IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS

by

ROBERT BARR

1894

TO E. B. 

CHAPTER I. 

In the marble-floored vestibule of the Metropolitan Grand Hotel inBuffalo, Professor Stillson Renmark stood and looked about him with theanxious manner of a person unused to the gaudy splendor of the modernAmerican house of entertainment. The professor had paused halfwaybetween the door and the marble counter, because he began to fear thathe had arrived at an inopportune time, that something unusual was goingon. The hurry and bustle bewildered him. 

An omnibus, partly filled with passengers, was standing at the door, its steps backed over the curbstone, and beside it was a broad, flatvan, on which stalwart porters were heaving great square, iron-boundtrunks belonging to commercial travelers, and the more fragile, but notless bulky, saratogas, doubtless the property of the ladies who satpatiently in the omnibus. Another vehicle which had just arrived wasbacking up to the curb, and the irate driver used language suitable tothe occasion; for the two restive horses were not behaving exactly inthe way he liked. 

A man with a stentorian, but monotonous and mournful, voice was fillingthe air with the information that a train was about to depart forAlbany, Saratoga, Troy, Boston, New York, and the East. When he came tothe words "the East, " his voice dropped to a sad minor key, as if theman despaired of the fate of those who took their departure in thatdirection. Every now and then a brazen gong sounded sharply; and one ofthe negroes who sat in a row on a bench along the marble-paneled wallsprang forward to the counter, took somebody's handbag, and disappearedin the direction of the elevator with the newly arrived guest followinghim. Groups of men stood here and there conversing, heedless of therush of arrival and departure around them. 

Before the broad and lofty plate-glass windows sat a row of men, sometalking, some reading, and some gazing outside, but all with their feeton the brass rail which had been apparently put there for that purpose. Nearly everybody was smoking a cigar. A lady of dignified mien camedown the hall to the front of the counter, and spoke quietly to theclerk, who bent his well-groomed head deferentially on one side as helistened to what she had to say. The men instantly made way for her. She passed along among them as composedly as if she were in her owndrawing room, inclining her head slightly to one or other of heracquaintances, which salutation was gravely acknowledged by the raisingof the hat and the temporary removal of the cigar from the lips. 

All this was very strange to the professor, and he felt himself in anew world, with whose customs he was not familiar. Nobody paid theslightest attention to him as he stood there among it all with hissatchel in his hand. As he timidly edged up to the counter, and triedto accumulate courage enough to address the clerk, a young man cameforward, flung his handbag on the polished top of the counter, metaphorically brushed the professor aside, pulled the bulky registertoward him, and inscribed his name on the page with a rapidity equaledonly by the illegibility of the result. 

"Hello, Sam!" he said to the clerk. "How's things? Get my telegram?"

"Yes, " answered the clerk; "but I can't give you 27. It's been takenfor a week. I reserved 85 for you, and had to hold on with my teeth todo that. "

The reply of the young man was merely a brief mention of the place oftorment. 

"It _is_ hot, " said the clerk blandly. "In from Cleveland?"

"Yes. Any letters for me?"

"Couple of telegrams. You'll find them up in 85. "

"Oh, you were cocksure I'd take that room?"

"I was cocksure you'd have to. It is that or the fifth floor. We'refull. Couldn't give a better room to the President if he came. "

"Oh, well, what's good enough for the President I can put up with for acouple of days. "

The hand of the clerk descended on the bell. The negro sprang forwardand took the "grip. "

"Eighty-five, " said the clerk; and the drummer and the Negrodisappeared. 

"Is there any place where I could leave my bag for a while?" theprofessor at last said timidly to the clerk. 

"Your bag?"

The professor held it up in view. 

"Oh, your grip. Certainly. Have a room, sir?" And the clerk's handhovered over the bell. 

"No. At least, not just yet. You see, I'm----"

"All right. The baggage man there to the left will check it for you. "

"Any letters for Bond?" said a man, pushing himself in front of theprofessor. The clerk pulled out a fat bunch of letters from thecompartment marked "B, " and handed the whole lot to the inquirer, whowent rapidly over them, selected two that appeared to be addressed tohim, and gave the letters a push toward the clerk, who placed themwhere they were before. 

The professor paused a moment, then, realizing that the clerk hadforgotten him, sought the baggage man, whom he found in a room filledwith trunks and valises. The room communicated with the great hall bymeans of a square opening whose lower ledge was breast high. Theprofessor stood before it, and handed the valise to the man behind thisopening, who rapidly attached one brass check to the handle with aleather thong, and flung the other piece of brass to the professor. Thelatter was not sure but there was something to pay, still he quitecorrectly assumed that if there had been the somewhat brusque man wouldhave had no hesitation in mentioning the fact; in which surmise hisnatural common sense proved a sure guide among strange surroundings. There was no false delicacy about the baggage man. 

Although the professor was to a certain extent bewildered by thecondition of things, there was still in his nature a certain doggedpersistence that had before now stood him in good stead, and which hadenabled him to distance, in the long run, much more brilliant men. Hewas not at all satisfied with his brief interview with the clerk. Heresolved to approach that busy individual again, if he could arrest hisattention. It was some time before he caught the speaker's eye, as itwere, but when he did so, he said:

"I was about to say to you that I am waiting for a friend from New Yorkwho may not yet have arrived. His name is Mr. Richard Yates of the----"

"Oh, Dick Yates! Certainly. He's here. " Turning to the negro, he said:"Go down to the billiard room and see if Mr. Yates is there. If he isnot, look for him at the bar. "

The clerk evidently knew Mr. Dick Yates. Apparently not noticing thelook of amazement that had stolen over the professor's face, the clerksaid:

"If you wait in the reading room, I'll send Yates to you when he comes. The boy will find him if he's in the house; but he may be uptown. "

The professor, disliking to trouble the obliging clerk further, did notask him where the reading room was. He inquired, instead, of a hurryingporter, and received the curt but comprehensive answer:

"Dining room next floor. Reading, smoking, and writing rooms up thehall. Billiard room, bar, and lavatory downstairs. "

The professor, after getting into the barber shop and the cigar store, finally found his way into the reading room. Numerous daily papers werescattered around on the table, each attached to a long, clumsy cleftholder made of wood; while other journals, similarly encumbered, hungfrom racks against the wall. The professor sat down in one of the easyleather-covered chairs, but, instead of taking up a paper, drew a thinbook from his pocket, in which he was soon so absorbed that he becameentirely unconscious of his strange surroundings. A light touch on theshoulder brought him up from his book into the world again, and he saw, looking down on him, the stern face of a heavily mustached stranger. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, but may I ask if you are a guest of thishouse?"

A shade of apprehension crossed the professor's face as he slipped thebook into his pocket. He had vaguely felt that he was trespassing whenhe first entered the hotel, and now his doubts were confirmed. 

"I--I am not exactly a guest, " he stammered. 

"What do you mean by not exactly a guest?" continued the other, regarding the professor with a cold and scrutinizing gaze. "A man iseither a guest or he is not, I take it. Which is it in your case?"

"I presume, technically speaking, I am not. "

"Technically speaking! More evasions. Let me ask you, sir, as anostensibly honest man, if you imagine that all this luxury--this--thiselegance--is maintained for nothing? Do you think, sir, that it isprovided for any man who has cheek enough to step out of the street andenjoy it? Is it kept up, I ask, for people who are, technicallyspeaking, not guests?"

The expression of conscious guilt deepened on the face of theunfortunate professor. He had nothing to say. He realized that hisconduct was too flagrant to admit of defense, so he attempted none. Suddenly the countenance of his questioner lit up with a smile, andhe smote the professor on the shoulder. 

"Well, old stick-in-the-mud, you haven't changed a particle in fifteenyears! You don't mean to pretend you don't know me?"

"You can't--you can't be Richard Yates?"

"I not only can, but I can't be anybody else. I know, because I haveoften tried. Well, well, well, well! Stilly we used to call you; don'tyou remember? I'll never forget that time we sang 'Oft in the stillynight' in front of your window when you were studying for the exams. You always _were_ a quiet fellow, Stilly. I've been waiting foryou nearly a whole day. I was up just now with a party of friends whenthe boy brought me your card--a little philanthropic gathering--sort ofmutual benefit arrangement, you know: each of us contributed what wecould spare to a general fund, which was given to some deserving personin the crowd. "

"Yes, " said the professor dryly. "I heard the clerk telling the boywhere he would be most likely to find you. "

"Oh, you did, eh?" cried Yates, with a laugh. "Yes, Sam generally knowswhere to send for me; but he needn't have been so darned public about it. Being a newspaper man, I know what ought to go in print and what shouldhave the blue pencil run through it. Sam is very discreet, as a generalthing; but then he knew, of course, the moment he set eyes on you, thatyou were an old pal of mine. "

Again Yates laughed, a very bright and cheery laugh for so evidentlywicked a man. 

"Come along, " he said, taking the professor by the arm. "We must getyou located. "

They passed out into the hall, and drew up at the clerk's counter. 

"I say, Sam, " cried Yates, "can't you do something better for us thanthe fifth floor? I didn't come to Buffalo to engage in ballooning. Nosky parlors for me, if I can help it. "

"I'm sorry, Dick, " said the clerk; "but I expect the fifth floor willbe gone when the Chicago express gets in. "

"Well, what can you do for us, anyhow?"

"I can let you have 518. That's the next room to yours. Really, they'rethe most comfortable rooms in the house this weather. Fine lookout overthe lake. I wouldn't mind having a sight of the lake myself, if I couldleave the desk. "

"All right. But I didn't come to look at the lake, nor yet at therailroad tracks this side, nor at Buffalo Creek either, beautiful andromantic as it is, nor to listen to the clanging of the ten thousandlocomotives that pass within hearing distance for the delight of yourguests. The fact is that, always excepting Chicago, Buffalo is morelike--for the professor's sake I'll say Hades, than any other place inAmerica. "

"Oh, Buffalo's all right, " said the clerk, with that feeling of localloyalty which all Americans possess. "Say, are you here on this Feniansnap?"

"What Fenian snap?" asked the newspaper man. 

"Oh! don't you know about it? I thought, the moment I saw you, that youwere here for this affair. Well, don't say I told you, but I can putyou on to one of the big guns if you want the particulars. They saythey're going to take Canada. I told 'em that I wouldn't take Canada asa gift, let alone fight for it. I've _been_ there. "

Yates' newspaper instinct thrilled him as he thought of the possiblesensation. Then the light slowly died out of his eyes when he looked atthe professor, who had flushed somewhat and compressed his lips as helistened to the slighting remarks on his country. 

"Well, Sam, " said the newspaper man at last, "it isn't more than oncein a lifetime that you'll find me give the go-by to a piece of news, but the fact is I'm on my vacation just now. About the first I've hadfor fifteen years; so, you see, I must take care of it. No, let the_Argus_ get scooped, if it wants to. They'll value my services allthe more when I get back. No. 518, I think you said?"

The clerk handed over the key, and the professor gave the boy the checkfor his valise at Yates' suggestion. 

"Now, get a move on you, " said Yates to the elevator boy. "We're goingright through with you. "

And so the two friends were shot up together to the fifth floor. 

CHAPTER II. 

The sky parlor, as Yates had termed it, certainly commanded a veryextensive view. Immediately underneath was a wilderness of roofs. Farther along were the railway tracks that Yates objected to; and aline of masts and propeller funnels marked the windings of BuffaloCreek, along whose banks arose numerous huge elevators, each marked bysome tremendous letter of the alphabet, done in white paint against thesomber brown of the big building. Still farther to the west was a moregrateful and comforting sight for a hot day. The blue lake, dotted withwhite sails and an occasional trail of smoke, lay shimmering under thebroiling sun. Over the water, through the distant summer haze, therecould be seen the dim line of the Canadian shore. 

"Sit you down, " cried Yates, putting both hands on the other'sshoulders, and pushing him into a chair near the window. Then, placinghis finger on the electric button, he added: "What will you drink?"

"I'll take a glass of water, if it can be had without trouble, " saidRenmark. 

Yates' hand dropped from the electric button hopelessly to his side, and he looked reproachfully at the professor. 

"Great Heavens!" he cried, "have something mild. Don't go rashly in forBuffalo water before you realize what it is made of. Work up to itgradually. Try a sherry cobbler or a milk shake as a starter. "

"Thank you, no. A glass of water will do very well for me. Order whatyou like for yourself. "

"Thanks, I can be depended on for doing that. " He pushed the button, and, when the boy appeared, said: "Bring up an iced cobbler, and chargeit to Professor Renmark, No. 518. Bring also a pitcher of ice water forYates, No. 520. There, " he continued gleefully, "I'm going to have allthe drinks, except the ice water, charged to you. I'll pay the bill, but I'll keep the account to hold over your head in the future. Professor Stillson Renmark, debtor to Metropolitan Grand--one sherrycobbler, one gin sling, one whisky cocktail, and so on. Now, then, Stilly, let's talk business. You're not married, I take it, or youwouldn't have responded to my invitation so promptly. " The professorshook his head. "Neither am I. You never had the courage to propose toa girl; and I never had the time. "

"Lack of self-conceit was not your failing in the old days, Richard, "said Renmark quietly. 

Yates laughed. "Well, it didn't hold me back any, to my knowledge. NowI'll tell you how I've got along since we attended old Scragmore'sacademy together, fifteen years ago. How time does fly! When I left, Itried teaching for one short month. I had some theories on theeducation of our youth which did not seem to chime in with theprejudices the school trustees had already formed on the subject. "

The professor was at once all attention. Touch a man on his business, and he generally responds by being interested. 

"And what were your theories?" he asked. 

"Well, I thought a teacher should look after the physical as well asthe mental welfare of his pupils. It did not seem to me that his dutyto those under his charge ended with mere book learning. "

"I quite agree with you, " said the professor cordially. 

"Thanks. Well, the trustees didn't. I joined the boys at their games, hoping my example would have an influence on their conduct on theplayground as well as in the schoolroom. We got up a rattling goodcricket club. You may not remember that I stood rather better incricket at the academy than I did in mathematics or grammar. Byhandicapping me with several poor players, and having the best playersamong the boys in opposition, we made a pretty evenly matched team atschool section No. 12. One day, at noon, we began a game. The groundswere in excellent condition, and the opposition boys were at theirbest. My side was getting the worst of it. I was very much interested;and, when one o'clock came, I thought it a pity to call school andspoil so good and interesting a contest. The boys were unanimously ofthe same opinion. The girls were happy, picnicking under the trees. So we played cricket all the afternoon. "

"I think that was carrying your theory a little too far, " said theprofessor dubiously. 

"Just what the trustees thought when they came to hear of it. So theydismissed me; and I think my leaving was the only case on record wherethe pupils genuinely mourned a teacher's departure. I shook the dust ofCanada from my feet, and have never regretted it. I tramped to Buffalo, continuing to shake the dust off at every step. (Hello! here's yourdrinks at last, Stilly. I had forgotten about them--an unusual thingwith me. That's all right, boy; charge it to room 518. Ah! that hitsthe spot on a hot day. ) Well, where was I? Oh, yes, at Buffalo. I got aplace on a paper here, at just enough to keep life in me; but I likedthe work. Then I drifted to Rochester at a bigger salary, afterward toAlbany at a still bigger salary, and of course Albany is only a fewhours from New York, and that is where all newspaper men ultimatelyland, if they are worth their salt. I saw a small section of the war asspecial correspondent, got hurt, and rounded up in the hospital. Sincethen, although only a reporter, I am about the top of the tree in thatline, and make enough money to pay my poker debts and purchase iceddrinks to soothe the asperities of the game. When there is anything biggoing on anywhere in the country, I am there, with other fellows to dothe drudgery; I writing the picturesque descriptions and interviewingthe big men. My stuff goes red-hot over the telegraph wire, and thehumble postage stamp knows my envelopes no more. I am acquainted withevery hotel clerk that amounts to anything from New York to SanFrancisco. If I could save money, I should be rich, for I make plenty;but the hole at the top of my trousers pocket has lost me a lot ofcash, and I don't seem to be able to get it mended. Now, you'velistened with your customary patience in order to give my self-esteem, as you called it, full sway. I am grateful. I will reciprocate. Howabout yourself?"

The professor spoke slowly. "I have had no such adventurous career, " hebegan. "I have not shaken Canadian dust from my feet, and have not madeany great success. I have simply plodded; and am in no danger ofbecoming rich, although I suppose I spend as little as any man. Afteryou were expel--after you left the aca----"

"Don't mutilate the good old English language, Stilly. You were rightin the first place. I am not thin-skinned. You were saying after I wasexpelled. Go on. "

"I thought perhaps it might be a sore subject. You remember, you werevery indignant at the time, and----"

"Of course I was--and am still, for that matter. It was an outrage!"

"I thought it was proved that you helped to put the pony in theprincipal's room. "

"Oh, certainly. _That_. Of course. But what I detested was the waythe principal worked the thing. He allowed that villain Spink to turnevidence against us, and Spink stated I originated the affair, whereasI could claim no such honor. It was Spink's own project, which I fellin with, as I did with every disreputable thing proposed. Of course theprincipal believed at once that I was the chief criminal. Do you happento know if Spink has been hanged yet?"

"I believe he is a very reputable business man in Montreal, and muchrespected. "

"I might have suspected that. Well, you keep your eye on the respectedSpink. If he doesn't fail some day, and make a lot of money, I'm aDutchman. But go on. This is digression. By the way, just push thatelectric button. You're nearest, and it is too hot to move. Thanks. After I was expelled----"

"After your departure I took a diploma, and for a year or two taught aclass in the academy. Then, as I studied during my spare time, I got achance as master of a grammar school near Toronto, chiefly, as I think, though the recommendation of Principal Scragmore. I had my degree bythis time. Then----"

There was a gentle tap at the door. 

"Come in!" shouted Yates. "Oh, it's you. Just bring up another coolingcobbler, will you? and charge it, as before, to Professor Renmark, room518. Yes; and then----"

"And then there came the opening in University College, Toronto. I hadthe good fortune to be appointed. There I am still, and there I supposeI shall stay. I know very few people, and am better acquainted withbooks than with men. Those whom I have the privilege of knowing aremostly studious persons, who have made, or will make, their mark in theworld of learning. I have not had your advantage, of meeting statesmenwho guide the destinies of a great empire. 

"No; you always were lucky, Stilly. My experience is that the chaps whodo the guiding are more anxious about their own pockets, or their ownpolitical advancement, than they are of the destinies. Still, theempire seems to take its course westward just the same. So oldScragmore's been your friend, has he?"

"He has, indeed. "

"Well, he insulted me only the other day. "

"You astonish me. I cannot imagine so gentlemanly and scholarly a manas Principal Scragmore insulting anybody. "

"Oh, you don't know him as I do. It was like this: I wanted to find outwhere you were, for reasons that I shall state hereafter. I cudgeled mybrains, and then thought of old Scrag. I wrote him, and enclosed astamped and addressed envelope, as all unsought contributors should do. He answered--But I have his reply somewhere. You shall read it foryourself. "

Yates pulled from his inside pocket a bundle of letters, which hehurriedly fingered over, commenting in a low voice as he did so: "Ithought I answered that. Still, no matter. Jingo! haven't I paid thatbill yet? This pass is run out. Must get another. " Then he smiled andsighed as he looked at a letter in dainty handwriting; but apparentlyhe could not find the document he sought. 

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I have it somewhere. He returned me theprepaid envelope, and reminded me that United States stamps were of nouse in Canada, which of course I should have remembered. But he didn'tpay the postage on his own letter, so that I had to fork out double. Still, I don't mind that, only as an indication of his meanness. Hewent on to say that, of all the members of our class, you--_you_!--were the only one who had reflected credit on it. That was theinsult. The idea of his making such a statement, when I had told him Iwas on the New York _Argus_! Credit to the class, indeed! I wonderif he ever heard of Brown after he was expelled. You know, of course. No? Well, Brown, by his own exertions, became president of the AlumBank in New York, wrecked it, and got off to Canada with a clear halfmillion. _Yes_, sir. I saw him in Quebec not six months ago. Keepsthe finest span and carriage in the city, and lives in a palace. Couldbuy out old Scragmore a thousand times, and never feel it. Most liberalcontributor to the cause of education that there is in Canada. He sayseducation made him, and he's not a man to go back on education. And yetScragmore has the cheek to say that _you_ were the only man in theclass who reflects credit on it!"

The professor smiled quietly as the excited journalist took a coolingsip of the cobbler. 

"You see, Yates, people's opinions differ. A man like Brown may not bePrincipal Scragmore's ideal. The principal may be local in his idealsof a successful man, or of one who reflects credit on his teaching. "

"Local? You bet he's local. Too darned local for me. It would do thatman good to live in New York for a year. But I'm going to get even withhim. I'm going to write him up. I'll give him a column and a half; seeif I don't. I'll get his photograph, and publish a newspaper portraitof him. If that doesn't make him quake, he's a cast-iron man. Say, youhaven't a photograph of old Scrag that you can lend me, have you?"

"I have; but I won't lend it for such a purpose. However, never mindthe principal. Tell me your plans. I am at your disposal for a coupleof weeks, or longer if necessary. "

"Good boy! Well, I'll tell you how it is. I want rest and quiet, andthe woods, for a week or two. This is how it happened: I have beensteadily at the grindstone, except for a while in the hospital; andthat, you will admit, is not much of a vacation. The work interests me, and I am always in the thick of it. Now, it's like this in thenewspaper business: Your chief is never the person to suggest that youtake a vacation. He is usually short of men and long on things to do, so if you don't worry him into letting you off, he won't lose any sleepover it. He's content to let well enough alone every time. Then thereis always somebody who wants to get away on pressing business, --grandmother's funeral, and that sort of thing, --so if a fellow iscontent to work right along, his chief is quite content to let him. That's the way affairs have gone for years with me. The other week Iwent over to Washington to interview a senator on the politicalprospects. I tell you what it is, Stilly, without bragging, there aresome big men in the States whom no one but me _can_ interview. Andyet old Scrag says I'm no credit to his class! Why, last year mypolitical predictions were telegraphed all over this country, and havesince appeared in the European press. No credit! By Jove, I would liketo have old Scrag in a twenty-four-foot ring, with thin gloves on, forabout ten minutes!"

"I doubt if he would shine under those circumstances. But never mindhim. He spoke, for once, without due reflection, and with perhaps anexaggerated remembrance of your school-day offenses. What happened whenyou went to Washington?"

"A strange thing happened. When I was admitted to the senator'slibrary, I saw another fellow, whom I thought I knew, sitting there. Isaid to the senator: 'I will come when you are alone. ' The senatorlooked up in surprise, and said: 'I am alone. ' I didn't say anything, but went on with my interview; and the other fellow took notes all thetime. I didn't like this, but said nothing, for the senator is not aman to offend, and it is by not offending these fellows that I can getthe information I do. Well, the other fellow came out with me, and as Ilooked at him I saw that he was myself. This did not strike me asstrange at the time, but I argued with him all the way to New York, andtried to show him that he wasn't treating me fairly. I wrote up theinterview, with the other fellow interfering all the while, so Icompromised, and half the time put in what he suggested, and half thetime what I wanted in myself. When the political editor went over thestuff, he looked alarmed. I told him frankly just how I had beeninterfered with, and he looked none the less alarmed when I hadfinished. He sent at once for a doctor. The doctor metaphorically tookme to pieces, and then said to my chief: 'This man is simply worked todeath. He must have a vacation, and a real one, with absolutely nothingto think of, or he is going to collapse, and that with a suddennesswhich will surprise everybody. ' The chief, to my astonishment, consented without a murmur, and even upbraided me for not going awaysooner. Then the doctor said to me: 'You get some companion--some manwith no brains, if possible, who will not discuss politics, who has noopinion on anything that any sane man would care to talk about, and whocouldn't say a bright thing if he tried for a year. Get such a man togo off to the woods somewhere. Up in Maine or in Canada. As far awayfrom post offices and telegraph offices as possible. And, by the way, don't leave your address at the _Argus_ office. ' Thus it happened, Stilly, when he described this man so graphically, I at once thought ofyou. "

"I am deeply gratified, I am sure, " said the professor, with the ghostof a smile, "to be so promptly remembered in such a connection, and ifI can be of service to you, I shall be very glad. I take it, then, thatyou have no intention of stopping in Buffalo?"

"You bet I haven't. I'm in for the forest primeval, the murmuring pinesand the hemlock, bearded with moss and green in the something or other--I forget the rest. I want to quit lying on paper, and lie on my backinstead, on the sward or in a hammock. I'm going to avoid all boardinghouses or delightful summer resorts, and go in for the quiet of theforest. "

"There ought to be some nice places along the lake shore. "

"No, sir. No lake shore for me. It would remind me of the Lake ShoreRailroad when it was calm, and of Long Branch when it was rough. _No_, sir. The woods, the woods, and the woods. I have hired atent and a lot of cooking things. I'm going to take that tent over toCanada to-morrow; and then I propose we engage a man with a team tocart it somewhere into the woods, fifteen or twenty miles away. Weshall have to be near a farmhouse, so that we can get fresh butter, milk, and eggs. This, of course, is a disadvantage; but I shall try toget near someone who has never even heard of New York. "

"You may find that somewhat difficult. "

"Oh, I don't know. I have great hopes of the lack of intelligence inthe Canadians. "

"Often the narrowest, " said the professor slowly, "are those who thinkthemselves the most cosmopolitan. "

"Right you are, " cried Yates, skimming lightly over the remark, andseeing nothing applicable to his case in it. "Well, I've laid in abouthalf a ton, more or less, of tobacco, and have bought an empty jug. "

"An empty one?"

"Yes. Among the few things worth having that the Canadians possess, isgood whisky. Besides, the empty jar will save trouble at thecustomhouse. I don't suppose Canadian rye is as good as the Kentuckyarticle, but you and I will have to scrub along on it for a while. And, talking of whisky, just press the button once again. "

The professor did so, saying:

"The doctor made no remark, I suppose, about drinking less or smokingless, did he?"

"In my case? Well, come to think of it, there _was_ someconversation in that direction. Don't remember at the moment just whatit amounted to; but all physicians have their little fads, you know. Itdoesn't do to humor them too much. Ah, boy, there you are again. Well, the professor wants another drink. Make it a gin fizz this time, andput plenty of ice in it; but don't neglect the gin on that account. Certainly; charge it to room 518. "

CHAPTER III. 

"What's all this tackle?" asked the burly and somewhat red-facedcustoms officer at Fort Erie. 

"This, " said Yates, "is a tent, with the poles and pegs appertainingthereto. These are a number of packages of tobacco, on which I shalldoubtless have to pay something into the exchequer of her Majesty. Thisis a jug used for the holding of liquids. I beg to call your attentionto the fact that it is at present empty, which unfortunately preventsme making a libation to the rites of good-fellowship. What my friendhas in that valise I don't know, but I suspect a gambling outfit, andwould advise you to search him. "

"My valise contains books principally, with some articles of wearingapparel, " said the professor, opening his grip. 

The customs officer looked with suspicion on the whole outfit, andevidently did not like the tone of the American. He seemed to betreating the customs department in a light and airy manner, and theofficer was too much impressed by the dignity of his position not toresent flippancy. Besides, there were rumors of Fenian invasion in theair, and the officer resolved that no Fenian should get into thecountry without paying duty. 

"Where are you going with this tent?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps you can tell us. I don't know thecountry about here. Say, Stilly, I'm off uptown to attend to theemptiness in this stone utensil. I've been empty too often myself notto sympathize with its condition. You wrestle this matter out about thetent. You know the ways of the country, whereas I don't. "

It was perhaps as well that Yates left negotiations in the hands of hisfriend. He was quick enough to see that he made no headway with theofficer, but rather the opposite. He slung the jar ostentatiously overhis shoulder, to the evident discomfort of the professor, and marchedup the hill to the nearest tavern, whistling one of the lately popularwar tunes. 

"Now, " he said to the barkeeper, placing the jar tenderly on the bar, "fill that up to the nozzle with the best rye you have. Fill it withthe old familiar juice, as the late poet Omar saith. "

The bartender did as he was requested. 

"Can you disguise a little of that fluid in any way, so that it may betaken internally without a man suspecting what he is swallowing?"

The barkeeper smiled. "How would a cocktail fill the vacancy?"

"I can suggest nothing better, " replied Yates. "If you are sure youknow how to make it. "

The man did not resent this imputation of ignorance. He merely said, with the air of one who gives an incontrovertible answer:

"I am a Kentucky man myself. "

"Shake!" cried Yates briefly, as he reached his hand across the bar. "How is it you happened to be here?"

"Well, I got in to a little trouble in Louisville, and here I am, whereI can at least look at God's country. "

"Hold on, " protested Yates. "You're making only _one_ cocktail. "

"Didn't you say one?" asked the man, pausing in the compounding. 

"Bless you, I never saw one cocktail made in my life. You are with meon this. "

"Just as you say, " replied the other, as he prepared enough for two. 

"Now I'll tell you my fix, " said Yates confidentially. "I've got a tentand some camp things down below at the customhouse shanty, and I wantto get them taken into the woods, where I can camp out with a friend. Iwant a place where we can have absolute rest and quiet. Do you know thecountry round here? Perhaps you could recommend a spot. "

"Well, for all the time I've been here, I know precious little aboutthe back country. I've been down the road to Niagara Falls, but neverback in the woods. I suppose you want some place by the lake or theriver?"

"No, I don't. I want to get clear back into the forest--if there is aforest. "

"Well, there's a man in to-day from somewhere near Ridgeway, I think. He's got a hay rack with him, and that would be just the thing to takeyour tent and poles. Wouldn't be very comfortable traveling for you, but it would be all right for the tent, if it's a big one. "

"That will suit us exactly. We don't care a cent about the comfort. Roughing it is what we came for. Where will I find him?"

"Oh, he'll be along here soon. That's his team tied there on the sidestreet. If he happens to be in good humor, he'll take your things, andas like as not give you a place to camp in his woods. Hiram Bartlett'shis name. And, talking of the old Nick himself, here he is. I say, Mr. Bartlett, this gentleman was wondering if you couldn't tote out some ofhis belongings. He's going out your way. "

Bartlett was a somewhat uncouth and wiry specimen of the Canadianfarmer who evidently paid little attention to the subject of dress. Hesaid nothing, but looked in a lowering way at Yates, with something ofcontempt and suspicion in his glance. 

Yates had one receipt for making the acquaintance of all mankind. "Comein, Mr. Bartlett, " he said cheerily, "and try one of my friend'sexcellent cocktails. "

"I take mine straight, " growled Bartlett gruffly, although he steppedinside the open door. "I don't want no Yankee mixtures in mine. Plainwhisky's good enough for any man, if he _is_ a man. I don't takeno water, neither. I've got trouble enough. "

The bartender winked at Yates as he shoved the decanter over to thenewcomer. 

"Right you are, " assented Yates cordially. 

The farmer did not thaw out in the least because of this promptagreement with him, but sipped his whisky gloomily, as if it were amost disagreeable medicine. 

"What did you want me to take out?" he said at last. 

"A friend and a tent, a jug of whisky and a lot of jolly good tobacco. "

"How much are you willing to pay?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm always willing to do what's right. How wouldfive dollars strike you?"

The farmer scowled and shook his head. 

"Too much, " he said, as Yates was about to offer more. "'Taint worthit. Two and a half would be about the right figure. Don'no but that'stoo much. I'll think on it going home, and charge you what it's worth. I'll be ready to leave in about an hour, if that suits you. That's myteam on the other side of the road. If it's gone when you come back, I'm gone, an' you'll have to get somebody else. "

With this Bartlett drew his coat sleeve across his mouth and departed. 

"That's him exactly, " said the barkeeper. "He's the most cantankerouscrank in the township. And say, let me give you a pointer. If thesubject of 1812 comes up, --the war, you know, --you'd better admit thatwe got thrashed out of our boots; that is, if you want to get alongwith Hiram. He hates Yankees like poison. "

"And did we get thrashed in 1812?" asked Yates, who was more familiarwith current topics than with the history of the past. 

"Blessed if I know. Hiram says we did. I told him once that we gotwhat we wanted from old England, and he nearly hauled me over the bar. So I give you the warning, if you want to get along with him. "

"Thank you. I'll remember it. So long. "

This friendly hint from the man in the tavern offers a key to thesolution of the problem of Yates' success on the New York press. Hecould get news when no other man could. Flippant and shallow as heundoubtedly was, he somehow got into the inner confidences of all sortsof men in a way that made them give him an inkling of anything that wasgoing on for the mere love of him; and thus Yates often receivedvaluable assistance from his acquaintances which other reporters couldnot get for money. 

The New Yorker found the professor sitting on a bench by thecustomhouse, chatting with the officer, and gazing at the rapidlyflowing broad blue river in front of them. 

"I have got a man, " said Yates, "who will take us out into thewilderness in about an hour's time. Suppose we explore the town. Iexpect nobody will run away with the tent till we come back. "

"I'll look after that, " said the officer; and, thanking him, the twofriends strolled up the street. They were a trifle late in gettingback, and when they reached the tavern, they found Bartlett just on thepoint of driving home. He gruffly consented to take them, if they didnot keep him more than five minutes loading up. The tent and itsbelongings were speedily placed on the hay rack, and then Bartlettdrove up to the tavern and waited, saying nothing, although he had beenin such a hurry a few moments before. Yates did not like to ask thecause of the delay; so the three sat there silently. After a whileYates said as mildly as he could:

"Are you waiting for anyone, Mr. Bartlett?"

"Yes, " answered the driver in a surly tone. "I'm waiting for you to goin fur that jug. I don't suppose you filled it to leave it on thecounter. "

"By Jove!" cried Yates, springing off, "I had forgotten all about it, which shows the extraordinary effect this country has on me already. "The professor frowned, but Yates came out merrily, with the jar in hishand, and Bartlett started his team. They drove out of the village andup a slight hill, going for a mile or two along a straight and somewhatsandy road. Then they turned into the Ridge Road, as Bartlett calledit, in answer to a question by the professor, and there was no need toask why it was so termed. It was a good highway, but rather stony, theroad being, in places, on the bare rock. It paid not the slightestattention to Euclid's definition of a straight line, and in thisrespect was rather a welcome change from the average American road. Sometimes they passed along avenues of overbranching trees, which wereevidently relics of the forest that once covered all the district. Theroad followed the ridge, and on each side were frequently to be seenwide vistas of lower lying country. All along the road were comfortablefarmhouses; and it was evident that a prosperous community flourishedalong the ridge. 

Bartlett spoke only once, and then to the professor, who sat next tohim. 

"You a Canadian?"

"Yes. "

"Where's _he_ from?"

"My friend is from New York, " answered the innocent professor. 

"Humph!" grunted Bartlett, scowling deeper than ever, after which hebecame silent again. The team was not going very fast, although neitherthe load nor the road was heavy. Bartlett was muttering a good deal tohimself, and now and then brought down his whip savagely on one or theother of the horses; but the moment the unfortunate animals quickenedtheir pace he hauled them in roughly. Nevertheless, they were goingquickly enough to be overtaking a young woman who was walking on alone. Although she must have heard them coming over the rocky road she didnot turn her head, but walked along with the free and springy step ofone who is not only accustomed to walking, but who likes it. Bartlettpaid no attention to the girl; the professor was endeavoring to readhis thin book as well as a man might who is being jolted frequently;but Yates, as soon as he recognized that the pedestrian was young, pulled up his collar, adjusted his necktie with care, and placed hishat in a somewhat more jaunty and fetching position. 

"Are you going to offer that girl a ride?" he said to Bartlett. 

"No, I'm not. "

"I think that is rather uncivil, " he added, forgetting the warning hehad had. 

"You do, eh? Well, you offer her a ride. You hired the team. "

"By Jove! I will, " said Yates, placing his hand on the outside of therack, and springing lightly to the ground. 

"Likely thing, " growled Bartlett to the professor, "that she's going toride with the like of him. "

The professor looked for a moment at Yates, politely taking off his hatto the apparently astonished young woman, but he said nothing. 

"Fur two cents, " continued Bartlett, gathering up the reins, "I'd whipup the horses, and let him walk the rest of the way. "

"From what I know of my friend, " answered the professor slowly, "Ithink he would not object in the slightest. "

Bartlett muttered something to himself, and seemed to change his mindabout galloping his horses. 

Meanwhile, Yates, as has been said, took off his hat with greatpoliteness to the fair pedestrian, and as he did so he noticed, with athrill of admiration, that she was very handsome. Yates always had aneye for the beautiful. 

"Our conveyance, " he began, "is not as comfortable as it might be, yetI shall be very happy if you will accept its hospitalities. "

The young woman flashed a brief glance at him from her dark eyes, andfor a moment Yates feared that his language had been rather too choicefor her rural understanding, but before he could amend his phrase sheanswered briefly:

"Thank you. I prefer to walk. "

"Well, I don't know that I blame you. May I ask if you have come allthe way from the village?"

"Yes. "

"That is a long distance, and you must be very tired. " There was noreply; so Yates continued. "At least, I thought it a long distance; butperhaps that was because I was riding on Bartlett's hay rack. There isno 'downy bed of ease' about his vehicle. "

As he spoke of the wagon he looked at it, and, striding forward to itsside, said in a husky whisper to the professor:

"Say, Stilly, cover up that jug with a flap of the tent. "

"Cover it up yourself, " briefly replied the other; "it isn't mine. "

Yates reached across and, in a sort of accidental way, threw the flapof the tent over the too conspicuous jar. As an excuse for his actionhe took up his walking cane and turned toward his new acquaintance. Hewas flattered to see that she was loitering some distance behind thewagon, and he speedily rejoined her. The girl, looking straight ahead, now quickened her pace, and rapidly shortened the distance betweenherself and the vehicle. Yates, with the quickness characteristic ofhim, made up his mind that this was a case of country diffidence, whichwas best to be met by the bringing down of his conversation to thelevel of his hearer's intelligence. 

"Have you been marketing?" he asked. 

"Yes. "

"Butter and eggs, and that sort of thing?"

"We are farmers, " she answered, "and we sell butter and eggs"--a pause--"and that sort of thing. "

Yates laughed in his light and cheery way. As he twirled his cane helooked at his pretty companion. She was gazing anxiously ahead toward aturn in the road. Her comely face was slightly flushed, doubtless withthe exercise of walking. 

"Now, in my country, " continued the New Yorker, "we idolize our women. Pretty girls don't tramp miles to market with butter and eggs. "

"Aren't the girls pretty--in your country?"

Yates made a mental note that there was not as much rurality about thisgirl as he had thought at first. There was a piquancy about theconversation which he liked. That she shared his enjoyment wasdoubtful, for a slight line of resentment was noticeable on her smoothbrow. 

"You bet they're pretty! I think all American girls are pretty. Itseems their birthright. When I say American, I mean the wholecontinent, of course. I'm from the States myself--from New York. " Hegave an extra twirl to his cane as he said this, and bore himself withthat air of conscious superiority which naturally pertains to a citizenof the metropolis. "But over in the States we think the men should doall the work, and that the women should--well, spend the money. I mustdo our ladies the justice to say that they attend strictly to theirshare of the arrangement. "

"It should be a delightful country to live in--for the women. "

"They all say so. We used to have an adage to the effect that Americawas paradise for women, purgatory for men, and--well, an entirelydifferent sort of place for oxen. "

There was no doubt that Yates had a way of getting along with people. As he looked at his companion he was gratified to note just thefaintest suspicion of a smile hovering about her lips. Before she couldanswer, if she had intended to do so, there was a quick clatter ofhoofs on the hard road ahead, and next instant an elegant buggy, whoseslender jet-black polished spokes flashed and twinkled in the sunlight, came dashing past the wagon. On seeing the two walking together thedriver hauled up his team with a suddenness that was evidently notrelished by the spirited dappled span he drove. 

"Hello, Margaret!" he cried; "am I late? Have you walked in all theway?"

"You are just in good time, " answered the girl, without looking towardYates, who stood aimlessly twirling his cane. The young woman put herfoot on the buggy step, and sprang lightly in beside the driver. Itneeded no second glance to see that he was her brother, not only onaccount of the family resemblance between them, but also because heallowed her to get into the buggy without offering the slightestassistance, which, indeed, was not needed, and graciously permitted herto place the duster that covered his knees over her own lap as well. The restive team trotted rapidly down the road for a few rods, untilthey came to a wide place in the highway, and then whirled around, seemingly within an ace of upsetting the buggy; but the young manevidently knew his business, and held them in with a firm hand. Thewagon was jogging along where the road was very narrow, and Bartlettkept his team stolidly in the center of the way. 

"Hello, there, Bartlett!" shouted the young man in the buggy; "half theroad, you know--half the road. "

"Take it, " cried Bartlett over his shoulder. 

"Come, come, Bartlett, get out of the way, or I'll run you down. "

"You just try it. "

Bartlett either had no sense of humor or his resentment against hisyoung neighbor smothered it, since otherwise he would have recognizedthat a heavy wagon was in no danger of being run into by a light andexpensive buggy. The young man kept his temper admirably, but he knewjust where to touch the elder on the raw. His sister's hand was placedappealingly on his arm. He smiled, and took no notice of her. 

"Come, now, you move out, or I'll have the law on you. "

"The law!" roared Bartlett; "you just try it on. "

"Should think you'd had enough of it by this time. "

"Oh, don't, don't, Henry!" protested the girl in distress. 

"There aint no law, " yelled Bartlett, "that kin make a man with a loadmove out fur anything. "

"You haven't any load, unless it's in that jug. "

Yates saw with consternation that the jar had been jolted out fromunder its covering, but the happy consolation came to him that the twoin the buggy would believe it belonged to Bartlett. He thought, however, that this dog-in-the-manger policy had gone far enough. Hestepped briskly forward, and said to Bartlett:

"Better drive aside a little, and let them pass. "

"You 'tend to your own business, " cried the thoroughly enraged farmer. 

"I will, " said Yates shortly, striding to the horses' heads. He tookthem by the bits and, in spite of Bartlett's maledictions and pullingat the lines, he drew them to one side, so that the buggy got by. 

"Thank you!" cried the young man. The light and glittering carriagerapidly disappeared up the Ridge Road. 

Bartlett sat there for one moment the picture of baffled rage. Then hethrew the reins down on the backs of his patient horses, and descended. 

"You take my horses by the head, do you, you good-fur-nuthin' Yank? Youdo, eh? I like your cheek. Touch my horses an' me a-holdin' the lines!Now you hear me? Your traps comes right off here on the road. You hearme?"

"Oh, anybody within a mile can hear you. "

"Kin they? Well, off comes your pesky tent. "

"No, it doesn't. "

"Don't it, eh? Well, then, you'll lick me fust; and that's something noYank ever did nor kin do. "

"I'll do it with pleasure. "

"Come, come, " cried the professor, getting down on the road, "this hasgone far enough. Keep quiet, Yates. Now, Mr. Bartlett, don't mind it;he means no disrespect. "

"Don't you interfere. You're all right, an' I aint got nothin' ag'inyou. But I'm goin' to thrash this Yank within an inch of his life; seeif I don't. We met 'em in 1812, an' we fit 'em an' we licked 'em, an'we can do it ag'in. I'll learn ye to take my horses by the head. "

"Teach, " suggested Yates tantalizingly. 

Before he could properly defend himself, Bartlett sprang at him andgrasped him round the waist. Yates was something of a wrestler himself, but his skill was of no avail on this occasion. Bartlett's right legbecame twisted around his with a steel-like grip that speedilyconvinced the younger man he would have to give way or a bone wouldbreak. He gave way accordingly, and the next thing he knew he came downon his back with a thud that seemed to shake the universe. 

"There, darn ye!" cried the triumphant farmer; "that's 1812 andQueenstown Heights for ye. How do you like 'em?"

Yates rose to his feet with some deliberation, and slowly took off hiscoat. 

"Now, now, Yates, " said the professor soothingly, "let it go at this. You're not hurt, are you?" he asked anxiously, as he noticed how whitethe young man was around the lips. 

"Look here, Renmark; you're a sensible man. There is a time tointerfere and a time not to. This is the time not to. A certaininternational element seems to have crept into this dispute. Now, youstand aside, like a good fellow, for I don't want to have to thrashboth of you. "

The professor stood aside, for he realized that, when Yates called himby his last name, matters were serious. 

"Now, old chucklehead, perhaps you would like to try that again. "

"I kin do it a dozen times, if ye aint satisfied. There aint no Yankever raised on pumpkin pie that can stand ag'in that grapevine twist. "

"Try the grapevine once more. "

Bartlett proceeded more cautiously this time, for there was a look inthe young man's face he did not quite like. He took a catch-as-catch-can attitude, and moved stealthily in a semi-circle around Yates, whoshifted his position constantly so as to keep facing his foe. At lastBartlett sprang forward, and the next instant found himself sitting ona piece of the rock of the country, with a thousand humming birdsbuzzing in his head, while stars and the landscape around joined in adance together. The blow was sudden, well placed, and from theshoulder. 

"That, " said Yates, standing over him, "is 1776--the Revolution--when, to use your own phrase, we met ye, fit ye, and licked ye. How do youlike it? Now, if my advice is of any use to you, take a broader view ofhistory than you have done. Don't confine yourself too much to oneperiod. Study up the War of the Revolution a bit. "

Bartlett made no reply. After sitting there for a while, until thesurrounding landscape assumed its normal condition, he arose leisurely, without saying a word. He picked the reins from the backs of the horsesand patted the nearest animal gently. Then he mounted to his place anddrove off. The professor had taken his seat beside the driver, butYates, putting on his coat and picking up his cane, strode along infront, switching off the heads of Canada thistles with his walkingstick as he proceeded. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Bartlett was silent for a long time, but there was evidently somethingon his mind, for he communed with himself, his mutterings growinglouder and louder, until they broke the stillness; then he struck thehorses, pulled them in, and began his soliloquy over again. At last hesaid abruptly to the professor:

"What's this Revolution he talked about?"

"It was the War of Independence, beginning in 1776. "

"Never heard of it. Did the Yanks fight us?"

"The colonies fought with England. "

"What colonies?"

"The country now called the United States. "

"They fit with England, eh? Which licked?"

"The colonies won their independence. "

"That means they licked us. I don't believe a word of it. 'Pears to meI'd 'a' heard of it; fur I've lived in these parts a long time. "

"It was a little before your day. "

"So was 1812; but my father fit in it, an' I never heard him tell ofthis Revolution. He'd 'a' known, I sh'd think. There's a nigger in thefence somewheres. "

"Well, England was rather busy at the time with the French. "

"Ah, that was it, was it? I'll bet England never knew the Revolutionwas a-goin' on till it was over. Old Napoleon couldn't thrash 'em, andit don't stand to reason that the Yanks could. I thought there was someskullduggery. Why, it took the Yanks four years to lick themselves. Igot a book at home all about Napoleon. He was a tough cuss. "

The professor did not feel called upon to defend the character ofNapoleon, and so silence once more descended upon them. Bartlett seemeda good deal disturbed by the news he had just heard of the Revolution, and he growled to himself, while the horses suffered more than usualfrom the whip and the hauling back that invariably followed the stroke. Yates was some distance ahead, and swinging along at a great rate, whenthe horses, apparently of their own accord, turned in at an opengateway and proceeded, in their usual leisurely fashion, toward a largebarn, past a comfortable frame house with a wide veranda in front. 

"This is my place, " said Bartlett shortly. 

"I wish you had told me a few minutes ago, " replied the professor, springing off, "so that I might have called to my friend. "

"I'm not frettin' about him, " said Bartlett, throwing the reins to ayoung man who came out of the house. 

Renmark ran to the road and shouted loudly to the distant Yates. Yatesapparently did not hear him, but something about the next houseattracted the pedestrian's attention, and after standing for a momentand gazing toward the west he looked around and saw the professorbeckoning to him. When the two men met, Yates said:

"So we have arrived, have we? I say, Stilly, she lives in the nexthouse. I saw the buggy in the yard. "

"She? Who?"

"Why, that good-looking girl we passed on the road. I'm going to buyour supplies at that house, Stilly, if you have no objections. By theway, how is my old friend 1812?"

"He doesn't seem to harbor any harsh feelings. In fact, he was moretroubled about the Revolution than about the blow you gave him. "

"News to him, eh? Well, I'm glad I knocked something into his head. "

"You certainly did it most unscientifically. "

"How do you mean--unscientifically?"

"In the delivery of the blow. I never saw a more awkwardly deliveredundercut. "

Yates looked at his friend in astonishment. How should this calm, learned man know anything about undercuts or science in blows?

"Well, you must admit I got there just the same. "

"Yes, by brute force. A sledge hammer would have done as well. But youhad such an opportunity to do it neatly and deftly, without any displayof surplus energy, that I regretted to see such an opening thrownaway. "

"Heavens and earth, Stilly, this is the professor in a new light! Whatdo you teach in Toronto University, anyhow? The noble art of self-defense?"

"Not exactly; but if you intend to go through Canada in thisbelligerent manner, I think it would be worth your while to take a fewhints from me. "

"With striking examples, I suppose. By Jove! I will, Stilly. "

As the two came to the house they found Bartlett sitting in a woodenrocking chair on the veranda, looking grimly down the road. 

"What an old tyrant that man must be in his home!" said Yates. Therewas no time for the professor to reply before they came within earshot. 

"The old woman's setting out supper, " said the farmer gruffly, thatpiece of information being apparently as near as he could get towardinviting them to share his hospitality. Yates didn't know whether itwas meant for an invitation or not, but he answered shortly:

"Thanks, we won't stay. "

"Speak fur yourself, please, " snarled Bartlett. 

"Of course I go with my friend, " said Renmark; "but we are obliged forthe invitation. "

"Please yourselves. "

"What's that?" cried a cheery voice from the inside of the house, as astout, rosy, and very good-natured-looking woman appeared at the frontdoor. "Won't stay? _Who_ won't stay? I'd like to see anybody leavemy house hungry when there's a meal on the table! And, young men, ifyou can get a better meal anywhere on the Ridge than what I'll giveyou, why, you're welcome to go there next time, but this meal you'llhave here, inside of ten minutes. Hiram, that's your fault. You alwaysinvite a person to dinner as if you wanted to wrastle with him!"

Hiram gave a guilty start, and looked with something of mute appeal atthe two men, but said nothing. 

"Never mind him, " continued Mrs. Bartlett. "You're at my house; and, whatever my neighbors may say ag'in me, I never heard anybody complainof the lack of good victuals while I was able to do the cooking. Comeright in and wash yourselves, for the road between here and the fort isdusty enough, even if Hiram never was taken up for fast driving. Besides, a wash is refreshing after a hot day. "

There was no denying the cordiality of this invitation, and Yates, whose natural gallantry was at once aroused, responded with thereadiness of a courtier. Mrs. Bartlett led the way into the house; butas Yates passed the farmer the latter cleared his throat with aneffort, and, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction hiswife had taken, said in a husky whisper:

"No call to--to mention the Revolution, you know. "

"Certainly not, " answered Yates, with a wink that took in thesituation. "Shall we sample the jug before or after supper?"

"After, if it's all the same to you;" adding, "out in the barn. "

Yates nodded, and followed his friend into the house. 

The young men were shown into a bedroom of more than ordinary size, onthe upper floor. Everything about the house was of the most dainty andscrupulous cleanliness, and an air of cheerful comfort pervaded theplace. Mrs. Bartlett was evidently a housekeeper to be proud of. Twolarge pitchers of cool, soft water awaited them, and the wash, as hadbeen predicted, was most refreshing. 

"I say, " cried Yates, "it's rather cheeky to accept a man's hospitalityafter knocking him down. "

"It would be for most people, but I think you underestimate your cheek, as you call it. "

"Bravo, Stilly! You're blossoming out. That's repartee, that is. Withthe accent on the rap, too. Never you mind; I think old 1812 and I willget on all right after this. It doesn't seem to bother him any, so Idon't see why it should worry me. Nice motherly old lady, isn't she?"

"Who? 1812?"

"No; Mrs. 1812. I'm sorry I complimented you on your repartee. You'llget conceited. Remember that what in the newspaper man is clever, in agrave professor is rank flippancy. Let's go down. "

The table was covered with a cloth as white and spotless as good linencan well be. The bread was genuine homemade, a term so often misused inthe cities. It was brown as to crust, and flaky and light as tointerior. The butter, cool from the rock cellar, was of a refreshingyellow hue. The sight of the well-loaded table was most welcome to theeyes of hungry travelers. There was, as Yates afterward remarked, "abundance, and plenty of it. "

"Come, father!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, as the young men appeared; theyheard the rocking chair creak on the veranda in prompt answer to thesummons. 

"This is my son, gentlemen, " said Mrs. Bartlett, indicating the youngman who stood in a noncommittal attitude near a corner of the room. Theprofessor recognized him as the person who had taken charge of thehorses when his father came home. There was evidently something of hisfather's demeanor about the young man, who awkwardly and silentlyresponded to the recognition of the strangers. 

"And this is my daughter, " continued the good woman. "Now, what mightyour names be?"

"My name is Yates, and this is my friend Professor Renmark of T'ronto, "pronouncing the name of the fair city in two syllables, as is, alas!too often done. The professor bowed, and Yates cordially extended hishand to the young woman. "How do you do, Miss Bartlett?" he said, "I amhappy to meet you. "

The girl smiled very prettily, and said she hoped they had a pleasanttrip out from Fort Erie. 

"Oh, we had, " said Yates, looking for a moment at his host, whose eyeswere fixed on the tablecloth, and who appeared to be quite content tolet his wife run the show. "The road's a little rocky in places, butit's very pleasant. "

"Now, you sit down here, and you here, " said Mrs. Bartlett; "and I dohope you have brought good appetites with you. "

The strangers took their places, and Yates had a chance to look at theyounger member of the family, which opportunity he did not let slip. Itwas hard to believe that she was the daughter of so crusty a man asHiram Bartlett. Her cheeks were rosy, with dimples in them thatconstantly came and went in her incessant efforts to keep fromlaughing. Her hair, which hung about her plump shoulders, was a lovelygolden brown. Although her dress was of the cheapest material, it wasneatly cut and fitted; and her dainty white apron added that touch ofwholesome cleanliness which was so noticeable everywhere in the house. A bit of blue ribbon at her white throat, and a pretty spring flowerjust below it, completed a charming picture, which a more critical andless susceptible man than Yates might have contemplated with pleasure. 

Miss Bartlett sat smilingly at one end of the table, and her fathergrimly at the other. The mother sat at the side, apparently looking onthat position as one of vantage for commanding the whole field, andkeeping her husband and her daughter both under her eye. The teapot andcups were set before the young woman. She did not pour out the tea atonce, but seemed to be waiting instructions from her mother. That goodlady was gazing with some sternness at her husband, he vainlyendeavoring to look at the ceiling or anywhere but at her. He drew hisopen hand nervously down his face, which was of unusual gravity evenfor him. Finally he cast an appealing glance at his wife, who sat withher hands folded on her lap, but her eyes were unrelenting. After amoment's hopeless irresolution Bartlett bent his head over his plateand murmured:

"For what we are about to receive, oh, make us truly thankful. Amen. "

Mrs. Bartlett echoed the last word, having also bowed her head when shesaw surrender in the troubled eyes of her husband. 

Now, it happened that Yates, who had seen nothing of this silentstruggle of the eyes, being exceedingly hungry, was making everypreparation for the energetic beginning of the meal. He had spent mostof his life in hotels and New York boarding houses, so that if he everknew the adage, "Grace before meat, " he had forgotten it. In the midstof his preparations came the devout words, and they came upon him as astupefying surprise. Although naturally a resourceful man, he was notquick enough this time to cover his confusion. Miss Bartlett's goldenhead was bowed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Yates' look ofamazed bewilderment and his sudden halt of surprise. When all headswere raised, the young girl's still remained where it was, while herplump shoulders quivered. Then she covered her face with her apron, andthe silvery ripple of a laugh came like a smothered musical chimetrickling through her fingers. 

"Why, _Kitty_!" cried her mother in astonishment, "whatever is thematter with you?"

The girl could no longer restrain her mirth. "You'll have to pour outthe tea, mother!" She exclaimed, as she fled from the room. 

"For the land's sake!" cried the astonished mother, rising to take herfrivolous daughter's place, "what ails the child? I don't see whatthere is to laugh at. "

Hiram scowled down the table, and was evidently also of the opinionthat there was no occasion for mirth. The professor was equally in thedark. 

"I am afraid, Mrs. Bartlett, " said Yates, "that I am the innocent causeof Miss Kitty's mirth. You see, madam--it's a pathetic thing to say, but really I have had no home life. Although I attend church regularly, of course, " he added with jaunty mendacity, "I must confess that Ihaven't heard grace at meals for years and years, and--well, I wasn'tjust prepared for it. I have no doubt I made an exhibition of myself, which your daughter was quick to see. "

"It wasn't very polite, " said Mrs. Bartlett with some asperity. 

"I know that, " pleaded Yates with contrition, "but I assure you it wasunintentional on my part. "

"Bless the man!" cried his hostess. "I don't mean you. I mean Kitty. But that girl never _could_ keep her face straight. She alwaysfavored me more than her father. "

This statement was not difficult to believe, for Hiram at that momentlooked as if he had never smiled in his life. He sat silent throughoutthe meal, but Mrs. Bartlett talked quite enough for two. 

"Well, for my part, " she said, "I don't know what farming's coming to!Henry Howard and Margaret drove past here this afternoon as proud asPunch in their new covered buggy. Things is very different from whatthey was when I was a girl. Then a farmer's daughter had to work. NowMargaret's took her diploma at the ladies' college, and Arthur he'sbegun at the university, and Henry's sporting round in a new buggy. They have a piano there, with the organ moved out into the back room. "

"The whole Howard lot's a stuck-up set, " muttered the farmer. 

But Mrs. Bartlett wouldn't have that. Any detraction that was necessaryshe felt competent to supply, without help from the nominal head of thehouse. 

"No, I don't go so far as to say that. Neither would you, Hiram, if youhadn't lost your lawsuit about the line fence; and served you right, too, for it wouldn't have been begun if I had been at home at the time. Not but what Margaret's a good housekeeper, for she wouldn't be hermother's daughter if she wasn't that; but it does seem to me a queerway to raise farmers' children, and I only hope they can keep it up. There were no pianos nor French and German in _my_ young days. "

"You ought to hear her play! My lands!" cried young Bartlett, who spokefor the first time. His admiration for her accomplishment evidentlywent beyond his powers of expression. 

Bartlett himself did not relish the turn the conversation had taken, and he looked somewhat uneasily at the two strangers. The professor'scountenance was open and frank, and he was listening with respectfulinterest to Mrs. Bartlett's talk. Yates bent over his plate withflushed face, and confined himself strictly to the business in hand. 

"I am glad, " said the professor innocently to Yates, "that you made theyoung lady's acquaintance. I must ask you for an introduction. "

For once in his life Yates had nothing to say, but he looked at hisfriend with an expression that was not kindly. The latter, in answer toMrs. Bartlett's inquiries, told how they had passed Miss Howard on theroad, and how Yates, with his usual kindness of heart, had offered theyoung woman the hospitalities of the hay rack. Two persons at the tablewere much relieved when the talk turned to the tent. It was young Hiramwho brought about this boon. He was interested in the tent, and hewanted to know. Two things seemed to bother the boy: First, he wasanxious to learn what diabolical cause had been at work to induce twoapparently sane men to give up the comforts of home and live in thisexposed manner, if they were not compelled to do so. Second, he desiredto find out why people who had the privilege of living in large citiescame of their own accord into the uninteresting country, anyhow. Evenwhen explanations were offered, the problem seemed still beyond him. 

After the meal they all adjourned to the veranda, where the air wascool and the view extensive. Mrs. Bartlett would not hear of the youngmen pitching the tent that night. "Goodness knows, you will have enoughof it, with the rain and the mosquitoes. We have plenty of room here, and you will have one comfortable night on the Ridge, at any rate. Thenin the morning you can find a place in the woods to suit you, and myboy will take an ax and cut stakes for you, and help to put up yourprecious tent. Only remember that when it rains you are to come to thehouse, or you will catch your deaths with cold and rheumatism. It willbe very nice till the novelty wears off; then you are quite welcome tothe front rooms upstairs, and Hiram can take the tent back to Erie thefirst time he goes to town. "

Mrs. Bartlett had a way of taking things for granted. It never seemedto occur to her that any of her rulings might be questioned. Hiram satgazing silently at the road, as if all this was no affair of his. 

Yates had refused a chair, and sat on the edge of the veranda, with hisback against one of the pillars, in such a position that he might, without turning his head, look through the open doorway into the room. Where Miss Bartlett was busily but silently clearing away the teathings. The young man caught fleeting glimpses of her as she movedairily about her work. He drew a cigar from his case, cut off the endwith his knife, and lit a match on the sole of his boot, doing thiswith an easy automatic familiarity that required no attention on hispart; all of which aroused the respectful envy of young Hiram, who saton a wooden chair, leaning forward, eagerly watching the man from NewYork. 

"Have a cigar?" said Yates, offering the case to young Hiram. 

"No, no; thank you, " gasped the boy, aghast at the reckless audacity ofthe proposal. 

"What's that?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. Although she was talking volubly tothe professor, her maternal vigilance never even nodded, much lessslept. "A cigar? Not likely! I'll say this for my husband and my boy:that, whatever else they may have done, they have never smoked nortouched a drop of liquor since I've known them, and, please God, theynever will. "

"Oh, I guess it wouldn't hurt them, " said Yates, with a lack of tactthat was not habitual. He fell several degrees in the estimation of hishostess. 

"Hurt 'em?" cried Mrs. Bartlett indignantly. "I guess it won't get achance to. " She turned to the professor, who was a good listener--respectful and deferential, with little to say for himself. She rockedgently to and fro as she talked. 

Her husband sat unbendingly silent, in a sphinxlike attitude that gaveno outward indication of his mental uneasiness. He was thinkinggloomily that it would be just his luck to meet Mrs. Bartlettunexpectedly in the streets of Fort Erie on one of those rare occasionswhen he was enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season. He had the mostpessimistic forebodings of what the future might have in store for him. Sometimes, when neighbors or customers "treated" him in the village, and he felt he had taken all the whisky that cloves would conceal, hetook a five-cent cigar instead of a drink. He did not particularly likethe smoking of it, but there was a certain devil-may-care recklessnessin going down the street with a lighted cigar in his teeth, which hadall the more fascination for him because of its manifest danger. Hefelt at these times that he was going the pace, and that it is well ourwomen do not know of all the wickedness there is in this world. He didnot fear that any neighbor might tell his wife, for there were depthsto which no person could convince Mrs. Bartlett he would descend. Buthe thought with horror of some combination of circumstances that mightbring his wife to town unknown to him on a day when he indulged. Hepictured, with a shudder, meeting her unexpectedly on the uncertainplank sidewalk of Fort Erie, he smoking a cigar. When this nightmarepresented itself to him, he resolved never to touch a cigar again; buthe well knew that the best resolutions fade away if a man is excitedwith two or three glasses of liquor. 

When Mrs. Bartlett resumed conversation with the professor, Yateslooked up at young Hiram and winked. The boy flushed with pleasureunder the comprehensiveness of that wink. It included him in theattractive halo of crime that enveloped the fascinating personality ofthe man from New York. It seemed to say:

"That's all right, but we are men of the world. _We_ know. "

Young Hiram's devotion to the Goddess Nicotine had never reached thealtitude of a cigar. He had surreptitiously smoked a pipe in a secludedcorner behind the barn in days when his father was away. He feared bothhis father and his mother, and so was in an even more embarrassingsituation than old Hiram himself. He had worked gradually up to tobaccoby smoking cigarettes of cane made from abandoned hoop-skirts. Crinoline was fashionable, even in the country, in those days, and ribsof cane were used before the metallic distenders of dresses came in. One hoop-skirt, whose usefulness as an article of adornment was gone, would furnish delight and smoking material for a company of boys for amonth. The cane smoke made the tongue rather raw, but the wickednesswas undeniable. Yates' wink seemed to recognize young Hiram as acomrade worthy to offer incense at the shrine, and the boy was a firmfriend of Yates from the moment the eyelid of the latter drooped. 

The tea things having been cleared away, Yates got no more glimpses ofthe girl through the open door. He rose from his lowly seat andstrolled toward the gate, with his hands in his pockets. He rememberedthat he had forgotten something, and cudgeled his brains to make outwhat it was. He gazed down the road at the house of the Howards, whichnaturally brought to his recollection his meeting with the young girlon the road. There was a pang of discomfiture in this thought when heremembered the accomplishments attributed to her by Mrs. Bartlett. Herecalled his condescending tone to her, and recollected his anxietyabout the jar. The jar! That was what he had forgotten. He flashed aglance at old Hiram, and noted that the farmer was looking at him withsomething like reproach in his eyes. Yates moved his head almostimperceptibly toward the barn, and the farmer's eyes dropped to thefloor of the veranda. The young man nonchalantly strolled past the endof the house. 

"I guess I'll go to look after the horses, " said the farmer, rising. 

"The horses are all right, father. I saw to them, " put in his son, butthe old man frowned him down, and slouched around the corner of thehouse. Mrs. Bartlett was too busy talking to the professor to notice. So good a listener did not fall to her lot every day. 

"Here's looking at you, " said Yates, strolling into the barn, taking atelescopic metal cup from his pocket, and clinking it into receptiveshape by a jerk of the hand. He offered the now elongated cup to Hiram, who declined any such modern improvement. 

"Help yourself in that thing. The jug's good enough for me. "

"Three fingers" of the liquid gurgled out into the patented vessel, andthe farmer took the jar, after a furtive look over his shoulder. 

"Well, here's luck. " The newspaper man tossed off the potion with thefacility of long experience, shutting up the dish with his thumb andfinger, as if it were a metallic opera hat. 

The farmer drank silently from the jar itself. Then he smote in thecork with his open palm. 

"Better bury it in the wheat bin, " he said morosely. "The boy mightfind it if you put it among the oats--feedin' the horses, ye know. "

"Mighty good place, " assented Yates, as the golden grain flowed in awave over the submerged jar. "I say, old man, you know the spot;you've been here before. "

Bartlett's lowering countenance indicated resentment at the imputation, but he neither affirmed nor denied. Yates strolled out of the barn, while the farmer went through a small doorway that led to the stable. Amoment later he heard Hiram calling loudly to his son to bring thepails and water the horses. 

"Evidently preparing an _alibi_, " said Yates, smiling to himself, as he sauntered toward the gate. 

CHAPTER V. 

"What's up? what's up?" cried Yates drowsily next morning, as aprolonged hammering at his door awakened him. 

"Well, _you're_ not, anyhow. " He recognized the voice of youngHiram. "I say, breakfast's ready. The professor has been up an hour. "

"All right; I'll be down shortly, " said Yates, yawning, adding tohimself: "Hang the professor!" The sun was streaming in through theeast window, but Yates never before remembered seeing it such a shortdistance above the horizon in the morning. He pulled his watch from thepocket of his vest, hanging on the bedpost. It was not yet seveno'clock. He placed it to his ear, thinking it had stopped, but foundhimself mistaken. 

"What an unearthly hour, " he said, unable to check the yawns. Yates'years on a morning newspaper had made seven o'clock something likemidnight to him. He had been unable to sleep until after two o'clock, his usual time of turning in, and now this rude wakening seemedthoughtless cruelty. However, he dressed, and yawned himselfdownstairs. 

They were all seated at breakfast when Yates entered the apartment, which was at once dining room and parlor. 

"Waiting for you, " said young Hiram humorously, that being one of a setof jokes which suited various occasions. Yates took his place near MissKitty, who looked as fresh and radiant as a spirit of the morning. 

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long. " he said. 

"No fear, " cried Mrs. Bartlett. "If breakfast's a minute later thanseven o'clock, we soon hear of it from the men-folks. They get precioushungry by that time. "

"By that time?" echoed Yates. "Then do they get up before seven?"

"Laws! what a farmer you would make, Mr. Yates!" exclaimed Mrs. Bartlett, laughing. 

"Why, everything's done about the house and barn; horses fed, cowsmilked--everything. There never was a better motto made than the oneyou learned when you were a boy, and like as not have forgotten allabout:

 "'Early to bed and early to rise Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. '

I'm sorry you don't believe in it, Mr. Yates. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Yates with some loftiness; "but I'd liketo see a man get out a morning paper on such a basis. I'm healthyenough, quite as wealthy as the professor here, and everyone will admitthat I'm wiser than he is; yet I never go to bed until after twoo'clock, and rarely wake before noon. "

Kitty laughed at this, and young Hiram looked admiringly at the NewYorker, wishing he was as clever. 

"For the land's sake!" cried Mrs. Bartlett, with true feminineprofanity, "What do you do up so late as that?"

"Writing, writing, " said Yates airily; "articles that make dynastiestremble next morning, and which call forth apologies or libel suitsafterward, as the case may be. "

Young Hiram had no patience with one's profession as a topic ofconversation. The tent and its future position was the burning questionwith him. He mumbled something about Yates having slept late in orderto avoid the hearing of the words of thankfulness at the beginning ofthe meal. What his parents caught of this remark should have shown themhow evil communications corrupt good manners; for, big as he was, theboy had never before ventured even to hint at ridicule on such asubject. He was darkly frowned upon by his silent father, and sharplyreprimanded by his voluble mother. Kitty apparently thought it ratherfunny, and would like to have laughed. As it was, she contented herselfwith a sly glance at Yates, who, incredible as it may seem, actuallyblushed at young Hiram's allusion to the confusing incident of the daybefore. 

The professor, who was a kind-hearted man, drew a herring across thescent. 

"Mr. Bartlett has been good enough, " said he, changing the subject, "tosay we may camp in the woods at the back of the farm. I have been outthere this morning, and it certainly is a lovely spot. "

"We're awfully obliged, Mr. Bartlett, " said Yates. "Of course Renmarkwent out there merely to show the difference between the ant and thebutterfly. You'll find out what a humbug he is by and by, Mrs. Bartlett. He looks honest; but you wait. "

"I know just the spot for the tent, " cried young Hiram--"down in thehollow by the creek. Then you won't need to haul water. "

"Yes, and catch their deaths of fever and ague, " said Mrs. Bartlett. Malaria had not then been invented. "Take my advice, and put your tent--if you _will_ put it up at all--on the highest ground you canfind. Hauling water won't hurt you. "

"I agree with you, Mrs. Bartlett. It shall be so. My friend uses nowater--you ought to have seen his bill at the Buffalo hotel. I have itsomewhere, and am going to pin it up on the outside of the tent as awarning to the youth of this neighborhood--and what water I need I caneasily carry up from the creek. "

The professor did not defend himself, and Mrs. Bartlett evidently tooka large discount from all that Yates said. She was a shrewd woman. 

After breakfast the men went out to the barn. The horses were hitchedto the wagon, which still contained the tent and fittings. Young Hiramthrew an ax and a spade among the canvas folds, mounted to his place, and drove up the lane leading to the forest, followed by Yates andRenmark on foot, leaving the farmer in his barnyard with a cheerygood-by, which he did not see fit to return. 

First, a field of wheat; next, an expanse of waving hay that soon wouldbe ready for the scythe; then, a pasture field, in which some younghorses galloped to the fence, gazing for a moment at the harnessedhorses, whinnying sympathetically, off the next with flying heelswildly flung in the air, rejoicing in their own contrast of liberty, standing at the farther corner and snorting defiance to all the world;last, the cool shade of the woods into which the lane ran, losing itsidentity as a wagon road in diverging cow paths. Young Hiram knew thelocality well, and drove direct to an ideal place for camping. Yateswas enchanted. He included all that section of the country in asweeping wave of his hand, and burst forth:

 "'This is the spot, the center of the grove: There stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. In such a place as this, at such an hour, We'll raise a tent to ward off sun and shower. '

Shakespeare improved. "

"I think you are mistaken, " said Renmark. 

"Not a bit it. Couldn't be a better camping ground. "

"Yes; I know that. I picked it out two hours ago. But you were wrong inyour quotation. It is not by Shakespeare and yourself, as you seem tothink. "

"Isn't it? Some other fellow, eh? Well, if Shake is satisfied, I am. Doyou know, Renny, I calculate that, line for line, I've written aboutten times as much as Shakespeare. Do the literati recognize that fact?Not a bit of it. This is an ungrateful world, Stilly. "

"It is, Dick. Now, what are you going to do toward putting up thetent?"

"Everything, my boy, everything. I know more about putting up tentsthan you do about science, or whatever you teach. Now, Hiram, my boy, you cut me some stakes about two feet long--stout ones. Here, professor, throw off that coat and _neglige_ manner, and graspthis spade. I want some trenches dug. "

Yates certainly made good his words. He understood the putting up oftents, his experience in the army being not yet remote. Young Hiramgazed with growing admiration at Yates' deftness and evident knowledgeof what he was about, while his contempt for the professor's futilestruggle with a spade entangled in tree roots was hardly repressed. 

"Better give me that spade, " he said at length; but there was anelement of stubbornness in Renmark's character. He struggled on. 

At last the work was completed, stakes driven, ropes tightened, trenches dug. 

Yates danced, and gave the war whoop of the country. 

 "Thus the canvas tent has risen, All the slanting stakes are driven, Stakes of oak and stakes of beechwood: Mops his brow, the tired professor; Grins with satisfaction, Hiram; Dances wildly, the reporter-- Calls aloud for gin and water. 

Longfellow, old man, Longfellow. Bet you a dollar on it!" And thefrivolous Yates poked the professor in the ribs. 

"Richard, " said the latter, "I can stand only a certain amount of thissort of thing. I don't wish to call any man a fool, but you actremarkably like one. "

"Don't be mealy-mouthed, Renny; call a spade a spade. By George! youngHiram has gone off and forgotten his--And the ax, too! Perhaps they'releft for us. He's a good fellow, is young Hiram. A fool? Of course I'ma fool. That's what I came for, and that's what I'm going to be for thenext two weeks. 'A fool--a fool, I met a fool i' the forest'--just thespot for him. Who could be wise here after years of brick and mortar?

"Where are your eyes, Renny, " he cried, "that you don't grow wild whenyou look around you? See the dappled sunlight filtering through theleaves; listen to the murmur of the wind in the branches; hear thetrickle of the brook down there; notice the smooth bark of the beechand the rugged covering of the oak; smell the wholesome woodlandscents. Renmark, you have no soul, or you could not be so unmoved. Itis like paradise. It is--Say, Renny, by Jove, I've forgotten that jugat the barn!"

"It will be left there. "

"Will it? Oh, well, if you say so. "

"I do say so. I looked around for it this morning to smash it, butcouldn't find it. "

"Why didn't you ask old Bartlett?"

"I did; but he didn't know where it was. "

Yates threw himself down on the moss and laughed, flinging his arms andlegs about with the joy of living. 

"Say, Culture, have you got any old disreputable clothes with you?Well, then, go into the tent and put them on; then come out and lie onyour back and look up at the leaves. You're a good fellow, Renny, butdecent clothes spoil you. You won't know yourself when you get ancientduds on your back. Old clothes mean freedom, liberty, all that ourancestors fought for. When you come out, we'll settle who's to cook andwho to wash dishes. I've settled it already in my own mind, but I amnot so selfish as to refuse to discuss the matter with you. "

When the professor came out of the tent, Yates roared. Renmark himselfsmiled; he knew the effect would appeal to Yates. 

"By Jove! old man, I ought to have included a mirror in the outfit. Thelook of learned respectability, set off with the garments of adisreputable tramp, makes a combination that is simply killing. Well, you can't spoil _that_ suit, anyhow. Now sprawl. "

"I'm very comfortable standing up, thank you. "

"Get down on your back. You hear me?"

"Put me there. "

"You mean it?" asked Yates, sitting up. 

"Certainly. "

"Say, Renny, beware. I don't want to hurt you. "

"I'll forgive you for once. "

"On your head be it. "

"On my back, you mean. "

"That's not bad, Renny, " cried Yates, springing to his feet. "Now, itwill hurt. You have fair warning. I have spoken. "

The young men took sparring attitudes. Yates tried to do it gently atfirst, but, finding he could not touch his opponent, struck out moreearnestly, again giving a friendly warning. This went on ineffectuallyfor some time, when the professor, with a quick movement, swung aroundhis foot with the airy grace of a dancing master, and caught Yatesjust behind the knee, at the same time giving him a slight tap on thebreast. Yates was instantly on his back. 

"Oh, I say, Renny, that wasn't fair. That was a kick. "

"No, it wasn't. It is merely a little French touch. I learned it inParis. They _do_ kick there, you know; and it is good to know howto use your feet as well as your fists if you are set on by three, as Iwas one night in the Latin Quarter. "

Yates sat up. 

"Look here, Renmark; when were you in Paris?"

"Several times. "

Yates gazed at him for a few moments, then said:

"Renny, you improve on acquaintance. I never saw a Bool-var in my life. You must teach me that little kick. "

"With pleasure, " said Renmark, sitting down, while the other sprawledat full length. "Teaching is my business, and I shall be glad toexercise any talents I may have in that line. In endeavoring toinstruct a New York man the first step is to convince him that hedoesn't know everything. That is the difficult point. Afterwardeverything is easy. "

"Mr. Stillson Renmark, you are pleased to be severe. Know that you areforgiven. This delicious sylvan retreat does not lend itself toacrimonious dispute, or, in plain English, quarreling. Let dogsdelight, if they want to; I refuse to be goaded by your querulousnature into giving anything but the soft answer. Now to business. Nothing is so conducive to friendship, when two people are camping out, as a definition of the duties of each at the beginning. Do you followme?"

"Perfectly. What do you propose?"

"I propose that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes. We willforage for food alternate days. "

"Very well. I agree to that. "

Richard Yates sat suddenly upright, looking at his friend with reproachin his eyes. "See here, Renmark; are you resolved to force on aninternational complication the very first day? That's no fair show togive a man. "

"What isn't?"

"Why, agreeing with him. There are depths of meanness in yourcharacter, Renny, that I never suspected. You know that people who campout always object to the part assigned them by their fellow-campers. Icounted on that. I'll do anything but wash dishes. "

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Because any sane man would have said 'no' when I suggested cooking, merely _because_ I suggested it. There is no diplomacy about you, Renmark. A man doesn't know where to find you when you act like that. When you refused to do the cooking, I would have said: 'Very well, then, I'll do it, ' and everything would have been lovely; but now----"

Yates lay down again in disgust. There are moments in life whenlanguage fails a man. 

"Then it's settled that you do the cooking and I wash the dishes?" saidthe professor. 

"Settled? Oh yes, if you say so; but all the pleasure of getting one'sown way by the use of one's brains is gone. I hate to be agreed with inthat objectionably civil manner. "

"Well, that point being arranged, who begins the foraging--you or I?"

"Both, Herr Professor, both. I propose to go to the house of theHowards, and I need an excuse for the first visit; therefore I shallforage to a limited extent. I go ostensibly for bread. As I may not getany, you perhaps should bring some from whatever farmhouse you chooseas the scene of your operations. Bread is always handy in the camp, fresh or stale. When in doubt, buy more bread. You can never go wrong, and the bread won't. "

"What else should I get? Milk, I suppose?"

"Certainly; eggs, butter--anything. Mrs. Bartlett will give you hintson what to get that will be more valuable than mine. "

"Have you all the cooking utensils you need?"

"I think so. The villain from whom I hired the outfit said it wascomplete. Doubtless he lied; but we'll manage, I think. "

"Very well. If you wait until I change my clothes, I'll go with you asfar as the road. "

"My dear fellow, be advised, and don't change. You'll get everythingtwenty per cent. Cheaper in that rig-out. Besides, you are so much morepicturesque. Your costume may save us from starvation if we run shortof cash. You can get enough for both of us as a professional tramp. Oh, well, if you insist, I'll wait. Good advice is thrown away on a manlike you. "

CHAPTER VI. 

Margaret Howard stood at the kitchen table kneading dough. The room wascalled the kitchen, which it was not, except in winter. The stove wasmoved out in spring to a lean-to, easily reached through the open doorleading to the kitchen veranda. 

When the stove went out or came in, it marked the approach or thedeparture of summer. It was the heavy pendulum whose swing this way orthat indicated the two great changes of the year. No job about the farmwas so much disliked by the farmer and his boys as the semiannualremoval of the stove. Soot came down, stovepipes gratingly grudged togo together again; the stove was heavy and cumbersome, and many a painin a rural back dated from the journey of the stove from outhouse tokitchen. 

The kitchen itself was a one-story building, which projected back fromthe two-story farmhouse, giving the whole a T-shape. There was averanda on each side of the kitchen, as well as one along the front ofthe house itself. 

Margaret's sleeves were turned back nearly to her elbows, showing apair of white and shapely arms. Now and then she deftly dusted thekneading board with flour to prevent the dough sticking, and as shepressed her open palms into the smooth, white, spongy mass, the tablegroaned protestingly. She cut the roll with a knife into lumps thatwere patted into shape, and placed side by side, like hillocks of snow, in the sheet-iron pan. 

At this moment there was a rap at the open kitchen door, and Margaretturned round, startled, for visitors were rare at that hour of the day;besides, neighbors seldom made such a concession to formality as toknock. The young girl flushed as she recognized the man who had spokento her the day before. He stood smiling in the doorway, with his hat inhis hand. She uttered no word of greeting or welcome, but stood lookingat him, with her hand on the floury table. 

"Good-morning, Miss Howard, " said Yates blithely; "may I come in? Ihave been knocking for some time fruitlessly at the front door, so Itook the liberty of coming around. "

"I did not hear you knock, " answered Margaret. She neglected to invitehim in, but he took the permission for granted and entered, seatinghimself as one who had come to stay. "You must excuse me for going onwith my work, " she added; "bread at this stage will not wait. "

"Certainly, certainly. Please do not let me interrupt you. I have mademy own bread for years, but not in that way. I am glad that you aremaking bread, for I have come to see if I can buy some. "

"Really? Perhaps I can sell you some butter and eggs as well. "

Yates laughed in that joyous, free-hearted manner of his which had muchto do with his getting on in the world. It was difficult to remain longangry with so buoyant a nature. 

"Ah, Miss Howard, I see you haven't forgiven me for that remark. Yousurely could not have thought I meant it. I really intended it for ajoke, but I am willing to admit, now that I look back on it, that thejoke was rather poor; but, then, most of my jokes are rather shopworn. "

"I am afraid I lack a sense of humor. "

"All women do, " said Yates with easy confidence. "At least, all I'veever met. "

Yates was sitting in a wooden chair, which he now placed at the end ofthe table, tilting it back until his shoulders rested against the wall. His feet were upon the rung, and he waved his hat back and forth, fanning himself, for it was warm. In this position he could look up atthe face of the pretty girl before him, whose smooth brow was touchedwith just the slightest indication of a faint frown. She did not evenglance at the self-confident young man, but kept her eyes fixedresolutely on her work. In the silence the table creaked as Margaretkneaded the dough. Yates felt an unaccustomed sensation ofembarrassment creeping over him, and realized that he would have tore-erect the conversation on a new basis. It was manifestly absurd thata resourceful New Yorker, who had conversed unabashed with presidents, senators, generals, and other great people of a great nation, should beput out of countenance by the unaccountable coldness of a country girlin the wilds of Canada. 

"I have not had an opportunity of properly introducing myself, " he saidat last, when the creaking of the table, slight as it was, becameinsupportable. "My name is Richard Yates, and I come from New York. Iam camping out in this neighborhood to relieve, as it were, a mentalstrain--the result of years of literary work. "

Yates knew from long experience that the quickest and surest road to awoman's confidence was through her sympathy. "Mental strain" struck himas a good phrase, indicating midnight oil and the hollow eye of thedevoted student. 

"Is your work mental, then?" asked Margaret incredulously, flashing, for the first time, a dark-eyed look at him. 

"Yes, " Yates laughed uneasily. He had manifestly missed fire. "I noticeby your tone that you evidently think my equipment meager. You shouldnot judge by appearances, Miss Howard. Most of us are better than weseem, pessimists to the contrary notwithstanding. Well, as I wassaying, the camping company consists of two partners. We are sodifferent in every respect that we are the best of friends. My partneris Mr. Stillson Renmark, professor of something or other in UniversityCollege, Toronto. "

For the first time Margaret exhibited some interest in theconversation. 

"Professor Renmark? I have heard of him. "

"Dear me! I had no idea the fame of the professor had penetrated beyondthe precincts of the university--if a university has precincts. He toldme it had all the modern improvements, but I suspected at the time thatwas merely Renny's brag. "

The frown on the girl's brow deepened, and Yates was quick to see thathe had lost ground again, if, indeed, he had ever gained any, which hebegan to doubt. She evidently did not relish his glib talk about theuniversity. He was just about to say something deferentially about thatinstitution, for he was not a man who would speak disrespectfully ofthe equator if he thought he might curry favor with his auditor bydoing otherwise, when it occurred to him that Miss Howard's interestwas centered in the man, and not in the university. 

"In this world, Miss Howard, " he continued, "true merit rarely findsits reward; at least, the reward shows some reluctance in making itselfvisible in time for man to enjoy it. Professor Renmark is a man soworthy that I was rather astonished to learn that you knew of him. I amglad for his sake that it is so, for no man more thoroughly deservesfame than he. "

"I know nothing of him, " said Margaret, "except what my brother haswritten. My brother is a student at the university. "

"Is he really? And what is he going in for?"

"A good education. "

Yates laughed. 

"Well, that is an all-round handy thing for a person to have about him. I often wish I had had a university training. Still, it is not valuedin an American newspaper office as much as might be. Yet, " he added ina tone that showed he did not desire to be unfair to a man ofeducation, "I have known some university men who became passably goodreporters in time. "

The girl made no answer, but attended strictly to the work in hand. Shehad the rare gift of silence, and these intervals of quiet abashedYates, whose most frequent boast was that he could outtalk any man onearth. Opposition, or even abuse, merely served as a spur to hisvolubility, but taciturnity disconcerted him. 

"Well, " he cried at length, with something like desperation, "let usabandon this animated discussion on the subject of education, and takeup the more practical topic of bread. Would you believe, Miss Howard, that I am an expert in bread making?"

"I think you said already that you made your bread. "

"Ah, yes, but I meant then that I made it by the sweat of my good leadpencil. Still, I have made bread in my time, and I believe that some ofthose who subsisted upon it are alive to-day. The endurance of thehuman frame is something marvelous, when you come to think of it. I didthe baking in a lumber camp one winter. Used to dump the contents of asack of flour into a trough made out of a log, pour in a pail or two ofmelted snow, and mix with a hoe after the manner of a bricklayer'sassistant making mortar. There was nothing small or mean about my breadmaking. I was in the wholesale trade. "

"I pity the unfortunate lumbermen. "

"Your sympathy is entirely misplaced, Miss Howard. You ought to pity mefor having to pander to such appetites as those men brought in from thewoods with them. They never complained of the quality of the bread, although there was occasionally some grumbling about the quantity. Ihave fed sheaves to a threshing machine and logs to a sawmill, buttheir voracity was nothing to that of a big lumberman just in fromfelling trees. Enough, and plenty of it, is what he wants. No'tabbledote' for him. He wants it all at once, and he wants it rightaway. If there is any washing necessary, he is content to do it afterthe meal. I know nothing, except a morning paper, that has such anappetite for miscellaneous stuff as the man of the woods. "

The girl made no remark, but Yates could see that she was interested inhis talk in spite of herself. The bread was now in the pans, and shehad drawn out the table to the middle of the floor; the baking boardhad disappeared, and the surface of the table was cleaned. With alight, deft motion of her two hands she had whisked over its surfacethe spotlessly white cloth, which flowed in waves over the table andfinally settled calmly in its place like the placid face of a pond inthe moonlight. Yates realized that the way to success lay in keepingthe conversation in his own hands and not depending on any response. Inthis way a man may best display the store of knowledge he possesses, tothe admiration and bewilderment of his audience, even though his storeconsists merely of samples like the outfit of a commercial traveler;yet a commercial traveler who knows his business can so arrange hissamples on the table of his room in a hotel that they give the onlookeran idea of the vastness and wealth of the warehouses from which theyare drawn. 

"Bread, " said Yates with the serious air of a very learned man, "is amost interesting subject. It is a historical subject--it is a biblicalsubject. As an article of food it is mentioned oftener in the Biblethan any other. It is used in parable and to point a moral. 'Ye mustnot live on bread alone. '"

From the suspicion of a twinkle in the eye of his listener he feared hehad not quoted correctly. He knew he was not now among that portion ofhis samples with which he was most familiar, so he hastened back to thehistorical aspect of his subject. Few people could skate over thinnerice than Richard Yates, but his natural shrewdness always caused him toreturn to more solid footing. 

"Now, in this country bread has gone through three distinct stages, andalthough I am a strong believer in progress, yet, in the case of ourmost important article of food, I hold that the bread of to-day isinferior to the bread our mothers used to make, or perhaps, I shouldsay, our grandmothers. This is, unfortunately, rapidly becoming the ageof machinery--and machinery, while it may be quicker, is certainly notso thorough as old-fashioned hand work. There is a new writer inEngland named Ruskin who is very bitter against machinery. He wouldlike to see it abolished--at least, so he says. I will send for one ofhis books, and show it to you, if you will let me. "

"You, in New York, surely do not call the author of 'Modern Painters'and 'The Seven Lamps of Architecture' a new man. My father has one ofhis books which must be nearly twenty years old. "

This was the longest speech Margaret had made to him, and, as he saidafterward to the professor in describing its effects, it took him rightoff his feet. He admitted to the professor, but not to the girl, thathe had never read a word of Ruskin in his life. The allusion he hadmade to him he had heard someone else use, and he had worked it into anarticle before now with telling effect. "As Mr. Ruskin says" lookedwell in a newspaper column, giving an air of erudition and research toit. Mr. Yates, however, was not at the present moment prepared to enterinto a discussion on either the age or the merits of the Englishwriter. 

"Ah, well, " he said, "technically speaking, of course, Ruskin is not anew man. What I meant was that he is looked on--ah--in New York as--that is--you know--as comparatively new--comparatively new. But, as Iwas saying about bread, the old log-house era of bread, as I might callit, produced the most delicious loaf ever made in this country. It wasthe salt-rising kind, and was baked in a round, flat-bottomed ironkettle. Did you ever see the baking kettle of other days?"

"I think Mrs. Bartlett has one, although she never uses it now. It wasplaced on the hot embers, was it not?"

"Exactly, " said Yates, noting with pleasure that the girl was thawing, as he expressed it to himself. "The hot coals were drawn out and thekettle placed upon them. When the lid was in position, hot coals wereput on he top of it. The bread was firm and white and sweet inside, with the most delicious golden brown crust all around. Ah, that wasbread! but perhaps I appreciated it because I was always hungry inthose days. Then came the alleged improvement of the tin Dutch oven. That was the second stage in the evolution of bread in this country. Italso belonged to the log-house and open-fireplace era. Bread baked bydirect heat from the fire and reflected heat from the polished tin. Ithink our present cast-iron stove arrangement is preferable to that, although not up to the old-time kettle. "

If Margaret had been a reader of the New York _Argus_, she wouldhave noticed that the facts set forth by her visitor had alreadyappeared in that paper, much elaborated, in an article entitled "OurDaily Bread. " In the pause that ensued after Yates had finished hisdissertation on the staff of life the stillness was broken by a longwailing cry. It began with one continued, sustained note, and endedwith a wail half a tone below the first. The girl paid no attention toit, but Yates started to his feet. 

"In the name of--What's that?"

Margaret smiled, but before she could answer the stillness was againbroken by what appeared to be the more distant notes of a bugle. 

"The first, " she said, "was Kitty Bartlett's voice calling the men homefrom the field for dinner. Mrs. Bartlett is a very good housekeeper andis usually a few minutes ahead of the neighbors with the meals. Thesecond was the sound of a horn farther up the road. It is what youwould deplore as the age of tin applied to the dinner call, just asyour tin oven supplanted the better bread maker. I like Kitty's callmuch better than the tin horn. It seems to me more musical, although itappeared to startle you. "

"Oh, you can talk!" cried Yates with audacious admiration, at which thegirl colored slightly and seemed to retire within herself again. "Andyou can make fun of people's historical lore, too. Which do you use--the tin horn or the natural voice?"

"Neither. If you will look outside, you will see a flag at the top of apole. That is our signal. "

It flashed across the mind of Yates that this was intended as anintimation that he might see many things outside to interest him. Hefelt that his visit had not been at all the brilliant success he hadanticipated. Of course the quest for bread had been merely an excuse. He had expected to be able to efface the unfavorable impression he knewhe had made by his jaunty conversation on the Ridge Road the daybefore, and he realized that his position was still the same. A gooddeal of Yates' success in life came from the fact that he never knewwhen he was beaten. He did not admit defeat now, but he saw he had, forsome reason, not gained any advantage in a preliminary skirmish. Heconcluded it would be well to retire in good order, and renew thecontest at some future time. He was so unused to anything like a rebuffthat all his fighting qualities were up in arms, and he resolved toshow this unimpressionable girl that he was not a man to be lightlyvalued. 

As he rose the door from the main portion of the house opened, andthere entered a woman hardly yet past middle age, who had once beenundoubtedly handsome, but on whose worn and faded face was the look ofpatient weariness which so often is the result of a youth spent inhelping a husband to overcome the stumpy stubbornness of an Americanbush farm. When the farm is conquered, the victor is usuallyvanquished. It needed no second glance to see that she was the motherfrom whom the daughter had inherited her good looks. Mrs. Howard didnot appear surprised to see a stranger standing there; in fact, thefaculty of being surprised at anything seemed to have left her. Margaret introduced them quietly, and went about her preparation forthe meal. Yates greeted Mrs. Howard with effusion. He had come, hesaid, on a bread mission. He thought he knew something about bread, buthe now learned he came too early in the day. He hoped he might have theprivilege of repeating his visit. 

"But you are not going now?" said Mrs. Howard with hospitable anxiety. 

"I fear I have already stayed too long, " answered Yates lingeringly. "My partner, Professor Renmark, is also on a foraging expedition atyour neighbors', the Bartletts. He is doubtless back in camp long ago, and will be expecting me. "

"No fear of that. Mrs. Bartlett would never let anyone go when thereis a meal on the way. "

"I am afraid I shall be giving extra trouble by staying. I imaginethere is quite enough to do in every farmhouse without entertaining anychance tramp who happens along. Don't you agree with me for once, MissHoward?"

Yates was reluctant to go, and yet he did not wish to stay unlessMargaret added her invitation to her mother's. He felt vaguely that hisreluctance did him credit, and that he was improving. He could notremember a time when he had not taken without question whatever thegods sent, and this unaccustomed qualm of modesty caused him to suspectthat there were depths in his nature hitherto unexplored. It alwaysflatters a man to realize that he is deeper than he thought. 

Mrs. Howard laughed in a subdued manner because Yates likened himselfto a tramp, and Margaret said coldly:

"Mother's motto is that one more or less never makes any difference. "

"And what is your motto, Miss Howard?"

"I don't think Margaret has any, " said Mrs. Howard, answering for herdaughter. "She is like her father. She reads a great deal and doesn'ttalk much. He would read all the time, if he did not have to work. Isee Margaret has already invited you, for she has put an extra plate onthe table. "

"Ah, then, " said Yates, "I shall have much pleasure in accepting boththe verbal and the crockery invitation. I am sorry for the professor athis lonely meal by the tent; for he is a martyr to duty, and I feelsure Mrs. Bartlett will not be able to keep him. "

Before Mrs. Howard could reply there floated in to them, from theoutside, where Margaret was, a cheery voice which Yates had nodifficulty in recognizing as belonging to Miss Kitty Bartlett. 

"Hello, Margaret!" she said. "Is he here?"

The reply was inaudible. 

"Oh, you know whom I mean. That conceited city fellow. "

There was evidently an admonition and a warning. 

"Well, I don't care if he does. I'll tell him so to his face. It mightdo him good. "

Next moment there appeared a pretty vision in the doorway. On the faircurls, which were flying about her shoulders, had been carelesslyplaced her brother's straw hat, with a broad and torn brim. Her facewas flushed with running; and of the fact that she was a very lovelygirl there was not the slightest doubt. 

"How de do?" she said to Mrs. Howard, and, nodding to Yates, cried: "Iknew you were here, but I came over to make sure. There's going to bewar in our house. Mother's made a prisoner of the professor already, but he doesn't know it. He thinks he's going back to the tent, andshe's packing up the things he wanted, and doing it awfully slow, tillI get back. He said you would be sure to be waiting for him out in thewoods. We both told him there was no fear of that. You wouldn't leave aplace where there was good cooking for all the professors in theworld. "

"You are a wonderful judge of character, Miss Bartlett, " said Yates, somewhat piqued by her frankness. 

"Of course I am. The professor knows ever so much more than you, but hedoesn't know when he's well off, just the same. You do. He's a quiet, stubborn man. "

"And which do you admire the most, Miss Bartlett--a quiet, stubbornman, or one who is conceited?"

Miss Kitty laughed heartily, without the slightest trace ofembarrassment. "Detest, you mean. I'm sure I don't know. Margaret, which is the most objectionable?"

Margaret looked reproachfully at her neighbor on being thus suddenlyquestioned, but said nothing. 

Kitty, laughing again, sprang toward her friend, dabbed a little kiss, like the peck of a bird, on each cheek, cried: "Well, I must be off, ormother will have to tie up the professor to keep him, " and was offaccordingly with the speed and lightness of a young fawn. 

"Extraordinary girl, " remarked Yates, as the flutter of curls andcalico dress disappeared. 

"She is a good girl, " cried Margaret emphatically. 

"Bless me, I said nothing to the contrary. But don't you think she issomewhat free with her opinions about other people?" asked Yates. 

"She did not know that you were within hearing when she first spoke, and after that she brazened it out. That's her way. But she's a kindgirl and good-hearted, otherwise she would not have taken the troubleto come over here merely because your friend happened to be surly. "

"Oh, Renny is anything but surly, " said Yates, as quick to defend hisfriend as she was to stand up for hers. "As I was saying a moment ago, he is a martyr to duty, and if he thought I was at the camp, nothingwould keep him. Now he will have a good dinner in peace when he knows Iam not waiting for him, and a good dinner is more than he will get whenI take to the cooking. "

By this time the silent signal on the flagpole had done its work, andMargaret's father and brother arrived from the field. They put theirbroad straw hats on the roof of the kitchen veranda, and, taking waterin a tin basin from the rain barrel, placed it on a bench outside andproceeded to wash vigorously. 

Mr. Howard was much more interested in his guest than his daughter hadapparently been. Yates talked glibly, as he could always do if he had asympathetic audience, and he showed an easy familiarity with the greatpeople of this earth that was fascinating to a man who had read much ofthem, but who was, in a measure, locked out of the bustling world. Yates knew many of the generals in the late war, and all of thepoliticians. Of the latter there was not an honest man among them, according to the reporter; of the former there were few who had notmade the most ghastly mistakes. He looked on the world as a vast hoardof commonplace people, wherein the men of real genius were buried outof sight, if there were any men of genius, which he seemed to doubt, and those on the top were there either through their own intrigues orbecause they had been forced up by circumstances. His opinionssometimes caused a look of pain to cross the face of the older man, whowas enthusiastic in his quiet way, and had his heroes. He would havebeen a strong Republican if he had lived in the States; and he hadwatched the four-years' struggle, through the papers, with keen andabsorbed interest. The North had been fighting, in his opinion, for thegreat and undying principle of human liberty, and had deservedly won. Yates had no such delusion. It was a politicians' war, he said. Principle wasn't in it. The North would have been quite willing to letslavery stand if the situation had not been forced by the firing onFort Sumter. Then the conduct of the war did not at all meet theapproval of Mr. Yates. 

"Oh, yes, " he said, "I suppose Grant will go down into history as agreat general. The truth is that he simply knew how to subtract. Thatis all there is in it. He had the additional boon of an utter lack ofimagination. We had many generals who were greater than Grant, but theywere troubled with imaginations. Imagination will ruin the best generalin the world. Now, take yourself, for example. If you were to kill aman unintentionally, your conscience would trouble you all the rest ofyour life. Think how you would feel, then, if you were to cause thedeath of ten thousand men all in a lump. It would break you down. Themistake an ordinary man makes may result in the loss of a few dollars, which can be replaced; but if a general makes a mistake, the loss cannever be made up, for his mistakes are estimated by the lives of men. He says 'Go' when he should have said 'Come. ' He says 'Attack' when heshould have said 'Retreat. ' What is the result? Five, ten, or fifteenthousand men, many of them better men than he is, left dead on thefield. Grant had nothing of this feeling. He simply knew how tosubtract, as I said before. It is like this: You have fifty thousandmen and I have twenty-five thousand. When I kill twenty-five thousandof your men and you kill twenty-five thousand of my men, you havetwenty-five thousand left and I have none. You are the victor, and thethoughtless crowd howls about you, but that does not make you out thegreatest general by a long shot. If Lee had had Grant's number, andGrant had Lee's, the result would have been reversed. Grant set himselfto do this little sum in subtraction, and he did it--did it probably asquickly as any other man would have done it, and he knew that when itwas done the war would have to stop. That's all there was to it. "

The older man shook his head. "I doubt, " he said, "if history will takeyour view either of the motives of those in power or of the way the warwas carried on. It was a great and noble struggle, heroically fought bythose deluded people who were in the wrong, and stubbornly contested atimmense self-sacrifice by those who were in the right. "

"What a pity it was, " said young Howard to the newspaper man, with arudeness that drew a frown from his father, "that you didn't get toshow 'em how to carry on the war. "

"Well, " said Yates, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, "I flattermyself that I would have given them some valuable pointers. Still, itis too late to bemoan their neglect now. "

"Oh, you may have a chance yet, " continued the unabashed young man. "They say the Fenians are coming over here this time sure. You oughtto volunteer either on our side or on theirs, and show how a war oughtto be carried on. "

"Oh, there's nothing in the Fenian scare! They won't venture over. Theyfight with their mouths. It's the safest way. "

"I believe you, " said the youth significantly. 

Perhaps it was because the boy had been so inconsiderate as to makethese remarks that Yates received a cordial invitation from both Mr. And Mrs. Howard to visit the farm as often as he cared to do so. Ofthis privilege Yates resolved to avail himself, but he would haveprized it more if Miss Margaret had added her word--which she did not, perhaps because she was so busy looking after the bread. Yates knew, however, that with a woman apparent progress is rarely synonymous withreal progress. This knowledge soothed his disappointment. 

As he walked back to the camp he reviewed his own feelings withsomething like astonishment. The march of events was rapid even forhim, who was not slow in anything he undertook. 

"It is the result of leisure, " he said to himself. "It is the firstbreathing time I have had for fifteen years. Not two days of myvacation gone, and here I am hopelessly in love!"

CHAPTER VII. 

Yates had intended to call at the Bartletts' and escort Renmark back tothe woods; but when he got outside he forgot the existence of theprofessor, and wandered somewhat aimlessly up the side road, switchingat the weeds that always grow in great profusion along the ditches of aCanadian country thoroughfare. The day was sunny and warm, and as Yateswandered on in the direction of the forest he thought of many things. He had feared that he would find life deadly dull so far from New York, without even the consolation of a morning-paper, the feverish readingof which had become a sort of vice with him, like smoking. He hadimagined that he could not exist without his morning paper, but he nowrealized that it was not nearly so important a factor in life as he hadsupposed; yet he sighed when he thought of it, and wished he had onewith him of current date. He could now, for the first time in manyyears, read a paper without that vague fear which always possessed himwhen he took up an opposition sheet, still damp from the press. Beforehe could enjoy it his habit was to scan it over rapidly to see if itcontained any item of news which he himself had missed the previousday. The impending "scoop" hangs over the head of the newspaper manlike the sword so often quoted. Great as the joy of beating theopposition press is, it never takes the poignancy of the sting awayfrom a beating received. If a terrible disaster took place, and anotherpaper gave fuller particulars than the _Argus_ did, Yates foundhimself almost wishing the accident had not occurred, although herecognized such a wish as decidedly unprofessional. 

Richard's idea of the correct spirit in a reporter was exemplified byan old broken-down, out-of-work morning newspaper man, who had not longbefore committed suicide at an hour in the day too late for the eveningpapers to get the sensational item. He had sent in to the paper forwhich he formerly worked a full account of the fatality, accuratelyheaded and sub-headed; and, in his note to the city editor, he told whyhe had chosen the hour of 7 P. M. As the time for his departure from anunappreciative world. 

"Ah, well, " said Yates under his breath, and suddenly pulling himselftogether, "I mustn't think of New York if I intend to stay here for acouple of weeks. I'll be city-sick the first thing I know, and thenI'll make a break for the metropolis. This will never do. The air hereis enchanting, it fills a man with new life. This is the spot for me, and I'll stick to it till I'm right again. Hang New York! But I mustn'tthink of Broadway or I'm done for. "

He came to the spot in the road where he could see the white side ofthe tent under the dark trees, and climbed up on the rail fence, sitting there for a few moments. The occasional call of a quail from aneighboring field was the only sound that broke the intense stillness. The warm smell of spring was in the air. The buds had but recentlybroken, and the woods, intensely green, had a look of newness andfreshness that was comforting to the eye and grateful to the othersenses. The world seemed to be but lately made. The young man breatheddeeply of the vivifying air, and said: "No, there's nothing the matterwith this place, Dick. New York's a fool to it. " Then, with a sigh, headded: "If I can stand it for two weeks. I wonder how the boys aregetting on without me. "

In spite of himself his thoughts kept drifting back to the great city, although he told himself that it wouldn't do. He gazed at the peaceful, spreading landscape, but his eyes were vacant and he saw nothing. Theroar of the streets was in his ears. Suddenly his reverie was broken bya voice from the forest. 

"I say, Yates, where's the bread?"

Yates looked quickly around, somewhat startled, and saw the professorcoming toward him. 

"The bread? I forgot all about it. No; I didn't either. They werebaking--that was it. I am to go for it later in the day. What loot didyou rake in, professor?"

"Vegetables mostly. "

"That's all right. Have a good dinner?"

"Excellent. "

"So did I. Renny, when you interrupted me, I was just counting thefarmhouses in sight. What do you say to boarding round among them? Youare a schoolmaster, and ought to know all about it. Isn't education inthis country encouraged by paying the teacher as little as possible, and letting him take it out in eating his way from one house toanother? Ever board around, Renny?"

"Never. If the custom once existed in Canada, it is out of date now. "

"That's a pity. I hate to face my own cooking, Renmark. We become lessbrave as we grow older. By the way, how is old man Bartlett? As well ascould be expected?"

"He seemed much as usual. Mrs. Bartlett has sent out two chairs to thetent; she fears we will get rheumatism if we sit on the ground. "

"She is a kind woman, Renny, and a thoughtful. And that reminds me: Ihave a hammock somewhere among my belongings. I will swing it up. Chairs are comfortable, but a hammock is luxury. "

Yates slid down from the fence top, and together the two men walked tothe tent. The hammock was unfurled and slung between two trees. Yatestested it cautiously, and finally trusted himself to its restful foldsof network. He was swaying indolently several feet from the ground whenhe said to Renmark:

"I call this paradise--paradise regained; but it will be paradise lostnext month. Now, professor, I am ready to do the cooking, but I have afancy for doing it by proxy. The general directs, and the usefulprosaic man executes. Where are your vegetables, Renny? Potatoes andcarrots, eh? Very good. Now, you may wash them, Renny; but first youmust bring some water from the spring. "

The professor was a patient man, and he obeyed. Yates continued toswing in the hammock alternating directions with rhapsodies on thebeauties of the day and the stillness of the woods. Renmark said butlittle, and attended strictly to the business in hand. The vegetablesfinished, he took a book from his valise, tilted a chair back against atree, and began to read. 

"I'm depending upon you for the bread, " he said to the drowsy man inthe hammock. 

"Right you are, Renny. Your confidence is not misplaced. I shallpresently journey down into the realms of civilization, and fill thelong-felt want. I shall go to the Howards by way of the Bartletthomestead, but I warn you that if there is a meal on, at either place, you will not have me here to test your first efforts at cooking. So youmay have to wait until breakfast for my opinion. "

Yates extricated himself slowly and reluctantly from the hammock, andlooked regretfully at it when he stood once more on the ground. 

"This mad struggle for bread, professor, is the curse of life herebelow. It is what we are all after. If it were not for the necessity ofbread and clothing, what a good time a fellow might have. Well, myblessing, Renny. Good-by. "

Yates strolled slowly through the woods, until he came to the beginningof a lane which led to the Bartlett homestead. He saw the farmer andhis son at work in the back fields. From between the distant house andbarn there arose, straight up into the still air, a blue column ofsmoke, which, reaching a certain height, spread out like a thin, hazycloud above the dwelling. At first Yates thought that some of theouthouses were on fire, and he quickened his pace to a run; but amoment's reflection showed him that the column was plainly visible tothe workers in the fields, and that if anything were wrong they wouldnot continue placidly at their labor. When he had walked the longlength of the lane, and had safely rounded the corner of the barn, hesaw, in the open space between that building and the house, a huge campfire blazing. From a pole, upheld by two crotched supports, hung a bigiron kettle over the flames. The caldron was full nearly to the brim, and the steam was already beginning to rise from its surface, althoughthe fire had evidently been but recently kindled. The smoke was not nowso voluminous, but Kitty Bartlett stood there with a big-brimmed strawhat in her hands, fanning it away from her face, while the hat at thesame time protected her rosy countenance from the fire. She plainly wasnot prepared to receive visitors, and she started when the young manaddressed her, flushing still more deeply, apparently annoyed at hisunwelcome appearance. 

"Good-afternoon, " he said cordially. "Preparing for washing? I thoughtMonday was washing day. "

"It is. "

"Then I have not been misinformed. And you are not preparing forwashing?"

"We are. "

Yates laughed so heartily that Kitty, in spite of herself, had topermit a smile to brighten her own features. She always found itdifficult remain solemn for any length of time. 

"This is obviously a conundrum, " said Yates, ticking off the items onhis four fingers. "First, Monday is washing day. Second, this is notMonday. Third, neither is to-morrow. Fourth, we are preparing forwashing. I give it up, Miss Bartlett. Please tell me the answer. "

"The answer is that I am making soap; soft soap, if you know what thatis. "

"Practically, I don't know what it is; but I have heard the term usedin a political connection. In the States we say that if a man is verydiplomatic he uses soft soap, so I suppose it has lubricatingqualities. Sam Slick used the term 'soft sawder' in the same way; butwhat sawder is, soft or hard, I haven't the slightest idea. "

"I thought you knew everything, Mr. Yates. "

"Me? Bless you, no. I'm a humble gleaner in the field of knowledge. That's why I brought a Toronto professor with me. I want to learnsomething. Won't you teach me how to make soap?"

"I'm very busy just now. When I said that we were preparing forwashing, I should perhaps have told you there was something else we arenot prepared for to-day. "

"What is that?"

"A visitor. "

"Oh, I say, Miss Bartlett, you are a little hard on me. I'm not avisitor. I'm a friend of the family. I want to help. You will find me amost diligent student. Won't you give me a chance?"

"All the hard work's done. But perhaps you knew that before you came. "

Yates looked at her reproachfully, and sighed deeply. 

"That's what it is to be a misunderstood man. So you think, among otherbad qualities, I have the habit of shirking work? Let me tell you, MissBartlett, that the reason I am here is because I have worked too hard. Now, confess that you are sorry for what you said--trampling on analready downtrodden man. "

Kitty laughed merrily at this, and Yates laughed also, for his sense ofcomradeship was strong. 

"You don't look as if you had ever worked in your life; I don't believeyou know what work is. "

"But there are different kinds of labor. Don't you call writing work?"

"No. "

"That's just where you're mistaken. It is, and hard work, too. I'lltell you about the newspaper business if you'll tell me about soapmaking. Fair exchange. I wish you would take me as a pupil, MissBartlett; you would find me quick at picking up things. "

"Well, then, pick up that pail and draw a pailful of water. "

"I'll do it, " cried Yates sternly; "I'll do it, though it blast me. "

Yates picked up the wooden pail, painted blue on the outside, with ared stripe near the top for ornament, and cream-colored inside. It wascalled a "patent pail" in those days, as it was a comparatively recentinnovation, being cheaper, lighter, and stronger than the tin pailwhich it was rapidly replacing. At the well was a stout pole, pinnedthrough the center to the upright support on which it swung, like thewalking-beam of an engine. The thick end, which rested on the ground, was loaded with heavy stones; while from the thin end, high in the air, there dangled over the mouth of the well a slim pole with a hook. Thishook was ingeniously furnished with a spring of hickory, which snappedwhen the handle of the pail was placed on the hook, and prevented the"patent" utensil from slipping off when it was lowered to the surfaceof the water. Yates speedily recognized the usefulness of thiscontrivance, for he found that the filling of a wooden pail in a deepwell was not the simple affair it looked. The bucket bobbed about onthe surface of the water. Once he forgot the necessity of keeping astout grip on the pole, and the next instant the pail came up to thesunlight with a suddenness that was terrifying. Only an equally suddenbackward jump on Yates' part saved his head. Miss Bartlett was pleasedto look upon this incident as funny. Yates was so startled by theunexpected revolt of the pail that his native courtesy did not get achance to prevent Kitty from drawing up the water herself. She loweredthe vessel, pulling down the pole in a hand-over-hand manner that theyoung man thought decidedly fetching, and then she gave an almostimperceptible twist to the arrangement that resulted in instantsuccess. The next thing Yates knew the full pail was resting on thewell curb, and the hickory spring had given the click that released thehandle. 

"There, " said Kitty, suppressing her merriment, "that's how it's done. "

"I see the result, Miss Bartlett; but I'm not sure I can do the trick. These things are not so simple as they seem. What is the next step?"

"Pour the water into the leach. "

"Into the what?"

"Into the leach, I said. Where else?"

"Oh, I'm up a tree again. I see I don't even know the A B C of thisbusiness. In the old days the leech was a physician. You don't mean I'mto drown a doctor?"

"This is the leach, " said Kitty, pointing to a large, yellowish, uprightwooden cylinder, which rested on some slanting boards, down the surfaceof which ran a brownish liquid that dripped into a trough. 

As Yates stood on a bench with the pail in his hand he saw that thecylinder was filled nearly to the top with sodden wood ashes. He pouredin the water, and it sank quickly out of sight. 

"So this is part of the soap-making equipment?" he said, stepping down;"I thought the iron kettle over the fire was the whole factory. Tell meabout the leach. "

"That is where the hard work of soap making comes in, " said Kitty, stirring the contents of the iron kettle with a long stick. "Keepingthe leach supplied with water at first is no fun, for then the ashesare dry. If you put in five more pails of water, I will tell you aboutit. "

"Right!" cried Yates, pleased to see that the girl's evident objectionto his presence at first was fast disappearing. "Now you'll understandhow energetic I am. I'm a handy man about a place. "

When he had completed his task, she was still stirring the thickeningliquid in the caldron, guarding her face from the fire with her bigstraw hat. Her clustering, tangled fair hair was down about hershoulders; and Yates, as he put the pail in its place, when it had beenemptied the fifth time, thought she formed a very pretty picturestanding there by the fire, even if she were making soft soap. 

"The wicked genii has finished the task set him by the fairy princess. Now for the reward. I want all the particulars about the leach. In thefirst place, where do you get this huge wooden cylinder that I have, without apparent effect, been pouring water into? Is it manufactured ornatural?"

"Both. It is a section of the buttonwood tree. "

"Buttonwood? I don't think I ever heard of that. I know the beech andthe maple, and some kinds of oak, but there my wood lore ends. Why thebuttonwood?"

"The buttonwood happens to be exactly suited to the purpose. It is atree that is very fine to look at. It seems all right, but it generallyisn't. It is hollow or rotten within, and, even when sound, the timbermade from it is of little value, as it doesn't last. Yet you can't telluntil you begin to chop whether it is of any use or not. " Kitty shot aquick glance at the young man, who was sitting on a log watching her. 

"Go on, Miss Bartlett; I see what you mean. There are men like thebuttonwood tree. The woods are full of them. I've met lots of thatkind, fair to look upon, but hollow. Of course you don't mean anythingpersonal; for you must have seen my worth by the way I stuck to thewater hauling. But go on. "

"Dear me, I never thought of such a thing; but a guilty conscience, they say----" said Kitty, with a giggle. 

"Of course they say; but it's wrong, like most other things they say. It's the man with the guilty conscience who looks you straight in theeye. Now that the buttonwood is chopped down, what's the next thing tobe done?"

"It is sawn off at the proper length, square at one end and slanting atthe other. "

"Why slanting?"

"Don't you see, the foundation of plank on which it rests is inclined, so the end of the leach that is down must be slantingly cut, otherwiseit would not stand perpendicularly. It would topple over in the firstwindstorm. "

"I see, I see. Then they haul it in and set it up?"

"Oh, dear no; not yet. They build a fire in it when it gets dryenough. "

"Really? I think I understand the comprehensive scheme, but I slip up onthe details, as when I tried to submerge that wooden pail. What's thefire for?"

"To burn out what remains of the soft inside wood, so as to leave onlythe hard outside shell. Then the charring of the inner surface issupposed to make the leach better--more water-tight, perhaps. "

"Quite so. Then it is hauled in and set up?"

"Yes; and gradually filled with ashes. When it is full, we pour thewater in it, and catch the lye as it drips out. This is put in thecaldron with grease, pigskins, and that sort of thing, and when itboils long enough, the result is soft soap. "

"And if you boil it too long, what is the result?"

"Hard soap, I suppose. I never boil it too long. "

The conversation was here interrupted by a hissing in the fire, causedby the tumultuous boiling over of the soap. Kitty hurriedly threw in abasin of cold lye, and stirred the mixture vigorously. 

"You see, " she said reproachfully, "the result of keeping me talkingnonsense to you. Now you will have to make up for it by bringing insome wood and putting more water into the leach. "

"With the utmost pleasure, " cried Yates, springing to his feet. "It isa delight to atone for a fault by obeying your commands. "

The girl laughed. "Buttonwood, " she said. Before Yates could think ofanything to say in reply Mrs. Bartlett appeared at the back door. 

"How is the soap getting on, Kitty?" she asked. "Why, Mr. Yates, areyou here?"

"Am I here? I should say I was. Very much here. I'm the hired man. I'mthe hewer of wood and the hauler of water, or, to speak more correctly, I'm the hauler of both. And, besides, I've been learning how to makesoap, Mrs. Bartlett. "

"Well, it won't hurt you to know how. "

"You bet it won't. When I get back to New York, the first thing I shalldo will be to chop down a buttonwood tree in the park, if I can findone, and set up a leach for myself. Lye comes useful in running apaper. "

Mrs. Bartlett's eyes twinkled, for, although she did not quiteunderstand his nonsense, she knew it was nonsense, and she had a likingfor frivolous persons, her own husband being so somber-minded. 

"Tea is ready, " she said. "Of course you will stay, Mr. Yates. "

"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, I cannot conscientiously do so. I haven'tearned a meal since the last one. No; my conscience won't let meaccept, but thank you all the same. "

"Nonsense; my conscience won't let you go away hungry. If nobody wereto eat but those who earn their victuals, there would be more starvingpeople in the world than there are. Of course you'll stay. "

"Now, that's what I like, Mrs. Bartlett. I like to have a chance ofrefusing an invitation I yearn for, and then be forced to accept. That's true hospitality. " Then in a whisper he added to Kitty; "If youdare to say 'buttonwood, ' Miss Bartlett, you and I will quarrel. "

But Kitty said nothing, now that her mother had appeared on the scene, but industriously stirred the contents of the iron kettle. 

"Kitty, " said the mother, "you call the men to supper. "

"I can't leave this, " said Kitty, flushing; "it will boil over. Youcall, mother. "

So Mrs. Bartlett held her open palms on each side of her mouth, andgave the long wailing cry, which was faintly answered from the fields, and Yates, who knew a thing or two, noted with secret satisfaction thatKitty had refused doubtless because he was there. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

"I tell you what it is, Renny, " said Yates, a few days after the soapepisode, as he swung in his hammock at the camp, "I'm learningsomething new every day. "

"Not really?" asked the professor in surprise. 

"Yes, really. I knew it would astonish you. My chief pleasure in life, professor, is the surprising of you. I sometimes wonder why it delightsme; it is so easily done. "

"Never mind about that. What have you been learning?"

"Wisdom, my boy; wisdom in solid chunks. In the first place, I amlearning to admire the resourcefulness of these people around us. Practically, they make everything they need. They are the most self-helping people that I was ever thrown among. I look upon theirs as theideal life. "

"I think you said something like that when we first came here. "

"I said that, you ass, about camping out. I am talking now about farmlife. Farmers eliminate the middleman pretty effectually, and that initself is going a long way toward complete happiness. Take the makingof soap, that I told you about; there you have it, cheap and good. Whenyou've made it, you know what is in it, and I'll be hanged if you dowhen you pay a big price for it in New York. Here they make prettynearly everything they need, except the wagon and the crockery; and I'mnot sure but they made them a few years back. Now, when a man with agood sharp ax and a jack-knife can do anything from building his houseto whittling out a chair, he's the most independent man on earth. Nobody lives better than these people do. Everything is fresh, sweet, and good. Perhaps the country air helps; but it seems to me I nevertasted such meals as Mrs. Bartlett, for instance, gets up. They buynothing at the stores except the tea, and I confess I prefer milkmyself. My tastes were always simple. "

"And what is the deduction?"

"Why, that this is the proper way to live. Old Hiram has an anvil andan amateur forge. He can tinker up almost anything, and that eliminatesthe blacksmith. Howard has a bench, saws, hammers, and other tools, andthat eliminates the carpenter. The women eliminate the baker, the soapboiler, and a lot of other parasites. Now, when you have eliminated allthe middlemen, then comes independence, and consequently completehappiness. You can't keep happiness away with a shotgun then. "

"But what is to become of the blacksmith, the carpenter, and all therest?"

"Let them take up land and be happy too; there's plenty of land. Theland is waiting for them. Then look how the master is eliminated. That's the most beautiful riddance of all. Even the carpenter andblacksmith usually have to work under a boss; and if not, they have todepend on the men who employ them. The farmer has to please nobody buthimself. That adds to his independence. That's why old Hiram is readyto fight the first comer on the slightest provocation. He doesn't carewhom he offends, so long as it isn't his wife. These people know how tomake what they want, and what they can't make they do without. That'sthe way to form a great nation. You raise, in this way, a self-sustaining, resolute, unconquerable people. The reason the Northconquered the South was because we drew our armies mostly from theself-reliant farming class, while we had to fight a people accustomedfor generations to having things done for them. "

"Why don't you buy a farm, Yates?"

"Several reasons. I am spoiled for the life here. I am like thedrunkard who admires a temperate life, yet can't pass a ginshop. Thecity virus is in my blood. And then, perhaps, after all, I am not quitesatisfied with the tendency of farm life; it is unfortunately in atransition state. It is at the frame-house stage, and will soon blossominto the red-brick stage. The log-house era is what I yearn for. Theneverything a person needed was made on the farm. When the brick-houseera sets in, the middleman will be rampant. I saw the other day at theHowards' a set of ancient stones that interested me as much as anAssyrian marble would interest you. They were old, home-mademillstones, and they have not been used since the frame house wasbuilt. The grist mill at the village put them out of date. And justhere, notice the subtlety of the crafty middleman. The farmer takes hisgrist to the mill, and the miller does not charge him cash for grindingit. He takes toll out of the bags, and the farmer has a vague idea thathe gets his grinding for almost nothing. The old way was the best, Renny, my boy. The farmer's son won't be as happy in the brick housewhich the mason will build for him as his grandfather was in the loghouse he built for himself. And fools call this change the advance ofcivilization. "

"There is something to be said for the old order of things, " admittedRenmark. "If a person could unite the advantages of what we callcivilization with the advantages of a pastoral life, he wouldinaugurate a condition of things that would be truly idyllic. "

"That's so, Renmark, that's so!" cried Yates enthusiastically. "Abrownstone mansion on Fifth Avenue, and a log hut on the shores of LakeSuperior! That would suit me down to the ground. Spend half the year ineach place. "

"Yes, " said the professor meditatively; "a log hut on the rocks andunder the trees, with the lake in front, would be very nice if the huthad a good library attached. "

"And a daily paper. Don't forget the press. "

"No. I draw the line there. The daily paper would mean the dailysteamer or the daily train. The one would frighten away the fish, andthe other would disturb the stillness with its whistle. "

Yates sighed. "I forgot about the drawbacks, " he said. "That's thetrouble with civilization. You can't have the things you want withoutbringing in their trail so many things you don't want. I shall have togive up the daily paper. "

"Then there is another objection, worse than either steamer or train. "

"What's that?"

"The daily paper itself. "

Yates sat up indignantly. 

"Renmark!" he cried, "that's blasphemy. For Heaven's sake, man, holdsomething sacred. If you don't respect the press, what do you respect?Not my most cherished feelings, at any rate, or you wouldn't talk inthat flippant manner. If you speak kindly of my daily paper, I'lltolerate your library. "

"And that reminds me: Have you brought any books with you, Yates? Ihave gone through most of mine already, although many of them will beargoing over again; still, I have so much time on my hands that I think Imay indulge in a little general reading. When you wrote asking me tomeet you in Buffalo, I thought you perhaps intended to tramp throughthe country, so I did not bring as many books with me as I should havedone if I had known you were going to camp out. "

Yates sprang from the hammock. 

"Books? Well, I should say so! Perhaps you think I don't read anythingbut the daily papers. I'd have you know that I am something of a readermyself. You mustn't imagine you monopolize all the culture in thetownship, professor. "

The young man went into the tent, and shortly returned with an armfulof yellow-covered, paper-bound small volumes, which he flung inprofusion at the feet of the man from Toronto. They were mostlyBeadle's Dime Novels, which had a great sale at the time. 

"There, " he said, "you have quantity, quality, and variety, as I havebefore remarked. 'The Murderous Sioux of Kalamazoo;' that's a good one. A hair-raising Indian story in every sense of the word. The one you arelooking at is a pirate story, judging by the burning ship on the cover. But for first-class highwaymen yarns, this other edition is the best. That's the 'Sixteen String Jack set. ' They're immense, if they do costa quarter each. You must begin at the right volume, or you'll be sorry. You see, they never really end, although every volume is supposed to becomplete in itself. They leave off at the most exciting point, and arecontinued in the next volume. I call that a pretty good idea, but it'srather exasperating if you begin at the last book. You'll enjoy thislot. I'm glad I brought them along. "

"It is a blessing, " said Renmark, with the ghost of a smile about hislips. "I can truthfully say that they are entirely new to me. "

"That's all right, my boy, " cried Yates loftily, with a wave of hishand. "Use them as if they were your own. "

Renmark arose leisurely and picked up a quantity of the books. 

"These will do excellently for lighting our morning camp fire, " hesaid. "And if you will allow me to treat them as if they were my own, that is the use to which I will put them. You surely do not mean to saythat you read such trash as this, Yates?"

"Trash?" exclaimed Yates indignantly. "It serves me right. That's whata man gets for being decent to you, Renny. Well, you're not compelledto read them; but if you put one of them in the fire, your stupidtreatises will follow, if they are not too solid to burn. You don'tknow good literature when you see it. "

The professor, buoyed up, perhaps, by the conceit which comes to a manthrough the possession of a real sheepskin diploma, granted by auniversity of good standing, did not think it necessary to defend hisliterary taste. He busied himself in pruning a stick he had cut in theforest, and finally he got it into the semblance of a walking cane. Hewas an athletic man, and the indolence of camp life did not suit him asit did Yates. He tested the stick in various ways when he had trimmedit to his satisfaction. 

"Are you ready for a ten-mile walk?" he asked of the man in thehammock. 

"Good gracious, no. Man wants but little walking here below, and hedoesn't want it ten miles in length either. I'm easily satisfied. You're off, are you? Well, so long. And I say, Renny, bring back somebread when you return to camp. It's the one safe thing to do. "

CHAPTER IX. 

Renmark walked through the woods and then across the fields, until hecame to the road. He avoided the habitations of man as much as hecould, for he was neither so sociably inclined nor so frequently hungryas was his companion. He strode along the road, not caring much whereit led him. Everyone he met gave him "Good-day, " after the friendlycustom of the country. Those with wagons or lighter vehicles going inhis direction usually offered him a ride, and went on, wondering that aman should choose to walk when it was not compulsory. The professor, like most silent men, found himself good company, and did not feel theneed of companionship in his walks. He had felt relieved rather thandisappointed when Yates refused to accompany him. And Yates, swingingdrowsily in his hammock, was no less gratified. Even where men are firmand intimate friends, the first few days of camping out together is asevere strain on their regard for each other. If Damon and Pythias hadoccupied a tent together for a week, the worst enemy of either, orboth, might at the end of that time have ventured into the camp insafety, and would have been welcome. 

Renmark thought of these things as he walked along. His few days'intimacy with Yates had shown him how far apart they had managed to getby following paths that diverged more and more widely the farther theywere trodden. The friendship of their youth had turned out to be merelyephemeral. Neither would now choose the other as an intimate associate. Another illusion had gone. 

"I have surely enough self-control, " said Renmark to himself, as hewalked on, "to stand his shallow flippancy for another week, and notlet him see what I think of him. "

Yates at the same time was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence ofthe camp. "That man is an exaggerated schoolmaster, with all the faultsof the species abnormally developed. If I once open out on him, he willlearn more truth about himself in ten minutes than he ever heard in hislife before. What an unbearable prig he has grown to be. " Thus ranYates' thoughts as he swung in his hammock, looking up at the ceilingof green leaves. 

Nevertheless, the case was not so bad as either of them thought. If ithad been, then were marriage not only a failure, but a practicalimpossibility. If two men can get over the first few days in campwithout a quarrel, life becomes easier, and the tension relaxes. 

Renmark, as he polished off his ten miles, paid little heed to those hemet; but one driver drew up his horse and accosted him. 

"Good-day, " he said. "How are you getting on in the tent?"

The professor was surprised at the question. Had their tenting-outeccentricity gone all over the country? He was not a quick man atrecognizing people, belonging, as he did, to the "I-remember-your-face-but-can't-recall-your-name" fraternity. It had been said of him that henever, at any one time, knew the names of more than half a dozenstudents in his class; but this was an undergraduate libel on him. Theyoung man who had accosted him was driving a single horse, attached towhat he termed a "democrat"--a four-wheeled light wagon, not so slimand elegant as a buggy, nor so heavy and clumsy as a wagon. Renmarklooked up at the driver with confused unrecognition, troubled becausehe vaguely felt that he had met him somewhere before. But his surpriseat being addressed speedily changed into amazement as he looked fromthe driver to the load. The "democrat" was heaped with books. Thelarger volumes were stuck along the sides with some regularity, and inthis way kept the miscellaneous pile from being shaken out on the road. His eye glittered with a new interest as it rested on the many-coloredbindings; and he recognized in the pile the peculiar brown covers ofthe "Bohn" edition of classic translations, that were scattered like somany turnips over the top of this ridge of literature. He rubbed hiseyes to make sure he was not dreaming. How came a farmer's boy to bedriving a wagon load of books in the wilds of the country asnonchalantly as if they were so many bushels of potatoes?

The young driver, who had stopped his horse, for the load was heavy andthe sand was deep, saw that the stranger not only did not recognizehim, but that from the moment he saw the books he had forgotteneverything else. It was evidently necessary to speak again. 

"If you are coming back, will you have a ride?" he asked. 

"I--I think I will, " said the professor, descending to earth again andclimbing up beside the boy. 

"I see you don't remember me, " said the latter, starting his horseagain. "My name is Howard. I passed you in my buggy when you werecoming in with your tent that day on the Ridge. Your partner--what'shis name--Yates, isn't it?--had dinner at our house the other day. "

"Ah, yes. I recollect you now. I thought I had seen you before; but itwas only for a moment, you know. I have a very poor memory so far aspeople are concerned. It has always been a failing of mine. Are theseyour books? And how do you happen to have such a quantity?"

"Oh, this is the library, " said young Howard. 

"The library?"

"Yes, the township library, you know. "

"Oh! The township has a library, then? I didn't know. "

"Well, it's part of it. This is a fifth part. You know about townshiplibraries, don't you? Your partner said you were a college man. "

Renmark blushed at his own ignorance, but he was never reluctant toadmit it. 

"I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I know nothing of townshiplibraries. Please, tell me about them. "

Young Howard was eager to give information to a college man, especiallyon the subject of books, which he regarded as belonging to the provinceof college-bred men. He was pleased also to discover that city peopledid not know everything. He had long had the idea that they did, andthis belief had been annoyingly corroborated by the cocksureness ofYates. The professor evidently was a decent fellow, who did not pretendto universal knowledge. This was encouraging. He liked Renmark betterthan Yates, and was glad he had offered him a ride, although, ofcourse, that was the custom; still, a person with one horse and a heavyload is exempt on a sandy road. 

"Well, you see, " he said in explanation, "it's like this: The townshipvotes a sum of money, say a hundred dollars, or two hundred, as thecase may be. They give notice to the Government of the amount voted, and the Government adds the same amount to the township money. It'slike the old game: you think of a number, and they double it. TheGovernment has a depository of books, in Toronto, I think, and theysell them cheaper than the bookstores do. At any rate, the four hundreddollars' worth are bought, or whatever the amount is, and the books arethe property of the township. Five persons are picked out in thetownship as librarians, and they have to give security. My father islibrarian for this section. The library is divided into five parts, andeach librarian gets a share. Once a year I go to the next section andget all their books. They go to the next section, again, and get allthe books at that place. A man comes to our house to-day and takes allwe have. So we get a complete change every year, and in five years weget back the first batch, which by that time we have forgotten allabout. To-day is changing day all around. "

"And the books are lent to any person in each section who wishes toread them?" asked the professor. 

"Yes. Margaret keeps a record, and a person can have a book out for twoweeks; after that time there is a fine, but Margaret never finesanyone. "

"And do people have to pay to take out the books?"

"Not likely!" said Howard with fine contempt. "You wouldn't expectpeople to pay for reading books; would you, now?"

"No, I suppose not. And who selected the volumes?"

"Well, the township can select the books if it likes, or it can send acommittee to select them; but they didn't think it worth the troubleand expense. People grumbled enough at wasting money on books as itwas, even if they did buy them at half price. Still, others said it wasa pity not to get the money out of the Government when they had thechance. I don't believe any of them cared very much about the books, except father and a few others. So the Government chose the books. They'll do that if you leave it to them. And a queer lot of trash theysent, if you take my word for it. I believe they shoved off on us allthe things no on else would buy. Even when they did pick out novels, they were just as tough as the history books. 'Adam Bede' is one. Theysay that's a novel. I tried it, but I would rather read the history ofJosephus any day. There's some fighting in that, if it is a history. Then there's any amount of biography books. They're no good. There's a'History of Napoleon. ' Old Bartlett's got that, and he won't give itup. He says he was taxed for the library against his will. He daresthem to go to law about it, and it aint worth while for one book. Theother sections are all asking for that book; not that they want it, butthe whole country knows that old Bartlett's a-holding on to it, sothey'd like to see some fun. Bartlett's read that book fourteen times, and it's all he knows. I tell Margaret she ought to fine him, and keepon fining, but she won't do it. I guess Bartlett thinks the bookbelongs to him by this time. Margaret likes Kitty and Mrs. Bartlett, --so does everybody, --but old Bartlett's a seed. There he sits now on hisveranda, and it's a wonder he's not reading the 'History of Napoleon. '"

They were passing the Bartlett house, and young Howard raised his voiceand called out:

"I say, Mr. Bartlett, we want that Napoleon book. This is changing day, you know. Shall I come up for it, or will you bring it down? If youfetch it to the gate, I'll cart it home now. "

The old man paid no heed to what was said to him; but Mrs. Bartlett, attracted by the outcry, came to the door. 

"You go along with your books, you young rascal!" she cried, comingdown to the gate when she saw the professor. "That's a nice way tocarry bound books, as if they were a lot of bricks. I'll warrant youhave lost a dozen between Mallory's and here. But easy come, easy go. It's plain to be seen they didn't cost you anything. I don't know whatthe world's a-coming to when the township spends its money in books, asif taxes weren't heavy enough already. Won't you come in, Mr. Renmark?Tea's on the table. "

"Mr. Renmark's coming with me this trip, Mrs. Bartlett, " young Howardsaid before the professor had time to reply; "but I'll come over andtake tea, if you'll invite me, as soon as I have put the horse up. "

"You go along with your nonsense, " she said; "I know you. " Then in alower voice she asked: "How is your mother, Henry--and Margaret?"

"They're pretty well, thanks. "

"Tell them I'm going to run over to see them some day soon, but thatneed not keep them from coming to see me. The old man's going to townto-morrow, " and with this hint, after again inviting the professor to ameal, she departed up the path to the house. 

"I think I'll get down here, " said Renmark, halfway between the twohouses. "I am very much obliged to you for the ride, and also for whatyou told me about the books. It was very interesting. "

"Nonsense!" cried young Howard; "I'm not going to let you do anythingof the sort. You're coming home with me. You want to see the books, don't you? Very well, then, come along, Margaret is always impatient onchanging day, she's so anxious to see the books, and father generallycomes in early from the fields for the same reason. "

As they approached the Howard homestead they noticed Margaret waitingfor them at the gate; but when the girl saw that a stranger was in thewagon, she turned and walked into the house. Renmark, seeing thisretreat, regretted he had not accepted Mrs. Bartlett's invitation. Hewas a sensitive man, and did not realize that others were sometimes asshy as himself. He felt he was intruding, and that at a sacred moment--the moment of the arrival of the library. He was such a lover of books, and valued so highly the privilege of being alone with them, that hefancied he saw in the abrupt departure of Margaret the same feeling ofresentment he would himself have experienced if a visitor hadencroached upon him in his favorite nook in the fine room that held thelibrary of the university. 

When the wagon stopped in the lane, Renmark said hesitatingly:

"I think I'll not stay, if you don't mind. My friend is waiting for meat the camp, and will be wondering what has become of me. "

"Who? Yates? Let him wonder. I guess he never bothers about anybodyelse as long as he is comfortable himself. That's how I sized him up, at any rate. Besides, you're never going back on carrying in the books, are you? I counted on your help. I don't want to do it, and it don'tseem the square thing to let Margaret do it all alone; does it, now?"

"Oh, if I can be of any assistance, I shall----"

"Of course you can. Besides, I know my father wants to see you, anyhow. Don't you, father?"

The old man was coming round from the back of the house to meet them. 

"Don't I what?" he asked. 

"You said you wanted to see Professor Renmark when Margaret told youwhat Yates had said to her about him. "

Renmark reddened slightly at finding so many people had made him thesubject of conversation, rather suspecting at the same time that theboy was making fun of him. Mr. Howard cordially held out his hand. 

"So this is Professor Renmark, is it? I am very pleased to see you. Yes, as Henry was saying, I have been wanting to see you ever since mydaughter spoke of you. I suppose Henry told you that his brother is apupil of yours?"

"Oh! is Arthur Howard your son?" cried Renmark, warming up at once. "Idid not know it. There are many young men at the college, and I havebut the vaguest idea from what parts of the country they all come. Ateacher should have no favorites, but I must confess to a strong likingfor your son. He is a good boy, which cannot be said about every memberof my class. "

"Arthur was always studious, so we thought we would give him a chance. I am glad to hear he behaves himself in the city. Farming is hard work, and I hope my boys will have an easier time than I had. But come in, come in. The missus and Margaret will be glad to see you, and hear howthe boy is coming on with his studies. "

So they went in together. 

CHAPTER X. 

"Hello! Hello, there! Wake up! Breakfa-a-a-st! I thought that wouldfetch you. Gosh! I wish I had your job at a dollar a day!"

Yates rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the hammock. At first he thoughtthe forest was tumbling down about his ears, but as he collected hiswits he saw that it was only young Bartlett who had come crashingthrough the woods on the back of one horse, while he led another by astrap attached to a halter. The echo of his hearty yell stillresounded in the depths of the woods, and rang in Yates' ears as hepulled himself together. 

"Did you--ah--make any remarks?" asked Yates quietly. 

The boy admired his gift of never showing surprise. 

"I say, don't you know that it's not healthy to go to sleep in themiddle of the day?"

"Is it the middle of the day? I thought it was later. I guess I canstand it, if the middle of the day can. I've a strong constitution. Now, what do you mean by dashing up on two horses into a man's bedroomin that reckless fashion?"

The boy laughed. 

"I thought perhaps you would like a ride. I knew you were alone, for Isaw the professor go mooning up the road a little while ago. "

"Oh! Where was he going?"

"Hanged if I know, and he didn't look as if he knew himself. He's aqueer fish, aint he?"

"He is. Everybody can't be as sensible and handsome as we are, youknow. Where are you going with those horses, young man?"

"To get them shod. Won't you come along? You can ride the horse I'm on. It's got a bridle. I'll ride the one with the halter. "

"How far away is the blacksmith's shop?"

"Oh, a couple of miles or so; down at the Cross Roads. "

"Well, " said Yates, "there's merit in the idea. I take it your generousoffer is made in good faith, and not necessarily for publication. "

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"There is no concealed joke, is there? No getting me on the back of oneof those brutes to make a public exhibition of me? Do they bite or kickor buck, or playfully roll over a person?"

"No, " cried, young Bartlett indignantly. "This is no circus. Why, ababy could ride this horse. "

"Well, that's about the style of horse I prefer. You see, I'm a trifleout of practice. I never rode anything more spirited than a street car, and I haven't been on one of them for a week. "

"Oh, you can ride all right. I guess you could do most things you setyour mind to. "

Yates was flattered by this evidently sincere tribute to his capacity, so he got out of the hammock. The boy, who had been sitting on thehorse with both feet on one side, now straightened his back and slippedto the ground. 

"Wait till I throw down the fence, " he said. 

Yates mounted with some difficulty, and the two went trotting down theroad. He managed to hold his place with some little uncertainty, butthe joggling up and down worried him. He never seemed to alight inquite the same place on the horse's back, and this gave an element ofchance to his position which embarrassed him. He expected to come downsome time and find the horse wasn't there. The boy laughed at hisriding, but Yates was too much engaged in keeping his position to mindthat very much. 

"D-d-dirt is s-s-said to b-b-be matter out of place, and that's what'sthe m-m-mat-matter w-w-with me. " His conversation seemed to be shakenout of him by the trotting of the horse. "I say, Bartlett, I can'tstand this any longer. I'd rather walk. "

"You're all right, " said the boy; "we'll make him canter. "

He struck the horse over the flank with the loose end of the halterrein. 

"Here!" shouted Yates, letting go the bridle and grasping the mane. "Don't make him go faster, you young fiend. I'll murder you when I getoff--and that will be soon. "

"You're all right, " repeated young Bartlett, and, much to hisastonishment, Yates found it to be so. When the horse broke into acanter, Yates thought the motion as easy as swinging in a hammock, andas soothing as a rocking chair. 

"This is an improvement. But we've got to keep it up, for if this brutesuddenly changes to a trot, I'm done for. "

"We'll keep it up until we come in sight of the Corners, then we'llslow down to a walk. There's sure to be a lot of fellows at theblacksmith's shop, so we'll come in on them easy like. "

"You're a good fellow, Bartlett, " said Yates. "I suspected you oftricks at first. I'm afraid, if I had got another chap in such a fix, Iwouldn't have let him off as easily as you have me. The temptationwould have been too great. "

When they reached the blacksmith's shop at the Corners, they found fourhorses in the building ahead of them. Bartlett tied his team outside, and then, with his comrade, entered the wide doorway of the smithy. Theshop was built of rough boards, and the inside was blackened with soot. It was not well lighted, the two windows being obscured with muchsmoke, so that they were useless as far as their original purpose wasconcerned; but the doorway, as wide as that of a barn, allowed all thelight to come in that the smith needed for his work. At the far end anddarkest corner of the place stood the forge, with the large bellowsbehind it, concealed, for the most part, by the chimney. The forge wasperhaps six feet square and three or four feet high, built of plank andfilled in with earth. The top was covered with cinders and coal, whilein the center glowed the red core of the fire, with blue flameshovering over it. The man who worked the bellows chewed tobacco, andnow and then projected the juice with deadly accuracy right into thecenter of the fire, where it made a momentary hiss and dark spot. Allthe frequenters of the smithy admired Sandy's skill in expectoration, and many tried in vain to emulate it. The envious said it was due tothe peculiar formation of his front teeth, the upper row beingprominent, and the two middle teeth set far apart, as if one weremissing. But this was jealousy; Sandy's perfection in the art was dueto no favoritism of nature, but to constant and long-continuedpractice. Occasionally with his callous right hand, never removing hisleft from the lever, Sandy pulled an iron bar out of the fire andexamined it critically. The incandescent end of the bar radiated ablinding white light when it was gently withdrawn, and illuminated theman's head, making his beardless face look, against its darkbackground, like the smudged countenance of some cynical demon glowingwith a fire from within. The end of the bar which he held must havebeen very hot to an ordinary mortal, as everyone in the shop knew, allof them, at their initiation to the country club, having been handed ablack piece of iron from Sandy's hand, which he held unflinchingly, butwhich the innocent receiver usually dropped with a yell. This wasSandy's favorite joke, and made life worth living for him. It wasperhaps not so good as the blacksmith's own bit of humor, but publicopinion was divided on that point. Every great man has his ownparticular set of admirers; and there were some who said, --under theirbreaths, of course, --that Sandy could turn a horseshoe as well asMacdonald himself. Experts, however, while admitting Sandy's generalgenius, did not go so far as this. 

About half a dozen members of the club were present, and most of themstood leaning against something with hands deep in their trouserspockets; one was sitting on the blacksmith's bench, with his legsdangling down. On the bench tools were scattered around so thickly thathe had had to clear a place before he could sit down; the taking ofthis liberty proved the man to be an old and privileged member. He satthere whittling a stick, aimlessly bringing it to a fine point, examining it frequently with a critical air, as if he were engaged insome delicate operation which required great discrimination. 

The blacksmith himself stooped with his back to one of the horses, thehind hoof of the animal, between his knees, resting on his leathernapron. The horse was restive, looking over its shoulder at him, notliking what was going on. Macdonald swore at it fluently, and requestedit to stand still, holding the foot as firmly as if it were in his owniron vise, which was fixed to the table near the whittler. With hisright hand he held a hot horseshoe, attached to an iron punch that hadbeen driven into one of the nail holes, and this he pressed against theupraised hoof, as though sealing a document with a gigantic seal. Smokeand flame rose from the contact of the hot iron with the hoof, and theair was filled with the not unpleasant odor of burning horn. Thesmith's tool box, with hammer, pinchers, and nails, lay on the earthernfloor within easy reach. The sweat poured from his grimy brow; for itwas a hot job, and Macdonald was in the habit of making the most of hiswork. He was called the hardest working man in that part of thecountry, and he was proud of the designation. He was a standingreproach to the loafers who frequented his shop, and that fact gave himpleasure in their company. Besides, a man must have an audience when heis an expert in swearing. Macdonald's profanity was largely automatic, --anatural gift, as it were, --and he meant nothing wrong by it. In fact, when you got him fighting angry, he always forgot to swear; but in hiscalm moments oaths rolled easily and picturesquely from his lips, andgave fluency to his conversation. Macdonald enjoyed the reputationround about of being a wicked man, which he was not; his language wasagainst him, that was all. This reputation had a misty halo thrownaround it by Macdonald's unknown doings "down East, " from whichmystical region he had come. No one knew just what Macdonald had done, but it was admitted on all sides that he must have had some terribleexperiences, although he was still a young man and unmarried. He usedto say: "When you have come through what I have, you won't be so readyto pick a quarrel with a man. "

This must have meant something significant, but the blacksmith nevertook anyone into his confidence; and "down East" is a vague place, asort of indefinite, unlocalized no-man's-land, situated anywherebetween Toronto and Quebec. Almost anything might have happened in sucha space of country. Macdonald's favorite way of crushing an opponentwas to say: "When you've had some of my experiences, young man, you'llknow better'n to talk like that. " All this gave a certain fascinationto friendship with the blacksmith; and the farmers' boys felt that theywere playing with fire when in his company, getting, as it were, aglimpse of the dangerous side of life. As for work, the blacksmithreveled in it, and made it practically his only vice. He did everythingwith full steam on, and was, as has been said, a constant reproach toloafers all over the country. When there was no work to do, he madework. When there was work to do, he did it with a rush, sweeping thesweat from his grimy brow with his hooked fore finger, and flecking itto the floor with a flirt of the right hand, loose on the wrist, in away that made his thumb and fore finger snap together like the crack ofa whip. This action was always accompanied with a long-drawn breath, almost a sigh, that seemed to say: "I wish I had the easy times youfellows have. " In fact, since he came to the neighborhood the currentphrase, "He works like a steer" had given way to, "He works likeMacdonald, " except with the older people, who find it hard to changephrases. Yet everyone liked the blacksmith, and took no special offenseat his untiring industry, looking at it rather as an example to others. 

He did not look up as the two newcomers entered, but industriouslypared down the hoof with a curiously formed knife turned like a hook atthe point, burned in the shoe to its place, nailed it on, and raspedthe hoof into shape with a long, broad file. Not till he let the footdrop on the earthen floor, and slapped the impatient horse on theflank, did he deign to answer young Bartlett's inquiry. 

"No, " he said, wringing the perspiration from his forehead, "all thesehorses aint ahead of you, and you won't need to come next week. That'sthe last hoof of the last horse. No man needs to come to my shop and goaway again, while the breath of life is left in me. And I don't do it, either, by sitting on a bench and whittling a stick. "

"That's so. That's so, " said Sandy, chuckling, in the admiring tone ofone who intimated that, when the boss spoke, wisdom was uttered. "That's one on you, Sam. "

"I guess I can stand it, if he can, " said the whittler from the bench;which was considered fair repartee. 

"Sit it, you mean, " said young Bartlett, laughing with the others athis own joke. 

"But, " said the blacksmith severely, "we're out of shoes, and you'llhave to wait till we turn some, that is, if you don't want the old onesreset. Are they good enough?"

"I guess so, if you can find 'em; but they're out in the fields. Didn'tthink I'd bring the horses in while they held on, did you?" Then, suddenly remembering his duties, he said by, way of generalintroduction: "Gentlemen, this is my friend Mr. Yates from New York. "

The name seemed to fall like a wet blanket on the high spirits of thecrowd. They had imagined from the cut of his clothes that he was astorekeeper from some village around, or an auctioneer from a distance, these two occupations being the highest social position to which a manmight attain. They were prepared to hear that he was from Welland, orperhaps St. Catherines; but New York! that was a crusher. Macdonald, however, was not a man to be put down in his own shop and before hisown admirers. He was not going to let his prestige slip from him merelybecause a man from New York had happened along. He could not claim toknow the city, for the stranger would quickly detect the imposture andprobably expose him; but the slightly superior air which Yates woreirritated him, while it abashed the others. Even Sandy was silent. 

"I've met some people from New York down East, " he said in an offhandmanner, as if, after all, a man might meet a New Yorker and still notsink into the ground. 

"Really?" said Yates. "I hope you liked them. "

"Oh, so-so, " replied the blacksmith airily. "There's good and bad amongthem, like the rest of us. "

"Ah, you noticed that, " said Yates. "Well, I've often thought the samemyself. It's a safe remark to make; there is generally no disputingit. "

The condescending air of the New Yorker was maddening, and Macdonaldrealized that he was losing ground. The quiet insolence of Yates' tonewas so exasperating to the blacksmith that he felt any language at hisdisposal inadequate to cope with it. The time for the practical jokehad arrived. The conceit of this man must be taken down. He would trySandy's method, and, if that failed, it would at least draw attentionfrom himself to his helper. 

"Being as you're from New York, maybe you can decide a little bet Sandyhere wants to have with somebody. "

Sandy, quick to take the hint, picked up the bar that always lay nearenough the fire to be uncomfortably warm. 

"How much do you reckon that weighs?" he said, with critical nicetyestimating its ounces in his swaying hand. Sandy had never done itbetter. There was a look of perfect innocence on his bland, unsophisticated countenance, and the crowd looked on in breathlesssuspense. 

Bartlett was about to step forward and save his friend, but a wickedglare from Macdonald restrained him; besides, he felt, somehow, thathis sympathies were with his neighbors, and not with the stranger hehad brought among them. He thought resentfully that Yates might havebeen less high and mighty. In fact, when he asked him to come he hadimagined his brilliancy would be instantly popular, and would reflectglory on himself. Now he fancied he was included in the general scornYates took such little pains to conceal. 

Yates glanced at the piece of iron and, without taking his hands fromhis pockets, said carelessly:

"Oh, I should imagine it weighed a couple of pounds. "

"Heft it, " said Sandy beseechingly, holding it out to him. 

"No, thank you, " replied Yates, with a smile. "Do you think I havenever picked up a hot horseshoe before? If you are anxious to know itsweight, why don't you take it over to the grocery store and have itweighed?"

"'Taint hot, " said Sandy, as he feebly smiled and flung the iron backon the forge. "If it was, I couldn't have held it s'long. "

"Oh, no, " returned Yates, with a grin, "of course not. I don't knowwhat a blacksmith's hands are, do I? Try something fresh. "

Macdonald saw there was no triumph over him among his crowd, for theyall evidently felt as much involved in the failure of Sandy's trick ashe did himself; but he was sure that in future some man, hard pushed inargument, would fling the New Yorker at him. In the crisis he showedthe instinct of a Napoleon. 

"Well, boys, " he cried, "fun's fun, but I've got to work. I have toearn my living, anyhow. "

Yates enjoyed his victory; they wouldn't try "getting at" him again, hesaid to himself. 

Macdonald strode to the forge and took out the bar of white-hot iron. He gave a scarcely perceptible nod to Sandy, who, ever ready withtobacco juice, spat with great directness on the top of the anvil. Macdonald placed the hot iron on the spot, and quickly smote it astalwart blow with the heavy hammer. The result was appalling. Aninstantaneous spreading fan of apparently molten iron lit up the placeas if it were a flash of lightning. There was a crash like the burstingof a cannon. The shop was filled for a moment with a shower ofbrilliant sparks, that flew like meteors to every corner of the place. Everyone was prepared for the explosion except Yates. He sprang backwith a cry, tripped, and, without having time to get the use of hishands to ease his fall, tumbled and rolled to the horses' heels. Theanimals, frightened by the report, stamped around; and Yates had tohustle on his hands and knees to safer quarters, exhibiting morecelerity than dignity. The blacksmith never smiled, but everyone elseroared. The reputation of the country was safe. Sandy doubled himselfup in his boisterous mirth. 

"There's no one like the old man!" he shouted. "Oh, lordy! lordy! He'sall wool, and a yard wide. "

Yates picked himself up and dusted himself off, laughing with the restof them. 

"If I ever knew that trick before, I had forgotten it. That's one onme, as this youth in spasms said a moment ago. Blacksmith, shake! I'lltreat the crowd, if there's a place handy. "

CHAPTER XI. 

People who have but a superficial knowledge of the life and times hereset down may possibly claim that the grocery store, and not theblacksmith's shop, used to be the real country club--the place wherethe politics of the country were discussed; where the doings of greatmen were commended or condemned, and the government criticised. It istrue that the grocery store was the club of the village, when a placelike the Corners grew to be a village; but the blacksmith's shop wasusually the first building erected on the spot where a village wasultimately to stand. It was the nucleus. As a place grew, andenervating luxury set in, the grocery store slowly supplanted theblacksmith's shop, because people found a nail keg, or a box ofcrackers, more comfortable to sit on than the limited seats at theirdisposal in a smithy; moreover, in winter the store, with its red-hotbox stove, was a place of warmth and joy, but the reveling in such anatmosphere of comfort meant that the members of the club had to liveclose at hand, for no man would brave the storms of a Canadian winternight, and journey a mile or two through the snow, to enjoy even thepleasures of the store. So the grocery was essentially a village club, and not a rural club. 

Of course, as civilization advanced, the blacksmith found it impossibleto compete with the grocer. He could not offer the same inducements. The grocery approached more nearly than the smithy the gratefulepicurism of the Athenaeum, the Reform, or the Carlton. It catered tothe appetite of man, besides supplying him with the intellectualstimulus of debate. A box of soda crackers was generally open, and, although such biscuits were always dry, they were good to munch, ifconsumed slowly. The barrel of hazel nuts never had a lid on. Theraisins, in their square box, with blue-tinted paper, setting forth theword "Malaga" under the colored picture of joyous Spanish grapepickers, stood on the shelves behind the counter, at an angle suited todisplay the contents to all comers, requiring an exceptionally longreach, and more than an ordinary amount of cheek, before they were gotat; but the barrel of Muscavado brown sugar was where everyone coulddip his hand in; while the man on the keg of tenpenny nails mightextend his arm over into the display window, where the highly coloredcandies exhibited themselves, although the person who meddled oftenwith them was frowned upon, for it was etiquette in the club not topurloin things which were expensive. The grocer himself drew the lineat the candies, and a second helping usually brought forth the mildreproof:

"Shall I charge that, Sam; or would you rather pay for it now?"

All these delicacies were taken in a somewhat surreptitious way, andthe takers generally wore an absent-minded look, as if the purloiningwas not quite intentional on their part. But they were all goodcustomers of the grocer, and the abstractions were doubtless looked onby him as being in the way of trade; just as the giving of a presentwith a pound of tea, or a watch with a suit of clothes, became in laterdays. Be that as it may, he never said anything unless his generositywas taken advantage of, which was rarely the case. 

Very often on winter nights there was a hilarious feast, that helped tolighten the shelves and burden the till. This ordinarily took the formof a splurge in cove oysters. Cove oysters came from Baltimore, ofcourse, in round tins; they were introduced into Canada long before thesquare tin boxes that now come in winter from the same bivalvular city. Cove oysters were partly cooked before being tinned, so that theywould, as the advertisements say, keep in any climate. They did notrequire ice around them, as do the square tins which now contain theraw oysters. Someone present would say:

"What's the matter with having a feed of cove oysters?"

He then collected a subscription of ten cents or so from each member, and the whole was expended in several cans of oysters and a few poundsof crackers. The cooking was done in a tin basin on the top of the hotstove. The contents of the cans were emptied into this handy dish, milkwas added, and broken crackers, to give thickness and consistency tothe result. There were always plenty of plates, for the store suppliedthe crockery of the neighborhood. There were also plenty of spoons, foreverything was to be had at the grocery. What more could the mostexacting man need? On a particularly reckless night the feast endedwith several tins of peaches, which needed no cooking, but only asprinkling of sugar. The grocer was always an expert at cooking coveoysters and at opening tins of peaches. 

There was a general feeling among the members that, by indulging inthese banquets, they were going the pace rather; and some of the olderheads feebly protested against the indulgence of the times, but it wasnoticed that they never refrained from doing their share when it cameto spoon work. 

"A man has but one life to live, " the younger and more reckless wouldsay, as if that excused the extravagance; for a member rarely got awaywithout being fifteen cents out of pocket, especially when they hadpeaches as well as oysters. 

The grocery at the Corners had been but recently established and as yetthe blacksmith's shop had not looked upon it as a rival. Macdonald wasmonarch of all he surveyed, and his shop was the favorite gatheringplace for miles around. The smithy was also the patriotic center of thedistrict, as a blacksmith's shop must be as long as anvils can take theplace of cannon for saluting purposes. On the 24th of May, the queen'sbirthday, celebrated locally as the only day in the year, exceptSundays, when Macdonald's face was clean and when he did no work, thefiring of the anvils aroused the echoes of the locality. On that greatday the grocer supplied the powder, which was worth three Yorkshillings a pound--a York shilling being sixpence halfpenny. It tooktwo men to carry an anvil, with a good deal of grunting; but Macdonald, if the crowd were big enough, made nothing of picking it up, hoistingit on his shoulder, and flinging it down on the green in front of hisshop. In the iron mass there is a square hole, and when the anvil wasplaced upside down, the hole was uppermost. It was filled with powder, and a wooden plug, with a notch cut in it, was pounded in with a sledgehammer. Powder was sprinkled from the notch over the surface of theanvil, and then the crowd stood back and held its breath. It was a mostexciting moment. Macdonald would come running out of the shopbareheaded, holding a long iron bar, the wavering, red-hot end of whichdescended on the anvil, while the blacksmith shouted in a terrifyingvoice: "Look out, there!" The loose powder hissed and spat for amoment, then bang went the cannon, and a great cloud of smoke rolledupward, while the rousing cheers came echoing back from the surroundingforests. The helper, with the powder-horn, would spring to the anviland pour the black explosive into the hole, while another stood readywith plug and hammer. The delicious scent of burned gunpowder filledthe air, and was inhaled by all the youngsters with satisfaction, fornow they realized what real war was. Thus the salutes were fired, andthus the royal birthday was fittingly celebrated. 

Where two anvils were to be had, the cannonade was much brisker, asthen a plug was not needed. The hole in the lower anvil was filled withpowder, and the other anvil was placed over it. This was much quickerthan pounding in a plug, and had quite as striking and detonating aneffect. The upper anvil gave a heave, like Mark Twain's shot-ladenfrog, and fell over on its side. The smoke rolled up as usual, and thereport was equally gratifying. 

Yates learned all these things as he sat in the blacksmith's shop, forthey were still in the month of May, and the smoke of the echoinganvils had hardly yet cleared away. All present were eager to tell himof the glory of the day. One or two were good enough to express regretthat he had not been there to see. After the disaster which hadoverturned Yates things had gone on very smoothly, and he had becomeone of the crowd, as it were. The fact that he was originally aCanadian told in his favor, although he had been contaminated by longresidence in the States. 

Macdonald worked hard at the turning of horseshoes from long rods ofiron. Usually an extended line of unfinished shoes bestrode a blackenedscantling, like bodiless horsemen, the scantling crossing the shopoverhead, just under the roof. These were the work of Macdonald'scomparatively leisure days, and they were ready to be fitted to thehoofs of any horse that came to be shod, but on this occasion there hadbeen such a run on his stock that it was exhausted, a depletion thesmith seemed to regard as a reproach on himself, for he told Yatesseveral times that he often had as many as three dozen shoes up aloftfor a rainy day. 

When the sledge hammer work was to be done, one of those presentstepped forward and swung the heavy sledge, keeping stroke for strokewith Macdonald's one-handed hammer, all of which required a nice earfor time. This assistance was supposed to be rendered by Sandy; but, ashe remarked, he was no hog, and anyone who wished to show his skill wasat liberty to do so. Sandy seemed to spend most of his time at thebellows, and when he was not echoing the sentiments of the boss, as hecalled him, he was commending the expertness of the _pro tem. _amateur, the wielder of the sledge. It was fun to the amateur, and itwas an old thing with Sandy, so he never protested against thisinterference with his duty, believing in giving everyone a chance, especially when it came to swinging a heavy hammer. The whole scenebrought back to Yates the days of his youth, especially when Macdonald, putting the finishing strokes to his shoe, let his hammer periodicallytinkle with musical clangor on the anvil, ringing forth atintinnabulation that chimed melodiously on the ear--a sort of anvil-chorus accompaniment to his mechanical skill. He was a real sleight-of-hand man, and the anvil was his orchestra. 

Yates soon began to enjoy his visit to the rural club. As the membersthawed out he found them all first-rate fellows, and, what was more, they were appreciative listeners. His stories were all evidently new tothem, and nothing puts a man into a genial frame of mind so quickly asan attentive, sympathetic audience. Few men could tell a story betterthan Yates, but he needed the responsive touch of interested hearers. He hated to have to explain the points of his anecdotes, as, indeed, what story-teller does not? A cold and critical man like the professorfroze the spring of narration at its source. Besides, Renmark had anobjectionable habit of tracing the recital to its origin; it annoyedYates to tell a modern yarn, and then discover that Aristophanes, orsome other prehistoric poacher on the good things men were to say, hadforestalled him by a thousand years or so. When a man is quick to seethe point of your stories, and laughs heartily at them, you are apt toform a high opinion of his good sense, and to value his companionship. 

When the horses were shod, and young Bartlett, who was delighted at theimpression Yates had made, was preparing to go, the whole companyprotested against the New Yorker's departure. This was real flattery. 

"What's your hurry, Bartlett?" asked the whittler. "You can't doanything this afternoon, if you do go home. It's a poor time this tomend a bad day's work. If you stay, he'll stay; won't you, Mr. Yates?Macdonald is going to set tires, and he needs us all to look on and seethat he does it right; don't you, Mac?"

"Yes; I get a lot of help from you while there's a stick to whittle, "replied the smith. 

"Then there's the protracted meeting to-night at the schoolhouse, " putin another, anxious that all the attractions of the place should bebrought forward. 

"That's so, " said the whittler; "I had forgotten about that. It's thefirst night, so we must all be there to encourage old Benderson. You'llbe on hand to-night, won't you, Macdonald?"

The blacksmith made no answer, but turned to Sandy and asked himsavagely what in ---- and ---nation he was standing gawking there for. Whydidn't he go outside and get things ready for the tire setting? What inthunder was he paying him for, anyhow? Wasn't there enough loafersround, without him joining the ranks?

Sandy took this rating with equanimity, and, when the smith's back wasturned, he shrugged his shoulders, took a fresh bite of tobacco fromthe plug which he drew from his hip pocket, winking at the others as hedid so. He leisurely followed Macdonald out of the shop, saying in awhisper as he passed the whittler:

"I wouldn't rile the old man, if I were you. "

The club then adjourned to the outside, all except those who sat on thebench. Yates asked:

"What's the matter with Macdonald? Doesn't he like protracted meetings?And, by the way, what are protracted meetings?"

"They're revival meetings--religious meetings, you know, for convertingsinners. "

"Really?" said Yates. "But why protracted? Are they kept on for a weekor two?"

"Yes; I suppose that's why, although, to tell the truth, I never knewthe reason for the name. Protracted meetings always stood for just thesame thing ever since I was a boy, and we took it as meaning that onething, without thinking why. "

"And doesn't Macdonald like them?"

"Well, you see, it's like this: He never wants to go to a protractedmeeting, yet he can't keep away. He's like a drunkard and the cornertavern. He can't pass it, and he knows if he goes in he will fall. Macdonald's always the first one to go up to the penitent bench. Theyrake him in every time. He has religion real bad for a couple of weeks, and then he backslides. He doesn't seem able to stand either theconverting or the backsliding. I suppose some time they will gather himin finally, and he will stick and become a class leader, but he hasn'tstuck up to date. "

"Then he doesn't like to hear the subject spoken of?"

"You bet he don't. It isn't safe to twit him about it either. To tellthe truth, I was pleased when I heard him swear at Sandy; then I knewit was all right, and Sandy can stand it. Macdonald is a bad man totackle when he's mad. There's nobody in this district can handle him. I'd sooner get a blow from a sledge hammer than meet Mac's fist whenhis dander is up. But so long as he swears it's all right. Say, you'llstay down for the meeting, won't you?"

"I think I will. I'll see what young Bartlett intends to do. It isn'tvery far to walk, in any case. "

"There will be lots of nice girls going your way to-night after themeeting. I don't know but I'll jog along in that direction myself whenit's over. That's the principal use I have for the meetings, anyhow. "

The whittler and Yates got down from the bench, and joined the crowdoutside. Young Bartlett sat on one of the horses, loath to leave whilethe tire setting was going on. 

"Are you coming, Yates?" he shouted, as his comrade appeared. 

"I think I'll stay for the meeting, " said Yates, approaching him andpatting the horse. He had no desire for mounting and riding away in thepresence of that critical assemblage. 

"All right, " said young Bartlett. "I guess I'll be down at the meeting, too; then I can show you the way home. "

"Thanks, " said Yates; "I'll be on the lookout for you. "

Young Bartlett galloped away, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud ofdust. The others had also departed with their shod horses; but therewere several new arrivals, and the company was augmented rather thandiminished. They sat around on the fence, or on the logs dumped down bythe wayside. 

Few smoked, but many chewed tobacco. It was a convenient way of usingthe weed, and required no matches, besides being safer for men who hadto frequent inflammable barns. 

A circular fire burned in front of the shop, oak bark being the mainfuel used. Iron wagon tires lay hidden in this burning circle. Macdonald and Sandy bustled about making preparations, their faces, more hideous in the bright sunlight than in the comparative obscurityof the shop, giving them the appearance of two evil spirits about toattend some incantation scene of which the circular fire was thevisible indication. Crosstrees, of four pieces of squared timber, laynear the fire, with a tireless wheel placed flat upon them, the hub inthe square hole at the center. Shiftless farmers always resisted havingtires set until they would no longer stay on the wheel. The inevitableday was postponed, time and again, by a soaking of the wheelsovernight in some convenient puddle of water; but as the warmer anddryer weather approached this device, supplemented by wooden wedges, nolonger sufficed, and the tires had to be set for summer work. Frequently the tire rolled off on the sandy highway, and the farmer wasreluctantly compelled to borrow a rail from the nearest fence, andplace it so as to support the axle; he then put the denuded wheel andits tire on the wagon, and drove slowly to the nearest blacksmith'sshop, his vehicle "trailing like a wounded duck, " the rail leaving asnake's track behind it on the dusty road. 

The blacksmith had previously cut and welded the tire, reducing itscircumference, and when it was hot enough, he and Sandy, each with apair of tongs, lifted it from the red-hot circle of fire. It waspressed and hammered down on the blazing rim of the wheel, andinstantly Sandy and Macdonald, with two pails of water that stoodhandy, poured the cold liquid around the red-hot zone, envelopingthemselves in clouds of steam, the quick contraction clamping the ironon the wood until the joints cracked together. There could be noloitering; quick work was necessary, or a spoiled wheel was the result. Macdonald, alternately spluttering through fire and steam, was in hiselement. Even Sandy had to be on the keen jump, without a moment tocall his plug of tobacco his own. Macdonald fussed and fussed, but gotthrough an immense amount of work in an incredibly short space of time, cursing Sandy pretty much all the while; yet that useful man neverreplied in kind, contenting himself with a wink at the crowd when hegot the chance, and saying under his breath:

"The old man's in great fettle to-day. "

Thus everybody enjoyed himself: Macdonald, because he was the centerfigure in a saturnalia of work; Sandy, because no matter how hard a manhas to work he can chew tobacco all the time; the crowd, because thespectacle of fire, water, and steam was fine, and they didn't have todo anything but sit around and look on. The sun got lower and lower as, one by one, the spectators departed to do their chores, and prepare forthe evening meeting. Yates at the invitation of the whittler went homewith him, and thoroughly relished his evening meal. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Margaret had never met any man but her father who was so fond of booksas Professor Renmark. The young fellows of her acquaintance readscarcely anything but the weekly papers; they went with some carethrough the yellow almanac that was given away free, with the grocer'sname printed on the back. The marvelous cures the almanac recorded wereof little interest, and were chiefly read by the older folk, but theyoung men reveled in the jokes to be found at the bottom of every page, their only drawback being that one could never tell the stories at aparing-bee or other social gathering, because everyone in the companyhad read them. A few of the young men came sheepishly round to get abook out of the library, but it was evident that their interest was notso much in the volume as in the librarian, and when that fact becameapparent to the girl, she resented it. Margaret was thought to be coldand proud by the youth of the neighborhood, or "stuck-up, " as theyexpressed it. 

To such a girl a man like Renmark was a revelation. He could talk ofother things than the weather, live stock, and the prospects for thecrops. The conversation at first did not include Margaret, but shelistened to every word of it with interest. Her father and mother wereanxious to hear about their boy; and from that engrossing subject thetalk soon drifted to university life, and the differences between cityand country. At last the farmer, with a sigh, arose to go. There islittle time for pleasant talk on a farm while daylight lasts. Margaret, remembering her duties as librarian, began to take in the books fromthe wagon to the front room. Renmark, slow in most things, was quickenough to offer his assistance on this occasion; but he reddenedsomewhat as he did so, for he was unused to being a squire of dames. 

"I wish you would let me do the porterage, " he said. "I would like toearn the right to look at these books sometimes, even though I may nothave the privilege of borrowing, not being a taxable resident of thetownship. "

"The librarian, " answered Margaret, with a smile, "seems to be atliberty to use her own discretion in the matter of lending. No one hasauthority to look over her accounts, or to censure her if she lendsrecklessly. So, if you wish to borrow books, all you have to do is toask for them. "

"You may be sure I shall avail myself of the permission. But myconscience will be easier if I am allowed to carry them in. "

"You will be permitted to help. I like carrying them. There is no moredelicious armful than books. "

As Renmark looked at the lovely girl, her face radiant with enthusiasm, the disconcerting thought came suddenly that perhaps her statementmight not be accurate. No such thought had ever suggested itself to himbefore, and it now filled him with guilty confusion. He met the clear, honest gaze of her eyes for a moment, then he stammered lamely:

"I--I too am very fond of books. "

Together they carried in the several hundred volumes, and then began toarrange them. 

"Have you no catalogue?" he asked. 

"No. We never seem to need one. People come and look over the library, and take out whatever book they fancy. "

"Yes, but still every library ought to be catalogued. Cataloguing is anart in itself. I have paid a good deal of attention to it, and willshow you how it is done, if you care to know. "

"Oh, I wish you would. "

"How do you keep a record of the volumes that are out?"

"I just write the name of the person, the title, and the date in thisblank book. When the volume is returned, I score out the record. "

"I see, " said Renmark dubiously. 

"That isn't right, is it? Is there a better way?"

"Well, for a small library, that ought to do; but if you were handlingmany books, I think confusion might result. "

"Do tell me the right way. I should like to know, even if it is a smalllibrary. "

"There are several methods, but I am by no means sure your way is notthe simplest, and therefore the best in this instance. "

"I'm not going to be put off like that, " said Margaret, laughing. "Acollection of books is a collection of books, whether large or small, and deserves respect and the best of treatment. Now, what method isused in large libraries?"

"Well, I should suggest a system of cards, though slips of paper woulddo. When any person wants to take out a book, let him make out a card, giving the date and the name or number of the book; he then must signthe card, and there you are. He cannot deny having had the book, foryou have his own signature to prove it. The slips are arranged in a boxaccording to dates, and when a book is returned, you tear up therecording paper. "

"I think that is a very good way, and I will adopt it. "

"Then let me send to Toronto and get you a few hundred cards. We'llhave them here in a day or two. "

"Oh, I don't want to put you to that trouble. "

"It is no trouble at all. Now, that is settled, let us attack thecatalogue. Have you a blank book anywhere about? We will first make analphabetical list; then we will arrange them under the heads ofhistory, biography, fiction, and so on. "

Simple as it appeared, the making of a catalogue took a long time. Bothwere absorbed in their occupation. Cataloguing in itself is a straightand narrow path, but in this instance there were so many delightfulside excursions that rapid progress could not be expected. To a readerthe mere mention of a book brings up recollections. Margaret wasreading out the names; Renmark, on slips of paper, each with a letteron it, was writing them down. 

"Oh, have you that book?" he would say, looking up as a title wasmentioned. "Have you ever read it?"

"No; for, you see, this part of the library is all new to me. Why, hereis one of which the leaves are not even cut. No one has read it. Is itgood?"

"One of the best, " Renmark would say, taking the volume. "Yes, I knowthis edition. Let me read you one passage. "

And Margaret would sit in the rocking while he cut the leaves and foundthe place. One extract was sure to suggest another, and time passedbefore the title of the book found its way to the proper slip of paper. These excursions into literature were most interesting to bothexcursionists, but they interfered with cataloguing. Renmark read andread, ever and anon stopping to explain some point, or quote whatsomeone else had said on the same subject, marking the place in thebook, as he paused, with inserted fore finger. Margaret swayed back andforth in the comfortable rocking chair, and listened intently, herlarge dark eyes fixed upon him so earnestly that now and then, when hemet them, he seemed disconcerted for a moment. But the girl did notnotice this. At the end of one of his dissertations she leaned herelbow on the arm of the chair, with her cheek resting against her hand, and said:

"How very clear you make everything, Mr. Renmark. "

"Do you think so?" he said with a smile. "It's my business, you know. "

"I think it's a shame that girls are not allowed to go to theuniversity; don't you?"

"Really, I never gave any thought to the subject, and I am not quiteprepared to say. "

"Well, I think it most unfair. The university is supported by theGovernment, is it not? Then why should half of the population be shutout from its advantages?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't do, you know. "

"Why?"

"There are many reasons, " he replied evasively. 

"What are they? Do you think girls could not learn, or are not ascapable of hard study as well as----"

"It isn't that, " he interrupted; "there are plenty of girls' schools inthe country, you know. Some very good ones in Toronto itself, for thatmatter. "

"Yes; but why shouldn't I go to the university with my brother? Thereare plenty of boys' schools, too, but the university is the university. I suppose my father helps to support it. Why, then, should one child beallowed to attend and the other not? It isn't at all just. "

"It wouldn't do, " said the professor more firmly, the more he thoughtabout it. 

"Would you take that as a satisfying reason from one or your students?"

"What?"

"The phrase, 'It wouldn't do. '"

Renmark laughed. 

"I'm afraid not, " he said; "but, then, I'm very exacting in class. Now, if you want to know, why do you not ask your father?"

"Father and I have discussed the question, often, and he quite agreeswith me in thinking it unfair. "

"Oh, does he?" said Renmark, taken aback; although, when he reflected, he realized that the father doubtless knew as little about the dangersof the city as the daughter did. 

"And what does your mother say?"

"Oh, mother thinks if a girl is a good housekeeper it is all that isrequired. So you will have to give me a good reason, if there is one, for nobody else in this house argues on your side of the question. "

"Well, " said Renmark in an embarrassed manner, "if you don't know bythe time you are twenty-five, I'll promise to discuss the whole subjectwith you. "

Margaret sighed as she leaned back in her chair. 

"Twenty-five?" she cried, adding with the unconscious veracity ofyouth: "That will be seven years to wait. Thank you, but I think I'llfind out before that time. "

"I think you will, " Renmark answered. 

They were interrupted by the sudden and unannounced entrance of herbrother. 

"Hello, you two!" he shouted with the rude familiarity of a boy. "Itseems the library takes a longer time to arrange than usual. "

Margaret rose with dignity. 

"We are cataloguing, " she said severely. 

"Oh, that's what you call it, is it? Can I be of any assistance, or istwo company when they're cataloguing? Have you any idea what time itis?"

"I'm afraid I must be off, " said the professor, rising. "My companionin camp won't know what has become of me. "

"Oh, he's all right!" said Henry. "He's down at the Corners, and isgoing to stay there for the meeting to-night. Young Bartlett passed awhile ago; he was getting the horses shod, and your friend went withhim. I guess Yates can take care of himself, Mr. Renmark. Say, sis, will you go to the meeting? I'm going. Young Bartlett's going, and sois Kitty. Won't you come, too, Mr. Renmark? It's great fun. "

"Don't talk like that about a religious gathering, Henry, " said hissister, frowning. 

"Well, that's what it is, anyhow. "

"Is it a prayer meeting?" asked the professor, looking at the girl. 

"You bet it is!" cried Henry enthusiastically, giving no one a chanceto speak but himself. "It's a prayer meeting, and every other kind ofmeeting all rolled into one. It's a revival meeting; a protractedmeeting, that's what it is. You had better come with us, Mr. Renmark, and then you can see what it is like. You can walk home with Yates. "

This attractive _denouement_ did not seem to appeal so strongly tothe professor as the boy expected, for he made no answer. 

"You will come, sis; won't you?" urged the boy. 

"Are you sure Kitty is going?"

"Of course she is. You don't think she'd miss it, do you? They'll soonbe here, too; better go and get ready. "

"I'll see what mother says, " replied Margaret as she left the room. Sheshortly returned, dressed ready for the meeting, and the professorconcluded he would go also. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Anyone passing the Corners that evening would have quickly seen thatsomething important was on. Vehicles of all kinds lined the roadway, drawn in toward the fence, to the rails of which the horses were tied. Some had evidently come from afar, for the fame of the revivalist waswidespread. The women, when they arrived, entered the schoolhouse, which was brilliantly lighted with oil lamps. The men stood aroundoutside in groups, while many sat in rows on the fences, all conversingabout every conceivable topic except religion. They apparently acted onthe theory that there would be enough religion to satisfy the mostexacting when they went inside. Yates sat on the top rail of the fencewith the whittler, whose guest he had been. It was getting too dark forsatisfactory whittling, so the man with the jack-knife improved thetime by cutting notches in the rail on which he sat. Even when thisfailed, there was always a satisfaction in opening and shutting a knifethat had a powerful spring at the back of it, added to which was thepleasurable danger of cutting his fingers. They were discussing theFenian question, which at that time was occupying the minds ofCanadians to some extent. Yates was telling them what he knew of thebrotherhood in New York, and the strength of it, which his auditorsseemed inclined to underestimate. Nobody believed that the Fenianswould be so foolhardy as to attempt an invasion of Canada; but Yatesheld that if they did they would give the Canadians more trouble thanwas expected. 

"Oh, we'll turn old Bartlett on them, if they come over here. They'llbe glad enough to get back if he tackles them. "

"With his tongue, " added another. 

"By the way, " said the whittler, "did young Bartlett say he was comingto-night? I hope he'll bring his sister if he does. Didn't any of youfellows ask him to bring her? He'd never think of it if he wasn't told. He has no consideration for the rest of us. "

"Why didn't you ask him? I hear you have taken to going in thatdirection yourself. "

"Who? Me?" asked the whittler, quite unconcerned. "I have no chance inthat quarter, especially when the old man's around. "

There was a sound of singing from the schoolhouse. The double doorswere wide open, and as the light streamed out the people began tostream in. 

"Where's Macdonald?" asked Yates. 

"Oh, I guess he's taken to the woods. He washes his face, and then hehides. He has the sense to wash his face first, for he knows he willhave to come. You'll see him back before they start the second hymn. "

"Well, boys!" said one, getting down from the fence and stretching hisarms above his head with a yawn, "I guess, if we're going in, it'sabout time. "

One after another they got down from the fence, the whittler shuttinghis knife with a reluctant snap, and putting it in his pocket withevident regret. The schoolhouse, large as it was, was filled to itsutmost capacity--women on one side of the room, and men on the other;although near the door there was no such division, all the occupants ofthe back benches being men and boys. The congregation was standing, singing a hymn, when Yates and his comrades entered, so their quietincoming was not noticed. The teacher's desk had been moved from theplatform on which it usually stood, and now occupied a corner on themen's side of the house. It was used as a seat by two or three, whowished to be near the front, and at the same time keep an eye on therest of the assemblage. The local preacher stood on the edge of theplatform, beating time gently with his hymn book, but not singing, ashe had neither voice nor ear for music, and happily recognized thefact. The singing was led by a man in the middle of the room. 

At the back of the platform, near the wall, were two chairs, on one ofwhich sat the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who was to conduct the revival. Hewas a stout, powerful-looking man, but Yates could not see his face, for it was buried in his hands, his head being bowed in silent prayer. It was generally understood that he had spent a youth of fearfulwickedness, and he always referred to himself as a brand snatched fromthe burning. It was even hinted that at one time he had been a cardplayer, but no one knew this for a fact. Many of the local preachershad not the power of exhortation, therefore a man like the Rev. Mr. Benderson, who had that gift abnormally developed, was too valuable tobe localized; so he spent the year going from place to place, sweeping, driving, coaxing, or frightening into the fold those stray sheep thathovered on the outskirts; once they were within the religious ring-fence the local minister was supposed to keep them there. The latter, who had given out the hymn, was a man of very different caliber. He wastall, pale, and thin, and his long black coat hung on him as if it wereon a post. When the hymn was finished; and everyone sat down, Yates, and those with him, found seats as best they could at the end near thedoor. This was the portion of the hall where the scoffers assembled, but it was also the portion which yielded most fruit, if the revivalhappened to be a successful one. Yates, seeing the place so full, andnoticing two empty benches up at the front, asked the whittler why theywere not occupied. 

"They'll be occupied pretty soon. "

"Who are they being kept for?"

"Perhaps you, perhaps me, perhaps both of us. You never can tell. That's the penitents' bench. "

The local preacher knelt on the platform, and offered up a prayer. Heasked the Lord to bless the efforts of the brother who was with themthere that night, and to crown his labors with success; through hisinstrumentality to call many wandering sinners home. There were criesof "Amen" and "Bless the Lord" from different parts of the hall as theprayer was being made. On rising, another hymn was given out:

 "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her King. "

The leader of the singing started it too low. The tune began high, andran down to the bottom of the scale by the time it reached the end ofthe first line. When the congregation had got two-thirds of the waydown, they found they could go no farther, not even those who sangbass. The leader, in some confusion, had to pitch the tune higher, andhis miscalculation was looked upon as exceedingly funny by the recklessspirits at the back of the hall. The door opened quietly; and they allturned expecting to see Macdonald, but it was only Sandy. He had washedhis face with but indifferent success, and the bulge in his cheek, likea wen, showed that he had not abandoned tobacco on entering theschoolhouse. He tiptoed to a place beside his friends. 

"The old man's outside, " he whispered to the youth who sat nearest him, holding his hand to the side of his mouth so that the sound would nottravel. Catching sight of Yates, he winked at him in a friendly sort ofway. 

The hymn gathered volume and spirit as it went on, gradually recoveringfrom the misadventure at starting. When it was finished, the preachersat down beside the revivalist. His part of the work was done, as therewas no formal introduction of speaker to audience to be gone through. The other remained as he was with bowed head, for what appeared to be along time. 

A deep silence fell on all present. Even the whisperings among thescoffers ceased. 

At last Mr. Benderson slowly raised his head, arose, and came to thefront of the platform. He had a strong, masterful, clean-shaven face, with the heavy jaw of a stubborn man--a man not easily beaten. "Openthe door, " he said in a quiet voice. 

In the last few meetings he had held he had found this an effectivebeginning. It was new to his present audience. Usually a knot of peoplestood outside, and if they were there, he made an appeal to them, through the open door, to enter. If no one was there, he had a lessonto impart, based on the silence and the darkness. In this instance itwas hard to say which was the more surprised, the revivalist or thecongregation. Sandy, being on his feet, stepped to the door, and threwit open. He was so astonished at what he saw that he slid behind theopen door out of sight. Macdonald stood there, against the darknessbeyond, in a crouching attitude, as if about to spring. He hadevidently been trying to see what was going on through the keyhole;and, being taken unawares by the sudden opening of the door, had nothad time to recover himself. No retreat was now possible. He stood upwith haggard face, like a man who has been on a spree, and, without aword, walked in. Those on the bench in front of Yates moved togethera little closer, and the blacksmith sat down on the vacant space leftat the outside. In his confusion he drew his hand across his brow, andsnapped his fingers loudly in the silence. A few faces at the back worea grin, and would have laughed had not Sandy, closing the door quietly, given them one menacing look which quelled their merriment. He was notgoing to have the "old man" made fun of in his extremity; and they allhad respect enough for Sandy's fist not to run the risk of encounteringit after the meeting was over. Macdonald himself was more to be dreadedin a fight; but the chances were that for the next two or three weeks, if the revival were a success, there would be no danger from thatquarter. Sandy, however, was permanently among the unconverted, andtherefore to be feared, as being always ready to stand up for hisemployer, either with voice or blow. The unexpected incident Mr. Benderson had witnessed suggested no remarks at the time, so, being awise man, he said nothing. The congregation wondered how he had knownMacdonald was at the door, and none more than Macdonald himself. Itseemed to many that the revivalist had a gift of divination denied tothemselves, and this belief left them in a frame of mind more than everready to profit by the discourse they were about to hear. 

Mr. Benderson began in a low monotone, that nevertheless penetrated toevery part of the room. He had a voice of peculiar quality, as sweet asthe tones of a tenor, and as pleasant to hear as music; now and thenthere was a manly ring in it which thrilled his listeners. "A week agoto-night, " he said, "at this very hour, I stood by the deathbed of onewho is now among the blessed. It is four years since he foundsalvation, by the mercy of God, through the humble instrumentality ofthe least of his servants. It was my blessed privilege to see thatyoung man--that boy almost--pledge his soul to Jesus. He was less thantwenty when he gave himself to Christ, and his hopes of a long lifewere as strong as the hopes of the youngest here to-night. Yet he wasstruck down in the early flush of manhood--struck down almost withoutwarning. When I heard of his brief illness, although knowing nothing ofits seriousness, something urged me to go to him, and at once. When Ireached the house, they told me that he had asked to see me, and thatthey had just sent a messenger to the telegraph office with a dispatchfor me. I said: 'God telegraphed to me. ' They took me to the bedside ofmy young friend, whom I had last seen as hearty and strong as anyonehere. "

Mr. Benderson then, in a voice quivering with emotion, told the storyof the deathbed scene. His language was simple and touching, and it wasevident to the most callous auditor that he spoke from the heart, describing in pathetic words the scene he had witnessed. His unadornedeloquence went straight home to every listener, and many an eye dimmedas he put before them a graphic picture of the serenity attending theend of a well-spent life. 

"As I came through among you to-night, " he continued, "as you stoodtogether in groups outside this building, I caught a chance expressionthat one of you uttered. A man was speaking of some neighbor who, atthis busy season of the year, had been unable to get help. I think theone to whom this man was speaking had asked if the busy man were here, and the answer was: 'No; he has not a minute to call his own. ' Thephrase has haunted me since I heard it, less than an hour ago. 'Not aminute to call his own!' I thought of it as I sat before you. I thoughtof it as I rose to address you. I think of it now. Who has a minute tocall his own?" The soft tones of the preacher's voice had given placeto a ringing cry that echoed from the roof down on their heads. "Haveyou? Have I? Has any king, any prince, any president, any ruler overmen, a minute or a moment he can call his own? Not one. Not one of allthe teeming millions on this earth. The minutes that are past areyours. What use have you made of them? All your efforts, all yourprayers, will not change the deeds done in any one of those minutesthat are past, and those only are yours. The chiseled stone is not morefixed than are the deeds of the minutes that are past. Their record isfor you or against you. But where now are those minutes of the future--those minutes that, from this time onward, you will be able to callyour own when they are spent? They are in the hand of God--in his handto give or to withhold. And who can count them in the hand of God? Notyou, not I, not the wisest man upon the earth. Man may number the milesfrom here to the farthest visible star; but he cannot tell you, --_you_; I don't mean your neighbor, I mean _you_, --he cannottell YOU whether your minutes are to be one or a thousand. They aredoled out to you, and you are responsible for them. But there will comea moment, --it may be to-night, it may be a year hence, --when the handof God will close, and you will have had your sum. Then time will endfor you, and eternity begin. Are you prepared for that awful moment--that moment when the last is given you, and the next withheld? What ifit came now? Are you prepared for it? Are you ready to welcome it, asdid our brother who died at this hour one short week ago? His was notthe only deathbed I have attended. Some scenes have been so seared intomy brain that I can never forget them. A year ago I was called to thebedside of a dying man, old in years and old in sin. Often had he beencalled, but he put Christ away from him, saying: 'At a more convenientseason. ' He knew the path, but he walked not therein. And when at lastGod's patience ended, and this man was stricken down, he, foolish tothe last, called for me, the servant, instead of to God, the Master. When I reached his side, the stamp of death was on his face. The bitingfinger of agony had drawn lines upon his haggard brow. A great fear wasupon him, and he gripped my hand with the cold grasp of death itself. In that darkened room it seemed to me I saw the angel of peace standingby the bed, but it stood aloof, as one often offended. It seemed to meat the head of the bed the demon of eternal darkness bent over, whispering to him: 'It is too late! it is too late!' The dying manlooked at me--oh, such a look! May you never be called upon to witnessits like. He gasped: 'I have lived--I have lived a sinful life. Is ittoo late?' 'No, ' I said, trembling. 'Say you believe. ' His lips moved, but no sound came. He died as he had lived. The one necessary minutewas withheld. Do you hear? _It--was--withheld!_ He had not theminute to call his own. Not that minute in which to turn fromeverlasting damnation. He--went--down--into--_hell_, dying as hehad lived. "

The preacher's voice rose until it sounded like a trumpet blast. Hiseyes shone, and his face flushed with the fervor of his theme. Thenfollowed, as rapidly as words could utter, a lurid, awful picture ofhell and the day of judgment. Sobs and groans were heard in every partof the room. "Come--now--_now_!" he cried, "Now is the appointedtime, now is the day of salvation. Come now; and as you rise pray Godthat in his mercy he may spare you strength and life to reach thepenitent bench. "

Suddenly the preacher ceased talking. Stretching out his hands, hebroke forth, with his splendid tenor voice, into the rousing hymn, withits spirited marching time:

[Musical score: Come ye sinners, poor and needy, Weak and wounded, sick and sore; Jesus ready stands to save you. Full of pity, love, and power. ]

The whole congregation joined him. Everyone knew the words and thetune. It seemed a relief to the pent-up feelings to sing at the top ofthe voice. The chorus rose like a triumphal march:

[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, Sound the praise of His dear name; Glory, honour, and salvation, Christ the Lord has come to reign. ]

As the congregation sang the preacher in stentorian tones urged sinnersto seek the Lord while he was yet to be found. 

Yates felt the electric thrill in the air, and he tugged at his collar, as if he were choking. He could not understand the strange exaltationthat had come over him. It seemed as if he must cry aloud. All thosearound him were much moved. There were now no scoffers at the back ofthe room. Most of them seemed frightened, and sat looking one at theother. It only needed a beginning, and the penitent bench would becrowded. Many eyes were turned on Macdonald. His face was livid, andgreat beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His strong hand clutchedthe back of the seat before him, and the muscles stood out on theportion of his arm that was bare. He stared like a hypnotized man atthe preacher. His teeth were set, and he breathed hard, as would a manengaged in a struggle. At last the hand of the preacher seemed to bepointed directly at him. He rose tremblingly to his feet and staggereddown the aisle, flinging himself on his knees, with his head on hisarms, beside the penitent bench, groaning aloud. 

"Bless the Lord!" cried the preacher. 

It was the starting of the avalanche. Up the aisle, with pale faces, many with tears streaming from their eyes, walked the young men and theold. Mothers, with joy in their hearts and a prayer on their lips, sawtheir sons fall prostrate before the penitent bench. Soon the contritehad to kneel wherever they could. The ringing salvation march filledthe air, mingled with cries of joy and devout ejaculations. 

"God!" cried Yates, tearing off his collar, "what is the matter withme? I never felt like this before. I must get into the open air. "

He made for the door, and escaped unnoticed in the excitement of themoment. He stood for a time by the fence outside, breathing deeply ofthe cool, sweet air. The sound of the hymn came faintly to him. Heclutched the fence, fearing he was about to faint. Partially recoveringhimself at last, he ran with all his might up the road, while thererang in his ears the marching words:

[Musical score: Turn to the Lord, and seek salvation, Sound the praise of His dear Name. Glory, honour and salvation, Christ the Lord has come to reign. ]

CHAPTER XIV. 

When people are thrown together, especially when they are young, themutual relationship existing between them rarely remains stationary. Itdrifts toward like or dislike; and cases have been known where itprogressed into love or hatred. 

Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became at least very firm friends. Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. These two had agood foundation on which to build up an acquaintance in the fact thatMargaret's brother was a student in the university of which theprofessor was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference, which, if it leads not to heated argument, but is soberly discussed, lends itself even more to the building of friendship than subjects ofagreement. Margaret held, as has been indicated in a previous chapter, that the university was wrong in closing its doors to women. Renmark, up to the time of their first conversation on the subject, had giventhe matter but little thought; yet he developed an opinion contrary tothat of Margaret, and was too honest a man, or too little of adiplomatist, to conceal it. On one occasion Yates had been present, andhe threw himself, with the energy that distinguished him, into thewoman side of the question--cordially agreeing with Margaret, citinginstances, and holding those who were against the admission of women upto ridicule, taunting them with fear of feminine competition. Margaretbecame silent as the champion of her cause waxed the more eloquent; butwhether she liked Richard Yates the better for his championship whothat is not versed in the ways of women can say? As the hope of winningher regard was the sole basis of Yates' uncompromising views on thesubject, it is likely that he was successful, for his experiences withthe sex were large and varied. Margaret was certainly attracted towardRenmark, whose deep scholarship even his excessive self-depreciationcould not entirely conceal; and he, in turn, had naturally aschoolmaster's enthusiasm over a pupil who so earnestly desiredadvancement in knowledge. Had he described his feelings to Yates, whowas an expert in many matters, he would perhaps have learned that hewas in love; but Renmark was a reticent man, not much given either tointrospection or to being lavish with his confidences. As to Margaret, who can plummet the depth of a young girl's regard until she herselfgives some indication? All that one is able to record is that she waskinder to Yates than she had been at the beginning. 

Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had asincere liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fellinto the error of thinking Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, whereasshe was merely a girl who had an inexhaustible fund of high spirits, and one who took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even Yates made a slight mistake regarding her on one occasion, whenthey were having an evening walk together, with that freedom fromchaperonage which is the birthright of every American girl, whether shebelongs to a farmhouse or to the palace of a millionaire. 

In describing the incident afterward to Renmark, (for Yates had nothingof his comrade's reserve in these matters) he said:

"She left a diagram of her four fingers on my cheek that felt like oneof those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before now felt the tap ofa lady's fan in admonition, but never in my life have I met a gentlereproof that felt so much like a censure from the paw of our friend TomSayers. "

Renmark said with some severity that he hoped Yates would not forgetthat he was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. 

"Oh, _that's_ all right, " said Yates. "If you have any sparesympathy to bestow, keep it for me. My neighbors are amply able, andmore than willing, to take care of themselves. "

And now as to Richard Yates himself. One would imagine that here, atleast, a conscientious relater of events would have an easy task. Alas!such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all odds themost complex and bewildering of the four. He was deeply and truly inlove with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare asa young man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make herbelieve. Cases have been known where a chance meeting with one girl, andnot with another, has settled who was to be a young man's companionduring a long life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there iswisdom, and made no secret of his perplexity to his friend. Hecomplained sometimes that he got little help toward the solution of theproblem, but generally he was quite content to sit under the trees withRenmark and weigh the different advantages of each of the girls. Hesometimes appealed to his friend, as a man with a mathematical turn ofmind, possessing an education that extended far into conic sections andalgebraic formulae, to balance up the lists, and give him a candid andstatistical opinion as to which of the two he should favor with seriousproposals. When these appeals for help were coldly received, he accusedhis friend of lack of sympathy with his dilemma, said that he was asoulless man, and that if he had a heart it had become incrusted withthe useless _debris_ of a higher education, and swore to confidein him no more. He would search for a friend, he said, who hadsomething human about him. The search for the sympathetic friend, however, seemed to be unsuccessful; for Yates always returned toRenmark, to have, as he remarked, ice water dashed upon his duplex-burning passion. 

It was a lovely afternoon in the latter part of May, 1866, and Yateswas swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under hishead, gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through thegreen branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend wasunromantically peeling potatoes near the door of the tent. 

"The human heart, Renny, " said the man in the hammock reflectively, "isa remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume, from yourlack of interest, that you haven't given the subject much study, except, perhaps, in a physiological way. At the present moment it is tome the only theme worthy of a man's entire attention. Perhaps that isthe result of spring, as the poet says; but, anyhow, it presents newaspects to me each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery:that the girl I am with last seems to me the most desirable. That iscontrary to the observation of philosophers of bygone days. Absencemakes the heart grow fonder, _they_ say. I don't find it so. Presence is what plays the very deuce with me. Now, how do you accountfor it, Stilly?"

The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attendedto the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky, andfixed them on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. 

"Mr. Renmark, " he drawled at last, "I am convinced that your treatmentof the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled theday before, and left to soak in cold water until to-morrow's dinner. Ofcourse I admire the industry that gets work well over before itsresults are called for. Nothing is more annoying than work leftuntouched until the last moment, and then hurriedly done. Still, virtuemay be carried to excess, and a man may be too previous. "

"Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. Youmay perhaps remember that for two days I have been doing your share aswell as my own. "

"Oh, I am not complaining about _that_, at all, " said the hammockmagnanimously. "You are acquiring practical knowledge, Renny, that willbe of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. Myonly desire is that your education should be as complete as possible, and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearning desire forscullery work. I should suggest that, instead of going to the troubleof entirely removing the covering of the potato in that laborious way, you should merely peel a belt around its greatest circumference. Then, rather than cook the potatoes in the slow and soggy manner that seemsto delight you, you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed inthe water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and theresulting potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being inthe condition of a wet sponge. "

"The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you arenot satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practicalobject lesson. "

The man in the hammock sighed reproachfully. 

"Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realizethe cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am shoulddemean himself by attending to the prosaic details of householdaffairs. I am doubly in love, and much more, therefore, as that oldbore Euclid used to say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for. "

"All right, then; don't criticise. "

"Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonableness in your curt suggestion. A man who is unable, or unwilling, to work in the vineyard should notfind fault with the pickers. And now, Renny, for the hundredth time ofasking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell me, like the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in myplace. To which of those two charming, but totally unlike, girls wouldyou give the preference?"

"Damn!" said the professor quietly. 

"Hello, Renny!" cried Yates, raising his head. "Have you cut yourfinger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife. "

But the professor had not cut his finger. His use of the word givenabove is not to be defended; still, as it was spoken by him, it seemedto lose all relationship with swearing. He said it quietly, mildly, and, in a certain sense, innocently. He was astonished at himself forusing it, but there had been moments during the past few days when theordinary expletives used in the learned volumes of higher mathematicsdid not fit the occasion. 

Before anything more could be said there was a shout from the roadwaynear them. 

"Is Richard Yates there?" hailed the voice. 

"Yes. Who wants him?" cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. 

"I do, " said a young fellow on horseback. He threw himself off a tiredhorse, tied the animal to a sapling, --which, judging by the horse'scondition, was an entirely unnecessary operation, --jumped over the railfence, and approached through the woods. The young men saw, comingtoward them, a tall lad in the uniform of the telegraph service. 

"I'm Yates. What is it?"

"Well, " said the lad, "I've had a hunt and a half for you. Here's atelegram. "

"How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address. "

"That's just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York apile of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woodswithout leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow. " The youngman looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People weregood or bad according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates took the yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, withoutopening it, repeated his question:

"But how on earth did you find me?"

"Well, it wasn't easy;" said the boy. "My horse is about done out. I'mfrom Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare noexpense; and we haven't. There are seven other fellows scouring thecountry on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some morehave gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no othermessenger has been here before me, has he?" asked the boy with a touchof anxiety in his voice. 

"No; you are the first. "

"I'm glad of that. I've been 'most all over Canada. I got on your trailabout two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said youwere up here. Is there any answer?"

Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read itwith a deepening frown. It was to this effect:

"Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; getthere as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. General O'Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you everyfacility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they willreport to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to holdthe telegraph wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need; and don't spare expense. "

When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line oflanguage that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admirationof the Buffalo telegraph boy. 

"Heavens and earth and the lower regions! I'm here on my vacation. I'mnot going to jump into work for all the papers in New York. Whycouldn't those fools of Fenians stay at home? The idiots don't knowwhen they're well off. The Fenians be hanged!"

"Guess that's what they will be, " said the telegraph boy. "Any answer, sir?"

"No. Tell 'em you couldn't find me. "

"Don't expect the boy to tell a lie, " said the professor, speaking forthe first time. 

"Oh, I don't mind a lie!" exclaimed the boy, "but not that one. No, sir. I've had too much trouble finding you. I'm not going to pretendI'm no good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I'll tellany other lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it will oblige you. "

Yates recognized in the boy the same emulous desire to outstrip hisfellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, andhe at once admitted the injustice of attempting to deprive him of thefruits of his enterprise. 

"No, " he said, "that won't do. No; you have found me, and you're ayoung fellow who will be president of the telegraph company some day, or perhaps hold the less important office of the United Statespresidency. Who knows? Have you a telegraph blank?"

"Of course, " said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathernwallet by his side. Yates took the paper, and flung himself down underthe tree. 

"Here's a pencil, " said the messenger. 

"A newspaper man is never without a pencil, thank you, " replied Yates, taking one out of his inside pocket. "Now, Renmark, I'm not going totell a lie on this occasion, " he continued. 

"I think the truth is better on all occasions. "

"Right you are. So here goes for the solid truth. "

Yates, as he lay on the ground, wrote rapidly on the telegraph blank. Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor: "Say, Renmark, are youa doctor?"

"Of laws, " replied his friend. 

"Oh, that will do just as well. " And he finished his writing. 

"How is this?" he cried, holding the paper at arm's length:

"L. F. SPENCER, "_Managing Editor 'Argus, ' New York:_

"I'm flat on my back. Haven't done a hand's turn for a week. Am underthe constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors inCanada, who even prepares my food for me. Since leaving New Yorktrouble of the heart has complicated matters, and at present bafflesthe doctor. Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move fromhere until present complications have yielded to treatment. 

"Simson would be a good man to take charge in my absence. "

"YATES. 

"There, " said Yates, with a tone of satisfaction, when he had finishedthe reading. "What do you think of that?"

The professor frowned, but did not answer. The boy, who partly sawthrough it, but not quite, grinned, and said: "Is it true?"

"Of course it's true!" cried Yates, indignant at the unjust suspicion. "It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask thedoctor, there, if it isn't true. Now, my boy, will you give this inwhen you get back to the office? Tell 'em to rush it through to NewYork. I would mark it 'rush' only that never does any good, and alwaysmakes the operator mad. "

The boy took the paper, and put it in his wallet. 

"It's to be paid for at the other end, " continued Yates. 

"Oh, that's all right, " answered the messenger with a certaincondescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the company. "Well, so long, " he added. "I hope you'll soon be better, Mr. Yates. "

Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh, and followed him to the fence. 

"Now, youngster, you are up to snuff, I can see that. They'll perhapsquestion you when you get back. What will you say?"

"Oh, I'll tell 'em what a hard job I had to find you, and let 'em knownobody else could 'a' done it, and I'll say you're a pretty sick man. Iwon't tell 'em you gave me a dollar!"

"Right you are, sonny; _you'll_ get along. Here's five dollars, all in one bill. If you meet any other of the messengers, take themback with you. There's no use of their wasting valuable time in thislittle neck of the woods. "

The boy stuffed the bill into his vest pocket as carelessly as if itrepresented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, andwaved his hand in farewell to the newspaper man. Yates turned andwalked slowly back to the tent. He threw himself once more into thehammock. As he expected, the professor was more taciturn than ever, and, although he had been prepared for silence, the silence irritatedhim. He felt ill used at having so unsympathetic a companion. 

"Look here, Renmark; why don't you say something?"

"There is nothing to say. "

"Oh, yes, there is. You don't approve of me, do you?"

"I don't suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not. "

"Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even thehumblest of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash toapprove of me? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you aremore uncomfortable than the most cast-iron conscience any man ever had. One's own conscience one can deal with, but a conscience in the personof another man is beyond one's control. Now, it is like this: I am herefor quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justifiedin----"

"Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I am tired of it. "

"And of me, too, I suppose?"

"Well, yes, rather--if you want to know. "

Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounterwith Bartlett on the road Renmark saw that he was thoroughly angry. Thereporter stood with clenched fists and flashing eyes, hesitating. Theother, his heavy brows drawn, while not in an aggressive attitude, wasplainly ready for an attack. Yates concluded to speak, and not tostrike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The reporter realized that he had forced the conversation, andremembered he had invited Renmark to accompany him. Although thisrecollection stayed his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. 

"I believe, " he said slowly, "that it would do you good for once tohear a straight, square, unbiased opinion of yourself. You haveassociated so long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it mayinterest you to know what a man of the world thinks of you. A few yearsof schoolmastering is enough to spoil an archangel. Now, I think, ofall the----"

The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence:

"Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives?"

The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over hisface, and his truculent manner changed with a suddenness that forced asmile even to the stern lips of Renmark. 

Yates backed toward the hammock like a man who had received anunexpected blow. 

"I say, Renny, " he wailed, "it's another of those cursed telegraphmessengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign it'Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates. ' That will give it a sort of official, medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boywas here. Tell him I'm lying down. " He flung himself into the hammock, and Renmark, after a moment's hesitation, walked toward the boy at thefence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short timehe returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in thehammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, andscattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professorstood there for a few moments in silence. 

"Perhaps, " he said at last, "you'll be good enough to go on with yourremarks. "

"I was merely going to say, " answered Yates wearily, "that you are amighty good fellow, Renny. People who camp out always have rows. Thatis our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is somethinglike married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on bothsides. That philosophy may be cheap, but I think it is accurate. I amreally very much worried about this newspaper business. I ought, ofcourse, to fling myself into the chasm like that Roman fellow; but, hang it! I've been flinging myself into chasms for fifteen years, andwhat good has it done? There's always a crisis in a daily newspaperoffice. I want them to understand in the _Argus_ office that I amon my vacation. "

"They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that you're onyour deathbed. "

Yates laughed. "That's so, " he said; "but, you see, Renny, we NewYorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration that if I did notput it strongly it wouldn't have any effect. You've got to give a bigdose to a man who has been taking poison all his life. They will takeoff ninety per cent. From any statement I make, anyhow; so, you see, Ihave to pile it up pretty high before the remaining ten per cent. Amounts to anything. "

The conversation was interrupted by the crackling of the dry twigsbehind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nervously on thefence, turned round. Young Bartlett pushed his way through theunderbrush. His face was red; he had evidently been running. 

"Two telegrams for you, Mr. Yates, " he panted. "The fellows thatbrought 'em said they were important; so I ran out with them myself, for fear they wouldn't find you. One of them's from Port Colborne, theother's from Buffalo. "

Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on thereceipt of one as an event in a man's life. He was astonished to seeYates receive the double event with a listlessness that he could nothelp thinking was merely assumed for effect. Yates held them in hishand, and did not tear them up at once out of consideration for thefeelings of the young man, who had had a race to deliver them. 

"Here's two books they wanted you to sign. They're tired out, andmother's giving them something to eat. "

"Professor, you sign for me, won't you?" said Yates. 

Bartlett lingered a moment, hoping that he would hear something of thecontents of the important messages; but Yates did not even open theenvelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bringingthem. 

"Stuck-up cuss!" muttered young Bartlett to himself, as he shoved thesigned books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrushagain. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and theircontents into little pieces, and scattered them as before. 

"Begins to look like autumn, " he said, "with the yellow leaves strewingthe ground. "

CHAPTER XV. 

Before night three more telegraph boys found Yates, and three moretelegrams in sections helped to carpet the floor of the forest. Theusually high spirits of the newspaper man went down and down under therepeated visitations. At last he did not even swear, which, in the caseof Yates, always indicated extreme depression. As night drew on hefeebly remarked to the professor that he was more tired than he hadever been in going through an election campaign. He went to his tentbunk early, in a state of such utter dejection that Renmark felt sorryfor him, and tried ineffectually to cheer him up. 

"If they would all come together, " said Yates bitterly, "so that onecomprehensive effort of malediction would include the lot and have itover, it wouldn't be so bad; but this constant dribbling in ofmessengers would wear out the patience of a saint. "

As he sat in his shirt sleeves on the edge of his bunk Renmark saidthat things would look brighter in the morning--which was a safe remarkto make, for the night was dark. 

Yates sat silently, with his head in his hands, for some moments. Atlast he said slowly: "There is no one so obtuse as the thoroughly goodman. It is not the messenger I am afraid of, after all. He is but theoutward symptom of the inward trouble. What you are seeing is anexample of the workings of conscience where you thought conscience wasabsent. The trouble with me is that I know the newspaper depends on me, and that it will be the first time I have failed. It is the newspaperman's instinct to be in the center of the fray. He yearns to scoop theopposition press. I will get a night's sleep if I can, and to-morrow, Iknow, I shall capitulate. I will hunt out General O'Neill, andinterview him on the field of slaughter. I will telegraph pages. I willrefurbish my military vocabulary, and speak of deploying and massingand throwing out advance guards, and that sort of thing. I will movedetachments and advance brigades, and invent strategy. We will havedesperate fighting in the columns of the _Argus_, whatever thereis on the fields of Canada. But to a man who has seen real war this_opera-bouffe_ masquerade of fighting----I don't want to sayanything harsh, but to me it is offensive. "

He looked up with a wan smile at his partner, sitting on the bottom ofan upturned pail, as he said this. Then he reached for his hip pocketand drew out a revolver, which he handed, butt-end forward, to theprofessor, who, not knowing his friend carried such an instrument, instinctively shrank from it. 

"Here, Renny, take this weapon of devastation and soak it with thepotatoes. If another messenger comes in on me to-night, I know I shallriddle him if I have this handy. My better judgment tells me he isinnocent, and I don't want to shed the only blood that will be spilledduring this awful campaign. "

How long they had been asleep they did not know, as the ghost-storieshave it, but both were suddenly awakened by a commotion outside. It wasintensely dark inside the tent, but as the two sat up they noticed afaint moving blur of light, which made itself just visible through thecanvas. 

"It's another of those fiendish messengers, " whispered Yates. "Gi' methat revolver. "

"Hush!" said the other below his breath. "There's about a dozen men outthere, judging by the footfalls. I heard them coming. "

"Let's fire into the tent and be done with it, " said a voice outside. 

"No, no, " cried another; "no man shoot. It makes too much noise, andthere must be others about. Have ye all got yer bayonets fixed?"

There was a murmur, apparently in the affirmative. 

"Very well, then. Murphy and O'Rourick, come round to this side. Youthree stay where you are. Tim, you go to that end; and, Doolin, comewith me. "

"The Fenian army, by all the gods!" whispered Yates, groping for hisclothes. "Renny, give me that revolver, and I'll show you more fun thana funeral. "

"No, no. They're at least three to our one. We're in a trap here, andhelpless. "

"Oh, just let me jump out among 'em and begin the fireworks. Those Ididn't shoot would die of fright. Imagine scouts scouring the woodswith a lantern--with a _lantern_, Renny! Think of that! Oh, thisis pie! Let me at 'em. "

"Hush! Keep quiet! They'll hear you. "

"Tim, bring the lantern round to this side. " The blur of light movedalong the canvas. "There's a man with his back against the wall of thetent. Just touch him up with your bayonet, Murphy, and let him knowwe're here. "

"There may be twenty in the tent, " said Murphy cautiously. 

"Do what I tell you, " answered the man in command. 

Murphy progged his bayonet through the canvas, and sunk the deadlypoint of the instrument into the bag of potatoes. 

"Faith, he sleeps sound, " said Murphy with a tremor of fear in hisvoice, as there was no demonstration on the part of the bag. 

The voice of Yates rang out from the interior of the tent:

"What the old Harry do you fellows think you're doing, anyhow? What'sthe matter with you? What do you want?"

There was a moment's silence, broken only by a nervous scuffling offeet and the clicking of gun-locks. 

"How many are there of you in there?" said the stern voice of thechief. 

"Two, if you want to know, both unarmed, and one ready to fight the lotof you if you are anxious for a scrimmage. "

"Come out one by one, " was the next command. 

"We'll come out one by one, " said Yates, emerging in his shirt sleeves, "but you can't expect us to keep it up long, as there are only two ofus. "

The professor next appeared, with his coat on. The situation certainlydid not look inviting. The lantern on the ground threw up a pallid glowon the severe face of the commander, as the footlights might illuminatethe figure of a brigand in a wood on the stage. The face of the officershowed that he was greatly impressed with the importance and danger ofhis position. Yates glanced about him with a smile, all his recentdejection gone now that he was in the midst of a row. 

"Which is Murphy, " he said, "and which is Doolin? Hello, alderman!" hecried, as his eyes rested on one tall, strapping, red-haired man whoheld his bayonet ready to charge, with a fierce determination in hisface that might have made an opponent quail. "When did you leave NewYork? and who's running the city now that you're gone?"

The men had evidently a sense of humor, in spite of their bloodthirstybusiness, for a smile flickered on their faces in the lantern light, and several bayonets were unconsciously lowered. But the hard face ofthe commander did not relax. 

"You are doing yourself no good by your talk, " he said solemnly. "Whatyou say will be used against you. "

"Yes, and what you do will be used against _you_; and don't forgetthat fact. It's you who are in danger--not I. You are, at this moment, making about the biggest ass of yourself there is in Canada. "

"Pinion these men!" cried the captain gruffly. 

"Pinion nothing!" shouted Yates, shaking off the grasp of a man who hadsprung to his side. But both Yates and Renmark were speedilyoverpowered; and then an unseen difficulty presented itself. Murphypathetically remarked that they had no rope. The captain was a man ofresource. 

"Cut enough rope from the tent to tie them. "

"And when you're at it, Murphy, " said Yates, "cut off enough more tohang yourself with. You'll need it before long. And remember that anydamage you do to that tent you'll have to pay for. It's hired. "

Yates gave them all the trouble he could while they tied his elbows andwrists together, offering sardonic suggestions and cursing theirclumsiness. Renmark submitted quietly. When the operation was finished, the professor said with the calm confidence of one who has an empirebehind him and knows it:

"I warn you, sir, that this outrage is committed on British soil; andthat I, on whom it is committed, am a British subject. "

"Heavens and earth, Renmark, if you find it impossible to keep yourmouth shut, do not use the word 'subject' but 'citizen. '"

"I am satisfied with the word, and with the protection given to thosewho use it. "

"Look here, Renmark; you had better let me do the talking. You willonly put your foot in it. I know the kind of men I have to deal with;you evidently don't. "

In tying the professor they came upon the pistol in his coat pocket. Murphy held it up to the light. 

"I thought you said you were unarmed?" remarked the captain severely, taking the revolver in his hand. 

"I was unarmed. The revolver is mine, but the professor would not letme use it. If he had, all of you would be running for dear life throughthe woods. "

"You admit that you are a British subject?" said the captain toRenmark, ignoring Yates. 

"He doesn't admit it, he brags of it, " said the latter before Renmarkcould speak. "You can't scare him; so quit this fooling, and let usknow how long we are to stand here trussed up like this. "

"I propose, captain, " said the red-headed man, "that we shoot these menwhere they stand, and report to the general. They are spies. They arearmed, and they denied it. It's according to the rules of war, captain. "

"Rules of war? What do you know of the rules of war, you red-headedSenegambian? Rules of Hoyle! Your line is digging sewers, I imagine. Come, captain, undo these ropes, and make up your mind quickly. Trot usalong to General O'Neill just as fast as you can. The sooner you get usthere the more time you will have for being sorry over what you havedone. "

The captain still hesitated, and looked from one to the other of hismen, as if to make up his mind whether they would obey him if he wentto extremities. Yates' quick eye noted that the two prisoners hadnothing to hope for, even from the men who smiled. The shooting of twounarmed and bound men seemed to them about the correct way of beginninga great struggle for freedom. 

"Well, " said the captain at length, "we must do it in proper form, so Isuppose we should have a court-martial. Are you agreed?"

They were unanimously agreed. 

"Look here, " cried Yates, and there was a certain impressiveness in hisvoice in spite of his former levity; "this farce has gone just as faras it is going. Go inside the tent, there, and in my coat pocket youwill find a telegram, the first of a dozen or two received by me withinthe last twenty-four hours. Then you will see whom you propose toshoot. "

The telegram was found, and the captain read it, while Tim held thelantern. He looked from under his knitted brows at the newspaper man. 

"Then you are one of the _Argus_ staff. "

"I am chief of the _Argus_ staff. As you see, five of my men willbe with General O'Neill to-morrow. The first question they will ask himwill be: 'Where is Yates?' The next thing that will happen will be thatyou will be hanged for your stupidity, not by Canada nor by the Stateof New York, but by your general, who will curse your memory everafter. You are fooling not with a subject this time, but with acitizen; and your general is not such an idiot as to monkey with theUnited States Government; and, what is a blamed sight worse, with thegreat American press. Come, captain, we've had enough of this. Cutthese cords just as quickly as you can, and take us to the general. Wewere going to see him in the morning, anyhow. "

"But this man says he is a Canadian. "

"That's all right. My friend is _me_. If you touch him, you touchme. Now, hurry up, climb down from your perch. I shall have enoughtrouble now, getting the general to forgive all the blunders you havemade to-night, without your adding insult to injury. Tell your men tountie us, and throw the ropes back into the tent. It will soon bedaylight. Hustle, and let us be off. "

"Untie them, " said the captain, with a sigh. 

Yates shook himself when his arms regained their freedom. 

"Now, Tim, " he said, "run into that tent and bring out my coat. It'schilly here. "

Tim did instantly as requested, and helped Yates on with the coat. 

"Good boy!" said, Yates. "You've evidently been porter in a hotel. "

Tim grinned. 

"I think, " said Yates meditatively, "that if I you look under theright-hand bunk, Tim, you will find a jug. It belongs to the professor, although he has hidden it under my bed to divert suspicion fromhimself. Just fish it out and bring it here. It is not as full as itwas, but there's enough to go round, if the professor does not takemore than his share. "

The gallant troop smacked their lips in anticipation, and Renmarklooked astonished to see the jar brought forth. "You first, professor, "said Yates; and Tim innocently offered him the vessel. The learned manshook his head. Yates laughed, and took it himself. 

"Well, here's to you, boys, " he said. "And may you all get back assafely to New York as I will. " The jar passed down along the line, until Tim finished its contents. 

"Now, then, for the camp of the Fenian army, " cried Yates, takingRenmark's arm; and they began their march through the woods. "GreatCaesar! Stilly, " he continued to his friend, "this is rest and quietwith a vengeance, isn't it?"

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Fenians, feeling that they had to put their best foot foremost inthe presence of their prisoners, tried at first to maintain somethinglike military order in marching through the woods. They soon found, however, that this was a difficult thing to do. Canadian forests arenot as trimly kept as English parks. Tim walked on ahead with thelantern, but three times he tumbled over some obstruction, anddisappeared suddenly from view, uttering maledictions. His final effortin this line was a triumph. He fell over the lantern and smashed it. When all attempts at reconstruction failed, the party tramped on in go-as-you-please fashion, and found they did better without the light thanwith it. In fact, although it was not yet four o'clock, daybreak wasalready filtering through the trees, and the woods were perceptiblylighter. 

"We must be getting near the camp, " said the captain. 

"Will I shout, sir?" asked Murphy. 

"No, no; we can't miss it. Keep on as you are doing. "

They were nearer the camp than they suspected. As they blundered onamong the crackling underbrush and dry twigs the sharp report of arifle echoed through the forest, and a bullet whistled above theirheads. 

"Fat the divil are you foiring at, Mike Lynch?" cried the alderman, whorecognized the shooter, now rapidly falling back. 

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said the sentry, stopping in his flight. Thecaptain strode angrily toward him. 

"What do you mean by firing like that? Don't you know enough to ask forthe counter-sign before shooting?"

"Sure, I forgot about it, captain, entirely. But, then, ye see, I nevercan hit anything; so it's little difference it makes. "

The shot had roused the camp, and there was now wild commotion, everybody thinking the Canadians were upon them. 

A strange sight met the eye of Yates and Renmark. Both were astonishedto see the number of men that O'Neill had under his command. They founda motley crowd. Some tattered United States uniforms were among them, but the greater number were dressed as ordinary individuals, although afew had trimmings of green braid on their clothes. Sleeping out for acouple of nights had given the gathering the unkempt appearance of agreat company of tramps. The officers were indistinguishable from themen at first, but afterward Yates noticed that they, mostly in plainclothes and slouch hats, had sword belts buckled around them; and oneor two had swords that had evidently seen service in the United Statescavalry. 

"It's all right, boys, " cried the captain to the excited mob. "It wasonly that fool Lynch who fired at us. There's nobody hurt. Where's thegeneral?"

"Here he comes, " said half a dozen voices at once, and the crowd madeway for him. 

General O'Neill was dressed in ordinary citizen's costume, and did notwear even a sword belt. On his head of light hair was a black soft felthat. His face was pale, and covered with freckles. He looked more likea clerk from a grocery store than the commander of an army. He wasevidently somewhere between thirty-five and forty years of age. 

"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Why are you back? Any news?"

The captain saluted, military fashion, and replied:

"We took two prisoners, sir. They were encamped in a tent in the woods. One of them says he is an American citizen, and says he knows you, so Ibrought them in. "

"I wish you had brought in the tent, too, " said the general with a wansmile. "It would be an improvement on sleeping in the open air. Arethese the prisoners? I don't know either of them. "

"The captain makes a mistake in saying that I claimed a personalacquaintance with you, general. What I said was that you wouldrecognize, somewhat quicker than he did, who I was, and thedesirability of treating me with reasonable decency. Just show thegeneral that telegram you took from my coat pocket, captain. "

The paper was produced, and O'Neill read it over once or twice. 

"You are on the New York _Argus_, then?"

"Very much so, general. "

"I hope you have not been roughly used?"

"Oh, no; merely tied up in a hard knot, and threatened with shooting--that's all. "

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Still, you must make some allowance at atime like this. If you will come with me, I will write you a pass whichwill prevent any similar mistake happening in the future. " The generalled the way to a smoldering camp fire, where, out of a valise, he tookwriting materials and, using the valise as a desk, began to write. After he had written "Headquarters of the Grand Army of the IrishRepublic" he looked up, and asked Yates his Christian name. Beinganswered, he inquired the name of his friend. 

"I want nothing from you, " interposed Renmark. "Don't put my name onthe paper. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Yates. "Never mind him, general. He's alearned man who doesn't know when to talk and when not to. As you marchup to our tent, general, you will see an empty jug, which will explaineverything. Renmark's drunk, not to put too fine a point upon it; andhe imagines himself a British subject. "

The Fenian general looked up at the professor. 

"Are you a Canadian?" he asked. 

"Certainly I am. "

"Well, in that case, if I let you leave camp, you must give me yourword that, should you fall in with the enemy, you will give noinformation to them of our position, numbers, or of anything else youmay have seen while with us. "

"I shall not give my word. On the contrary, if I should fall in withthe Canadian troops, I will tell them where you are, that you are fromeight hundred to one thousand strong, and the worst looking set ofvagabonds I have ever seen out of jail. "

General O'Neill frowned, and looked from one to the other. 

"Do you realize that you confess to being a spy, and that it becomes myduty to have you taken out and shot?"

"In real war, yes. But this is mere idiotic fooling. All of you thatdon't escape will be either in jail or shot before twenty-four hours. "

"Well, by the gods, it won't help _you_ any. I'll have you shotinside of ten minutes, instead of twenty-four hours. "

"Hold on, general, hold on!" cried Yates, as the angry man rose andconfronted the two. "I admit that he richly deserves shooting, if youwere the fool killer, which you are not. But it won't do, I will beresponsible for him. Just finish that pass for me, and I will take careof the professor. Shoot me if you like, but don't touch him. He hasn'tany sense, as you can see; but I am not to blame for that, nor are you. If you take to shooting everybody who is an ass, general, you won'thave any ammunition left with which to conquer Canada. "

The general smiled in spite of himself, and resumed the writing of thepass. "There, " he said, handing the paper to Yates. "You see, we alwayslike to oblige the press. I will risk your belligerent friend, and Ihope you will exercise more control over him, if you meet theCanadians, than you were able to exert here. Don't you think, on thewhole, you had better stay with us? We are going to march in a coupleof hours, when the men have had a little rest. " He added in a lowervoice, so that the professor could not hear: "You didn't see anythingof the Canadians, I suppose?"

"Not a sign. No, I don't think I'll stay. There will be five of ourfellows here some time to-day, I expect, and that will be more thanenough. I'm really here on a vacation. Been ordered rest and quiet. I'mbeginning to think I have made a mistake in location. "

Yates bade good-by to the commander, and walked with his friend out ofthe camp. They threaded their way among sleeping men and groups ofstacked guns. On the top of one of the bayonets was hung a tall silkhat, which looked most incongruous in such a place. 

"I think, " said Yates, "that we will make for the Ridge Road, whichmust lie somewhere in this direction. It will be easier walking thanthrough the woods; and, besides, I want to stop at one of thefarmhouses and get some breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear aftertramping so long. "

"Very well, " answered the professor shortly. 

The two stumbled along until they reached the edge of the wood; then, crossing some open fields, they came presently upon the road, near thespot where the fist fight had taken place between Yates and Bartlett. The comrades, now with greater comfort, walked silently along the roadtoward the west, with the reddening east behind them. The whole scenewas strangely quiet and peaceful, and the recollection of the weirdcamp they had left in the woods seemed merely a bad dream. The morningair was sweet, and the birds were beginning to sing. Yates had intendedto give the professor a piece of his mind regarding the lack of tactand common sense displayed by Renmark in the camp, but, somehow, thescarcely awakened day did not lend itself to controversy, and theserene stillness soothed his spirit. He began to whistle softly thatpopular war song, "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, " andthen broke in with the question:

"Say, Renny, did you notice that plug hat on the bayonet?"

"Yes, " answered the professor; "and I saw five others scattered aroundthe camp. "

"Jingo! you were observant. I can imagine nothing quite so ridiculousas a man going to war in a tall silk hat. "

The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to "Rallyround the flag. "

"I presume, " he said at length, "there is little use in attempting toimprove the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a foolyou made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to beslightly off the center. "

"I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds. "

"They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also bewell-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves. "

"While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came inwith several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, and another party started out to get some more. "

"Oh, that isn't stealing, Renmark; that's requisitioning. You mustn'tuse such reckless language. I imagine the second party has beensuccessful; for here are three of them all mounted. "

The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of thetwo men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them heldrevolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no visiblerevolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward thepedestrians, the other two taking positions on each side of the wagonway. 

"Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?" criedthe foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance. 

"It's all right, commodore, " said Yates jauntily, "and the top of themorning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from thecamp, and we are going to get something to eat. "

"I must have a more satisfactory answer than that. "

"Well, here you have it, then, " answered Yates, pulling out his foldedpass, and handing it up to the horseman. The man read it carefully. "You find that all right, I expect?"

"Right enough to cause your immediate arrest. "

"But the general said we were not to be molested further. That is inhis own handwriting. "

"I presume it is, and all the worse for you. His handwriting does notrun quite as far as the queen's writ in this country yet. I arrest youin the name of the queen. Cover these men with your revolvers, andshoot them down if they make any resistance. " So saying, the riderslipped from his horse, whipped out of his pocket a pair of handcuffsjoined by a short, stout steel chain, and, leaving his horse standing, grasped Renmark's wrist. 

"I'm a Canadian, " said the professor, wrenching his wrist away. "Youmustn't put handcuffs on me. "

"You are in very bad company, then. I am a constable of this county; ifyou are what you say, you will not resist arrest. "

"I will go with you, but you mustn't handcuff me. "

"Oh, mustn't I?" And, with a quick movement indicative of long practicewith resisting criminals, the constable deftly slipped on one of theclasps, which closed with a sharp click and stuck like a burr. 

Renmark became deadly pale, and there was a dangerous glitter in hiseyes. He drew back his clinched fist, in spite of the fact that thecocked revolver was edging closer and closer to him, and the constableheld his struggling manacled hand with grim determination. 

"Hold on!" cried Yates, preventing the professor from striking therepresentative of the law. "Don't shoot, " he shouted to the man onhorseback; "it is all a little mistake that will be quickly put right. You are three armed and mounted men, and we are only two, unarmed andon foot. There is no need of any revolver practice. Now, Renmark, youare more of a rebel at the present moment than O'Neill. He owes noallegiance, and you do. Have you no respect for the forms of law andorder? You are an anarchist at heart, for all your professions. You_would_ sing 'God save the Queen!' in the wrong place a while ago, so now be satisfied that you have got her, or, rather, that she has gotyou. Now, constable, do you want to hitch the other end of thatarrangement on my wrist? or have you another pair for my own specialuse?

"I'll take your wrist, if you please. "

"All right; here you are. " Yates drew back his coat sleeve, andpresented his wrist. The dangling cuff was speedily clamped upon it. The constable mounted the patient horse that stood waiting for him, watching him all the while with intelligent eye. The two prisoners, handcuffed together, took the middle of the road, with a horseman oneach side of them, the constable bringing up the rear; thus theymarched on, the professor gloomy from the indignity put upon them, andthe newspaper man as joyous as the now thoroughly awakened birds. Thescouts concluded to go no farther toward the enemy, but to return tothe Canadian forces with their prisoners. They marched down the road, all silent except Yates, who enlivened the morning air with the singingof "John Brown. "

"Keep quiet, " said the constable curtly. 

"All right, I will. But look here; we shall pass shortly the house of afriend. We want to go and get something to eat. "

"You will get nothing to eat until I deliver you up to the officers ofthe volunteers. "

"And where, may I ask, are they?"

"You may ask, but I will not answer. "

"Now, Renmark, " said Yates to his companion, "the tough part of thisepisode is that we shall have to pass Bartlett's house, and feastmerely on the remembrance of the good things which Mrs. Bartlett isalways glad to bestow on the wayfarer. I call that refined cruelty. "

As they neared the Bartlett homestead they caught sight of Miss Kittyon the veranda, shading her eyes from the rising sun, and gazingearnestly at the approaching squad. As soon as she recognized the groupshe disappeared, with a cry, into the house. Presently there came outMrs. Bartlett, followed by her son, and more slowly by the old manhimself. 

They all came down to the gate and waited. 

"Hello, Mrs. Bartlett!" cried Yates cheerily. "You see, the professorhas got his desserts at last; and I, being in bad company, share hisfate, like the good dog Tray. "

"What's all this about?" cried Mrs. Bartlett. 

The constable, who knew both the farmer and his wife, nodded familiarlyto them. "They're Fenian prisoners, " he said. 

"Nonsense!" cried Mrs. Bartlett--the old man, as usual, keeping hismouth grimly shut when his wife was present to do the talking--"they'renot Fenians. They've been camping on our farm for a week or more. "

"That may be, " said the constable firmly, "but I have the best ofevidence against them; and, if I'm not very much mistaken, they'll hangfor it. "

Miss Kitty, who had been partly visible through the door, gave a cry ofanguish at this remark, and disappeared again. 

"We have just escaped being hanged by the Fenians themselves, Mrs. Bartlett, and I hope the same fate awaits us at the hands of theCanadians. "

"What! hanging?"

"No, no; just escaping. Not that I object to being hanged, --I hope I amnot so pernickety as all that, --but, Mrs. Bartlett, you will sympathizewith me when I tell you that the torture I am suffering from at thismoment is the remembrance of the good things to eat which I have had inyour house. I am simply starved to death, Mrs. Bartlett, and this hard-hearted constable refuses to allow me to ask you for anything. "

Mrs. Bartlett came out through the gate to the road in a visible stateof indignation. 

"Stoliker, " she exclaimed, "I'm ashamed of you! You may hang a man ifyou like, but you have no right to starve him. Come straight in withme, " she said to the prisoners. 

"Madam, " said Stoliker severely, "you must not interfere with thecourse of the law. "

"The course of stuff and nonsense!" cried the angry woman. "Do youthink I am afraid of you, Sam Stoliker? Haven't I chased you out ofthis very orchard when you were a boy trying to steal my apples? Yes, and boxed your ears, too, when I caught you, and then was fool enoughto fill your pockets with the best apples on the place, after givingyou what you deserved. Course of the law, indeed! I'll box your earsnow if you say anything more. Get down off your horse, and havesomething to eat yourself. I dare say you need it. "

"This is what I call a rescue, " whispered Yates to his linkedcompanion. 

What is a stern upholder of the law to do when the interferer withjustice is a determined and angry woman accustomed to having her ownway? Stoliker looked helplessly at Hiram, as the supposed head of thehouse, but the old man merely shrugged his shoulders, as much as tosay: "You see how it is yourself. I am helpless. "

Mrs. Bartlett marched her prisoners through the gate and up to thehouse. 

"All I ask of you now, " said Yates, "is that you will give Renmark andme seats together at the table. We cannot bear to be separated, evenfor an instant. "

Having delivered her prisoners to the custody of her daughter, at thesame time admonishing her to get breakfast as quickly as possible, Mrs. Bartlett went to the gate again. The constable was still on his horse. Hiram had asked, by way of treating him to a noncontroversial subject, if this was the colt he had bought from old Brown, on the secondconcession, and Stoliker had replied that it was. Hiram was saying hethought he recognized the horse by his sire when Mrs. Bartlett broke inupon them. 

"Come, Sam, " she said, "no sulking, you know. Slip off the horse andcome in. How's your mother?"

"She's pretty well, thank you, " said Sam sheepishly, coming down on hisfeet again. 

Kitty Bartlett, her gayety gone and her eyes red, waited on theprisoners, but absolutely refused to serve Sam Stoliker, on whom shelooked with the utmost contempt, not taking into account the fact thatthe poor young man had been merely doing his duty, and doing it well. 

"Take off these handcuffs, Sam, " said Mrs. Bartlett, "until they havebreakfast, at least. "

Stoliker produced a key and unlocked the manacles, slipping them intohis pocket. 

"Ah, now!" said Yates, looking at his red wrist, "we can breatheeasier; and I, for one, can eat more. "

The professor said nothing. The iron had not only encircled his wrist, but had entered his soul as well. Although Yates tried to make theearly meal as cheerful as possible, it was rather a gloomy festival. Stoliker began to feel, poor man, that the paths of duty wereunpopular. Old Hiram could always be depended upon to add sombernessand taciturnity to a wedding feast; the professor, never the liveliestof companions, sat silent, with clouded brow, and vexed even thecheerful Mrs. Bartlett by having evidently no appetite. When thehurried meal was over, Yates, noticing that Miss Kitty had left theroom, sprang up and walked toward the kitchen door. Stoliker was on hisfeet in an instant, and made as though to follow him. 

"Sit down, " said the professor sharply, speaking for the first time. "He is not going to escape. Don't be afraid. He has done nothing, andhas no fear of punishment. It is always the innocent that you stupidofficials arrest. The woods all around you are full of real Fenians, but you take excellent care to keep out of their way, and give yourattention to molesting perfectly inoffensive people. "

"Good for you, professor!" cried Mrs. Bartlett emphatically. "That'sthe truth, if ever it was spoken. But are there Fenians in the woods?"

"Hundreds of them. They came on us in the tent about three o'clock thismorning, --or at least an advance guard did, --and after talking ofshooting us where we stood they marched us to the Fenian camp instead. Yates got a pass, written by the Fenian general, so that we should notbe troubled again. That is the precious document which this man thinksis deadly evidence. He never asked us a question, but clapped thehandcuffs on our wrists, while the other fools held pistols to ourheads. "

"It isn't my place to ask questions, " retorted Stoliker doggedly. "Youcan tell all this to the colonel or the sheriff; if they let you go, I'll say nothing against it. "

Meanwhile, Yates had made his way into the kitchen, taking theprecaution to shut the door after him. Kitty Bartlett looked quicklyround as the door closed. Before she could speak the young man caughther by the plump shoulders--a thing which he certainly had no right todo. 

"Miss Kitty Bartlett, " he said, "you've been crying. "

"I haven't; and if I had, it is nothing to you. "

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Don't deny it. For whom were youcrying? The professor?"

"No, nor for you either, although I suppose you have conceit enough tothink so. "

"_Me_ conceited? Anything but that. Come, now, Kitty, for whomwere you crying? I must know. "

"Please let me go, Mr. Yates, " said Kitty, with an effort at dignity. 

"Dick is my name, Kit. "

"Well, mine is not Kit. 

"You're quite right. Now that you mention it, I will call you Kitty, which is much prettier than the abbreviation. "

"I did not 'mention it. ' Please let me go. Nobody has the right to callme anything but Miss Bartlett; that is, _you_ haven't, anyhow. "

"Well, Kitty, don't you think it is about time to give somebody theright? Why won't you look up at me, so that I can tell for sure whetherI should have accused you of crying? Look up--Miss Bartlett. "

"Please let me go, Mr. Yates. Mother will be here in a minute. "

"Mother is a wise and thoughtful woman. We'll risk mother. Besides, I'mnot in the least afraid of her, and I don't believe you are. I thinkshe is at this moment giving poor Mr. Stoliker a piece of her mind;otherwise, I imagine, he would have followed me. I saw it in his eye. "

"I hate that man, " said Kitty inconsequently. 

"I like him, because he brought me here, even if I was handcuffed. Kitty, why don't you look up at me? Are you afraid?"

"What should I be afraid of?" asked Kitty, giving him one swift glancefrom her pretty blue eyes. "Not of you, I hope. "

"Well, Kitty, I sincerely hope not. Now, Miss Bartlett, do you know whyI came out here?"

"For something more to eat, very likely, " said the girl mischievously. 

"Oh, I say, that to a man in captivity is both cruel and unkind. Besides, I had a first-rate breakfast, thank you. No such motive drewme into the kitchen. But I will tell you. You shall have it from my ownlips. _That_ was the reason!"

He suited the action to the word, and kissed her before she knew whatwas about to happen. At least, Yates, with all his experience, thoughthe had taken her unawares. Men often make mistakes in little matters ofthis kind. Kitty pushed him with apparent indignation from her, but shedid not strike him across the face, as she had done before, when hemerely attempted what he had now accomplished. Perhaps this was becauseshe had been taken so completely by surprise. 

"I shall call my mother, " she threatened. 

"Oh, no, you won't. Besides, she wouldn't come. " Then this frivolousyoung man began to sing in a low voice the flippant refrain, "Here's tothe girl that gets a kiss, and runs and tells her mother, " ending withthe wish that she should live and die an old maid and never getanother. Kitty should not have smiled, but she did; she should haverebuked his levity, but she didn't. 

"It is about the great and disastrous consequences of living and dyingan old maid that I want to speak to you. I have a plan for theprevention of such a catastrophe, and I would like to get your approvalof it. "

Yates had released the girl, partly because she had wrenched herselfaway from him, and partly because he heard a movement in the diningroom, and expected the entrance of Stoliker or some of the others. MissKitty stood with her back to the table, her eyes fixed on a springflower, which she had unconsciously taken from a vase standing on thewindow-ledge. She smoothed the petals this way and that, and seemed sointerested in botanical investigation that Yates wondered whether shewas paying attention to what he was saying or not. What his plan mighthave been can only be guessed; for the Fates ordained that they shouldbe interrupted at this critical moment by the one person on earth whocould make Yates' tongue falter. 

The outer door to the kitchen burst open, and Margaret Howard stood onthe threshold, her lovely face aflame with indignation, and her darkhair down over her shoulders, forming a picture of beauty that fairlytook Yates' breath away. She did not notice him. 

"O Kitty, " she cried, "those wretches have stolen all our horses! Isyour father here?"

"What wretches?" asked Kitty, ignoring the question, and startled bythe sudden advent of her friend. 

"The Fenians. They have taken all the horses that were in the fields, and your horses as well. So I ran over to tell you. "

"Have they taken your own horse, too?"

"No. I always keep Gypsy in the stable. The thieves did not come nearthe house. Oh, Mr. Yates! I did not see you. " And Margaret's hand, withthe unconscious vanity of a woman, sought her disheveled hair, whichYates thought too becoming ever to be put in order again. 

Margaret reddened as she realized, from Kitty's evident embarrassment, that she had impulsively broken in upon a conference of two. 

"I must tell your father about it, " she said hurriedly, and beforeYates could open the door she had done so for herself. Again she wastaken aback to see so many sitting round the table. 

There was a moment's silence between the two in the kitchen, but thespell was broken. 

"I--I don't suppose there will be any trouble about getting back thehorses, " said Yates hesitatingly. "If you lose them, the Governmentwill have to pay. "

"I presume so, " answered Kitty coldly; then: "Excuse me, Mr. Yates; Imustn't stay here any longer. " So saying, she followed Margaret intothe other room. 

Yates drew a long breath of relief. All his old difficulties ofpreference had arisen when the outer door burst open. He felt that hehad had a narrow escape, and began to wonder if he had really committedhimself. Then the fear swept over him that Margaret might have noticedher friend's evident confusion, and surmised its cause. He wonderedwhether this would help him or hurt him with Margaret, if he finallymade up his mind to favor her with his serious attentions. Still, hereflected that, after all, they were both country girls, and would nodoubt be only too eager to accept a chance to live in New York. Thushis mind gradually resumed its normal state of self-confidence; and heargued that, whatever Margaret's suspicions were, they could not butmake him more precious in her eyes. He knew of instances where the verydanger of losing a man had turned a woman's wavering mind entirely inthe man's favor. When he had reached this point, the door from thedining room opened, and Stoliker appeared. 

"We are waiting for you, " said the constable. 

"All right. I am ready. "

As he entered the room he saw the two girls standing together talkingearnestly. 

"I wish I was a constable for twenty-four hours, " cried Mrs. Bartlett. "I would be hunting horse thieves instead of handcuffing innocent men. "

"Come along, " said the impassive Stoliker, taking the handcuffs fromhis pocket. 

"If you three men, " continued Mrs. Bartlett, "cannot take those two tocamp, or to jail, or anywhere else, without handcuffing them, I'll goalong with you myself and protect you, and see that they don't escape. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam Stoliker, if you have anymanhood about you--which I doubt. "

"I must do my duty. "

The professor rose from his chair. "Mr. Stoliker, " he said withdetermination, "my friend and myself will go with you quietly. We willmake no attempt to escape, as we have done nothing to make us fearinvestigation. But I give you fair warning that if you attempt to put ahandcuff on my wrist again I will smash you. "

A cry of terror from one of the girls, at the prospect of a fight, caused the professor to realize where he was. He turned to them andsaid in a contrite voice:

"Oh! I forgot you were here. I sincerely beg your pardon. "

Margaret, with blazing eyes, cried:

"Don't beg my pardon, but--smash him. "

Then a consciousness of what she had said overcame her, and the excitedgirl hid her blushing face on her friend's shoulder, while Kittylovingly stroked her dark, tangled hair. 

Renmark took a step toward them, and stopped. Yates, with his usualquickness, came to the rescue, and his cheery voice relieved thetension of the situation. 

"Come, come, Stoliker, don't be an idiot. I do not object in the leastto the handcuffs; and, if you are dying to handcuff somebody, handcuffme. It hasn't struck your luminous mind that you have not the firsttittle of evidence against my friend, and that, even if I were thegreatest criminal in America, the fact of his being with me is nocrime. The truth is, Stoliker, that I wouldn't be in your shoes for agood many dollars. You talk a great deal about doing your duty, but youhave exceeded it in the case of the professor. I hope you have noproperty; for the professor can, if he likes, make you pay sweetly forputting the handcuffs on him without a warrant, or even without one jotof evidence. What is the penalty for false arrest, Hiram?" continuedYates, suddenly appealing to the old man. "I think it is a thousanddollars. "

Hiram said gloomily that he didn't know. Stoliker was hit on a tenderspot, for he owned a farm. 

"Better apologize to the professor and let us get along. Good-by, all. Mrs. Bartlett, that breakfast was the very best I ever tasted. "

The good woman smiled and shook hands with him. 

"Good-by, Mr. Yates; and I hope you will soon come back to haveanother. "

Stoliker slipped the handcuffs into his pocket again, and mounted hishorse. The girls, from the veranda, watched the procession move up thedusty road. They were silent, and had even forgotten the exciting eventof the stealing of the horses. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

When the two prisoners, with their three captors, came in sight of theCanadian volunteers, they beheld a scene which was much more militarythan the Fenian camp. They were promptly halted and questioned by apicket before coming to the main body; the sentry knew enough not toshoot until he had asked for the countersign. Passing the picket, theycame in full view of the Canadian force, the men of which looked veryspick and span in uniforms which seemed painfully new in the clearlight of the fair June morning. The guns, topped by a bristle ofbayonets which glittered as the rising sun shone on them, were stackedwith neat precision here and there. The men were preparing theirbreakfast, and a temporary halt had been called for that purpose. Thevolunteers were scattered by the side of the road and in the fields. Renmark recognized the colors of the regiment from his own city, andnoticed that there was with it a company that was strange to him. Although led to them a prisoner, he felt a glowing pride in theregiment and their trim appearance--a pride that was both national andcivic. He instinctively held himself more erect as he approached. 

"Renmark, " said Yates, looking at him with a smile, "you are making athoroughly British mistake. "

"What do you mean? I haven't spoken. "

"No, but I see it in your eye. You are underestimating the enemy. Youthink this pretty company is going to walk over that body of unkempttramps we saw in the woods this morning. "

"I do indeed, if the tramps wait to be walked over--which I very muchdoubt. "

"That's just where you make a mistake. Most of these are raw boys, whoknow all that can be learned of war on a cricket field. They will bethe worst whipped set of young fellows before night that this part ofthe country has ever seen. Wait till they see one of their comradesfall, with the blood gushing out of a wound in his breast. If theydon't turn and run, then I'm a Dutchman. I've seen raw recruits before. They should have a company of older men here who have seen service tosteady them. The fellows we saw this morning were sleeping like logs, in the damp woods, as we stepped over them. They are veterans. Whatwill be but a mere skirmish to them will seem to these boys the mostawful tragedy that ever happened. Why, many of them look as if theymight be university lads. "

"They are, " said Renmark, with a pang of anguish. 

"Well, I can't see what your stupid government means by sending themhere alone. They should have at least one company of regulars withthem. "

"Probably the regulars are on the way. "

"Perhaps; but they will have to put in an appearance mighty sudden, orthe fight will be over. If these boys are not in a hurry with theirmeal, the Fenians will be upon them before they know it. If there is tobe a fight, it will be before a very few hours--before one hour passes, you are going to see a miniature Bull Run. "

Some of the volunteers crowded around the incomers, eagerly inquiringfor news of the enemy. The Fenians had taken the precaution to cut allthe telegraph wires leading out of Fort Erie, and hence those incommand of the companies did not even know that the enemy had left thatlocality. They were now on their way to a point where they were to meetColonel Peacocke's force of regulars--a point which they were destinednever to reach. Stoliker sought an officer and delivered up hisprisoners, together with the incriminating paper that Yates had handedto him. The officer's decision was short and sharp, as militarydecisions are generally supposed to be. He ordered the constable totake both the prisoners and put them in jail at Port Colborne. Therewas no time now for an inquiry into the case, --that could comeafterward, --and, so long as the men were safe in jail, everything wouldbe all right. To this the constable mildly interposed two objections. In the first place, he said, he was with the volunteers not in hiscapacity as constable, but in the position of guide and man who knewthe country. In the second place, there was no jail at Port Colborne. 

"Where is the nearest jail?"

"The jail of the county is at Welland, the county town, " replied theconstable. 

"Very well; take them there. "

"But I am here as guide, " repeated Stoliker. 

The officer hesitated for a moment. "You haven't handcuffs with you, I presume?"

"Yes, I have, " said Stoliker, producing the implements. 

"Well, then, handcuff them together, and I will send one of the companyover to Welland with them. How far is it across country?"

Stoliker told him. 

The officer called one of the volunteers, and said to him:

"You are to make your way across country to Welland, and deliver thesemen up to the jailer there. They will be handcuffed together, but youtake a revolver with you, and if they give you any trouble, shootthem. "

The volunteer reddened, and drew himself up. "I am not a policeman, " hesaid. "I am a soldier. "

"Very well, then your first duty as a soldier is to obey orders. Iorder you to take these men to Welland. "

The volunteers had crowded around as this discussion went on, and amurmur rose among them at the order of the officer. They evidentlysympathized with their comrade's objection to the duties of apoliceman. One of them made his way through the crowd, and cried:

"Hello! this is the professor. This is Mr. Renmark. He's no Fenian. "Two or three more of the university students recognized Renmark, and, pushing up to him, greeted him warmly. He was evidently a favorite withhis class. Among others young Howard pressed forward. 

"It is nonsense, " he cried, "talking about sending Professor Renmark tojail! He is no more a Fenian than Governor-General Monck. We'll all gobail for the professor. "

The officer wavered. "If you know him, " he said, "that is a differentmatter. But this other man has a letter from the commander of theFenians, recommending him to the consideration of all friends of theFenian cause. I can't let him go free. "

"Are you the chief in command here?" asked Renmark. 

"No, I am not. "

"Mr. Yates is a friend of mine who is here with me on his vacation. Heis a New York journalist, and has nothing in common with the invaders. If you insist on sending him to Welland, I must demand that we be takenbefore the officer in command. In any case, he and I stand or falltogether. I am exactly as guilty or innocent as he is. "

"We can't bother the colonel about every triviality. "

"A man's liberty is no triviality. What, in the name of common sense, are you fighting for but liberty?"

"Thanks, Renmark, thanks, " said Yates; "but I don't care to see thecolonel, and I shall welcome Welland jail. I am tired of all thisbother. I came here for rest and quiet, and I am going to have them, ifI have to go to jail for them. I'm coming reluctantly to the beliefthat jail's the most comfortable place in Canada, anyhow. "

"But this is an outrage, " cried the professor indignantly. 

"Of course it is, " replied Yates wearily; "but the woods are full ofthem. There's always outrages going on, especially in so-called freecountries; therefore one more or less won't make much difference. Come, officer, who's going to take me to Welland? or shall I have to go bymyself? I'm a Fenian from 'way back, and came here especially tooverturn the throne and take it home with me. For Heaven's sake, knowyour own mind one way or other, and let us end this conference. "

The officer was wroth. He speedily gave the order to Stoliker tohandcuff the prisoner to himself, and deliver him to the jailer atWelland. 

"But I want assistance, " objected Stoliker. "The prisoner is a biggerman than I am. " The volunteers laughed as Stoliker mentioned this self-evident fact. 

"If anyone likes to go with you, he can go. I shall give no orders. "

No one volunteered to accompany the constable. 

"Take this revolver with you, " continued the officer, "and if heattempts to escape, shoot him. Besides, you know the way to Welland, soI can't send anybody in your place, even if I wanted to. "

"Howard knows the way, " persisted Stoliker. That young man spoke upwith great indignation: "Yes, but Howard isn't constable, and Stolikeris. I'm not going. "

Renmark went up to his friend. 

"Who's acting foolishly now, Yates?" he said. "Why don't you insist onseeing the colonel? The chances are ten to one that you would beallowed off. "

"Don't make any mistake. The colonel will very likely be some fussyindividual who magnifies his own importance, and who will send a squadof volunteers to escort me, and I want to avoid that. These officersalways stick by each other; they're bound to. I want to go alone withStoliker. I have a score to settle with him. "

"Now, don't do anything rash. You've done nothing so far; but if youassault an officer of the law, that will be a different matter. "

"Satan reproving sin. Who prevented you from hitting Stoliker a shorttime since?"

"Well, I was wrong then. You are wrong now. "

"See here, Renny, " whispered Yates; "you get back to the tent, and seethat everything's all right. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Don'tlook so frightened. I won't hurt Stoliker. But I want to see this fight, and I won't get there if the colonel sends an escort. I'm going to useStoliker as a shield when the bullets begin flying. "

The bugles sounded for the troops to fall in, and Stoliker veryreluctantly attached one clasp of the handcuff around his own leftwrist, while he snapped the other on the right wrist of Yates, whoembarrassed him with kindly assistance. The two manacled mendisappeared down the road, while the volunteers rapidly fell in tocontinue their morning's march. 

Young Howard beckoned to the professor from his place in the ranks. "Isay, professor, how did you happen to be down this way?"

"I have been camping out here for a week or more with Yates, who is anold schoolfellow of mine. "

"What a shame to have him led off in that way! But he seemed to ratherlike the idea. Jolly fellow, I should say. How I wish I had known youwere in this neighborhood. My folks live near here. They would onlyhave been too glad to be of assistance to you. "

"They have been of assistance to me, and exceedingly kind as well. "

"What? You know them? All of them? Have you met Margaret?"

"Yes, " said the professor slowly, but his glance fell as it encounteredthe eager eyes of the youth. It was evident that Margaret was thebrother's favorite. 

"Fall back, there!" cried the officer to Renmark. 

"May I march along with them? or can you give me a gun, and let me takepart?"

"No, " said the officer with some hauteur; "this is no place forcivilians. " Again the professor smiled as he reflected that the wholecompany, as far as martial experience went, were merely civiliansdressed in uniform; but he became grave again when he remembered Yates'ominous prediction regarding them. 

"I say, Mr. Renmark, " cried young Howard, as the company moved off, "ifyou see any of them, don't tell them I'm here--especially Margaret. Itmight make them uneasy. I'll get leave when this is over, and drop in onthem. "

The boy spoke with the hopeful confidence of youth, and had evidentlyno premonition of how his appointment would be kept. Renmark left theroad, and struck across country in the direction of the tent. 

Meanwhile, two men were tramping steadily along the dusty road towardWelland: the captor moody and silent, the prisoner talkative andentertaining--indeed, Yates' conversation often went beyondentertainment, and became, at times, instructive. He discussed theaffairs of both countries, showed a way out of all politicaldifficulties, gave reasons for the practical use of common sense inevery emergency, passed opinions on the methods of agriculture adoptedin various parts of the country, told stories of the war, gaveinstances of men in captivity murdering those who were in charge ofthem, deduced from these anecdotes the foolishness of resisting lawfulauthority lawfully exercised, and, in general, showed that he was a manwho respected power and the exercise thereof. Suddenly branching tomore practical matters, he exclaimed:

"Say, Stoliker, how many taverns are there between here and Welland?"

Stoliker had never counted them. 

"Well, that's encouraging, anyhow. If there are so many that itrequires an effort of the memory to enumerate them, we will likely havesomething to drink before long. "

"I never drink while on duty, " said Stoliker curtly. 

"Oh, well, don't apologize for it. Every man has his failings. I'll beonly too happy to give you some instructions. I have acquired theuseful practice of being able to drink both on and off duty. Anythingcan be done, Stoliker, if you give your mind to it. I don't believe inthe word 'can't, ' either with or without the mark of elision. "

Stoliker did not answer, and Yates yawned wearily. 

"I wish you would hire a rig, constable. I'm tired of walking. I'vebeen on my feet ever since three this morning. "

"I have no authority to hire a buggy. "

"But what do you do when a prisoner refuses to move?"

"I make him move, " said Stoliker shortly. 

"Ah, I see. That's a good plan, and saves bills at the livery stable. "

They came to a tempting bank by the roadside, when Yates cried:

"Let's sit down and have a rest. I'm done out. The sun is hot, and theroad dusty. You can let me have half an hour: the day's young, yet. "

"I'll let you have fifteen minutes. "

They sat down together. "I wish a team would come along, " said Yateswith a sigh. 

"No chance of a team, with most of the horses in the neighborhoodstolen, and the troops on the roads. "

"That's so, " assented Yates sleepily. 

He was evidently tired out, for his chin dropped on his breast, and hiseyes closed. His breathing came soft and regular, and his body leanedtoward the constable, who sat bolt upright. Yates' left arm fell acrossthe knees of Stoliker, and he leaned more and more heavily against him. The constable did not know whether he was shamming or not, but he tookno risks. He kept his grasp firm on the butt of the revolver. Yet, hereflected, Yates could surely not meditate an attempt on his weapon, for he had, a few minutes before, told him a story about a prisoner whoescaped in exactly that way. Stoliker was suspicious of the goodintentions of the man he had in charge; he was altogether too politeand good-natured; and, besides, the constable dumbly felt that theprisoner was a much cleverer man than he. 

"Here, sit up, " he said gruffly. "I'm not paid to carry you, you know. "

"What's that? What's that? What's that?" cried Yates rapidly, blinkinghis eyes and straightening up. "Oh, it's only you, Stoliker. I thoughtit was my friend Renmark. Have I been asleep?"

"Either that or pretending--I don't know which, and I don't care. "

"Oh! I must have been pretending, " answered Yates drowsily; "I can'thave dropped asleep. How long have we been here?"

"About five minutes. "

"All right. " And Yates' head began to droop again. 

This time the constable felt no doubt about it. No man could imitatesleep so well. Several times Yates nearly fell forward, and each timesaved himself, with the usual luck of a sleeper or a drunkard. Nevertheless, Stoliker never took his hand from his revolver. Suddenly, with a greater lurch than usual, Yates pitched head first down thebank, carrying the constable with him. The steel band of the handcuffnipped the wrist of Stoliker, who, with an oath and a cry of pain, instinctively grasped the links between with his right hand, to savehis wrist. Like a cat, Yates was upon him, showing marvelous agilityfor a man who had just tumbled in a heap. The next instant he heldaloft the revolver, crying triumphantly:

"How's that, umpire? Out, I expect. "

The constable, with set teeth, still rubbed his wounded wrist, realizing the helplessness of a struggle. 

"Now, Stoliker, " said Yates, pointing the pistol at him, "what have youto say before I fire?"

"Nothing, " answered the constable, "except that you will be hanged atWelland, instead of staying a few days in jail. "

Yates laughed. "That's not bad, Stoliker; and I really believe there'ssome grit in you, if you _are_ a man-catcher. Still, you were notin very much danger, as perhaps you knew. Now, if you should want thispistol again, just watch where it alights. " And Yates, taking theweapon by the muzzle, tossed it as far as he could into the field. 

Stoliker watched its flight intently, then, putting his hand into hispocket, he took out some small object and flung it as nearly as hecould to the spot where the revolver fell. 

"Is that how you mark the place?" asked Yates; "or is it some spellthat will enable you to find the pistol?"

"Neither, " answered the constable quietly. "It is the key of thehandcuffs. The duplicate is at Welland. "

Yates whistled a prolonged note, and looked with admiration at thelittle man. He saw the hopelessness of the situation. If he attemptedto search for the key in the long grass, the chances were ten to onethat Stoliker would stumble on the pistol before Yates found the key, in which case the reporter would be once more at the mercy of the law. 

"Stoliker, you're evidently fonder of my company than I am of yours. That wasn't a bad strategic move on your part, but it may cause yousome personal inconvenience before I get these handcuffs filed off. I'mnot going to Welland this trip, as you may be disappointed to learn. Ihave gone with you as far as I intend to. You will now come with me. "

"I shall not move, " replied the constable firmly. 

"Very well, stay there, " said Yates, twisting his hand around so as tograsp the chain that joined the cuffs. Getting a firm grip, he walkedup the road, down which they had tramped a few minutes before. Stolikerset his teeth and tried to hold his ground, but was forced to follow. Nothing was said by either until several hundred yards were thustraversed. Then Yates stopped. 

"Having now demonstrated to you the fact that you must accompany me, Ihope you will show yourself a sensible man, Stoliker, and come with mequietly. It will be less exhausting for both of us, and all the same inthe end. You can do nothing until you get help. I am going to see thefight, which I feel sure will be a brief one, so I don't want to loseany more time in getting back. In order to avoid meeting people, andhaving me explain to them that you are my prisoner, I propose we gothrough the fields. "

One difference between a fool and a wise man is that the wise manalways accepts the inevitable. The constable was wise. The two crossedthe rail fence into the fields, and walked along peaceably together--Stoliker silent, as usual, with the grim confidence of a man who iscertain of ultimate success, who has the nation behind him, with allits machinery working in his favor; Yates talkative, argumentative, andinstructive by turns, occasionally breaking forth into song when theunresponsiveness of the other rendered conversation difficult. 

"Stoliker, how supremely lovely and quiet and restful are the silent, scented, spreading fields! How soothing to a spirit tired of the city'sdin is this solitude, broken only by the singing of the birds and thedrowsy droning of the bee, erroneously termed 'bumble'! The greenfields, the shady trees, the sweet freshness of the summer air, untainted by city smoke, and over all the eternal serenity of the blueunclouded sky--how can human spite and human passion exist in such aparadise? Does it all not make you feel as if you were an innocentchild again, with motives pure and conscience white?"

If Stoliker felt like an innocent child, he did not look it. Withclouded brow he eagerly scanned the empty fields, hoping for help. But, although the constable made no reply, there was an answer thatelectrified Yates, and put all thought of the beauty of the country outof his mind. The dull report of a musket, far in front of them, suddenly broke the silence, followed by several scattering shots, andthen the roar of a volley. This was sharply answered by the ring ofrifles to the right. With an oath, Yates broke into a run. 

"They're at it!" he cried, "and all on account of your confoundedobstinacy I shall miss the whole show. The Fenians have opened fire, and the Canadians have not been long in replying. "

The din of the firing now became incessant. The veteran in Yates wasaroused. He was like an old war horse who again feels the intoxicatingsmell of battle smoke. The lunacy of gunpower shone in his gleamingeye. 

"Come on, you loitering idiot!" he cried to the constable, who haddifficulty in keeping pace with him; "come on, or, by the gods! I'llbreak your wrist across a fence rail and tear this brutal iron fromit. "

The savage face of the prisoner was transformed with the passion ofwar, and, for the first time that day, Stoliker quailed before theinsane glare of his eyes. But if he was afraid, he did not show hisfear to Yates. 

"Come on, _you_!" he shouted, springing ahead, and giving a twistto the handcuffs well known to those who have to deal with refractorycriminals. "I am as eager to see the fight as you are. "

The sharp pain brought Yates to his senses again. He laughed, and said:"That's the ticket, I'm with you. Perhaps you would not be in such ahurry if you knew that I am going into the thick the fight, and intendto use you as a shield from the bullets. "

"That's all right, " answered the little constable, panting. "Two sidesare firing. I'll shield you on one side, and you'll have to shield meon the other. "

Again Yates laughed, and they ran silently together. Avoiding thehouses, they came out at the Ridge Road. The smoke rolled up above thetrees, showing where the battle was going on some distance beyond. Yates made the constable cross the fence and the road, and take to thefields again, bringing him around behind Bartlett's house and barn. Noone was visible near the house except Kitty Bartlett, who stood at theback watching, with pale and anxious face, the rolling smoke, now andthen covering her ears with her hands as the sound of an extra loudvolley assailed them. Stoliker lifted up his voice and shouted forhelp. 

"If you do that again, " cried Yates, clutching him by the throat, "I'llchoke you!"

But he did not need to do it again. The girl heard the cry, turned witha frightened look, and was about to fly into the house when sherecognized the two. Then she came toward them. Yates took his hand awayfrom the constable's throat. 

"Where is your father or your brother?" demanded the constable. 

"I don't know. "

"Where is your mother?"

"She is over with Mrs. Howard, who is ill. "

"Are you all alone?"

"Yes. "

"Then I command you, in the name of the Queen, to give no assistance tothis prisoner, but to do as I tell you. "

"And I command you, in the name of the President, " cried Yates, "tokeep your mouth shut, and not to address a lady like that. Kitty, " hecontinued in a milder tone, "could you tell me where to get a file, sothat I may cut these wrist ornaments? Don't you get it. You are to donothing. Just indicate where the file is. The law mustn't have any holdon you, as it seems to have on me. "

"Why don't you make him unlock them?" asked Kitty. 

"Because the villain threw away the key in the fields. "

"He couldn't have done that. "

The constable caught his breath. 

"But he did. I saw him. "

"And I saw him unlock them at breakfast. The key was on the end of hiswatch chain. He hasn't thrown that away. "

She made a move to take out his watch chain but Yates stopped her. 

"Don't touch him. I'm playing a lone hand here. " He jerked out thechain, and the real key dangled from it. 

"Well, Stoliker, " he said, "I don't know which to admire most--yourcleverness and pluck, my stupidity, or Miss Bartlett's acuteness ofobservation. Can we get into the barn, Kitty?"

"Yes; but you mustn't hurt him. "

"No fear. I think too much of him. Don't you come in. I'll be out in amoment, like the medium from a spiritualistic dark cabinet. "

Entering the barn, Yates forced the constable up against the squareoaken post which was part of the framework of the building, and whichformed one side of the perpendicular ladder that led to the top of thehay mow. 

"Now, Stoliker, " he, said solemnly, "you realize, of course, that Idon't want to hurt you yet you also realize that I _must_ hurt youif you attempt any tricks. I can't take any risks, please rememberthat; and recollect that, by the time you are free again, I shall be inthe State of New York. So don't compel me to smash your head againstthis post. " He, with some trouble, unlocked the clasp on his own wrist;then, drawing Stoliker's right hand around the post, he snapped thesame clasp on the constable's hitherto free wrist. The unfortunate man, with his cheek against the oak, was in the comical position of lovinglyembracing the post. 

"I'll get you a chair from the kitchen, so that you will be morecomfortable--unless, like Samson, you can pull down the supports. ThenI must bid you good-by. "

Yates went out to the girl, who was waiting for him. 

"I want to borrow a kitchen chair, Kitty, " he said, "so that poorStoliker will get a rest. "

They walked toward the house. Yates noticed that the firing had ceased, except a desultory shot here and there across the country. 

"I shall have to retreat over the border as quickly as I can, " hecontinued. "This country is getting too hot for me. "

"You are much safer here, " said the girl, with downcast eyes. "A manhas brought the news that the United States gunboats are sailing up anddown the river, making prisoners of all who attempt to cross from thisside. "

"You don't say! Well, I might have known that. Then what am I to dowith Stoliker? I can't keep him tied up here. Yet the moment he getsloose I'm done for. "

"Perhaps mother could persuade him not to do anything more. Shall I gofor her?"

"I don't think it would be any use. Stoliker's a stubborn animal. Hehas suffered too much at my hands to be in a forgiving mood. We'llbring him a chair anyhow, and see the effect of kindness on him. "

When the chair was placed at Stoliker's disposal, he sat down upon it, still hugging the post with an enforced fervency that, in spite of thesolemnity of the occasion, nearly made Kitty laugh, and lit up her eyeswith the mischievousness that had always delighted Yates. 

"How long am I to be kept here?" asked the constable. 

"Oh, not long, " answered Yates cheerily; "not a moment longer than isnecessary. I'll telegraph when I'm safe in New York State; so you won'tbe here more than a day or two. "

This assurance did not appear to bring much comfort to Stoliker. 

"Look here, " he said; "I guess I know as well as the next man when I'mbeaten. I have been thinking all this over. I am under the sheriff'sorders, and not under the orders of that officer. I don't believeyou've done anything, anyhow, or you wouldn't have acted quite the wayyou did. If the sheriff had sent me, it would have been different. Asit is, if you unlock those cuffs, I'll give you my word I'll do nothingmore unless I'm ordered to. Like as not they've forgotten all about youby this time; and there's nothing on record, anyhow. "

"Do you mean it? Will you act square?"

"Certainly I'll act square. I don't suppose you doubt that. I didn'task any favors before, and I did what I could to hold you. "

"Enough said, " cried Yates. "I'll risk it. "

Stoliker stretched his arms wearily above his head when he wasreleased. 

"I wonder, " he said, now that Kitty was gone, "if there is anything toeat in the house?"

"Shake!" cried Yates, holding out his hand to him. "Another great andmutual sentiment unites us, Stoliker. Let us go and see. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The man who wanted to see the fight did not see it, and the man who didnot want to see it saw it. Yates arrived on the field of conflict whenall was over; Renmark found the battle raging around him before herealized that things had reached a crisis. 

When Yates reached the tent, he found it empty and torn by bullets. Thefortunes of war had smashed the jar, and the fragments were strewnbefore the entrance, probably by some disappointed man who had tried tosample the contents and had found nothing. 

"Hang it all!" said Yates to himself, "I wonder what the fiveassistants that the _Argus_ sent me have done with themselves? Ifthey are with the Fenians, beating a retreat, or, worse, if they arecaptured by the Canadians, they won't be able to get an account of thisscrimmage through to the paper. Now, this is evidently the biggest itemof the year--it's international, by George! It may involve England andthe United States in a war, if both sides are not extra mild andcautious. I can't run the chance of the paper being left in the lurch. Let me think a minute. Is it my tip to follow the Canadians or theFenians? I wonder is which is running the faster? My men are evidentlywith the Fenians, if they were on the ground at all. If I go after theIrish Republic, I shall run the risk of duplicating things; but if Ifollow the Canadians, they may put me under arrest. Then we have moreFenian sympathizers among our readers than Canadians, so the accountfrom the invasion side of the fence will be the more popular. Yet aCanadian version would be a good thing, if I were sure the rest of theboys got in their work, and the chances are that the other papers won'thave any reporters among the Canucks. Heavens! What is a man to do?I'll toss up for it. Heads, the Fenians. "

He spun the coin in the air, and caught it. "Heads it is! The Feniansare my victims. I'm camping on their trail, anyhow. Besides, it's saferthan following the Canadians, even though Stoliker has got my pass. "

Tired as he was, he stepped briskly through the forest. The scent of abig item was in his nostrils, and it stimulated him like champagne. What was temporary loss of sleep compared to the joy of defeating theopposition press?

A blind man might have followed the trail of the retreating army. Theyhad thrown away, as they passed through the woods, every article thatimpeded their progress. Once he came on a man lying with his face inthe dead leaves. He turned him over. 

"His troubles are past, poor devil, " said Yates, as he pushed on. 

"Halt! Throw up your hands!" came a cry from in front of him. 

Yates saw no one, but he promptly threw up his hands, being anadaptable man. 

"What's the trouble?" he shouted. "I'm retreating, too. "

"Then retreat five steps farther. I'll count the steps. One. "

Yates strode one step forward, and then saw that a man behind a treewas covering him with a gun. The next step revealed a second captor, with a huge upraised hammer, like a Hercules with his club. Both menhad blackened faces, and resembled thoroughly disreputable fiends ofthe forest. Seated on the ground, in a semicircle, were half a dozendejected prisoners. The man with the gun swore fearfully, but hiscomrade with the hammer was silent. 

"Come, " said the marksman, "you blank scoundrel, and take a seat withyour fellow-scoundrels. If you attempt to run, blank blank you, I'llfill you full of buckshot!"

"Oh, I'm not going to run, Sandy, " cried Yates, recognizing him. "Whyshould I? I've always enjoyed your company, and Macdonald's. How areyou, Mac? Is this a little private raid of your own? For which side areyou fighting? And I say, Sandy, what's the weight of that old-fashionedbar of iron you have in your hands? I'd like to decide a bet. Let meheft it, as you said in the shop. "

"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Sandy in a disappointed tone, lowering hisgun. "I thought we had raked in another of them. The old man and I wantto make it an even dozen. "

"Well, I don't think you'll capture any more. I saw nobody as I camethrough the woods. What are you going to do with this crowd?"

"Brain 'em, " said Macdonald laconically, speaking for the first time. Then he added reluctantly: "If any of 'em tries to escape. "

The prisoners were all evidently too tired and despondent to make anyattempt at regaining their liberty. Sandy winked over Macdonald'sshoulder at Yates, and by a slight side movement of his head he seemedto indicate that he would like to have some private conversation withthe newspaper man. 

"I'm not your prisoner, am I?" asked Yates. 

"No, " said Macdonald. "You may go if you like, but not in the directionthe Fenians have gone. "

"I guess I won't need to go any farther, if you will give me permissionto interview your prisoners. I merely want to get some points about thefight. "

"That's all right, " said the blacksmith, "as long as you don't try tohelp them. If you do, I warn you there will be trouble. "

Yates followed Sandy into the depths of the forest, out of hearing ofthe others, leaving Macdonald and his sledge-hammer on guard. 

When at a safe distance, Sandy stopped and rested his arms on his gun, in a pathfinder attitude. 

"Say, " he began anxiously, "you haven't got some powder and shot on youby any chance?"

"Not an ounce. Haven't you any ammunition?"

"No, and haven't had all through the fight. You see, we left the shopin such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as aman on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the oldman he grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left atthe shop for repairs, and off we started. I'm not sure that it wouldshoot if I had ammunition, but I'd like to try. I've scared some ofthem Fee-neens nigh to death with it, but I was always afraid one ofthem would pull a real gun on me, and then I don't know just what I'd'a' done. "

Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, butwas somewhat loath to acknowledge it: "Next battle there is you won'tfind me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I'd sooner have the oldman's sledge. It don't miss fire. " His eye brightened as he thought ofMacdonald. "Say, " he continued, with a jerk of his head back over hisshoulder, "the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?"

"He is, " said Yates, "but, for that matter, so are you. You can swearnearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?"

"Oh, well, you see, " said Sandy apologetically, "it don't come asnatural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody's got to swear. The oldman's converted, you know. "

"Ah, hasn't he backslid yet?"

"No, he hasn't. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, but it didn't; and now I think that if somebody near by does a littlecussing, --not that anyone can cuss like the boss, --he'll pull through. I think he'll stick this time. You'd ought to have seen him wading intothem d--d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing 'Onward, Christian soldiers. ' Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and againwhen things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was a sight. He bowled 'em over like nine-pins. Youought to 'a' been there. "

"Yes, " said Yates regretfully. "I missed it, all on account of thataccursed Stoliker. Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, butI'll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I'll letyou know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugsof tobacco that you ever put your teeth into. "

Sandy's eyes glittered. "Bless you!" was all he could say, as he bitoff a corner of the offered plug. 

"You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; Ithought you were out. "

"I haven't had a bite all day. That's the trouble with leaving in ahurry. "

"Well, you may keep that plug, with my regards. Now, I want to get backand interview those fellows. There's no time to be lost. "

When they reached the group, Macdonald said:

"Here's a man says he knows you, Mr. Yates. He claims he is a reporter, and that you will vouch for him. "

Yates strode forward, and looked anxiously at the prisoners, hoping, yet fearing, to find one of his own men there. He was a selfish man, and wanted the glory of the day to be all his own. He soon recognizedone of the prisoners as Jimmy Hawkins of the staff of a rival daily, the New York _Blade_. This was even worse than he had anticipated. 

"Hello, Jimmy!" he said, "how did you get here?"

"I was raked in by that adjective fool with the unwashed face. "

"Whose a--fool?" cried Macdonald in wrath, and grasping his hammer. Heboggled slightly as he came to the "adjective, " but got over it safely. It was evidently a close call, but Sandy sprang to the rescue, andcursed Hawkins until even the prisoners turned pale at the torrent ofprofanity. Macdonald looked with sad approbation at his pupil, notknowing that he was under the stimulus of newly acquired tobacco, wondering how he had attained such proficiency in malediction; for, like all true artists, he was quite unconscious of his own merit inthat direction. 

"Tell this hammer wielder that I'm no anvil. Tell him that I'm anewspaper man, and didn't come here to fight. He says that if youguarantee that I'm no Fenian he'll let me go. "

Yates sat down on a fallen log, with a frown on his brow. He liked todo a favor to a fellow-creature when the act did not inconveniencehimself, but he never forgot the fact that business was business. 

"I can't conscientiously tell him that, Jimmy, " said Yates soothingly. "How am I to know you are not a Fenian?"

"Bosh!" cried Hawkins angrily. "Conscientiously? A lot you think ofconscience when there is an item to be had. "

"We none of us live up to our better nature, Jimmy, " continued Yatesfeelingly. "We can but do our best, which is not much. For reasons thatyou might fail to understand, I do not wish to run the risk of tellinga lie. You appreciate my hesitation, don't you, Mr. Macdonald? Youwould not advise me to assert a thing I was not sure of, would you?"

"Certainly not, " said the blacksmith earnestly. 

"You want to keep me here because you are afraid of me, " cried theindignant _Blade_ man. "You know very well I'm not a Fenian. "

"Excuse me, Jimmy, but I know nothing of the kind. I even suspectmyself of Fenian leanings. How, then, can I be sure of you?"

"What's your game?" asked Hawkins more calmly, for he realized that hehimself would not be slow to take advantage of a rival's dilemma. 

"My game is to get a neat little account of this historical episodesent over the wires to the _Argus_. You see, Jimmy, this is mybusy day. When the task is over, I will devote myself to your service, and will save you from being hanged, if I can; although I shall do sowithout prejudice, as the lawyers say, for I have always held that thatwill be the ultimate end of all the _Blade_ staff. 

"Look here, Yates; play fair. Don't run in any conscientious guff on aprisoner. You see, I have known you these many years. "

"Yes, and little have you profited by a noble example. It is yourknowledge of me that makes me wonder at your expecting me to let youout of your hole without due consideration. "

"Are you willing to make a bargain?

"Always--when the balance of trade is on my side. "

"Well, if you give me a fair start, I'll give you some exclusiveinformation that you can't get otherwise. "

"What is it?"

"Oh, I wasn't born yesterday, Dick. "

"That is interesting information, Jimmy, but I knew it before. Haven'tyou something more attractive to offer?"

"Yes, I have. I have the whole account of the expedition and the fightwritten out, all ready to send, if I could get my clutches on atelegraph wire. I'll hand it over to you, and allow you to read it, ifyou will get me out of this hole, as you call it. I'll give youpermission to use the information in any way you choose, if you willextricate me, and all I ask is a fair start in the race for a telegraphoffice. "

Yates pondered over the proposition for some moments. 

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Jimmy, " he finally said. "I'll buy thataccount from you, and give you more money than the _Blade_ will. And when I get back to New York I'll place you on the staff of the_Argus_ at a higher salary than the _Blade_ gives you--takingyour own word for the amount. "

"What! And leave my paper in the lurch? Not likely. "

"Your paper is going to be left in the lurch, anyhow. "

"Perhaps. But it won't be sold by me. I'll burn my copy before I willlet you have a glimpse of it. That don't need to interfere with yourmaking me an offer of a better position when we get back to New York;but while my paper depends on me, I won't go back on it. "

"Just as you please, Jimmy. Perhaps I would do the same myself. Ialways was weak where the interests of the _Argus_ were concerned. You haven't any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?"

"I have, but I won't lend it. "

Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. 

"Now, Mac, " he said, "tell me all you saw of this fight. "

The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a markon his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell ofsledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said. Oneafter another Yates interviewed the prisoners, and gathered togetherall the materials for that excellent full-page account "by aneyewitness" that afterward appeared in the columns of the _Argus_. He had a wonderful memory, and simply jotted down figures with which hedid not care to burden his mind. Hawkins laughed derisively now andthen at the facts they were giving Yates, but the _Argus_ mansaid nothing, merely setting down in shorthand some notes of theinformation Hawkins sneered at, which Yates considered was more thanlikely accurate and important. When he had got all he wanted, he rose. 

"Shall I send you help, Mac?" he asked. 

"No, " said the smith; "I think I'll take these fellows to the shop, andhold them there till called for. You can't vouch for Hawkins, then, Mr. Yates?"

"Good Heavens, no! I look on him as the most dangerous of the lot. These half-educated criminals, who have no conscientious scruples, always seem to me a greater menace to society than their more ignorantco-conspirators. Well, good-by, Jimmy. I think you'll enjoy life downat Mac's shop. It's the best place I've struck since I've been in thedistrict. Give my love to all the boys, when they come to gaze at you. I'll make careful inquiries into your opinions, and as soon as I amconvinced that you can be set free with safety to the community I'lldrop in on you and do all I can. Meanwhile, so long. "

Yates' one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write hisarticle as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fearsabout the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying toget through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. Hequickly made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, if the Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride asrapidly as he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reachedthe edge of the woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. He found young Bartlett at the barn. 

"Any news of the horses yet?" was the first question he asked. 

"No, " said young Bartlett gloomily; "guess they've rode away withthem. "

"Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraphoffice. Where is the likeliest place to find one?"

"I don't know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraphboy's nag; it's in the stable now, having a feed. "

"What telegraph boy?"

"Oh, didn't you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and Ithought he had found you. "

"No, I haven't been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has somenews for me. I'm going to the house to write, so send him in as soon ashe gets back. Be sure you don't let him get away before I see him. "

"I'll lock the stable, " said young Bartlett, "and then he won't get thehorse, at any rate. "

Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that thegirl cried anxiously:

"Are they after you again, Mr. Yates?"

"No, Kitty; I'm after them. Say, I want all the blank paper you have inthe house. Anything will do, so long as it will hold a lead-pencilmark. "

"A copy book--such as the children use in school?"

"Just the thing. "

In less than a minute the energetic girl had all the materials herequired ready for him in the front room. Yates threw off his coat, andwent to work as if he were in his own den in the _Argus_ building. 

"This is a ---- of a vacation, " he muttered to himself, as he drove hispencil at lightning speed over the surface of the paper. He took nonote of the time until he had finished; then he roused himself andsprang to his feet. 

"What in thunder has become of that telegraph boy?" he cried. "Well, itdoesn't matter; I'll take the horse without his permission. "

He gathered up his sheets, and rushed for the kitchen. He was somewhatsurprised to see the boy sitting there, gorging himself with the goodthings which that kitchen always afforded. 

"Hello, youngster! how long have you been here?"

"I wouldn't let him go in to disturb you while you were writing, " saidKitty, the boy's mouth being too full to permit of a reply. 

"Ah, that was right. Now, sonny, gulp that down and come in here; Iwant to talk to you for a minute. "

The boy followed him into the front room. 

"Well, my son, I want to borrow your horse for the rest of the day. "

"You can't have it, " said the boy promptly. 

"Can't have it? I must have it. Why, I'll take it. You don't imagineyou can stop me, do you?"

The boy drew himself up, and folded his arms across his breast. 

"What do you want with the horse, Mr. Yates?" he asked. 

"I want to get to the nearest telegraph office. I'll pay you well forit. "

"And what am I here for?"

"Why, to eat, of course. They'll feed you high while you wait. "

"Canadian telegraph office?"

"Certainly. "

"It's no good, Mr. Yates. Them Canadians couldn't telegraph all you'vewritten in two weeks. I know 'em, " said the boy with infinite scorn. "Besides, the Government has got hold of all the wires, and you can'tget a private message through till it gets over its fright. "

"By George!" cried Yates, taken aback, "I hadn't thought of that. Areyou sure, boy?"

"Dead certain. "

"Then what's to be done? I must get through to Buffalo. "

"You can't. United States troops won't let you. They're stoppingeverybody--except me, " he added, drawing himself up, as if he were theone individual who stood in with the United States Government. 

"Can you get this dispatch through?"

"You bet! That's why I came back. I knew, as soon as I looked at you, that you would write two or three columns of telegraph; and your papersaid 'Spare no expense, ' you remember. So says I to myself: 'I'll helpMr. Yates to spare no expense. I'll get fifty dollars from that youngman, seeing I'm the only person who can get across in time. '"

"You were mighty sure of it, weren't you?"

"You just bet I was. Now, the horse is fed and ready, I'm fed andready, and we're losing valuable time waiting for that fifty dollars. "

"Suppose you meet another newspaper man who wants to get his dispatchthrough to another paper, what will you do?"

"Charge him the same as I do you. If I meet two other newspaper men, that will be one hundred and fifty dollars; but if you want to makesure that I won't meet any more newspaper men, let us call it onehundred dollars, and I'll take the risk of the odd fifty for the readycash; then if I meet a dozen newspaper men, I'll tell them I'm atelegraph boy on a vacation. "

"Quite so. I think you will be able to take care of yourself in a coldand callous world. Now, look here, young man; I'll trust you if you'lltrust me. I'm not a traveling mint, you know. Besides, I pay byresults. If you don't get this dispatch through, you don't getanything. I'll give you an order for a hundred dollars, and as soon asI get to Buffalo I'll pay you the cash. I'll have to draw on the_Argus_ when I get to Buffalo; if my article has appeared, you getyour cash; if it hasn't, you're out. See?"

"Yes, I see. It won't do, Mr. Yates. "

"Why won't it do?"

"Because I say it won't. This is a cash transaction. Money down, or youdon't get the goods. I'll get it through all right, but if I just miss, I'm not going to lose the money. "

"Very well, I'll take it to the Canadian telegraph office. "

"All right, Mr. Yates. I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were somegood. You aint got no sense, but I wish you luck. When I was at yourtent, there was a man with a hammer taking a lot of men out of thewoods. When one of them sees my uniform, he sings out he'd give metwenty-five dollars to take his stuff. I said I'd see him later, and Iwill. Good-by, Mr. Yates. "

"Hold on, there! You're a young villain. You'll end in state's prisonyet, but here's your money. Now, you ride like a house a-fire. "

After watching the departing boy until he was out of sight Yates, witha feeling of relief, started back to the tent. He was worried about theinterview the boy had had with Hawkins, and he wondered, now that itwas too late, whether, after all, he had not Hawkins' manuscript in hispocket. He wished he had searched him. That trouble, however, did notprevent him from sleeping like the dead the moment he lay down in thetent. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The result of the struggle was similar in effect to an American railwayaccident of the first class. One officer and five privates were killedon the Canadian side, one man was missing, and many were wounded. Thenumber of the Fenians killed will probably never be known. Several wereburied on the field of battle, others were taken back by O'Neill'sbrigade when they retreated. 

Although the engagement ended as Yates had predicted, yet he was wrongin his estimate of the Canadians. Volunteers are invariably underratedby men of experience in military matters. The boys fought well, evenwhen they saw their ensign fall dead before them. If the affair hadbeen left entirely in their hands, the result might have beendifferent--as was shown afterward, when the volunteers, unimpeded byregulars, quickly put down a much more formidable rising in theNorthwest. But in the present case they were hampered by theirdependence on the British troops, whose commander moved them with allthe ponderous slowness of real war, and approached O'Neill as if he hadbeen approaching Napoleon. He thus managed to get in a day after thefair on every occasion, being too late for the fight at Ridgeway, andtoo late to capture any considerable number of the flying Fenians atFort Erie. The campaign, on the Canadian side, was magnificentlyplanned and wretchedly carried out. The volunteers and regulars were tomeet at a point close to where the fight took place, but the Britishcommander delayed two hours in starting, which fact the Canadiancolonel did not learn until too late. These blunders culminated in aghastly mistake on the field. The Canadian colonel ordered his men tocharge across an open field, and attack the Fenian force in the woods--a brilliant but foolish move. To the command the volunteers gallantlyresponded, but against stupidity the gods are powerless. In the fieldthey were appalled to hear the order given to form square and receivecavalry. Even the schoolboys knew the Fenians could have no cavalry. 

Having formed their square, the Canadians found themselves the helplesstargets of the Fenians in the woods. If O'Neill's forces had shot withreasonable precision, they must have cut the volunteers to pieces. Thelatter were victorious, if they had only known it; but, in thishopeless square, panic seized them, and it was every man for himself;at the same time, the Fenians were also retreating as fast as theycould. This farce is known as the battle of Ridgeway, and would havebeen comical had it not been that death hovered over it. The comedy, without the tragedy, was enacted a day or two before at a bloodlessskirmish which took place near a hamlet called Waterloo, which affrayis dignified in Canadian annals as the second battle of that name. 

When the Canadian forces retreated, Renmark, who had watched thecontest with all the helpless anxiety of a noncombatant, sharing thedanger, but having no influence upon the result, followed them, makinga wide detour to avoid the chance shots which were still flying. Heexpected to come up with the volunteers on the road, but was notsuccessful. Through various miscalculations he did not succeed infinding them until toward evening. At first they told him that youngHoward was with the company, and unhurt, but further inquiry soondisclosed the fact that he had not been seen since the fight. He wasnot among those who were killed or wounded, and it was nightfall beforeRenmark realized that opposite his name on the roll would be placed theominous word "missing. " Renmark remembered that the boy had said hewould visit his home if he got leave; but no leave had been asked for. At last Renmark was convinced that young Howard was either badlywounded or dead. The possibility of his desertion the professor did notconsider for a moment, although he admitted to himself that it was hardto tell what panic of fear might come over a boy who, for the firsttime in his life, found bullets flying about his ears. 

With a heavy heart Renmark turned back and made his way to the fatalfield. He found nothing on the Canadian side. Going over to the woods, he came across several bodies lying where they fell; but they were allthose of strangers. Even in the darkness he would have had nodifficulty in recognizing the volunteer uniform which he knew so well. He walked down to the Howard homestead, hoping, yet fearing, to hearthe boy's voice--the voice of a deserter. Everything was silent aboutthe house, although a light shone through an upper window, and alsothrough one below. He paused at the gate, not knowing what to do. Itwas evident the boy was not here, yet how to find the father orbrother, without alarming Margaret or her mother, puzzled him. As hestood there the door opened, and he recognized Mrs. Bartlett andMargaret standing in the light. He moved away from the gate, and heardthe older woman say:

"Oh, she will be all right in the morning, now that she has fallen intoa nice sleep. I wouldn't disturb her to-night, if I were you. It isnothing but nervousness and fright at that horrible firing. It's allover now, thank God. Good-night, Margaret. "

The good woman came through the gate, and then ran, with all the speedof sixteen, toward her own home. Margaret stood in the doorway, listening to the retreating footsteps. She was pale and anxious, butRenmark thought he had never seen anyone so lovely; and he was startledto find that he had a most un-professor-like longing to take her in hisarms and comfort her. Instead of bringing her consolation, he feared itwould be his fate to add to her anxiety; and it was not until he sawshe was about to close the door that he found courage to speak. 

"Margaret, " he said. 

The girl had never heard her name pronounced in that tone before, andthe cadence of it went direct to her heart, frightening her with anunknown joy. She seemed unable to move or respond, and stood there, with wide eyes and suspended breath, gazing into the darkness. Renmarkstepped into the light, and she saw his face was haggard with fatigueand anxiety. 

"Margaret, " he said again, "I want to speak with you a moment. Where isyour brother?"

"He has gone with Mr. Bartlett to see if he can find the horses. Thereis something wrong, " she continued, stepping down beside him. "I cansee it in your face. What is it?"

"Is your father in the house?"

"Yes, but he is worried about mother. Tell me what it is. It is betterto tell me. "

Renmark hesitated. 

"Don't keep me in suspense like this, " cried the girl in a low butintense voice. "You have said too much or too little. Has anythinghappened to Henry?"

"No. It is about Arthur I wanted to speak. You will not be alarmed?"

"I _am_ alarmed. Tell, me quickly. " And the girl in her excitementlaid her hands imploringly on his. 

"Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you knowthat?"

"He never told me. I understand--I think so, but I hope not. He was inthe battle today. Is he--has he been--hurt?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid so, " said Renmark hurriedly, now that thetruth had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of thegirl's unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. "He was withthe volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don't knowwhere he is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that hehas been left behind. I have been all over the ground. "

"Yes, yes?"

"But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him. "

"Take me to where the volunteers were, " she sobbed. "I know what hashappened. Come quickly. "

"Will you not put something on your head?"

"No, no. Come at once. " Then, pausing, she said: "Shall we need alantern?"

"No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house. "

Margaret ran along the road so swiftly that Renmark had some trouble inkeeping pace with her. She turned at the side road, and sped up thegentle ascent to the spot where the volunteers had crossed it. 

"Here is the place, " said Renmark. 

"He could not have been hit in the field, " she cried breathlessly, "forthen he might have reached the house at the corner without climbing afence. If he was badly hurt, he would have been here. Did you searchthis field?"

"Every bit of it. He is not here. "

"Then it must have happened after he crossed the road and the secondfence. Did you see the battle?"

"Yes. "

"Did the Fenians cross the field after the volunteers?"

"No; they did not leave the woods. "

"Then, if he was struck, it could not have been far from the other sideof the second fence. He would be the last to retreat; and that is whythe others did not see him, " said the girl, with confident pride in herbrother's courage. 

They crossed the first fence; the road, and the second fence, the girlwalking ahead for a few paces. She stopped, and leaned for a momentagainst a tree. "It must have been about here, " she said in a voicehardly audible. "Have you searched on this side?"

"Yes, for half a mile farther into the fields and woods. "

"No, no, not there; but down along the fence. He knew every inch ofthis ground. If he were wounded here, he would at once try to reach ourhouse. Search down along the fence. I--I cannot go. "

Renmark walked along the fence, peering into the dark corners made bythe zigzag of the rails; and he knew, without looking back, thatMargaret, with feminine inconsistency, was following him. Suddenly shedarted past him, and flung herself down in the long grass, wailing outa cry that cut Renmark like a knife. 

The boy lay with his face in the grass, and his outstretched handgrasping the lower rail of the fence. He had dragged himself this far, and reached an insurmountable obstacle. 

Renmark drew the weeping girl gently away, and rapidly ran his handover the prostrate lad. He quickly opened his tunic, and a thrill ofjoy passed over him as he felt the faint beating of the heart. 

"He is alive!" he cried. "He will get well, Margaret. " A statementsomewhat premature to make on so hasty an examination. 

He rose, expecting a look of gratitude from the girl he loved. He wasamazed to see her eyes almost luminous in the darkness, blazing withwrath. 

"When did you know he was with the volunteers?"

"This morning--early, " said the professor, taken aback. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"He asked me not to do so. "

"He is a mere boy. You are a man, and ought to have a man's sense. Youhad no right to mind what a boy said. It was my right to know, and yourduty to tell me. Through your negligence and stupidity my brother haslain here all day--perhaps dying, " she added with a break in her angryvoice. 

"If you had known--I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw thevolunteers. I have not lost a moment since. "

"I should have known he was missing, without going to the volunteers. "

Renmark was so amazed at the unjust accusation, from a girl whom he hadmade the mistake of believing to be without a temper of her own, thathe knew not what to say. He was, however, to have one more example ofinconsistency. 

"Why do you stand there doing nothing, now that I have found him?" shedemanded. 

It was on his tongue to say: "I stand here because you stand thereunjustly quarreling with me, " but he did not say it. Renmark was not aready man, yet he did, for once, the right thing. 

"Margaret, " he said sternly, "throw down that fence. "

This curt command, delivered in his most schoolmastery manner, wasinstantly obeyed. Such a task may seem a formidable one to set to ayoung woman, but it is a feat easily accomplished in some parts ofAmerica. A rail fence lends itself readily to demolition. Margarettossed a rail to the right, one to the left, and to the right again, until an open gap took the place of that part of the fence. Theprofessor examined the young soldier in the meantime, and found his leghad been broken by a musket ball. He raised him up tenderly in hisarms, and was pleased to hear a groan escape his lips. He walkedthrough the open gap and along the road toward the house, bearing theunconscious form of his pupil. Margaret silently kept close to hisside, her fingers every now and then unconsciously caressing the damp, curly locks of her brother. 

"We shall have to get a doctor?" Her assertion was half an inquiry. 

"Certainly. "

"We must not disturb anyone in the house. It is better that I shouldtell you what to do now, so that we need not talk when we reach there. "

"We cannot help disturbing someone. "

"I do not think it will be necessary. If you will stay with Arthur, Iwill go for the doctor, and no one need know. "

"I will go for the doctor. "

"You do not know the way. It is five or six miles. I will ride Gypsy, and will soon be back. "

"But there are prowlers and stragglers all along the roads. It is notsafe for you to go alone. "

"It is perfectly safe. No horse that the stragglers have stolen canovertake Gypsy. Now, don't say anything more. It is best that I shouldgo. I will run on ahead, and enter the house quietly. I will take thelamp to the room at the side, where the window opens to the floor. Carry him around there. I will be waiting for you at the gate, and willshow you the way. "

With that the girl was off, and Renmark carried his burden alone. Shewas waiting for him at the gate, and silently led the way round thehouse, to where the door-window opened upon the bit of lawn under anapple tree. The light streamed out upon the grass. He placed the boygently upon the dainty bed. It needed no second glance to tell Renmarkwhose room he was in. It was decorated with those pretty littleknickknacks so dear to the heart of a girl in a snuggery she can callher own. 

"It is not likely you will be disturbed here, " she whispered, "until Icome back. I will tap at the window when I come with the doctor. "

"Don't you think it would be better and safer for me to go? I don'tlike the thought of your going alone. "

"No, no. Please do just what I tell you. You do not know the way. Ishall be very much quicker. If Arthur should--should--wake, he willknow you, and will not be alarmed, as he might be if you were astranger. "

Margaret was gone before he could say anything more, and Renmark satdown, devoutly hoping no one would rap at the door of the room while hewas there. 

CHAPTER XX. 

Margaret spoke caressingly to her horse, when she opened the stabledoor, and Gypsy replied with that affectionate, low guttural whinnywhich the Scotch graphically term "nickering. " She patted the littleanimal; and if Gypsy was surprised at being saddled and bridled at thathour of the night, no protest was made, the horse merely rubbing itsnose lovingly up and down Margaret's sleeve as she buckled thedifferent straps. There was evidently a good understanding between thetwo. 

"No, Gyp, " she whispered, "I have nothing for you to-night--nothing buthard work and quick work. Now, you mustn't make a noise till we getpast the house. "

On her wrist she slipped the loop of a riding whip, which she alwayscarried, but never used. Gyp had never felt the indignity of the lash, and was always willing to do what was required merely for a word. 

Margaret opened the big gate before she saddled her horse, and therewas therefore no delay in getting out upon the main road, although thepassing of the house was an anxious moment. She feared that if herfather heard the steps or the neighing of the horse he might come outto investigate. Halfway between her own home and Bartlett's house shesprang lightly into the saddle. 

"Now, then, Gyp!"

No second word was required. Away they sped down the road toward theeast, the mild June air coming sweet and cool and fresh from thedistant lake, laden with the odors of the woods and the fields. Thestillness was intense, broken only by the plaintive cry of thewhippoorwill, America's one-phrased nightingale, or the still moreweird and eerie note of a distant loon. 

The houses along the road seemed deserted; no lights were shownanywhere. The wildest rumors were abroad concerning the slaughter ofthe day; and the population, scattered as it was, appeared to haveretired into its shell. A spell of silence and darkness was over theland, and the rapid hoof beats of the horse sounded with startlingdistinctness on the harder portions of the road, emphasized byintervals of complete stillness, when the fetlocks sank in the sand andprogress was more difficult for the plucky little animal. The onlythrill of fear that Margaret felt on her night journey was when sheentered the dark arch of an avenue of old forest trees that borderedthe road, like a great, gloomy cathedral aisle, in the shadow of whichanything might be hidden. Once the horse, with a jump of fear, startedsideways and plunged ahead: Margaret caught her breath as she saw, orfancied she saw, several men stretched on the roadside, asleep or dead. Once in the open again she breathed more freely, and if it had not beenfor the jump of the horse, she would have accused her imagination ofplaying her a trick. Just as she had completely reassured herself ashadow moved from the fence to the middle of the road, and a sharpvoice cried:

"Halt!"

The little horse, as if it knew the meaning of the word, planted itstwo front hoofs together, and slid along the ground for a moment, coming so quickly to a standstill that it was with some difficultyMargaret kept her seat. She saw in front of her a man holding a gun, evidently ready to fire if she attempted to disobey his command. 

"Who are you, and where are you going?" he demanded. 

"Oh, please let me pass!" pleaded Margaret with a tremor of fear in hervoice. "I am going for a doctor--for my brother; he is badly wounded, and will perhaps die if I am delayed. "

The man laughed. 

"Oho!" he cried, coming closer; "a woman, is it? and a young one, too, or I'm a heathen. Now, miss or missus, you get down. I'll have toinvestigate this. The brother business won't work with an old soldier. It's your lover you're riding for at this time of the night, or I'm nojudge of the sex. Just slip down, my lady, and see if you don't like mebetter than him; remember that all cats are black in the dark. Getdown, I tell you. "

"If you are a soldier, you will let me go. My brother is badly wounded. I must get to the doctor. "

"There's no 'must' with a bayonet in front of you. If he has beenwounded, there's plenty of better men killed to-day. Come down, mydear. "

Margaret gathered up the bridle rein, but, even in the darkness, theman saw her intention. 

"You can't escape, my pretty. If you try it, you'll not be hurt, butI'll kill your horse. If you move, I'll put a bullet through him. "

"Kill my horse?" breathed Margaret in horror, a fear coming over herthat she had not felt at the thought of danger to herself. 

"Yes, missy, " said the man, approaching nearer, and laying his hand onGypsy's bridle. "But there will be no need of that. Besides, it wouldmake too much noise, and might bring us company, which would beinconvenient. So come down quietly, like the nice little girl you are. "

"If you will let me go and tell the doctor, I will come back here andbe your prisoner. "

The man laughed again in low, tantalizing tones. This was a good joke. 

"Oh, no, sweetheart. I wasn't born so recently as all that. A girl inthe hand is worth a dozen a mile up the road. Now, come off that horse, or I'll take you off. This is war time, and I'm not going to waste anymore pretty talk on you. "

The man, who, she now saw, was hatless, leered up at her, and somethingin his sinister eyes made the girl quail. She had been so quiet that heapparently was not prepared for any sudden movement. Her right hand, hanging down at her side, had grasped the short riding whip, and, witha swiftness that gave him no chance to ward off the blow, she struckhim one stinging, blinding cut across the eyes, and then brought downthe lash on the flank of her horse, drawing the animal round with herleft over her enemy. With a wild snort of astonishment, the horsesprang forward, bringing man and gun down to the ground with a clatterthat woke the echoes; then, with an indignant toss of the head, Gypsped along the road like the wind. It was the first time he had everfelt the cut of a whip, and the blow was not forgiven. Margaret, fearing further obstruction on the road, turned her horse's head towardthe rail fence, and went over it like a bird. In the field, where fastgoing in the dark had dangers, Margaret tried to slacken the pace, butthe little horse would not have it so. He shook his head angrilywhenever he thought of the indignity of that blow, while Margaretleaned over and tried to explain and beg pardon for her offense. Thesecond fence was crossed with a clean-cut leap, and only once in thenext field did the horse stumble, but quickly recovered and went on atthe same breakneck gait. The next fence, gallantly vaulted over, brought them to the side road, half a mile up which stood the doctor'shouse. Margaret saw the futility of attempting a reconciliation untilthe goal was won. There, with difficulty, the horse was stopped, andthe girl struck the panes of the upper window, through which a lightshone, with her riding whip. The window was raised, and the situationspeedily explained to the physician. 

"I will be with you in a moment, " he said. 

Then Margaret slid from the saddle, and put her arms around the neck ofthe trembling horse. Gypsy would have nothing to do with her, andsniffed the air with offended dignity. 

"It _was_ a shame, Gyp, " she cried, almost tearfully, stroking theglossy neck of her resentful friend; "it was, it was, and I know it;but what was I to do, Gyp? You were the only protector I had, and you_did_ bowl him over beautifully; no other horse could have done itso well. It's wicked, but I do hope you hurt him, just because I had tostrike you. "

Gypsy was still wrathful, and indicated by a toss of the head that thewheedling of a woman did not make up for a blow. It was the insult morethan the pain; and from her--there was the sting of it. 

"I know--I know just how you feel, Gypsy dear; and I don't blame youfor being angry. I might have spoken to you, of course, but there wasno time to think, and it was really him I was striking. That's why itcame down so hard. If I had said a word, he would have got out of theway, coward that he was, and then would have shot you--_you_, Gypsy! Think of it!"

If a man can be molded in any shape that pleases a clever woman, howcan a horse expect to be exempt from her influence. Gypsy showed signsof melting, whinnying softly and forgivingly. 

"And it will never happen again, Gypsy--never, never. As soon as we aresafe home again I will burn that whip. You little pet, I knew youwouldn't----"

Gypsy's head rested on Margaret's shoulder, and we must draw a veilover the reconciliation. Some things are too sacred for a mere man tomeddle with. The friends were friends once more, and on the altar offriendship the unoffending whip was doubtless offered as a burningsacrifice. 

When the doctor came out, Margaret explained the danger of the road, and proposed that they should return by the longer and northern way--the Concession, as it was called. 

They met no one on the silent road, and soon they saw the light in thewindow. 

The doctor and the girl left their horses tied some distance from thehouse, and walked together to the window with the stealthy steps of apair of housebreakers. Margaret listened breathlessly at the closedwindow, and thought she heard the low murmur of conversation. Shetapped lightly on the pane, and the professor threw back the door-window. 

"We were getting very anxious about you, " he whispered. 

"Hello, Peggy!" said the boy, with a wan smile, raising his headslightly from the pillow and dropping it back again. 

Margaret stooped over and kissed him. 

"My poor boy! what a fright you have given me!"

"Ah, Margery, think what a fright I got myself. I thought I was goingto die within sight of the house. "

The doctor gently pushed Margaret from the room. Renmark waited untilthe examination was over, and then went out to find her. 

She sprang forward to meet him. 

"It is all right, " he said. "There is nothing to fear. He has beenexhausted by loss of blood, but a few days' quiet will set that right. Then all you will have to contend against will be his impatience atbeing kept to his room, which may be necessary for some weeks. "

"Oh, I am so glad! and--and I am so much obliged to you, Mr. Renmark!"

"I have done nothing--except make blunders, " replied the professor witha bitterness that surprised and hurt her. 

"How can you say that? You have done everything. We owe his life toyou. "

Renmark said nothing for a moment. Her unjust accusation in the earlierpart of the night had deeply pained him, and he hoped for some hint ofdisclaimer from her. Belonging to the stupider sex, he did not realizethat the words were spoken in a state of intense excitement and fear, that another woman would probably have expressed her condition of mindby fainting instead of talking, and that the whole episode had leftabsolutely no trace on the recollection of Margaret. At last Renmarkspoke:

"I must be getting back to the tent, if it still exists. I think I hadan appointment there with Yates some twelve hours ago, but up to thismoment I had forgotten it. Good-night. "

Margaret stood for a few moments alone, and wondered what she had doneto offend him. He stumbled along the dark road, not heeding much thedirection he took, but automatically going the nearest way to the tent. Fatigue and the want of sleep were heavy upon him, and his feet were aslead. Although dazed, he was conscious of a dull ache where his heartwas supposed to be, and he vaguely hoped he had not made a fool ofhimself. He entered the tent, and was startled by the voice of Yates:

"Hello! hello! Is that you, Stoliker?"

"No; it is Renmark. Are you asleep?"

"I guess I have been. Hunger is the one sensation of the moment. Haveyou provided anything to eat within the last twenty-four hours?"

"There's a bag full of potatoes here, I believe. I haven't been nearthe tent since early morning. "

"All right; only don't expect a recommendation from me as cook. I'm notyet hungry enough for raw potatoes. What time has it got to be?"

"I'm sure I don't know. "

"Seems as if I had been asleep for weeks. I'm the latest edition of RipVan Winkle, and expect to find my mustache gray in the morning. I wasdreaming sweetly of Stoliker when you fell over the bunk. "

"What have you done with him?"

"I'm not wide enough awake to remember. I _think_ I killed him, but wouldn't be sure. So many of my good resolutions go wrong that verylikely he is alive at this moment. Ask me in the morning. What have youbeen prowling after all night?"

There was no answer. Renmark was evidently asleep. 

"I'll ask _you_ in the morning, " muttered Yates drowsily--afterwhich there was silence in the tent. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Yates had stubbornly refused to give up his search for rest and quietin spite of the discomfort of living in a leaky and battered tent. Heexpressed regret that he had not originally camped in the middle ofBroadway, as being a quieter and less exciting spot than the place hehad chosen; but, having made the choice, he was going to see the lastdog hung, he said. Renmark had become less and less of a comrade. Hewas silent, and almost as gloomy as Hiram Bartlett himself. When Yatestried to cheer him up by showing him how much worse another man'sposition might be, Renmark generally ended the talk by taking to thewood. 

"Just reflect on my position, " Yates would say. "Here I am dead in lovewith two lovely girls, both of whom are merely waiting for the word. Toone of them I have nearly committed myself, which fact, to a man of mytemperament, inclines me somewhat to the other. Here I am anxious toconfide in you, and yet I feel that I risk a fight every time I talkabout the complication. You have no sympathy for me, Renny, when I needsympathy; while I am bubbling over with sympathy for you, and you won'thave it. Now, what would you do if you were in my fix? If you wouldtake five minutes and show me clearly which of the two girls I reallyought to marry, it would help me ever so much, for then I would besure to settle on the other. It is the indecision that is slowly butsurely sapping my vitality. "

By this time, Renmark would have pulled his soft felt hat over hiseyes, and, muttering words that would have echoed strangely in thesilent halls of the university building, would plunge into the forest. Yates generally looked after his retreating figure without anger, butwith mild wonder. 

"Well, of all cantankerous cranks he is the worst, " he would say with asigh. "It is sad to see the temple of friendship tumble down aboutone's ears in this way. " At their last talk of this kind Yates resolvednot to discuss the problem again with the professor, unless a crisiscame. The crisis came in the form of Stoliker, who dropped in on Yatesas the latter lay in the hammock, smoking and enjoying a thrillingromance. The camp was strewn with these engrossing, paper-coveredworks, and Yates had read many of them, hoping to came across a casesimilar to his own, but up to the time of Stoliker's visit he had notsucceeded. 

"Hello, Stoliker! how's things? Got the cuffs in your pocket? Want tohave another tour across country with me?"

"No. But I came to warn you. There will be a warrant out to-morrow ornext day, and, if I were you, I would get over to the other side;though you need never say I told you. Of course, if they give thewarrant to me, I shall have to arrest you; and although nothing may bedone to you, still, the country is in a state of excitement, and youwill at least be put to some inconvenience. "

"Stoliker, " cried Yates, springing out of the hammock, "you are a whiteman! You're a good fellow, Stoliker, and I'm ever so much obliged. Ifyou ever come to New York, you call on me at the _Argus_ office, --anybody will show you where it is, --and I'll give you the liveliesttime you ever had in your life. It won't cost you a cent, either. "

"That's all right, " said the constable. "Now, if I were you, I wouldlight out to-morrow at the latest. "

"I will, " said Yates. 

Stoliker disappeared quietly among the trees, and Yates, after amoment's thought, began energetically to pack up his belongings. It wasdark before he had finished, and Renmark returned. 

"Stilly, " cried the reporter cheerily, "there's a warrant out for myarrest. I shall have to go to-morrow at the latest!"

"What! to jail?" cried his horrified friend, his conscience nowtroubling him, as the parting came, for his lack of kindness to an oldcomrade. 

"Not if the court knows herself. But to Buffalo, which is pretty muchthe same thing. Still, thank goodness, I don't need to stay there long. I'll be in New York before I'm many days older. I yearn to plunge intothe arena once more. The still, calm peacefulness of this wholevacation has made me long for excitement again, and I'm glad thewarrant has pushed me into the turmoil. "

"Well, Richard, I'm sorry you have to go under such conditions. I'mafraid I have not been as companionable a comrade as you should havehad. "

"Oh, you're all right, Renny. The trouble with you is that you havedrawn a little circle around Toronto University, and said to yourself:'This is the world. ' It isn't, you know. There is something outside ofall that. "

"Every man, doubtless, has his little circle. Yours is around the_Argus_ office. "

"Yes, but there are special wires from that little circle to all therest of the world, and soon there will be an Atlantic cable. "

"I do not hold that my circle is as large as yours; still, there issomething outside of New York, even. "

"You bet your life there is; and, now that you are in a moresympathetic frame of mind, it is that I want to talk with you about. Those two girls are outside my little circle, and I want to bring oneof them within it. Now, Renmark, which of those girls would you chooseif you were me?"

The professor drew in his breath sharply, and was silent for a moment. At last he said, speaking slowly:

"I am afraid, Mr. Yates, that you do not quite appreciate my point ofview. As you may think I have acted in an unfriendly manner, I will tryfor the first and final time to explain it. I hold that any man whomarries a good woman gets more than he deserves, no matter how worthyhe may be. I have a profound respect for all women, and I think thatyour light chatter about choosing between two is an insult to both ofthem. I think either of them is infinitely too good for you--or for meeither. "

"Oh, you do, do you? Perhaps you think that you would make a muchbetter husband than I. If that is the case, allow me to say you areentirely wrong. If your wife was sensitive, you would kill her withyour gloomy fits. I wouldn't go off in the woods and sulk, anyhow. "

"If you are referring to me, I will further inform you that I hadeither to go off in the woods or knock you down. I chose the less oftwo evils. "

"Think you could do it, I suppose? Renny, you're conceited. You're notthe first man who has made such a mistake, and found he was barking upthe wrong tree when it was too late for anything but bandages andarnica. "

"I have tried to show you how I feel regarding this matter. I mighthave known I should not succeed. We will end the discussion, if youplease. "

"Oh, no. The discussion is just beginning. Now, Renny, I'll tell youwhat you need. You need a good, sensible wife worse than any man Iknow. It is not yet too late to save you, but it soon will be. Youwill, before long, grow a crust on you like a snail, or a lobster, orany other cold-blooded animal that gets a shell on itself. Then nothingcan be done for you. Now, let me save you, Renny, before it is toolate. Here is my proposition: You choose one of those girls and marryher. I'll take the other. I'm not as unselfish as I may seem in this, for your choice will save me the worry of making up my own mind. According to your talk, either of the girls is too good for you, andfor once I entirely agree with you. But let that pass. Now, which oneis it to be?"

"Good God! man, do you think I am going to bargain with you about myfuture wife?"

"That's right, Renny. I like to hear you swear. It shows you are notyet the prig you would have folks believe. There's still hope for you, professor. Now, I'll go further with you. Although I cannot make up mymind just what to do myself, I can tell instantly which is the girl foryou, and thus we solve both problems at one stroke. You need a wife whowill take you in hand. You need one who will not put up with yourtantrums, who will be cheerful, and who will make a man of you. KittyBartlett is the girl. She will tyrannize over you, just as her motherdoes over the old man. She will keep house to the queen's taste, anddelight in getting you good things to eat. Why, everything is as plainas a pikestaff. That shows the benefit of talking over a thing. Youmarry Kitty, and I'll marry Margaret. Come, let's shake hands over it. "Yates held up his right hand, ready to slap it down on the open palm ofthe professor, but there was no response. Yates' hand came down to hisside again, but he had not yet lost the enthusiasm of his proposal. Themore he thought of it the more fitting it seemed. 

"Margaret is such a sensible, quiet, level-headed girl that, if I am asflippant as you say, she will be just the wife for me. There are depthsin my character, Renmark, that you have not suspected. "

"Oh, you're deep. "

"I admit it. Well, a good, sober-minded woman would develop the bestthat is in me. Now, what do you say, Renny?"

"I say nothing. I am going into the woods again, dark as it is. "

"Ah, well, " said Yates with a sigh, "there's no doing anything with youor for you. I've tried my best; that is one consolation. Don't go away. I'll let fate decide. Here goes for a toss-up. "

And Yates drew a silver half dollar from his pocket. "Heads forMargaret!" he cried. Renmark clinched his fist, took a step forward, then checked himself, remembering that this was his last night with theman who had at least once been his friend. 

Yates merrily spun the coin in the air, caught it in one hand, andslapped the other over it. 

"Now for the turning point in the lives of two innocent beings. " Heraised the covering hand, and peered at the coin in the gatheringgloom. "Heads it is. Margaret Howard becomes Mrs. Richard Yates. Congratulate me, professor. "

Renmark stood motionless as a statue, an object lesson in self-control. Yates set his hat more jauntily on his head, and slipped the epoch-making coin into his trousers pocket. 

"Good-by, old man, " he said. "I'll see you later, and tell you all theparticulars. "

Without waiting for the answer, for which he probably knew there wouldhave been little use in delaying, Yates walked to the fence and sprangover it, with one hand on the top rail. Renmark stood still for someminutes, then, quietly gathering underbrush and sticks large and small, lighted a fire, and sat down on a log, with his head in his hands. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Yates walked merrily down the road, whistling "Gayly the troubadour. "Perhaps there is no moment in a man's life when he feels the joy ofbeing alive more keenly than when he goes to propose to a girl of whosefavorable answer he is reasonably sure--unless it be the moment hewalks away an accepted lover. There is a magic about a June night, withits soft, velvety darkness and its sweet, mild air laden with theperfumes of wood and field. The enchantment of the hour threw its spellover the young man, and he resolved to live a better life, and beworthy of the girl he had chosen, or, rather, that fate had chosen forhim. He paused a moment, leaning over the fence near the Howardhomestead, for he had not yet settled in his own mind the details ofthe meeting. He would not go in, for in that case he knew he would haveto talk, perhaps for hours, with everyone but the person he wished tomeet. If he announced himself and asked to see Margaret alone, hisdoing so would embarrass her at the very beginning. Yates was naturallytoo much of a diplomat to begin awkwardly. As he stood there, wishingchance would bring her out of the house, there appeared a light in thedoor-window of the room where he knew the convalescent boy lay. Margaret's shadow formed a silhouette on the blind. Yates caught up ahandful of sand, and flung it lightly against the pane. Its soft patterevidently attracted the attention of the girl, for, after a moment'spause, the window opened carefully, while Margaret stepped quickly outand closed it, quietly standing there. 

"Margaret, " whispered Yates hardly above his breath. 

The girl advanced toward the fence. 

"Is that _you_?" she whispered in return, with an accent on thelast word that thrilled her listener. The accent told plainly as speechthat the word represented the one man on earth to her. 

"Yes, " answered Yates, springing over the fence and approaching her. 

"Oh!" cried Margaret, starting back, then checking herself, with acatch in her voice. "You--you startled me--Mr. Yates. "

"Not Mr. Yates any more, Margaret, but Dick. Margaret, I wanted to seeyou alone. You know why I have come. " He tried to grasp both her hands, but she put them resolutely behind her, seemingly wishing to retreat, yet standing her ground. 

"Margaret, you must have seen long ago how it is with me. I love you, Margaret, loyally and truly. It seems as if I had loved you all mylife. I certainly have since the first day I saw you. "

"Oh, Mr. Yates, you must not talk to me like this. "

"My darling, how else _can_ I talk to you? It cannot be a surpriseto you, Margaret. You must have known it long ago. "

"I did not, indeed I did not--if you really mean it. "

"Mean it? I never meant anything as I mean this. It is everything tome, and nothing else is anything. I have knocked about the world a gooddeal, I admit, but I never was in love before--never knew what love wasuntil I met you. I tell you that----"

"Please, please, Mr. Yates, do not say anything more. If it is reallytrue, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I hope nothing I have said ordone has made you believe that--that--Oh, I do not know what to say! Inever thought you could be in earnest about anything. "

"You surely cannot have so misjudged me, Margaret. Others have, but Idid not expect it of you. You are far and away better than I am. No oneknows that so well as I. I do not pretend to be worthy of you, but Iwill be a devoted husband to you. Any man who gets the love of a goodwoman, " continued Yates earnestly, plagiarizing Renmark, "gets morethan he deserves; but surely such love as mine is not given merely tobe scornfully trampled underfoot. "

"I do not treat your--you scornfully. I am only sorry if what you sayis true. "

"Why do you say _if_ it is true? Don't you know it is true?"

"Then I am very sorry--very, _very_ sorry, and I hope it isthrough no fault of mine. But you will soon forget me. When you returnto New York----"

"Margaret, " said the young man bitterly, "I shall never forget you. Think what you are doing before it is too late. Think how much thismeans to me. If you finally refuse me, you will wreck my life. I am thesort of man that a woman can make or mar. Do not, I beg of you, ruinthe life of the man who loves you. "

"I am not a missionary, " cried Margaret with sudden anger. "If yourlife is to be wrecked, it will be through your own foolishness, and notfrom any act of mine. I think it cowardly of you to say that I am to beheld responsible. I have no wish to influence your future one way oranother. "

"Not for good, Margaret?" asked Yates with tender reproach. 

"No. A man whose good or bad conduct depends on anyone but himself isnot my ideal of a man. "

"Tell me what your ideal is, so that I may try to attain it. "

Margaret was silent. 

"You think it will be useless for me to try?"

"As far as I am concerned, yes. "

"Margaret, I want to ask you one more question. I have no right to, butI beg you to answer me. Are you in love with anyone else?"

"No!" cried Margaret hotly. "How dare you ask me such a question?"

"Oh, it is not a crime--that is, being in love with someone else isnot. I'll tell you why I dare ask. I swear, by all the gods, that Ishall win you--if not this year, then next; and if not next, then theyear after. I was a coward to talk as I did; but I love you more nowthan I did even then. All I want to know is that you are not in lovewith another man. 

"I think you are very cruel in persisting as you do, when you have hadyour answer. I say no. Never! never! never!--this year nor any otheryear. Is not that enough?"

"Not for me. A woman's 'no' may ultimately mean 'yes. '"

"That is true, Mr. Yates, " replied Margaret, drawing herself up as onewho makes a final plunge. "You remember the question you asked me justnow?--whether I cared for anyone else? I said 'no. ' That 'no' meant'yes. '"

He was standing between her and the window, so she could not escape bythe way she came. He saw she meditated flight, and made as though hewould intercept her, but she was too quick for him. She ran around thehouse, and he heard a door open and shut. 

He knew he was defeated. Dejectedly he turned to the fence, climbingslowly over where he had leaped so lightly a few minutes before, andwalked down the road, cursing his fate. Although he admitted he was acoward for talking to her as he had done about his wrecked life, yet heknew now that every word he had spoken was true. What did the futurehold out to him? Not even the incentive to live. He found himselfwalking toward the tent, but, not wishing to meet Renmark in hispresent frame of mind, he turned and came out on the Ridge Road. He wastired and broken, and resolved to stay in camp until they arrested him. Then perhaps she might have some pity on him. Who was the other man sheloved? or had she merely said that to give finality to her refusal? Inhis present mood he pictured the worst, and imagined her the wife ofsome neighboring farmer--perhaps even of Stoliker. These country girls, he said to himself, never believed a man was worth looking at unless heowned a farm. He would save his money, and buy up the wholeneighborhood; _then_ she would realize what she had missed. Heclimbed up on the fence beside the road, and sat on the top rail, withhis heels resting on a lower one, so that he might enjoy his miserywithout the fatigue of walking. His vivid imagination pictured himselfas the owner in a few years' time of a large section of that part ofthe country, with mortgages on a good deal of the remainder, includingthe farm owned by Margaret's husband. He saw her now, a farmer's fadedwife, coming to him and begging for further time in which to pay theseven per cent. Due. He knew he would act magnanimously on such anoccasion, and grandly give her husband all the time he required. Perhaps then she would realize the mistake she had made. Or perhapsfame, rather than riches, would be his line. His name would ringthroughout the land. He might become a great politician, and bankruptCanada with a rigid tariff law. The unfairness of making the wholeinnocent people suffer for the inconsiderate act of one of them did notoccur to him at the moment, for he was humiliated and hurt. There is nobitterness like that which assails the man who has been rejected by thegirl he adores--while it lasts. His eye wandered toward the black massof the Howard house. It was as dark as his thoughts. He turned his headslowly around, and, like a bright star of hope, there glimmered up theroad a flickering light from the Bartletts' parlor window. Althoughtime had stopped as far as he was concerned, he was convinced it couldnot be very late, or the Bartletts would have gone to bed. It is alwaysdifficult to realize that the greatest of catastrophes are generallyover in a few minutes. It seemed an age since he walked so hopefullyaway from the tent. As he looked at the light the thought struck himthat perhaps Kitty was alone in the parlor. She at least would not havetreated him so badly as the other girl; and--and she was pretty, too, come to think of it. He always did like a blonde better than abrunette. 

A fence rail is not a comfortable seat. It is used in some parts of thecountry in such a manner as to impress the sitter with the fact of itsextreme discomfort, and as a gentle hint that his presence is notwanted in that immediate neighborhood. Yates recollected this, with asmile, as he slid off and stumbled into the ditch by the side of theroad. His mind had been so preoccupied that he had forgotten about theditch. As he walked along the road toward the star that guided him heremembered he had recklessly offered Miss Kitty to the callousprofessor. After all, no one knew about the episode of a short timebefore except himself and Margaret, and he felt convinced she was not agirl to boast of her conquests. Anyhow, it didn't matter. A man issurely master of himself. 

As he neared the window he looked in. People are not particular aboutlowering the blinds in the country. He was rather disappointed to seeMrs. Bartlett sitting there knitting, like the industrious woman shewas. Still it was consoling to note that none of the men-folks werepresent, and that Kitty, with her fluffy hair half concealing her face, sat reading a book he had lent to her. He rapped at the door, and itwas opened by Mrs. Bartlett, with some surprise. 

"For the land's sake! is that you, Mr. Yates?"

"It is. "

"Come right in. Why, what's the matter with you? You look as if you hadlost your best friend. Ah, I see how it is, "--Yates started, --"you haverun out of provisions, and are very likely as hungry as a bear. "

"You've hit it first time, Mrs. Bartlett. I dropped around to see if Icould borrow a loaf of bread. We don't bake till to-morrow. "

Mrs. Bartlett laughed. 

"Nice baking you would do if you tried it. I'll get you a loaf in aminute. Are you sure one is enough?"

"Quite enough, thank you. "

The good woman bustled out to the other room for the loaf, and Yatesmade good use of her temporary absence. 

"Kitty, " he whispered, "I want to see you alone for a few minutes. I'llwait for you at the gate. Can you slip out?"

Kitty blushed very red and nodded. 

"They have a warrant out for my arrest, and I'm off to-morrow beforethey can serve it. But I couldn't go without seeing you. You'll come, sure?"

Again Kitty nodded, after looking up at him in alarm when he spoke ofthe warrant. Before anything further could be said Mrs. Bartlett camein, and Kitty was absorbed in her book. 

"Won't you have something to eat now before you go back?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett. You see, the professor is waitingfor me. "

"Let him wait, if he didn't have sense enough to come. "

"He didn't. I offered him the chance. "

"It won't take us a moment to set the table. It is not the leasttrouble. "

"Really, Mrs. Bartlett, you are very kind. I am not in the slightestdegree hungry now. I am merely taking some thought of the morrow. No; Imust be going, and thank you very much. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Bartlett, seeing him to the door, "if there'sanything you want, come to me, and I will let you have it if it's inthe house. "

"You are too good to me, " said the young man with genuine feeling, "andI don't deserve it; but I may remind you of your promise--to-morrow. "

"See that you do, " she answered. "Good-night. "

Yates waited at the gate, placing the loaf on the post, where he forgotit, much to the astonishment of the donor in the morning. He did nothave to wait long, for Kitty came around the house somewhatshrinkingly, as one who was doing the most wicked thing that had beendone since the world began. Yates hastened to meet her, clasping one ofher unresisting hands in his. 

"I must be off to-morrow, " he began. 

"I am very sorry, " answered Kitty in a whisper. 

"Ah, Kitty, you are not half so sorry as I am. But I intend to comeback, if you will let me. Kitty, you remember that talk we had in thekitchen, when we--when there was an interruption, and when I had to goaway with our friend Stoliker?"

Kitty indicated that she remembered it. 

"Well, of course you know what I wanted to say to you. Of course youknow what I want to say to you now. "

It seemed, however, that in this he was mistaken, for Kitty had not theslightest idea, and wanted to go into the house, for it was late, andher mother would miss her. 

"Kitty, you darling little humbug, you know that I love you. You mustknow that I have loved you ever since the first day I saw you, when youlaughed at me. Kitty, I want you to marry me and make something of me, if that is possible. I am a worthless fellow, not half good enough fora little pet like you; but, Kitty, if you will only say 'yes, ' I willtry, and try hard, to be a better man than I have ever been before. "

Kitty did not say "yes" but she placed her disengaged hand, warm andsoft, upon his, and Yates was not the man to have any hesitation aboutwhat to do next. To practical people it may seem an astonishing thingthat, the object of the interview being happily accomplished, thereshould be any need of prolonging it; yet the two lingered there, and hetold her much of his past life, and of how lonely and sordid it hadbeen because he had no one to care for him--at which her pretty eyesfilled with tears. She felt proud and happy to think she had won thefirst great love of a talented man's life, and hoped she would make himhappy, and in a measure atone for the emptiness of the life that hadgone before. She prayed that he might always be as fond of her as hewas then, and resolved to be worthy of him if she could. 

Strange to say, her wishes have been amply fulfilled, and few wives areas happy or as proud of their husbands as Kitty Yates. The one womanwho might have put the drop of bitterness in her cup of life merelykissed her tenderly when Kitty told her of the great joy that had cometo her, and said she was sure she would be happy; and thus for thesecond time Margaret told the thing that was not, but for once Margaretwas wrong in her fears. 

Yates walked to the tent a glorified man, leaving his loaf on thegatepost behind him. Few realize that it is quite as pleasant to beloved as to love. The verb "to love" has many conjugations. The earthhe trod was like no other ground he had ever walked upon. The magic ofthe June night was never so enchanting before. He strode along with hishead and his thoughts in the clouds, and the Providence that cares forthe intoxicated looked after him, and saw that the accepted lover cameto no harm. He leaped the fence without even putting his hand to it, and then was brought to earth again by the picture of a man sittingwith his head in his hands beside a dying fire. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Yates stood for a moment regarding the dejected attitude of his friend. 

"Hello, old man!" he cried, "you have the most 'hark-from-the-tombs'appearance I ever saw. What's the matter?"

Renmark looked up. 

"Oh, it's you, is it?"

"Of course it's I. Been expecting anybody else?"

"No. I have been waiting for you, and thinking of a variety of things. "

"You look it. Well, Renny, congratulate me, my boy. She's mine, and I'mhers--which are two ways of stating the same delightful fact. I'm up ina balloon, Renny. I'm engaged to the prettiest, sweetest, and mostdelightful girl there is from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What d'yethink of that? Say, Renmark, there's nothing on earth like it. Youought to reform and go in for being in love. It would make a man ofyou. Champagne isn't to be compared to it. Get up here and dance, anddon't sit there like a bear nursing a sore paw. Do you comprehend thatI am to be married to the darlingest girl that lives?"

"God help her!"

"That's what I say. Every day of her life, bless her! But I don't sayit quite in that tone, Renmark. What's the matter with you? One wouldthink you were in love with the girl yourself, if such a thing werepossible. "

"Why is it not possible?"

"If that is a conundrum, I can answer it the first time. Because youare a fossil. You are too good, Renny; therefore dull anduninteresting. Now, there is nothing a woman likes so much as toreclaim a man. It always annoys a woman to know that the man she isinterested in has a past with which she has had nothing to do. If he iswicked and she can sort of make him over, like an old dress, she revelsin the process. She flatters herself she makes a new man of him, andthinks she owns that new man by right of manufacture. We owe it to thesex, Renny, to give 'em a chance at reforming us. I have known men whohated tobacco take to smoking merely to give it up joyfully for thesake of the women they loved. Now, if a man is perfect to begin with, what is a dear, ministering angel of a woman to do with him? Manifestlynothing. The trouble with you, Renny, is that you are too evidentlyruled by a good and well-trained conscience, and naturally all womenyou meet intuitively see this, and have no use for you. A littlewickedness would be the making of you. "

"You think, then, that if a man's impulse is to do what his consciencetells him is wrong, he should follow his impulse, and not hisconscience?"

"You state the case with unnecessary seriousness. I believe that anoccasional blow-out is good for a man. But if you ever have an impulseof that kind, I think you should give way to it for once, just to seehow it feels. A man who is too good gets conceited about himself. "

"I half believe you are right, Mr. Yates, " said the professor, rising. "I will act on your advice, and, as you put it, see how it feels. Myconscience tells me that I should congratulate you, and wish you a longand happy life with the girl you have--I won't say chosen, but tossedup for. The natural man in me, on the other hand, urges me to breakevery bone in your worthless body. Throw off your coat, Yates. "

"Oh, I say, Renmark, you're crazy. "

"Perhaps so. Be all the more on your guard, if you believe it. Alunatic is sometimes dangerous. "

"Oh, go away. You're dreaming. You're talking in your sleep. What!Fight? Tonight? Nonsense!"

"Do you want me to strike you before you are ready?"

"No, Renny, no. My wants are always modest. I don't wish to fight atall, especially to-night. I'm a reformed man, I tell you. I have nodesire to bid good-by to my best girl with a black eye to-morrow. "

"Then stop talking, if you can, and defend yourself. "

"It's impossible to fight here in the dark. Don't flatter yourself fora moment that I am afraid. You just spar with yourself and get limberedup, while I put some wood on the fire. This is too ridiculous. "

Yates gathered some fuel, and managed to coax the dying embers into ablaze. 

"There, " he said, "that's better. Now, let me have a look at you. Inthe name of wonder, Renny, what do you want to fight me for to-night?"

"I refuse to give my reason. "

"Then I refuse to fight. I'll run, and I can beat you in a foot raceany day in the week. Why, you're worse than her father. He at least letme know why he fought me. "

"Whose father?"

"Kitty's father, of course--my future father-in-law. And that's anotherordeal ahead of me. I haven't spoken to the old man yet, and I need allmy fighting grit for that. "

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't my language plain? It usually is. "

"To whom are you engaged? As I understand your talk, it is to MissBartlett. Am I right?"

"Right as rain, Renny. This fire is dying down again. Say, can't wepostpone our fracas until daylight? I don't want to gather any morewood. Besides, one of us is sure to be knocked into the fire, and thusruin whatever is left of our clothes. What do you say?"

"Say? I say I am an idiot. "

"Hello! reason is returning, Renny. I perfectly agree with you. "

"Thank you. Then you did not propose to Mar--to Miss Howard?"

"Now, you touch upon a sore spot, Renmark, that I am trying to forget. You remember the unfortunate toss-up; in fact, I think you referred toit a moment ago, and you were justly indignant about it at the time. Well, I don't care to talk much about the sequel; but, as you know thebeginning, you will have to know the end, because I want to wring asacred promise from you. You are never to mention this episode of thetoss-up, or of my confession, to any living soul. The telling of itmight do harm, and it couldn't possibly do any good. Will you promise?"

"Certainly. But do not tell me unless you wish to. "

"I don't exactly yearn to talk about it, but it is better you shouldunderstand how the land lies, so you won't make any mistake. Not on_my_ account, you know, but I would not like it to come to Kitty'sears. Yes, I proposed to Margaret--first. She wouldn't look at me. Canyou credit that?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I----"

"Exactly. I see you _can_ credit it. Well, I couldn't at first;but Margaret knows her own mind, there's no question about _that_. Say! she's in love with some other fellow. I found out that much. "

"You asked her, I presume. "

"Well, it's my profession to find out things; and, naturally, if I dothat for my paper, it is not likely I am going to be behindhand when itcomes to myself. She denied it at first, but admitted it afterward, andthen bolted. "

"You must have used great tact and delicacy. "

"See here, Renmark; I'm not going to stand any of your sneering. I toldyou this was a sore subject with me. I'm not telling you because I liketo, but because I have to. Don't put me in fighting humor, Mr. Renmark. If _I_ talk fight, I won't begin for no reason and then back outfor no reason. I'll go on. "

"I'll be discreet, and beg to take back all I said. What else?"

"Nothing else. Isn't that enough? It was more than enough for me--atthe time. I tell you, Renmark, I spent a pretty bad half hour sittingon the fence and thinking about it. "

"So long as that?"

Yates rose from the fire indignantly. 

"I take that back, too, " cried the professor hastily. "I didn't meanit. "

"It strikes me you've become awfully funny all of a sudden. Don't youthink it's about time we took to our bunks? It's late. "

Renmark agreed with him but did not turn in. He walked to the friendlyfence, laid his arms along the top rail, and gazed at the friendlystars. He had not noticed before how lovely the night was, with itsimpressive stillness, as if the world had stopped, as a steamer stopsin mid-ocean. After quieting his troubled spirit with the restful starshe climbed the fence and walked down the road, taking little heed ofthe direction. The still night was a soothing companion. He came atlast to a sleeping village of wooden houses, and through the center ofthe town ran a single line of rails, an iron link connecting theunknown hamlet with all civilization. A red and a green light glimmereddown the line, giving the only indication that a train ever came thatway. As he went a mile or two farther the cool breath of the great lakemade itself felt, and after crossing a field he suddenly came upon thewater, finding all further progress in that direction barred. Huge sanddunes formed the shore, covered with sighing pines. At the foot of thedunes stretched a broad beach of firm sand, dimly visible in contrastwith the darker water; and at long intervals fell the light ripple ofthe languid summer waves, running up the beach with a half-asleepwhisper, that became softer and softer until it was merged in thesilence beyond. Far out on the dark waters a point of light, like afloating star, showed where a steamer was slowly making her way; and sostill was the night that he felt rather than heard her pulsatingengines. It was the only sign of life visible from that enchanted bay--the bay of the silver beach. 

Renmark threw himself down on the soft sand at the foot of a dune. Thepoint of light gradually worked its way to the west, following, doubtless unconsciously, the star of empire, and disappeared around theheadland, taking with it a certain vague sense of companionship. Butthe world is very small, and a man is never quite as much alone as hethinks he is. Renmark heard the low hoot of an owl among the trees, which cry he was astonished to hear answered from the water. He sat upand listened. Presently there grated on the sand the keel of a boat, and someone stepped ashore. From the woods there emerged the shadowyforms of three men. Nothing was said, but they got silently into theboat, which might have been Charon's craft for all he could see of it. The rattle of the rowlocks and the plash of oars followed, while avoice cautioned the rowers to make less noise. It was evident that somebelated fugitives were eluding the authorities of both countries. Renmark thought, with a smile, that if Yates were in his place he wouldat least give them a fright. A sharp command to an imaginary company toload and fire would travel far on such a night, and would give therowers a few moments of great discomfort. Renmark, however, did notshout, but treated the episode as part of the mystical dream, and laydown on the sand again. He noticed that the water in the east seemed tofeel the approach of morning even before the sky. Gradually the daydawned, a slowly lightening gray at first, until the coming sunspattered a filmy cloud with gold and crimson. Renmark watched theglory of the sunrise, took one lingering look at the curved beauty ofthe bay shore, shook the sand from his clothing, and started back forthe village and the camp beyond. 

The village was astir when he reached it. He was surprised to seeStoliker on horseback in front of one of the taverns. Two assistantswere with him, also seated on horses. The constable seemed disturbed bythe sight of Renmark, but he was there to do his duty. 

"Hello!" he cried, "you're up early. I have a warrant for the arrest ofyour friend: I suppose you won't tell me where he is?"

"You can't expect me to give any information that will get a friendinto trouble, can you? especially as he has done nothing. "

"That's as may turn out before a jury, " said one of the assistantsgravely. 

"Yes, " assented, Stoliker, winking quietly at the professor. "That isfor judge and jury to determine--not you. "

"Well, " said Renmark, "I will not inform about anybody, unless I amcompelled to do so, but I may save you some trouble by telling where Ihave been and what I have seen. I am on my way back from the lake. Ifyou go down there, you will still see the mark of a boat's keel on thesand, and probably footprints. A boat came over from the other shore inthe night, and a man got on board. I don't say who the man was, and Ihad nothing to do with the matter in any way except as a spectator. That is all the information I have to give. "

Stoliker turned to his assistants, and nodded. "What did I tell you?"he asked. "We were right on his track. "

"You said the railroad, " grumbled the man who had spoken before. 

"Well, we were within two miles of him. Let us go down to the lake andsee the traces. Then we can return the warrant. "

Renmark found Yates still asleep in the tent. He prepared breakfastwithout disturbing him. When the meal was ready, he roused the reporterand told him of his meeting with Stoliker, advising him to get back toNew York without delay. 

Yates yawned sleepily. 

"Yes, " he said, "I've been dreaming it all out. I'll get father-in-lawto tote me out to Fort Erie to-night. "

"Do you think it will be safe to put it off so long?"

"Safer than trying to get away during the day. After breakfast I'mgoing down to the Bartlett homestead. Must have a talk with the oldfolks, you know. I'll spend the rest of the day making up for thatinterview by talking with Kitty. Stoliker will never search for methere, and, now that he thinks I'm gone, he will likely make a visit tothe tent. Stoliker is a good fellow, but his strong point is duty, youknow; and if he's certain I'm gone, he'll give his country the worth ofits money by searching. I won't be back for dinner, so you can put inyour time reading my Dime Novels. I make no reflections on yourcooking, Renny, now that the vacation is over; but I have mypreferences, and they incline toward a final meal with the Bartletts. If I were you, I'd have a nap. You look tired out. "

"I am, " said the professor. 

Renmark intended to lie down for a few moments until Yates was clear ofthe camp, after which he determined to pay a visit; but Nature, whenshe got him locked up in sleep, took her revenge. He did not hearStoliker and his satellites search the premises, just as Yates hadpredicted they would; and when he finally awoke, he found to hisastonishment that it was nearly dark. But he was all the better for hissleep, and he attended to his personal appearance with more thanordinary care. 

Old Hiram Bartlett accepted the situation with the patient and grimstolidity of a man who takes a blow dealt him by a Providence known byhim to be inscrutable. What he had done to deserve it was beyond hiscomprehension. He silently hitched up his horses, and, for the firsttime in his life, drove into Fort Erie without any reasonable excusefor going there. He tied his team at the usual corner, after which hesat at one of the taverns and drank strong waters that had no apparenteffect on him. He even went so far as to smoke two native cigars; and aman who can do that can do anything. To bring up a daughter who woulddeliberately accept a man from "the States, " and to have a wife whowould aid and abet such an action, giving comfort and support to theenemy, seemed to him traitorous to all the traditions of 1812, or anyother date in the history of the two countries. At times wild ideas ofgetting blind full, and going home to break every breakable thing inthe house, rose in his mind; but prudence whispered that he had tolive all the rest of his life with his wife, and he realized that thisscheme of vengeance had its drawbacks. Finally, he untied his patientteam, after paying his bill, and drove silently home, not havingreturned, even by a nod, any of the salutations tendered to him thatday. He was somewhat relieved to find no questions were asked, and thathis wife recognized the fact that he was passing through a crisis. Nevertheless, there was a steely glitter in her eye under which heuneasily quailed, for it told him a line had been reached which itwould not be well for him to cross. She forgave, but it must not go anyfurther. 

When Yates kissed Kitty good-night at the gate, he asked her, with sometrepidation, whether she had told anyone of their engagement. 

"No one but Margaret, " said Kitty. 

"And what did she say?" asked Yates, as if, after all, her opinion wasof no importance. 

"She said she was sure I should be happy, and she knew you would make agood husband. "

"She's rather a nice girl, is Margaret, " remarked Yates, with the airof a man willing to concede good qualities to a girl other than hisown, but indicating, after all, that there was but one on earth forhim. 

"She is a lovely girl, " said Kitty enthusiastically. "I wonder, Dick, when you knew her, why you ever fell in love with me. "

"The idea! I haven't a word to say against Margaret; but, compared withmy girl----"

And he finished his sentence with a practical illustration of his frameof mind. 

As he walked alone down the road he reflected that Margaret had actedvery handsomely, and he resolved to drop in and wish her good-by. Butas he approached the house his courage began to fail him, and hethought it better to sit on the fence, near the place where he had satthe night before, and think it over. It took a good deal of thinking. But as he sat there it was destined that Yates should receive someinformation which would simplify matters. Two persons came slowly outof the gate in the gathering darkness. They strolled together up theroad past him, absorbed in themselves. When directly opposite thereporter, Renmark put his arm around Margaret's waist, and Yates nearlyfell off the fence. He held his breath until they were safely out ofhearing, then slid down and crawled along in the shadow until he cameto the side road, up which he walked, thoughtfully pausing every fewmoments to remark: "Well, I'll be----" But speech seemed to have failedhim; he could get no further. 

He stopped at the fence and leaned against it, gazing for the last timeat the tent, glimmering white, like a misshapen ghost, among the sombertrees. He had no energy left to climb over. 

"Well, I'm a chimpanzee, " he muttered to himself at last. "The highestbidder can have me, with no upset price. Dick Yates, I wouldn't havebelieved it of you. _You_ a newspaper man? _You_ a reporterfrom 'way back? _You_ up to snuff? Yates, I'm ashamed to be seenin your company! Go back to New York, and let the youngest reporter infrom a country newspaper scoop the daylight out of you. To think thatthis thing has been going on right under your well-developed nose, andyou never saw it--worse, never had the faintest suspicion of it; thatit was thrust at you twenty times a day--nearly got your stupid headsmashed on account of it; yet you bleated away like the innocent littlelamb that you are, and never even suspected! Dick, you're a three-sheet-poster fool in colored ink. And to think that both of them knowall about the first proposal! _Both_ of them! Well, thank Heaven, Toronto is a long way from New York. "

THE END.