanced at the door to make sure that her father could not hear, then +she bent over the bed. + +"Did your father tell you the name of that boy who saved Tony's life?" + +"No. He said he didn't know." + +"Did he say what he was doing there?" + +"No, only he had a funny little letter for Tony. It was in his pocket, and +when they opened it a small rose fell out." + +"And he didn't say what the letter was about?" + +"No." + +"Thank you, dear, I must go now," and as Nellie stooped down and gave the +girl a kiss, Doris suddenly clasped her arms about her neck. + +"I love you! I love you!" she murmured. "You are so beautiful and good! +Come soon, will you?" + +"Yes, dear, to-morrow, perhaps," and as Nellie left the room her eyes were +moist with the tears she found impossible to restrain. + +As she walked along the wet road by her father's side her mind was busy +thinking over what she had just heard. Who was that boy? He must be a +stranger to that place, and what was the letter about? Could it be Dan? +How often had she and her father talked about the boy. They believed that +he would come back some day. Suddenly there flashed into her mind the +persistent efforts Dan had made to write a letter, and how he had time and +time again asked her the way to spell certain words. She had thought +little about it then, but now she remembered that one of the words was +"Tony." Her father looked up in surprise as Nellie paused, and clutched +his arm more firmly. + +"What's the matter, dear?" he asked. "Are you tired? Perhaps we are +walking too fast." + +"No, father," and Nellie gave a little laugh. "I was Only thinking, and my +thoughts run away with me sometimes. But I am glad we are almost home, for +the walking is heavy and our shoes are covered with mud. See that +beautiful rainbow, father!" + +They both stood still for a few minutes, and looked upon the grand arch +spanning the heavens and resting upon earth. + +"The bow of promise, Nellie," said Mr. Westmore. "It appears to-day, the +same as of old, to remind us all that 'His mercies still endure, ever +faithful, ever sure.'" + +"Perhaps it's a sign to us, father, that our storm has past, and the sun +will break forth again." "It may be true, child. God grant it so," and +Mr. Westmore sighed as he turned in at the gate leading to his brother's +house. + + + + +Chapter XXIX + +Rifted Clouds + + +Again the next day they both visited the invalid girl. Nellie read to her, +while Parson John sat and listened. They were becoming firm friends now, +and Doris chatted unreservedly. + +"I shall tell papa all about you," she said. "I have a letter almost +finished, and shall mail it to-night. How I wish you could see him." + +All through the day Dan had been much in Nellie's mind. The idea which had +come to her the evening before was growing stronger. She believed it was +Dan and no other who had rescued Tony. It was just like him, and she +thought of the afternoon he had saved her and her cousin on the river. +Should she tell her father? That was the question which she debated with +herself hour after hour, and when they returned from their visit to Doris, +she had not yet decided. + +That evening she strolled out of the house, and down the road leading to a +little brook. The air was balmy and fresh, and this was her favourite +walk. Trees lined the way, stern old oaks, beeches and maples--the grove +on her uncle's farm, the place where people came for miles to hold +picnics. + +As Nellie walked along her thoughts turned often to Glendow. She wondered +what Stephen was doing, and if his logs were rafted. She missed him +greatly. They had been so much together, had grown up as children, but not +until this separation had she fully realized what he meant to her. She +thought of the night he had come to tell about Nora and to say good-bye. +Her face flushed, and a sweet peace came into her heart as she dwelt upon +Stephen's manner that night--his confusion--his stammering words--and the +burning kiss upon her hand. She stood on the little bridge now, in the +quiet dusk of even, leaning against the railing and looking pensively down +into the shallow water below. Suddenly she raised her hand and pressed it +again and again to her lips--the same hand which Stephen had kissed. + +A step upon the bridge startled her, and her heart beat fast. Had anyone +seen what she did? She thought she was alone, but somebody was coming. She +turned away her flushed face, and gazed down into the water, leaning her +arms upon the railing. The steps drew nearer. They were opposite her, and +soon they would pass. Some neighbour, no doubt, going home. If he had seen +her action he would tell others, and soon every person around would know. +Presently the steps paused. The silence frightened her. It was dusk; no +house in sight, and she was alone. Quickly she faced about, and there +standing before her was Stephen. A cry of surprise escaped her, and the +next instant she felt his strong arms about her and his lips fervently +pressing her own. + +"Stephen!" she cried, struggling to free Herself. "How dare you! When did +you come?" + +"Just from home, and was resting under that big tree," Stephen replied +still holding her tenderly. "I dared much after I saw what you did a few +minutes ago. Oh, Nellie, Nellie. I have been waiting long for this moment! +Surely, surely you are mine at last!" + +The flush had left Nellie's face now, leaving it very white, though in the +deepening twilight this was not noticeable. Her heart was beating +tumultuously, and a new feeling of peace and rest was stealing over her. +How powerful seemed the man standing there. So long had she been called +upon to be strong, always helping, ever taking such a responsible place in +life, caring for her father, strengthening him in his work--and upon her +he depended. But now to feel that she could give herself up to another, +one who had passed through a stern fight in the strength of his sturdy +young manhood, and had come forth as victor. Yet mingling with this +new-found joy came the thought of the dark shadow hanging over her +father's life. How could she be happy when he was in trouble? For his sake +she had kept the brave spirit and presented only the bright sunny face, +and cheery words of hope. The tension for weeks, nay months, had been a +severe strain--and now this sudden joy! It unnerved her. Words would not +come to Stephen's passionate pleading, but in their stead tears stole down +her cheeks, while her form trembled with convulsive sobs. + +Stephen started in surprise. + +"Nellie! Nellie!" he cried. "What have I done! Forgive me! I did not mean +to hurt you! I thought you would understand. If you only knew how I love +you--if you only----" + +"I know it, Stephen--I know it. I am very foolish. Please forgive me. I +cannot explain these tears--they come unbidden." + +"Then you're not unhappy, Nellie? You are not cross with me?" + +"Cross, dear Stephen, no. I am so happy, very happy. But why should I he +happy when my father is in trouble? How dare I! Is it right?" + +"Then you love me, Nellie! Oh, speak the word--let me hear it from your +own lips!" + +"Yes, Stephen, I do love you, don't you know it? I am yours, your very +own." + +"Thank God! thank God!" he cried, drawing her closer to him, and kissing +her again and again. She did not resist now, but allowed him to hold her +there while he breathed into her ear his sweet words of love. They were no +studied, well-rounded phrases, but such as leaped from a true, noble +heart, and the woman listening knew their worth. + +"Why didn't you write to me, Stephen?" Nellie whispered, "and tell me you +were coming? I have been worried lately, and it would have been something +to look forward to." + +"I didn't know I was coming until this morning," came the reply. + +"Didn't know?" + +"No--I left in the night." + +"This is more mysterious than ever." + +"Yes, I left very early this morning, and should have been here by the +middle of the afternoon, but Dexter threw a shoe about five miles back. I +had to leave him at a farm, and walk the remainder of the way. I was +resting by the bridge when you came along. I was quite put out to think I +had to tramp that distance and be so late. But now I know it was for the +best. Doesn't everything turn out right, Nellie?" + +"Y-y--es, some things do," was the reluctant reply. "This has, anyway, and +I try to believe that all things concerning my poor father will come out +right, too. I think we had better go to him now and tell him of our +happiness. It may brighten him up a bit." + +Side by side they walked slowly along the road, and Stephen told the whole +story of Tony's return, the hidden box, the political meeting, the +discovery of the gold in the safe, and Farrington's ignominious +punishment. + +They had reached the house by the time he had finished, and stood for a +moment on the doorstep before entering. In Nellie's heart was such a joy +that words would not come to her lips. She felt she must be asleep, and +would awake to find it only an unsubstantial dream. But Stephen's arm +around her, and his strong presence near, assured her that it was a +blessed reality. + +They found Mr. Westmore sitting alone in his little room, reading by the +shaded lamp. He glanced quickly up and was surprised to see Stephen +standing by Nellie's side. He saw the look of rapture upon their faces, +and read at once the meaning of it all, and into his own weary face came a +light which Nellie had not seen in many a day. She tried to speak, but +words failed, and moving quickly forward she threw her arms about her +father's neck, and kissed him fervently. + +"Oh, father, I am so happy!" she whispered. "Do you know? Can you +understand?" + +"Yes, darling," he replied. "I do understand. Come near, Stephen, my son," +and as the young man approached, he joined their hands, and bade them to +kneel before him. Then stretching out his hand over the bowed heads, and +in a voice trembling with emotion, he gave them his benediction. "May the +Lord bless you and keep you," he said. "May the Lord make His face to +shine upon you, and be gracious unto you, and keep you true to Him and to +each other unto your lives' end." + +Sitting by Mr. Westmore's side that evening, Stephen told the story he had +recently related to Nellie. Parson John sat straight upright in his chair, +and his eyes never once left Stephen's face. + +"And do you tell me!" he cried, when the latter ceased, "that Dan is +injured--lying unconscious?" + +"He was when Tony left." + +"Poor dear boy! and he did it all for me!" murmured the parson. "What a +sacrifice to make of his bright young life I I must go to him, Nellie, at +once! In the morning! Poor Dan! Poor Dan!" + +Thus the three sat for some time talking of the accident and planning for +the journey. Not once did Mr. Westmore speak about the recovery of the +gold, but that night in the quietness of his own room he poured out his +soul, in a great, fervent prayer of thankfulness to the Father above, and +also he sought His aid on behalf of a little wounded lad lying on a bed of +pain in a farm-house miles away. + + + + +Chapter XXX + +Beneath the Surface + + +Across the mouth of Big Creek stream a long double boom cradled the large +"R & P" drive. The last log had shot safely down the crooked brook and +rested calmly by the side of its companions. There were thousands of them +there, scarred and battered by rock and flood; worthy veterans were they, +this hardy army of the forest, reposing now after their fierce, mad +charge. + +The work of the drivers was done, and the last peevy had been tossed with +a resounding thud among its companions. A score of men were they who for +months had been confined to the lonely life of the woods, and who for days +had often been face to face with death. Naturally their eyes turned +towards the river some distance away. There on its bank nestled the little +town, and there, too, stood the Flood Gate Tavern, the most notorious +place in the whole countryside. How often during the winter evenings had +they talked of the many wild scenes which had been enacted there, and of +the wages of months squandered in a night. Though they talked about the +place and cursed it, yet, like moths singed by the candle's flame, they +had returned spring after spring to the Hood Gate Tavern to spend the +wages needed at home. Their money, too, was awaiting them there in the +Company's office. But now they hesitated. Never before had such a thing +been known. Formerly there was a rush to the town when the last log had +come in. + +It was evening as the men stood there, and the sun was hanging low far in +the west. The yearning for the tavern was strong--it called, it appealed +to them. But another power was holding these rugged drivers in check. +Their hearts had been much stirred these last few days, although not one +acknowledged it. A little helpless, suffering child was unconsciously +restraining the brute nature within them. He was holding them in leash, +binding them by strange, invisible cords. In silence they ate their supper +in the rafting house near by. + +"Boys," said Jake Purdy as the men sat outside smoking. "I'm goin' down +town to see if there's any mail. Any of ye comin'?" + +It was all that was needed, and at once every man responded. Down the road +they marched, their great boots making a heavy thud as they moved along. +Into the post office they tramped, and stood around while the few letters +were doled out. For Jake, there was one, written by a child's trembling +hand. Eagerly he opened it, and, as he read, his face underwent a +remarkable change. The rugged lines softened, and when he turned to the +men waiting for him, there was no gruffness in his voice. + +"'Spose we git our money, lads, an' hike back," he remarked. + +"Ay, ay," was the response, but in several hearts there was a keen longing +to remain. + +Right in front of the Company's office stood the Flood Gate Tavern. The +proprietor had been expecting the drivers and was well stocked up. He saw +them coming into town and watched them enter the office for their money. + +"They'll be here soon, Joe," he said to his assistant, "an' mind ye don't +let an opportunity slip. Them bottles must go tonight. I know there'll be +lively times about here. Them d--n temperance workers are dead set agin +us, an' it looks as if they'd make trouble. But we'll win out tonight, and +they can go to ----. Say, here they come. Now for the time--an' money. Oh, +they're jist achin' to give me their wages. They won't forgit old Ned, +that's sure. Ha, ha!" and the saloon-keeper rubbed his hands with glee. + +The drivers were outside the office now, and were casting furtive glances +across the way. Big Jake saw the looks and knew the longing which dwelt in +their hearts. He drew forth his pipe, stuck his little finger deliberately +into the bowl to see how much tobacco it contained. + +"Boys," he began, "have yez anything on fer the night?" + +"No," came the somewhat surly response, "unless we go over there." + +"Don't go," said Jake. "We've spent too much there in past years. Let's +save our money fer them wot needs it at home. Let me tell ye somethin'. +Comin' down the road from the boom to-night I felt like seven devils. I +was jist longin' to git into that saloon an' have a big drink. But as luck +'ud have it I went into the post office first, an' found this here letter. +An' who is it from, d'ye think? From me own little sick lassie at home. +Look at the writin', boys. Ain't it fine? An' what a letter it is. She +says she's waitin' fer me, an' counts the days until I come. Listen to +these words: 'Don't go near the saloon, papa. Come straight home, an' +bring the money to pay fer the farm. I pray fer you every day, papa, an' I +pray fer all the men on the drive, and fer that poor little boy who got +hurt.' Ain't them great words, boys?" + +"Ay, ay," came the reply, and into several hearts throbbed a desire to be +stronger men, and a few brushed their sleeves across their eyes. + +"But that ain't all," Jake continued. "She says that little boy wot got +hurt belongs to an old man--a parson--an' his beautiful daughter, who have +been good to her. They didn't know where the little boy was, but when they +found out they was all upsot, an' left in a hurry, but stopped in to say +good-bye to my little Doris. That was two days ago, and they must be up +there at Big Sam's now. Boys, let me tell ye this: Anyone who is good to +my little sick lass is good to me, an' Jake Purdy isn't a man to fergit; +yez know that. Now I have a suggestion to make. Instead of spendin' our +hard-earned money with that old wretch, Ned, let's go up in a body to the +house an' inquire fer the sick lad. We can't do nuthin', I know, but mebbe +it'll please the old man an' his daughter to know that we ain't fergotten +the brave little boy. An' come to think further it's no mor'n our duty. +That lad saved one of us from death, an' the one that was saved, saved me. +Boys, ye can do as yez like, but I'm goin' anyway." + +There was no hesitation now among these men. With one accord they turned +their backs upon the village, and struck along the road leading out into +the country. Old Ned, the saloon-keeper, watched them in amazement. Never +before had they done such a thing. What would become of all the whisky in +those bottles standing on the shelves? + +"The idiots!" he yelled. "What's the matter with 'em?" + +Bareheaded he rushed out into the street and lifted up his voice. + +"Hi! hi!" he shouted. + +The drivers paused and looked around. + +"Wait!" panted Ned running up to where they were standing. + +"What's wrong, old man?" questioned one. + +"Wrong! What's wrong with you? Why are ye leavin' without droppin' in to +see me? Surely ye ain't goin' to go away without a friendly call?" + +"Look here, Ned," replied Jake, acting as spokesman for the others, "we've +made too many friendly calls at your place fer our own good. This year +we're goin' to cut it out. So go home an' don't interfere." + +Had the saloon-keeper been less excited he would have noticed the warning +note in Jake's voice, and the sombre looks of the rest. They were in no +mood for interruption at the present time. But Ned was blind to all this. + +"Ye fools!" he roared, stamping on the ground in his rage. "Will ye let +all that good stuff spile down yonder? Surely ye ain't gone an' jined the +temperance gang, an' took the pledge?" + +Fiercely Jake turned upon him. + +"Ned," and his voice was laden with meaning, "will ye go home an' leave us +alone?" + +"No, h----if I will, unless ye all come back with me." + +Jake's eyes turned suddenly to the right. They rested upon a pond of dirty +water several feet deep lying there. Like a flash he reached out and +caught the saloon-keeper in both hands, lifted him clear of the ground, +carried him wriggling and cursing to the edge, and tossed him in like a +ball. With a splash and a yell Ned went under, came up puffing and +blowing, and dashing the water from his eyes and ears. A shout of derision +went up from the drivers. + +"Go home now, Ned," they cried. "You've soaked us fer years with yer +stuff, an' you've got soaked now. Good-bye." + +With that they continued on their way, leaving the victim to scramble out +of the pond and make his way home, beaten and crestfallen. + +Along the road the drivers marched, then up the hill leading to Big Sam's +abode. It was dim twilight as they stood before the house. The evening was +balmy, and the front door stood partly open. For a minute they hesitated, +and a whispered conversation ensued. + +"You go in, Jake. You've got a tongue fer sich things," suggested his +companions. + +But before a reply could be made there floated out upon the air a sweet +voice singing an old familiar hymn. Instinctively every driver pulled off +his rough hat, and bowed his shaggy head. It was a woman's voice they +heard, low and tender. There was a pleading note in the singer's voice-- +the cry of a soul for help in trouble. + +Little did Nellie realize as she sat by Dan's side this evening, and sang, +that she had such attentive listeners. The past two days had been a time +of much anxiety. When first she and her father had arrived, Dan did not +know them. He was lying upon the bed, his little curly head resting upon +the pillow as white as his own white face. Would he ever come out of that +stupor? they asked each other time and time again as they sat and watched +him. Often he talked, calling aloud for help, and pleading for someone to +hurry. Now it was of Tony and again Nellie and Parson John. Occasionally +he mentioned his father, and asked why he was so long in coming. The +doctor stood by the bedside with an anxious face. + +"Do you think he will recover?" Nellie asked. + +"I can't say," was the reply. "He has been badly injured. But we should +know soon one way or the other. This condition can't go on much longer." + +It was hard for Nellie to persuade her father to take any rest. He would +insist upon sitting by the bed, and holding Dan's hand. + +"Poor, dear boy," he murmured. "Why did you do it? Why did you run such a +risk for my sake?" + +Once coming quietly into the room Nellie saw her father kneeling by the +bedside. His lips were moving in silent prayer. In his heart a deep love +had been formed for this little wounded lad. For months past the two had +been much together, and the bond of affection had been strongly formed. At +length Nellie had persuaded her father to take some rest. He had cast one +long, searching look upon the boy's face, and then silently left the room. +For some time Nellie sat by Dan's side watching his fitful breathing. One +little hand lay outside the quilt. Would it ever work for her again? she +wondered. It was a brown hand--the same hand which had reached over and +drawn Tony from death. As she sat there the door was quietly pushed open, +and Marion stood before her. Her eyes looked towards the bed with a +questioning appeal. In her right hand she clutched a little rose. It was +the first time she had been in the sick room, and on this evening while +her mother was busy she had softly stolen away. + +"Give dis to ittle sick boy," she said. "He like pitty woses." + +"Come here, dear," Nellie replied, and as the child approached she took +the flower, and placed the stem in Dan's doubled-up hand. She did it +merely to please Marion, but it thrilled her own heart to behold the +little maiden's sweet offering lying in that poor, nerveless fist. "God +bless you, darling," she said, drawing Marion to her. "You love the sick +boy, don't you?" + +"Me love him," came the response, "an' me lore oo. Will Dod make him +better?" + +"God will do what is best, dearie. You will pray for him, won't you?" + +"Me pray for him every night. Will oo sing to Dod to make him better?" + +"Why do you wish me to sing?" + +"When I'm sick my mamma sings to Dod. I fink He hears better dat way, an' +I det better. Will oo sing?" + +"If you wish me to, I will." + +"Let me det in oor lap den," and Marion, climbing up, made herself +perfectly at home. + +Nellie was not in a singing mood this evening, but the child's words had +touched her. She thought they were alone--just two, to hear. Verse after +verses she sang, and as she reached the chorus of the last verse she gave +a start of surprise, suddenly ceased, and looked towards the door. A +number of men's voices had taken up the chorus, and they were singing, not +loud, but as softly as possible: + + "Safe in the arms of Jesus, + Safe on His gentle breast, + There by His love o'ershadowed + Sweetly my soul shall rest." + +Nellie had put Marion down now, had risen to her feet, and crossed the +room to the door. Almost unconsciously the drivers had joined in that +chorus. They had forgotten how it would startle the sweet singer, and when +they saw Nellie standing in the doorway they were much abashed. They felt +like a group of schoolboys caught in some act of mischief, and they longed +to get away. + +As Nellie looked upon them, a bright smile illumined her face. She +surmised the purpose of their visit, and it pleased her. + +"Thank you for that chorus," she said, hardly knowing what else to say. "I +didn't know you were here." + +"Pardon us, miss," Jake replied, stepping forward. "It wasn't fair of us +to be standin' here listenin'. But we couldn't help it. An' when ye sang +that old hymn it jist melted us down. We come to inquire about the boy. +Mebbe ye'd tell us how he's gettin' along." + +"There's no change as yet, that we can see," Nellie replied. "But the +doctor says it must come soon one way or the other. Would you like to see +him? If you come in one at a time, I don't think it will do any harm." + +Without a word Jake followed her into the room, and stood with his hat in +his hand looking down upon the bed. + +"Poor little chap," he whispered. "Ain't it a pity?" + +Hardly had he ceased speaking when Dan suddenly opened his eyes and looked +about him in a dazed manner. + +"Where--where's my rose?" he cried. + +Nellie was by his side in an instant. + +"Here, Dan," and she lifted up the flower so he could see it. "Hush now, +don't speak." + +Dan gave a sigh of relief. He looked wearily around, then his eyes slowly +closed, and he passed into a gentle sleep. A step was heard in the room, +and the doctor stood by the bed. + +"When did the change take place?" he asked. + +"Just now," Nellie replied in a low voice. + +"It is well. The crisis is past. He must have perfect quietness. We'll +pull him through now, for sure." + +Jake waited to hear no more. He stole from the house, and motioned to his +companions. Silently they moved away and strode back to the camp. They +were rough men outwardly, this score of river drivers, but a glimpse had +been seen beneath the surface. Their hearts had been stirred as never +before, and they were not ashamed. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + +Light at Eventide + + +It was a bright buoyant day, with scarcely a cloud to be seen. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air, and every nimble leaf was still. The river +flowed on its way, its glassy surface mirroring the numerous trees along +its banks. Across the fields, fresh with the young green grass, came the +sweet incense wafted up from countless early flowers. + +Several people stood before the Rectory, beneath the shade of a large +horse-chestnut tree. Their eyes were turned up the road with an eager, +watchful expression. Across the gateway a rude arch had been formed, and +upon it the words "Welcome Home" in large white letters had been painted, +while evergreens and leaves lavishly decorated the whole. It was Glendow's +preparation for the return of their absent Rector and his daughter. + +Numerous changes had taken place since the night on which the gold had +been found in the safe. The store was now closed and the Farringtons had +departed. There had been many threats made by the defeated storekeeper, +but they amounted to nothing. Glendow had been aroused, and the one desire +which filled all hearts was to have their old Rector back again. They +realized as never before the sterling character of the man they had +suspected, and what a true friend they had lost. Dan's accident soon +reached their ears, and all breathed a prayer of thankfulness when news +arrived of his recovery. Nothing short of a reception must take place, and +so now more than threescore people, old and young, stood anxiously +awaiting the arrival. + +"There they come," shouted one, and far up the road a cloud of dust could +he seen, and soon a carriage was observed bowling along, containing Parson +John, Nellie and Dan. + +Their eyes opened wide with amazement as they drew near, saw the cheering +crowd, and drove beneath the overhanging arch. Silently they alighted and +grasped the numerous outstretched hands. The past was forgotten in the joy +of the present, and the shepherd and his flock were once again united. + +"It all seems like a wonderful dream," said Parson John to Nellie as they +sat that evening together after the others had departed. "We went out as +culprits, with only a few to bid us good-bye, and now we come home to the +love of our people. Surely the Lord has been good to us, and has led us by +ways that we knew not. Truly His ways are not our ways, and He does all +things well." + +Dan speedily recovered his former strength and his old-time spirit. He was +like a new lad. The weight which had pressed upon him so long had been +removed. He felt he was no longer a sponger, a useless being. His longing +to read and write increased, and as the days passed he made rapid +progress. Mr. Westmore loved to have the boy by his side and would often +read to him, and Dan would always listen with deep wonder. New fields of +knowledge were being gradually opened of which he knew nothing. + +"When I grow to be a big man will I know all about those things?" he one +day asked, when Mr. Westmore had been reading to him from an interesting +book of History. + +"That all rests with yourself, Dan," was the reply. "If you want to know, +you can. But it will mean hard work. There is no royal road to learning." + +"Then I'm going to learn," Dan emphatically responded, and from that day +Mr. Westmore began to plan for the boy's future as he had never done +before. + +One evening about sundown, several weeks later, Nellie and her father were +sitting on the veranda. It was a sultry night, and far in the distance +faint rumblings of thunder could be heard. + +"A storm is coming," Nellie remarked. "I hope Mr. Larkins will get back +from the office before it reaches us." + +Hardly had she spoken ere a step sounded upon the gravel walk and Mr. +Larkins appeared. + +"We were just speaking about you," Nellie exclaimed, and now you are +here." + +"You know the old saying," he laughingly replied. + +"Have a seat, do," and Mr. Westmore pushed forward a rustic chair. + +"No, thank you, I have some chores to do before the storm breaks. Here is +your mail. Several papers and only one letter." + +"It's from my boy out west," Mr. Westmore remarked after Mr. Larkins had +gone. "We've had little news from him lately. I hope nothing's wrong." + +His hand trembled slightly as he opened the letter and unfolded several +sheets of paper within. Nellie picked up one of the papers, a daily from +the city, and was soon engrossed in its pages. An exclamation from her +father caused her to look quickly up. The expression on his face was one +of joy. It was that of a man from whom a heavy burden of care has been +unexpectedly lifted. + +"Nellie, Nellie!" he cried. "Good news from Philip! He's won his case! The +mine is ours beyond dispute, and it is far richer than was at first +believed. Read it for yourself," and he eagerly thrust the letter into her +hand. + +Trembling with excitement Nellie did as she was commanded. The first part +of the letter told about the long, stern fight which had been made, and of +the victory which had been won. + +"You little know, father dear," Philip wrote in conclusion, "what this +will mean to us all. Upon my suggestion you invested your all in this +mine, and at one time it looked as if we would lose everything. But now +all that is changed. I am a rich man to-day and you will no longer want +for anything. Your investment will be increased a hundredfold, and you +will make more in one year than you have made in your whole life. As soon +as I get matters in a settled condition I hope to come home for a short +visit, and then. I shall be able to tell you everything in detail." + +For some time Nellie held the letter silently in her hand. Her father was +sitting near with a far-away look in his eyes. Gone were time and place. +He was thinking of the day he had bidden Philip good-bye. He saw the +mother clasping her only son to her heart, and it was the last good-bye. +What hopes and fears had been theirs concerning their absent boy. What +struggles had been his out in the great busy world, and how often had his +home letters been weighted with despair. Many and many a night had they +knelt together and lifted up their voices in prayer on Philip's behalf. +Now she was gone. Oh, to have her there by his side to share his joy! A +mistiness rose before his eyes, and several tears stole down his furrowed +cheeks. Hastily he drew forth his handkerchief and brushed them away. +Nellie noticed his embarrassed manner, and surmised the cause. Going over +to where he was sitting she put her arms about his neck and gave him a +loving kiss. + +"You have me, father dear," she said, "and nothing but death can separate +us." + +"I know it, darling. I know it," was the reply. "I am somewhat unsettled +to-night. This news is so sudden. To think that Philip has conquered! Now +you shall have many comforts which have been denied you so long." + +"Don't say that, father dear. What comforts have been denied me? My whole +life has been surrounded by love. We have our little home here, with books +and music in the winter, and the sweet flowers and birds in the summer. +Does not happiness, father, consist in enjoying the good things around us? +Not for my sake am I glad that this good fortune has come, but for yours. +If Philip is correct, and we are to have more money than ever before, you +will be able to rest and enjoy life to the full." + +"Nellie, Nellie! What do you mean? Do I understand you aright? Do you wish +me to give up my work?" + +"But you need rest, father. You have laboured so long, surely you can +afford to let someone else do it now." + +"No, no. The Lord needs me yet. There is much work for me to do. Life to +me is in ministering to others. During those long days at Morristown, when +that cloud overshadowed us, how wretched was my life. Nothing to do--only +to sit with folded hands while others waited upon me. I shudder when I +think of that time. No, let me be up and doing, and God grant I may die in +harness, and not rust out in miserable disuse." + +"But you should have an assistant, father," Nellie suggested, "and he can +give you great help." + +"I have been thinking of that, dear. It seems now as if one great wish of +my life is to be granted. I have always longed to give several years to +God's service, without being chargeable to any one. Oh, to go among my +people, to comfort them, not as a servant, a hireling paid to do such +things, but as a shepherd who loves his flock, and whose reward is in +doing the Master's work, for the good of others. The people may pay the +assistant, but not me. I wish to be free, free for God's service." + +Footsteps were now heard approaching, and in a minute more Stephen stood +before them. The flush of joy that suffused Nellie's face told of the +happiness in her heart. + +"Welcome, Stephen, my son," said Parson John, reaching out his hand. "Your +visit is timely when our cup of joy is full to the brim and running over. +We have not seen you for two whole days. Where have you kept yourself?" + +"Why, Stephen has been to the city," was Nellie's laughing response. +"Didn't I tell you how he had gone with his logs?" + +"Dear me, so you did. How stupid of me to forget." + +"Yes," said Stephen, "my winter's work is all settled and I have come now +to make the first payment on the farm. There it is. Please count it," and +the young man placed a bulky envelope into his Rector's hand. "That is a +token of my new life, and with God's help it shall continue." + +For several minutes Mr. Westmore held the package in his hand without once +looking upon it. + +"Sit down, Stephen," he at length commanded. "I have something to say--to +you--and I feel I can say it now with a clear conscience. Since the day I +paid the four thousand dollars for your homestead, people have been +wondering where I obtained the money, and they certainly had good reason +to wonder. They knew I had invested all I could gather together in that +mine in British Columbia, and that I could pay down such an amount was +very puzzling. It is only right that you and Nellie should hear the truth +from my own lips. You well know," he continued after a pause, "that your +father was a very dear friend of mine. We had grown up as boys together. +We knew each other's affairs intimately, and we often discussed the +future. Your father made considerable money, and had a fairly large bank +account. One day he came to me--only several months before his death--and +we had a most serious talk together. He seemed to have some premonition +that he would not be much longer upon earth, and was most anxious that I +should consent to a plan which he had in his mind. He was fearful lest +after his death something should go wrong. He knew what a headstrong lad +you were, Stephen, and what a temptation it would be to spend recklessly +his hard-earned money. He therefore wished me to act as trustee, with +another firm friend who is living in the city, and to place in the bank in +our names the sum of six thousand dollars. This was to be left there, +unknown to others, until you proved yourself to be a man in every sense of +the word. In case of disaster or trouble we were to use the money at our +discretion for the welfare of the family and not to allow your mother or +sister to come to want. That, in brief, is the substance of the plan. At +first I did not feel like undertaking such a responsibility. But your +father was so insistent I at last consented. I need hardly tell you the +rest, for you know it already. I could not, in justice to your father's +express wish, divulge the secret until I was sure that you had taken a +firm grip of life. You needed to be tested, to pass through the fire. Now +I know you can he depended upon, and so I give you back this money, Keep +it; it is yours, and may God bless you. Part of the balance which remained +in the bank we used on Nora with such splendid results. The rest shall be +handed over to your mother, and I shall thus be relieved of all +responsibility. Will that be satisfactory to you?" + +Mr. Westmore ceased, and held forth the envelope. Stephen had risen now +and was standing erect. His hands remained clasped before him. + +"Take it," said the parson. + +"No," was the reply, "I cannot." + +"You cannot? It is yours!" + +"Yes, I know that. But remember, I have undertaken to pay back that four +thousand dollars. Through my recklessness I made it necessary to use my +dear father's hard-earned money. Not a cent will I touch until the full +amount is restored, and if I have my health it shall be done. Do not urge +me any more. Put that money where it belongs. It may take me some time to +pay all, but not until it is accomplished shall I feel satisfied." + +"Stephen, Stephen!" cried the parson, "give me your hand. Now I know that +you are in earnest. I shall do as you desire. My heart is full of joy +to-night. May God be glorified for all His blessings. I shall away to rest +now, for the many wonders of the day have tired me much." + +The storm which had been threatening rolled to westward. Far off the moon +rose slowly above the horizon. The night was still. Everything betokened +peace. On the little veranda sat the two young lovers hand in hand. Heart +responded to heart, and time was no more. The present and the future were +blended. The rapture of living was theirs, for where love reigns there is +life in all its fulness. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FOURTH WATCH *** + +This file should be named 4wtch10.txt or 4wtch10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 4wtch11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 4wtch10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext05 + +Or /etext04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, +91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + + PROJECT GUTENBERG LITERARY ARCHIVE FOUNDATION + 809 North 1500 West + Salt Lake City, UT 84116 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/4wtch10.zip b/old/4wtch10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d557983 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/4wtch10.zip diff --git a/old/4wtch10h.htm b/old/4wtch10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e86119 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/4wtch10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8834 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> +<TITLE>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody</TITLE> +<META HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1 { margin-top: 2em } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + img { border-style: none } + --> +</style> +</HEAD> +<BODY> +<H1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fourth Watch, by H. A. Cody</H1> + +<PRE> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Fourth Watch + +Author: H. A. Cody + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8198] +[This file was first posted on July 1, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FOURTH WATCH *** + + + + +E-text prepared by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +</PRE> + +<h1>The Fourth Watch</h1> + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps">by</p> + +<h2>H. A. Cody</h2> + +<h3>Author of The Frontiersman, Under Sealed<br />Orders, The Long Patrol, Etc.</h3> + + + + +TO ALL + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps">"Messengers, Watchmen and Stewards of the Lord,"<br /> who have faithfully +toiled through Life's long night,<br /> and now in their Fourth Watch and Last +Watch<br /> behold the dawn of a new Life breaking, this book is<br /> affectionately +dedicated by one but yet in the<br /> Second Watch.</p> + + + + +<h1>Contents</h1> + +<ol style="list-style-type: upper-roman"> + <li><a href="#ch_01">The Awakening</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_02">The Vision</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_03">Glendow Rectory</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_04">The Warder of the Night</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_05">The Breath of Slander</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_06">The Auction</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_07">The Farringtons</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_08">The Golden Key</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_09">Beating the Devil</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_10">In Camp</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_11">Guarding the Flock</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_12">Light and Shadow</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_13">For the Sake of a Child</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_14">The Long Night</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_15">Deepening Shadows</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_16">For Sweet Love's Sake</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_17">Hitting Back</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_18">Wash-Tub Philosophy</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_19">The Sting</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_20">The Overseer</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_21">Decision</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_22">In the Deep of the Heart</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_23">Where Is Dan?</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_24">The Rush of Doom</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_25">Beneath the Ashes</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_26">A Rope of Sand</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_27">In the Toils</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_28">Waiting and Serving</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_29">Rifted Clouds</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_30">Beneath the Surface</a></li> + <li><a href="#ch_31">Light at Eventide</a></li> +</ol> + + + + +<h1>The Fourth Watch</h1> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_01"></a>Chapter I</h1> + +<h2>The Awakening</h2> + + + +<p>The boy plied his hoe in a listless manner, for his thoughts were +elsewhere. Several hundred yards to the right stood the forest, glorious +in its brilliant autumn hues. There among those trees the wary partridges +were feeding or perching temptingly upon bough, fallen log or ragged +stump. To the left the waters of the noble River St. John rippled and +sparkled beneath the glowing sun. Over there amidst that long stretch of +marshland, in many a cove and reedy creek, the wild ducks were securely +hidden. What connection had a rugged, stirring lad with a brown sombre +potato patch when the strong insistent voice of the wild was calling him +to fields afar? There was no inspiration here--among these straggling +rows. Nothing to thrill a boy's heart, or to send the blood surging and +tingling through his body. But there--! He sighed as he leaned upon his +hoe and looked yearningly around. Down on the shore; in a sheltered cove +among the trees, the <i>Scud</i>, a small boat, was idly flapping her +dirty patched sail.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what dad left it up for?" thought the boy.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he's going after more ducks. Wish to goodness he'd help with these +potatoes so I could get off, too."</p> + +<p>Then his eyes roamed out over the water until they rested upon a white +sail away in the distance, bearing steadily down-stream. He watched it +carelessly for some time, but noticing the manner in which it drooped +under an occasional squall his interest became aroused.</p> + +<p>"There's too much canvas, that's sure!" he ejaculated. "Some idiot, I +s'pose, who doesn't know 'bout these squalls. Guess he'll learn soon if he +isn't careful. Now the <i>Scud</i>, she's all right. I'd risk her any +time--My--!" and he almost held his breath as the white sail, much nearer +now, swooped to the water like the wing of a gigantic bird. The boat +righted herself, however, and sped gracefully forward. Again and again she +dipped and careened under each successive squall, winning the lad's +unstinted admiration. But even as he looked and wondered, a furious gust +caught the white sail as it listed heavily, and drove it with one sweep to +the water, overturning the boat as it did so. With a cry of fear the boy +dropped his hoe, stared for an instant at the overturned craft, and then +sped across the potato field sloping to the shore. He did not wait to go +by the path, which led straight up to a little cabin in the valley, but, +making a short cut to the left, leaped into a tangled thicket beyond. He +crashed his way through the branches and underbrush, not heeding the +numerous scratches upon face and hands.</p> + +<p>He reached the <i>Scud</i>, tore, rather than untied the painter from an +old oak root, and sent the boat reeling backwards from its moorings. The +sail flapped wildly in the breeze, which was now growing stronger, and the +craft began to drift. Catching up the centre-board, lying near, the boy +drove it down into its narrow groove with a resounding thud. Seizing the +sheet-line with one hand, and squatting well astern he grasped the tiller +with the other. Nobly the boat obeyed her little determined commander. The +sail filled, she listed to the left and darted forward, bearing bravely up +the wind. Straight ahead the boy could see the distressed boat sinking +lower and lower in the water, with a man and a woman clinging desperately +to the upturned side. The wind was now whistling around him, and at times +threatening to rip away the patched sail. The water was rough, and the +angry white-caps were dashing their cold spray over his clothes. But not +for an instant did he swerve from his course until quite near the wreck. +Then letting go the sheet-line he permitted the boat to fall away a little +to the left. In this manner he was able to swing gradually in a +half-circle, and by the time he was up again to the teeth of the wind the +<i>Scud</i> was lying close to the overturned boat.</p> + +<p>So preoccupied had been the boy up to this moment that he had no time to +observe closely the shipwrecked pair. Now, however, he cast a curious +glance in their direction, as he let go the rudder and sheet-line, and +threw out the painter to the man. Eagerly the latter seized the rope, and +managed to hold the two boats together.</p> + +<p>"Give us yer hand," shouted the boy, "and let her come out first. Be +careful now," he continued as the crafts bumped against each other. +"There, that's good."</p> + +<p>With considerable difficulty the two strangers were rescued from their +perilous position, and then the <i>Scud</i> dropped away from the wreck.</p> + +<p>"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy, as once again he brought the +boat to the wind.</p> + +<p>"Over there," responded the man, pointing to the opposite shore. "We can +land on that point and get driven home."</p> + +<p>Almost mechanically the boy swung the <i>Scud</i> around, and headed her +for the place indicated. From the moment he had caught a glimpse of the +woman clinging to the boat he had found it hard to turn away his eyes. Her +hat was gone, and the wind was blowing her dark-brown hair about her face, +which was white as death. But when she turned her large blue eyes filled +with gratitude and fear upon her rescuer, a strange feeling of +embarrassment swept suddenly over him. Women he had seen before, but none +such as this. How quiet she was, too--not a cry or complaint did she make. +Her clothes were wet; the water cold, and the wind raw. But she sat there +in the boat watching him with those big eyes as he guided the <i>Scud</i> +steadily forward.</p> + +<p>He looked at her dress, how neat and clean it was. Then he glanced at his +own rough togs. How coarse, worn and dirty were they, while his shoes were +heavy grey brogans. A flush mantled his sun-browned face. He shifted +uneasily, gripped the tiller more firmly, and drove the <i>Scud</i> a +point nearer to the wind. What must she think of him? he wondered. Was she +comparing him with the well-dressed man at her side, who was looking +thoughtfully out over the blue water? A feeling of jealousy stole into his +heart. He had never known such a thing before. He knew what it was to be +angry--to stamp and shout in his rage. He had engaged in several pitched +battles with the boys in the neighbourhood who had made fun of him. But +his life--a life of freedom--had satisfied him. To hunt, to trap, to +wander over hill, valley and forest was all that he asked for. He had +never thought of anything higher, never dreamed of any life but the one +his father led, hunting, and trapping in season and making a slight +pretence of farming. Now, however, something was stirring within him. He +longed to show this woman that though his clothes and shoes were rough, he +was almost a man and could do great things.</p> + +<p>"What is your name, my boy?"</p> + +<p>The words startled him, and he glanced quickly up. The woman was looking +at him still, but now she was smiling. Was she laughing at him?</p> + +<p>"My name's Dan," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Dan, Dan what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, just old Jim's boy."</p> + +<p>"Old Jim, Old Jim!" repeated the woman. "Do you mean Jim Flitter, the +trapper?"</p> + +<p>"Yep, that's him."</p> + +<p>"And do you live over there?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. In that shanty up the valley, Dad and I live there alone."</p> + +<p>"Have you no mother, Dan?" and the woman's voice was soft and low.</p> + +<p>"None now."</p> + +<p>She was about to question further, but noticing the look upon the boy's +face she desisted.</p> + +<p>"Do you know you've saved our lives?" she remarked after a short silence. +"I can never thank you enough for what you have done for us to-day. I +don't think I could have clung to that boat much longer."</p> + +<p>"I ain't done nuthin'," Dan replied. "But next time you go out don't carry +so much sail, specially when it's squally. I mayn't always be handy like I +was to-day. But come, we're at the pint, so I'll land you here." Saying +which, Dan let the sail go free, and ran the boat gently up the pebbly +shore.</p> + +<p>"Now, my boy," asked the man, "how much do I owe you?" Dan had stooped and +was about to push the <i>Scud</i> from the beach. He looked up quickly at +the question, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>"How much?" demanded the man, somewhat impatiently.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked the boy.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Simply this. You've done us a great service, saved us +from death, and how much money do you want? How much shall I pay you?"</p> + +<p>"Nuthin'."</p> + +<p>Dan was standing erect now. His dark eyes fixed full upon the man's face, +flashed with anger, while his heart thumped tumultuously beneath his +little checkered shirt.</p> + +<p>"What! won't take any pay!"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Cause I won't. You've no right to ask me. It ain't fair!"</p> + +<p>That was all Dan could utter. He could not express his feelings; +repugnance filled his heart at the thought of taking money for what he had +done. He felt the woman's eyes fixed upon him. What would she think, of +him, Dan Flitter, taking money for saving people's lives? He gave one +quick glance in her direction, turned, and pushing the boat from the +shore, sprang in, leaving the man and the woman upon the beach gazing +wonderingly after him.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_02"></a>Chapter II</h1> + +<h2>The Vision</h2> + + + +<p>"Danny, what's the meaning of this?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Flitter laid down his paper, took his pipe from his mouth, and looked +inquiringly at his son.</p> + +<p>Dan was seated at the farther end of the table, cleaning his beloved +shot-gun. It had done good work that day, and a fine string of partridges +hung in an outer room, ready to go to the store early the next morning. A +week had now passed since the rescue on the river, and during the whole of +that time he had said nothing about it to his father. There was a reason +for this. The latter had been much away from home during the day, only +coming in late at night when his son was in bed, so they had little chance +for conversation. It was a busy season, and they must make the most of it. +So while the one scoured the forest for partridges, the other searched the +river for ducks and geese. But Dan did not feel inclined to say anything +to his father about what he had done. To him it was not worth mentioning. +That he had picked up two shipwrecked people, and set them ashore, in his +eyes was a very simple thing. It was made less so by the thought of that +woman with the large eyes, beautiful face and sunny smile. How could he +describe to his father the new feeling which had come into his breast, the +longing for something more than the life he was leading, and the desire to +show that woman what he really could do?</p> + +<p>His father's sudden question startled him. The mail was carried but once a +week to this place, and by the time the paper arrived from the post office +it was several days old. Mr. Flitter had come home earlier than usual, +having had a fine day's shooting on the river, and was in excellent +spirits. Game was in great demand, and he looked hopefully for good sales +on the morrow. After their scanty meal he picked up the paper and began to +read. Silence reigned in the little dingy shanty for some time, broken +only by the short, sharp question.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know anything about it, Danny?" insisted Mr. Flitter, noticing +the startled and puzzled look upon his son's face.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, dad?"</p> + +<p>"Why, about that wreck on the river. This paper says that you saved two +people from drowning right off here over a week ago."</p> + +<p>Dan's face flushed and his heart beat fast. What! was his name in the +paper? Would the people in the big city see it? What would the boys in the +neighbourhood think? Would they make fun of him any more? He could show +them now that he was somebody, for his name was in the paper! These +thoughts drove surgingly through his brain. He rose from his place and +stood by his father's side.</p> + +<p>"Show me, dad," he whispered; "let me see it."</p> + +<p>"There, Danny, look at the heading:--</p> + +<p>"'A Boy's Brave Deed.'"</p> + +<p>"And is that long piece all about me, dad?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and it states what you did. Why didn't you tell me about it, son?"</p> + +<p>"Where's my name, dad?" asked Dan, unheeding his father's question.</p> + +<p>"There," and Mr. Flitter, pointing with his finger, spelled out the words, +"Daniel Flitter."</p> + +<p>"Does it say, dad, who those people were that got swamped?"</p> + +<p>"No, their names are not given. It only says that the young man lives in +the city. But why didn't you tell me about it, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Thought it wasn't worth while," replied the boy. "But I don't see how +they know about it down there to put it in the paper."</p> + +<p>"How did it happen, son. Let's have the whole story." Mr. Flitter pulled +off his boots, lighted his pipe afresh, and leaned back to listen.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who that woman is," he remarked, when Dan had finished his brief +account. "I know most people for miles around, and it's strange I don't +know her from your description. However, I shall make inquiries and find +out."</p> + +<p>During the days that followed, Dan lived in a new world. His feet trod the +earth, and he trudged for miles the woodland ways. But his mind was in +fairyland.</p> + +<p>It was an enchanted world through which he moved, and he was master of +all. The trees on every side were crowds of admiring people, and the +branches were so many outstretched hands pointing to him. His breast +swelled with pride. He walked erect, his head held high, while his eyes +flashed with a triumphant light. The birds sang his praises; the squirrels +chattered one to another, and every brook babbled "Daniel Flitter, Daniel +Flitter." His name had appeared in the paper! He was no longer an obscure +person, but a hero--a wonder! He kept the clipping carefully wrapped up in +his pocket. Often he would sit down in some quiet forest spot, unfold his +treasure and look long and proudly upon those two magic words. One day as +he sat studying the paper a desire came into his heart to know all of +those wonderful words before and after his name. He could not read, never +having gone to school. In fact he never wanted to do so. His one aim was +to be a mighty hunter and trapper like his father. But now, a longing had +entered his soul; a spark from the mysterious fire of life had found a +lodging which needed only a little fanning to produce a bright and fervent +flame.</p> + +<p>"Dad," said he, that night, while eating his supper, "I wish I knew how to +read. All the boys in this settlement can read and write. Ain't I old +enough to begin?"</p> + +<p>"You're old enough, lad, but we live a long way from the schoolhouse, and +when you were little it was too far for you to walk. You might go this +winter, when there's spare time, if you don't mind the distance."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind that, dad, but all the rest will know so much that they'll +make fun of me. I only know a few of my letters, and mother taught me them +before she died."</p> + +<p>"She did, lad, she did, God bless her," and a huskiness came into Mr. +Flitter's voice as he spoke. "If she were alive now you would know as much +as any boy of your age, for your mother was a smart one, and I guess you +take after her, Dan.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had her now," and the boy gave a deep eigh. "She'd help me every +night, and I wouldn't be stupid any more."</p> + +<p>Mr. Flitter made no reply to these words. He finished his supper in +silence, and while Dan washed the few dishes he sat thoughtfully smoking +his old clay pipe.</p> + +<p>"Laddie," he remarked as they were preparing for bed, "I've been having +deep thoughts to-night, and I've come to the conclusion that I haven't +done right by you. I've neglected you too much."</p> + +<p>"In what way, dad?" questioned the boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, in many ways. I've fed and clothed you, though I guess you've earned +it all. But I've not thought enough about your mind--your education, I +mean. Besides, there are deeper and more serious things in life of which +I've told you nothing. I do feel mighty guilty when I think about it all."</p> + +<p>"You've been good to me, though," and Dan looked inquiringly into his +father's face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a way. But, then, haven't I been good to our old mare, Queen? I +feed and blanket her. But what more have I done for you--and you are my +own son? Now look here," he added, after a pause, "I'm willing to teach +you at nights how to read, and see if we can't make up for my past +neglect."</p> + +<p>"Dad! D'you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"There now, that'll do. No more talking. Let's off to bed, and we'll have +the first lesson to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>The days that followed were busy ones for Dan. The shooting season closed, +but there was other work to do. The rabbits had to be snared and his +regular rounds made to the traps set for the wiry mink, lumbering raccoon, +and the wily fox. Each night, the animals brought in during the day had to +be skinned, and the pelts carefully stretched. Then when this had been +accomplished to his satisfaction he would turn his attention to his +studies.</p> + +<p>His father was cutting cord-wood for a neighbour, and was able to get home +at night. Then the two pored over the mysterious letters and words in the +little cabin, the elder doing his best to impart his scanty knowledge to +the younger. They were happy times for Dan. He had something to live for +now, and throughout the day, as he wandered from trap to trap, the words +he had studied the night before kept ringing in his ears.</p> + +<p>But, alas! such scenes were to be dispelled all too soon. They were too +good to last long. One evening Dan returned home to find an unusual +commotion about the place. Men and women were there who had never before +entered the building. And the doctor, whom he had often met on the road, +what was he doing there? What were they whispering about? and why did they +look at him in that way, when he entered the house? Where was his father? +Who was that lying on the bed so very still? Could it be dad? He had never +seen him like that before. Then the thought flashed upon him: something +was wrong! His father was hurt! and with a cry he rushed forward, and bent +over the prostrate form. But no word of welcome, no sign of recognition +did he receive. Nothing but that vacant stare met his ardent gaze.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly, he grasped the meaning of it all, as the sympathetic +watchers told the brief story. His father had met with a serious accident. +A large birch tree in falling had lodged against another, a sturdy maple. +While cutting at the latter the birch had suddenly turned over and +swooping to the ground with a resounding crash had buried Mr. Flitter +beneath the branches ere he had had time to escape. He had been carried +home bruised, broken, and unconscious. The doctor had been hurriedly +summoned, and had done all in his power for the injured man. But in vain, +for in a short time he had breathed his last.</p> + +<p>Dan uttered not a word when the tale had been told. He asked no questions, +neither did he make any outcry. He stood like one stricken dumb, dry-eyed +and motionless, gazing upon that quiet form lying upon the bed. Gently +they led him away, and tried to speak to him. He did not heed them. A +weight such as he had never known before pressed upon his heart. He wished +to be alone, somewhere in the woods, out there where no one could gaze +upon him. His father was dead! For him there was no consolation from the +words of the Man of Sorrows. The life beyond had no meaning for him. His +mother had taught him to say the little prayer, "Now I lay me down to +sleep," but that seemed so long ago, and he had not repeated it after her +death. He had seen the birds and animals lying dead, but had thought +nothing about it then. Now his father was just like them, would never look +at him again, would never speak to him any more.</p> + +<p>He watched in a dazed manner what took place on the two following days. +Neighbours came, spoke to him, stayed awhile and then departed. The day of +the funeral arrived. He stood with the rest at the graveside. It was cold, +and the wind laden with snow whistled about him. He heard the grey-headed, +white-bearded clergyman read the Burial Service. The words of hope had no +meaning for him. An awful feeling of desolation filled his heart as he +watched the earth thrown into the grave. A shiver passed through his body, +caused not by the coldness alone. Several came to speak to him. He did not +want to see them. He turned and fled down across the field over the fence +to the humble cabin in the valley. This he entered, now so quiet and +desolate. He reached the bed--his father's bed--and throwing himself upon +it gave vent to his grief. His pent-up feelings at last found an outlet +and tears coursed down his tanned cheeks, moistening the pillow beneath +his little curly head.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_03"></a>Chapter III</h1> + +<h2>Glendow Rectory</h2> + + + +<p>"Are you cold, lad?"</p> + +<p>"No," was the brief reply.</p> + +<p>Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure +at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their +feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she +was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead. +It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east +presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did +not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes +sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides.</p> + +<p>The parson gave a half-audible chuckle as he settled back in the seat and +gripped the reins more firmly.</p> + +<p>"What will Nellie say," he thought, "when she sees the lad? Won't she be +surprised! She's never tired of talking about that rescue on the river."</p> + +<p>Dan thoroughly enjoyed the drive as he nestled by the parson's side. It +was very strange to be speeding along in such a luxurious manner, with a +horse travelling like the wind, and a big jolly man holding the reins. He +said nothing, but kept his eye fixed upon Midnight, his admiration +steadily increasing. He would like to own a horse like that, and down in +his heart he determined to have one some day--his very own. + +"What do you think of Midnight, lad?" asked the parson, noticing Dan's +admiring gaze.</p> + +<p>"Great!" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Wish to have one like her, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet."</p> + +<p>"You will some day, boy; you will. But get a good one or none at all, and +here's a safe rule:</p> + +<blockquote> "Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,<br /> + Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostrils wide,<br /> + High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong.<br /> + Thin, mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.</blockquote> + +<p>"Now the man who said that, knew what he was talking about."</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" asked Dan. "Does he live here?"</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" and the parson's hearty laugh rang out over the snow. "'Does he +live here?' I'm afraid not. Very few in Glendow know old Will Shakespeare, +more's the pity."</p> + +<p>"I should like to meet him, though," remarked Dan. "He must know a lot +about horses."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, lad, he knows a lot about most things, and you shall know him +some day, Dan, when you get older. But here we are right at home. We've +made great time."</p> + +<p>After Midnight had been carefully stabled and fed, Parson John led his +little charge into the Rectory. Scarcely had they crossed the threshold +into a brightly-lighted room ere the sound of a sweet voice humming an old +familiar tune fell gently upon their ears. Then a heavy tapestry curtain +was drawn aside, and a slender girlish form stood before them. Beholding +the lad, she gave a start of surprise, while her face, of more than +ordinary beauty, flushed with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, Nellie," laughed her father, giving her an affectionate kiss, "I +have captured your young hero at last, and I'm glad you recognize him. +He's to live with us, to be your honourable bodyguard, your Fidus Achates, +in fact."</p> + +<p>What a picture this venerable man presented as he stood there. Wrapped in +a great-coat, with fur mittens in his hands; a long grey beard sweeping +his breast; hair abundant and white, crowning a face of singular strength +and refinement, he seemed the very embodiment of health and hearty cheer. +No ascetic this, but a man in whose veins flowed the fire of youth, and +whose eyes twinkled with quiet, honest laughter as they looked into his +daughter's puzzled face.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly understand," Nellie remarked, glancing first at her +father and then at Dan.</p> + +<p>"No, I know you don't, dear, but I'll tell you all about it later. It's +enough now to know that I found him, and we are to give him a home here. +So if you'll let us have something to eat, we'll be very glad, won't we, +laddie?"</p> + +<p>Dan stood as if in a dream during this conversation. His eyes remained +fixed upon Nellie's face. Could it be possible that this was the woman he +had rescued, and who had spoken so kindly to him? It was the same, there +could be no mistake, only now she seemed more beautiful than ever. He felt +her soft hand pressing his rough, brown one, and heard her hearty welcome. +Words would not come to his lips. He was like a dumb person. But his eyes +noted much, especially the dining-room, with the table spread, the white +cloth and wonderful dishes. He had never seen anything like them before.</p> + +<p>And good reason was there for Dan's wonder. Others too would have looked +with admiration upon that scene had they been present. Everything in the +room bespoke Nellie's gentle care, from the spotless table-linen to the +well-polished, old-fashioned sideboard, a relic of the stirring Loyalist +days. Several portraits of distinguished divines adorned the walls, while +here and there nature scenes, done in water-colours, by whose hand it was +easy to guess, were artistically arranged.</p> + +<p>Nellie's devotion to her father was beautiful to behold. Her eyes sparkled +with delight as he related several amusing incidents of his visit to a +sick parishioner in an outlying district. + +"And how did you find Mr. Stickles?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"'Simply joggin', parson, simply joggin,'" came the reply, at which the +fair hostess laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose Mrs. Stickles is as jolly as ever?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. She is just the same. Poor soul! she has her hands full with her +sick husband, and a houseful of little ones. Yet she keeps remarkably +bright and cheerful. She was much concerned about my welfare, and while +she sent Sammy to look after Midnight she bustled around to make me as +comfortable as possible."</p> + +<p>"'Poor dear man,' she said, 'ye ain't as young as ye used to be, an' I +often say to John that the work's tellin' on ye. Ye've got too large a +circus, parson, too large a circus.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear soul," laughed Nellie. "There isn't a more real person in Glendow +than Mrs. Stickles. She's a friend to everyone, and knows everybody's +business for miles around."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she does," replied her father. "It was she who told me about our +young friend here, and I started off post-haste to capture him. So we have +to thank Mrs. Stickles for it all."</p> + +<p>Supper ended, Parson John and Dan went into the study, while Nellie +cleared away the dishes. A bright fire burned in the large fire-place, +giving the room a most genial appearance. The parson brought down a long +church-warden pipe, filled and lighted it. Next he drew up a comfortable +chair and proceeded to read his mail which had arrived during his absence. +Dan, in the meantime, had taken up his position in a cosy-corner nearby. A +large picture-book had been given to him, and eagerly his eyes wandered +over the wonderful things he found therein. After a while he closed the +book and leaned back against the cushions. How comfortable it was. What +luxury! He had never experienced anything like it in his life. It seemed +like a dream. He watched Parson John for a time as he read his letters and +papers. Then he looked about the room, admiring the many things he there +beheld. Gradually his eyes closed. He forgot his surroundings, and was +soon fast asleep, far away in dreamland.</p> + +<p>When Nellie had finished with the dishes, she came into the study, and, +seeing Dan, she paused to look upon him. Then she crossed to where her +father was sitting, and touched him gently on the shoulder and pointed to +the sleeping lad. Together they watched him and in their hearts there +welled up a deep love for the orphan boy.</p> + +<p>"Poor little fellow," remarked Nellie, in a low voice, taking a seat by +her father's side. "I am so glad he is with us to-night. He seemed to be +tired out."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," her father replied, laying down the paper. "We are fortunate +in getting him. I wanted a boy for some time. I understand he has a fine +character."</p> + +<p>"And you said that Mrs. Stickles told you about him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And what she said was quite true. I found Dan living with the Tragen +family. Mr. Tragen has seven children of his own, and could not very well +keep another for any length of time. He told me that the day of the +funeral he went to the Flitter house, and found Dan all alone, lying on +his father's bed, weeping as if his heart would break. With difficulty he +had persuaded him to leave and go with him. That was over a week ago and +Dan has been with him ever since. Mrs. Tragen, worthy woman that she is, +took good care of him and treated him like one of her own. Truly the Lord +will reward her. By the way, she told me an interesting thing about the +boy."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" questioned Nellie.</p> + +<p>"It seems he has never been at school, and cannot read or write. He is +very anxious to learn, and his father, before his death, was giving him +some lessons. We must see that he has every chance to learn while with +us."</p> + +<p>"But, father, there's no school in the district this winter, a most +unusual thing."</p> + +<p>"Why not teach him at home, dearie?" and the parson looked into his +daughter's face. "Why not have a school here? We can give him a start +anyway, and he will not be too far behind the rest when next the public +school opens."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed Nellie, "and may I be the teacher? +I always wanted to do something in that line, and may we begin to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Any time you like, dearie, and may God bless you, child, for your +interest in the boy. You remind me more and more of your dear mother."</p> + +<p>"And why should I not take an interest in him, father? He saved my life, +and, though I can never repay him, I should like to feel that I am doing +something. You know I read to Nora whenever I can, but this need not +interfere with that. And, oh, father, Stephen was here this afternoon, and +he's in great trouble."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, dearie?" questioned the parson, as Nellie paused and a deep +flush suffused her face.</p> + +<p>"The Frenelle homestead is to be sold."</p> + +<p>"What! do I understand you aright? Peter Frenelle's farm, that fine +property which he left free of debt when he died?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's only too true. You know there has been a heavy mortgage on it +for several years, and as the interest has not been paid for some time the +mortgage has been foreclosed, and the place is to be sold."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me," and the parson leaned back in his chair and closed his +eyes, as he always did when in deep thought. "It's bad management, that's +what it is. Stephen has had a splendid start, and through carelessness he +has let everything go to ruin."</p> + +<p>"Father, don't blame Stephen too much. He's only young, and had a great +responsibility placed upon his shoulders after his father's death."</p> + +<p>"Blame him! Blame him! Why should I blame anyone?" and the parson placed +his hand to his forehead. "Stephen is as dear to me as my own son--and I +love him. But, oh, it is hard to see my old friend's farm go to others. I +have talked with Stephen time and time again. But he has not taken the +right grip of life. Poor Mrs. Frenelle, her heart must be broken. And +Nora, that dear invalid girl, how hard for her."</p> + +<p>Nellie made no reply to her father's words. She sat looking into the fire. +Tears were in her eyes and her heart was heavy. Everything had seemed so +bright but a short time before, and now this dark cloud had arisen. Oh, if +Stephen would only bestir himself. They had known each other from +childhood. He had always been her hero. As a child her day-dreams and +fancies were woven about him. And as years advanced their love for each +other had increased. It was the natural blending of two souls which had +gradually and silently grown together in the bright sunshine of happy +youth.</p> + +<p>A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. At once she +arose to ascertain its meaning, and shortly returned.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "Billy Fletcher is very sick, and wishes to see you."</p> + +<p>"Who brought word, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Hugh Peters. He called to see the old man as he was coming down the road, +and found him quite ill."</p> + +<p>The effect of this message was quite magical. No longer was Parson John +the quiet fireside reader, but the true sympathetic pastor. He laid aside +his pipe, and at once arose from his comfortable chair. An expression of +loving concern overspread Nellie's face as she assisted him on with his +storm coat, and procured his cap, mittens and overshoes. But no word of +remonstrance came from her lips, no urging him to put off his visit until +the morning. From a child she had been accustomed to these sudden calls to +the side of departing parishioners, to read the Word of life and at times +to administer the Holy Communion.</p> + +<p>Her father's step was slow as of one much wearied, though his voice was +cheery and strong as he bade his daughter good-bye, seized the small +lantern she had lighted for him, and stepped out into the cold night on +his mission of love.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_04"></a>Chapter IV</h1> + +<h2>The Warder of the Night</h2> + + + +<p>After her father's departure, Nellie sat before the fire engaged upon some +needlework. Occasionally her hands rested in her lap, while she gazed +thoughtfully into the bright blaze. The soft light from the shaded lamp +fell athwart her wealth of dark-brown hair and fair face. Her long lashes +drooped as she leaned back in an easy-chair, and let her mind wander to +the days when she and Stephen played together as happy children. What +bright dreams were theirs, and how many fairy palaces they erected in the +far unknown future.</p> + +<p>A movement in the cosy-corner roused her from her reverie. She glanced +quickly in that direction and saw Dan sitting bolt upright, gazing +intently upon her. Nellie smiled as she saw his look of wonder mingled +with embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Have you had a nice sleep?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Guess so," came the slow reply. "I dreamed that you and my father were +right by my side, but when I woke he was gone and only you are with me."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will like it here," Nellie remarked, hardly knowing what to +say. "We want to make you happy, and love you just like our own little +boy."</p> + +<p>"I'm almost a man now," and Dan straightened up his shoulders and proudly +threw back his head. "I can hunt and work. See how strong I am," and he +placed his right hand upon the muscle of his doubled-up left arm.</p> + +<p>"Some day you will be as big as my father, won't you?" replied Nellie, +much amused at the sturdy lad.</p> + +<p>"Was that your father who brought me here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Westmore. But most people call him 'Parson John.' You'll call him +that, too, won't you? He likes it better."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you want me to, I will. But, say, what's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mine's just Nellie, Nellie Westmore. Not very pretty, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is. Do you know that was my mother's name--Nellie, I mean, not +the other one."</p> + +<p>"And do you remember your mother, Dan?"</p> + +<p>"Only a little. She was good and pretty, just like you."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about her, will you? I should like to hear."</p> + +<p>And there in the quietness of that room Dan's tongue was unloosed, and in +his own simple way he told about his mother, her death, and how he and his +father had lived together in the little log shanty. Half an hour passed in +this quiet talk, and when at length Dan ceased Nellie glanced at the +clock.</p> + +<p>"Why, I didn't think it was so late! It is time you were in bed. You must +be tired. Come, I will show you where you are to sleep to-night, and +to-morrow we will fix up a room for your very own."</p> + +<p>Going to the kitchen Nellie lighted a small lamp, and with this in her +hand she and Dan went up the small winding stairway.</p> + +<p>"This is the place," and she opened a door leading to a room at the north +of the house. "The pipe from the hall stove comes up there, so it's always +quite warm. I do hope you will sleep well."</p> + +<p>She went to the window to draw down the blind and as she did so a light +fell upon her eyes which gave her a distinct start. It was not from the +moon, for the night was dark, but from a burning building, a short +distance up the road. The flames were leaping and curling through the +roof, sending up blazing cinders in every direction.</p> + +<p>Nellie's heart almost stopped beating as she gazed upon the scene. It was +Billy Fletcher's house! and what of her father? Was he amidst those +flames, or had he escaped?</p> + +<p>"Dan, Dan!" she cried, turning to the lad, "Come, quick! I'm afraid that +something terrible has happened! Get on your coat and cap as quickly as +possible and let's make haste!"</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to throw on their wraps, and to hurry forth into +the night.</p> + +<p>To Nellie the distance seemed never-ending. Would they ever reach the +house? How the road had lengthened! and her breath came hard and fast as +she staggered forward, trying to keep pace with the more hardy lad. The +light of the fire illumined the road for some distance around, and guided +their steps. Drawing near they could discover no one about the place. What +did it all mean? Here Nellie paused and with wildly beating heart looked +at the seething mass before her, and listened to the roar of the flames as +they sent up their wild flamboyant tongues into the air. Had her father +been entrapped in that terrible furnace? She glanced towards a barn on her +right and as she did so her eyes fell upon a sight never to be forgotten. +Someone was there, kneeling in the snow with bent head gazing intently +upon some object before him. It was her father! and with a cry of joy +Nellie rushed forward. She found he was kneeling by Billy Fletcher's side, +supporting his head, and carefully wrapping around him his own great-coat. +He looked up and an expression of relief came into his face as he saw his +daughter standing there.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you have come," he exclaimed. "Poor Billy's in a bad way. We +need help. He must be taken to some house. I wish you would hurry up the +road for assistance. Dan will go with you. Get his nephew Tom as quickly +as possible."</p> + +<p>Waiting to hear no more, Nellie, fatigued though she was, started at once +for assistance, Dan following close behind. They had gone only a short +distance, however, when they met Tom himself running along the road.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see?" Nellie replied. "The house is burning down."</p> + +<p>"And Uncle Billy; is he safe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he's safe, but almost dead."</p> + +<p>"And the box, what about it?"</p> + +<p>"What box?"</p> + +<p>"The money box; the iron one, where he keeps his papers and gold."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the box," replied Nellie, while a feeling of great +repugnance welled up within her at the heartlessness of the man. He cared +little for his uncle, the feeble old body, but only for what he possessed.</p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the place where the sick man was lying.</p> + +<p>"Is he living?" shouted his nephew.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the parson, "though I doubt if he can last long. We must +get him away to your house as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"But the box, Parson; did you save it?" questioned Tom.</p> + +<p>"No, I never thought about it, and, besides, I did not know where it was."</p> + +<p>At this Billy opened his faded eyes, and fixed them upon his nephew's +face. He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and his words were +unintelligible.</p> + +<p>"Where's the box?" shouted Tom.</p> + +<p>Again the old man endeavoured to say something. Failing in this he made an +effort to rise. The struggle was too much for him, and with a cry he sank +back upon the snow, dead.</p> + +<p>By this time several neighbours had arrived, and stood near with a look of +awe upon their rugged faces. Nellie drew her father aside, knowing full +well that his care was needed no longer.</p> + +<p>"Come," she said, "we had better go home, These men will do the rest. You +have done your part."</p> + +<p>He followed her along the little path leading to the main road. Reaching +this she took him by the arm and supported his steps, which were now +over-feeble. Slowly and feelingly, he told the story of the night. He had +found the old man in a bad condition, and cold from the lack of a good +fire. Filling the stove with a liberal supply of wood, and making Billy as +comfortable as the circumstances would permit, he had sat down to watch +his charge. Ere long the sick man grew much worse. Then the chimney had +caught fire. The bricks must have been loose somewhere, which allowed the +flames to pour through into the dry woodwork overhead, which was soon +converted into a blazing mass. Seeing that nothing could be done to save +the building Mr. Westmore was forced to carry Billy, sick though he was, +out of the house. He tried to reach the barn, but his strength failed, so +he was forced to lay his burden upon the snow, and wrap his great-coat +around the helpless man.</p> + +<p>"Poor Billy! poor Billy!" said the parson in conclusion. "He was careless +about higher things. I hope the good Lord will not judge him too harshly."</p> + +<p>"But he was not always like that, father," Nellie remarked.</p> + +<p>"No, no, thank God. He had a happy home when I first came to this parish, +long before you were born. I have often told you about the sweet, +God-fearing wife he had then. But after she was laid to rest a great +change took place in Billy's life. He became very rebellious and never +darkened the church door. He acquired a great passion for money, and grew +to be most miserly. As the years passed his harshness increased. He waxed +sullen and disagreeable. His neighbours shunned him and he looked upon +them all with a suspicious eye. His money he never placed in a bank, but +kept it in his house in gold coin, in a strong, iron box, so I have been +told, and would count it over and over again with feverish delight."</p> + +<p>"But, father," remonstrated Nellie, "there must have been something good +in poor old Billy. You know how fond he was of Tony Stickles."</p> + +<p>"True, very true, dear. I have often wondered about the affection between +the two. No one else could live with the old man, except Tony, and he +served him like a faithful dog. It is generally believed that Billy +confided many things to Tony. He is a peculiar lad, and people have tried +in vain to find out what he knew. He will certainly feel badly when he +comes out of the woods, where he is now working, and hears about Billy's +death. But here we are at home. Oh dear, the journey has greatly tired +me," and the parson panted heavily as he entered the house.</p> + +<p>During the homeward walk Dan trudged along close by Nellie's side, busy +with his own thoughts. He longed for something to happen that he might +show her what a man he was. If a robber or a wolf, or some frightful +monster, would spring out from the roadside, he would meet it +single-handed, kill or drive it away. Then to behold the look of +gratitude and admiration upon the woman's face as she looked at him, what +bliss that would be! Little did the father and daughter realize, as they +slowly walked and conversed, what thoughts and feelings were thrilling +the little lad by their side, feelings which in all ages have electrified +clods of humanity into heroes, and illuminated life's dull commonplaces +with the golden romance of chivalry.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_05"></a>Chapter V</h1> + +<h2>The Breath of Slander</h2> + + + +<p>"When a man dies he kicks the dust." Thus pithily wrote Henry Thoreau, the +quaint philosopher, in his little shack by the beautiful Walden pool. The +truth of this saying was certainly verified in old Billy Fletcher's death, +and the people of Glendow were destined to see the dust stirred by his +departure, rise in a dense cloud and centre around the venerable parson of +Glendow.</p> + +<p>The day after the fire was clear and fine. Not a breath of wind stirred +the crisp air, and the sun-kissed snow lying smooth and white over all the +land sparkled like millions of diamonds.</p> + +<p>Near the window in her little cottage, not far from the Rectory, sat Mrs. +Larkins, busily knitting. She was a woman of superior qualities and had +seen better days. Her toil-worn hands and care-marked face could not +disguise the gentle, refined spirit within, which expressed itself in her +every word and action. Two little graves in the Churchyard, lying side by +side, and marked by a small cross of white marble, told how the silent +messenger had entered that home. Often the husband and wife were seen +standing by those little mounds, while tears coursed down their rugged, +honest cheeks.</p> + +<p>"No father could have been kinder than Parson John," she had frequently +remarked when speaking about their loss, "and no sister more sympathetic +than dear Nellie. They loved our little ones as if they were their very +own. On that bright summer day when we laid our lambs to rest the parson's +voice faltered as he read the Burial Service, and tears glistened in his +eyes."</p> + +<p>Since then whatever happened of joy or sorrow at the Rectory was of the +deepest interest to the lonely two over the way. So on this bright +afternoon as Mrs. Larkins sat by the window her thoughts were busy with +the events of the past night.</p> + +<p>A knock upon the door broke her reverie. Opening it, what was her surprise +to find there a woman, with an old-fashioned shawl about her shoulders, +and a bright, jolly face peering forth from a capacious grey hood.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stickles!" she exclaimed. "Is it really you? Why, I haven't seen you +for such a long time! Come in at once, and lay off your wraps, while I +make you a cup of tea, for you must be chilled through and through."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am," Mrs. Stickles replied, bustling into the room, and untying +her hood. "Sammy hed to bring the old mare to the blacksmith shop to git +shod, an' John, my man, sez to me, 'Mother,' sez he, 'ye jist put on yer +duds, an' go along, too. It'll do ye a world o' good.' I hated to leave +John, poor soul, he's so poorly. But I couldn't resist the temptation, an' +so I come. My, that's good tea!" she ejaculated, leaning back in a big, +cosy chair. "Ain't that tumble about old Billy Fletcher, an' him sich a +man!"</p> + +<p>"You've heard about his death, then?" Mrs. Larkins replied.</p> + +<p>"Should think I hed. We stopped fer a minute at the store. I wanted to git +some calicer fer the girls, an' while I was thar I heerd Tom Flinders an' +Pete Robie talkin' about it. Why, it was awful! An' to think the dear old +parson was thar all alone! When Pete told me that I jist held up me hands +in horror. 'Him thar with that dyin' man!' sez I. 'Jist think of it!'</p> + +<p>"'I guess he didn't mind it,' sez Si Farrington, who was awaitin' upon me. +'He likes jobs of that nater.' I don't know what in the world he meant. I +s'pose ye've heerd all about it, Mrs. Larkins?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the somewhat slow reply. "I've heard too much."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so now!" and Mrs. Stickles laid down her cup, and brought +forth the knitting which she had with her. "Anything serious?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can judge for yourself. John helped to carry Billy to his +nephew's house, and then assisted the others in putting out the fire. But +search as they might they could not find the box."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so! Well, I declare."</p> + +<p>"No, they searched every portion of the rubbish, ashes and all, but could +find no trace of it. That's what's troubling me. I do hope they will find +it for the parson's sake."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Ye surprise me," and Mrs. Stickles laid down her knitting. "Wot +the parson has to do with that box is more'n I kin understand."</p> + +<p>"No, perhaps you don't. But you see after the men had made a thorough +search and could not find the box, Tom Fletcher became much excited. He +swore like a trooper, declared that there had been foul play, and hinted +that the parson had something to do with it. You know that the Fletchers +have been waiting a long time for Billy to die in order to get his gold, +property and--"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know Tom Fletcher," broke in Mrs. Stickles. "Don't I know +'im, an' wot a mean sneak he is. He's suspicious of everybody, an' is +always lookin' fer trouble. An' as to meanness, why he hasn't a heart as +big as the smallest chicken. Ye could take a thousand hearts sich as his'n +an' stick 'em all to the wall with one tiny pin, an' then they wouldn't be +half way up to the head. Mean! Why didn't he once put a twenty-five cent +piece inter the kerlection plate by mistake, an' come back the next day to +git it, an' gave a cent in its place. If that ain't mean I'd like to know +whar ye'd find it," and Mrs. Stickles sniffed contemptuously as her +needles whirled and rattled between her nimble fingers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Larkins replied, "he carries his meanness into everything. If +he even imagines that it was the parson's fault that the house burned +down, and the will was destroyed, his anger will burn like fire. He's very +revengeful, too, and has an old grudge to pay back. The parson, you know, +was the means of making him close up his liquor business some years ago, +and he has been waiting ever since for a chance to hit back. I tell you +this, Mrs. Stickles, that a man who tries to do his duty is bound to stir +up opposition, and sometimes I wonder why such a good man should have to +bear with vindictive enemies. I suppose it's for some purpose."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is, Mrs. Larkins. Indeed it is," and Mrs. Stickles' needles +clicked faster than ever. "It was only last night I was talkin' to my man +John about this very thing. 'John,' sez I, 'd'ye remember them two apple +trees in the orchard down by the fence?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' ye recollect,' sez I, 'how one was loaded down with apples, while +t'other had nuthin' but leaves?'</p> + +<p>"I remember," sez he.</p> + +<p>"'Well, then,' sez I, 'One was pelted with sticks an' stones all summer, +an' even hed some of its branches broken, while t'other was not teched. +Why was that?</p> + +<p>"'Cause it hed plenty of good fruit on it,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'Jist so,' sez I. 'Cause it hed good fruit. An' that's why so often the +Lord's good people er pelted with vile words cause they're loaded down +with good deeds. If they never did nuthin' the devil 'ud leave 'em alone, +but jist 'cause they bear good fruit is the reason they're pelted.' John +reckoned I was right, an' he's got a purty level head, if I do say it."</p> + +<p>"I only hope most of the people in the parish will stand by the parson," +replied Mrs. Larkins. "I know some will, but there are others who are +easily led, and Tom Fletcher's got a sharp tongue."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't they stan' by 'im, Mrs. Larkins? Wot hev they agin 'im? Tell +me that."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins did not answer for a while, but sat gazing out of the window +as if she did not hear the remark.</p> + +<p>"I'm thinking of the parson's son, Philip," Mrs. Larkins at length +replied. "You know about him, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Sartin' I do. I've knowed Phillie sense he was a baby, an' held 'im in me +arms, too. He was a sweet lamb, that's wot he was. I understan' he's a +minin' ingineer out in British Columbia, an' doin' fine from the last +account I heerd."</p> + +<p>"That was some time ago, Mrs. Stickles, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"I believe it was last summer."</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems that Philip's in trouble."</p> + +<p>"Lan' sake, ye don't tell me!" and Mrs. Stickles dropped her knitting and +held up her hands in horror. "I was afeered of it, Mrs. Larkins. It's no +place fer man or beast out thar. Hev the Injins hurt 'im, or the bears +clawed 'im? I understan' they're thick as flies in summer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not that," replied Mrs. Larkins. "You see over a year ago Philip +invested in some mining property out there, and the prospects looked so +bright that he induced his father to join him in the enterprise. Though +the parson's salary has always been small, with strict economy he had laid +something by each year for his old age. The whole of this he gave to +Philip to be invested. For a time things looked very bright and it seemed +as if the mines would produce handsome profits. Unfortunately several +claimants for the property suddenly turned up, with the result that the +whole affair is now in litigation. The case is to be decided in a few +months, and should it go against Philip he and his father will be ruined. +Philip manages the matter, and the parson advances what money he can +scrape together. Just lately the whole affair has leaked out, and some +people, knowing how the parson needs money, may not be slow to impute to +him things of which he is entirely ignorant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles was about to speak, when a jingle of bells sounded outside. +"Well, I declare!" she exclaimed, "Sammy's back already!" With that, she +rose to her feet, and the conversation ended.</p> + +<p>The church was crowded the day old Billy was buried, for a funeral in +Glendow was always an important event. Parson John was clad in his simple +robes of office and read the Burial Service in a resonant, well-modulated +voice. Beholding such nobleness, gentleness and dignity of his face and +bearing, only the most suspicious could associate him with any underhanded +dealing. What connection had such a man with the base things of life? +Mounting the pulpit, he gave a short, impressive address. There was no +sentiment, or flowery language. He glossed nothing over, but in a few +words sketched Billy Fletcher's life, and pointed him out as a warning to +those who become careless and indifferent to higher things.</p> + +<p>"The parson talked mighty plain to-day," said one man in a low voice to +another, as they wended their way to the graveyard. "He didn't put poor +Billy in Heaven, that's certain, and perhaps he's right. I guess he hit +the Fletchers pretty hard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," the other replied. "The parson got his say from the pulpit, hut +the Fletchers will have theirs later."</p> + +<p>"Why, what have they to say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll see."</p> + +<p>"About that box?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man. Why, they haven't a leg to stand on in that matter."</p> + +<p>"But they'll make legs. Surely you know Tom Fletcher by this time. He'll +stop at nothing when once he gets started, and though he may not be able +to do anything definitely, he'll do a lot of talking, and talk tells in +Glendow, mark my word."</p> + +<p>And this proved only too true. Talk did begin to tell both in the homes +and at the stores. One man, who had met the parson on a hurried trip to +the city, declared that he was driving like mad, and hardly spoke in +passing. Another related that when Tom Fletcher asked Billy about the box, +the dying man pointed to the parson, and tried to speak. Though some of +the more sensible scoffed at such stories as ridiculous, it made little +difference, for they passed from mouth to mouth, increasing in interest +and importance according to the imagination of the narrator.</p> + +<p>Although this slander with malignant breath was spreading through the +parish, it did not for a time reach the Rectory. All unconscious of +impending trouble, father and daughter lived their quiet life happy in +each other's company.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_06"></a>Chapter VI</h1> + +<h2>The Auction</h2> + + + +<p>The day of the auction of the Frenelle homestead dawned mild and clear.</p> + +<p>"Don't give Dan too many lessons," laughed Parson John, as he kissed his +daughter good-bye and tucked in the robes about his feet.</p> + +<p>"No fear, father," was the laughing reply. "Perhaps he will turn the +tables upon me. He knows so much about the woods, wild animals and birds +that I like to learn from him."</p> + +<p>Midnight strode along the road, glad of the run in the fresh air. The +sleigh bells sent forth their sweet music, echoing and re-echoing from the +neighbouring hills and forest. Everything spoke of peace, and in Parson +John's heart dwelt a deeper peace, as he guided Midnight through the +gateway and reined her up before the Frenelle door.</p> + +<p>Though he was somewhat early, others were earlier still, and a group of +men, hardy sons of toil, were standing near the house engaged in earnest +conversation. They had come a long distance, for an auction such as this +was a most unusual occurrence in Glendow. The Frenelle homestead had +belonged to the family from the early Loyalist days, descending from +father to son for several generations. Each had contributed something to +the improvement of the land, but it remained for Peter Frenelle, Stephen's +father, to bring it under an excellent state of cultivation. A +clear-headed, hard-working man, he had brought his scientific knowledge, +acquired by careful study, to bear upon the soil, until his broad, rich +acres, free from stone, became the envy and admiration of the parish.</p> + +<p>One quiet evening he was strolling around the farm with Parson John, his +firm and faithful counsellor from childhood. Looking across the fields of +waving grain, and down upon the long straight rows of corn, standing +golden in the setting sun, he paused in his walk, and remained for some +time in deep thought. "John," he at length remarked, placing his hand +affectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "the Lord has been very good +to me all of these years. He has blessed me in house and field; He has +given me health and strength, and now in my latter days peace and light at +eventide."</p> + +<p>His companion was not surprised at these words, for often before had Mr. +Frenelle talked in this manner. But early the next morning when he was +summoned to his friend's bedside, to receive his final message, and to +hold the hand outstretched to him till it was still and cold, the solemn +utterance of the previous evening came forcibly to his mind.</p> + +<p>For several years after her husband's sudden death, Mrs. Frenelle managed +the farm and exhibited remarkable skill in directing the various hired +labourers.</p> + +<p>But as Stephen, her only son, advanced to manhood she relinquished the +responsibility and devoted her time almost entirely to her household +affairs. This change was so gradual as to be almost imperceptible. Stephen +disliked the drudgery of farm life and left the work to the hired men. So +long as he could draw upon his father's careful savings to pay the wages +and supply his own needs, he did not worry. The neighbours shook their +heads and prophesied trouble as they saw the land producing less each +year, and its acres, formerly rich with grain, covered with bushes. Parson +John reasoned and remonstrated, though all in vain. Stephen always +promised to do better, but in the end continued the same as before. At +last the awakening came, sudden and terrible. The bank account had been +overdrawn to a considerable extent, and payment was demanded. The only +thing to do was to mortgage the farm, and with a heavy heart Mrs. Frenelle +signed the pledge of death to the dear homestead. For a time Stephen tried +to settle down to steady work, but the old habit of carelessness was too +strong upon him, and ere long he drifted back to his former ways. The +interest on the mortgage remained unpaid. Foreclosure was the inevitable +result, and the farm was accordingly advertised for sale.</p> + +<p>At last the day of doom had arrived.</p> + +<p>Parson John found Mrs. Frenelle in the cosy sitting-room with her invalid +daughter, Nora. The latter was endeavouring to comfort her mother. The +girl's face, although worn with care and suffering, was sweet to look +upon. She was not what one would call pretty, but it was impossible to be +long in her presence without feeling the influence of her strong buoyant +disposition. The angel of pain had purged away much of the dross of her +nature, leaving the pure gold undimmed. She inherited, too, much of her +father's strength of character which seemed to be lacking in her brother.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do?" sobbed poor Mrs. Frenelle, as the parson entered the +room. "We will be driven from our dear old home, where we have spent so +many happy years! We will be penniless!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, mother dear," remonstrated her daughter. "Don't get so discouraged. +The place may bring more than will cover the mortgage. We will have that +to start with again, and in a few years we may be able to pay everything +off. Stephen may settle down to hard, steady work and all will be well."</p> + +<p>"Nora is right," replied the parson. "The purchaser, whoever he is, will +no doubt let you remain here, and give you a fair chance to redeem the +place. Our Glendow people, you know, have big hearts."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I could see it in that light," and Mrs. Frenelle glanced at +the clergyman through her tears. "It is Mr. Farrington I fear. His mind is +set upon having this place. He has looked upon it with greedy eyes for a +number of years. He has only a little land in connection with his store, +and his wife is always complaining that they have not enough room. She has +said on several occasions that they would own this farm some day. Then, +you see, Farrington is a candidate for the next Councillor election. He +has large ambitions, and hopes eventually to run for the Local House. He +thinks a place such as this with its fine, old-fashioned house will give +him a certain standing which he now lacks. He wants to pose as a country +gentleman, and his wife wishes to have the house in which to entertain her +distinguished guests, who, as she imagines, will visit them. Oh, to think +of Mrs. Farrington living here!" and the poor woman buried her face in her +hands.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps someone else will outbid him," suggested Mr. Westmore. "I +would not lose heart yet."</p> + +<p>"There is no one in Glendow able to bid successfully against Mr. +Farrington," Nora replied. "We have learned, however, that Mr. Turpin, a +real estate man, arrived from the city last night. He wishes to buy the +place merely as a speculation, hoping to turn it over to some rich people +who wish to come to Canada to settle. But there is the bell!" and she +half-started from her invalid's chair, but sank back with a little cry at +the pain caused by the sudden movement.</p> + +<p>As the day was mild the auction took place in the open where the +auctioneer, surrounded by some two dozen men, was mounted on a large box. +At first the bidding was general and brisk. Gradually, however, it +dwindled down to three or four, and finally to Farrington and Turpin, the +real estate man. The former was standing a little apart from the rest, +with his eyes intent upon the auctioneer, and unable to repress the +eagerness which shone in his face. As the bidding advanced and drew near +the three thousand dollar mark, Turpin showed signs of weakening, while +his bids came slower and slower. Farrington, noticing this, could not +control his pleasure, and when he at length offered the round sum of three +thousand dollars Turpin gave up the struggle and, moving back a little, +perched himself upon a barrel, and seemed to take no interest in the +affair.</p> + +<p>A triumphant light gleamed in Farrington's eyes as he observed his +vanquished opponent. He glanced towards the house, and, seeing Mrs. +Frenelle standing in the doorway, his lips parted in a cruel smile. It was +that smile more than anything else which revealed the real nature of the +man.</p> + +<p>The breathless silence which for a time ensued at this crisis was broken +by the harsh cry of the auctioneer:</p> + +<p>"Three thousand dollars!" he called. "Going at three thousand dollars! Any +advance on three thousand dollars. Going at three thousand dollars. Once--twice--third--and--"</p> + +<p>"Three thousand one hundred," came suddenly from Parson John.</p> + +<p>An earthquake shock could hardly have startled the men more than this bid +from such an unexpected quarter.</p> + +<p>Farrington's face reddened, and he moved a step nearer to be sure that he +had not been mistaken.</p> + +<p>"Did I hear aright?" he gasped. "Did the parson add one hundred to my +bid?"</p> + +<p>"Three thousand one hundred dollars from Parson Westmore," shouted the +auctioneer. "Any advance on three thousand one hundred dollars?"</p> + +<p>"Another hundred, then, damn it," and Farrington thrust his hands deeper +into his pockets, while his eyes gleamed with an angry light.</p> + +<p>"Three thousand five hundred," came the quiet response.</p> + +<p>Silence followed this last bid, which plainly proved that Farrington, too, +was weakening. He looked around as if uncertain what to do, and his eyes +rested upon Mrs. Frenelle. In her eagerness she had moved from the door, +and was standing near the group of men with her eyes fixed full upon the +clergyman. The expression upon her face was that of a drowning person, +who, when all hope has been abandoned, sees a rescuer suddenly at hand. It +was this look more than the half-suppressed laugh that passed among the +men, which caused him to fling another one hundred dollars at the +auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand," again came strong and clear from Parson John without the +slightest hesitation.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer waited for Farrington to increase his bid. The men almost +held their breath in the excitement of the moment, and Mrs. Frenelle moved +a step nearer with her hands firmly clasped before her.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand dollars," the auctioneer spoke slowly and impressively now. +"Any--advance--on four thousand dollars? Going at four thousand dollars--Once--twice--third--and----last call----, and sold to Parson Westmore for +four thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>As these words fell from the speaker's lips a deep sigh broke the tense +feeling of the little company. They had been stirred more than was their +wont by the scene that they had just witnessed. These men knew but little +of the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms, the strife of modern nations, +the deeds of statesmen, and the affairs of the financial world. And yet in +the sale of this farm in an obscure country place the secret springs of +life, even though on a small scale, were laid bare. The pathos of a happy +home on the verge of destruction, with a loving mother and an invalid +child in danger of being cast out upon the cold world, and to see this +tragedy so narrowly averted through one staunch champion successfully +beating back pride and greed as represented in the person of Silas +Farrington--truly it was a miniature of the world's history, which may be +found in every town, village or home.</p> + +<p>"I trust you understand the conditions of the sale, sir," and the +auctioneer looked curiously at the clergyman, who was standing somewhat by +himself. "One-third of the amount down, and the balance in half-yearly +payments. I only mention this in case you may not know it."</p> + +<p>"I understand perfectly well," was the reply. "The <i>whole</i> amount +shall be paid at once, and the matter settled without delay."</p> + +<p>"Guess the ministry must be a payin' job," sneered Farrington, "when a +poor country parson kin fork out four thousand dollars at one slap. I see +now why ye're allus dunnin' us fer money. Mebbe ye've got a hot sermon all +ready on the subject fer us next Sunday."</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore looked intently at the man for an instant, and his lips +parted as if to reply. Instead, however, he turned without a word and +moved slowly towards the house.</p> + +<p>He reached Nora's side, and took her outstretched hand in his. Tears of +joy were in her eyes as she lifted them to her Rector's face, and +endeavoured to find adequate words in which to express her gratitude.</p> + +<p>"I know we are safe now!" she said. "But we never thought of you buying +the place! I cannot understand it at all. Four thousand dollars! What a +lot of money!"</p> + +<p>"No, my child, you cannot understand it now, but you will some day," and +as Mr. Westmore turned his face towards the window a tear might have been +detected stealing slowly down his furrowed cheek.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_07"></a>Chapter VII</h1> + +<h2>The Farringtons</h2> + + + +<p>Silas Farrington flung himself out of his sleigh and handed the reins to a +young man who had come forth from the store.</p> + +<p>"What are ye so slow about?" he snarled. "Here I've been callin' fer the +last five minutes. Why don't ye hustle when I call?"</p> + +<p>"I was running molasses," came the surly reply, "and how could I leave--"</p> + +<p>"There now, no back talk; I never allow it. Put up the horse, an' don't +spend all day about it, either."</p> + +<p>With these words Farrington made his way to the house, leaving the young +man inwardly cursing his unjust master.</p> + +<p>"Ye're late, Si," a voice exclaimed, as he opened the door and entered. +"We've been waitin' fer ye a full hour or more."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it," Farrington replied. "I was delayed."</p> + +<p>"An' how much did ye pay fer the farm, Si?"</p> + +<p>"Farm be--be--hanged! I'm sick of it."</p> + +<p>"But didn't ye git it, Si?" his wife persisted.</p> + +<p>"Git it? No!"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"I said no!"</p> + +<p>"But who did, then?"</p> + +<p>"The parson." + +"What! Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Who else would he fool enough to interfere with me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Farrington. "Do tell us about it, Si?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a word more about it," snapped her husband, "till we git down to +dinner. I'm most starved. Is it ready?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, yes. I'd clean fergot about it," and Mrs. Farrington bustled off +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Everything in the dining-room betokened care and industry, from the +nicely-papered walls, adorned with pictures, to the large sideboard, with +its display of old china and glassware. The table-linen was spotlessly +clean, and the food served up was well cooked. But, notwithstanding this, +something seemed wrong. An indefinable atmosphere pervaded the place which +spoiled the effect of it all. It was not the corrupted English falling +from the lips of these people which grated so harshly upon the senses. It +was the spirit of pretence which overshadowed everything--the effort to be +what they were not. Had old Titbottom been there with his magic +spectacles, he would have beheld in Farrington little more than a roll of +bills; in his wife the very essence of pretence and ambition; while the +daughter Eudora and their son Dick would be labelled "exact samples" of +the parents.</p> + +<p>Farrington told of the auction in no measured terms. He was annoyed at the +unexpected outcome and did not try to conceal his anger. The inserted +exclamations of the family told their own tale. They were much +disappointed, especially Mrs. Farrington.</p> + +<p>"Only think!" she cried, when her husband had ended, "that the parson +above all men should interfere in this matter! Him that's allus talkin' +about lovin' our neighbours as ourselves, standin' a-tween us an' our +natral rights. I hev often told Eudora, heven't I, dear? that we need a +better place than this. Now, that Frenelle homestead is jist what we want, +an' it seemed as if the Lord intended we should hev it, too. It is so +included from all pryin' eyes, an' away from them country people who are +so uncongenial. Their manners are so rough an' they know so little about +proper equity. The parson knows very well that we are city bred, an' that +our descendants hev allus had good blood in their veins, an' that we try +to follow their Example by givin' a tone to the community ever sense we +came from the city. He knows what we are a-tryin' to do, an' yit he'll +serve us in this mean fashion."</p> + +<p>"I wonder where he got the spondulicks," broke in her son Richard.</p> + +<p>"Richard, Richard! you must not use sech a word as that," and Mrs. +Farrington cast a reproving glance at her son. "Ye must hev heerd it from +Tom Jones; ye know ye never hear it at home, fer we are allus very +pertickeler about our language."</p> + +<p>"Well, money, then, ma. I don't care what ye call it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I guess that'll not be hard to account fer," replied Farrington with +a knowing laugh. "Tom Fletcher may be able to throw some light upon the +subject. It seems to me that the parson has come to the end of his rope. +We've borne with 'im fer years, an' it's about time he was makin' a move. +He's too old fer the ministry. We need a young man, with fire an' vim. +Anyway, the rest may do as they please, but as fer me not another cent do +I pay as long as he is in charge."</p> + +<p>"Ye've allus paid well, Si," remarked his wife, "an' the parson is not one +bit grateful."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I reckon I hev," and Farrington gulped down, his tea. "I used to +contribute heavily; eight dollars a year, an' a bag of oats at Christmas. +Now I give only four sense I've enlarged my bizness an' can't afford so +much. Besides, the parson doesn't deal with me as much as he should. He +gits too many of his supplies in the city. If he expects me to paternise +'im he must deal with me. I've told 'im so very plainly on several +occasions."</p> + +<p>"Ye certainly did yer part, Si," Mrs. Farrington replied. "If all in the +parish 'ud do as well there'd be no trouble. It is disgraceful that these +country people do not pay more to support the Church. It throws sich a +burden upon us. Only think of Mrs. Jimmy Brown buyin' a new Bristles +carpet, when the old one was quite good enough. An' her last year's hat +could hev been made over as well as not. But, no, it would not do. She had +to hev another, which cost quite a penny, so I understand."</p> + +<p>"An' Vivien Nelson's fur-lined coat, ma," chimed in Eudora, "I know it +didn't cost one cent less than seventy-five dollars!"</p> + +<p>"These country people are so extravagant, ye know," returned her mother. +"They are allus tryin' to imitate their sufferiors. To think of Vivien +Nelson, a farmer's daughter, hevin' a fur-lined coat which cost almost as +much as Eudora's! It is really disgraceful! I'm sure her father could give +more to the Church than he does, an' yit he'll let us hear the brunt of +the burden."</p> + +<p>"Guess he'll hev to bear mor'n ever now," replied her husband as he rose +from the table. "I'm done with the whole bizness, an' I'm mighty glad I +heven't paid fer the last year, an' don't intend to now."</p> + +<p>As Farrington passed out of the dining-room into the store, his clerk, a +young man new to the business, was serving a middle-aged woman at the +counter.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sturgis," the former was saying, "but we are entirely out +of it just now. We can order it for you, though, and have it in a few +days."</p> + +<p>Farrington turned angrily upon his heel as these words fell upon his ears.</p> + +<p>"What does she want?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Number forty, white thread; but we're out of it."</p> + +<p>"You stupid blockhead, we're not out of it! We're never out! If you'd use +yer eyes half as much as yer tongue ye'd be all right."</p> + +<p>"But I can't find it. I've looked everywhere," and the clerk's eyes flashed +danger as he turned them upon his master.</p> + +<p>"Well, look again. Don't stand thar starin' like an ijut!"</p> + +<p>The young man did as he was commanded. He searched and rummaged, but all +in vain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come out of that, an' let me thar," and Farrington shoved his way +past the clerk, and fumbled excitedly in the box.</p> + +<p>"Ah-yes-no-fifty-sixty-Well, I declare! Not thar! Confound it! Why didn't +ye tell me we were out before? Why did ye wait till the last spool was +gone afore sayin' a word about it?"</p> + +<p>"I've only been here a week," replied the clerk, "and how could I know you +were out. No one has called for number forty thread since I've been here."</p> + +<p>Farrington was beaten, and was forced to swallow his anger as best he +could. It was most aggravating to be thus humiliated in the presence of +this woman. He strode across the room, and stood with his back to the +stove, wondering how he could get even with his clerk. He would discharge +him. "No, that wouldn't do. It was hard to get a man to stay with him, and +this was a good worker. Anyway, he must be taught his place, and not +answer back. He would let him know that he owned the store.</p> + +<p>"Give me my mail, please."</p> + +<p>Farrington started, and turning, beheld a little lad standing by his side.</p> + +<p>"Mail! whose mail?" he demanded, glad of an excuse to give vent to his +anger. "What's yer name? I don't know anything about <i>my</i> mail."</p> + +<p>"I want Parson John's mail," persisted the boy. Don't you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Know 'im! Well, I guess! I know 'im too d--n well. But who are you, and +what do ye want with the parson's mail?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I live with him now. I'm Dan, old Jim's boy. Didn't you know I was +there?"</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, that's a good one! To think that I should know every brat who +comes to the place."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a brat! I'm almost a man," and Dan straightened himself up. "Give +me my mail, please; Parson John's waiting for it."</p> + +<p>"Let 'im wait. I'm not supposed to give out mail to all the riff-raff who +comes fer it. Why doesn't he come 'imself?"</p> + +<p>"He's busy."</p> + +<p>"Busy! busy! Yes, I s'pose he is busy, plannin' mischief; wonderin' what +to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. How much did he git? I s'pose he gave +you some to hold yer tongue."</p> + +<p>Farrington had no intention of uttering these last words, but his heart +was so full of anger that he hardly knew what he was saying.</p> + +<p>Dan's eyes flashed, and his little hands suddenly doubled at his side. He +did not comprehend the meaning of these words, but he felt that his +friend, the white-headed old man, was being insulted. With him to think +was to act, and many a boy larger than himself had felt the lightning +blows of those little tense knuckles.</p> + +<p>"What do ye mean?" he demanded, looking up into Farrington's face.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Well, if ye want to know, I mean that Parson John is a +rogue, an' that you are nuthin' but a young sucker, an impudent outcast, +spongin' fer yer livin' upon others."</p> + +<p>Hardly had the words left Farrington's lips, when, with a cry as of a wild +animal, Dan leaped full upon him, caught him by the hair with one hand, +and with the other rained blow after blow upon his face.</p> + +<p>With a howl of mingled pain and rage, Farrington endeavoured to free +himself from this human wild-cat. He struggled and fought, and at length +succeeded in tearing away that writhing, battering form. With one hand he +held him at arm's length and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. Dan +struggled, squirmed and bit, but all in vain; he was held as in a vice. +Not satisfied with shaking the lad, Farrington reached over and, seizing a +broken barrel stave from the wood-box, brought it down over the lad's +shoulder and back with a resounding thud. A cry of pain, the first that he +had uttered, fell from Dan's lips, and with a mighty effort he tried to +escape. The stick was raised again. It was about to fall, when suddenly it +flew into the air, the grip of the boy relaxed, and Farrington staggered +back from a furious blow dealt him by the young clerk. Farrington tried to +recover, but each time he was hurled to the floor by the stalwart athlete +standing before him, his eyes blazing with anger.</p> + +<p>"Get up, you coward!" he cried, when at length Farrington remained +sprawling upon the floor. "Get up if you can, and dare!"</p> + +<p>"Curse you!" snarled the defeated man. "Ye'll pay fer this!"</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that later," calmly replied the clerk. "There's to be no +more bullying while I'm here, and I won't be here long, for I'm done with +you and your outfit."</p> + +<p>"Go, go at once, d--n you, or I'll kick ye out!" shouted Farrington.</p> + +<p>"Kick me out, if you can," came the reply. "Get up and do it," and the +young man laughed scornfully. "No, you know you can't. Now, look here; +just a word before we part. I've stood your insolent abuse for a week, +without retaliating. But when you laid hands upon that boy it was a +different matter."</p> + +<p>"But he flew at me like a wild-cat," Farrington growled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and wouldn't anyone with a spark of life in him at all, after he had +been insulted by such a thing as you. You like to get a chap such as that +in your claws and torture him. You've done it before, I understand. But +it's not been such fun this time. No, no, the worm has turned at last. I'm +going now--so do what you like. I've no fear of such a thing as you."</p> + +<p>He turned, put on his heavy coat and left the building. As he did so Dan +slipped out ahead of him, and started up the road as fast as his little +feet would carry him.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_08"></a>Chapter VIII</h1> + +<h2>The Golden Key</h2> + + + +<p>"Why, Dan, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Nellie was sitting before the open fire busily engaged with her needle as +the lad entered the room. He stared at her for an instant, and then a +sheepish grin crossed his face. His clothes were torn, and his hair tossed +in the wildest confusion, while marks of blood spotted his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What in the world have you been doing?" Nellie insisted.</p> + +<p>"Nuthin' much," came the slow reply,</p> + +<p>"Well, you don't look like it. Have you been fighting?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet!" and Dan smacked his lips. "I swatted him good and hard, that's +what I did."</p> + +<p>"Did what?"</p> + +<p>"Swatted him--punched his face, and dug out some of his hair."</p> + +<p>"Punched his face and dug out his hair!" Nellie exclaimed. "I don't +understand. Sit down, and tell me about it."</p> + +<p>Perched upon a chair Dan gave a brief though vivid description of the +scene in the store, to which Nellie listened with almost breathless +interest.</p> + +<p>"And did he say that father took old Billy's gold?" she asked. "Are you +sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure's I'm livin'. He said it, and he called him a rogue and me a--a--bad +name!" Dan was about to tell what that name was, but the word stuck in his +throat, and he found it impossible to bring it forth. "Sucker and +sponger!" how those words stung him. How contemptuously his father had +always spoken of such people. They rankled in his heart as he sped up the +road. A squirrel in an old fir-tree had shouted them at him, while a +forlorn crow soaring overhead had looked down and given its hoarse croak +of contempt. He was a sucker--a sponger! living upon others! What was he +doing to earn his living? Nothing. What would his father think were he +alive?</p> + +<p>"Dan, I'm sorry you did that," and as Nellie looked into those big brown +eyes a deep love for this little lad welled up in her heart.</p> + +<p>"Why. I thought you'd be glad," came the astonished reply. "If anybody +called my dad bad names when he was alive I'd been glad if someone swatted +him."</p> + +<p>Nellie remained silent for a while, steadily working away at her sewing.</p> + +<p>"Dan," she said at length, "I want you to promise me something, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Y'bet. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to promise that you will say nothing about this to my father."</p> + +<p>"Why? Wouldn't he like to know how I punched that man?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. And besides I don't want him to know what has been said about +him. It's a cruel lie, and if father hears of it, it will worry him so +much. Will you keep the secret with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want me to. I'll not say a word, but, oh, I think Parson John +would like to know how I punched him," and Dan gave a deep sigh at the +thought of losing such pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Nellie replied. "I know I can trust you. Run away now, change +your clothes, and wash your face; then get the wood in, before father +comes home."</p> + +<p>Long and silently Nellie remained before the fire with her hands resting +upon her lap. Her brain was in a tumult, and her heart ached. What else +was being said about her father? To whom should she go for information? +She thought of Mrs. Larkins, but then she was over at the Hall getting +ready for a church sale to be given that very evening by the Ladies' Aid +Society. Stephen was coming for her early, as she was to have charge of +one of the fancy booths. Afterwards there was to be a quiet dance by the +young people, and she had promised Stephen that she would stay for a +while, and have her first dance with him.</p> + +<p>At length she aroused from her reverie and prepared her father's supper. +How weary he looked, she thought, as she sat and watched him, and listened +to his casual talk about his afternoon visit and the auction in the +morning. A feeling of resentment filled her heart as she recalled what +Farrington had said. To think that he should say such things about her +father, who was always so patient and loving; who was ever trying to help +others, no matter who they were. Tears came to her eyes at the thought. +Suddenly she rose, and going to where her father was sitting put her arms +around him, and gave him a loving kiss.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" came the delighted exclamation. "What ails my little girl +to-night? What does she want now?"</p> + +<p>"I want you, daddy," she replied. "I want to love you more, and be more +help to you."</p> + +<p>"Help me more! What could you do more than you do now? There, run away and +get ready. I hear bells; Stephen must be coming, and I'm afraid you'll be +late. Dan and I will look after the dishes."</p> + +<p>That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler +tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was +truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as +they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and +strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for +the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and +maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were +their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life.</p> + +<p>Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest +conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around +and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the +room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down +by her side.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you +would care to remain."</p> + +<p>"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins +replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie."</p> + +<p>"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience +troubles me."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about my father."</p> + +<p>"Why, is he sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should +have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it +was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; +thinking about others all the time."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. But he is feeling rather down-cast to-night after that +auction this morning. Some cruel things were said about him, and I always +know when he is in trouble, though he seldom complains."</p> + +<p>Nellie paused, and gazed for a time upon the group in the centre of the +room, as if intent on what was taking place there. Then her dark eyes, +filled with a questioning look, turned full upon Mrs. Larkins' face.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to be with you for a few moments," she whispered, "for I wish +to ask you something. I have only spoken of it to Vivien, for she is so +true and noble. Have you heard these stories about my father, Mrs. +Larkins?"</p> + +<p>"In connection with Billy Fletcher's gold?" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, that is what I mean. Oh, it troubles me so much."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard some of them, Nellie. But do not give yourself +unnecessary concern. Evil-minded people will talk. I said nothing to you, +hoping the matter would soon die down. Has your father heard anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet, and I trust no one will tell him. He has enough worry now +without these. He has that trouble with the mine in British Columbia; +then, this morning's annoyance. Oh, he must not know what people are +saying!"</p> + +<p>"I have heard but little lately," Mrs. Larkins responded in an effort to +comfort her. "Let us trust that the talk will not amount to much."</p> + +<p>"But Vivien tells me that it is not so. Since the auction the stories have +started up again stronger than ever. People cannot understand where father +got so much money to pay for the farm. I don't even know myself, for +father never told me. Tom Fletcher and others are saying all sorts of +things. What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>Her bosom heaved as she uttered these words, which somewhat expressed the +agitated state of her mind. Before Mrs. Larkins could further reply, the +music struck up, and Stephen came for Nellie to claim her for the opening +dance.</p> + +<p>"How worthy," thought Mrs. Larkins as her eyes followed Nellie as she went +forward, "is she of a true man's love. What nobleness and strength of +character are there. But what of Stephen? If he would only get the right +grip. Such a face as his is surely meant for higher things than a life of +carelessness."</p> + +<p>She was aroused by Farrington, who had taken the seat by her side which +Nellie had recently vacated.</p> + +<p>"They're hevin' a good time," he began, nodding towards the dancers. +"Dick's in his element to-night."</p> + +<p>"Rhoda Gadsby makes him a good partner," replied Mrs. Larkins.</p> + +<p>"Only fair, Mrs. Larkins, only fair. She's not a bad girl, but no real +pardner fer my son Dick. I'm sorry her father is my opponent at the comin' +election. He'll never win, mark my word. Gadsby's too full of notions. He +wants to set the world on fire, an' has all kinds of new-fangled idees. He +will never do fer a Councillor-never. What Glendow wants is a real +practical man, one who understands human nater."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Gadsby is a superior man," replied Mrs. Larkins. "He reads much, +and is trying to farm along scientific lines."</p> + +<p>"Tryin' to farm! Yes, yer right thar, Mrs. Larkins. But that's about as +fer as he's got. He has big idees, an' is allus talkin' about this parish +bein' behint the times."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as regards the schools. They don't teach enough branches, sich as +botany, drawin' an' sich like. What do the childern of Glendow want with +botany stuck into their brains? Let 'em learn to read, write an' cipher. +Them things will pay. But as fer botany, who ever heerd of it helpin' a +man to manage a farm, or a woman to sew, cook or make butter? Now, look at +me, Mrs. Larkins. I never studied botany, an' behold my bizness. I don't +know a bit about botany, an' here I'm runnin' fer a Councillor, an' +lookin' forred to the Local House. No, no, this botany bizness is all +nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But," remonstrated Mrs. Larkins, "do you not enjoy the beautiful? Life +should be more than the mere grubbing through dust and heat, grinding out +our little day, wearing out the body and cramping up the soul in field, +factory, office or behind the counter. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and +whatever tends to enlarge our children's perspective, which will give them +a love for the beautiful, will lessen the drudgery of life, and develop +their characters. The Creator who made human beings in His own image, and +endowed them with powers above the brute creation, surely intended that +these divine faculties should be used and not allowed to lie dormant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins spoke more strongly than was her wont. She was naturally a +quiet woman. But this man's narrowness and ignorance nettled her. +Farrington, however, was not in the least affected by such words; in fact +he rather pitied anyone who did not see eye to eye with him.</p> + +<p>"What ye say, Mrs. Larkins," he replied, "is very fine in theory. But the +question is, 'Will it pay?' Fer them as likes sich things they may study +'em to their hearts' content. But what do sich people amount to? I seen +the parson once stand fer a long time watchin' the settin' sun, an' when I +axed 'im what he saw he looked at me sorter dazed like. 'Mr. Farrington,' +sez he, 'I saw wonderful things to-night, past man's understandin'. I've +been very near to God, an' beheld the trailin' clouds of His glory!' +'Parson,' sez I, 'What will ye take fer yer knowledge? How much is it +worth? While ye've been gazin' out thar at that sunset I've been gazin' at +these letters, an' I find I'm better off by twenty-five dollars by gittin' +my eggs an' butter to market day afore yesterday, jist when the prices had +riz. That's what comes of gazin' at facts sich as price lists an' knowin' +how to buy an' sell at the right time. That's of more value than lookin' +at all the flowers an' sunsets in the world!' The parson didn't say +nuthin', but jist looked at me, while the men in the store haw-hawed right +out an' told the joke all round. Xo, you may find music in ripplin' water, +an' poetry in flowers, an' sunsets, as Phil Gadsby and the parson sez, but +give me the poetry of a price list, an' the music of good solid coin upon +my counter. Them's the things which tell, an' them's the things we want +taught in our schools."</p> + +<p>Just as Farrington finished, cries of fright fell upon their ears. Turning +quickly towards the dancers Mrs. Larkins noticed that most of them had +fallen back in little groups, leaving Stephen Frenelle and Dick Farrington +alone in the middle of the room. The attitude of the two left no doubt as +to the cause of the disturbance. With clenched fists they faced each other +as if about to engage in a fierce struggle. The former's eyes glowed with +an intense light, while his strained, white face betokened the agitated +state of his feelings.</p> + +<p>"Say that again!" he hissed, looking straight at his opponent. "Say it if +you dare!"</p> + +<p>Dick stood irresolute with the look of fear blanching his face at sight of +the angry form before him. While he hesitated and all held their breath, +Nellie Westmore moved swiftly forward, and laid a timid hand upon +Stephen's arm.</p> + +<p>"Stephen, Stephen!" she pleaded. "Stop! don't go any further! Be a man! +Come, let us go home!"</p> + +<p>Quickly he turned and looked into her eyes, and at that look the pallor +fled his face, leaving it flushed and abashed. His clenched hands relaxed, +and without a word he followed her to the door. As they donned their wraps +and passed out into the night, sighs of relief at the termination of this +startling incident were plainly heard. Dick gave a sarcastic laugh, and +the dance continued as if nothing unusual had happened.</p> + +<p>For a while neither Nellie nor Stephen spoke as they sped along the road, +drawn by a magnificent chestnut mare. The night was clear, and the +crescent moon rose high in the heavens. Not a breath of wind stirred the +trees, and the only sound which broke the silence was the jingling bells +keeping time to the horse's nimble feet.</p> + +<p>"He called me a fool and a pauper!" Stephen at length exclaimed. "Did you +hear him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," came the reply. "How could any one help hearing him?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have knocked him down if it hadn't been for you, Nellie."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you didn't, Stephen."</p> + +<p>"But I'll show him a thing or two. I'll get even with him yet. I'll teach +him to call me a fool and a pauper!"</p> + +<p>"Why not get more than even with him? You can do it without any trouble."</p> + +<p>Nellie spoke very impressively, and Stephen looked at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I know I can do that, for he's nothing but a clown. But what else can I +do?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that, Stephen. That is only getting even with your opponent +in brute fashion. You will only be putting yourself on an equality with +him. You want to get more than even, not by hitting back and returning +abuse for abuse. No, not that way, but by rising above him in manhood."</p> + +<p>"How? In what way, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Settle down to steady work. Redeem your home. Show Dick and the people of +Glendow that you are not a fool or a pauper, but a man. Oh, Stephen, we +want to be proud of you--and I do, too."</p> + +<p>"Do you, Nellie, really?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do, Stephen."</p> + +<p>For an instant only their eyes met. For an instant there was silence. But +in that instant, that mere atom of time, there opened up to Stephen a new +meaning of life. A virile energy rent the old husk of indifference, and a +yearning, startling in its intensity, stabbed his heart, to "make good," +to recover lost ground and to do something of which Nellie should be +proud.</p> + +<p>It was love--the golden key which had at last opened to the young man the +mystic door of life's great responsibility.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_09"></a>Chapter IX</h1> + +<h2>Beating the Devil</h2> + + + +<p>"Father, I am becoming uneasy about Dan."</p> + +<p>Parson John and Nellie were walking slowly along the road from the neat +little parish church. It was a Sunday morning. Not a breath of wind +stirred the balmy and spring-like air. A recent thaw had removed much of +the snow, leaving the fields quite bare, the roads slippery, and the ice +on the river like one huge gleaming mirror.</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" asked the parson. "What makes you uneasy about +Dan?"</p> + +<p>"He has been so restless of late."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he mind you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. He is always ready and anxious to do anything I ask him. But +there is a far-away look in his eyes, and sometimes he gives such a start +when I speak to him. His old life was so rough and stirring, that I fear +he misses it, and longs to be back there, again."</p> + +<p>"But he is interested in his studies, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to a certain extent. But not as much as formerly. It is hard for him +to settle down to steady work. He seems to be thinking and dreaming of +something else. I cannot understand him at all. I love the lad, and +believe he is much attached to us."</p> + +<p>"What do you think we had better do?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know, father. But you might take him with you sometimes on your +drives. He is passionately fond of Midnight, and it would liven him up. +Why not let him go with you to the funeral at Craig's Corner this +afternoon? He would be company for you, too."</p> + +<p>"But I'm not coming home until to-morrow. I expect to spend the night +there, and in the morning go overland to see the Stickles and take those +good things you have been making for the sick man. You will need Dan to +stay with you."</p> + +<p>"No, I shall be all right. Vivien Nelson has asked me to go there +to-night, so I shall get along nicely."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear," her father replied. "You are just like your mother, +always planning for someone else, and planning so well, too."</p> + +<p>Dan's heart thrilled with pride and delight as he sat by Parson John's +side and watched Midnight swinging along at her usual steady jog when +there was no special hurry. So intent was the one upon watching the horse, +and the other upon his sermon, that neither noticed a man driving a +spirited horse dart out from behind a sharp point on the left, and cut +straight across the river. It was old Tim Fraser, as big a rogue as +existed anywhere in the land. He was very fond of horses, and that winter +had purchased a new flier. He was an incessant boaster, and one day swore +that he could out-travel anything on the river, Midnight included. He laid +a wager to that effect, which was taken up by Dave Morehouse, who imagined +the race would never come off, for Mr. Westmore would have nothing to do +with such sport. Old Fraser, therefore, set about to meet Parson John, but +for some time had failed to make connection. Hearing about the funeral, he +was determined that the race should come off that very Sunday, and in the +presence of the mourners and their friends at that. He accordingly hid +behind Break-Neck Point, and with delight watched the parson drive up the +river, and at the right moment he started forth for the fray. As Fraser +swung into line and was about to pass, Midnight gave a great bound +forward, and it was all that Parson John could do to hold her in check, +for she danced and strained at the reins as her rival sped on ahead. At +length Fraser slowed down, dropped behind, and, just when Midnight had +steadied down, up he clattered again. This he did three times in quick +succession, causing Midnight to quiver with excitement, and madly to champ +the bit. At length the climax was reached, for the noble beast, hearing +again the thud of her opponent's hoofs, became completely unmanageable. +With a snort of excitement she laid low her head, took the bit firmly +between her teeth, and started up the river like a whirlwind. The more +Parson John shouted and tugged at the reins the more determined she +became. The ice fairly flew from beneath her feet, and the trailing froth +flecked her black hide like driving snow. Neck and neck the horses raced +for some time, while Fraser grinned with delight at the success of his +scheme.</p> + +<p>Before long the funeral procession came into view, making for the little +church near the graveyard on the opposite shore. Parson John was feeling +most keenly the position in which he was so unfortunately placed. He could +see only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to leave Fraser +behind. Therefore, before the first sleigh of the funeral procession was +reached he gave Midnight the reins, and thus no longer restrained she drew +gradually away from her opponent. On she flew, past the staring, gaping +people, and for a mile beyond the church.</p> + +<p>By this time Fraser was so far in the rear that he gave up the race. +Beaten and crestfallen he turned to the left, made for the shore and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>At length Parson John was able to bring Midnight under control, when she +trotted quietly down the river with a triumphant gleam in her handsome +eyes. After the funeral had been conducted, a group at once surrounded the +parson and questioned him concerning the strange occurrence on the river. +Some were pleased with Fraser's ignominious defeat, and treated it as a +huge joke. But others were sorely scandalized. What would the members of +the other church in Glendow say when they heard of it? To think that their +clergyman should be racing on the river, and on a Sunday, too, while on +his way to attend a funeral--the most solemn of all occasions!</p> + +<p>"Well, you see," continued the parson, after he had explained the +circumstance, "Fraser is a hard man to deal with, and in some ways I am +really glad it happened as it did."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" gasped several of the most rigid.</p> + +<p>"It's just this way," and a twinkle shone in the parson's eyes. "Five and +thirty years have I served in the sacred ministry of our Church. During +the whole of that time I have endeavoured to do my duty. I have faced the +devil on many occasions, and trust that in the encounters I did no +discredit to my calling. I have tried never to let him get ahead of me, +and I am very thankful he didn't do it this afternoon with Tim Fraser's +fast horse."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Parson John had won the day, and the group dispersed, chuckling with +delight, and anxious to pass on the yarn to others.</p> + +<p>That same evening Mr. Westmore was seated comfortably in Jim Rickhart's +cosy sitting-room. The family gathered around in anticipation of a +pleasant chat, for the rector was a good talker, and his visit was always +an occasion of considerable interest. A few neighbours had dropped in to +hear the news of the parish, and the latest tidings from the world at +large. They had not been seated long ere a loud rap sounded upon the door, +and when it was opened, a man encased in a heavy coat entered.</p> + +<p>"Is Parson John here?" were his first words.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mr. Rickhart replied. "He's in the sitting-room. Do you want to see +him? Is it a wedding, Sam? You look excited."</p> + +<p>"Should say not. It's more like a funeral. Old Tim Fraser's met with a bad +accident."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was drivin' home from the river this afternoon, when that new +horse of his shied, and then bolted. The sleigh gave a nasty slew on the +icy road, and upset. Tim was caught somehow, and dragged quite a piece. +He's badly broken up, and wants to see the parson."</p> + +<p>By this time Mr. Westmore had crossed the room, and stood before the +messenger. A startled look was in his eyes, as he peered keenly into Sam's +face.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, is it true what I hear," he questioned, "that Fraser has been +hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, and wants you at once."</p> + +<p>"Is he seriously injured?"</p> + +<p>"Can't tell. They're goin' fer the doctor, but it'll be some time before +he can get there. It's a long way."</p> + +<p>"Poor Fraser! Poor Fraser!" murmured the parson. "He was a careless man. I +was bitter at him this afternoon, and now he is lying there. Quick, Dan, +get on your coat and hat; we must be off at once."</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to make ready, and soon Midnight was speeding +through the darkness. This time it was no leisurely jog, but the pace she +well knew how to set when her master was forth on important business. +Across the river she sped, then over hill and valley, which echoed with +the merry jingle of the bells. For some time Parson John did not speak, +and seemed to be intent solely upon Midnight.</p> + +<p>"Dan," he remarked at length, as they wound slowly up a steep hill, "it's +a mean thing, isn't it, to get many, many good things from someone, and +never do anything in return, and not even to say 'Thank you?'"</p> + +<p>The lad started at these words, and but for the darkness a flush would +have been seen upon his face. "What does the parson mean?" he thought. +"That was about what Farrington said. To get, and give nothing in return; +to be a sucker and a sponger."</p> + +<p>But the parson needed no reply. He did not even notice Dan's silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he continued; "it's a mean thing. But that's just what Tim Fraser's +been doing all his life. The good Lord has given him so many blessings of +health, home, fine wife and children, and notwithstanding all these +blessings, he's been ever against Him. He curses and swears, laughs at +religion, and you saw what he did this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"'Tis mean, awful mean," Dan replied, as the parson paused, and flicked +the snow with his whip. "But maybe he's sorry, now, that he's hurt."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he is, Dan. But it's a mean thing to give the best of life to +Satan, and to give the dregs, the last few days, when the body is too weak +to do anything, to the Lord. And yet I find that is so often done, and I'm +afraid it's the case now."</p> + +<p>When they reached Fraser's house they found great excitement within. Men +and women were moving about the kitchen and sitting-room trying to help, +and yet always getting into one another's way. Midnight was taken to the +barn, Dan was led into the kitchen to get warm, while the parson went at +once to the room where Tim was lying.</p> + +<p>Dan shrank back in a corner, for he felt much abashed at the sight of so +many strangers. He wanted to be alone--to think about what the parson had +said coming along the road. And so Fraser was a sponger, and a sucker too, +getting so many good things and giving nothing back. It was mean, and yet +what was he himself but a sponger? What was he doing for Nellie and Parson +John for what they were doing for him? They gave him a comfortable home, +fed, clothed, and taught him, and he was doing nothing to pay them back. +How disgusted his father would be if he only knew about it.</p> + +<p>For the life of him Dan could not have expressed these feelings to anyone. +He only knew that they ran through his mind like lightning, making him +feel very miserable. His cheeks flushed, and a slight sigh escaped his +lips as he sat crouched there in the corner with one small hand supporting +his chin. No one heeded him, for all were too much excited over the +accident to take any notice of a little boy.</p> + +<p>"I said that horse would be the death of him," he heard a woman exclaim. +"Tim's too old a man to drive such a beast as that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the beast's all right," an old man slowly replied, "but it was put to +a wrong use, that's where the trouble came."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know? Didn't you hear about what happened on the river this +afternoon? Tim went there on purpose to meet the parson, and strike up a +race. He's been boasting for some time that he would do it. The Lord has +given that man much rope, and has suffered him long. But this was too +much, and He's tripped him up at last."</p> + +<p>"Peter Brown," and the woman held up her hands in astonishment, "how can +you say such a thing about your old neighbour, and in his house, too, with +him lying there in that condition?"</p> + +<p>"I'm only saying what the rest know and think," was the calm reply. "I've +told Tim time and time again right to his face that the Lord would settle +with him some day. 'Tim,' said I, and it was not later than last fall that +I said it, 'Tim, the Lord has been good to you. He's blessed you in every +way. You've health, strength, and a good home. And what have you done for +Him? What have you given in return? Nothing. You curse, revile and scorn +Him on the slightest pretext. It's not only mean, Tim, but you'll get +punished some day, and don't you forget it.' But he only swore at me, and +told me to shut up and mind my own business and he would mind his. But my +words have come true, and I guess Tim sees it at last."</p> + +<p>Dan was sitting bolt upright now, with his hands clenched and eyes staring +hard at the speaker. The words had gone straight to his little heart, with +terrible, stinging intensity. This man was saying what Farrington and the +parson had said. It must be true. But the idea of the punishment was +something new. He had never thought of that before.</p> + +<p>And even as he looked, a silence spread throughout the room, for Parson +John was standing in the doorway. Upon his face an expression dwelt which +awed more than many words, and all at once realized that the venerable man +had just stepped from the solemn chamber of Death.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_10"></a>Chapter X</h1> + +<h2>In Camp</h2> + + +<p>Nestling snugly among large stately trees of pine and spruce, the little +log-cabin presented a picturesque appearance. Its one room, lighted by a +small window, served as kitchen, living and sleeping apartments combined. +It was warm, for the rough logs were well chinked with moss, while the +snow lay thick upon the roof and banked up around the sides. This cabin +had been recently built, and stood there by the little brook as an outward +and visible sign of an inward change in the heart and mind of one of +Glendow's sturdy sons.</p> + +<p>The night Stephen Frenelle left Nellie at the Rectory after the drive home +from the dance, he had fought one of those stern, fierce battles which +must come to all at some time in life. As Jacob of old wrestled all night +long for the mastery, so did Stephen in the silence of his own room. Sleep +fled his eyes as he paced up and down, struggling with the contending +thoughts which filled his heart. At times he clenched his hands and ground +his teeth together as he pictured Dick Farrington standing in the Hall, +hurling forth his taunting remarks. Then he longed for daylight to come +that he might go to his house, call him forth, and give him the thrashing +he so well deserved. He would drive that impudent, sarcastic smile from +his face, and make him take back his words. A voice seemed to say to him, +"Do it. <i>You must</i> do it if you consider yourself a man. He insulted +you to your face, and people will call you a coward if you allow it to +pass." But always there came to him that gentle touch on his arm; he heard +a voice pleading with him to be a man, and saw Nellie looking at him with +those large, beseeching eyes, and his clenched hands would relax. And thus +the battle raged; now this way, now that. Which side would win? When at +length the first streak of dawn was breaking far off in the eastern sky, +and Stephen came forth from the Chamber of Decision, there was no doubt as +to the outcome of the fight. His face bore the marks of the struggle, but +it also shone with a new light. When his mother and Nora came downstairs +they were astonished to see him up so early, the fire in the kitchen stove +burning brightly, and the cattle and sheep fed. Usually Stephen was hard +to arouse in the morning, and it was nearly noon before the chores were +finished, and then always in a half-hearted way. They looked at each +other, and wondered at the change which had taken place.</p> + +<p>Although Stephen had won a victory over himself, he was yet much puzzled. +He wished to redeem the homestead, but how should he set about the task? +As he waited that morning while breakfast was being prepared, this was the +great thought uppermost in his mind. He knew that when spring came there +was the farm to work. In the meantime, however, during the days of winter +when the ground was covered with snow, what could he do? Once aroused, it +was needful for him to set to work as soon as possible. Mechanically he +picked up the weekly paper lying on a chair and glanced carelessly at the +headlines set forth in bold type. As he did so his attention was arrested +by two words "Logs Wanted." He read the article through which told how the +price of lumber had suddenly advanced, and that logs were in great demand. +When Stephen laid down the paper and went into breakfast, the puzzle had +been solved. What about that heavy timber at the rear of their farm? No +axe had as yet rung there, no fire had devastated the place, and the trees +stood tall and straight in majestic grandeur. A brook flowed near which +would bear the logs down the river.</p> + +<p>His mother's and sister's hearts bounded with joy as Stephen unfolded to +them his plan. He would hire two choppers; one could go home at night, +while the other, old Henry, could live with him in the little camp he +would build. They would chop while he hauled the logs to the brook. Mrs. +Frenelle and Nora would do most of the cooking at home, and Stephen, would +come for it at certain times. Thus a new spirit pervaded the house that +day, and Mrs. Frenelle's heart was lighter than it had been for many +months. Stephen did not tell her the cause of this sudden change, but with +a loving mother's perception she felt that Nellie's gentle influence had +much to do with it all.</p> + +<p>One week later the cabin was built, the forest ringing with the sturdy +blows of axes and the resounding crash of some hoary pine or spruce. +Although the work was heavy, Stephen's heart was light. Not only did he +feel the zest of one who had grappled with life in the noble effort to do +the best be could, but he had Nellie's approbation. He drank in the +bracing air of the open as never before, and revelled in the rich perfume +of the various trees as he moved along their great cathedral-like aisles, +carpeted with the whitest of snow.</p> + +<p>The two choppers were kept busy from morning dawn to sunset. They were +skilled craftsmen, trained from early days in woodland lore. One, old +Henry, thoroughly enjoyed his work and at times snatches of a familiar +song fell from his lips as his axe bit deep into the side of some large +tree.</p> + +<p>"You did that well, Henry," Stephen one day remarked, as he watched a +monster spruce wing its way to earth with a terrific crash.</p> + +<p>"It's all in knowin' how," was the deliberate reply, as the old man began +to trim the prostrate form. "Now, a greenhorn 'ud rush in, an' hack an' +chop any old way, an' afore he knew what he was doin' the tree 'ud be +tumblin' down in the wrong place, an' mebbe right a-top of 'im at that. +But I size things up a bit afore I hit a clip. Havin' made up me mind as +to the best spot to fell her, I swing to, an' whar I pint her thar she +goes; that's all thar is about it."</p> + +<p>"But doesn't the wind bother you sometimes?" Stephen inquired.</p> + +<p>The chopper walked deliberately to the butt-end of the tree, and with the +pole of his axe marked off the length of the log. Then he moistened his +hands and drove the keen blade through the juicy bark deep into the wood.</p> + +<p>"I allow fer the wind, laddie," he replied, "I allow fer that. When the +good Lord sends the wind, sometimes from the North, sometimes from the +South, I don't go agin it. Why, what's the use of goin' agin His will, an' +it's all the same whether yer choppin' down a tree, or runnin' across the +sea of Life fer the great Port beyon'. That's what the parson says, an' I +guess he knows, though it seems to me that the poor man hisself has +head-winds aplenty jist now."</p> + +<p>Stephen asked no more questions then, being too busy. But that night, +after supper, as the old man was mending his mittens he sat down by his +side.</p> + +<p>"Henry," he began, "how is it that the parson has head-winds? Do you think +it's the Lord's will?"</p> + +<p>"'Tain't the Lord's will, laddie," was the slow response. "Oh no, 'tain't +His."</p> + +<p>"Whose, then?"</p> + +<p>"It's the devil's, that's whose it is, an' he's usin' sartin men in +Glendow as human bellows to blow his vile wind aginst that man of God. +That's what he's doin', an' they can't see it nohow."</p> + +<p>"And so you think the parson had nothing to do with Billy Fletcher's gold. +You think he is innocent?"</p> + +<p>"Think it, laddie? Think it? What's the use of thinkin' it when I know it. +Haven't I known Parson John fer forty years now. Can't I well remember +when his hair, which is now so white, was as black as the raven's wing. +An' why did it become white? I ax ye that. It's not old age which done it, +ah no. It's care an' work fer the people of Glendow, that's what's done +it. D'ye think I'd believe any yarn about a man that's been mor'n a father +to me an' my family? Didn't I see 'im kneelin' by my little Bennie's bed, +twenty years ago come next June, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks as +he axed the Good Lord to spare the little lad to us a while longer. Mark +my word, Stevie, them people who are tellin' sich stories about that man +'ill come to no good. Doesn't the Lord say in his great Book, 'Touch not +Mine anointed, an' do My prophets no harm?' My old woman often reads them +words to me, fer she's a fine scholar is Marthy. 'Henry,' says she, 'the +parson is the Lord's anointed. He's sot aside fer a holy work, an' it's a +risky bizness to interfere with eich a man.'"</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the speaker finished when the door of the cabin was pushed +suddenly open, and a queer little man entered. A fur cap was pulled down +over his ears, while across his left shoulder and fastened around his body +several times was a new half-inch rope.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Pete," Stephen exclaimed, "You look cold. Come to the stove and +get warm."</p> + +<p>"Y'bet I'm cold," was the reply. "My fingers and nose are most froze."</p> + +<p>"What's brought you away out here this time of the night?" questioned +Stephen, "I thought you liked the store too well to travel this far from +the fire."</p> + +<p>"Bizness, Steve, bizness," and the man rubbed his hands together, at the +same time taking a good survey of the cabin.</p> + +<p>"You look as if you were going to hang yourself, Pete, with all that rope +about your body. Surely you're not tired of living yet."</p> + +<p>"No, no, Steve. Not on your life. There'd be no fun in that, an' it's fun +I'm after this time."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you said you were out on business, and now you say it's +fun."</p> + +<p>"Bizness an' fun, me boy. Bizness an' fun; that's my motto. My bizness +this time is to pinch the Stickles' cow, an' the fun 'ill be to hear +Stickles, Mrs. Stickles an' the little Stickles squeal. Ha, ha! Bizness +an' fun, Steve. Bizness an' fun."</p> + +<p>"What! You're not going to take away the only cow the Stickles have left?" +cried Stephen in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Sure. It's the boss's orders, an' he doesn't mean fun, either. Nuthin' +but bizness with 'im; ah no, nuthin' but bizness."</p> + +<p>"Farrington is a mean rascal!" and Stephen leaped to his feet, his fists +clenched and his eyes flashing. "Hasn't he any heart at all? To think of +him taking the only cow from a poor family when the husband is sick in +bed! What does the man mean?"</p> + +<p>"Don't git excited, me boy. It's only bizness, boss sez, only bizness. The +heart has nuthin' to do with that."</p> + +<p>"Business be blowed! It's vile meanness, that's what it is! And will you +help him out with such work?"</p> + +<p>"It's bizness agin, Steve. I've got to live, an' keep the missus an' +kiddies. What else is there fer a feller to do?"</p> + +<p>"But why is Farrington taking the cow in the winter time, Pete? Why +doesn't he wait until the summer, and give the Stickles a chance?"</p> + +<p>"It all on account of a woman's tongue. That's what's the trouble."</p> + +<p>"A woman's tongue?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a woman's tongue, an' ye know it's Mrs. Stickles' without me tellin' +ye. She told Tommy Jones, wot told Betty Sharp, wot told the boss, that +she was mighty glad the parson beat 'im at the auction. So the boss got +mad as blazes, an' has sent me fer the cow to pay what the Stickles owe +'im. That's all I know about it, lad, so good-bye to yez both, fer I must +be off. I'm to stay the night at Tommy Jones', an' in the mornin' will go +from there fer the cow. Bizness an' fun, Steve; bizness an' fun; don't +fergit that," and the little old man went off chuckling in high glee.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_11"></a>Chapter XI</h1> + +<h2>Guarding the Flock</h2> + + + +<p>It was nearing the noon hour, and the sun slanting through the forest +lifted into bold relief the trailing shadows of the stately trees. A +lively chickadee was cheeping from a tall spruce, and a bold camp-robber +was hopping in front of the cabin door picking up morsels of food which +were occasionally cast forth. Stephen was preparing dinner, and the +appetizing smell drifted out upon the air. Not far away, perched upon the +branch of a tree, a sleek squirrel was filling the air with his noisy +chattering and scolding. His bright little eyes sparkled with anger at the +big strange intruder into his domain, causing him to pour forth all the +vitriol of the squirrel vocabulary. Suddenly his noisy commotion ceased, +and he lifted his head in a listening attitude. Presently down the trail +leading to the main highway the sound of bells could be distinctly heard. +As they drew nearer their music filled the air, reverberating from hill to +hill and pulsing among the countless reaches of the great sombre forest. +Not a child in the parish of Glendow but knew that familiar sound, and +would rush eagerly into the house with the welcome tidings, for did it not +mean a piece of candy hidden away in most mysterious pockets, which seemed +never to be empty? How often in the deep of night tired sleepers in some +lonely farm-house had been awakened by their merry jingle, and in the +morning husband and wife would discuss the matter and wonder what sick +person Parson John had been visiting.</p> + +<p>The bells grew more distinct now and brought Stephen to the door. Soon +Midnight appeared swinging around a bend in the trail, with her fine neck +proudly arched, ears pointed forward, and her large eyes keen with +expectancy. The squirrel scurried away in a rage; the chickadee hopped to +a safe retreat, and even the saucy camp-robber considered it wise to flap +lazily to the top of the cabin.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to see you, Stephen," was Parson John's hearty greeting as he +held out his hand. "Dan and I are on our way to visit the Stickles, and +called in to see you in passing. What a snug place you have built here. I +trust you are getting along nicely."</p> + +<p>"Better than I expected," was the reply. "But, say, Parson, you're just in +time for dinner. Let me put Midnight in the barn. She won't object, at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"What! is it that late?" and the worthy man glanced at the sun. "Dear me, +how the time does fly! Well, then, if we will not be in the way I shall +enjoy it very much, for it has been many a day since I have dined in the +woods. But, wait," he cried, as Stephen was leading Midnight to the +stable, "There's a basket of stuff, some pies, and I don't know what else, +in the sleigh for hardy woodsmen, with Nellie's compliments. No, no, not +that basket. It's for the Stickles. The smaller one; I think you'll find +it in the back of the sleigh. There, that's it, with the green handle. It +takes a large basket for all the little Stickles!" and the parson gave a +hearty laugh.</p> + +<p>What a dinner they had in the little cabin that day. Never did meat taste +so good, and never did pie have such a delicious flavour as that which +Nellie had made. The table and stools were rough, the food served on +coarse dishes, and each one helped himself. But what did it matter? Their +appetites were keen and the parson a most entertaining visitor. He told +about the race on the river the day before, and of Tim Fraser's accident +and sudden death, to which the choppers listened with almost breathless +interest, at times giving vent to ejaculations of surprise.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry we have no milk to offer you," laughed Stephen, passing the +parson a cup of black tea. "But at any minute now a cow may be passing +this way and we might be able to obtain some."</p> + +<p>"A cow passing! I don't understand," and Mr. Westmore stirred the sugar in +his tea.</p> + +<p>"Yes. The Stickles are losing their only cow. Farrington has sent Pete +after her, and he should be along by this time."</p> + +<p>"Stephen," and Parson John's face changed from its genial expression to +one of severity, "do I understand you aright? Do you mean to tell me that +Farrington is taking the Stickles' only cow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm not joking. It's the solid truth. Pete stopped here on his way +out last night, and told us all about it."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" sighed the parson, placing his hand to his head. "When +will that man cease to be a thorn in the flesh? The Stickles are as honest +as the sun, and Farrington knows it. This business must be stopped. Dan +will you please bring out Midnight. We must hurry away at once."</p> + +<p>Soon the little cabin was left behind and they were swinging out along the +trail. The parson was quiet now. His old jocular spirit had departed, +leaving him very thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"The poor people! The poor people!" he ejaculated. "When will such things +cease? Why will men dressed in a little brief authority try to crush those +less fortunate? Dan, my boy, you may be a big man some day. You may get +money, but never forget the poor. Be kind to them rather than to the +powerful. They need kindness and sympathy, lad, more than others. My +parents were poor, and I know how they toiled and slaved to give me an +education. I well remember how they worked early and late until their +fingers were knotted and their backs bowed. They are the noble ones who +live in our midst, and though they may have little of this world's goods, +they have great souls and are the real salt of the earth. Never forget +that, boy."</p> + +<p>Dan did not know how to reply to these words, but sat very still watching +Midnight speeding on her way. The road wound for some distance through a +wooded region and over several hills. At length it entered upon a +settlement where the land was lean and rocks lifted their frowning heads +above the surface. The few houses were poor, standing out grey and gaunt +in the midst of this weird barrenness. But at every door Midnight was +accustomed to stop. Well did she know the little voices which welcomed +her, and the tiny hands which stroked her soft nose, or held up some +dainty morsel of bread, potatoes or grass. But to-day there was none of +this. She knew when the reins throbbed with an energy which meant hurry. +Past the gateways she clipped with those long steady strides over the icy +road, across a bleak stretch of country, down a valley, up a winding hill, +and then away to the right through a long narrow lane to a lone +farm-house.</p> + +<p>As they approached a commotion was observed near the barn. Soon the cause +was clearly manifest. Pete, assisted by someone, who proved to be Tommy +Jones, had his rope about the horns of a black and white cow, and was +endeavouring to lead her away. Mrs. Stickles and four little Stickles were +filling the air with their cries of anger and protest. The cow, frightened +by the noise, had become confused, and was trying to bolt towards the +barn. Pete was tugging at the rope, while his assistant was belabouring +her with a stout stick.</p> + +<p>"Ye brutes!" Mrs. Stickles was shouting at the top of her voice. "What +d'yez mean by thumpin' me poor Pansy in that way! But here comes the +Lord's avengin' angel, praise His holy name! Stop 'em, Parson!" she +shrieked, rushing towards the sleigh. "Smite 'em down, Parson, an' pray +the Lord to turn His hottest thunderbolt upon Si Farrington's head!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, woman," Mr. Westmore remonstrated. "Don't talk that way. +'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay.'"</p> + +<p>By this time the refractory cow had been brought to a state of partial +subjection, and stood blinking at her captors as if uncertain what course +to pursue. Leaving the sleigh, Mr. Westmore strode over to where the three +were standing and laid his hand upon the rope.</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of this, Pete?" he asked. "Why are you troubling this +family?"</p> + +<p>"It's them that's troublin' me, sir," was the reply. "I'm jist here on +bizness, an' it's bizness I mean. If ye'll jist keep that whirlwind of a +woman away an' them squaking kids so I kin git this cratur clear of the +barn-yard, she'll walk like a daisy."</p> + +<p>"But why are you taking the animal? Don't you know it's their only cow, +and it's very important that Mr. Stickles, who is sick in bed, should have +fresh milk every day?"</p> + +<p>"That's not my bizness, Parson. My bizness is to git the cow; so stand +clear if ye please, fer I want to git away. I'm late as 'tis."</p> + +<p>"Hold a minute, Pete," and the parson laid a firmer hand upon the rope. +"Who sent you here after this cow?"</p> + +<p>"The boss, of course."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington?"</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"And he wants the cow in payment of a debt, does he?"</p> + +<p>"Guess so. But that ain't none of my bizness. My bizness is to git the +cow."</p> + +<p>"How much is the debt, anyway?" the parson asked, turning to Mrs. +Stickles, who was standing near with arms akimbo.</p> + +<p>"Twenty dollars, sir. No mor'n twenty dollars. Not one cent more, an' +Tony'll pay every cent when he comes from the woods."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Pete," and the parson turned towards the latter, "unfasten +this cow, and go back to your master. Tell him that I will be responsible +for the debt, and that he shall have the full amount as soon as I get +home."</p> + +<p>But Pete shook his head, and began to gather up the loose end of the rope +into a little coil in his left hand.</p> + +<p>"That ain't the 'boss's order, sir. 'Fetch her, Pete,' sez he, 'an' let +nuthin' stop ye. If they hev the money to pay, don't take it. The cow's of +more value to me than money.' Them's his very orders."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see, I see," Mr. Westmore remarked, as a stern look crossed his +face, and his eyes flashed with indignation. "It's not the money your +master wants, but only the pound of flesh."</p> + +<p>"Boss didn't say nuthin' 'bout any pound of flesh. He only said 'the cow,' +an' the cow he'll git if Pete Davis knows anything."</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash Parson John's hand dove deep into his capacious pocket. +He whipped out a clasp-knife, opened it, and with one vigorous stroke +severed the rope about one foot from the cow's head.</p> + +<p>"There!" he cried to the staring, gaping Pete. "Take that rope to your +master, and tell him what I have done. Leave the matter to me. I alone +will be responsible for this deed."</p> + +<p>The appearance of Mr. Westmore at this moment was enough to awe even the +most careless. His gigantic form was drawn to its fullest height. His +flashing eyes, turned full upon Pete's face, caused that obsequious menial +to fall back a step or two. Even a blow from the parson's clenched fist +just then would not have been a surprise. His spirit at this moment was +that of the prophets of old, and even of the Great Master Himself, +upholding justice and defending the cause of the poor and down-trodden.</p> + +<p>For an instant only they faced each other. Then, Pete's eyes dropped as +the eyes of an abashed dog before his master. He stooped for the rope, +which had fallen to the ground, and slowly gathered it into a little coil. +But still he maintained his ground.</p> + +<p>"Are you going?" demanded the parson.</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the surly response. "I'm goin', but remember you hev +interfered with Si Farrington's lawful bizness, so beware! I'll go an' +tell 'im what ye say. Oh, yes, I'll go, but you'll hear from 'im again. +Oh, yes, ye'll hear."</p> + +<p>"Let 'im come 'imself next time fer the cow," spoke up Mrs. Stickles, who +had been silently watching the proceedings. "I'd like fer 'im to come. I'd +like to git me fingers into his hair an' across his nasty, scrawny face. +That's what I'd like to do."</p> + +<p>"Hold yer tongue!" shouted Pete, "an'----"</p> + +<p>"There now, no more of that," commanded Mr. Westmore. "We've had too many +words already, so take yourself off."</p> + +<p>They watched him as he moved down the lane to the road. He was followed by +Tommy Jones, who had stood through it all with mouth wide open, and eyes +staring with astonishment. When they were at length clear of the place the +parson gave a sigh of relief, and across his face flitted a smile--like +sunshine after storm.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_12"></a>Chapter XII</h1> + +<h2>Light and Shadow</h2> + + + +<p>Upon entering the house Mr. Westmore divested himself of his great-coat, +and stood warming himself by the kitchen fire, while Mrs. Stickles bustled +around, smoothing down the bedclothes and putting the room to rights in +which her sick husband lay. The kitchen floor was as white as human hands +could make it, and the stove shone like polished ebony. Upon this a kettle +steamed, while underneath a sleek Maltese cat was curled, softly purring +in calm content.</p> + +<p>Dan, assisted by the little Stickles, stabled Midnight, after which he was +conducted over to the back of the barn to enjoy the pleasure of coasting +down an icy grade. The only sound, therefore, was Mrs. Stickles' voice in +the next room as she related to "her man" the wonderful events which had +just taken place. A slight smile of pleasure crossed the parson's face as +he listened to her words and thought of the big honest heart beneath that +marvellous tongue. The sun of the winter day was streaming through the +little window and falling athwart the foot of the bed as Mr. Westmore +entered the room and grasped the sick man's white, outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"God bless ye, sir," exclaimed Mr. Stickles, "fer what ye hev done fer me +an' mine to-day. It ain't the first time by a long chalk. The Lord will +reward ye, even if I can't."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man, don't mention it," Mr. Westmore replied as he took a seat +by the bed. "And how are you feeling to-day, Mr. Stickles?"</p> + +<p>"Only middlin', Parson, only middlin'. Simply joggin', simply joggin'."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles seated herself in a splint-bottomed chair, and picked up her +knitting which had been hurriedly dropped upon the arrival of Pete Davis. +How her fingers did work! It was wonderful to watch them. How hard and +worn they were, and yet so nimble. The needles flew with lightning +rapidity, clicking against one another with a rhythmical cadence; the +music of humble, consecrated work. But when Mr. Westmore began to tell +about Tim Fraser, and his sudden death, the knitting dropped into her lap, +and she stared at the speaker with open-eyed astonishment.</p> + +<p>"An' do ye mean to tell me," she exclaimed, when the parson had finished, +"that Tim Fraser is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's only too true, Mrs. Stickles. Poor man--poor man!"</p> + +<p>"Ye may well call 'im poor, Parson, fer I'm thinkin' that's jist what he +is at this blessed minute. He's in a bad way now, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Marthy," her husband remonstrated. "We must not judge too +harshly."</p> + +<p>"I'm not, John, I'm not, an' the parson knows I'm not. But if Tim isn't +sizzlin', then the Bible's clean wrong," and the needles clicked harder +than ever.</p> + +<p>"It teaches us the uncertainty of life," replied Mr. Westmore. "It shows +how a man with great strength, and health can be stricken down in an +instant. How important it is to be always ready when the call does come."</p> + +<p>"Ye're right, Parson, ye're surely right," and Mrs. Stickles stopped to +count her stitches. "Wasn't John an' me talkin' about that only last +night. I was readin' the Bible to 'im, an' had come to that story about +poor old Samson, an' his hard luck."</p> + +<p>"'It's very strange,' sez John, sez he to me, 'that when Samson lost his +hair he lost his great strength, too. I can't unnerstan' it nohow.'"</p> + +<p>"'Why, that's simple enough,' sez I to 'im. 'The Lord when He let Samson's +strength rest in his hair jist wanted to teach 'im how unsartin a thing +strength is. 'Why, anyone can cut off yer hair,' sez I, 'an' ye know, +John,' sez I, 'ye don't allus have to cut it off, either, fer it falls out +like yourn, John--fer yer almost bald.' Ain't them the exact words I said, +John, an' only last night at that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marthy. That's just what ye said, an' we see how true it is. Tim +Fraser was a powerful man as fer as strength an' health goes, but what did +it all amount to? He lost it as quick as Samson of old. Ah, yes, a man's a +mighty weak thing, an' his strength very unsartin, an' hangs by a slender +thread. Look at me, parson. Once I was able to stan' almost anything, an' +here I be a useless log--a burden to meself an' family."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, John, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Stickles wiping her eyes +with her apron. "Ye know ye ain't a bother. Yer as patient as a fly in +molasses. The fly is thar an' can't help it, an' so are you, John. It's +the Lord's will, an' ye've often said so. He'll look after me an' the +little ones. He's never forsaken us yit, an' I guess He won't if we stick +to 'im."</p> + +<p>"Your children are certainly a credit to you, Mrs. Stickles," remarked Mr. +Westmore. "You should be proud of them."</p> + +<p>"I am, sir, indeed I am," and the worthy woman's face beamed with +pleasure. "But it takes a lot of 'scretion, Parson, to handle a big +family. I've often said to John that children are like postage-stamps. +They've got to be licked sometimes to do the work they were intended to +do. But if ye lick 'em too much, ye spile 'em. Oh, yes, it takes great +'scretion to bring up a family."</p> + +<p>"You certainly have used great discretion," replied Parson John, much +amused at Mrs. Stickles' words. "I suppose those who are working out are +just as dear as the four little ones at home?"</p> + +<p>"They're all dear to me, sir, all dear. I kin count 'em all on me ten +fingers, no more an' no less. Now some fingers are larger than t'others, +and some smaller, an' some more useful than t'others an' do more work, but +I couldn't part with one. So as I often tell John our children are jist +like me ten fingers. I couldn't do without one of 'em--ah, no, bless their +dear hearts."</p> + +<p>The sound of little feet and childish voices caused them to look towards +the kitchen. There they beheld the four little Stickles, with Dan in the +midst, standing in a row by the stove.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the parson, rising and going towards them. "So here +you are, as fresh and active as ever."</p> + +<p>Diving deep into his pocket he brought forth a generous piece of home-made +candy.</p> + +<p>"Sweets for the sweet," he cried. "Now, who's to have this?"</p> + +<p>At once a rush ensued and four little forms surrounded him.</p> + +<p>"Wait, wait; not yet!" and the good man held the candy aloft. "Nothing +given away here. You must earn every bit. All in a row now. There, that's +better," and he lined them up, like a veteran schoolmaster, proud of his +little class. "Come, I want your names. You begin," and he tapped the +nearest to him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"John Medley Stickles, sir," came the quick reply.</p> + +<p>"A good name, my little man," and the parson patted him on the head. "May +you be worthy of your namesake, that noble man of God--the first Bishop of +this Diocese. Now next," and he pointed to the second little Stickles.</p> + +<p>"Benjamin Alexander Stickles, sir,"</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha. Named after your two grandfathers. Fine men they were, too. Now +my little maiden, we'll hear from you."</p> + +<p>"Martha Trumpit Stickles, sir," came the shy response.</p> + +<p>"That's a good name, my dear, after your mother--and with her eyes, too. +Just one more left. Come, my dear, what have you to say?"</p> + +<p>"Ruth Wethmore Stickles, thir, if you pleath," lisped the little lass, +with her eyes upon the floor.</p> + +<p>At these words the parson paused, as if uncertain what to say. "Ruth, the +gleaner," he at length slowly remarked. "Ruth Westmore. Ah, Mrs. Stickles, +I little thought that day my dear wife stood sponsor for your baby here, +and gave her her own name, how soon she would be taken from us. Four +years--four long years since she went home. But come, but come," he +hurriedly continued, noticing Mrs. Stickles about to place her apron to +her eyes. "I have a question to ask each little one here, and then +something is coming. Look, John, answer me, quick. How many Commandments +are there?"</p> + +<p>"Ten, sir," came the ready reply.</p> + +<p>"What is the fifth one?"</p> + +<p>"Honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land which +the Lord thy God giveth thee."</p> + +<p>"That's good, that's good. Don't forget that, my little man. The first +commandment with promise. I taught your brother Tony that when he was a +little lad, and I'm sure he hasn't forgotten it. Now, Bennie, what two +things do we learn from these commandments?"</p> + +<p>"My duty towards God, an' my duty towards my neighbour."</p> + +<p>"Right, right you are. Now, Martha, what were you made at your baptism?"</p> + +<p>"A member of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the Kingdom of +Heaven."</p> + +<p>"Well done. I thought that would stick you, but I see you have learned +your lesson well! It's Ruth's turn now. Can you tell me, my dear, what +happened on Good Friday?"</p> + +<p>"Jesus died, thir, on the Croth."</p> + +<p>"And what took place on Easter Day?"</p> + +<p>"He roth from the grave, thir."</p> + +<p>"Good, good. Always remember that. Good Friday and Easter Day come very +near together. 'Earth's saddest day and brightest day are just one day +apart.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles' face beamed with pleasure as the parson praised the little +class, and gave a piece of candy to each. Then he drew from his pocket a +small package wrapped in white tissue paper tied with a piece of pink +ribbon, and held it up before the wondering eyes of the little Stickles.</p> + +<p>"From Nellie," he remarked. "Candy she made herself for the one who can +best say the verses on the Christian Year she gave you to learn some time +ago. Now, who can say them all through without one mistake?"</p> + +<p>Instantly four little hands shot up into the air, and four pairs of +sparkling eyes were fixed eagerly upon the coveted treasure.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bennie, we'll try you," said the parson. "Stand up straight, and +don't be afraid to speak out."</p> + +<blockquote> "Advent tells us Christ is here,<br /> + Christmas tells us Christ is near--"</blockquote> + +<p>"Hold, hold!" cried Mr. Westmore. "Try again."</p> + +<p>But the second attempt proving worse than the first, it was passed on to +Martha. Bravely the little maiden plunged into the intricacies of the two +first verses, but became a total wreck upon the third. Try as she might +the words would not come, and tears were in her eyes when at length she +gave up the attempt and waited for John Medley to conquer where she had +failed. But alas! though starting in bravely he mixed Epiphany and Advent +so hopelessly that the parson was forced to stop his wild wanderings.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" Mr. Westmore exclaimed. "What are we to do? Surely +Ruth can do better than this."</p> + +<p>With hands clasped demurely before her and her eyes fixed upon the floor, +slowly the little maiden began to lisp forth the words while the rest +listened in almost breathless silence.</p> + +<blockquote> "Advent telth uth Christ ith near;<br /> + Christmath telth uth Christ ith here;<br /> + In Epithany we trath<br /> + All the glory of Hith grath."</blockquote> + +<p>Thus steadily on she lisped through verse after verse, and when the last +was completed a sigh of relief was heard from Mrs. Stickles, while the +parson clapped his hands with delight. How her eyes did sparkle as he +handed her the little package, with a few words of encouragement, and how +longingly the three others looked upon the treasure.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Mr. Westmore, "we must be away. Nellie will wonder what has +become of us."</p> + +<p>"Not yet, sir, not yet!" cried Mrs. Stickles. "You must have a cup of tea +first.' The water is bilin', an' it'll be ready in a jiffy. Did ye give +Midnight any hay?" she demanded, turning to Bennie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma!" came the reply. "I fergot all about it."</p> + +<p>"There now, it's jist like ye. Hurry off this minute and give that poor +critter some of that good hay from the nigh loft."</p> + +<p>As the little Stickles and Dan scurried out of the room, Ruth still +clutching her precious package, Mrs. Stickles turned to Mr. Westmore.</p> + +<p>"There now, Parson, ye jist must wait, an' have that cup of tea, an' some +of my fresh bread. We shan't tech Nellie's pies an' cake, cause ye kin hev +her cookin' any time, bless her dear heart. How I wish she was here +herself so I could look into her sweet face an' tell her meself how +grateful I am."</p> + +<p>Hardly had the parson seated himself at the table ere several piercing +shrieks fell upon his ears. Rushing to the door he beheld John Medley +hurrying towards the house with arms at right angles, and his face as pale +as death.</p> + +<p>"Child! Child! What is it?" shouted Mrs. Stickles.</p> + +<p>"R-r-uth's k-k-illed! She f-f-ell from the la-la-der. Oh! Oh!"</p> + +<p>Waiting to hear no more they hurried to the barn, and there they found the +little form lying on the floor, still grasping in her hand the precious +package.</p> + +<p>"My poor lamb! My darlin' baby! are ye kilt, are ye kilt?" wailed Mrs. +Stickles, kneeling down by her side. "Speak to me, my lamb, my little +baby! Oh, speak to yer mammy!"</p> + +<p>But no sign of recognition came from the prostrate child. Seeing this the +mother sprang to her feet and wrung her hands in agony of despair.</p> + +<p>"What will we do? Oh, what kin we do? My baby is kilt--my poor darlin'! +Oh--oh--oh!"</p> + +<p>Tenderly Parson John lifted the child in his arms, carried her into the +house, and laid her on the settle near the stove. It was found that she +was breathing, and soon a little water brought some color into her face. +Presently she opened her eyes, and started up, but fell back again, with a +cry of pain, fiercely clutching the package.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dear?" asked the parson. "Where is the pain?"</p> + +<p>"My leg! My leg!" moaned the child.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I feared so," exclaimed Mr. Westmore, after a brief examination. "We +must have the doctor at once. Is there anyone near who will go for him, +Mrs. Stickles?"</p> + +<p>"Not a man, sir, that's fit to go. They're all in the woods. Oh, what kin +we do!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Mrs. Stickles," was the reassuring reply. "Midnight will go, +and I will hold the reins. Come, Dan, the horse, quick."</p> + +<p>As Midnight drew up to the door a few minutes later, Parson John came out +of the house and affectionately patted the sleek neck of the noble animal.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Midnight," he said, "you must do your best to-day. It's for the +sake of the little lass, and she was getting hay for you. Don't forget +that."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_13"></a>Chapter XIII</h1> + +<h2>For the Sake of a Child</h2> + + + +<p>Night had shut down over the land as Midnight, with her long, swinging +strides, clipped through the lighted streets of the prosperous little +railway town of Bradin, and drew up at old Doctor Leeds' snug house. A +fast express had just thundered shrieking by. A strong, cutting wind +racing in from the Northeast was tearing through the sinuous telegraph +wires with a buzzing sound, the weird prelude of a coming storm.</p> + +<p>The worthy doctor was at home, having only lately returned from a long +drive into the country. He and his wife, a kindly-faced little woman, were +just sitting down to their quiet meal. Seldom could they have an evening +together, for the doctor's field was a large one and his patients +numerous.</p> + +<p>"You have no engagement for to-night, I hope, Joseph," remarked his wife, +as she poured the tea.</p> + +<p>"No, dear," was the reply. "I expect to have one evening at home, and I'm +very glad of it, too. I'm weary to-night, and am longing for my arm-chair, +with my papers and pipe."</p> + +<p>A sharp knock upon the door aroused them, and great was their surprise to +see the venerable Rector of Glendow enter.</p> + +<p>"Parson John!" cried the doctor, rushing forward and grasping his old +friend's hand. "It's been months since I've seen you. What lucky event +brought you here to-night? Did you miss the train? If so, I'm glad. My +chessmen are moulding for want of use."</p> + +<p>But the parson shook his head and briefly told of the accident in the +barn.</p> + +<p>"And so the little lass is in trouble, hey? More worry for Mrs. Stickles."</p> + +<p>"And you will be able to go to-night, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Sweepstakes hasn't been on the road for two days, and is keen +for a good run."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," remonstrated Mrs. Leeds, "are you able to go? You have +been driving all day, and must be very tired. Why not rest a little +first?"</p> + +<p>"And let the poor child suffer that much longer! Not a bit of it."</p> + +<p>"I have heard doctors say," remarked the parson, as he and Dan sat down to +their supper, "that they get so hardened to suffering that at last it does +not affect them at all. I am glad it is not true with you."</p> + +<p>"The older I get," replied the doctor thoughtfully, stirring his tea, "the +more my heart aches at the pains and sufferings of others, especially in +little children. As soon as I hear of someone in distress I can never rest +until I reach his or her side. There always comes to me a voice urging me +to make haste. Even now I seem to hear that child calling to me. She is a +sweet, pretty lass, and how often have I patted her fair little head, and +to think of those blue eyes filled with tears, that tiny face drawn with +pain, and her whole body writhing in agony. However, you know all about +this, Parson, so what's the use of my talking."</p> + +<p>"But I am glad to hear you speak as you do, Doctor. Over thirty years have +I been in Glendow, and I become more affected by suffering the older I +get."</p> + +<p>The doctor looked keenly into Mr. Westmore's face, as if trying to read +his inmost thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever become weary of your work?" he at length asked. "Do you not +long for a more congenial field?"</p> + +<p>"I have often been asked that question, Doctor," the parson slowly +replied, "but not so much of late. I am getting old now, and young men are +needed, so I am somewhat forgotten. However, I am glad that this is so. +Years ago when a tempting offer came to me from some influential parish, +though I always refused, it disturbed me for days, until the matter was +finally settled. Now I do not have such distractions, and am quite happy. +In the quiet parish of Glendow I find all that the heart can desire. The +labour to me becomes no more monotonous than the work of parents with +their children. They often are weary in their toil for their little ones, +but not weary of it. The body gives out at times, but not the love in the +heart. And so I always find something new and fresh in my work which gives +such a relish to life. I have baptized most of the young people in this +parish, I have prepared them for Confirmation, given them their first +Communion, and in numerous cases have joined their hands in holy wedlock. +Some may long for a greater field and a wealthy congregation. But, +remember, as the sun in the heavens may be seen as clearly in the tiny +dewdrop as in the great ocean, so I can see the glory of the Father +shining in these humble parishioners of mine, especially so in the +children of tender years, as in the great intellects. As for travelling +abroad to see the world and its wonders, I find I can do it more +conveniently in my quiet study among my books. At a very small cost I can +wander to all parts of the world, without the dangers and inconveniences +of steamers and railroads. As to studying human nature, it is to be found +in any parish. Carlyle well said that 'any road, this simple Entepfuhl +road, will lead you to the end of the world,' and was it not the quaint +and humble-minded Thoreau who expressed himself in somewhat the same way:</p> + +<blockquote> "'If with Fancy unfurled,<br /> + You leave your abode,<br /> + You may go round the world,<br /> + By the Marlboro road.'"</blockquote> + +<p>The doctor rose from the table and grasped Mr. Westmore's hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for those words," he said. "I have thought of those very things +so often, and you have expressed my ideas exactly. I must now be away. You +will stay all night, for I wish to have a good chat with you upon my +return."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," the parson replied, "but we must be off as soon as +possible. My daughter is all alone and will be quite uneasy by my long +absence. We shall go home by the way of Flett's Corner, and thus save +three miles. But look, Doctor, don't send your bill to the Stickles. Send +it to me. Now be sure."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man. Don't worry about the bills of others. Leave this matter +to me. The Stickles won't have any cause for anxiety about the bill, and +why should you? It's paid already."</p> + +<p>What a noble picture these two men presented as they stood there! Both had +grown old in a noble service for their fellow-men, and truly their grey +heads were beautiful crowns of glory. One had charge of the cure of souls, +the other of bodies, and yet there was no clashing. Each respected the +work of the other, and both were inspired with the high motive which lifts +any profession or occupation above the ordinary--the Christ-like motive of +love.</p> + +<p>Parson John remained for some time after the doctor had left, chatting +with Mrs. Leeds, and when at length Midnight started on her homeward way +it was quite late. They had not advanced far before the storm which had +been threatening swept upon them. Although the night was dark, the roadbed +was firm and Midnight surefooted. As they scudded forward the wind howled +through the trees and dashed the snow against their faces. They fled by +farm-houses and caught fleeting glimpses of the bright, cosy scenes +within. Twice they met belated teams plodding wearily homeward. Without +one touch of rein, or word of command, each time Midnight slowed down, +swerved to the left and swung by. It was only when the dim, dark forms of +the panting steeds loomed up for an instant on their right, and then +disappeared into the blackness, were they aware of their presence. +Occasionally the road wound for a mile or more through a wooded region, +and in such places they found peace and shelter. Here the wind could not +reach them, although they could hear its wild ravings in the tree-tops +above. The snow came softly, silently down, and, although they could not +see it falling, they could feel it flecking their faces and knew it was +weaving its mystic robe over their bodies. In one place such as this a +faint glimmer of light struggled through the darkness a short distance +from the road.</p> + +<p>"It's Stephen's cabin," the parson remarked. "It is a snug place on a +night like this. I wonder what he is doing now. I wish we had time to call +to give him a word of cheer."</p> + +<p>About two hundred yards beyond the cabin they left the main highway and +entered upon a lumber road. This latter was used in the winter time in +order to avoid a large hill on the former and the huge drifts which piled +from fence to fence. At first Midnight slowed down to a walk, but at +length, becoming a little impatient to get home, she broke into a gentle +trot. Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the sleigh gave a great lurch, and +before a hand could be raised Dan found himself shooting over the parson +and falling headlong into the soft yielding snow. Recovering himself as +quickly as possible, and brushing the snow from his mouth, ears and eyes, +he groped around to ascertain what had happened. Away in the distance he +could hear a crashing sound as Midnight hurried along with the overturned +sleigh. Then all was still. He called and shouted, but received no reply. +A feeling of dread crept over him, and at once he started to walk back to +the road. He had advanced but a few steps, however, when he stumbled and +half fell over a form which he knew must be that of Parson John. He put +out his hand and felt his coat. Then he called, but all in vain. Hastily +fumbling in his pockets he drew forth several matches and tried to strike +a light. His little hands trembled as he did so, and time and time again a +draught blew out the tiny flame. In desperation he at length kneeled down +upon the snow, sheltered the match with his coat, and ere long had the +satisfaction of seeing the flame grow strong and steady. Carefully he held +it up and the small light illumined the darkness for the space of a few +feet around. Then it fell upon the prostrate form at his side. It touched +for an instant the old man's face, oh, so still and white, lying there in +the snow; and then an awful blackness. The light had gone out!</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_14"></a>Chapter XIV</h1> + +<h2>The Long Night</h2> + + + +<p>As Dan stood there in the darkness with snow to his knees, clutching +between his fingers the extinguished match, the helplessness of his +position dawned upon him. What had happened to the parson he could easily +guess, for the place was full of old stumps, half protruding from beneath +the snow. No doubt he had struck one of these in the fall. But of the +result of the blow he could not tell, for placing his ear close down to +the face he tried to detect some sign of life, but all in vain. Suppose +the parson had been killed! He thought of Nellie, waiting anxiously at the +Rectory. How could he tell her what had happened? Suddenly a new sense of +responsibility came to him. Something must be done as quickly as possible, +and he was the only one to do it. He thought of Stephen's cabin, which +they had passed a short time before. He could obtain help there, and he +must go at once. Taking off his own outer coat he laid it carefully over +the prostrate man, and then struggled back to the road. Having reached +this he imagined it would not take him long to cover the distance. But he +soon found how difficult was the undertaking, and what a task it was to +keep the road on such a night. The blackness was intense, and the snow, +which all the time had been steadily falling, added to the difficulty. +Every few steps he would plunge off into the deep snow, and flounder +around again until he had regained the solid footing. The distance, which +was not more than a mile, seemed never-ending. Still he plodded on, the +thought of that silent form lying in the snow inspiring him with extra +energy. At length, much exhausted, a welcome glimmer of light winged its +way through the darkness. Dan's heart leaped within him. The place was +near, and Stephen had not yet gone to bed. Panting heavily, and struggling +unsteadily, he crept slowly forward, reached the door and pounded fiercely +upon it with both doubled-up fists.</p> + +<p>Slowly the door was opened, and great was Stephen's surprise to see the +little snow-covered figure standing before him.</p> + +<p>"Help! Come quick!" gasped Dan.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" Stephen demanded, dragging the boy into the cabin. +"Where's the parson?"</p> + +<p>"Over there--in the snow--in the woods!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down," said Stephen, noticing how weary and excited was the little +lad. "Tell me now all about it."</p> + +<p>Quickly and briefly Dan related about the drive through the storm, the +accident on the "cut off," and Parson John's fall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" Stephen groaned when he had heard the story. "What will Nellie +think? What will she say? It will break her heart! I must be off at once!"</p> + +<p>Reaching for the lantern his hand trembled as he lighted it.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," he commanded, "till I hitch Dexter to the pung; or no, you'd +better come with me and give a hand. There is no time to lose."</p> + +<p>Dan obeyed without a word and held the lantern while Stephen harnessed the +horse.</p> + +<p>"Where's Midnight?" Stephen asked, as he deftly drew the reins through the +terrets.</p> + +<p>"She ran away. I heard the sleigh crashing after her as she ran."</p> + +<p>"She'll kill herself! But no, she's too wise for that. She'll go home and +whinny at the door, and then what will Nellie think! We must hurry along +as fast as possible. She will he frantic with fear."</p> + +<p>"Guess we'd better bring the parson back to your place," Dan remarked as +Dexter swung down the road.</p> + +<p>"Bring him to my place!" exclaimed Stephen in surprise. "What can we do +for him there?"</p> + +<p>"Won't he need the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he may. But we can't go all the way to Bradin now."</p> + +<p>"Guess you won't have to do that."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"He's at the Stickles'."</p> + +<p>"At the Stickles'?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. The little girl got hurt, so we went after the doctor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see--I see now," Stephen mused. "That's a different matter. It's +only three miles to the Stickles'. But the road will be bad to-night, for +the wind's across country, and the drifts there pile fast and deep. But I +shall go if necessary, even if I have to crawl on all fours. I won't have +to do that, though, for Dexter will take me through if any horse can."</p> + +<p>It did not take them long to cover the one mile of road between the cabin +and the place where the accident had occurred. By the light of the lantern +it was not difficult to find the spot. An uncanny feeling crept over them +as they drew near, and saw the parson lying there in the snow just as Dan +had left him. With the lantern in his hand Stephen leaped from the pung +and looked intently into the face of the prostrate man. It did not take +him long to ascertain that life still remained in his body, and a prayer +of thankfulness went up from his heart as he thought of the dear old man +and the anxious Nellie.</p> + +<p>Quickly and as carefully as possible they lifted him into the pung, +covered him with a warm robe, and then sped back to the cabin. As soon as +they had laid him upon the bed, Stephen reached for a heavy coat hanging +on the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'm off now," he said. "You keep watch. I'll be back as soon as I can."</p> + +<p>The injured man lay perfectly motionless, to all outward appearance dead. +Dan stood looking at him for some time after Stephen had left, puzzled and +bewildered. What could he do? What would Nellie think of him now? He sank +upon the stool by the bedside And buried his face in his hands--a forlorn +little creature, trying to think. Presently he glanced towards the bed, +and gazed long and intently upon the parson's face. Many were the thoughts +which crowded into his mind as he sat there. A deep affection for the old +man had sprung up in his heart. To him he was like some superior being +with his great strength and wonderful knowledge. Then to think he should +care for him, Dan Flitter, so small, who could neither read nor write, who +was nothing but a sponger. The thought of Farrington's insult came to him, +and what he had said about the parson. It had rankled continually in his +breast, and now it arose in greater force than ever. Why were the people +saying such things about this good man? He had listened to men talking in +the store and along the road. They had said and hinted many things, and he +had been silent. But, though silent, his mind and heart had been at work. +Often while lying in his little bed at night he had brooded over the +matter. He longed to do something to clear the parson, and show the people +that they were wrong. But what could he do? They would not listen to him. +They hinted that the parson had stolen the gold, and what could he say? It +needed more than words. These were the thoughts which had been beating +through his brain for days, giving him at times that listless manner, +far-away look, and lack of interest in his studies, which worried Nellie +so much. So sitting on guard by the injured man's side this night with +large, dreamy eyes, thoughtful face--more thoughtful than ordinary for a +child of his age--he recalled the various scenes since the night of the +fire. Suddenly his face flushed, the dreamy expression faded from his +eyes, as the dim light of dawn is dispersed by the fulness of day. They +shone with a new radiance as he turned them upon the parson's face. He +rose to his feet and walked quickly up and down the room. He was once +again a creature of the wild. The glory of a lofty purpose fired his +blood. He had experienced it before when, out in the woods, he had +followed the tracks of the nimble deer, or listened to the whirr of the +startled pigeon. But now it was a nobler chase, a loftier purpose, in +which the honour of a faithful friend was at stake.</p> + +<p>A sound from the bed startled him. Glancing quickly in that direction he +noticed the lips of the wounded man moving. No sign of consciousness, +however, did he give. He was in another world, the strange, mysterious +world, where the mind roams at will and language flows from the +fountain-head of the inner being.</p> + +<p>"'The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee--drink +this--.'" He was in church at the Communion service, administering the +cup.</p> + +<p>"Four thousand dollars." He was at the auction now, eager and intent.</p> + +<p>"Poor lassie, poor little lamb." This time it was the injured Stickles +child. And thus he rambled on from one thing to another, while Dan stood +like a statue in the room staring upon him. Suddenly he opened his eyes, +looked around in a dazed manner, and then fixed them upon the boy's face. +He moved a little, and at once a cry of pain escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"Dan! Dan!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter? Where am I, and what is the +meaning of this pain in my shoulder?"</p> + +<p>The look in his face was most pathetic, and Dan longed to do something to +relieve his suffering.</p> + +<p>"Does yer shoulder hurt much?" the lad asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, the pain is intense. Tell me how it happened."</p> + +<p>"We were chucked from the sleigh, an' I guess you struck a stump," was the +reply.</p> + +<p>"Is this Stephen's cabin?"</p> + +<p>"Yep. He's gone fer the doctor, so I'm keepin' watch."</p> + +<p>The parson remained very quiet, and did not speak for some time. He still +felt confused, and his shoulder was giving him great pain. He realized, +however, how much he owed to Dan. What if he had been alone when the +accident occurred?</p> + +<p>"Did you come back for Stephen?" he at length questioned.</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>"And you were not hurt? Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure's I'm livin'."</p> + +<p>"And you were not afraid to come alone to the cabin for help?"</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't mind."</p> + +<p>"You're a brave boy, Dan. You've done much for me to-night. Saved my life, +in fact."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't do much. Not worth mentionin'," and the lad took his seat by +the bedside.</p> + +<p>How the time did creep by. Often Dan went to the door and looked out. He +strained his ears in order to hear the sound of bells, but the wind +moaning and tearing through the tree-tops alone fell upon his ears. At +last, when his patience was almost exhausted, the door was flung open, and +Doctor Leeds entered, covered with snow, and a most anxious look upon his +face. It did not take long for the practised eye and hand to ascertain the +trouble. The shoulder had been dislocated, and would have to be replaced.</p> + +<p>Then the parson showed of what stuff he was made. Hardly a sound escaped +his lips as the doctor, assisted by Stephen, performed the painful +operation.</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed the physician, as he bound up the wounded member, +"we'll have you round again in a short time. Now, some would have squaked +and yelled like a baby, but you're a man through and through." "Thank +you, Doctor. You are very good. But how about the little lass? You didn't +leave her for me? Tell me the truth," and the parson's eyes sought the +doctor's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you worry about her," was the good-natured reply. "Sweepstakes +took me over the road like the wind, and I had the poor little leg all +fixed up before Stephen arrived. She'll do very well now without my care. +But come, we must get you home at once."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I am able to go?"</p> + +<p>"Able! certainly you're able. Home's the only place for you, though the +journey may cause you some pain."</p> + +<p>"And you will come too, Doctor? You muat be very tired, and need a good +rest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm going with you. I'm not going to leave you yet. You're worth +fifty ordinary men, and we must not run any risk. Besides that, sir, I do +want a glimpse of your dear Nellie, and a little chat with her. I haven't +rested my eyes upon her for months, and do you think I'm going to miss +such an opportunity? No, sir, not a bit of it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore was forced to smile in spite of his weakness as he looked +into the doctor's strong, rugged face.</p> + +<p>"God bless you," he replied. "This isn't the first time you have been a +firm friend to me. I can never forget how you stood day and night by the +side of my dear wife, doing all in your power to keep her with us a little +longer."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, man," and the doctor turned away to hide a mistiness in his +eyes. "She was worthy of it, and her like can't be found every day. But +come, Steve has been waiting at the door for some time, and we must be +away."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_15"></a>Chapter XV</h1>. + +Deepening Shadows + + + +<p>As Nellie stood at the study window the Sunday afternoon her father left +for Craig's Corner a sense of depression and loneliness stole over her. +How much longer could her father continue those hard drives, she wondered. +He was getting old. His hair was so white and his steps feeble. What was +to become of him when he could perform his beloved work no longer? She +knew very well how they were pressed for money, and how much had gone to +help Philip in his fight in British Columbia. How many things had they +gone without! Even mere common necessities had been given up. Naturally +her mind turned to the auction, and the money her father had paid down for +the farm. Four thousand dollars! Where had it come from, and why would her +father never tell her, or speak about it in her presence? How often had +she lain awake at night thinking about it all! Then to hear people more +than hinting about Billy Fletcher's gold, and what had become of it, was +at times more than she could bear. Never for a moment did she doubt her +father, but often she longed to ask him for an explanation of the mystery. +Was the money his own, or was he handling it for someone else? If so, why +should he not tell her--his only daughter--who was so dear to him?</p> + +<p>She was aroused by the arrival of several children from the houses nearest +the Rectory. Every Sunday afternoon Nellie found her real enjoyment with +her little class. She had known them all since their birth, and they loved +her. How longingly they looked forward to that brief Sunday gathering. +There were no harsh, strict rules here, no perfunctory opening and +closing, and no lifeless lessons droned forth in a half-rebellious spirit. +It was all joy and love. How their voices did ring as Nellie played on the +little harmonium some sweet hymn attuned to childish hearts and minds. +Then, after the lessons were over, there came the treat of the day--a +story read from one of those marvellous books kept on a shelf in a corner +all by themselves. When at last the story had been finished and the class +dispersed, Nellie locked the doors, and made her way to Vivien Nelson's. +What a hearty welcome she received from them all! To Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, +hard-working, God-fearing people, she was as their own daughter. She and +Vivien, their only child, had been playmates together at school, and their +friendship had never languished. There Nellie felt at home. She knew that +no matter what disagreeable things were being said about her father +throughout the parish, no word of reproach or blame was ever mentioned in +the Nelson home. Others might think what they liked about Parson John, but +the Nelsons had known him too long in times of sorrow and joy to believe +any evil of their old Rector.</p> + +<p>Here Nellie stayed until the following afternoon, and then made her way +home to have the house comfortable before her father came back. As the +evening drew near she anxiously watched for his return. She saw the dull +grey sky and knew that a storm threatened. As the darkness deepened and +the wind raved about the house, and the snow beat against the north +windows, her anxiety increased. The supper table stood ready in its snowy +whiteness; the kettle sang on the stove and the fire in the sitting-room +grate threw out its cheerful glow. It was a scene of peace and genial +comfort contrasted with the raging of the elements outside. But Nellie +thought nothing of this, for her heart was too much disturbed. Had +anything happened to her father and Dan? It was some relief to know that +the lad was along, for two were better than one should an accident occur. +Her eyes roamed often to the little clock ticking away on the +mantel-piece. Six-seven-eight-nine. The hours dragged slowly by. She tried +to read, but the words were meaningless. She picked up her needlework, but +soon laid it down again, with no heart to continue. Once more she glanced +at the clock. Ten minutes after nine. She thought it longer than that +since it had struck the hour. She arose to attend the kitchen fire, when a +loud knock upon the front door startled her. She turned back, and stood +for an instant in the centre of the room. Her heart beat fast, and her +face paled. Tramps were frequently seen in Glendow, working their way from +one place to another. At times they were impudent and tried to force an +entrance into houses. It was a likely night for them to seek shelter, and +suppose one were standing out there now! What could she, a lone woman, do? +Another rap, harder than the first, fell upon her ears. Something must be +done, and at once. Crossing the room and pausing near the door she +demanded who was there.</p> + +<p>"Sam Dobbins," came the reply, and Nellie breathed more freely as she +unlocked the door, opened it and admitted the visitor.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a blasted night," the man remarked as he tried to shake himself free +from his mantle of snow and stamped upon the floor with his great heavy +boots. "If I'd known 'twas so bad I'd never stirred one step."</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" questioned Nellie, fearful lest Sam was the bearer of +ill news. "Have you seen my father?"</p> + +<p>"Your father! Isn't he home?" and the man looked his surprise.</p> + +<p>"No, he hasn't come yet, and I'm so uneasy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare, and to think that I have come all the way to see him, +and he's not here. When do you expect him?"</p> + +<p>"I expected him home before dark, but now I don't know what to think. Is +there anything I can do for you, Mr. Dobbins? Won't you take a seat?"</p> + +<p>"No, there's nothin' you kin do, miss. I've got to see the parson, and +only him. I hate the job, but I've got to do it. I'm the only constable in +the place, and I've got to do my duty."</p> + +<p>At these words a startled look came into Nellie's face. She took a step +forward and looked keenly into the man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I know you're a constable, but what do +you want of my father? Oh, please tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Now don't get excited, Miss," Mr. Dobbins kindly replied, looking with +admiration upon the excited young figure before him. "Remember, I've +nothin' against your father. Haven't I shod every horse he had since he +came to this place, long before you were born. He's been a good customer +of mine, and I ain't got nothin' agin him. I'm only doin' my duty as a +constable."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand, Mr. Dobbins. You come here to arrest my father +and----"</p> + +<p>"Only to serve the summons, Miss," interrupted the blacksmith. "I ain't +goin' to arrest him. He'll be asked to appear at the trial, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Trial! what trial?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's in connection with a cow."</p> + +<p>"A cow!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It seems that Si Farrington's hired man, Pete Davis, was takin' away +the Stickles' only cow, when your father appeared on the scene, cut the +rope, set the cow free, and sent Joe off in a hurry. Farrington's in a +rage, and says he'll make the parson smart fer what he did. He's goin' to +take legal action, and so I've been sent to serve the summons. That's all +I know about it, Miss. I'm real sorry, but what else could I do?"</p> + +<p>Nellie made no reply when the man ceased. Words would not come. Her bosom +heaved, and she placed her hand to her forehead in an abstracted manner. +Her eyes were fixed full upon the constable's face, though she did not see +him. Her thoughts were away from that room, out through the storm and +darkness to an old grey-headed man battling somewhere with the tempest, +for the sake of others. What had happened? What would he think when he +reached home to find out what Farrington was doing?</p> + +<p>The constable shifted uneasily from one foot to the other in an +embarrassed manner before those pathetic eyes. He clutched his cap more +firmly in his hands, and shuffled towards the door.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll go now, Miss," he stammered. "I'll step up the road to make a +call and come back again. Maybe your father will be home then."</p> + +<p>Nellie hardly heard the door open and close as the constable passed out +into the night. She stood for awhile as if dazed, then sinking into a +nearby chair she buried her face in her hands. The wind howled and roared +outside, and the snow dashed and swirled against the window. A big grey +cat rose from its position before the fire, came and rubbed its sleek fur +against her dress, and gently purred for some attention. But Nellie did +not heed it. How dark all seemed to her! One thing after another! Why were +these clouds gathering so thick over her dear father's head? It did not +seem possible that he could be kept in ignorance much longer. It was sure +to be revealed through this last trouble.</p> + +<p>A sound fell upon her ears which made her look quickly up. Was it the +wind? She listened with fast-beating heart. Again it came--a pathetic +whinny out in the yard. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to the back +door. She knew that call, for how often had she heard it! Midnight was +there, standing almost at the threshold. Her dim form could be seen as +Nellie peered out. She hurried forth, heedless of the pelting storm, +expecting to hear her father's voice. But no cheery greeting met her, +neither could she find the sleigh. Feeling around with her hands she felt +the trailing shafts, and the awful truth flashed upon her. An accident had +happened! And what of her father? Forgetting the horse she turned back +into the house, seized a cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and hurried +out into the storm. How the wind did roar about her as she waded and half +stumbled through the drifts, which were now filling the road. Anxiety lent +speed to her feet. She dashed on her way, and at length almost breathless +reached the Larkins' house. Upon the door she beat with her hands, and +after what seemed a long time Mr. Larkins made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"Nellie! Nellie!" he exclaimed in affright, as she staggered into the +room. "What in the world is the matter? Tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"F-father's--had--an--a-a-ccident. Midnight came home without the sleigh--dragging the shafts--oh, what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" was the reply. "We shall do what we can! I shall harness the horses +at once, get several of the neighbors, and go in search of him. Don't +worry too much, Nellie. To be pitched out of the sleigh in the soft snow +is not so bad. No doubt we shall meet him and Dan plodding wearily along."</p> + +<p>This the worthy man said to calm Nellie's fears, though in his own heart +there was real anxiety, and he was not long in placing the horses fast to +the big sled. But before he left he stopped to turn Midnight into the barn +floor, threw on her blanket, and left her quietly munching a liberal +supply of hay.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Larkins was not long in making her appearance, and did what she could +to bring comfort to Nellie's anxious heart. She also went with her back to +the Rectory to await her husband's return. How the time did drag by! At +every wild gust of wind Nellie started and trembled. At length, however, +the faint sound of bells was heard, and scarcely had the panting, +snow-flecked horses stopped at the door ere Nellie, bare-headed, and with +a shawl over her shoulders, appeared.</p> + +<p>"Father, father!" she cried, as she rushed forward, and peered into the +familiar face. "Are you safe?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearie. I am home again," came the feeble response.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank God!" she replied, throwing her arms around his neck, and +kissing him again and again. "What a night this has been--a horrible +nightmare!"</p> + +<p>"Come, lassie," demanded the doctor. "Away with you into the house. What +are you doing out here in such a storm? We'll look after your dad."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_16"></a>Chapter XVI</h1> + +<h2>For Sweet Love's Sake</h2> + + + +<p>All the next day the storm continued in its unabated fury. The roads were +completely blocked from fence to fence, and all sources of communication +in Glendow were cut off. Each house was a little world of its own, a +lighthouse in the midst of an ocean of snow where the long drifts piled +and curled like hungry foaming breakers.</p> + +<p>"This is the first holiday I've had for some time," chuckled good Doctor +Leeds as he leaned back comfortably in an easy-chair, and puffed away at +his pipe. "No one can come for me to-day, that's certain."</p> + +<p>Nellie, too, was glad, and as she watched the storm from the window a +feeling of relief came into her heart.</p> + +<p>"Dear storm," she said to herself. "How I love you to-day. You are a stern +protector, keeping out all prying eyes and malignant tongues. Mr. Dobbins +will not venture out while you are abroad, and so we will have peace a +little longer."</p> + +<p>Parson John passed a restless night, moaning much from the pain in his +shoulder. Towards morning, however, he passed into a comfortable sleep, +and did not wake until near noon. Nellie and the doctor had a long chat +together. He told her about the accident, and she related to him the +incident of the constable's visit to the Rectory.</p> + +<p>"The brute!" roared the doctor, when Nellie had finished. "Farrington's a +scoundrel! Why can't he leave decent people alone! He's always meddling +with someone. He's never happy unless he's persecuting people. Oh, I've +known him for years. And so he wants to have your father arrested, does +he, for saving the Stickles' cow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Nellie replied, "and I'm dreading the effect it will have upon my +father."</p> + +<p>"I see, I see," mused the doctor, while his eyes closed in a dreamy sort +of a way. "It will not be for his good, that's certain. But there's a way, +lassie, there's a way; don't forget that."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"I was just thinking what a villain Farrington is, and in what an +underhanded way he works. But he leaves a loophole every time. Let me tell +you something."</p> + +<p>Then the doctor leaned over, and what he said brought back the colour into +Nellie's face, and made her heart beat fast, and sent her about her +household duties with a new spirit.</p> + +<p>During the next night the storm cleared, and the morning sun transformed +the vast, white fields into a shining, sparkling glory. Nellie was early +astir, finished her household duties, cared for her father, who was +steadily improving, ere the doctor made his appearance.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to leave you in charge awhile this morning," she remarked as +the latter was eating his breakfast. "The day is bright and those large +drifts are so tempting, that I long for a snowshoe tramp. I have been in +the house so long that I must have a breath of fresh air."</p> + +<p>"Good!" replied the doctor. "It's just what you need. You had better make +the most of it, too, while I am here, for as soon as the roads are broken +I must be away. There are many patients to be looked after."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Doctor, very much. I know father will not mind my absence for +a short time," Nellie responded, as she hurried away to make ready for her +tramp.</p> + +<p>A pretty figure she presented as she stood a little later before the door +and bade the doctor good-bye. Snowshoeing she loved, and she had often +travelled for miles with Stephen in the clear bracing air. But to-day she +was not on pleasure bent, and her heart beat fast as she moved on her way. +No sign of life did she see as steadily she plodded forward over the +yielding snow. An hour later when she stood before Farrington's house and +laid aside her snowshoes, her face was flushed with a healthy glow caused +by the vigorous exercise. Her courage almost failed as she knocked upon +the door, and waited for it to be opened. It was Mrs. Farrington who came, +and great was her astonishment when she found who was there.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Nellie Westmore, I do declare!" she exclaimed. "Come right in, +dear, and lay your wraps aside. I'm so glad to see ye. But how in the +world did ye git here?"</p> + +<p>"I snowshoed all the way," was the quiet reply, "and I have come to see +Mr. Farrington. Is he in?"</p> + +<p>"Why certainly. He's in the store. I'll call 'im at once," and Mrs. +Farrington bustled off, wondering what in the world brought Nellie on such +a morning.</p> + +<p>As Farrington entered the house a few minutes later, Nellie rose to meet +him. She knew that now was the crucial moment, and a prayer went up from +her heart for guidance. She was surprised at her own calmness as she +looked into the face of the man who was causing her so much worry.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to see ye, Nellie," and Farrington stretched out a big fat +hand. "Set down, please."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied. "I prefer to stand. I do +not wish to keep you long. I've come to see you this morning on behalf of +my father."</p> + +<p>"Umph!" ejaculated Farrington, as he threw himself into an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"You know," continued Nellie, "my father met with a bad accident night +before last, and is now confined to his bed, and I have come to ask you +not to let Mr. Dobbins trouble him while he is in his weak condition.. I +feel quite sure you will do this."</p> + +<p>"Ye want me to spare 'im, do ye?" Farrington blurted out. "Spare the man +who has injured me above measure!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed! And in what way?" Nellie applied.</p> + +<p>"In what way? do ye ask. Why, didn't he outbid me in the Frenelle +homestead? Doesn't he refuse to buy goods at my store; an' then, to cap it +all, interfered with my hired man when he went after that cow? Hev I any +right to spare 'im? Tell me that."</p> + +<p>"You have the right of consideration for an old man. My father is aging +fast, and any trouble worries him so much. He doesn't know about what you +intend to do, and I hope I can prevail upon you to go no further."</p> + +<p>Nellie's voice was low and pathetic, and she made some impression upon +Farrington, for when she had finished he did not at once reply. He sat +looking at her, thinking how pretty she was.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," he at length remarked, "we've allus been very fond of ye. We've +known ye ever sense ye was a baby, an' ye seem like one of our own. Ye hev +a good eddication, an' bein' a lady ye are well fitted to adorn a good +man's home. Now, our Dick is a most promisin' feller, who thinks a sight +of ye, so if ye'd consent to look upon him favourably, it ud please us all +mighty well. Besides----"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington!" interrupted Nellie, "what do you mean? What do I +understand you to say? Do you----"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, my dear," remonstrated Farrington. "It's jist as well fer +ye to consider this reasonable proposition fust as last. Yer dad's gittin' +old now, so he can't last much longer; an' ye'll hev a home."</p> + +<p>"An' jist think, Nellie dear," spoke up Mrs. Farrington, "what an +advantage it'll be to ye. Richard'll inherit the hull of our property some +day. He will be a gentleman, an' the son of a gentleman, too--of a good +old fambly. It'll be a very gratifyin' thing, too, fer ye to know that +Richard's father was a Councillor of Glendow. So now, dear, give up that +uncouth Frenelle boy, an' take on with our son Richard."</p> + +<p>Nellie's cheeks were flushed a deep crimson now, and her eyes were +flashing with an angry light. Her heart was filled with disgust at these +cool, self-satisfied schemers. Had they been less confident of their own +importance they would have realized that they were treading on dangerous +ground. They could not comprehend that back of Nellie's quiet, reserved +demeanour there was a moral courage which would rise to any height of +self-sacrifice at the call of duty, or in defence of those she loved. They +had known her from childhood, and to natures such as theirs her gentleness +and retiring disposition were interpreted as weakness or lack of proper +spirit. To be suddenly awakened from such an idea was startling in the +extreme.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," Nellie replied, holding herself in check with a mighty +effort, "I am very much astonished at the words I have just heard. I came +here to talk to you as a lady would talk to a gentleman. But great is my +surprise to be insulted to my face. You have no right to speak to me as +you have done this morning, or to take such liberties as regards Stephen +Frenelle. He is a real gentleman's son, and has the true instincts of a +gentleman. We were children together, and I do not wish you to speak of +him or any friend of mine in a slighting manner. As to your remarks in +reference to your son, they are so unworthy of a father and mother that +they arouse in me the feelings of deepest pity for you. I blush to think +that you should ever suggest such a thing, and am surprised that your +better nature does not assert itself, and cause you to cover your heads in +shame for having uttered such words."</p> + +<p>Nellie spoke rapidly with her eyes fixed full upon Farrington's face. The +latter shifted uneasily at this torrent of words, and occasionally glanced +at his wife, who was sitting near with open-mouthed wonder.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me!" Mrs. Farrington replied. "I allus thought ye was sich +a nice, modest little thing, an' to think that ye should go on like this. +What would yer dear mother think if she was livin'?"</p> + +<p>"You are a mother, Mrs. Farrington," Nellie responded, "and what would you +think if anyone made such a proposition to Eudora as you have made to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a different question."</p> + +<p>"And in what way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eudora will hev money, an' will not be left penniless, while you an' +yer father are jist dependin' upon the parish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it only too well," Nellie bitterly answered. "We are little +more than paupers, trusting to the voluntary offerings of the people for +our support. But then, this has little to do with what I came here for. We +have wandered from the subject. I came simply to speak on behalf of my +father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that matter's settled now once and fer all," Farrington replied in a +cool, matter-of-fact manner. "Ye've taken the bizness into yer own hands. +We've made ye a good offer, an' ye've refused pint blank, so we'll +consider this little affair atween us settled. Sam Dobbins is in the store +waitin' fer me, so I shall tell 'im to go ahead an' serve the summons."</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute," Nellie demanded, as Farrington rose to his feet, +stretched himself, and started leisurely towards the door.</p> + +<p>"There's something you evidently have not considered which might change +matters a little. I came here this morning trusting to get your consent to +leave my father alone without any unnecessary trouble. I appealed to your +manhood, but in vain. Now, there is only one course open to me, which I +will be obliged to take."</p> + +<p>"Hey, what's this?" and Farrington's brow knitted in perplexity. "I don't +understand you."</p> + +<p>"No, certainly you don't, but you will presently. I would like to ask who +it was you sent out after the Stickles' cow?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Pete, of course; my hired man. He allus does that work fer me, an' +has taken dozens of 'em at various times."</p> + +<p>"Yes, so I have heard," and Nellie's voice was charged with a warning +note. "But were you not afraid of the risk you were running, Mr. +Farrington?"</p> + +<p>"Risk? what risk? I never had any trouble. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"But is Pete a constable?"</p> + +<p>"A constable, be blowed! What are ye drivin' at?"</p> + +<p>"Did he have a warrant from a magistrate to go to the Stickles' place, +open the door, enter the barn, and try to take away that cow?"</p> + +<p>"N-no, certainly not. But he never had one afore, an' everything was all +right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was all right as far as you were concerned, because no one +interfered, and the people were always too poor to make a fuss. But do you +know that you have laid yourself open to a grave offence? In the eyes of +the law you tried to steal that cow from the Stickles."</p> + +<p>"Girl! Girl! What do ye mean by talkin' this way?" and Farrington bounded +from his chair in a rage. "Explain to me at once what ye mean by sich +words!"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to explain, Mr. Farrington. Without a warrant, or +any legal authority, you sent your servant to break into a private barn, +and lead away a cow belonging to Mr. Stickles. Because my father +interfered you wish to have him arrested. I hope you see the point."</p> + +<p>Farrington was certainly a study just then. His eyes glowered, and his +face was inflamed with rage. He was in a trap and he knew it.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll pay fer this!" he cried, stamping upon the floor, in anger. "Ye'll--Ye'll----!"</p> + +<p>"Very well," Nellie calmly replied. "I've simply told you your position, +so now if you wish to go ahead, do so. You will know what to expect. +Perhaps I have been a better friend to you than you now imagine. Remember, +we have friends, who know a thing or two, and besides, if you are not +careful, something may go wrong on election day."</p> + +<p>"Who told you this, girl?" Farrington demanded. "Who put ye up to this +bizness?"</p> + +<p>"That's my own affair. I have warned you, so go ahead if you care to. I +shall say no more."</p> + +<p>With that she turned and walked quietly out of the house, put on her +snowshoes, and started on her homeward way. But the trying ordeal through +which she had passed told upon her. She trembled violently, and a great +weakness came over her. She felt that she would sink down upon the snow. +How could she continue? She looked all around, but no sign of life could +she behold; no one to aid her. What was she to do? She thought of her +father. Was he waiting for her, perhaps wondering where she was? With a +great effort she moved slowly forward, and presently found her strength +returning. On and on she plodded. Never had the snowshoes seemed so heavy, +or the way so long, and right glad was she to see at last the Rectory rise +up large and homelike before her. She reached the door, doffed the +snowshoes, entered the house, hurried to her own room, and throwing +herself upon her bed, wept as if her heart would break. She was tired--oh, +so tired. The tears brought a blessed relief to her surcharged feelings, +and when she at length sought her father's side a sunny smile illumined +her face, her step was firm, and little remained to show to a casual +observer the fierce struggle through which she had recently passed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_17"></a>Chapter XVII</h1> + +<h2>Hitting Back</h2> + + + +<p>Farrington said very little after Nellie's departure. He even surprised +his wife by his coolness, for instead of raging, swearing and stamping +around the house he walked quietly out into the store. Here he busied +himself with various matters, and talking at times to the few customers +who straggled in. When no one was present he sat on a high stool by the +window and gazed out over the snow. He was not thinking of money now, nor +how much his eggs and butter would bring. His mind was dwelling upon that +scene which had just taken place. He thought nothing of the brave defence +Nellie had made on behalf of her father, but only of his own wounded +feelings. At times his hands would clinch, and a half-audible curse escape +his lips. He would get even, oh, yes! But how? He saw the danger of going +any further in connection with the Stickles' cow affair. He must let that +drop. There were other ways, he was sure of that; the difficulty was to +know just what to do.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and a tall, lanky man entered, with a pair of skates +dangling over his left shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Miles!" exclaimed Farrington, hurrying around to shake hands with +him. "Haven't seen you fer an age. What's the news at Craig's Corner? Set +down, you look about tuckered out."</p> + +<p>"Should say I was," Miles drawled forth. "Never got into such a mess in +all my life. Skated down river Sunday evening and was caught in that +blasted snowstorm, and so am footing it back."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, that's hard luck," and Farrington sat down upon a soap-box. +"Anyway, I'm mighty glad to see ye. Hope things are goin' well at the +Corner. Much election talk, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Considerable. The air's been full of it lately, but I guess Sunday's +doings will give the folks a new subject for awhile. 'Twas certainly a +stunner!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what do ye mean, Miles? Nobody killed, I hope."</p> + +<p>"What! Haven't you heard anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, how could I with the storm blockin' the roads."</p> + +<p>"Sure. I never thought of that. But I supposed the parson let it out."</p> + +<p>"The parson!" and Farrington's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What in +the devil has he to do with it? He was brought home night afore last with +his shoulder out of jint"</p> + +<p>"Whew! You don't say so! Well, I declare!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me what ye mean, man," exclaimed Farrington, moving impatiently on +his seat. "Let's have the yarn."</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha! It was a corker! Just think of it; a funeral procession moving +slowly across the river, with Tim Fraser and Parson John racing by like a +whirlwind. I never saw anything like it, ha-ha!" and Miles leaning back +laughed loud and long at the recollection.</p> + +<p>Farrington was all attention now. A gleam of delight shone in his eyes, +and a faint sigh of relief escaped his lips. He controlled his eagerness, +however, for he wished to draw Miles out, and learn the whole story.</p> + +<p>"Ye don't mean to tell me," he remarked, "that the parson was racin' on +Sunday? Surely ye must be mistaken!"</p> + +<p>"I'm a liar then," calmly replied the other, gazing thoughtfully down at +his boots. "Yes, I'm a liar, and a fool! Why, didn't I see the whole thing +with my own eyes? And didn't all the people of Craig's Corner see it, too? +Ask them, they'll tell you the same."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt yer word, Miles, but it's so unusual. The parson never did +anything like that before, did he?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge. But he's mighty fond of a horse, and a fast one at +that, so I guess when Tim Fraser clipped up he couldn't resist the +temptation."</p> + +<p>"Did he explain about it? Did he tell how it happened?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't say much. I heard him tell some people that he never let the +devil get ahead of him, and he was bound he wouldn't do it that time."</p> + +<p>"Ho-ho! That's what he said? Nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"No, not that I heard. I came away after that, so nothing new has reached +me since, except what you tell me. Is he badly injured?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Guess he'll come out all right; he generally does."</p> + +<p>"He looked very well on Sunday. I'm really sorry he's met with this +accident."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe it had something to do with the race," suggested Farrington.</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a punishment fer what he did on Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Surely, you don't say--!" and Miles' mouth opened in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't say anything fer certain. I only know that sich things +sometimes do happen. A man who will race on the Sacred Day of Rest must +expect almost anything to happen. I've known of several sich cases. +Something generally does happen."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Well!"</p> + +<p>"Now honestly," continued Farrington very deliberately, "do ye think sich +a man is fit to be the minister of the Gospel in Glendow? Do ye think a +man who stands in church on Sunday an' reads them solemn words about +keepin' the Sabbath Day holy, an' then goes out on the ice an' engages in +a horse-race--do ye think sich a man is fit to teach our people? What an +example to set our children! When we tell 'em to remember the Day an' keep +it holy, they will say, 'Oh, the parson raced his horse on Sunday!' Oh, +yes, that's what they'll say. So you see what a condition the parish will +be in."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never thought of it that way," replied Miles, rising to his feet. +"But I must be off. I see the road is being broken."</p> + +<p>When the man had left the store Farrington stood for some time with his +hands clasped behind his back. He was in deep thought, and occasionally +his lips curled with a pleased smile. He then walked to the window, and +watched the men breaking the roads. He saw his own hired man, Pete Davis, +among the rest. Most of the able-bodied men of the neighbourhood were +there with shovels and teams. It was an inspiring sight to see team after +team in a long procession plowing their way forward among the high drifts. +Where the snow was light the leading horses would plunge through, blowing, +snorting, struggling, and at times almost hidden from view. In places +shovels had to be used and then cuttings, narrow and deep, were made +through the banks, just wide enough for one team to move at a time. For +hours the work had been carried on, and at length the last drift had been +conquered, and communication, from place to place once again opened up.</p> + +<p>Farrington watching the horses surging through was not thinking of the +fine appearance they presented. His mind was upon a far different matter. +He stood there, saw the teams swing around and finally disappear up the +road. It pleased him to see Miles riding upon one of the sleds. His ready +tongue was as good as a newspaper, and he would spread the story of the +Sunday race wherever he went.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Farrington was surprised at her husband's jocular manner when he was +called to dinner. He joked and laughed more than he had done in many a +day. Not a word did he say about Nellie's visit; in fact he seemed to have +forgotten all about it.</p> + +<p>"Ye must have done a good bizness this mornin', Si," his wife remarked. "I +haven't seen ye in sich fine spirits in a long time."</p> + +<p>"Haven't sold as much as usual, my dear," was the reply. "Didn't expect to +anyway, as the roads have jist been broken."</p> + +<p>"But ye seem very happy. Has anything remarkable occurred?"</p> + +<p>"Simply an idea, my dear, simply an idea."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, who'd a thought it. I didn't know that an idea 'ud make one +feel so good. Tell me about it, Si."</p> + +<p>"No, not now. I haven't time. Besides, I want to see how it'll work, an' +then I'll surprise ye."</p> + +<p>Farrington rose from the table, and going to the store went at once to the +small office. Here he spent some time writing, and at the end of a half +hour gave a chuckle of satisfaction, laid aside the pen, folded up the +paper and put it into his pocket. Next he went into the stable, and +ordered Pete to harness the horse and have it at the door in fifteen +minutes. At the end of that time he came from the house, wrapped in his +large fur coat, cap and mittens. Soon he was speeding over the road, +leaving Mrs. Farrington, Eudora and Dick watching him from the window, and +wondering what it all meant,</p> + +<p>Farrington was forth upon important business, and he knew exactly at what +houses to stop. There were the Fletchers, he was sure of them; the +Marshalls, their kinsmen; the Burtons, and several families who owed +fair-sized bills at the store, and would be unable to pay for some time.</p> + +<p>The sun was dipping big and red far westward when Farrington turned his +horse's head homeward. He was well pleased with his afternoon's work. No +one had refused to sign the petition he carried, and over twenty names had +been scrawled upon the paper.</p> + +<p>As he moved along his eyes rested upon a little cottage away to the right, +nestling near a grove of large maple trees. Old Henry Burchill, the +wood-chopper, lived there. Farrington's brows knitted as he thought of +him. Would he sign the paper? He knew that Henry was once opposed to the +parson for introducing certain things into the church. But then that was +long ago, and he wondered how the old man felt now. Anyway there was that +unpaid bill at the store. It would have some weight, and it was no harm to +try.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill was at home, and was surprised to see the storekeeper enter +the house. She was a quiet, reserved woman, who mingled little with her +neighbours. The lines of care upon her face, the bent back and the +toil-worn hands told their own tale of a long, hard battle for life's bare +necessities. Her heart beat fast as she shook hands with her visitor, for +she, too, thought of that bill at the store, which she and her husband had +been bravely striving to pay.</p> + +<p>"Is yer husband at home, Mrs. Burchill?" asked Farrington, seating himself +on a splint-bottomed chair.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He's in the woods chopping for Stephen. I'm afraid he won't be +home to-night."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! that's too bad," and Farrington brought forth the paper from his +pocket. "I wanted 'im to do a little favour fer me--simply to put his name +to this pertition. But, if you'll do it, 'twill be jist the same," and he +handed over the paper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill put on her glasses, and slowly and carefully read the words +written there. Farrington watched her closely and noted the colour +mounting to her faded cheeks, and the look of reproach in her eyes as she +at length turned them upon his face.</p> + +<p>"And you expect me to put my name to this?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"An' why not?" smiled Farrington. "Have you read what the paper sez?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, every word."</p> + +<p>"An' don't ye think there's a reason why ye should sign it? Don't ye think +the Bishop should know what kind of a parson we have?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," and Mrs. Burchill spoke very deliberately, "if the Angel +Gabriel himself came with that paper for me to sign I should refuse. I'm +an old woman now, and why should I commit such a sin in my declining +years?"</p> + +<p>"Sin! what sin would ye commit in simply signin' that paper?" Farrington +demanded.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill did not reply at once, but placing her hand upon a Bible +lying by her side she reverently opened it.</p> + +<p>"Listen to these words," she said. "They are not mine, remember, but the +Lord's. 'Touch not mine anointed,' He says, 'and do my prophets no harm.' +Now Parson John is one of the Lord's anointed, set apart for a sacred +work, and it's a dangerous thing to strive against Him."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, woman! That's all rubbish! Them things happened in olden days. +Besides, we have a just grievance. He is interferin' too much with the +affairs of others. He takes too much upon himself. Then, what about that +race on Sunday? Do ye think we should stand that?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, it's the same old story. Don't you remember how people said the +very same thing about Moses and Aaron, long, long ago. They said that +those two men were taking too much upon them, and a rebellion ensued. And +what was the result? The Lord punished the people, the earth opened and +swallowed them up. I often read that story to Henry in the evenings, and +it makes us feel very serious. Oh, yes, it's a dangerous thing to +interfere with the Lord's anointed. Something's bound to happen to the +ones who do it."</p> + +<p>Farrington could stand this no longer. He had met with such success during +the afternoon that to hear this rebuke from Mrs. Burchill was most +annoying.</p> + +<p>"Woman!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I don't want to hear all this. +I didn't come here to be preached to about sich old-fashioned trash as the +'Lord's anointed!' I came here to git ye to sign that paper, an' not to be +preached to! Will ye sign it or will ye not?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shall not sign it!" was the quiet response.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, that's all I want to know. But remember, Mrs. Burchill, +there's a little unpaid account on my books against your husband. Please +tell 'im to call and settle it at once. If not--oh, well you know the +result," and Farrington looked significantly around the room. "So, +good-day. I must be off."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burchill stood at the window and watched Farrington drive away. Then +a sigh escaped her lips. She went back to the chair where she had been +sitting, and kneeling down buried her face in her hands. For some time she +remained in prayer, but her earnest pleadings were not for herself or her +husband, but for the old grey-headed man--the Venerable Rector of Glendow.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_18"></a>Chapter XVIII</h1> + +<h2>Wash-Tub Philosophy</h2> + + + +<p>"I've been up to me neck in soap-suds ever sense daybreak, an' I ain't +done yit."</p> + +<p>So declared Mrs. Stickles as she wiped her hands upon her apron and +offered a chair to her visitor, Betsy McKrigger.</p> + +<p>"I'm rale glad to see ye, nevertheless," she continued, "fer it's been a +month of Sundays sense I sot eyes on ye last. How've ye been? An' yer old +man, is he well?"</p> + +<p>"Only fairly," replied Mrs. McKrigger, laying aside her bonnet and shawl, +and taking the proffered chair. "Abraham went to the mill this mornin' an' +I came this fer with 'im. We were clean out of flour, an', although the +roads are bad, there was no help fer it, so he had to go, poorly as he is. +He'll stop fer me on his way back."</p> + +<p>"An' what's wrong with 'im?" asked Mrs. Stickles, going back to her +washing.</p> + +<p>"The doctor thinks he's got delapitation of the heart. Abraham was never +very strong there, and suffers most after eatin'. I'm gittin' very nervous +about 'im."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work. "I wouldn't worry +about that. Mebbe he eats too much. Men's hearts an' stummicks are purty +closely kernected, an' what affects the one affects t'other. It's +indisgestion the man's got-that's what 'tis. It's a wonder to me they +don't all hev it."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe yer right, Mrs. Stickles. 'Abraham is certainly a big eater. But it +wasn't eatin' which gave 'im the delapitation yesterday."</p> + +<p>"What was it, then?"</p> + +<p>"It was Si Farrington who gave it to 'im. That's who it was."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" ejaculated Mrs. Stickles. "Surely a cur like that wouldn't affect +anyone, would it? I'm jist waitin' to run agin Farrington meself, an' then +we'll see who'll hev palputation of the heart. It'll not be me, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"It's very true what ye say," replied Mrs. McKrigger, bringing forth her +knitting, "but when ye owe the man a bill at the store, an' heven't the +money to pay, it makes a big difference."</p> + +<p>"So he's been at you, has he? I s'pose he's been tryin' to git yer cow, +horse or farm. He tried it here, but Parson John, bless his soul, soon +stopped that."</p> + +<p>"No, not like that. He only hinted what he'd do if Abraham didn't sign the +pertition."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see. He's goin' to run fer councillor, an' wanted yer husband to +sign his denomination paper, did he?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, not that. It's about the parson."</p> + +<p>"What! Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's about 'im, poor man."</p> + +<p>"Land sakes! What's up now?" and Mrs. Stickles paused in her work and +stood with arms akimbo.</p> + +<p>"Farrington thinks the parson's too old fer the work, an' that we should +hev a young man with snap an' vim, like Mr. Sparks, of Leedsville. He +believes the young people need to be stirred up; that they're gittin' +tired of the old humdrum way, an' that the parish is goin' to the dogs. +But that wasn't all. He thinks the parson isn't a fit man to be here after +that disgraceful racin' scene on the river last Sunday. He sez it's an +awful example to the young. So he's gittin' up the pertition to send to +the Bishop."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles had left the wash-tub now and was standing before her +visitor. Anger was expressed in her every movement.</p> + +<p>"An' do ye tell me!" she demanded, "that yer husband signed that paper?"</p> + +<p>"W-what else was there to do?" and Mrs. McKrigger dropped her knitting and +shrank back from the irate form before her. "How could he help it?"</p> + +<p>"Betsy McKrigger, I never thought ye'd come to this. Help it! Why didn't +yer husband help Farrington out of the door with the toe of his boot?"</p> + +<p>"But think of that unpaid bill, Mrs. Stickles."</p> + +<p>"Unpaid bill, be fiddlesticks! Would ye turn aginst yer best earthly +friend fer the sake of a bill?"</p> + +<p>"What else could we do?"</p> + +<p>"Do? Let yer cow or anything else go! What do sich things amount to when +yer honour's at stake. Dear me, dear me! has it come to this?"</p> + +<p>"Ye needn't make sich a fuss about the matter," and Mrs. McKrigger +bristled up a bit. "It's a purty serious thing when yer whole livin's in +the fryin'-pan."</p> + +<p>"Livin', livin'! Where does yer livin' come from anyway, Mrs. McKrigger? +Doesn't the Lord send it? I reckon He'll look after us. Didn't He tend to +old 'Lijah when he done his duty. Didn't the ravens feed 'im? An' what +about that widee of Jerrypath? Didn't her meal and ile last when she done +what was right? Tell me that!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, that may be as ye say. I ain't botherin' about old 'Lijah an' +that widow. If them people lived to-day they'd jine forces an' start the +biggest flour an' ile company the world has ever seen. I wish 'Lijah 'ud +come our way some day, fer me an' Abraham hev often scraped the bottom of +the flour barrel an' poured out the last drop of ile, not knowin' where +any more was comin' from."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, woman!" remonstrated Mrs. Stickles. "It's wrong fer ye to talk +that way. Hev ye ever really wanted? Didn't the flour and the ile come +somehow? Whenever we're scrapin' the bottom of the barrel it seems that +the Lord allus hears us, and doesn't let us want. I guess, if we stan' by +the Lord, He'll stan' by us. I'm mighty sorry yer man signed that +pertition aginst that man of God. It don't seem right nohow."</p> + +<p>"I'm not worryin' about that, Mrs. Stickles. Farrington has considerable +right on his side. The parson is old. We do need a young man with snap an' +vim. The parson's sermints are too dry an' deep. Abraham sleeps right +through 'em, an' says it's impossible to keep awake."</p> + +<p>"Well, I declare!" and Mrs. Stickles held up her hands in amazement. "To +think that I should live to hear sich words in me own house. Ye say the +parson's too old. Ain't ye ashamed of them words? Too old! D'ye want some +new dapper little snob spoutin' from the pulpit who hasn't as much +knowledge in his hull body as Parson John has in his little finger? I know +there's many a thing the parson talks about that I can't understan', an' +so there is in the Bible. I often talk the matter over with John. 'John,' +sez I, 'Ye recollect when ye was makin' that wardrobe fer me out in the +shed two springs ago?'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' ye remember how the children used to watch ye an' wonder what ye was +makin'!'</p> + +<p>"'Sartinly,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' how they used to pick up the shavin's ye planed off, an' brung them +inter the house.'</p> + +<p>"He kalkerlated he did.</p> + +<p>"'Well then,' sez I, 'John, them children didn't understan' what ye was +makin', but they could pick up the shavin's an' make use of 'em. So when +Parson John is preachin' an' I can't altogether foller him, I kin pick up +somethin' here an' thar which I do understand, an' them are the shavin's +which I kin use, an' do use. Oh! John,' sez I, 'hasn't the parson been +droppin' shavin's fer over thirty years, an' not allus in the pulpit +either, an' haven't we ben helped 'cause we picked 'em up an' made 'em our +own?' John said I was right, an' he knows, dear soul."</p> + +<p>"That may be all very well fer you an' John," replied Mrs. McKrigger, "but +what about the young people, an' the older ones fer all that, who won't +pick up the shavin's? Farrington sez we want a poplar young man who kin +speak without any preparation, like Mr. Dale, the missionary who was here +last summer. Now, there was a man up to whom the young men could look, a +reglar soldier, who had been in the fight in Africy, had lived among +lions, tagers and niggers. He was a hero, an' if we could git a rale live +missionary like that, he'd make Glendow hum, an' the old church 'ud be +packed to the doors every Sunday. It's them missionaries who has the hard +time. Oh, they're wonderful people. Parson John's a good man, but he ain't +in the same line with them nohow. He's too commonplace, an' don't stir the +people up."</p> + +<p>For a while Mrs. Stickles did not reply. She wiped her hands on her apron, +and crossing the room took down a small pot, put in a little tea, filled +it with water, and set it on the back of the stove to draw. Next she +brought forth some large frosted doughnuts, and after she had poured a cup +of tea for Mrs. McKrigger and one for herself she sat down upon an old +splint-bottomed chair.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever tell ye the conversation I had with Mr. Dale, that missionary +from Africy?" she at length asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I never heerd it," came the reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's queer, an' it happened only last summer, too. Ye see, we all +went to the missionary meetin' in the church, an' Mr. Dale told us about +that furren land. Somehow I didn't take to the man, an' I liked 'im less +as he went on. All the time he was speakin' I noted how eagerly Parson +John listened. Often his buzum heaved-like, an' I thought I heerd 'im +sigh. But when the speaker 'gun to compare Africy with Canada and Glendow, +I got mad. 'Here the work is small,' sez he; 'thar it's mighty! Here ye +hev yer hundreds; thar we hev our thousands. Here things is easy; thar +hard.' As he talked on that way I looked at the parson an' saw a pained +expression on his dear face. I jist longed to jump to me feet, an' pint +out that old grey-headed man a sittin' thar, an' tell a few things I know. +But I got me chance later."</p> + +<p>"What! ye didn't say anything hard, I hope?" interrupted Mrs. McKrigger.</p> + +<p>"Only the plain truth; jist what he needed. Ye see, me an' John was axed +into the Rectory afterwards to meet the missionary an' hev a cup of tea. +Mr. Dale did most of the talkin', an' told us a hull lot more about his +experiences in Africy. But somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He had +little use fer Canada, an' said so, an' that was mor'n I could stan'.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Dale,' sez I, speakin' up, when his jaw stopped waggin' fer an +instant. 'Would ye be willin' to leave yer present field of labour?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' sez he, lookin' at me surprised-like.'</p> + +<p>"'An' why not,' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'Oh the work is so inspirin' out thar,' sez he. 'I'd about die in a--a--' +(I think he was goin' to say a country parish like this) but he said +'settled field whar the work is so quiet, ye know.'</p> + +<p>"'An' ye wouldn't be willin' to give up Africy,' sez I, 'fer a poor parish +like Glendow, if thar was no clergyman here?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' sez he, in a hesitatin' way, fer he didn't seem to know what I was +a drivin' at.</p> + +<p>"'Exactly so, Mr. Dale,' sez I. 'It takes a heap of spunk, I reckon, to go +to them furren fields, but I kalkerlate it often takes jist as much to +stay to hum, feed pigs, hens, an' look after a hull batch of children. +I've hearn men preach about sacryfice in big churches, but I generally +find that, when a poor country parish gits vacant, they don't seem +inclined to give up their rich churches an' step into a humbler place. Yet +sometimes I've heerd of sich men goin' to furren fields. An' why is that, +Mr. Dale?'</p> + +<p>"'That they might do more work fer the Master,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'I think yer wrong thar,' sez I. 'Now, look here. To enter a country +parish is to be almost unknown, an' people say, 'Oh, he's only a country +parson,' an' they stick up their ugly noses, which they think are +acristocat. But let a man go to a furren field, an', my lands! they +blubber over 'im an' make a great fuss. If he combs the head of a little +nigger brat out thar in Africy--though no doubt he needs it--why the +missionary magazines an' papers are full of it. If he pulls the tooth of +an old Injun chief who has a dozen wives taggin' around after 'im, the +people hold up thar hands in wonder, an' call 'im a hero. But let a man +stay at hum in a parish like Glendow, an' no one hears of his doin's, +cause they don't want to.'"</p> + +<p>"My! ye didn't say all that?" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, "an' to a rale +live missionary, too."</p> + +<p>"Them's the exact words I said, an' them ain't all," rattled on Mrs. +Stickles. "I had me tongue on 'im then, an' it did me good to see his +face. He looked once towards the door as if he thought I'd jump at 'im. +Oh, it was as good as a circus to see 'im shake," and she laughed at the +recollection of it.</p> + +<p>"'Remember,' sez I, 'I ain't got nuthin' agin furren missions, fer they do +a heap of good. But I would like to see things levelled up a bit. If I git +down on me knees an' scrub the floor, it's nuthin' thought of. But if a +missionary does it, a great fuss is made. When Parson John is dug out of +snow-banks every week, when his sleigh gits upsot an' throws 'im into the +ditch, no one outside the parish ever hears of it. But let sich things +happen to a furren missionary, an', my lands! it's wonderful.'</p> + +<p>"I could see all the time that Mr. Dale was gittin' excited an' excititer.</p> + +<p>"'Woman,' sez he in a lofty kind of way, which reminded me of a young +rooster tryin' to crow, 'do ye realize what yer talkin' about? Do ye know +yer treadin' on delicate ground?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez I, 'when I tread on a man's toes, it's purty delicate ground.'</p> + +<p>"'I don't mean that,' sez he. 'But do ye know that <i>I'm</i> a +missionary, an' do ye know what it means to be away from hum seven years, +away in a furren land?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez I. 'It means a holiday of a hull year at the end, with yer +salary goin' on, an' yer travellin' expenses paid. D'ye think, Mr. Dale, +that the parson here ever gits sich a holiday? Y'bet yer life he doesn't. +He's been here workin' like a slave fer over thirty years now, an' in all +that time <i>he</i> never had a holiday.'</p> + +<p>"At that the parson himself speaks up. 'I think yer wrong thar, Mrs. +Stickles,' sez he. 'I had two hull weeks once, fer which I've allus been +most thankful.'</p> + +<p>"'An what are two weeks?' sez I. 'An' didn't ye pay yer own travellin' +expenses?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' sez he, 'I did.'</p> + +<p>"'Thar now,' sez I to Mr. Dale. 'What d'ye think of that? Two weeks in +over thirty years of hard work!' But that reminds me of somethin' else--an', sez I, 'Who pays yer salary, Mr. Dale? D'ye mind tellin' me that?' + +"'The Mission Board' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'An' do ye git it reglar?' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'Every month,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'I thought so,' sez I. 'An' d'ye think the parson here gits his every +month?'</p> + +<p>"'I don't know,' sez he. 'But s'pose he does.'</p> + +<p>"'Not by a long chalk,' sez I. 'He has to wait months an' months fer it, +an' sometimes he doesn't git it at all, an' then has to take hay an' oats, +or do without. I know that to be a fact. Old skinflint Reeker over thar +owed two dollars one year to the church, an' he wondered how in the world +he was to git out of payin' it. Durin' the summer a Sunday-school picnic +was held on his place back in his grove, an' fer one of the games the +parson cut down four little beeches about as big as canes. Thar was +thousands of 'em growin' around, an' wasn't worth a postage-stamp. But old +Reeker saw 'im cut 'em, an' the next day he went to the parson an' told +'im how vallable the beeches was--his fancy trees or somethin' like that--an' charged 'im fifty cents a piece, the amount he owed to the church. +"Wasn't that so, Parson?" sez I, turnin' to 'im.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes,' sez he. 'But it ain't worth speakin' about now. I think we +had better have our cup of tea, an' talk no more about the subject.'"</p> + +<p>"Dear, good man," and Mrs. Stickles wiped her eyes with the corner of her +apron. "He was kinder upsot at what I said. But not so, Nellie. Her sweet +face jist beamed on me, an' when I went out into the kitchen to help her +she put her arms about me old neck, an' gave me a good big thumpin' kiss. +That's what she did."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Mrs. Stickles ended, ere bells were heard outside.</p> + +<p>"Why, I declare, if Abraham ain't back already!" exclaimed Mrs. McKrigger, +rising to her feet and donning her hat and wraps. "He's made a quick trip. +I'm very grateful, indeed I am, fer the cup of tea an' the pleasant time +I've had. Ye must come to see me as soon as ye kin."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stickles stood for some time at the window watching the McKriggers +driving away. She was thinking deeply, and a plan was being evolved in her +mind which made her forget her washing and the various household duties. +At length she turned and entered the room where her husband and little +Ruth were lying.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, after she had related to him what Mrs. McKrigger had +told her about Farrington and the petition, "d'ye think you an' Ruthie +will mind if me an' Sammy go into the shore this afternoon with old +Queen?"</p> + +<p>"Why no, dear," was the reply. "But don't ye think the roads are too bad, +an' besides, what are ye thinkin' of?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind the roads, John. They're purty well smashed down by now, an' +Queen's very stidy. I've a plan, John, which comes right from me insides," +and leaning over she whispered it into his ear.</p> + +<p>"Land sakes, dear!" replied her husband. "D'ye think ye kin manage it? +Will they listen to ye? Ye're only a woman, remember, an' what kin a woman +do?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm only a woman, John, an' mebbe 'tain't a woman's place. But when +men are too scart an' heven't as much spunk as a chicken jist outer the +shell, what else is thar to do? Is thar no one in the hull parish to stan' +up fer the Lord's anointed? Tell me that. Didn't that beautiful Queen +Ester stan' before her crank of a husband, Hazen Hearus, an' plead fer the +lives of her people? An' didn't Jael do the Lord's will when she put old +Sirseree outer the way, tell me that? Now, I ain't a queen like Ester, an' +I hope I ain't a woman like Jael that 'ud drive a nail through a man's +head. I'm jist plain old Marthy Stickles, but mebbe I kin do somethin' fer +the Lord, even if I ain't purty or clever."</p> + +<p>An hour later an old, lean horse fastened to a homemade pung was wending +its way slowly along the road leading to the river. Holding the reins was +Sammy, a queer little figure, wrapped from head to foot, bravely +maintaining his precarious position on six inches of the end of the board +seat. Towering above him, broad-shouldered and ponderous, sat Mrs. +Stickles, the very embodiment of health and strength.</p> + +<p>"Sammy," said she, as the sled lurched along the rough road, "I don't like +this bizness. But when the Lord's work's to be did, somebody's got to set +his face like flint, as the Bible sez, an' do it. Don't ye ever fergit +that, Sammy. Don't ye ever disremember that yer ma told ye."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_19"></a>Chapter XIX</h1> + +<h2>The Sting</h2> + + + +<p>The buzz of gossip once more filled the air of Glendow. This last affray +between Parson John and Farrington and the part Nellie had taken gave +greater scope to the numerous busy tongues. Up and down the shore road and +throughout the back settlements the news travelled. It was discussed at +the store, the blacksmith shop, the mill, and in the homes at night, +wherever a few were gathered together. The Fletchers had never been idle +since the night of old Billy's death. They stirred up others by various +stories and conjectures, fashioned in their own suspicious minds. "Why," +they asked, "did not the parson explain about that money he paid down for +the Frenelle homestead? How was it that a poor country parson was able to +buy such a farm? They were further incensed by an incident which happened +several weeks after the auction. Tom Fletcher was determined that he would +question the parson some day, in the presence of others. He prided himself +upon his keenness of observation and shrewdness in detecting a guilty +manner in those whom he suspected of wrong-doing. The first opportunity he +seized when he met the parson at the blacksmith shop, waiting for his +horse to be shod.</p> + +<p>"Well, Parson, are ye goin' to sell the farm?" he asked in a sort of +careless manner.</p> + +<p>"What farm?" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Frenelle place."</p> + +<p>"No; it's not for sale."</p> + +<p>"Well, is that so? Money's tight these times, an' I thought mebbe ye'd he +glad to get rid of it."</p> + +<p>"No. I'm not anxious to do so."</p> + +<p>"But, isn't it a heap of money to be tied up in one place? Mebbe ye'd give +us a hint how ye manage to do it. It's as much as us poor farmers kin do +to live, let alone put four thousand in a place which we don't intend to +use!"</p> + +<p>Tom tipped a wink to several others in the shop, as much as to say, "Now, +I've cornered him. Watch for the fun." Parson John saw the wink, and drew +himself suddenly up. He realized that the man was drawing him out for some +purpose, and it was as well to check him first as last.</p> + +<p>"Tom, do you mind," he asked, "if I put one question to you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly not. Drive ahead."</p> + +<p>"It's concerning that Widow Tompkins' place. Perhaps you will tell us how +you got control of it? Such a thing doesn't happen every day."</p> + +<p>Across Tom's face spread an angry flush, while a half-suppressed laugh was +heard from the bystanders. All knew very well that Tom had cheated the +widow out of her property, though no one ever had the courage to mention +it to him before.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that question?" demanded Fletcher.</p> + +<p>"It's a simple one, though, is it not?" the parson quietly responded. "It +naturally makes us curious."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll not satisfy such d---- curiosity. I tend my own affairs, an' I +ax others to do the same."</p> + +<p>"That's just the point, Tom," and the parson looked him square in the +eyes. "You wish to be let alone with your business, and so do I. You don't +wish to satisfy idle curiosity with your affairs, and neither do I. So we +are quits."</p> + +<p>This incident only caused the Fletchers to hate the parson more than ever. +Their greatest ally was Farrington. He was a man of considerable means, +and to have his support meant much. Never before was he known to be so +liberal to the people who came to his store. Often he invited them into +his house to sup with him, and then the grievances and election matters +were thrashed out. Occasionally when a farmer came to make purchases, +Farrington would see that a present was bestowed in the form of a piece of +calico for the wife, or some candy for the children. This was done +especially when Farrington was not sure of his man. He was playing his +part, not only stirring up these men against the man of God, but also +ingratiating himself into their good wishes against the day of the +election. When Farrington entered the field as a candidate for the County +Council, he knew he would have a hard struggle against his opponent, +Philip Gadsby, who was a man much respected, and had occupied the position +of councillor with considerable credit for two terms. The storekeeper had +been hard at work for some time with no visible success, for the +Farrington family with their high-flown ideas were much disliked by the +quiet, humble-minded folk of Glendow. The idea, therefore, of him being +Ifteir representative was at first abhorrent to most of the people. But +this new ruse of Farrington's was proving most successful. The Fletchers +drew with them all the loud-talking and undesirable element of Glendow. +This Farrington well knew, and by espousing their cause he was greatly +strengthening his own. The election day was only a few weeks off, so +Farrington and his party had no time to lose.</p> + +<p>During all this buzz of gossip, Parson John, the man most vitally +concerned, was perfectly oblivious of the disturbance. Of a most +unsuspecting nature, and with rot a particle of guile in his honest heart, +he could not imagine anyone harming him by word or deed. Happy in his +work, happy in the midst of his flock, and with Ms pleasant little home +guarded by his bright housekeeper, he had no thought of trouble. To his +eyes the sky was clear. His humble daily tasks brought him comfort through +the day, and sweet, undisturbed rest by night.</p> + +<p>But with Nellie it was different. She heard what her father did not. +Fragments of gossip drifted to her ears, which paled her cheek and set her +heart beating fast. Occasionally Dan bore her news he had picked up at the +store, or from the boys of the neighbourhood, who were not slow in talking +of the things they had heard from their elders. Nellie longed to tell her +father, that he might he able to answer some of the charges which were +made. Several times had she determined to do so. But when she had looked +upon his calm face, noted his white hair, and gazed into his clear, +unsuspecting eyes, her resolution always took wings and disappeared. Then +she would surprise her father by twining her arms about his neck and +giving him a loving kiss.</p> + +<p>Two weeks had now passed since the accident, and Parson John was rapidly +improving. Two Sundays had he missed from church, something which had +happened but once before in his long ministry in the parish. Winter was +passing, and signs of spring were beginning to be seen and felt. The snow +was steadily disappearing from the hills, and the fresh, balmy air drifted +gently in from the south with its exhilarating influence.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday night, and Parson John was looking forward to the morrow, +when he could take his accustomed place at the parish church. He and +Nellie were sitting quietly in the little room, when Mr. Larkins entered +with the mail. The postman had met with an accident on the icy road, and +was several hours behind time. Usually Dan went to the office, but on this +occasion Mr. Larkins was down to the store, and had brought along the mail +for both families.</p> + +<p>"Letters for us!" Nellie exclaimed as Mr. Larkins entered. "Oh, how good +of you to bring them!"</p> + +<p>"Stay, stay," insisted the parson, as the worthy neighbour was about to +retire and leave them to the enjoyment of their letters. "You have not had +a whiff with me for a long time, and here is a new church-warden waiting +to be broken in."</p> + +<p>"But, I shall interrupt you," Mr. Larkins replied.</p> + +<p>"No, no, not in the least."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I agree to remain for one smoke, if you will promise that you +will read your letters, and not mind me. I see a new magazine on the table +which looks very tempting."</p> + +<p>Ensconced in a large easy-chair, he was soon deeply immersed in the +fascinating pages, at the same time endeavouring to enjoy the long +"church-warden," which was not altogether to his taste. Silence reigned in +the room, broken only by the cutting of envelopes and the occasional +rattle of the letters.</p> + +<p>Mr. Larkins was startled by a sudden cry of astonishment, and looking +quickly up he saw the parson sitting erect in his chair, clutching a sheet +of paper in both hands, and staring at it in a dazed manner. Nellie at +once sprang to his side to ascertain the cause of the commotion.</p> + +<p>"Look! Look!" he cried, thrusting the paper into her hand. "It's from the +Bishop! Read it, quick, and tell me what it means! Am I losing my senses, +or is this only a dream, or a joke?"</p> + +<p>Although Nellie's face was pale as she sprang to her father's side, it +went white as death as she quickly scanned the missive, drinking in almost +intuitively every word and its meaning. Then, flinging it aside with an +impatient gesture, she placed her arms about her father's neck, and tried +to soothe him.</p> + +<p>"Father, father, dear, never mind," she pleaded. But her voice faltered, +and she simply clung to him like a tender vine to some sturdy oak.</p> + +<p>"Girl! girl!" demanded the parson, "what does it mean? Do you know +anything? Tell me, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Father, father," urged the maiden, "calm yourself. Don't get so excited."</p> + +<p>"But, do you know anything about this? Tell me at once!"</p> + +<p>"Yes---"</p> + +<p>"Yes, what? Don't stop. Go on," and the old man leaned forward so as not +to miss a single word.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, give me time," sobbed Nellie. "I will explain all. What will +Mr. Larking think?"</p> + +<p>"True, true. What will he think?" and the parson turned towards his +visitor.</p> + +<p>"You will pardon me, sir, for acting so strangely. But I am much upset. +There, please, read this. A letter from my Bishop, full of the most +remarkable utterances a man ever wrote. My people turned against me! My +people charging me with being a common thief! No, no! It cannot be true! +Read it--read it for yourself," and with a trembling hand he passed over +the letter.</p> + +<p>"My dear Westmore," so began the epistle. "What is the trouble between you +and your parishioners in Glendow? I have recently received a petition +signed by twenty of your people asking for your removal, on the following +grounds:</p> + +<p>"<i>First</i>. That you are too old to do the work; that many parts of the +parish are being neglected, and that a young man should take your place, +who will be able to hold the flock together.</p> + +<p>"<i>Second</i>. That you alone attended the deathbed of an old man, +William Fletcher by name, who was possessed of a considerable sum of +money, all in gold. The money, it is well known, was always kept in the +house in a strong, iron box. The night you attended him the house was +burned to the ground, but no trace of the money has since been found. Even +at the time you were suspected by some, as it was well known you were much +involved in some mining transactions out in British Columbia and badly in +need of money to carry on the work. But not until shortly after the fire, +when at a public auction you purchased a large homestead and paid down the +amount, four thousand dollars, in cash, did the whole parish suspect that +something was radically wrong.</p> + +<p>"<i>Third</i>. That on your way to attend a funeral at Craig's Corner on a +recent Sunday, you engaged in a horse-race with one, Tim Fraser, a most +notorious character.</p> + +<p>"Such in brief is the purport of the petition which now lies before me, +and I am asked not only to remove you, but to make a thorough +investigation concerning the whole affair. I am much grieved at this +matter, and cannot understand it at all. You have ever been looked upon as +a faithful priest in the Church of God, and I believe you will be able to +explain everything to the satisfaction of all. At first I thought it well +that you should write to me. On second consideration, however, I think it +better to make a visit to Glendow, and see if the matter cannot be quietly +settled. I do not wish this trouble to get abroad or into the newspapers. +I wish to have the people of the parish come before me, one by one, that I +may hear what they have to say, and thus be in a better position to form a +sound judgment. I have written the petitioners to this effect, and have +told them that I shall be in the vestry of the church next Thursday, +morning and afternoon, to hear what they have to say. I have also written +to your wardens--whose names, by the way, do not appear on the petition--stating the case, that they may give due notice throughout the parish."</p> + +<p>Silently Mr. Larkins returned the letter, not knowing what to say.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" questioned the parson, looking keenly into his +neighbour's face. "Am I only dreaming, or is it a joke?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, father, dear," Nellie replied, taking a seat near his side, and +tenderly clasping his hand, which was trembling with excitement. "It is +all real, ah, too real! The people have been saying these things."</p> + +<p>"What, girl! Do you mean to tell me that these things have been talked +about ever since the night of the fire?" demanded the parson.</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, some have been saying them."</p> + +<p>"And you knew about these stories, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Y--yes, some of them."</p> + +<p>"And you never said a word to me! Never gave me a hint of warning, but let +me remain in ignorance the whole of this time!"</p> + +<p>"We thought it was for the best, father. Don't get angry with me. I +suppose I should have told you, but I thought the gossip would soon +cease."</p> + +<p>"You thought so, did you! Girl, I didn't think you would deceive me--your +father, in his old age! Have all my friends turned against me? Yes, yes, +and even she, of my flesh and blood--the darling of my heart for whom I +would die! God help me!"</p> + +<p>"Father, father, dear! don't talk that way," pleaded Nellie. "You will +break my heart. You don't know what I have suffered. Day and night the +trouble has been with me. I loved you so much that I wished to spare you +the worry. I thought it was for the best, but now I see I should have told +you. You have friends, true and tried, who do not believe a word of these +charges."</p> + +<p>The parson who had been gazing straight before him, rested his eyes upon +his daughter weeping by his side. His face softened, and the old look +returned.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, darling," he said, placing his arm tenderly about her. "I +have wronged you and all my dear friends. But, oh, the blow is so sudden! +I hardly know what to think. What can I do?"</p> + +<p>For over an hour they sat there and discussed the matter. As Mr. Larkins +at length rose to go, he looked into Parson John's face so drawn and +white, and almost cursed the wretches who had brought such trouble upon +that hoary head.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_20"></a>Chapter XX</h1> + +<h2>The Overseer</h2> + + + +<p>The service at the parish church Sunday morning was largely attended. Word +had spread rapidly that the Bishop would arrive during the week, and it +was confidently expected that the parson would touch on the question from +the pulpit.</p> + +<p>"Guess we'll git something to-day," one man remarked to another, near the +church door.</p> + +<p>"Y'bet," was the brief response.</p> + +<p>"D'ye think the parson will say anything about old Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Mebbe he will, an' mebbe he won't."</p> + +<p>"But I think he will. The parson likes to hit from the pulpit when no one +kin hit back."</p> + +<p>"Is that what brought you to church to-day? You seldom darken the door."</p> + +<p>"Sure! What else should I come fer? I'm not like you, Bill Flanders, +wearin' out me shoes paddin' to church every Sunday. I kin be jist as good +a Christian an' stay at home. I kin read me Bible an' say me prayers +there."</p> + +<p>"I'm not denying that, Bill, but the question is, Do ye? I reckon ye never +open yer Bible or say yer prayers either fer that matter. If you were in +the habit of doin' so you never would hev signed that petition to the +Bishop."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not alone in that. There's Farrington, a church member an' a +communicant, who headed the list, an' if he----"</p> + +<p>"Hold, right there, Bill. Farrington never signed that paper."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did."</p> + +<p>"But, I say, he didn't. He promised to do so, but jist after he sent it +away he made a fuss an' said that he had fergotten to do it."</p> + +<p>"Ye don't say so!" and Bill's eyes opened wide with surprise. "But are ye +sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sartin. I had it from Tom Fletcher himself, who feels rather sore about +it. It is well known that Farrington wanted the parson removed on the plea +of old age, but didn't want that clause in about Billy's death. The +Fletchers insisted, however, an' in it went."</p> + +<p>"The devil! Well, it's queer, I do declare."</p> + +<p>Just then the bell rang out its last call, and they entered the church +with others.</p> + +<p>Parson John looked greyer than usual as he conducted the service and stood +at the lectern to read the Lessons. But his voice was as sweet and musical +as ever, though now a note of pathos could be detected. His step was slow +and feeble as he mounted the pulpit, and a yearning look came into his +face as he glanced over the rows of heads before him.</p> + +<p>"Remember my bonds," was the text he took this morning, and without a note +to guide him, he looked into the numerous faces, and delivered his brief +message. A breathless silence pervaded the sanctuary as he proceeded to +draw a picture of St. Paul, the great champion of the faith, in his old +age enduring affliction, and appealing to his flock to remember his bonds. +The arm of the parson still in the sling, and the knowledge the people had +of the reports circulated about him, added much to the intense +impressiveness of the scene. For about fifteen minutes he spoke in a +clear, steady voice. Then his right hand clutched the top of the pulpit, +while his voice sank and faltered. "Brethren," he said, straightening +himself up with an effort, "St. Paul had his bonds, which were hard for +him to bear; the bond of suffering, the bond of loneliness, and the bond +of old age. You, too, have bonds, and will have them. But how sweet to +know that your friends and loved ones will remember your bonds, will +understand your sufferings, peculiarities, and will sympathize with you, +and be considerate. I, too, have bonds: the bond of unfitness for my great +work, and the bond of old age. These two shackle and impede me in the +Master's cause. But I ask you to think not so much of these as of another +which binds me soul and body--it is the bond of love. I look into your +faces this morning, and think of the many years I have laboured among you +in evil report and good report. I have learned to love you, and now that +love is my greatest bond, for it enwraps my very heart. When parents see +their darling child turn against them, their love to him is the hardest +bond to bear, because they cannot sever it. They remember him as a babe in +arms, as a little, clinging, prattling child. They think of what they have +done and suffered for his sake and how the cord of love has been silently +woven through the years. My love to you is my greatest bond, and, though +some may grow cold, some may scoff, and some repudiate, never let the lips +of any say that your rector, your old grey-headed pastor, now in his +fourth and last watch, ever ceased in his love to his little flock."</p> + +<p>There was a diversity of opinion among the listeners to these pathetic +words, which was quite noticeable as the congregation filed out of the +church. The eyes of some were red, showing the intensity of their emotion, +while others shone with a scornful light.</p> + +<p>"The parson fairly upset me to-day!" blurted out one burly fellow. "I +heven't been so moved sense the day I laid me old mother to rest in the +graveyard over yonder."</p> + +<p>"Upset, did ye say?" replied another, turning suddenly upon him. "What was +there to upset ye in that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the way the parson spoke and looked."</p> + +<p>"Umph! He was only acting his part. He was trying to work upon our +feelings, that was all. Ah, he is a cute one, that. Did ye hear what he +said about the bond of love? Ha, ha! That's a good joke."</p> + +<p>There was one, however, who felt the words more deeply than all the +others. This was Nellie, who sat straight upright in her pew, and watched +her father's every movement. She did not shed a tear, but her hands were +firmly clasped in her lap and her face was as pale as death. As soon as +the service was over she hurried into the vestry, helped her father off +with his robes, and then supported his feeble steps back to the Rectory. +She made no reference to the sermon, but endeavoured to divert her +father's mind into a different channel. She set about preparing their +light midday repast, talked and chatted at the table, and exhibited none +of the heaviness which pressed upon her heart. Only after she had coaxed +her father to lie down, and knew that he had passed into a gentle sleep, +did she give way to her pent-up feelings. How her heart did ache as she +sat there alone in the room, and thought of her father standing in the +pulpit uttering those pathetic words.</p> + +<p>Thursday, the day of the investigation, dawned bright and clear. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air. It was one of those balmy spring days when +it is good to be out-of-doors drinking in freshness and strength.</p> + +<p>The Bishop had arrived the night before, and had taken up his abode at the +Rectory. About ten o'clock the following morning, he wended his way to the +church, there to await the people of Glendow. Some time elapsed before any +arrived, and not until the afternoon did most of them come. Tom Fletcher +was among the first, and at once he made his way into the vestry, and +confronted the Bishop.</p> + +<p>The latter was a small-sized man, clean shaven, and with his head adorned +with a mass of white, wavy hair. His face and massive forehead bore the +stamp of deep intellectuality. He was noted as a writer of no mean order, +having produced several works dealing with church questions, full of +valuable historic research. His every movement bespoke a man of great +activity and devotion in his high office. His eyes were keen and +searching, while his voice was sharp and piercing. "Sharp as a razor," +said several of his careless clergy. Merciless and scathing in reference +to all guile, sham and hypocrisy, he was also a man of intense feeling, +sympathetic, warm-hearted, and a friend well worth having.</p> + +<p>He was poring over certain church registers as Tom Fletcher entered, and, +glancing quickly up, noted at once the man standing before him. He rose to +his feet, reached out his hand to Fletcher and motioned him to a chair.</p> + +<p>"Fletcher is your name, you say--Tom Fletcher," and the Bishop ran his +eyes over several lists of names before him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's my name."</p> + +<p>"You signed the petition, I see."</p> + +<p>"Yes." + +"Well, then, you must know about these charges which are made against your +rector. Now, as regards the first. It states here that he is neglecting +certain parts of the parish. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>"I understand so."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hear he hasn't been to Hazel Greek an' Landsdown Corner fer over +two years."</p> + +<p>"Any other place?"</p> + +<p>"No, I guess them's the only two, but it seems to me to be a purty serious +matter fer sich places to be neglected so long."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see," and the Bishop looked keenly into Tom's face.</p> + +<p>"You're not a vestryman, Mr. Fletcher?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"No, never was one."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever attend an Easter Monday meeting?"</p> + +<p>"No, never had time."</p> + +<p>"Do you take a church paper?"</p> + +<p>"Should say not. Much as I kin do is to pay fer the newspaper."</p> + +<p>"But, of course, you read the Synod Journal, which is freely distributed. +It contains each year a report from this parish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I read it sometimes, but there isn't much to interest me in that."</p> + +<p>"But surely, Mr. Fletcher, you must have read there that Hazel Creek and +Landsdown Corner were cut off from Glendow over two years ago, and added +to the adjoining parish, and are now served by the rector of Tinsborough. +They are more accessible to him, and the change has been a good one."</p> + +<p>"What! Ye don't tell me!" and Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I +never knew that before. The parson never said a word about it."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever ask him? Or did you inquire why he never went to those +places?"</p> + +<p>"No. I thought----"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to know what you thought," and the Bishop turned sharply +upon him. "Explanations are not needed now. You have proven conclusively +that you know nothing about the church affairs in this parish, and care +less. According to these registers I find that you never come to Communion +and never contribute one cent to the support of the church. But we will +let that pass, and consider the next charge made here."</p> + +<p>"What, about Uncle Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You know the charge made, and as you signed the petition you must +have some substantial proof to bring forth."</p> + +<p>Tom twisted uneasily on the chair and twirled his hat in his hands. He was +mad at the way the Bishop had cornered him, and at what he had said. But +he was also afraid of this man who knew so much and seemed to read his +inmost thoughts. He began to dread the questions which he knew would come, +and longed to be out of the vestry. He was not feeling so sure of himself +and wished he had stayed away.</p> + +<p>"The second charge made here," continued the Bishop, "is of a most serious +nature. It is to the effect that your rector stole the gold from William +Fletcher the night the house was burned, and used some of it to buy a +farm. Is that what it means?"</p> + +<p>"I--I--don't know," Tom stammered, now on his guard, and not wishing to +commit himself.</p> + +<p>"But you should know," the Bishop insisted. "You signed the paper, and I +ask you what it means, then?"</p> + +<p>"The gold is gone, sir, an' the parson was the only one there with Uncle +Billy. Besides, where did he git all of that money?"</p> + +<p>"But that's no proof. I want facts, and I expect you to give me some."</p> + +<p>"That's all I know," was the surly response.</p> + +<p>"And upon the strength of that suspicion you signed this paper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you would swear that you know nothing definite?"</p> + +<p>"Y--yes--that's all I know."</p> + +<p>The Bishop remained silent for a short time, musing deeply.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he at length remarked, "that you have put yourself in a +very awkward position?"</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"You have virtually said that Mr. Westmore stole that gold. If you cannot +prove your statements you have laid yourself open to prosecution for +defamation of character. Your rector, if he wished, could bring in a +charge against you of a most serious nature."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that."</p> + +<p>"No, I know you didn't. You may go now, but remember the position in which +you have placed yourself."</p> + +<p>Tom waited to hear no more. He fairly sprang to the door, his face dark +and frightened. He spoke to no one, neither did he notice the sturdy form +of Mrs. Stickles standing there waiting to be admitted into the vestry.</p> + +<p>The Bishop looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Stickles entered. She +always proved the dominating factor wherever she went, and what her size +could not accomplish was well supplied by her marvellous tongue. The +Bishop winced as she seized his hand in a vise-like grip.</p> + +<p>"It's real glad I am to set me eyes on ye," she exclaimed. "I heven't seen +ye in a dog's age, an' I'm mighty pleased ye look so well. How did ye +leave the missus, bless her dear heart? My, I'm all het up, the church is +so hot," and she bounced down upon the chair Fletcher had recently +vacated.</p> + +<p>The Bishop's eyes twinkled, and his care-worn face brightened perceptibly. +His exalted position made him a lonely man. There was so much deference +paid to him. People as a rule were so reserved in his presence, and showed +a longing to be away. "Many people desire a high office," he had once +said, "but very few realize the responsibility and loneliness it entails. +So much is expected of a Bishop, and his slightest words and acts are +criticized. I often envy humble workmen, smoking and chatting together. +They have many things in common. They may say what they like, and much +heed is not given to their remarks."</p> + +<p>It was therefore most refreshing to have this big-hearted woman seated +before him acting and talking so naturally, without the least restraint, +the same as if she were in her own house.</p> + +<p>"You have come, I suppose," said the Bishop, "in connection with this +petition," and he pointed to the paper lying on the table.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the thing, is it?" asked Mrs. Stickles, as she leaned forward +to get a better view. "Be very keerful of it, Mr. Bishop. Don't scratch it +or bring it too close to the fire."</p> + +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" asked the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"What do I mean? Don't ye know that's the work of the devil, an' there's +enough brimstone in that paper to burn us up in a jiffy. It's soaked +through an' through, so I advise ye to handle it keerful."</p> + +<p>"So you think these charges in this petition are not true? What can you +say to the contrary, then?"</p> + +<p>"What kin I say to be contrary? I kin say a good deal, an', indeed, I hev +said a good deal. When I heered about that pertition my buzum jist swelled +like the tail of an old cat when a hull bunch of yelpin' curs git after +her. But I didn't sit down an' weep an' wring me hands. No, sir, not a bit +of it. Me an' Sammy went to them in authority, an' sez I to them +church-wardens, sez I, 'will ye let that old parson, the Lord's anointed, +be imposed upon by them villains?'"</p> + +<p>"'What kin we do?' sez they.</p> + +<p>"'Do!' sez I.' Do what the Lord intended ye to do, fight. Didn't the Holy +Apostle say, 'Quit ye like men, be strong?' 'Git up a pertition,' sez I, +'an' git every decent, honest man in Glendow to sign it, an' send it to +the Bishop. Tell 'im?' sez I,' that the parson isn't neglectin' his parish +an' that yez hev full confidence in 'im.'</p> + +<p>"'We don't like to do it,' sez they.</p> + +<p>"'Why not?' sez I.</p> + +<p>"'We don't like to stir up strife,' sez they. ''Tisn't good to hev a +disturbance in the church. We're men of peace.'</p> + +<p>"'Peace,' sez I, 'an' let the devil win? That's not the trouble. Yer +afeered, that's what's the matter. Yer too weak-kneed, an' hain't got as +much backbone as an angle worm.' That's what I said to 'em, right out +straight, too. Now kin ye tell me, Mr. Bishop, why the Lord made some +people men instead of makin' 'em chickens fer all the spunk they've got?"</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Stickles," replied the Bishop, who had been staring in +amazement at the torrent of words, "what has this to do with the question +before us?"</p> + +<p>"I'm comin' to that, sir, only I wanted to tell ye my persition. When I +found that them in authority wouldn't make the start, I concluded that the +Lord meant me to do the work. So me an' Sammy an' our old horse Queen +travelled up an' down the parish fer three solid days, with this result," +and, drawing a paper from a capacious pocket, she laid it on the table. +"Thar 'tis, read it fer yerself, an' jedge."</p> + +<p>The Bishop's eyes grew a little misty as he read the words written there, +and noted the long list of names testifying to the worthiness of the +rector of Glendow.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stickles," he at length remarked, and his voice was somewhat husky, +"the Lord will reward you for what you have done. While others have been +simply talking, you have been acting. Like that woman of old, you have +done what you could, and this deed of love, believe me, will be remembered +in the parish of Glendow for generations to come. You may go now; you have +done your part."</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_21"></a>Chapter XXI</h1> + +<h2>Decision</h2> + + + +<p>With his chair drawn tip close to the window, Parson John watched the +people as they moved along the road to and from the church. He recognized +them all, and knew them by their horses when some distance away. As +clothes betray a person when his face is not observable, so do horses and +sleighs on a country road. They seem to be vital parts of the owners, and +to separate them would be fatal. No one could imagine Mrs. Stickles seated +in a finely-upholstered sleigh and driving a high-mettled horse. She and +Sammy, the home-made pung and the old lean mare plodding onward, were +inseparably connected with the parish of Glendow. The parson's face +brightened as he saw this quaint conveyance shaking along the road. In +Mrs. Stickles he knew he would have one champion at least, though all the +others should turn against him. Team after team he watched, but none +turned aside into the Rectory gate to say a word to the old grey-headed +man, sitting before the window.</p> + +<p>The hours dragged slowly by, and still he sat there. Nellie went quietly +about her household duties, but a great weight kept pressing upon her +heart. Her father was so quiet, took no interest in his books, and did no +writing. Often she would stop and watch him as he sat there. He seemed to +be greyer than usual; his head was more bent, and his face wore a sad, +pained expression. "If he would only utter some word of complaint," +thought Nellie, "it would not be so hard. But to see that dumb, appealing +look is almost more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>Though very quiet, Parson John was fighting a hard, stern battle. His eyes +were often turned towards the road, but his thoughts were mostly upon +other things. Over his desk hung two pictures, and occasionally his gaze +rested upon these. One was that of a sweet-faced woman, who looked down +upon him with gentle, loving eyes-such eyes as Nellie inherited.</p> + +<p>"Ruth, Ruth," he murmured, "my darling wife. Thirty-five years since I +brought you here as a fair young bride. Thirty-five years! We knew not +then what lay before us. We knew not then how one must walk for years by +himself and at last tread the wine-press alone."</p> + +<p>His eyes drifted to the other picture hanging there--the Master kneeling +alone in Gethsemane. Long he looked upon that prostrate figure with the +upturned face. He thought of His agony in the Garden, the betrayal, +desertion and suffering. "I have trodden the winepress alone," he softly +whispered as into his face came a new light of peace and strength. Opening +a well-worn volume lying on the desk he read again that Garden scene, when +the Master knelt and fought His terrible battle. Forgotten for a brief +space were his own trials as he pored over that sacred page. How often had +he read that story, and meditated upon every word, but never before did he +realize the full significance of the scene. "Wonderful, wonderful," he +murmured again, as he reverently closed the Book. "Thank God--oh, thank +God for that life of suffering and sorrow! He knows our human needs. He +trod the winepress alone, and must I, His unworthy servant, expect to +escape? So, my Father, do with me what is best. 'Not my will, but Thine be +done.'"</p> + +<p>At this moment Nellie entered the room. She noticed the changed expression +upon her father's face, and, crossing to where he was, stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"Do you feel better, father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. My heart was very heavy a short time ago, but it is lighter +now. I seem to see my way more clearly. The darkness has passed, and a new +peace has come to me. Will you sing something for me, dearie?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, father. What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother's favorite hymn. The one she sang just before she left us."</p> + +<p>Taking her seat at the little harmonium, Nellie gently touched the keys, +and in a clear, sweet voice sang the old favourite hymn:</p> + +<blockquote> "The sands of Time are sinking,<br /> + The dawn of Heaven breaks,<br /> + The summer morn I've sighed for.<br /> + The fair, sweet morn awakes.<br /> + Dark, dark has been the midnight,<br /> + But dayspring is at hand,<br /> + And glory, glory dwelleth<br /> + In Emmanuel's land."</blockquote> + +<p>Softly she sang the whole hymn through, her father leaning back in his +chair with closed eyes, drinking in every word and sound.</p> + +<blockquote> "I're wrestled on towards Heaven,<br /> + 'Gainst storm and wind and tide;<br /> + Lord, grant thy weary traveller<br /> + To lean on Thee as guide."</blockquote> + +<p>"That's what I must do now, Nellie. 'Lean on Him as guide.' Oh, it gives +me such comfort. And He will guide right; we must never doubt that."</p> + +<p>When the Bishop had finished his investigation in the vestry, he sighed as +he closed his small grip and left the church. Slowly he walked up the road +lost in deep thought. There were numerous things which disturbed his mind. +He had listened to what the people had to say, but everything was so +vague. Yet there was some mystery, he believed, connected with the whole +matter. That missing gold, the Rector's need of money and then the +purchase of the farm were still shrouded in darkness. Thinking thus he +reached the Larkins' house where he had been invited to tea.</p> + +<p>"It will help Nellie to have the Bishop here," Mrs. Larkins had said to +her husband, "for she has enough care at the present time."</p> + +<p>Keenly she watched the Bishop's face as he came into the house, hoping to +obtain some clue to his thoughts. To her the trouble at the Rectory was as +her own, and she longed to know the outcome of the investigation. At first +she dreaded the thought of having the Bishop to tea. Had she not often +heard of his sharp, abrupt manner? Anxiously she scanned the tea-table, +with its spotless linen, with everything so neatly arranged, and wondered +what she had omitted. Her fears were soon dispelled, however, for the +Bishop made himself perfectly at home. It was a pleasure to him to sit at +the table with these two true, honest souls, of whom he had heard much +from Parson John. They were so natural, and made no effort to be what they +were not.</p> + +<p>"You must be tired, my Lord," said Mrs. Larkins, "after this trying day."</p> + +<p>"Not so much tired as puzzled," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"And did you get no light on the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. Look at all those notes I took--not worth the paper on which +they are written. Everything is hearsay--nothing definite. And yet there +is some mystery attached to the whole affair. I am sorely puzzled about +that missing gold and where the Rector obtained the money to buy that +farm."</p> + +<p>"And didn't he tell you, my Lord?" asked Mrs. Larkins, pausing in the act +of pouring the tea.</p> + +<p>"No, he will not tell me. He is as silent as the grave. When I pressed him +to speak and thus clear himself, he begged me with tears in his eyes not +to urge him. 'It's honest money,' he said, 'which purchased the farm, but +I can tell you no more now.'"</p> + +<p>"You have heard, my Lord, that he is involved in some mining transaction +out in British Columbia. It is now in litigation and the parson is +contributing all be possibly can."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I learned of that to-day, and it only tends to complicate matters. I +cannot believe that your Rector had anything to do with that gold. But oh, +if he would only explain. Are you sure that that box is not still among +the ashes and ruins of the old house?"</p> + +<p>"I am certain it is not there," Mr. Larkins replied. "We have searched the +place thoroughly, and even sifted the ashes, but all in vain. Not a trace +could we find of the box or the gold."</p> + +<p>The evening was somewhat advanced as the Bishop bade the Larkins +good-night and made his way over to the Rectory. He found Parson John +seated in a deep chair, gazing silently before him. Nellie was sitting +near reading, or trying to read. She greeted the Bishop with a bright +smile, drew up a chair for him to the pleasant fire, and took his hat and +coat.</p> + +<p>"Have I kept you up, Nellie?" he asked. "Your father must be tired."</p> + +<p>"No, no, my Lord," she replied. "It is not late yet. But you must be +tired."</p> + +<p>"A little, my dear. The day has been somewhat trying."</p> + +<p>From the time he had entered Parson John had kept his eyes fixed full upon +the Bishop's face with a mute, questioning look which spoke louder than +words. "What have you found out?" He seemed to be saying. "What stories +have they been telling about me? Who have been my foes and friends?"</p> + +<p>"The vestry was converted into quite a court-room to-day," said the +Bishop, reading the questioning look in the parson's face. "There were +certainly several lively scenes, especially when Mrs. Stickles made her +appearance."</p> + +<p>"You have reached a conclusion then, I suppose?" and Mr. Westmore leaned +eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet. I cannot give my decision now. I want to think it carefully +over, and shall notify you by letter."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, my Lord, for the trouble you have taken in the matter," and +the parson resumed his former position. "But I have been thinking deeply +since hearing these reports concerning me, and my mind is made up as to +the course I shall pursue."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, and in what way?" queried the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning I shall hand to you my resignation of this parish."</p> + +<p>The effect of these words was startling, and Nellie's face went very white +as she glanced quickly at her father.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean it?" inquired the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my Lord. I have not come to this decision without much thought, +prayer, and struggle. I have been too blind. I forgot how old I am, though +God knows my heart is as young as ever. It's only natural that the people +of Glendow should desire a change; a man who will infuse new life into the +work, and draw in the wandering and indifferent ones. May God forgive me +that I did not think of it before!"</p> + +<p>His head drooped low as he uttered these words, and the pathos of his +voice denoted the intensity of his feelings. It was impossible not to be +much moved at the figure of this venerable man, this veteran warrior of +his church, without one word of complaint, willing to relinquish all, to +give up the command to another, that the Master's work might be +strengthened. The Bishop was visibly affected, although he endeavoured to +conceal his emotion.</p> + +<p>"Westmore," he replied, "I always believed you to be a noble man of God, +though I never knew it as I do to-night. But where will you go if you +leave Glendow? How will you live?"</p> + +<p>"I am not worrying about that. He who has guided me all of these years; +He, who has given me strength for the battle, will not forsake me now in +my fourth and last watch when I am old and grey-headed. My brother and his +wife at Morristown have for years been urging us to pay them a long visit. +We will go to them, and stay there for a time. Perhaps the Master will +open to me some door in His vineyard that I may do a little more work ere +He take me hence. I have no means of my own, but the parish owes me six +months' salary, and no doubt the people will gladly pay it now to be rid +of me."</p> + +<p>"Why not sell that farm you purchased?" suggested the Bishop. "It should +bring a fair price, and the money would keep you for some time. I cannot +place you on the Superannuated list at present, but there may be a vacancy +soon and the money from the sale of the farm will keep you until then."</p> + +<p>"I can't sell the place, my Lord, it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"But you bought it; it is yours."</p> + +<p>"It's not mine to sell! It's not mine to sell!"</p> + +<p>The look upon the old man's face and the pathos of his words restrained +the Bishop from saying more on the subject.</p> + +<p>"And so you think you must go?" he remarked after a painful silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see nothing else to do."</p> + +<p>"But remember all have not turned against you. See this list," and the +Bishop handed over the petition Mrs. Stickles had given him.</p> + +<p>Eagerly the parson read the words, and scanned the names scrawled below.</p> + +<p>"And did Mrs. Stickles do this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She went up and down the parish for three days."</p> + +<p>"God bless the woman!" murmured Mr. Westmore. "What a comfort this is to +me; to know that all have not deserted me. I did not expect it. But it +will not change my mind. My eyes have been suddenly opened to my own +inability to do the work. Another will do much better. I've explained +everything to you, my Lord, that I can explain, and about that horse-race, +too. It is better for me to go."</p> + +<p>"Father," said Nellie, "let us go to Uncle Reuben's for a month or so. You +need a rest, and a vacation will do you good. Perhaps then you will see +things differently."</p> + +<p>"Capital idea!" exclaimed the Bishop. "It's just the thing! Go to your +brother's and stay there for a month or two."</p> + +<p>"But what about the parish? It will be left vacant the whole of that time. +If I resign a new Rector can take charge at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will arrange for that," responded the Bishop. "There is a young man +fresh from college who will be ordained shortly. I will send him here +during your absence. We will thus give the people a change, and then, no +doubt, they will be glad enough to have you back again."</p> + +<p>Parson John sat for some time in deep meditation, while Nellie watched him +with an anxious face. The clock in the room ticked loudly, and the fire +crackled in the hearth.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he assented at length with a deep sigh. "If you think it +best, my Lord, that this should be done I shall not oppose your wish. But +I am firmly convinced that it will be just the same as if I resigned. When +once the new man comes and begins the work, the people will not want their +old Rector back again. But, nevertheless, it will be all for the best. 'My +times are in His hands,' and I feel sure that ever 'underneath are the +Everlasting Arms.'"</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_22"></a>Chapter XXII</h1> + +<h2>In the Deep of the Heart</h2> + + + +<p>It did not take long for the news of Parson John's intended departure to +spread throughout Glendow.</p> + +<p>Tongues were once more loosened and numerous conjectures made.</p> + +<p>"Guess the Bishop found things pretty crooked," remarked one, "an' thinks +it high time for the parson to get out."</p> + +<p>"I've thought the same myself," replied another. "The parson's been +dabblin' too much in furren affairs. As I was tellin' my missus last +night, we never know what will happen next. When them as is leaders goes +astray, what kin be expected of the sheep? I've given a bag of pertaters +each year to support the church, but dang me if I do it any more!"</p> + +<p>But while some saw only the dark side and believed the parson to be +guilty, there were others who stood nobly by him in his time of trial. +Various were the calls made, some people driving for miles to say +good-bye, and to express their regrets at his departure.</p> + +<p>Among the number was Mrs. Stickles. She was the first to arrive, and, +bustling out of the old broken-down wagon, she seized the parson's hand in +a mighty grip as he met her at the gate.</p> + +<p>"God bless ye, sir!" she ejaculated. "I'm more'n delighted to see ye. I +was on me knees scrubbin' the kitchen floor when Patsy Garlick dropped in +an' told me the news. It so overcome me that I flopped right down an' +bawled like a calf."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! dear me!" replied the Rector. "What's wrong? did you receive bad +news? I hope nothing's the matter with Tony."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I don't mean 'im, sir, though I ain't heered from 'im fer months +now. He's so shet up thar in the woods that it's hard to hear. But I feel +he's all right, fer if he wasn't I'd soon know about it. No, it's not fer +'im I bawled, but fer you an' the darlin' lass. To think that ye are to +leave us so soon!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," and the parson placed his hand to his forehead. "Thank you +very much for your kindness, Mrs. Stickles, and for what you did +concerning that petition. So you have come all the way to bid us good-bye. +You must go into the house at once, and have a bite with us. I shall send +Dan to give the horse some hay."</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, sir. I didn't come expectin' to be taken in an' fed, but seein' +as it'll be some time afore I hev sich a privilege agin, I don't mind if I +do."</p> + +<p>Spring had now come in real earnest. The days were balmy, the sun poured +its bright rays upon hill and valley, and the snow disappeared as if by +magic. Thousands of streams and rivulets rushed racing down to the river, +sparkling and babbling, glad of their release from winter's stern grip. +The early birds had returned, filling the air with their sweet music, and +the trees, awakened from their long slumber, were putting forth their +green buds. Everything spoke of freshness and peace.</p> + +<p>But within the Rectory there was an unusual silence. A gloom pervaded the +house, which even Nellie's sunny presence could not dispel. Dan had +disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. He had departed in the +night so silently that even Nellie's ever-watchful ear did not hear his +footsteps upon the floor. They knew no reason why the lad should do such a +thing, and anxiously they discussed the matter over the breakfast-table. +Inquiries were made throughout the parish, which only served to set +tongues wagging more than ever.</p> + +<p>"I knew when the parson took him in," said one knowing person, "that +something 'ud happen. Ye can never tell about sich waifs. They generally +amount to nuthin' or worse."</p> + +<p>Nellie missed Dan very much. She had come to love the lad with all his +quaint ways and dreamy far-away look. He had always been so ready to do +anything for her, and often she found him watching her with wondering +eyes. In her heart she could not believe that the boy had run away because +he was tired of living at the Rectory. She felt sure there must be some +other reason, and often she puzzled her brain trying to solve the problem.</p> + +<p>As the days passed preparations were made for their departure. There was +much to do, for numerous things they must take with them. The parson took +but little interest in what was going on. He seemed to be living in +another world. So long had he lived at the Rectory that the building had +become almost a part of himself. How many sacred associations were +attached to each room! Here his children had been born; here he had +watched them grow, and from that front door three times had loving hands +borne forth three bodies,--two, oh, so young and tender--to their last +earthly resting-place in the little churchyard. In youth it is not so hard +to sever the bonds which unite us to a loved spot. They have not had time +fully to mature, and new associations are easily made and the first soon +forgotten. But in old age it is different. New connections are not easily +formed, and the mind lives so much in the past, with those whom we have +"loved long since and lost awhile."</p> + +<p>It was hard for Nellie to watch her father as the days sped by. From room +to room he wandered, standing for some time before a familiar object, now +a picture and again a piece of furniture. Old chords of memory were +awakened. They were simple, common household effects of little intrinsic +value. But to him they were fragrant with precious associations, like old +roses pressed between the pages of a book, recalling dear and far-off, +half-forgotten days.</p> + +<p>Nellie, too, felt keenly the thought of leaving the Rectory. It had been +her only home. Here had she been born, and here, too, had she known so +much happiness. Somehow she felt it would never again be the same; that +the parting of the ways had at last arrived. Her mind turned often towards +Stephen. She had seen him but little of late. Formerly he had been so much +at the Rectory. Seldom a day had passed that she did not see him. But now +it was so different. Sometimes for a whole week, and already it had been a +fortnight since he had been there. She knew how busy he was bringing his +logs down to the river. He had told her that stream driving would soon +begin, when every hour would be precious to catch the water while it +served. She knew this, and yet the separation was harder than she had +expected. There was an ache in her heart which she could not describe. +Often she chided herself at what she called her foolishness. But every +evening while sitting in the room she would start at any footstep on the +platform, and a deep flush would suffuse her face. She had come to realize +during the time of waiting what Stephen really meant to her.</p> + +<p>Thus while Nellie worked and thought in the Rectory, Stephen with his men +was urging his drive of logs down the rough and crooked Pennack stream. +How he did work! There was no time to be lost, for the water might +suddenly fall off and leave the logs stranded far from the river. All day +long he wrestled with the monsters of the forest. At night there was the +brief rest, then up and on again in the morning. But ever as he handled +the peevy there stood before him the vision of the sweet-faced woman at +the Rectory. She it was who had moved him to action, and inspired him. +through days of discouragement. His deep love for her was transforming him +into a man. He longed to go to her, to comfort her in her time of trouble. +But he must not leave his work now. Too much depended upon that drive +coming out, and she would understand. So day by day he kept to his task, +and not until the last log had shot safely into the boom in the creek +below did he throw down his peevy. It was late in the evening as he sprang +ashore and started up the road. His heart was happy. He had accomplished +the undertaking he had set out to perform.</p> + +<p>And while Stephen trudged homeward Nellie sat in the little sitting-room, +her fingers busy with her needle. All things had been completed for their +departure, which was to take place on the morrow. Parson John had retired +early to rest, and Nellie was doing a little sewing which was needed. The +fire burned in the grate as usual, for the evening was chill, and the +light from the lamp flooded her face and hair with a soft, gentle +radiance. Perfect type of womanhood was she, graceful in form, fair in +feature, the outward visible signs of a pure and inward spiritual +nobleness.</p> + +<p>So did she seem to the man standing outside and looking upon her through +the window with fond, loving eyes. His knock upon the door startled the +quiet worker. She rose to her feet, moved forward, and then hesitated. Who +could it be at such an hour? for it was almost eleven o'clock. Banishing +her fear she threw open the door, and great was her surprise to behold the +one of whom she had just been thinking standing there. For a brief space +of time neither spoke, but stood looking into each other's eyes. Then, +"Stephen," said Nellie, and her voice trembled, "I didn't expect to see +you to-night. Is anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"No, not with me," Stephen replied as he entered. "But with you, Nellie, +there is trouble, and I want to tell you how I feel for you. I wanted to +come before; but you understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, Stephen," and Nellie took a chair near the fire.</p> + +<p>As Stephen looked down upon her as she sat there, how he longed to put his +strong arm about her and comfort her. He had planned to say many things +which he had thought out for days before. But nothing now would come to +his lips. He stood as if stricken dumb.</p> + +<p>"Nellie."</p> + +<p>"Stephen."</p> + +<p>Silence reigned in the room. Their hearts beat fast. Each realized what +that silence meant, and yet neither spoke. With a great effort Stephen +crushed back the longing to tell her all that was in his heart, and to +claim her for his own. Would she refuse? He did not believe so. But he was +not worthy of her love--no, not yet. He must prove himself a man first. He +must redeem the homestead, and then he would speak. Sharp and fierce was +the struggle raging in his breast. He had thought it would be a simple +matter to come and talk to her on this night. He would bid her a +conventional good-bye, and go back to his work, cheered and strengthened. +But he little realized how his heart would be stirred by her presence as +she sat there bowed in trouble.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," he said at length, taking a seat near by. "I'm very sorry you're +going away. What will the place be like without you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm sorry to go, Stephen," was the low reply. "'Tis hard to go away +from home, especially under--under a cloud."</p> + +<p>"But, surely, Nellie, you don't think the people believe those stories?"</p> + +<p>"No, not all. But some do, and it's so hard on father. He has had so much +trouble lately with that mining property in British Columbia, and now this +has come."</p> + +<p>Stephen sat thinking for a while before he spoke. When at last he did he +looked searchingly into Nellie's face.</p> + +<p>"There is something which puzzles me very much, and partly for that reason +I have come to see you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Anything more in connection with father, Stephen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Nora has been worse of late, and the doctor said that the only hope +of curing her was to send her to New York to a specialist. Mother was very +much depressed, for we have no means, and under the circumstances it is so +hard to hire money. I had about made up my mind to get some money advanced +on the logs. I would do anything for Nora's sake. The next day your father +came to see her, and mother was telling him what the doctor said, and how +much he thought it would cost. Two days later your father sent mother a +cheque for the full amount, with a letter begging her to keep the matter +as quiet as possible. I cannot understand it at all. I know your father is +in great need of money, and yet he can spare that large sum. Do you know +anything about it?"</p> + +<p>Nellie listened to these words with fast beating heart. She knew her +father had been over to bid Mrs. Frenelle and Nora good-bye, but he had +said nothing to her about giving the money. The mystery was certainly +deepening. Where had that money come from? A sudden thought stabbed her +mind. She banished it instantly, however, while her face crimsoned to +think that she should believe anything so unworthy of her father.</p> + +<p>"Nellie," Stephen questioned, after he had waited some time for her to +speak, "do you know anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"No, Stephen; nothing. It is all a great puzzle. But it is honest money! +Never doubt that! Father keeps silence for some purpose, I am sure. He +will tell us some day. We must wait and be patient!"</p> + +<p>She was standing erect now, her eyes glowing with the light of +determination, and her small, shapely hands were clenched. She had thought +of what people would say if they heard this. It would be like oil to fire. +No, they must never know it.</p> + +<p>"Stephen," she cried, "promise me before God that you will not tell anyone +outside of your family about that money!"</p> + +<p>"I promise, Nellie. Did you think I would tell? I know mother and Nora +will not. Did you doubt me?"</p> + +<p>"No, Stephen, I did not doubt you. But, oh, I do not know what to think +these days! My mind is in such a whirl all the time, and my heart is so +heavy over the puzzling things which have happened. I just long to lie +down and rest, rest, forever."</p> + +<p>"You're tired, Nellie," replied Stephen, as he straightened himself up in +an effort to control his own feelings. "You must rest now, and you will be +stronger to-morrow. Good-bye, Nellie, God bless you," and before she could +say a word he had caught her hand in his, kissed it fervently, flung open +the door, and disappeared into the night.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_23"></a>Chapter XXIII</h1> + +<h2>Where Is Dan?</h2> + + + +<p>During the whole of this time of excitement Dan had been doing his own +share of thinking. He heard the rumours of the parish, listened to the +stories told at the store or blacksmith shop, tucked them away in his +retentive mind, and brooded over them by day and night. The purpose which +had taken possession of him as he sat by the parson's side during his +lonely watch in Stephen's camp grew stronger as the days passed by. He +told no one, not even Nellie, what was in his mind. It was a sacred thing +to him, and he dreamed over it, as a mother over her unborn child. Not +until the dream had become a reality, a living deed, must the world know +of it.</p> + +<p>Formerly he had been indifferent as to his studies. His listless manner +was a great cause of worry to Nellie. But after the accident a change took +place. His eagerness to know how to write surprised her. Often she found +him painfully scrawling huge letters upon any old piece of paper he +happened to find. Time and time again he asked her how to spell certain +words, and when she had printed them for him he copied them over and over +again with the greatest care. Every day he watched the mail-carrier as he +rattled by in his rude buckboard. To him this man was a wonderful being. +Knowing nothing of the postal system, Dan imagined that Si Tower conducted +the whole business himself. "How much he must know," he thought, "and what +long journeys he must take." It was therefore with considerable +trepidation he one day stood by the roadside watching the postman rattling +along.</p> + +<p>"Hello, kid! Watcher want?" was Si's salutation as he pulled in his old +nag, and glared down upon the boy.</p> + +<p>"You give this to Tony, please," and Dan held up a little folded slip of +paper.</p> + +<p>Tower looked at the paper, and turned over the wad of tobacco in his cheek +before replying. Then a quaint twinkle shone in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't take that," he said. "'Tain't lawful. No stamp. Say, kid, guess +the only way fer ye to deliver that is to take it yerself. Git up, Bess," +and with a hearty laugh the postman swung on his way, and all that day +told the story wherever he stopped.</p> + +<p>"Ye should have seen his face an' eyes," he chuckled. "It was as good as a +circus. Thar was no stamp on the letter, an' when I told 'im to go himself +an' deliver it, he jist stared at me. Ha, ha, it was too funny fer +anything."</p> + +<p>But Dan, as he stood in the road watching Tower drive away, did not see +anything funny. His faith in the postman had received a rude shock. His +hero was made of common clay after all. He sighed as he walked back to the +house, clutching in his hands the little crumpled piece of paper. As the +days passed and the new trouble arose at the Rectory, Dan became very +restless. He knew of everything that was going on, and when the Bishop +arrived he gazed upon him with awe mingled with fear and anger. Often he +would draw forth the letter, from a deep, capacious pocket, and look long +and carefully upon it.</p> + +<p>At length the moment arrived when his mind was fully made up. He bade +Nellie and her father good-night, and crept upstairs to his own little +room. For some time he sat upon the bed lost in thought. He heard Nellie +come up the stairs and enter her own room. Drawing up the blind and +turning down the light, he looked out of the window. How dark it was, and +dismal. He would wait awhile until it became lighter. Throwing himself +upon the bed without undressing, he drew a quilt over him and ere long was +fast asleep. When he opened his eyes a dim light was struggling in through +the window, and contending slowly with the blackness of night. Dan was +sleepy, and the bed so comfortable, that he longed to stay where he was. +But this feeling was soon overcome, and springing to his feet he stood +listening and alert, as a creature of the wild startled from its lair. Not +a sound disturbed the house. Everything was wrapped in silence. Quietly he +moved out of his room, and crept softly down the stairs, fearful lest at +every creak Nellie should be aroused. Reaching the kitchen he put on his +shoes, which he had left by the stove. Next he went into the pantry, found +some cold meat, bread, cheese and biscuits. A paper bag lying near was +soon filled and securely tied with a stout string. Dan sighed as he donned +his cap, drew on his mittens, closed the back door, and stood by the +little outside porch. In his heart he felt it was wrong to go away without +telling Nellie and her father where he was going. But on the other hand he +was quite sure they would not be willing for him to go so far away, and +besides he did not wish to tell them anything until the deed had been +accomplished.</p> + +<p>The early morning air was cool, clear and crisp. The sun had not yet +risen, but far away in the eastern sky the glory of another new-born day +was clearly visible. Dan's heart responded to the freshness and the beauty +which lay around him. As the daylight increased the feeble chirp of +half-awakened birds fell upon his ears. The old longing for the wild +filled his soul. He thought of his father, the little cabin in the valley, +and the woodland haunts he knew and loved so dearly. His eyes sparkled +with animation, and the blood tingled and surged through his body. He felt +like shouting at the mere joy of being alive.</p> + +<p>"Guess I must be like the bears," he thought. "They stay in their dens all +winter and come out in the spring. I'm just like one now."</p> + +<p>He knew the direction, for had he not listened time and time again to the +conversations in the store? The talk had often turned upon Rodgers & +Peterson's big lumbering operations in Big Creek Valley. Yes, he was sure +he could find the place. Up the river to Rocky Point, from thence along a +big cove, then over a hill and down into a valley. He had dreamed of the +way; how long it would take him, and what he would say when he got there. +All day long he plodded steadily onward, and when night shut down he +stopped by a large stack of hay which had been brought from the lowlands +when the river was frozen. He was tired, and the soft hay inviting. Into +this he crawled, and ere long was fast asleep. Early the next morning he +was up and on again. His supply of food was now getting low. At noon he +ruefully viewed the little that was left. "Enough only for supper," he +murmured. "Maybe I'll get there to-morrow."</p> + +<p>During the day he learned from several people he met that he was on the +right road. They had looked with interest upon the little figure, and +asked him numerous questions. But Dan gave only indefinite answers. He +wished to go to Big Creek Valley to Rodgers & Peterson's lumber camp. When +the second night arrived he was very weary and footsore. He had eaten his +last scrap of food before sundown, and as he trudged on he wondered what +he would do in the morning. He disliked the idea of asking at any of the +farm-houses for food. His father had always scoffed at tramps and beggars. +"They are spongers," he had often said, "and people cannot afford to have +such useless people around."</p> + +<p>That word "sponger" as it came to Dan caused him to straighten himself up +and step forward more quickly. He was not a sponger now. His face flushed +at Farrington's insult. He would show the whole world that he could pay +for his keep, and if he could not do it in one way, he would in another.</p> + +<p>That night no friendly haystack stood by the road-side, but over there in +the field he saw a barn near a farm-house. He could find shelter in that. +Waiting until it was dark, he crept cautiously through a small sheep door, +and entered. He heard in another part of the building the cattle munching +the last of their evening meal. It was good to know that they were near, +and that he was not altogether alone. As he threw himself upon a small +bunch of straw which he found as he felt around with his hands, a great +feeling of loneliness came over him. He longed for the Rectory and a +glimpse of Nellie's face. Was she thinking of him, he wondered, or had she +forgotten him, and believed him to be an ungrateful scamp? He clenched his +hands, and the blood surged to his face as he thought of it. No, he would +show her he was not a scamp, but a real man. Oh, she should know what he +could do!</p> + +<p>Thinking thus he found himself no longer in the barn, but back again at +the Rectory. He could see the fire burning brightly on the hearth, and a +number of people standing around. They were all looking upon him, and he +saw the doctor there, too. But Nellie's face riveted his attention. She +was gazing upon him with such a deep look of love. And yet it did not seem +altogether like Nellie, and, when she spoke, it was a different voice. +Suddenly a strange sound fell upon his ears. The room at the Rectory +faded, and in ita stead there was the rough barn floor, and the bunch of +straw on which he was lying. For an instant he gazed around him in a +bewildered manner. He could not realize just where he was. A childish +laugh caused him to turn his head, and there looking in at him from a +small door to the left was a little maiden, with curly, auburn hair and +cheeks twin sisters to the rosiest apples that ever grew.</p> + +<p>"Oo azy ittle boy!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Oo must det up. Turn, +daddy, tee azy, azy ittle boy."</p> + +<p>Presently there apppeared at her side, a large man, holding a pail in his +left hand.</p> + +<p>"What is it, dearie?" he asked. "What's all the fun and chattering about?"</p> + +<p>"Tee, tee, azy boy," and she pointed with a fat little finger to the +corner of the barn floor.</p> + +<p>By this time Dan had leaped to his feet, and stood confronting the man. He +felt that he was a trespasser, and perhaps he would be punished. But as he +looked into the big man's eyes he read with the instinct of a wild animal +that he had nothing to fear, for only pity shone in those clear, grey +depths.</p> + +<p>"Did you sleep there all night?" the man asked, pointing to the straw.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was the reply. "I hope you're not cross."</p> + +<p>"I'm cross, boy, to think that you didn't come to the house and ask for a +bed."</p> + +<p>"I didn't like to, sir. I didn't like to bother anybody. But I knew +whoever owned the barn wouldn't mind if I slept here. It's a comfortable +place, and I was tired."</p> + +<p>"Did you have any supper last night?" the man asked, looking keenly into +Dan's face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; a piece of bread."</p> + +<p>"What, nothing more?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I had a grand drink from that spring back yonder, and with the +good sleep I've had, I think I can manage to-day."</p> + +<p>"Look here, boy, you'll not leave this place until you have your +breakfast. So come. Marion, you found this little stranger, and you must +take him to the house."</p> + +<p>But Dan drew back, as the little maiden toddled up to take him by the +hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't go," he stammered. "I've got no money, and I won't be a sponger."</p> + +<p>"A what?" asked the man.</p> + +<p>"A sponger. I hate a sponger, and so did my father. I'll split wood for my +breakfast if you'll let me, sir, for I am hungry."</p> + +<p>"That's a bargain," said the man, much pleased at the spirit of the boy. +"So hurry off now. I haven't much time to lose."</p> + +<p>Proudly the little maiden conducted her charge to the house, and told in +broken language about her marvellous find. Dan felt much at home with +Marion's mother, and during breakfast he told her where he was going.</p> + +<p>"What! to Rodgers & Peterson's camp!" exclaimed: the big man at the head +of the table. "That's where I'm going myself, and that's why I'm up so +early this morning. I'm glad to hear of that, for I'll have company."</p> + +<p>"But I must split the wood," Dan insisted. "I shall try to earn my +breakfast, but what about the ride?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll give you work along the way," laughed the man. "You'll have +plenty to do, so don't worry."</p> + +<p>While the horses were being harnessed Dan vigorously swung the axe in the +wood-house. Perched upon the door-step Marion watched him with admiring +eyes. He knew that she was looking at him, and his bosom swelled with +pride. He was not a sponger, but a man working for his breakfast. At times +he stole a glance at the little figure sitting there. "How pretty she is," +he thought. "I wish I had a sister like her. He longed to stay there, to +be near the little maiden, and to work for the big, kind man. He sighed as +he laid down the axe, and gazed at the wood he had chopped.</p> + +<p>"It ain't much," he remarked, as he stood ready to climb into the waggon. +"Wish I had more time."</p> + +<p>"It will do," responded the big man. "I am satisfied if you are."</p> + +<p>Dan had no time to answer, for at that instant a little voice sounded +forth. Looking quickly around he beheld Marion hurrying towards him +holding in her hand a small rose.</p> + +<p>"Me div dis to oo, ittle boy," she cried. "It's off my own woes bus. Oo +must teep it."</p> + +<p>Hardly knowing what he did Dan took the little flower, and stood staring +at Marion.</p> + +<p>"Come, lassie," cried her father, catching her in his arms and giving her +a loving hug and a kiss. Take good care of mother. We must be off."</p> + +<p>"Oo div me tiss, too," and she lifted up her lips to Dan's.</p> + +<p>The latter's face flushed scarlet, and he trembled. Never in his life had +he kissed a little girl like that. What should he do? He longed for the +ground to open or something dreadful to happen. He would have welcomed +anything just then.</p> + +<p>"Tiss me, ittle boy," urged Marion. She had him by the coat now with both +hands, drawing him down to her. There was nothing for him to do. He must +go through the ordeal. Suddenly he bent his head and shut his eyes. His +face came close to hers; he felt her lips touch his cheek, and heard her +childish laugh of delight.</p> + +<p>"Dood ittle boy!" she exclaimed. "Now dood-by. Don't lose my pitty fower."</p> + +<p>Too much confused to say a word Dan scrambled into the waggon, and soon +the horses were speeding off down the lane to the road. For some time he +sat bolt upright on the seat, silent and thoughtful, clutching in his hand +that tiny rose. The big man at his side asked no questions, but seemed +intent solely upon managing his horses. But not a motion of the little lad +at his side escaped his notice. He loved children, and had the rare gift +of understanding them. A faint smile played about his mouth as from the +corner of his eye he saw Dan take a piece of paper from his pocket, shyly +place the rose between the folds and then return it to its former place. +He could not hear the boy's heart thumping hard beneath his jacket, but he +understood, and what more was needed?</p> + +<p>All day long they jogged over the road, stopping only at noon to feed the +horses and eat a lunch Marion's mother had tucked away in the corner of +the waggon. Dan found it easy to talk to the big man sitting by his side. +He told him about his father's death, Parson John, and the accident, to +which his companion listened with much interest. But concerning the object +of his visit to the lumber camp, Dan was silent. Several times he was at +the point of explaining everything, but always he hesitated and determined +to wait.</p> + +<p>"I did not tell Nellie," he said to himself, "and why should I tell a +stranger first?"</p> + +<p>The sun was sinking far westward as they wound their way along a woodland +road. Down to the left the water of Big Creek Brook raced and swirled. +Occasionally they caught glimpses of the rushing torrent as the road +dipped closer to the bank.</p> + +<p>"We should meet the drive ere long," the big man remarked, as he flicked +the horses with his whip. "I'm afraid the logs have jammed in Giant Gorge, +or else they would have been here by this time. It's a bad, rocky place, +and seldom a drive gets through without trouble."</p> + +<p>Presently he pulled up his horses before a little log shack standing to +the right.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave the horses here for the night, boy," he said. "There's a +path down yonder to the left. If you're in a hurry you can take that. It +will lead to the stream, and you can follow it up until you meet the men. +If they ask any questions tell them you came with Big Sam, and everything +will be all right. Take care and don't fall into the water."</p> + +<p>Dan was only too anxious to be on foot. He was cramped from sitting so +long in the waggon. Moreover, he was restless to get to the end of his +journey, and accomplish his business. Thanking the big man, he leaped from +the waggon and was soon speeding down the path, and in a few minutes +reached the edge of the brook, roaring and foaming between its steep +banks. Looking up-stream he could see no sign of the drive, but the +well-beaten path was there, and along this he hurried. Ere long he reached +a bend in the stream and as he rounded this, and lifted up his eyes, a +wild, terrible scene was presented to view. Away to the right he beheld +Giant Gorge, a narrow gash in the rocks, through which the waters were +seething and boiling in wildest commotion. On the hither side a flood of +logs was sweeping and tearing down, like a mighty breastwork suddenly +loosened. Dan started back in terror at the sight, and was about to spring +up the bank to a place of safety, when his eyes rested upon the form of a +man out in the midst of that rush of destruction, vainly trying to free +himself from the watery chasm which had suddenly yawned beneath his feet. +Dan's heart beat wildly at the sight. But only for an instant did he +hesitate. Then forward he leaped like a greyhound. Forgotten was the +rushing torrent, and his own danger. He thought only of that frantically +clinging man. He reached the edge of the stream, leaped upon the nearest +logs, and, with the agility of a wildcat, threaded his way through that +terrible labyrinth of grinding, crashing, heaving monsters.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_24"></a>Chapter XXIV</h1> + +<h2>The Rush of Doom</h2> + + + +<p>To bring a drive of logs down Big Creek Brook required skill, patience and +courage. It was a nasty, crooked stream, filled with sunken rocks, bad +bends and stretches of shallow water. Rodgers & Peterson had their logs in +the stream early, and everything pointed to a successful season's work. +For awhile all went well, but then mishap after mishap held them back. The +logs jammed in several places, and days were lost in getting them cleared. +Then they grounded upon bars and shoals, which caused a great delay. But +the most serious of all was the hold-up in Giant Gorge. This was the most +dreaded spot in the whole stream, and seldom had a drive been brought +through without some disaster. Much blasting had been done, and a number +of obstacles blown away. But for all that there were rocks which defied +the skill of man to remove. Two flinty walls reared their frowning sides +for several rods along the brook. Between these an immense boulder lifted +its head, around which the waters incessantly swirled. But when the stream +was swollen high enough the logs would clear this obstacle at a bound, +like chargers leaping a fence, and plunge into the whirling eddies below.</p> + +<p>When the "R & P" drive, the name by which it was commonly known, reached +Giant Gorge, it was confidently believed that there was enough water to +carry it safely through. But such reckoning was wrong. As the logs came +sweeping down and were sucked into the Gorge they began to crowd, and, +instead of rushing through loose and free, they jammed against the rocky +walls, while a huge monster became wedged on the sunken boulder, and, +acting as a key log, held in check the whole drive. Then began a wild +scene, which once beheld can never be forgotten. Stopped in their mad +career, the logs presented the spectacle of unrestrained passion. The +mighty, heaving, twisting mass groaned, pressed and writhed for freedom, +but with the awful grip of death the sturdy key log held firm. Steadily +the jam increased in size, and whiter threw the foam, as one by one those +giant logs swept crashing down, to be wedged amidst their companions as if +driven by the sledge of Thor.</p> + +<p>The drivers stood upon the bank and watched the logs piling higher and +higher. Well did they know what the delay might mean to Rodgers & +Peterson. Much depended upon that drive coming out, and for it to be held +up during summer meant almost ruin to the firm. They were a hardy body of +men who stood there late that afternoon discussing the matter. They were +great workmen these, well versed in woodland lore. All winter long had +they taken their part in that big lumber operation, and, now that the work +was almost completed, it was certainly aggravating to be thus checked.</p> + +<p>As the men talked, and several lighted their pipes, one strapping fellow +stood on the bank, his eyes fixed upon that immovable key log. During the +whole winter Tony Stickles had been the butt as well as the curiosity of +the men. His long, lank figure was the source of much ridicule, while his +remarks, which were always slow and few, were generally greeted with +merriment. From the first night in camp he had been a marked man. Ere he +threw himself into the rude bunk he had knelt down on the floor in the +presence of them all, and said his evening prayer. A boot had been thrown +at his head, and a laugh had gone about the room. Tony had risen from his +knees, and with a flushed face sought his couch, surprised at the action +on the part of these men. But one middle-aged man of great stature and +strength had watched it all. He sat quietly smoking for several minutes +after the laughter had subsided.</p> + +<p>"Boys," he said at length, taking his pipe from his mouth, "I'm real sorry +at what ye've done to-night. I've six little ones of me own, an' I hope to +God when they grow up they'll not be afeered to kneel down an' do as yon +lad has done to-night. I'm not a good man meself, more's the pity. But +that boy's had a good mother's teachin'. I honour her an' 'im. An' let me +tell ye this, men, if I ketch ye doin' agin what ye did to-night, ye'll +have to reckon with me. So jist try it on, an' I won't give a second +warnin'."</p> + +<p>Jake Purdy calmly resumed his smoking, and the men looked at one another +in silence. They knew very well from certain past unpleasant experiences +what it meant to cross this quiet, plain-spoken man. He said little, and +never entered into a quarrel without some reason. But when he did there +was cause for the stoutest heart to quake.</p> + +<p>Tony listened to it all concealed away in his bunk. His heart thumped +beneath his rough shirt, and he wished to thank Jake for taking his part. +But strive as he might he never had the opportunity. The big woodsman +never seemed to notice him. Days passed into weeks, and still Tony did not +utter the gratitude which was lying in his heart. To him Jake was more +than ordinary--a hero. He watched him as he chopped, and drank in greedily +the few words he let fall from time to time in the camp.</p> + +<p>"Boys, that drive must go through."</p> + +<p>It was the boss who spoke, as he jerked his thumb towards the Gorge. "Yes, +it's got to go through to-night, or it's all up. The water's falling off +fast, and if we wait till to-morrow, we'll wait till next fall. I've +always said there should be a dam at the head of the Gorge, and I say it +now more emphatically than ever. But as it is not there, it's up to us to +get this d--n thing through as best we can. I've never been stuck yet in +bringing out a drive, and I hope this won't be the first time."</p> + +<p>"But what's your plan?" asked one. "Hadn't ye better pick one of us to go +down into that hell-hole, an' cut that key log?"</p> + +<p>"No, that isn't my plan," and the boss scratched the back of his head. +"I'm not going to be responsible for the carcase of any man. If I say to +one 'Go,' and he goes and gets pinched, I'll worry about it to my dying +day. I'd rather go myself first. But if we draw for it, then it's off my +shoulders, and I stand the same chance as the rest of ye. I believe that +whatever is to be will be, and the right man to go down there will be +chosen. Do you agree to that, boys?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," came the response. "Go ahead, Tim. We'll stand by the +agreement."</p> + +<p>Some brown paper was accordingly found, and cut with a big jack-knife into +twenty pieces, according to the number of the men. On one of these a large +X was marked with a blue lead-pencil, which one of the men had in his +pocket. A tin lunch can was next produced, and into this the pieces of +paper were all thrown and the cover shut down tight. When the can had been +thoroughly shaken, the men came up one by one, shut their eyes, put in +their hands and drew forth a slip. A tense silence reigned during this +performance, and the hearts of these sturdy men beat fast as each glanced +at his paper to see what it contained. Jake Purdy was one of the last to +approach, and, thrusting in a huge, hairy hand, jerked forth his piece, +and as he looked upon it his face turned pale, though he said not a word +as he held up the slip for all to see the fatal X scrawled upon it. At +that instant Tony Stickles started forward, and confronted Jake. His eyes +were wide with excitement, and his long, lank figure was drawn up to its +full height.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't go!" he cried. "No, no! You've got six little ones at home, +an' a wife who wants ye. I'll go in yer place."</p> + +<p>Big Jake looked at Tony in surprise, and into his strong, determined face +came an expression of tenderness which the men had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"No, lad," he replied, "it can't be. The lot's fallen to me, an' I'm the +one to do it. I thank ye kindly all the same."</p> + +<p>Tony waited to hear no more. His eyes glanced upon an axe lying near. +Springing towards this he seized it, and before a restraining hand could +be laid upon him he bounded towards the Gorge, sprang down the bank and +leaped upon the logs.</p> + +<p>Big Jake rushed after him, calling and imploring him to come back. But his +cries were unheeded. Tony was now between the rocky walls, working his way +over those tossed and twisted monsters, deaf to all entreaties from the +shore.</p> + +<p>"Come back, Jake!" roared the men from behind. "It's no use for you to go +now. He's taken the matter into his own hands, an' one's enough."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly he obeyed, and stood with the rest watching with breathless +interest to see what would happen.</p> + +<p>Tony had now reached the front of the jam, and was carefully picking his +way to the gripping key log. Balancing himself as well as he could he +chose a spot where the strain was the greatest. Then the axe cleaved the +air, the keen blade bit the wood, and the whirling chips played about his +head. Deeper and deeper the steel ate into the side of the giant spruce. +Suddenly a report like a cannon split the air, the axe was hurled like a +rocket out into midstream to sink with a splash into the foaming eddies. +Tony turned, leaped like lightning back upon the main body of logs, and +started for the shore. But he was too late. With a roar of pent-up wrath +the mighty drive moved forward. Down through the Gorge it surged, gaining +in speed every instant from the terrible pressure behind. And down with it +went Tony, enwrapped with foam and spray. Nobly he kept his feet. He +leaped from one log to another. He dodged monster after monster, which +rose on end and threatened to strike him down. It was a wild race with +death. Should he miss his footing or lose his head only for an instant he +would have been ground to pieces in that rush of doom. The watching men +stood as if transfixed to the spot. They saw him speeding onward and +drawing nearer to the shore at the sharp bend in the stream. It looked as +if he would gain the bank, and a cheer of encouragement rang out over the +waters. But the words had scarcely died upon their lips ere they beheld +the logs part asunder right beneath Tony's feet, and with a wild cry he +plunged into the rushing current below. Frantically he clutched at the +nearest logs, and endeavoured to pull himself up from that watery grave. +At times he managed to draw himself part way out, but the swirling waters +sucked him down. It needed only a little help, but the logs were wet and +slippery, and there was nothing on which to obtain a firm grip. His body +was becoming numb from the icy waters, and at each terrible struggle he +felt himself growing weaker. He knew he could last but little longer in +such a position. Was he to drown there? His thoughts flashed to his little +home in Glendow. Were they thinking of him? he wondered. What would his +mother say when they carried her the news? Oh, if he could only feel her +strong hand in his now, how soon he would be lifted from that awful place. +Suddenly there came into his mind her parting words when he had left home.</p> + +<p>"Tony," she had said, "ye may be often in danger out thar in the woods. +But remember what the good Lord said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble +an' I will deliver ye.'"</p> + +<p>And there in the midst of that swirling death he lifted up his voice. "Oh, +Lord!" he cried, "help me! save me!"</p> + +<p>And even as he prayed, and made one more mighty struggle, a small hand +reached out and grasped his. It was all that was needed. He felt the +watery grip loosen, and numbed to the bone he sprawled his full length +across a big log at Dan's feet. And not a moment too soon had that helping +hand been stretched forth, for glancing back he saw the logs had closed +again, grinding and tearing as before. They had struck a wild eddy and all +was confusion. He staggered to his feet at the shock and barely escaped a +huge log which suddenly shot up from below. But Dan was not so fortunate, +for a glancing blow sent him reeling back, a helpless, pathetic little +figure. Tony was all alert now. Leaping forward he caught the unconscious +boy in his arms, and started for the shore. Then began a fierce, +determined fight, a hand-to-hand encounter with cold, relentless death. +Step by step Tony staggered forward, baffled here, retreating a few paces +there, but steadily gaining. At first he did not mind Dan's weight, but +after a few minutes the burden began to tell. He was weak anyway from the +terrible strain and experience through which he had recently passed. Could +he hold out until he reached the shore? His face was drawn and tense; his +eyes stared wildly upon those rolling, moving, writhing things beneath his +feet. They seemed like thousands of serpents trying to capture him as he +leaped from one to the other. His brain reeled; he was falling, but at +that moment he felt strong arms about him. His burden was snatched away. +He heard voices, friendly, encouraging and cheering, and then, oblivion.</p> + +<p>When Tony opened his eyes he found himself lying upon the shore with +several men standing near, watching him with keen interest. There was no +merriment or ridicule in their faces now, but only anxiety and sympathy. +The hearts of these rough men had been touched by what they had recently +witnessed. Most of them were with the drive, but a few had been told off +to look after the two lads.</p> + +<p>"Where's that boy?" asked Tony as the terrible scene flashed back into his +mind.</p> + +<p>"Over there," replied one, jerking his thumb to the left.</p> + +<p>"Is he all right?" was Tony's next query.</p> + +<p>"Can't say. He's not come to yet."</p> + +<p>At this Tony struggled to his feet, and walked slowly over to where Dan +was lying, unconscious still, and breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"Who is he? Where did he come from?" were the questions which these men +asked one another as they rubbed Dan's body, and bathed his forehead.</p> + +<p>Something white sticking from a little pocket in Dan's coat caught Tony's +eye. Reaching down he drew it forth, and as he did so the little crushed +rose dropped to the ground. One of the men picked it up and holding it in +his big, rough hand looked curiously upon it. But Tony did not notice the +flower, for his eyes were fixed upon the paper on which he saw his own +name. Slowly and with difficulty he spelled out the queer letters scrawled +there.</p> + +<p>"deR toNy," so the missive began. "cUm hoM qiK they say paRson John sTol +ol bilees goLD i tHINK yoU nO weR IT ISS</p> + +<p>"yeR friEND TruLEE</p> + +<p>"<i>Dan</i>."</p> + +<p>Tony held the letter in his hand for some minutes and stared at those +quaint words. He had heard from his mother of the death of old Billy and +the burning of his house. But of the trouble later he knew nothing, for +letters from home had been few. Now a new light dawned upon his mind. +Something must be wrong, and this lad had come all the way for him! But +who was Dan? He had never seen nor heard of him before.</p> + +<p>"As he stood there Big Sam drew near. He started with surprise as he saw +the boy lying on the ground, his little pale face resting upon a rough +coat.</p> + +<p>"What! what's this?" he exclaimed. "Why, this is the boy who came with me +to-day! Has he fallen into the stream? I warned him to be careful."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! poor boy!" he remarked when the story of the brave deed had +been related. "Do you think he's badly hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say," replied one. "But do ye know who he is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," and Big Sam in a few words told all that he knew.</p> + +<p>"We must get him away from this as soon as possible," said the former +speaker. "He needs the doctor. Where had we better take him?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, boys," said Sam after a moment's thought. "As soon as those +horses have munched their oats they shall head for home. I'll take the boy +with me, and my wife will care for him. The doctor lives near."</p> + +<p>Tony stood by listening to it all with his eyes fixed intently upon Dan's +face, while his hand still clutched the letter. He was weak, and ready to +drop. But a burning desire throbbed within his breast. He partly realized +the situation at Glendow. There was trouble, deep, serious trouble, and he +was needed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_25"></a>Chapter XXV</h1> + +<h2>Beneath the Ashes</h2> + + + +<p>Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on +the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs. Not a ripple disturbed +the surface of the noble river, or the waters of the little creek lying +between its semi-wooded banks. It was a balmy spring evening when the +whole world seemed at peace. On a night such as this new longings and +aspirations swell the heart, and the blood tingles joyfully through the +body. Stephen had remained after the rest of the men had gone home. He +wished to examine the logs to see that the work was well done. As he now +stood on the shore his thoughts were not upon the glassy river or Nature's +loveliness. His mind was disturbed. All through the winter he had been +looking forward to the time when the logs would be floating there secured +by their wooden bonds. He had planned to have Nellie come to see the +completion of his work. He knew how she would rejoice at what he had +accomplished, and in his mind he had heard her words of congratulation. +But now all was changed. The work was done, but Nellie was not there to +behold his victory. How lonely seemed the parish since her departure. He +had thrown himself with great energy into his task, and the days had sped +by. But, try as he might, he could not free himself from the weight which +pressed upon his heart. Everything in the parish moved on as before. The +new clergyman came, and service had been held in the church as usual. Many +spoke favourably of the new man. He was young, full of spirit, and a +clear, forcible speaker. But to Stephen it was not the same as formerly. +He missed the white-haired, venerable man in his accustomed place. The +moment he entered the church his eyes sought the seat where Nellie always +sat. It was empty. That form so dear to him was not there. He saw her +Prayer Book and Hymn Book in the little rack, and a lump came into his +throat, as he knew they would not be used.</p> + +<p>He thought of these things, standing there on the shore. His tall, manly +figure was drawn to its full height. He gazed straight before. It was a +far-off vision he beheld, and suddenly there came into his heart a peace +such as he had not known since she left. She seemed to be very near, +standing right by his side. He saw her face, beheld her eyes looking into +his, and heard her voice bidding him to be of good cheer, and to look up.</p> + +<p>A sound near by startled him. He glanced quickly around, half expecting to +see Nellie standing there. Instead, however, he beheld the tall, lank form +of Tony Stickles approaching. His face was gaunt, his step weak and slow. +But Stephen did not notice these, so surprised was he to see him.</p> + +<p>"Tony!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, "where did you drop from? I +thought you were on the big drive."</p> + +<p>"So I was, Steve," Tony replied, taking a seat upon a large boulder.</p> + +<p>"Didn't get fired, eh?"</p> + +<p>To this Tony made no response. He looked thoughtfully before him for a +while.</p> + +<p>"Say, Steve," he at length remarked. "How's Parson John?"</p> + +<p>"He's gone, Tony. Driven from Glendow."</p> + +<p>"What!" and Tony sprang to his feet in excitement. "When did he leave?"</p> + +<p>"Last week."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm too late! I was afraid of it! But I came fast--I ran sometimes; +but it was no use. Is he in the lockup?"</p> + +<p>"In the lockup! What do you mean?" and Stephen stared at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>From the depth of a capacious pocket Tony brought forth Dan's soiled +letter, and held it up.</p> + +<p>"Read that," he said. "It's all I know."</p> + +<p>Quickly Stephen scanned the quaint words, drinking in almost intuitively +the meaning of it all.</p> + +<p>"Did Dan give you this?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And where is the boy now?"</p> + +<p>Tony's eyes dropped at the question, and he did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong?" Stephen insisted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm afraid so. But set down close, Steve. I've somethin' great to +tell ye."</p> + +<p>And sitting there in the dusk of even Tony poured into his companion's +ears the story of that terrible scene in Giant Gorge, and of Dan's brave +deed.</p> + +<p>Stephen listened spell-bound to the tale. The meaning of Dan's departure +was all clear now. While people had been blaming the lad as an ungrateful +runaway he had fared forth in loving service on behalf of his guardians. A +mistiness blurred Stephen's eyes as Tony paused.</p> + +<p>"Where is Dan now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"At Big Sam's house. We brought 'im down on the waggon, an' I helped carry +'im in."</p> + +<p>"Who is Big Sam?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's the teamster. The booms are near his place whar the raftin' will +be done. Sam hauls the stuff fer the gang."</p> + +<p>"And you don't know how badly Dan is hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No, I came away at once. I wanted to help the old parson. An' say, Steve, +did they find the gold?"</p> + +<p>"Find it? No. And I don't think they will now. It's a great mystery."</p> + +<p>"An' they say the parson took it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some do."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't they find the iron box?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Did they look beneath the ashes?"</p> + +<p>"They searched every nook and corner, and even sifted the ashes, but could +find nothing."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't Billy say nuthin'?"</p> + +<p>"No, he was too weak. He tried to speak after the parson had carried him +out, but no one could understand him."</p> + +<p>Tony did not speak for a while, but remained lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"Steve," he at length remarked. "I'd like to go to that old place. Will ye +go with me?"</p> + +<p>"What! to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, right away."</p> + +<p>"It will be dark there now, Tony. Why not wait until morning?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I must go to-night. We kin git a lantern, an' I want a shovel, +too. Will ye come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want me," was Stephen's reluctant reply. "But you might as +well save yourself the trouble. The place has been so thoroughly searched +by daylight that I don't see we can do much at night. Anyway, I shall go +with you."</p> + +<p>Together they moved on their way up the road, Stephen carrying his peevy +upon his shoulder. As they came to the store he stopped.</p> + +<p>"Wait here, Tony," he said, "till I run in and get the mail. I shall be +only a minute."</p> + +<p>Entering the building he found Farrington sitting behind the counter +writing. He looked up as Stephen entered, and laid down his pen. He was +affable to all now, for election day was but a week off, and he needed +every vote.</p> + +<p>"Raftin' all done, Steve?" he asked as he handed out the mail.</p> + +<p>"Yes, all finished," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Ye'll be to the p'litical meetin' to-night, Steve, won't ye?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had forgotten all about it."</p> + +<p>"But ye must come. I want ye to hear what I hev to say. Gadsby'll be thar, +an' I've got a dose fer 'im which he won't soon fergit. I'll show 'im a +thing or two, an' the people'll learn that they need a real, live +practical man for councillor. Ye must certainly come."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that I can come," Stephen replied. "I have an engagement +to-night. I may be there, however, if I can get through in time. But I +must be off now; Tony's waiting for me."</p> + +<p>At these last words Farrington started, and an expression of concern swept +over his face. He leaned anxiously forward and looked intently at Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Did ye say that Tony Stickles is out thar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He has just arrived."</p> + +<p>"Why, w--what's he back so soon fer?"</p> + +<p>"Special business, so he tells me. But I must be off."</p> + +<p>Stephen noted Farrington's remarkable interest in Tony's return, and +wondered what it meant. He had no mind to tell him about Dan, for he +preferred to have as few words as possible with this man who was such a +thorn in the flesh. He left Farrington standing in the door and proceeded +with Tony up the road. As they moved along he noticed how his companion +lagged behind. Usually he was such a rapid walker, and this slowness was a +surprise to Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Are you not well, Tony?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," was the reply. "I've had a long walk to-day."</p> + +<p>"Since when?"</p> + +<p>"Daybreak."</p> + +<p>"And did you rest?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Look here," and Stephen faced sharply about "Have you had anything to eat +to-day?"</p> + +<p>Tony's face flushed, and he gave a slight, evasive laugh. But Stephen was +not to be put off.</p> + +<p>"No, that won't do. I want to know. Have you been walking all day without +any food?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mind, Steve. I was in a hurry to get home. Besides I--"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," interrupted Stephen. "You didn't have your pay, and were +too proud to beg. Oh, you're a great one. But you shall have supper with +me at once before you go digging among those ashes."</p> + +<p>For a while Tony was stubborn, but in the end Stephen led him off in +triumph. Supper was ready, and Mrs. Frenelle gave the visitor a hearty +welcome, and in his own quaint way he told of his work in the woods, and +his experience on the drive.</p> + +<p>"I feel like a new man," he said, rising from the table. "I was about +tuckered out. Now I'm ready fer that bizness up yon. Guess we'll turn up +somethin' tonight, or my name ain't Tony Stickles."</p> + +<p>It was quite dark by the time they reached the ruins of the old house. The +lantern threw its fitful light over the charred sticks and blackened +stones.</p> + +<p>"My! this is a scary place!" Tony exclaimed as he glanced around. "Poor +old Billy was good to me, an' many a square meal I've had here. Now let's +begin operations."</p> + +<p>The wreck of the old-fashioned chimney stood out gaunt and desolate, while +the large fire-place was filled with sticks and stones. These Tony began +to clear away, tossing them far from the foundation. Placing the lantern +in a secure position, Stephen assisted him in his task. Why he did so he +could not tell, but there was something so sure and masterful about Tony's +words and actions that he felt compelled to do something.</p> + +<p>"Now fer the shovel, Steve. We'll soon see what's here," and Tony began to +dig up ashes and earth in a lively manner. "I think this is the place. +Yes, right down under the big hearth-stone, a little to the right. He told +me about it time an' time agin. Poor Billy! Poor Billy! Ye never thought +it 'ud come to this."</p> + +<p>Stephen was all attention now. He watched Tony, digging and talking, +uncertain whether the lad was really in his right mind. Had the fearful +experience in Giant Gorge turned his brain? he wondered. He had read of +such things. There was something uncanny about the way Tony talked to +himself, and, brave though he was, a strange feeling crept through +Stephen's body, making him long to be away from the spot. And still the +digging went on, down through the yielding soil.</p> + +<p>"Should be here purty close," Tony remarked. "Under the hearth-stone, well +to the right. I ought to be near--Hello! what's this?"</p> + +<p>The exclamation was caused by the point of the shovel striking something +hard. Again and again the thrust was made, and each time a hollow sound +was produced.</p> + +<p>"It's it! It's it!" shouted Tony, now much excited. "I knowed it was +here," and he dug away frantically, until presently an iron box about a +foot long and six inches wide was exposed to view. Throwing aside the +shovel, he seized the treasure with both hands, tore it from its +hiding-place and held it aloft.</p> + +<p>"Look, Steve!" he cried, trembling with excitement, "I knowed thar was +somethin' here!"</p> + +<p>Stephen was now as much aroused as Tony. "What's in it, do you think?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Gold! that's what's in it! Ye'll soon see," and Tony pulled back a little +iron pin and threw up the cover. As he did so he gave a cry of surprise, +for the light falling upon the interior showed nothing there but a few +pieces of paper. Tony rubbed his eyes in amazement, and then looked at +Stephen.</p> + +<p>"Whar's that gold?" he fiercely demanded. "What has become of it?"</p> + +<p>Stephen scarcely heard him, for a terrible idea had flashed into his mind. +Someone had taken it, and was it--? He hardly dare let the name beat for +an instant through his brain. It was cruel. No, no, it could not be! That +white-haired man of God would not stoop to such a thing! But where was the +gold?</p> + +<p>The moon rose clear and full above the distant horizon. It seemed to ask +silently the same question. A dog from a farm-house up the road split the +air with its hoarse bark of wonder. Stephen placed his hand to his +forehead in an abstracted manner. Then he glanced at the box, and the +papers lying therein arrested his attention. He reached down and took them +in his hand. They were tied with an old piece of tarred twine, and were +much blackened and soiled. Drawing forth the first and holding it close to +the lantern, Stephen read the brief words recorded there. It took him but +a minute to do this, and then followed an exclamation which gave Tony a +distinct start.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Steve?" he asked. "What hev ye found?"</p> + +<p>"Read this, and judge for yourself," Stephen replied, thrusting the paper +into his companion's hands.</p> + +<p>As Tony spelled out the words his eyes bulged with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Steve!" he gasped, "I'm so glad it isn't the parson. But do ye think +this is all right?"</p> + +<p>"It. looks like it. See the date, November 10th of last year. And notice, +too, these words 'for safe keeping' and 'until called for.' Why, it's as +plain as day. Then, here's the amount, 'five thousand dollars, all in +gold, to be left in the iron box marked with a cross in white paint.'"</p> + +<p>"Say, Tony," Stephen asked, "did Billy have such a box, another one like +this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I do remember one very well. It was smaller than this; 'twas +stouter an' had a lock an' key. He kept some papers an' loose change in +it. It allus sot on the old mantel-piece over the fire-place."</p> + +<p>"Tony!" said Stephen, looking hard at the paper, "if that box of gold is +there yet, and that man has been silent and let another take the blame, +it's the smallest, vilest piece of work of which I ever heard."</p> + +<p>"Sure 'tis, an' I say let's go an' ax 'im 'bout it."</p> + +<p>"But he's at the meeting now."</p> + +<p>"Well, all the better. It's right that the people should hear. But say, +Steve, what's that other paper?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot it. Maybe it will explain things further."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Billy's will!" cried Stephen, running his eyes over the closely +written sheets, "and he's left the whole of his property, gold, farm and +all, to you."</p> + +<p>"To me! To me!" exclaimed Tony. "Ye must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Read it for yourself, then," and Stephen passed over the will. "It's all +there in black and white."</p> + +<p>As Tony read, his face flushed, and his hands clutched the paper in the +intensity of his feelings. His eyes flashed as he turned them hard upon +Stephen.</p> + +<p>"I understand now!" he cried. "That villain has tried to cheat me outer +all this. He thought the will an' everythin' else was burned. But he was +mistaken. Oh, yes, he didn't know what was beneath the ashes. Come, Steve, +let's go an' ax 'im a few questions. Mebbe he'll explain things. Anyway +we'll give 'im a chance. Come, let's hurry!"</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_26"></a>Chapter XXVI</h1> + +<h2>A Rope of Sand</h2> + + + +<p>Silas Farrington was much disturbed by Tony Stickles' arrival in Glendow. +He had always laughed at the lad, considering him a stupid, ungainly +creature. Occasionally he had overtaken Tony on the road trudging wearily +along, but it had never occurred to him to offer him a seat in his waggon +or sleigh.</p> + +<p>"It spiles sich people," he had often said, "to take too much notice of +'em. They have a sartin place in life, an' should be made to keep it." But +standing in the store that evening after Stephen's departure, the despised +Tony occupied an important place in his mind. He would have laughed to +scorn anyone who had suggested such a thing. But down deep in his heart, +small and narrow though it was, dwelt considerable unrest. "What had the +lad come back for?" he asked himself over and over again. "What was the +special business which brought him so unexpectedly? Did he know anything?" +Harrington's face twitched as he thought of these things. He strode up and +down in the store. Once he paused before the safe standing in the corner, +and looked long and thoughtfully upon it. A muttered curse escaped his +lips. This was succeeded by a scornful laugh. "What a fool I am!" he +exclaimed, "to worry about sich things! What is thar to find out? Let 'em +do their best and be damned! We'll see who holds the stoutest and longest +rope. That Steve Frenelle's a cur, an' I hate 'im. He's jist the one to +stir up trouble. I've suspected 'im all along. He knows too much fer one +of his age. Wait 'till I'm councillor, an' then I'll show 'im a thing or +two." Waggons rattling along the road startled him. He glanced at his +watch. "My! I didn't know 'twas so late; almost time for the meetin'. I +must git ready."</p> + +<p>The big public hall of Glendow was packed to the door. People came from +all over the parish to this political meeting, for lively scenes were +expected. The two candidates opposed to each other were to be there to +discuss various problems of local interest. On the front seat sat Mrs. +Farrington, Eudora and Dick.</p> + +<p>Philip Gadsby was the first speaker. He was a man tall and somewhat thin, +with a kind, thoughtful face. His voice was soft, well modulated, and his +words carefully chosen. There was nothing of the orator about him, in fact +his speech was somewhat of a hesitating nature. But he was possessed of a +convincing manner, and all who were there knew they were listening to a +man who was more than his words, and that what he said he would endeavour +to accomplish to the best of his ability. He spoke about the needs of the +parish, better roads, improvement of the schools, and the efforts which +should be made to form an agricultural society in Glendow, which was +essentially a farming community.</p> + +<p>"Our watchword," he said in conclusion, "should be progress. Look at our +roads. Money is spent upon them every season, but not in an intelligent +way. We find men at times appointed roadmasters who seldom drive over the +highway. Mud and sods are heaped up in the centre in a confused fashion, +late in the fall. Let us do less, do it well, and use more gravel. Look at +our schools. The buildings are old, ill equipped, and sometimes fifty to +sixty children are crowded into one room fitted only to accommodate +twenty, and one teacher to manage all. And we do need an agricultural +society. We are farmers. We need to read, study, meet together and hear +addresses from experts. New methods are employed elsewhere, while we are +behind the times. Yes, we must advance. I have the welfare of the parish +at heart, and whether elected or not I shall still take my part in the +forward movement."</p> + +<p>Often during the speech Gadsby was greeted with cheers and clapping, for +those present realized the effectiveness of what he said, and he sat down +amid great applause.</p> + +<p>It was then that Farrington rose to his feet and mounted the platform. He +had listened to Gadsby's speech with amused tolerance, and occasionally +whispered something to his wife sitting by his side. He was a man +possessed of an abundance of words, and he turned his attention at once +upon the first speaker. Gadsby had made no personal allusion to his +opponent. He simply stated his case and ceased. But not so Farrington. +From the first word he uttered he began to pour forth contempt and +ridicule. He laughed at Gadsby's ideas of progress.</p> + +<p>"I think we're purty well advanced," he shouted. "The schools an' roads +are good enough fer me. Progress means more money, an' more money means +bigger taxes. The children of Glendow are well supplied, an' as fer the +roads they're good enough. As fer an agricultural society--well," and here +he cast a significant look at Gadsby, "them who talk sich things had +better look at their own farms. Before I go out shoutin' about progress I +had better be sure that my own bizness is on a good footin'. I generally +find that sich people spend too much time gaddin' about instid of +attendin' to their own home affairs."</p> + +<p>And thus Farrington talked for over an hour. He wandered off into all +kinds of subjects, made jokes at which the boys laughed, and told funny +stories. He imagined he was putting his hearers in good humour, and he +took their cheers and stamping as signs of approval. But he little knew +what the serious-minded were thinking about. They were slow of speech, but +they were keen observers, and they were mentally comparing the two +candidates before them. Farrington knew nothing of this. He was in a +rollicking, fine humour. He felt pleased with the people for their +apparent approval, but more pleased with himself for the speech he was +making. "I'm real glad to see so many of yez here," he said in conclusion. +"I think nearly all the voters are present, at any rate every family is +represented. Now if any of yez would like to ax a question I shall be glad +fer 'im to do so. I take it that the meetin' is open fer free discussion."</p> + +<p>"Guess I've made a hit," Farrington whispered to his wife as he resumed +his seat by her side. "The people know a good thing when they find it."</p> + +<p>"Ye done well, Si," was the reply. "I'm sartinly proud of ye. Thar's no +doubt now about yer election."</p> + +<p>The clapping and stamping had not ceased ere a man was noticed pushing his +way through the crowd to the front of the hall. As he mounted the platform +the noise suddenly stopped, for all were much surprised to see Stephen +Frenelle standing there. Never before had he been known to do such a +thing, especially at a political meeting. What could he have to say? All +wondered. And Stephen, too, was surprised. He was not accustomed to public +speaking, and shrank from the thought of facing so many people. But he was +very calm now, and in his eyes flashed a light which bespoke danger. In +his right hand he clutched several papers, which all noted. He looked +steadily over the heads of the people before speaking, and an almost +breathless silence ensued.</p> + +<p>"You wonder why I am here," he began at length. "I am not used to the +platform, and only a matter of great importance would ever make me mount +it. The last speaker has given permission for all to ask questions. He has +said that nearly all the voters are here, and that every family is +represented. I will tell you of one voter who is not here, one who on an +occasion like this was generally present. I need hardly mention his name, +for you all know. I now ask why isn't Parson John with us to-night?" He +paused as if for an answer, and looked into the faces before him. "You all +know," he continued, "as well as I do. Because he was actually driven from +the parish. He left it almost a heart-broken man."</p> + +<p>At these words, Farrington sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"What has all this nonsense to do with the election?" he cried. "He's out +of order, an' I appeal to the chairman to stop 'im."</p> + +<p>"Hear! hear!" yelled several. "Go ahead, Steve!" shouted others.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I intend to go ahead," replied the latter. "You will find out, Mr. +Farrington, before I am through the meaning of my words, and perhaps I +will not be the only one out of order. It's more likely to be disorder.</p> + +<p>"I was asking the question when I was interrupted, 'Why was Parson John +driven from the parish?' Because of vile stories which were circulated +about him. And what were those stories? You know as well as I do. I need +not mention them all; of one only shall I speak. When old Billy Fletcher's +house was burned to the ground, and the gold which he was supposed to have +could not be found, what did some say? That Parson John took it. Yes, +that's what they said, and you all know it. I've heard it ever since then. +His friends knew it was a lie, but what could they say? What proof could +they bring forward? I now ask you what became of that gold? It is a secret +no longer. The witness is here," and Stephen held the papers aloft. The +silence which now pervaded the hall was most intense. Every ear was +strained to its utmost, and every eye was fixed full upon that up-lifted +hand.</p> + +<p>"Here is my witness," repeated Stephen, "and I ask the man, the last +speaker, whose name is signed to this paper, to stand up and give us an +explanation."</p> + +<p>During the latter part of this speech, Farrington had turned as white as +death. He sat bolt upright, with his hands clutching convulsively the edge +of the seat. He felt that something terrible was pending, and a horrible, +craven fear overwhelmed him! He knew that paper held up there only too +well. It was simply a sheet of cheap writing-paper, and yet it was his +ruin. It was damning him as a scoundrel and a sneak in the presence of +these people!</p> + +<p>"Cannot the last speaker explain how his name happens to be here and what +he knows about that gold?"</p> + +<p>These words fell like the knell of doom upon Farrington's ears. What was +he to do? But something must be done.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" he gasped. "What d'ye want me to explain?"</p> + +<p>"About this writing."</p> + +<p>"What writin', an' whar did ye git any writin' of mine? It's some mean +trick!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "This villain has come here fer +the purpose of injurin' me! I tell ye it's false! it's false!"</p> + +<p>"But what about this?" Stephen insisted, calmly holding up one of the +papers. "And there are others."</p> + +<p>"What is it? What is it? Read it, Steve," came the cry from the audience.</p> + +<p>"I say it's false!" shouted Farrington, springing again to his feet, his +face blanched with terror. "It's a mean trick! Put the villain out! Will +ye let an honest man be put upon in this way?"</p> + +<p>"Read the paper, Steve," urged several. "Let's know what's the matter. We +don't understand this fuss."</p> + +<p>Farrington made a pathetic figure as he stood there uncertain what to do. +He knew he was in a trap, but he had not the moral courage to stand up and +face the worst like a man. Had he done so there were many who would have +pitied him. But he blustered and raved and threatened what he would do.</p> + +<p>"If that man will be still for a few minutes," said Stephen, "I shall tell +you what these papers contain."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Farrington!" came a general yell. "We'll hear you later."</p> + +<p>"Now," began Stephen. "I shall read this one first. It is not long.</p> + +<p>"'To-day October 30, 18-- I placed the sum of $5,000 in gold in Silas +Farrington's safe for him to keep until called for. The money is locked in +a stout, iron box marked with a cross with white paint. I do not like +banks--they are not to be depended upon, and are always failing. This +seems to be the best place to put my money. I am to give Mr. Farrington +one dollar a month for the use of the safe. 'WILLIAM FLETCHER.'"</p> + +<p>As Stephen finished the reading, a movement took place among the people +and angry, threatening words were interchanged.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" yelled Farrington. "It's made up to ruin me! Will ye believe +sich a story?"</p> + +<p>"Just wait a minute," continued Stephen, holding forth another small piece +of paper. Here is further evidence which might be of some service. Listen +to this.</p> + +<p>"'Glendow, Friday, Oct. 30th, 18-- Received from William Fletcher, the sum +of $5,000 in gold, in an iron box, to be kept for him in trust in my safe +until called for, he promising to pay me one dollar a month for the use of +my safe. 'SILAS FARRINGTON.'"</p> + +<p>An intense silence now reigned in the hall. All were waiting to see what +would happen next. It was the calm before the storm. The people were more +than surprised, they were dumfounded at this sudden turn of events. The +purpose of the meeting was forgotten. Then one wild cry went up. There was +confusion everywhere, all talking and shouting at once. At this the +chairman rose to his feet, and held up his hand for peace. Gradually the +commotion subsided, and all waited to hear what he had to say.</p> + +<p>"We are much astonished at what has happened," he began. "It is a very +serious matter. These papers are of a most damaging nature to one of the +candidates here to-night. He has emphatically denied the statements made +therein. But we demand further proof. Let him now come forward and speak. +Perhaps he can explain matters fully."</p> + +<p>"Hear! Hear!" came from every part of the building.</p> + +<p>Half dazed and trembling, Farrington staggered forward, and grasped the +back of a chair for support.</p> + +<p>"It's a lie, I tell ye!" he shouted. "But I want to ax one question. Whar +did them papers come from? Ye all know very well that everything was +burned which old Billy had in the house. Not a scrap of anything was left, +and how did them papers escape? That's proof enough to show what a mean +trick has been played upon me. I am the one to ax fer an explanation."</p> + +<p>"That shall be granted at once," Stephen replied, and in a few words he +told of Tony Stickles' arrival, their search beneath the large +hearth-stone, and the discovery of the iron box containing the valuable +papers.</p> + +<p>"Tony is here," said Stephen in conclusion, "and if you do not believe me, +ask him."</p> + +<p>But there was no need for Tony's witness. The evidence was already strong +enough, and the people were aroused.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farrington," said the chairman, motioning the audience to be quiet. +"If you have that gold in your safe, it will save considerable trouble if +you produce it at once. If it is there and you have kept silence and +allowed that man of God to suffer, you deserve the severest punishment. Is +it the wish of the people here that the safe should be opened?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay!" came like a roar of thunder.</p> + +<p>"Ye can't do it!" yelled Farrington, rising to his feet. "It's my private +property, an' I defy anyone to touch my safe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll not touch it," the chairman coolly remarked. "We'll not lay +hands on it. All we ask you to do is to throw open the door and show us +what's inside."</p> + +<p>"It ain't lawful, I say," shouted the desperate man.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it isn't lawful. But we'll attend to that, I reckon. Sometimes +people take the law into their own hands, and I guess that's what we'll do +to-night. In my opinion there's not a judge or a jury in the whole land +but would support our action. Come now, you'd better do as we desire at +once."</p> + +<p>Farrington, excited though he was, found it necessary to do some rapid +thinking. He knew he could not delay that angry assembly much longer. One +hope only remained, and upon this he acted.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he replied, "I might as well go at once. Come when you like, +you kin examine everything in the safe. I'm not afeer'd fer ye to look."</p> + +<p>He took a step or two forward with the intention of leaving.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," said the chairman. "Don't be in too big a hurry. We'll go +along with you. It's always good to have company on such occasions."</p> + +<p>"I don't want anyone," snapped Farrington, turning angrily upon him.</p> + +<p>"No, I know you don't. But we're not considering your feelings just now."</p> + +<p>"Then, I'll not go! Do what you like with me!" and Farrington sank back +upon the seat, a pitiable bundle of wretched humanity.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_27"></a>Chapter XXVII</h1> + +<h2>In the Toils</h2> + + + +<p>During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained +motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great +rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a +way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was +changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited +condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but +thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours +would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How +the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing +the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had +he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which +took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman +ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his +safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave +one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor.</p> + +<p>At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through +the crowd into the open air.</p> + +<p>Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the +seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through +with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night. +Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?"</p> + +<p>No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very +well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?"</p> + +<p>"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a +number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now. +They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an +innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington +committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in +this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months, +stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the +bounds of reason.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him.</p> + +<p>"Will you come, then?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door, +he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and +almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the +road. The store was reached.</p> + +<p>"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it."</p> + +<p>This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building.</p> + +<p>"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there."</p> + +<p>But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man +who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to +the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from +the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his +gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for +their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only +between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused. +How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his +forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body.</p> + +<p>"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around.</p> + +<p>A yell was the only response to his appeal.</p> + +<p>"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a +coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands +outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go +up to the first limb."</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long +piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out +the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure +would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in +this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the +noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe. +With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination +would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and +more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality +he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length +the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron +hinges.</p> + +<p>"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman.</p> + +<p>One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back +corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark +upon it.</p> + +<p>A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of +derision.</p> + +<p>"Order!" commanded the chairman.</p> + +<p>"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y-es."</p> + +<p>"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame +for stealing it?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I +was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything."</p> + +<p>There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear +did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the +sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then +a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried +forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place, +making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors +flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar +used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and +the odour was pouring forth.</p> + +<p>"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help! +Murder!"</p> + +<p>But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his +clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered +feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless. +He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very +ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were +handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they +watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair.</p> + +<p>When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped +out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main +store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It +had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and +cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding +feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he +presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and +feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing +what to expect.</p> + +<p>"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house, +"and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for +yourself and family."</p> + +<p>As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood +back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store +to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes +could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at +length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep +sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with +Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did +not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective +remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in righteous +indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the cat-o'-nine-tails +or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in accordance with the +British Constitution it is certainly the most effective way of dealing +with some mean, contemptible cases. And Farrington's was one of them. With +clever legal counsel he might be able to prove that he was acting within +his right in holding the money "until called for," according to the +wording of the paper he had signed, while the real motive that prompted +him to keep silence might not be considered at all.</p> + +<p>Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried +home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left +for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair +and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been +suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness. +He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned +how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see +her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so +unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was +she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was +unbearable without her sweet, loving presence.</p> + +<p>At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to +sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might +his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man, +with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why +should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as +soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once? +Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole +softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and +turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of +paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his +mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to +find it in the morning.</p> + +<p>Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn. +His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in +resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of +the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as +Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then +the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider +sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_28"></a>Chapter XXVIII</h1> + +<h2>Waiting and Serving</h2> + + + +<p>"I feel completely side-tracked now. Life moves forward, but here I am a +useless burden."</p> + +<p>It was Parson John who spoke, as he leaned back in an easy-chair and gazed +dreamily out of the window.</p> + +<p>Nellie laid down the book she had been reading aloud and looked anxiously +at her father. This was the third day they had been at Morristown, and it +was the first time her father had uttered any word of complaint. The +change had been restful, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been +so many things to see and to talk about with his brother that he hardly +missed the separation from Glendow. A sense of glad freedom had been his. +There was no responsibility of parish work, and no long, tiresome drives +ahead. He need not worry about sermons for the following Sunday, nor feel +concerned for any who might be sick. It was a luxury to sit there quietly +in the large, airy room with the fresh breath of spring pervading the +place, and to watch the trees putting forth their tender leaves and the +fields donning their robe of green, yellow and white. Occasionally Nellie +read to him from some favourite author, although much of her time was +taken up helping her aunt with various household duties. The change which +she beheld in her father caused her much joy. "It is just what he needs," +she thought. "A good rest will restore him more than anything else." So +now on this bright afternoon to hear him complain of being side-tracked, +of no use in the world, worried her.</p> + +<p>"You must remember, father dear," she replied, "it is well to be +side-tracked sometimes. Engines are often laid by for repairs, and I have +heard you say that we need rest that mind and body might be strengthened."</p> + +<p>"True, very true, Nellie. But I seem to be useless. There are so many +things to be done, and but little time in which to do them. When one has +been engaged in a work for over thirty years it is not easy to lay it +suddenly aside. It becomes part of one's life. Some may think that rest is +sitting still and doing nothing. But to me such a thought is terrible. +'Rest,' as a great poet has well said, 'is not quitting life's busy +career. Rest is the fitting of self to one's sphere!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, but did not blind old Milton say that 'They also serve who +only stand and wait.'"</p> + +<p>"But how am I serving, Nellie? What is there for me to do here? I sit all +day long and think, while others serve me."</p> + +<p>"Father," Nellie replied after a brief silence, "I believe a stroll would +do you good. You have been staying in the house too much. I have +discovered some very pleasant walks out from the village, and, if it will +not weary you, suppose we start off now."</p> + +<p>Her father looked up quickly at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Capital!" he exclaimed. "It's just what I need. I am becoming too moody, +and the fresh air will revive me."</p> + +<p>He was almost like a child now in his eagerness to be off. With his stout +cane in one hand, and leaning upon his daughter's arm, he moved slowly +along the dry road, through the village and out into the country where the +houses were few.</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is life, grand, true life!" and he stood for a few minutes +looking far away across the broad fields. The air laden with the freshness +of spring drifted about them; the birds flitting overhead were pouring +forth their joyous music, while on every side early flowers were lifting +their tiny heads. All nature seemed to combine to give a glad welcome to +these two wayfarers.</p> + +<p>At length, coming to a cross road, Nellie paused.</p> + +<p>"Look, father," and she pointed to a large tree near by. "What a cool, +shady spot! Suppose we rest there for a while, and I will read some from +the little book I have brought with me."</p> + +<p>Willingly Mr. Westmore conceded to her wish, and soon they were snugly +seated on the grassy sward. With his back against the tree, Parson John +breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead +with a large, white handkerchief.</p> + +<p>So absorbed did they both become in the book that neither noticed the +black clouds which had been gathering away to the south, and were now +rolling up fearful and threatening beneath the sun. A distant peal of +thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning, startled them.</p> + +<p>"A storm is coming!" exclaimed Nellie, springing to her feet. "We must +hurry home at once! The road to the right is shorter. I know it quite +well; we had better take that."</p> + +<p>They had not proceeded far, however, before the peals of thunder became +more intense, and soon large drops of rain came spattering down.</p> + +<p>"We're in for a heavy storm," panted Mr. Westmore. "It's about to burst +upon us. We must seek shelter!"</p> + +<p>"There's a house right ahead," Nellie replied. "Perhaps we can get in +there."</p> + +<p>They plodded on in silence now, and turned in at a little gate none too +soon. Scarcely had they entered the small porch in front of the house ere +the storm broke. Hail, mingled with rain, came thundering down upon the +roof, and, dashing against the glass, threatened to smash in every pane. +The thunder crashed and shook the house, while the lightning streaked the +air with blinding flashes.</p> + +<p>"This is terrible!" exclaimed Nellie, clinging to her father's arm, her +face very white. "We must get into the house!"</p> + +<p>They knocked upon the door, but received no response. Again they rapped +louder than before, and at length a key was slowly turned and a woman, +neatly dressed and fair to look upon, peered timidly forth. A relieved +look came into her face as she saw the two standing there.</p> + +<p>"Come in," she said, giving a little nervous laugh. "This fearful storm +has quite overcome me."</p> + +<p>She led the way into a cosy sitting-room, and offered her visitors chairs.</p> + +<p>"You will pardon our intrusion, I am sure," explained Mr. Westmore. "We +came simply for shelter. We are much obliged to you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir," replied the woman. "I am so glad you came. I am alone +with the children, and they are all much frightened."</p> + +<p>"And your husband is away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's been gone all winter. He was working in the woods for Rodgers & +Peterson, and is now on the drive."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! it must be hard for you to have him away so much."</p> + +<p>"It is, sir. But he will stay home after this. He has earned enough this +winter to make the last payment on our farm. We have been struggling for +years, saving every cent and working hard to get the place free from debt, +and now it will be our very own if--if--," and the woman hesitated.</p> + +<p>"How glad your husband will be to be home," said Nellie, with her eyes +fixed upon several bright little faces in the doorway. "He must long to +see you all."</p> + +<p>"Ay, indeed he does, but especially Doris. She is our invalid girl, you +see, and is very dear to us. She can't romp and play like the others, and +I suppose for that reason she appeals to us the more."</p> + +<p>"Has she been ill long?" questioned Mr. Westmore, becoming now much +interested.</p> + +<p>"For five years. It's hip disease, and she will never walk without a +crutch, if she does then. Perhaps you would like to see her."</p> + +<p>They were conducted into a small bedroom, and the sight which met their +eyes moved them both. Lying on the bed was a girl of about fifteen years +of age, with a sweet, fair face, large, expressive eyes, and a high +forehead crowned by a wealth of jet-black hair, parted in the middle and +combed back with considerable care. The room was as neat and clean as +loving hands could make it. A bright smile illumined the girl's face, +which Nellie thought the most beautiful she had ever looked upon.</p> + +<p>"It's so good of you to come to see me," she said. "Very few come, and I +do get lonely at times."</p> + +<p>"You will be glad when your father comes home, will you not?" Nellie +remarked, taking the girl's thin, white hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it will be delightful! He has been away so long. Let me see," and she +counted on her fingers. "He has not been home since Christmas."</p> + +<p>"But he writes to you, though?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, such lovely letters, all about his work. But the last one was so +sad. I have cried over it many times. I have it right here. Would you like +to read it? It's so interesting."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you tell us about it, dear," said Mr. Westmore, taking a chair by +the side of the bed. "That will be better."</p> + +<p>The girl's face flushed a little, and she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't tell it half as well as father does in his letter. You +know, the men were bringing the logs down Big Creek Brook, and they all +got stuck in a nasty place called Giant Gorge. One big log in some way, I +don't understand, stopped the rest, and it had to be cut out. It was a +dangerous thing to do, and the men drew lots to see who would go down into +that awful place. And just think, papa drew the paper with the mark upon +it, which meant that he was to do it! I shudder and cry every time I think +about it. Well, as dear papa was about to go, a young man, Tony Stickles, +sprang forward and said he would go, because papa had six children and a +wife who needed him. Wasn't that lovely of him? I should like to see him. +And just think, before papa could stop him he sprang upon the logs, cut +away the one which held the rest, and all rushed down right on top of him. +Papa said he was sure Tony would be killed, but he jumped from one log to +another, and when all thought he would get to the shore, the logs opened +and he fell into the water. Then something wonderful happened, so papa +said. As Tony was clinging there a boy suddenly came along, jumped upon +the logs, ran over them, and pulled Tony out just in time. But a log hit +the poor little boy, and Tony had to carry him ashore. Don't you think +that's a lovely story, and weren't they both very brave, real heroes like +you read about in books? Oh, I lie here hour by hour and think it all +over!"</p> + +<p>The girl's face was quite flushed now, for she had spoken hurriedly, and +her eyes shone brighter than ever. She was living the scene she related.</p> + +<p>"What a nice story you have told us," Nellie replied when Doris had +finished. "I am glad to hear what a brave deed Tony did, for we both know +him."</p> + +<p>"What! you know him?" cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very well. Ever since he was a baby."</p> + +<p>"How nice it must be to know a real hero!" sighed the girl. "Please tell +me about him."</p> + +<p>And there in the little room Nellie told about Tony, his mother, brothers +and sisters, to which Doris listened most eagerly.</p> + +<p>"We must go now," said Mr. Westmore rising to his feet and looking out of +the window. "The storm has cleared and the sun is shining brightly."</p> + +<p>"But you will both come again, won't you?" Doris inquired as she held out +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you want us to do so," Nellie replied. "But we don't wish to tire +you."</p> + +<p>"You won't tire me. I long for someone to talk to, and you know so much."</p> + +<p>Parson John had now left the room, and Nellie was holding the girl's hand. +She glanced at the door to make sure that her father could not hear, then +she bent over the bed.</p> + +<p>"Did your father tell you the name of that boy who saved Tony's life?"</p> + +<p>"No. He said he didn't know."</p> + +<p>"Did he say what he was doing there?"</p> + +<p>"No, only he had a funny little letter for Tony. It was in his pocket, and +when they opened it a small rose fell out."</p> + +<p>"And he didn't say what the letter was about?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear, I must go now," and as Nellie stooped down and gave the +girl a kiss, Doris suddenly clasped her arms about her neck.</p> + +<p>"I love you! I love you!" she murmured. "You are so beautiful and good! +Come soon, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, to-morrow, perhaps," and as Nellie left the room her eyes were +moist with the tears she found impossible to restrain.</p> + +<p>As she walked along the wet road by her father's side her mind was busy +thinking over what she had just heard. Who was that boy? He must be a +stranger to that place, and what was the letter about? Could it be Dan? +How often had she and her father talked about the boy. They believed that +he would come back some day. Suddenly there flashed into her mind the +persistent efforts Dan had made to write a letter, and how he had time and +time again asked her the way to spell certain words. She had thought +little about it then, but now she remembered that one of the words was +"Tony." Her father looked up in surprise as Nellie paused, and clutched +his arm more firmly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, dear?" he asked. "Are you tired? Perhaps we are +walking too fast."</p> + +<p>"No, father," and Nellie gave a little laugh. "I was Only thinking, and my +thoughts run away with me sometimes. But I am glad we are almost home, for +the walking is heavy and our shoes are covered with mud. See that +beautiful rainbow, father!"</p> + +<p>They both stood still for a few minutes, and looked upon the grand arch +spanning the heavens and resting upon earth.</p> + +<p>"The bow of promise, Nellie," said Mr. Westmore. "It appears to-day, the +same as of old, to remind us all that 'His mercies still endure, ever +faithful, ever sure.'"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's a sign to us, father, that our storm has past, and the sun +will break forth again." "It may be true, child. God grant it so," and +Mr. Westmore sighed as he turned in at the gate leading to his brother's +house.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_29"></a>Chapter XXIX</h1> + +<h2>Rifted Clouds</h2> + + + +<p>Again the next day they both visited the invalid girl. Nellie read to her, +while Parson John sat and listened. They were becoming firm friends now, +and Doris chatted unreservedly.</p> + +<p>"I shall tell papa all about you," she said. "I have a letter almost +finished, and shall mail it to-night. How I wish you could see him."</p> + +<p>All through the day Dan had been much in Nellie's mind. The idea which had +come to her the evening before was growing stronger. She believed it was +Dan and no other who had rescued Tony. It was just like him, and she +thought of the afternoon he had saved her and her cousin on the river. +Should she tell her father? That was the question which she debated with +herself hour after hour, and when they returned from their visit to Doris, +she had not yet decided.</p> + +<p>That evening she strolled out of the house, and down the road leading to a +little brook. The air was balmy and fresh, and this was her favourite +walk. Trees lined the way, stern old oaks, beeches and maples--the grove +on her uncle's farm, the place where people came for miles to hold +picnics.</p> + +<p>As Nellie walked along her thoughts turned often to Glendow. She wondered +what Stephen was doing, and if his logs were rafted. She missed him +greatly. They had been so much together, had grown up as children, but not +until this separation had she fully realized what he meant to her. She +thought of the night he had come to tell about Nora and to say good-bye. +Her face flushed, and a sweet peace came into her heart as she dwelt upon +Stephen's manner that night--his confusion--his stammering words--and the +burning kiss upon her hand. She stood on the little bridge now, in the +quiet dusk of even, leaning against the railing and looking pensively down +into the shallow water below. Suddenly she raised her hand and pressed it +again and again to her lips--the same hand which Stephen had kissed.</p> + +<p>A step upon the bridge startled her, and her heart beat fast. Had anyone +seen what she did? She thought she was alone, but somebody was coming. She +turned away her flushed face, and gazed down into the water, leaning her +arms upon the railing. The steps drew nearer. They were opposite her, and +soon they would pass. Some neighbour, no doubt, going home. If he had seen +her action he would tell others, and soon every person around would know. +Presently the steps paused. The silence frightened her. It was dusk; no +house in sight, and she was alone. Quickly she faced about, and there +standing before her was Stephen. A cry of surprise escaped her, and the +next instant she felt his strong arms about her and his lips fervently +pressing her own.</p> + +<p>"Stephen!" she cried, struggling to free Herself. "How dare you! When did +you come?"</p> + +<p>"Just from home, and was resting under that big tree," Stephen replied +still holding her tenderly. "I dared much after I saw what you did a few +minutes ago. Oh, Nellie, Nellie. I have been waiting long for this moment! +Surely, surely you are mine at last!"</p> + +<p>The flush had left Nellie's face now, leaving it very white, though in the +deepening twilight this was not noticeable. Her heart was beating +tumultuously, and a new feeling of peace and rest was stealing over her. +How powerful seemed the man standing there. So long had she been called +upon to be strong, always helping, ever taking such a responsible place in +life, caring for her father, strengthening him in his work--and upon her +he depended. But now to feel that she could give herself up to another, +one who had passed through a stern fight in the strength of his sturdy +young manhood, and had come forth as victor. Yet mingling with this +new-found joy came the thought of the dark shadow hanging over her +father's life. How could she be happy when he was in trouble? For his sake +she had kept the brave spirit and presented only the bright sunny face, +and cheery words of hope. The tension for weeks, nay months, had been a +severe strain--and now this sudden joy! It unnerved her. Words would not +come to Stephen's passionate pleading, but in their stead tears stole down +her cheeks, while her form trembled with convulsive sobs.</p> + +<p>Stephen started in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nellie! Nellie!" he cried. "What have I done! Forgive me! I did not mean +to hurt you! I thought you would understand. If you only knew how I love +you--if you only----"</p> + +<p>"I know it, Stephen--I know it. I am very foolish. Please forgive me. I +cannot explain these tears--they come unbidden."</p> + +<p>"Then you're not unhappy, Nellie? You are not cross with me?"</p> + +<p>"Cross, dear Stephen, no. I am so happy, very happy. But why should I he +happy when my father is in trouble? How dare I! Is it right?"</p> + +<p>"Then you love me, Nellie! Oh, speak the word--let me hear it from your +own lips!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Stephen, I do love you, don't you know it? I am yours, your very +own."</p> + +<p>"Thank God! thank God!" he cried, drawing her closer to him, and kissing +her again and again. She did not resist now, but allowed him to hold her +there while he breathed into her ear his sweet words of love. They were no +studied, well-rounded phrases, but such as leaped from a true, noble +heart, and the woman listening knew their worth.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you write to me, Stephen?" Nellie whispered, "and tell me you +were coming? I have been worried lately, and it would have been something +to look forward to."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I was coming until this morning," came the reply.</p> + +<p>"Didn't know?"</p> + +<p>"No--I left in the night."</p> + +<p>"This is more mysterious than ever."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I left very early this morning, and should have been here by the +middle of the afternoon, but Dexter threw a shoe about five miles back. I +had to leave him at a farm, and walk the remainder of the way. I was +resting by the bridge when you came along. I was quite put out to think I +had to tramp that distance and be so late. But now I know it was for the +best. Doesn't everything turn out right, Nellie?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y--es, some things do," was the reluctant reply. "This has, anyway, and +I try to believe that all things concerning my poor father will come out +right, too. I think we had better go to him now and tell him of our +happiness. It may brighten him up a bit."</p> + +<p>Side by side they walked slowly along the road, and Stephen told the whole +story of Tony's return, the hidden box, the political meeting, the +discovery of the gold in the safe, and Farrington's ignominious +punishment.</p> + +<p>They had reached the house by the time he had finished, and stood for a +moment on the doorstep before entering. In Nellie's heart was such a joy +that words would not come to her lips. She felt she must be asleep, and +would awake to find it only an unsubstantial dream. But Stephen's arm +around her, and his strong presence near, assured her that it was a +blessed reality.</p> + +<p>They found Mr. Westmore sitting alone in his little room, reading by the +shaded lamp. He glanced quickly up and was surprised to see Stephen +standing by Nellie's side. He saw the look of rapture upon their faces, +and read at once the meaning of it all, and into his own weary face came a +light which Nellie had not seen in many a day. She tried to speak, but +words failed, and moving quickly forward she threw her arms about her +father's neck, and kissed him fervently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, I am so happy!" she whispered. "Do you know? Can you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling," he replied. "I do understand. Come near, Stephen, my son," +and as the young man approached, he joined their hands, and bade them to +kneel before him. Then stretching out his hand over the bowed heads, and +in a voice trembling with emotion, he gave them his benediction. "May the +Lord bless you and keep you," he said. "May the Lord make His face to +shine upon you, and be gracious unto you, and keep you true to Him and to +each other unto your lives' end."</p> + +<p>Sitting by Mr. Westmore's side that evening, Stephen told the story he had +recently related to Nellie. Parson John sat straight upright in his chair, +and his eyes never once left Stephen's face.</p> + +<p>"And do you tell me!" he cried, when the latter ceased, "that Dan is +injured--lying unconscious?"</p> + +<p>"He was when Tony left."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear boy! and he did it all for me!" murmured the parson. "What a +sacrifice to make of his bright young life I I must go to him, Nellie, at +once! In the morning! Poor Dan! Poor Dan!"</p> + +<p>Thus the three sat for some time talking of the accident and planning for +the journey. Not once did Mr. Westmore speak about the recovery of the +gold, but that night in the quietness of his own room he poured out his +soul, in a great, fervent prayer of thankfulness to the Father above, and +also he sought His aid on behalf of a little wounded lad lying on a bed of +pain in a farm-house miles away.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_30"></a>Chapter XXX</h1> + +<h2>Beneath the Surface</h2> + + + +<p>Across the mouth of Big Creek stream a long double boom cradled the large +"R & P" drive. The last log had shot safely down the crooked brook and +rested calmly by the side of its companions. There were thousands of them +there, scarred and battered by rock and flood; worthy veterans were they, +this hardy army of the forest, reposing now after their fierce, mad +charge.</p> + +<p>The work of the drivers was done, and the last peevy had been tossed with +a resounding thud among its companions. A score of men were they who for +months had been confined to the lonely life of the woods, and who for days +had often been face to face with death. Naturally their eyes turned +towards the river some distance away. There on its bank nestled the little +town, and there, too, stood the Flood Gate Tavern, the most notorious +place in the whole countryside. How often during the winter evenings had +they talked of the many wild scenes which had been enacted there, and of +the wages of months squandered in a night. Though they talked about the +place and cursed it, yet, like moths singed by the candle's flame, they +had returned spring after spring to the Hood Gate Tavern to spend the +wages needed at home. Their money, too, was awaiting them there in the +Company's office. But now they hesitated. Never before had such a thing +been known. Formerly there was a rush to the town when the last log had +come in.</p> + +<p>It was evening as the men stood there, and the sun was hanging low far in +the west. The yearning for the tavern was strong--it called, it appealed +to them. But another power was holding these rugged drivers in check. +Their hearts had been much stirred these last few days, although not one +acknowledged it. A little helpless, suffering child was unconsciously +restraining the brute nature within them. He was holding them in leash, +binding them by strange, invisible cords. In silence they ate their supper +in the rafting house near by.</p> + +<p>"Boys," said Jake Purdy as the men sat outside smoking. "I'm goin' down +town to see if there's any mail. Any of ye comin'?"</p> + +<p>It was all that was needed, and at once every man responded. Down the road +they marched, their great boots making a heavy thud as they moved along. +Into the post office they tramped, and stood around while the few letters +were doled out. For Jake, there was one, written by a child's trembling +hand. Eagerly he opened it, and, as he read, his face underwent a +remarkable change. The rugged lines softened, and when he turned to the +men waiting for him, there was no gruffness in his voice.</p> + +<p>"'Spose we git our money, lads, an' hike back," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," was the response, but in several hearts there was a keen longing +to remain.</p> + +<p>Right in front of the Company's office stood the Flood Gate Tavern. The +proprietor had been expecting the drivers and was well stocked up. He saw +them coming into town and watched them enter the office for their money.</p> + +<p>"They'll be here soon, Joe," he said to his assistant, "an' mind ye don't +let an opportunity slip. Them bottles must go tonight. I know there'll be +lively times about here. Them d--n temperance workers are dead set agin +us, an' it looks as if they'd make trouble. But we'll win out tonight, and +they can go to ----. Say, here they come. Now for the time--an' money. Oh, +they're jist achin' to give me their wages. They won't forgit old Ned, +that's sure. Ha, ha!" and the saloon-keeper rubbed his hands with glee.</p> + +<p>The drivers were outside the office now, and were casting furtive glances +across the way. Big Jake saw the looks and knew the longing which dwelt in +their hearts. He drew forth his pipe, stuck his little finger deliberately +into the bowl to see how much tobacco it contained.</p> + +<p>"Boys," he began, "have yez anything on fer the night?"</p> + +<p>"No," came the somewhat surly response, "unless we go over there."</p> + +<p>"Don't go," said Jake. "We've spent too much there in past years. Let's +save our money fer them wot needs it at home. Let me tell ye somethin'. +Comin' down the road from the boom to-night I felt like seven devils. I +was jist longin' to git into that saloon an' have a big drink. But as luck +'ud have it I went into the post office first, an' found this here letter. +An' who is it from, d'ye think? From me own little sick lassie at home. +Look at the writin', boys. Ain't it fine? An' what a letter it is. She +says she's waitin' fer me, an' counts the days until I come. Listen to +these words: 'Don't go near the saloon, papa. Come straight home, an' +bring the money to pay fer the farm. I pray fer you every day, papa, an' I +pray fer all the men on the drive, and fer that poor little boy who got +hurt.' Ain't them great words, boys?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," came the reply, and into several hearts throbbed a desire to be +stronger men, and a few brushed their sleeves across their eyes.</p> + +<p>"But that ain't all," Jake continued. "She says that little boy wot got +hurt belongs to an old man--a parson--an' his beautiful daughter, who have +been good to her. They didn't know where the little boy was, but when they +found out they was all upsot, an' left in a hurry, but stopped in to say +good-bye to my little Doris. That was two days ago, and they must be up +there at Big Sam's now. Boys, let me tell ye this: Anyone who is good to +my little sick lass is good to me, an' Jake Purdy isn't a man to fergit; +yez know that. Now I have a suggestion to make. Instead of spendin' our +hard-earned money with that old wretch, Ned, let's go up in a body to the +house an' inquire fer the sick lad. We can't do nuthin', I know, but mebbe +it'll please the old man an' his daughter to know that we ain't fergotten +the brave little boy. An' come to think further it's no mor'n our duty. +That lad saved one of us from death, an' the one that was saved, saved me. +Boys, ye can do as yez like, but I'm goin' anyway."</p> + +<p>There was no hesitation now among these men. With one accord they turned +their backs upon the village, and struck along the road leading out into +the country. Old Ned, the saloon-keeper, watched them in amazement. Never +before had they done such a thing. What would become of all the whisky in +those bottles standing on the shelves?</p> + +<p>"The idiots!" he yelled. "What's the matter with 'em?"</p> + +<p>Bareheaded he rushed out into the street and lifted up his voice.</p> + +<p>"Hi! hi!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>The drivers paused and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" panted Ned running up to where they were standing.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, old man?" questioned one.</p> + +<p>"Wrong! What's wrong with you? Why are ye leavin' without droppin' in to +see me? Surely ye ain't goin' to go away without a friendly call?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Ned," replied Jake, acting as spokesman for the others, "we've +made too many friendly calls at your place fer our own good. This year +we're goin' to cut it out. So go home an' don't interfere."</p> + +<p>Had the saloon-keeper been less excited he would have noticed the warning +note in Jake's voice, and the sombre looks of the rest. They were in no +mood for interruption at the present time. But Ned was blind to all this.</p> + +<p>"Ye fools!" he roared, stamping on the ground in his rage. "Will ye let +all that good stuff spile down yonder? Surely ye ain't gone an' jined the +temperance gang, an' took the pledge?"</p> + +<p>Fiercely Jake turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Ned," and his voice was laden with meaning, "will ye go home an' leave us +alone?"</p> + +<p>"No, h----if I will, unless ye all come back with me."</p> + +<p>Jake's eyes turned suddenly to the right. They rested upon a pond of dirty +water several feet deep lying there. Like a flash he reached out and +caught the saloon-keeper in both hands, lifted him clear of the ground, +carried him wriggling and cursing to the edge, and tossed him in like a +ball. With a splash and a yell Ned went under, came up puffing and +blowing, and dashing the water from his eyes and ears. A shout of derision +went up from the drivers.</p> + +<p>"Go home now, Ned," they cried. "You've soaked us fer years with yer +stuff, an' you've got soaked now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>With that they continued on their way, leaving the victim to scramble out +of the pond and make his way home, beaten and crestfallen.</p> + +<p>Along the road the drivers marched, then up the hill leading to Big Sam's +abode. It was dim twilight as they stood before the house. The evening was +balmy, and the front door stood partly open. For a minute they hesitated, +and a whispered conversation ensued.</p> + +<p>"You go in, Jake. You've got a tongue fer sich things," suggested his +companions.</p> + +<p>But before a reply could be made there floated out upon the air a sweet +voice singing an old familiar hymn. Instinctively every driver pulled off +his rough hat, and bowed his shaggy head. It was a woman's voice they +heard, low and tender. There was a pleading note in the singer's voice--the cry of a soul for help in trouble.</p> + +<p>Little did Nellie realize as she sat by Dan's side this evening, and sang, +that she had such attentive listeners. The past two days had been a time +of much anxiety. When first she and her father had arrived, Dan did not +know them. He was lying upon the bed, his little curly head resting upon +the pillow as white as his own white face. Would he ever come out of that +stupor? they asked each other time and time again as they sat and watched +him. Often he talked, calling aloud for help, and pleading for someone to +hurry. Now it was of Tony and again Nellie and Parson John. Occasionally +he mentioned his father, and asked why he was so long in coming. The +doctor stood by the bedside with an anxious face.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he will recover?" Nellie asked.</p> + +<p>"I can't say," was the reply. "He has been badly injured. But we should +know soon one way or the other. This condition can't go on much longer."</p> + +<p>It was hard for Nellie to persuade her father to take any rest. He would +insist upon sitting by the bed, and holding Dan's hand.</p> + +<p>"Poor, dear boy," he murmured. "Why did you do it? Why did you run such a +risk for my sake?"</p> + +<p>Once coming quietly into the room Nellie saw her father kneeling by the +bedside. His lips were moving in silent prayer. In his heart a deep love +had been formed for this little wounded lad. For months past the two had +been much together, and the bond of affection had been strongly formed. At +length Nellie had persuaded her father to take some rest. He had cast one +long, searching look upon the boy's face, and then silently left the room. +For some time Nellie sat by Dan's side watching his fitful breathing. One +little hand lay outside the quilt. Would it ever work for her again? she +wondered. It was a brown hand--the same hand which had reached over and +drawn Tony from death. As she sat there the door was quietly pushed open, +and Marion stood before her. Her eyes looked towards the bed with a +questioning appeal. In her right hand she clutched a little rose. It was +the first time she had been in the sick room, and on this evening while +her mother was busy she had softly stolen away.</p> + +<p>"Give dis to ittle sick boy," she said. "He like pitty woses."</p> + +<p>"Come here, dear," Nellie replied, and as the child approached she took +the flower, and placed the stem in Dan's doubled-up hand. She did it +merely to please Marion, but it thrilled her own heart to behold the +little maiden's sweet offering lying in that poor, nerveless fist. "God +bless you, darling," she said, drawing Marion to her. "You love the sick +boy, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Me love him," came the response, "an' me lore oo. Will Dod make him +better?"</p> + +<p>"God will do what is best, dearie. You will pray for him, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Me pray for him every night. Will oo sing to Dod to make him better?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish me to sing?"</p> + +<p>"When I'm sick my mamma sings to Dod. I fink He hears better dat way, an' +I det better. Will oo sing?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish me to, I will."</p> + +<p>"Let me det in oor lap den," and Marion, climbing up, made herself +perfectly at home.</p> + +<p>Nellie was not in a singing mood this evening, but the child's words had +touched her. She thought they were alone--just two, to hear. Verse after +verses she sang, and as she reached the chorus of the last verse she gave +a start of surprise, suddenly ceased, and looked towards the door. A +number of men's voices had taken up the chorus, and they were singing, not +loud, but as softly as possible:</p> + +<blockquote> "Safe in the arms of Jesus,<br /> + Safe on His gentle breast,<br /> + There by His love o'ershadowed<br /> + Sweetly my soul shall rest."</blockquote> + +<p>Nellie had put Marion down now, had risen to her feet, and crossed the +room to the door. Almost unconsciously the drivers had joined in that +chorus. They had forgotten how it would startle the sweet singer, and when +they saw Nellie standing in the doorway they were much abashed. They felt +like a group of schoolboys caught in some act of mischief, and they longed +to get away.</p> + +<p>As Nellie looked upon them, a bright smile illumined her face. She +surmised the purpose of their visit, and it pleased her.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for that chorus," she said, hardly knowing what else to say. "I +didn't know you were here." + +"Pardon us, miss," Jake replied, stepping forward. "It wasn't fair of us +to be standin' here listenin'. But we couldn't help it. An' when ye sang +that old hymn it jist melted us down. We come to inquire about the boy. +Mebbe ye'd tell us how he's gettin' along."</p> + +<p>"There's no change as yet, that we can see," Nellie replied. "But the +doctor says it must come soon one way or the other. Would you like to see +him? If you come in one at a time, I don't think it will do any harm."</p> + +<p>Without a word Jake followed her into the room, and stood with his hat in +his hand looking down upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"Poor little chap," he whispered. "Ain't it a pity?"</p> + +<p>Hardly had he ceased speaking when Dan suddenly opened his eyes and looked +about him in a dazed manner.</p> + +<p>"Where--where's my rose?" he cried.</p> + +<p>Nellie was by his side in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Here, Dan," and she lifted up the flower so he could see it. "Hush now, +don't speak."</p> + +<p>Dan gave a sigh of relief. He looked wearily around, then his eyes slowly +closed, and he passed into a gentle sleep. A step was heard in the room, +and the doctor stood by the bed.</p> + +<p>"When did the change take place?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Just now," Nellie replied in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"It is well. The crisis is past. He must have perfect quietness. We'll +pull him through now, for sure."</p> + +<p>Jake waited to hear no more. He stole from the house, and motioned to his +companions. Silently they moved away and strode back to the camp. They +were rough men outwardly, this score of river drivers, but a glimpse had +been seen beneath the surface. Their hearts had been stirred as never +before, and they were not ashamed.</p> + + + + +<h1><a name="ch_31"></a>Chapter XXXI</h1> + +<h2>Light at Eventide</h2> + + + +<p>It was a bright buoyant day, with scarcely a cloud to be seen. Not a +breath of wind stirred the air, and every nimble leaf was still. The river +flowed on its way, its glassy surface mirroring the numerous trees along +its banks. Across the fields, fresh with the young green grass, came the +sweet incense wafted up from countless early flowers.</p> + +<p>Several people stood before the Rectory, beneath the shade of a large +horse-chestnut tree. Their eyes were turned up the road with an eager, +watchful expression. Across the gateway a rude arch had been formed, and +upon it the words "Welcome Home" in large white letters had been painted, +while evergreens and leaves lavishly decorated the whole. It was Glendow's +preparation for the return of their absent Rector and his daughter.</p> + +<p>Numerous changes had taken place since the night on which the gold had +been found in the safe. The store was now closed and the Farringtons had +departed. There had been many threats made by the defeated storekeeper, +but they amounted to nothing. Glendow had been aroused, and the one desire +which filled all hearts was to have their old Rector back again. They +realized as never before the sterling character of the man they had +suspected, and what a true friend they had lost. Dan's accident soon +reached their ears, and all breathed a prayer of thankfulness when news +arrived of his recovery. Nothing short of a reception must take place, and +so now more than threescore people, old and young, stood anxiously +awaiting the arrival.</p> + +<p>"There they come," shouted one, and far up the road a cloud of dust could +he seen, and soon a carriage was observed bowling along, containing Parson +John, Nellie and Dan.</p> + +<p>Their eyes opened wide with amazement as they drew near, saw the cheering +crowd, and drove beneath the overhanging arch. Silently they alighted and +grasped the numerous outstretched hands. The past was forgotten in the joy +of the present, and the shepherd and his flock were once again united.</p> + +<p>"It all seems like a wonderful dream," said Parson John to Nellie as they +sat that evening together after the others had departed. "We went out as +culprits, with only a few to bid us good-bye, and now we come home to the +love of our people. Surely the Lord has been good to us, and has led us by +ways that we knew not. Truly His ways are not our ways, and He does all +things well."</p> + +<p>Dan speedily recovered his former strength and his old-time spirit. He was +like a new lad. The weight which had pressed upon him so long had been +removed. He felt he was no longer a sponger, a useless being. His longing +to read and write increased, and as the days passed he made rapid +progress. Mr. Westmore loved to have the boy by his side and would often +read to him, and Dan would always listen with deep wonder. New fields of +knowledge were being gradually opened of which he knew nothing.</p> + +<p>"When I grow to be a big man will I know all about those things?" he one +day asked, when Mr. Westmore had been reading to him from an interesting +book of History.</p> + +<p>"That all rests with yourself, Dan," was the reply. "If you want to know, +you can. But it will mean hard work. There is no royal road to learning."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm going to learn," Dan emphatically responded, and from that day +Mr. Westmore began to plan for the boy's future as he had never done +before.</p> + +<p>One evening about sundown, several weeks later, Nellie and her father were +sitting on the veranda. It was a sultry night, and far in the distance +faint rumblings of thunder could be heard.</p> + +<p>"A storm is coming," Nellie remarked. "I hope Mr. Larkins will get back +from the office before it reaches us."</p> + +<p>Hardly had she spoken ere a step sounded upon the gravel walk and Mr. +Larkins appeared.</p> + +<p>"We were just speaking about you," Nellie exclaimed, and now you are +here."</p> + +<p>"You know the old saying," he laughingly replied.</p> + +<p>"Have a seat, do," and Mr. Westmore pushed forward a rustic chair.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, I have some chores to do before the storm breaks. Here is +your mail. Several papers and only one letter."</p> + +<p>"It's from my boy out west," Mr. Westmore remarked after Mr. Larkins had +gone. "We've had little news from him lately. I hope nothing's wrong."</p> + +<p>His hand trembled slightly as he opened the letter and unfolded several +sheets of paper within. Nellie picked up one of the papers, a daily from +the city, and was soon engrossed in its pages. An exclamation from her +father caused her to look quickly up. The expression on his face was one +of joy. It was that of a man from whom a heavy burden of care has been +unexpectedly lifted.</p> + +<p>"Nellie, Nellie!" he cried. "Good news from Philip! He's won his case! The +mine is ours beyond dispute, and it is far richer than was at first +believed. Read it for yourself," and he eagerly thrust the letter into her +hand.</p> + +<p>Trembling with excitement Nellie did as she was commanded. The first part +of the letter told about the long, stern fight which had been made, and of +the victory which had been won.</p> + +<p>"You little know, father dear," Philip wrote in conclusion, "what this +will mean to us all. Upon my suggestion you invested your all in this +mine, and at one time it looked as if we would lose everything. But now +all that is changed. I am a rich man to-day and you will no longer want +for anything. Your investment will be increased a hundredfold, and you +will make more in one year than you have made in your whole life. As soon +as I get matters in a settled condition I hope to come home for a short +visit, and then. I shall be able to tell you everything in detail."</p> + +<p>For some time Nellie held the letter silently in her hand. Her father was +sitting near with a far-away look in his eyes. Gone were time and place. +He was thinking of the day he had bidden Philip good-bye. He saw the +mother clasping her only son to her heart, and it was the last good-bye. +What hopes and fears had been theirs concerning their absent boy. What +struggles had been his out in the great busy world, and how often had his +home letters been weighted with despair. Many and many a night had they +knelt together and lifted up their voices in prayer on Philip's behalf. +Now she was gone. Oh, to have her there by his side to share his joy! A +mistiness rose before his eyes, and several tears stole down his furrowed +cheeks. Hastily he drew forth his handkerchief and brushed them away. +Nellie noticed his embarrassed manner, and surmised the cause. Going over +to where he was sitting she put her arms about his neck and gave him a +loving kiss.</p> + +<p>"You have me, father dear," she said, "and nothing but death can separate +us."</p> + +<p>"I know it, darling. I know it," was the reply. "I am somewhat unsettled +to-night. This news is so sudden. To think that Philip has conquered! Now +you shall have many comforts which have been denied you so long."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, father dear. What comforts have been denied me? My whole +life has been surrounded by love. We have our little home here, with books +and music in the winter, and the sweet flowers and birds in the summer. +Does not happiness, father, consist in enjoying the good things around us? +Not for my sake am I glad that this good fortune has come, but for yours. +If Philip is correct, and we are to have more money than ever before, you +will be able to rest and enjoy life to the full."</p> + +<p>"Nellie, Nellie! What do you mean? Do I understand you aright? Do you wish +me to give up my work?"</p> + +<p>"But you need rest, father. You have laboured so long, surely you can +afford to let someone else do it now."</p> + +<p>"No, no. The Lord needs me yet. There is much work for me to do. Life to +me is in ministering to others. During those long days at Morristown, when +that cloud overshadowed us, how wretched was my life. Nothing to do--only +to sit with folded hands while others waited upon me. I shudder when I +think of that time. No, let me be up and doing, and God grant I may die in +harness, and not rust out in miserable disuse."</p> + +<p>"But you should have an assistant, father," Nellie suggested, "and he can +give you great help."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of that, dear. It seems now as if one great wish of +my life is to be granted. I have always longed to give several years to +God's service, without being chargeable to any one. Oh, to go among my +people, to comfort them, not as a servant, a hireling paid to do such +things, but as a shepherd who loves his flock, and whose reward is in +doing the Master's work, for the good of others. The people may pay the +assistant, but not me. I wish to be free, free for God's service."</p> + +<p>Footsteps were now heard approaching, and in a minute more Stephen stood +before them. The flush of joy that suffused Nellie's face told of the +happiness in her heart.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Stephen, my son," said Parson John, reaching out his hand. "Your +visit is timely when our cup of joy is full to the brim and running over. +We have not seen you for two whole days. Where have you kept yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Stephen has been to the city," was Nellie's laughing response. +"Didn't I tell you how he had gone with his logs?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, so you did. How stupid of me to forget."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Stephen, "my winter's work is all settled and I have come now +to make the first payment on the farm. There it is. Please count it," and +the young man placed a bulky envelope into his Rector's hand. "That is a +token of my new life, and with God's help it shall continue."</p> + +<p>For several minutes Mr. Westmore held the package in his hand without once +looking upon it.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Stephen," he at length commanded. "I have something to say--to +you--and I feel I can say it now with a clear conscience. Since the day I +paid the four thousand dollars for your homestead, people have been +wondering where I obtained the money, and they certainly had good reason +to wonder. They knew I had invested all I could gather together in that +mine in British Columbia, and that I could pay down such an amount was +very puzzling. It is only right that you and Nellie should hear the truth +from my own lips. You well know," he continued after a pause, "that your +father was a very dear friend of mine. We had grown up as boys together. +We knew each other's affairs intimately, and we often discussed the +future. Your father made considerable money, and had a fairly large bank +account. One day he came to me--only several months before his death--and +we had a most serious talk together. He seemed to have some premonition +that he would not be much longer upon earth, and was most anxious that I +should consent to a plan which he had in his mind. He was fearful lest +after his death something should go wrong. He knew what a headstrong lad +you were, Stephen, and what a temptation it would be to spend recklessly +his hard-earned money. He therefore wished me to act as trustee, with +another firm friend who is living in the city, and to place in the bank in +our names the sum of six thousand dollars. This was to be left there, +unknown to others, until you proved yourself to be a man in every sense of +the word. In case of disaster or trouble we were to use the money at our +discretion for the welfare of the family and not to allow your mother or +sister to come to want. That, in brief, is the substance of the plan. At +first I did not feel like undertaking such a responsibility. But your +father was so insistent I at last consented. I need hardly tell you the +rest, for you know it already. I could not, in justice to your father's +express wish, divulge the secret until I was sure that you had taken a +firm grip of life. You needed to be tested, to pass through the fire. Now +I know you can he depended upon, and so I give you back this money, Keep +it; it is yours, and may God bless you. Part of the balance which remained +in the bank we used on Nora with such splendid results. The rest shall be +handed over to your mother, and I shall thus be relieved of all +responsibility. Will that be satisfactory to you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Westmore ceased, and held forth the envelope. Stephen had risen now +and was standing erect. His hands remained clasped before him.</p> + +<p>"Take it," said the parson.</p> + +<p>"No," was the reply, "I cannot."</p> + +<p>"You cannot? It is yours!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. But remember, I have undertaken to pay back that four +thousand dollars. Through my recklessness I made it necessary to use my +dear father's hard-earned money. Not a cent will I touch until the full +amount is restored, and if I have my health it shall be done. Do not urge +me any more. Put that money where it belongs. It may take me some time to +pay all, but not until it is accomplished shall I feel satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Stephen, Stephen!" cried the parson, "give me your hand. Now I know that +you are in earnest. I shall do as you desire. My heart is full of joy +to-night. May God be glorified for all His blessings. I shall away to rest +now, for the many wonders of the day have tired me much."</p> + +<p>The storm which had been threatening rolled to westward. Far off the moon +rose slowly above the horizon. The night was still. Everything betokened +peace. On the little veranda sat the two young lovers hand in hand. Heart +responded to heart, and time was no more. The present and the future were +blended. The rapture of living was theirs, for where love reigns there is +life in all its fulness.</p> + + + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps"><b>The End</b></p> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<PRE> +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FOURTH WATCH *** + +This file should be named 4wtch10h.htm or 4wtch10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 4wtch11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 4wtch10ah.htm + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +<a href="http://gutenberg.net">http://gutenberg.net</a> or +<a href="http://promo.net.pg">http://promo.net/pg</a> + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +<a href="http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04">http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05</a> or +<a href="ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04">ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext05</a> + +Or /etext05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html">http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html</a> + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +<a href="mailto:hart@pobox.com">Michael S. Hart [hart@pobox.com]</a> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* +</PRE> + +</BODY> +</HTML> + diff --git a/old/4wtch10h.zip b/old/4wtch10h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2e5d5d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/4wtch10h.zip |