The article was a scathing one under the caption of

"A FOOL AND HIS TRICKS."

It ridiculed the idea of a man like Abner Andrews setting himself up as

a specialist, and warned people to beware of his wiles. The

advertisement proved most conclusively that the man was either a fool or

a deep-dyed villain. He was a fool to make such a pretence at healing

all kinds of diseases. If not a fool, he was pretending to be one. The

article then told of the serious charge which was hanging over the

farmer, and this advertisement of his might be a ruse to make people

think that he was not responsible for his actions, and thus act as a

blind to his real villainous character. It closed with a second warning

to all, and strongly suggested that the law should step in and prohibit

the man from such actions.

This article aroused people much more than the advertisement, and the

talk was most general around town about this peculiar farmer. People

became curious to go to Ash Point to see for themselves what the

"specialist" would do and say, and to learn more about his methods of

healing. The interest increased on Friday, especially among certain

young men, who saw in Abner an object for considerable sport. Even

staid business men, knowing something about Abner's odd ways, smiled to

themselves, or discussed the matter with one another. They, too, longed

for a little excitement, and when they mentioned it to their wives they

found a ready response. Thus a number of the leading citizens of Glucom

planned a trip to Ash Point Saturday evening. Of course they would not

visit the man, but merely drive by, or stop and listen to what he had to

say. It would be great fun, so they imagined.

It was Lawyer Rackshaw, however, who saw most in the advertisement.

Here was a chance to get more than even with the man he hated. He was

so elated that he invited Hen Whittles into his office Friday night,

upon the special promise that there would be no more rats present. They

drank, played cards, and discussed Abner Andrews.

"That man is crazy," Hen declared.

"Not crazy, but a fool," was the emphatic reply. "Only a fool would do

what he has done, and to cap it all, to put such an ad. as that in the

paper! But it's just what I need. My, it gives me a fine opening to

get even with him."

"In what way?" Hen asked.

Rackshaw smiled as he threw down an ace, and then helped himself to

another drink.

"Oh, I've a plan," he at length replied. "I'll fix that old fool this

time, all right. He'll get patients he's not looking for."

"But do you think people will go to be treated?" Hen asked.

"Go? Sure, they'll go. Why, it's the talk of the town, as you must

know."

"But, will sick people go?"

"Sure. I've been talking to several already, and they're so sick they

can hardly get along. Ho, ho!" and Rackshaw leaned back in his chair

and laughed heartily.

"Where's the joke?" Hen was becoming impatient now. "You seem to have

something funny up your sleeve."

"I have. Listen."

"By Jove!" Hen exclaimed, when Rackshaw had explained his purpose.

"That's a good one, all right. You're a wonder, for sure. I'd never

have thought of that. Ha, ha, the old cuss will get more'n he bargains

for if I'm not mistaken. But you must be careful though. Remember the

rats."

"There'll be no come-back this time, mind you," was the decided reply.

"I hold the trump cards in this game, so don't worry."

Zeb read the scathing editorial in the paper and smiled. He showed it

to Abner and asked him what he thought of it.

"It's jist what I wanted," was the enthusiastic reply. "Jist what ye

wanted!" Zeb exclaimed. "How de ye make that out?"

"Don't ye know? Haven't ye enough sense left to see wot that article

will do? Why, it'll bring a hull crowd here Saturday night quicker'n

anythin' else."

"H'm, so that's the way ye look at it, eh? But don't be too sure,

Abner."

"Never ye mind about that, Zeb. I wish I was as sartin of goin' to

heaven as I am of that gang comin'."

"Got ye'r tub all ready?" Zeb bantered. "An' what about ye'r

laffin'-gas? Ye mustn't fergit that."

"An' 'ye'r brains,' why don't ye say? Yes, every dang thing's in shape,

even me old shot-gun."

"De ye expect to have to use that?"

"One kin never tell. This dodge of mine is somethin' out of the

ordinary, an' the crowd might git a bit unruly. It's jist as well to be

on the safe side."

"Seems to me, Abner, the safest side fer you to-morrow night will be the

other side of sun-down. I wish to goodness ye hadn't started this

thing."

"Keep ye'r shirt on, Zeb, an' don't worry. But, there, I must git home

an' see how me laffin'-gas is comin' along."

Saturday evening was bright and warm. Not a breath of wind was astir,

and the river was like one huge mirror. But the people who came to Ash

Point from Glucom were not thinking of such things. They were more

concerned about seeing Abner Andrews and his method of healing than all

the beautiful things of Nature. Had they been with Moses when he was

tending the sheep, they would have been much more interested in watching

two rams fighting than in studying the burning bush and heeding its

divine message.

Abner was in the workshop, and Zeb was out on the road as director of

ceremonies, or "office-boy" as Abner termed him, when the vanguard

arrived. There were waggons and autos which went slowly by and then

returned later. The occupants craned their necks in their efforts to

see something out of the ordinary. Several made enquiries of Zeb, and

when the latter pointed to the workshop, they laughed and went on their

way.

This looked at first as if all intended to do the same, and Zeb chuckled

as he thought of Abner's disappointment, and the fig of tobacco he would

have to hand over.

At length, however, an auto, containing four young men and women, sped

up the road and stopped near Zeb.

"Where is the specialist?" the driver laughingly enquired.

"Eight over there," and Zeb pointed to the workshop. "Go in that door."

"Queer office, that," was the reply. "A new stunt, eh?"

There was much laughing and joking as they moved away, and Zeb watched

them with keen interest.

Abner was waiting to receive his patients, and had with much difficulty

twisted his long legs into the tub by the time the visitors were at the

door. By his side on the work-bench he had a number of ginger-beer

bottles, all tightly corked. His face was wreathed with his most

engaging smile as he motioned the young people to sit down.

"Glad to see yez," he told them, when they were at length seated upon

the chairs Zeb had brought from his house. "Now what kin I do fer yez?"

"We're very sick," the driver explained, "and seeing your ad. in the

paper, we've come to you for help."

With considerable difficulty his companions kept from laughing outright,

and this Abner noted. But he pretended to be deeply concerned, and

studied the four most critically.

"Yez sartinly do look sick," he agreed, "an' it's lucky that yez have

come this evenin'. Now, what seems to be the matter, an' where is the

trouble?"

"Eight here," and the spokesman placed his hand upon his heart in a most

solemn manner.

"H'm, heart trouble, eh? Well, that's serious. Are yez all affected

the same way?"

"Yes, all of us. We can't work or do anything, the attacks are so bad."

The young women were forced to turn away their heads at these words,

while one stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to keep from laughing

outright.

"My, my!" and Abner thoughtfully stroked his chin. "But look here,

young gal, it'll be ye'r stummick that'll be troublin' ye instid of ye'r

heart if ye swaller that handkerchief. I can't do nuthin' with that

kind of trouble."

The girl's face grew scarlet as she hurriedly withdrew her handkerchief,

while her companions laughed heartily.

"Laff all yez like," Abner encouraged. "That's part of me cure. It's

jist what yez need."

"But is that all you have to say about our real trouble?" the spokesman

demanded.

"Well, now, first of all I want the fees. Twenty-five cents fer each;

that'll make a dollar. Thank yez. That's better," he continued, as he

slipped the hill into his pocket, "I kin now prescribe fer yez. But,

remember, yez must follow the directions I give yez, or else yez'll git

a dang sight worse than yez are at present."

"Fire ahead," was the reply. "We're all willing to do as you say."

"That's good. I allus like obedient patients. Now, the first thing I

want yez to do is to go an' git two licences. Ye'll have to pay five

dollars apiece fer 'em. The Government's more expensive than I am."

The young women now became visibly embarrassed, and wished that they had

not come.

"The next thing yez must do," Abner went on, "is to go an' see some

parson. Ye'll have to pay him, too, remember. But as fer curin' heart

trouble any parson kin do it quicker'n anything yez ever saw. I had it

afore I married Tildy, an' a bad attack it was. But after old Parson

Shaw had hitched us together with that double an' twisted knot of his,

I've never had a touch of heart trouble since. It sartinly did work

wonders with me."

The consternation upon the faces of the patients was most amusing to

Abner. He liked the way the girls blushed, and the young men turned red

to the roots of their hair. He knew that they were merely out for fun

and were getting more than they had expected.

"Don't go yit," he ordered, as he saw the young women move toward the

door. "I haven't given yez the full prescription."

"But suppose the parson doesn't cure our heart trouble, what then?" the

second young man at length found courage to ask. "It might not work on

everyone as it did on you."

"Don't ye worry about that, young man," Abner replied. "The symptoms

may hang on fer a while, but as soon as ye git several extra mouths to

feed, ye'll find that all trouble will pass away. It did in my case, I

know, an' I guess it'll be so with you."

By this time the girls were at the door, blushing more furiously than

ever. They were far from enjoying the interview, and longed to be

outside. The young men were about to follow, when Abner hailed them.

"Say, ye've fergot somethin'. I've given yez the prescriptions, but I'd

like fer yez to take somethin' with yez to use when yez set up

house-keepin'." Here he reached up and lifted a bottle from off the

work-bench. "Now this is the greatest stuff out," he explained. "Jist

keep it handy in the pantry or on the kitchen shelf where ye'll know

where to find it in a jiffy. On wash days or when things go crooked

jist open this an' take a little whiff, an' it'll make yez all good

natured in no time. If the baby gits cranky or gits wind on its little

stummick, all yez need do is to give it a smell of that bottle, an'

ye'll be surprised to see how soon it'll begin to---- But, good

gracious! What's wrong with them gals? They've gone, blamed if they

ain't!"

They had all gone except the young man who had last spoken. He was

angry, and expressed his opinion in no mild language. The young women

had been insulted, so he said, and he called upon Abner to apologize.

"Apologize, eh?" was the reply. "What is there to apologize about? Yez

came here in order to make fun of me, an' because I handed out wot was

coinin' to yez I'm expected to apologize! Not on ye'r life, young man,

an' ye kin jist tell them things to the one who sent yez."

"How do you know that anyone sent us?" the young man evasively queried.

"H'm, I'm not altogether a fool. I've a little brains left yit. Come

now, on y'er word of honor, didn't Lawyer Rackshaw put yez up to this

job?"

Abner smiled as the young man made no reply. He was certain now that

his surmise had been correct, and he was satisfied.

"That'll do. Ye may go. Ye needn't answer if ye don't want to. But

remember the prescriptions, an' also yours truly, Abner Andrews, of Ash

Pint."

The young man looked as if he would like to do more than express his

feelings in words. But Abner seemed exceptionally big just then, as he

lifted himself out of the tub and stood before him. He decided that

retreat was the better part of valor, so in no enviable frame of mind he

joined his companions who were waiting for him in the car. In a few

seconds they were hurrying down the road, a defeated and angry quartet.

They had not gone far, however, when they met a truck filled with a

number of reckless young men. They stopped, and in a few words aired

their grievances. Shouts of laughter and cheers came from the

new-comers.

"Well fix the old fellow," they shouted, as they hurried on. "Leave him

to us."

Abner saw them coming, and hearing the noise they were making, knew what

to expect. Peering through the little window facing the road, he

watched them as they approached. Then in an instant a regular

bombardment of balls of mud, rotten eggs, and stones were hurled at the

building. One stone crashed through the window and struck Abner a

glancing blow above the eye. With yells of delight the crowd passed and

then all was still.

Abner's blood was now up. Seizing his shot-gun, he stood just within

the door and waited. He saw Zeb coming toward him, and called to him to

keep back.

"Let me handle the bunch," he shouted. "I'll fix 'em."

"Be careful," was the reply. "Don't shoot. Here they come agin."

As the car was almost opposite the workshop, and the youths were about

to make another bombardment, Abner stepped quickly out of the building

and ordered them to stop. As the driver hesitated for an instant, Abner

threw his gun into position and threatened to shoot if he did not obey.

This had the desired effect, and soon the car was motionless.

The occupants were speechless, and their faces betrayed their complete

consternation at this sudden turn of affairs. They dropped the eggs,

mud, and stones they had ready to hurl, and stared at the man with the

gun.

"Why don't yez go ahead?" Abner asked. "Now's ye'r chance. Tired of

ye'r fun, eh? Well, then, jist hop out an' run that Tin-Lizzie into the

yard here. Git a hustle on," he ordered, as the youths hesitated.

Seeing that Abner meant business, the joy-riders scrambled out and stood

in the road while the car was run into the yard.

"There, that's better," was Abner's comment, when this had been

accomplished. "Now, yez kin hustle."

"But what about the car?" the driver asked, as he alighted. "It doesn't

belong to us. We hired it."

"Yez did, eh? Well, then, it's safer here than with sich reckless kids.

Scoot along now. I'll keep the car fer damages rendered to that

buildin' an' to my dignity."

"Damages!" the driver exclaimed. "Why, we were only having a little

fun."

"Is that so? Fun, was it? Well, ye'r fun'll cost ye jist five dollars

apiece, an' not a cent less. I'm a specialist, ye see, on all kinds of

diseases. You fellers are troubled with swelled heads an' want of

brains, so five dollars out of y'er inside pockets will be the best cure

that I kin recommend."

By this time the joy-riders were very angry, and their language was far

from Scriptural. They vowed that they wouldn't pay a cent, and that

they would have Abner arrested for threatening to shoot them.

"Go ahead," Abner announced. "But before yez git ye'r Tin-Lizzie ye'll

fork out that money. I'll give yez jist five minutes to make up ye'r

minds. Come here, Zeb," he called. "I might want ye."

The young men were now in a fix, and they discussed the matter in an

excited manner.

"We haven't the money," they at length announced.

"All right, then, me hearties, I'll keep the car."

"Will you take two dollars apiece?" Abner was asked.

"It's five or nuthin'," was the reply. "Hustle up there, fer time's

most up."

Finding that their captor was relentless, with many protests and

threatening words the needed forty dollars were at length produced and

handed forth.

"There, that's better," Abner chuckled, as he pocketed the money.

"There's ye'r car, so take it an' git."

Abner and Zeb stood and watched the crestfallen joyriders as they

scrambled on board.

"Don't fer git to send in ye'r bill to ye'r lawyer," Abner called out,

as the visitors sped away. He then turned to his companion.

"Where's that plug of T. & B, Zeb?" he asked. "I'm dyin' fer a smoke.

Me nerves are pretty shaky.

"I don't believe ye have sich things as nerves," Zeb replied, as he

pulled a fig of tobacco from his pocket. "How in the name of all

creation kin ye do sich things??

"Brains, gall, an' luck, that's how, with a little laffin'-gas thrown

in. Ho, ho! But, say, there's Tildy an the gals!"

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*A SERMON WITH A PUNCH*

"We are going to church in town to-night," Mrs. Andrews announced the

next day when dinner was over. She and Abner were alone, for Jess and

Belle were out for a ramble with the boys.

"That's good," Abner replied, as he filled his pipe. "I'll look after

the kids."

"But you're goin', too, Abner."

"Me!"

"Yes, you. If anyone needs to go to church it is you after what you did

yesterday. The burden of your many sins must be pretty heavy by this

time. I am thoroughly ashamed of you. What in the world possessed you

to do such a thing?"

"Brains, gall, an' luck, as I've informed ye before."

"I don't see what they had to do with it. You have the gall all right,

and luck helped you out. But you might have used your brains to a far

better advantage. You were never like any man I ever knew, and you're

getting worse all the time."

"Tildy, I'm not like other men." Abner blew out a match and looked

thoughtfully at his wife. "I couldn't be like other men if I tried.

The Lord didn't build me that way. I guess He got so tired making so

many men alike, who all do an' say the right things, that when He came

to me He gave a different twist to my make-up. He was experimentin' on

Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."

"H'm, if He did, then I don't believe He's ever tried it again."

"Mebbe not, Tildy. But He might do worse. Now look here, I'm different

from most men, I acknowledge. But in what way? I'll tell ye, if ye

don't know. I'm not afraid to speak me mind when necessary, an' fight

like the divil aginst a bunch of grafters, an' git more'n even with 'em

if I kin. I enjoy a bit of fun now an' then."

"Queer fun you like, it seems to me," his wife retorted.

"Mebbe so. But fun with no punch in it is no fun at all to my way of

thinkin'."

"To hurt the feelings of others; that's the kind of fun you like."

"Don't be so sure of that. I have never hurt a fly in fun, remember,

an' hope I never shall. But when it comes to Rackshaw, Ikey Dimock, an'

a bunch sich as came from Glucom yesterday, then I'm willin' to see 'em

squirm under me fun. Them's my religious convictions, though mebbe they

don't altogether jibe with wot ye hear at church."

"Indeed they don't," was the emphatic reply. "And that's the reason why

you must go to church to-night. There's a new man at St. Felix, and I

understand he is a wonder. He is not afraid to speak his mind, and he

always talks about present-day affairs. The church is crowded to the

doors every Sunday night, so I have heard."

"Say, Tildy, I wonder if they have made up their minds in that church

yit who is to say the 'Amen'? They were in a great way about it the

last time I was there, nigh three years ago."

"What do you mean, Abner?"

"Oh, don't ye remember? When the parson got through with his prayin'

the choir kicked up a terrible fuss as to who was to say 'Amen.' One

young woman, with a big feather in her hat, lifted up her voice an' said

it all right to my way of thinkin'. But no sir-ree, that didn't suit a

feller behind her, so he growled out another 'Amen.' An'

jimmy-crickets! no sooner was he done than two more said it, each in a

different way. Then they started it all together, an' sich a time as

they had over it! It was 'Amen! A-men! A-A-men!!! A-A-A-Amen!!!, an'

last of all a big 'Amen' that nearly took the roof off the buildin'. I

don't know to this day who won out, but I imagine there was some high

talkin' an' hair-pullin' when church was over."

"Why, don't you know that they were singing?" Mrs. Andrews asked. "They

were not fighting over it. I thought it was most beautiful, and so did

others."

"So I've heard ye say, Tildy. But, my, it sounded funny to me, an' it

didn't seem altogether becomin' to scramble sich as they did fer that

word in a sacred buildin'. I ain't been back there since."

"And nowhere else," was the retort. "You're worse than a heathen, Abner

Andrews, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You must go to-night,

though, and then perhaps you'll get the habit."

Abner sighed and blew forth several great clouds of smoke.

"My, that's great terbaccer I got from Zeb yesterday," he remarked.

"Don't know what I'd a done if I hadn't won that bet."

"I wish you'd stop betting, Abner. Mr. Parker, that new minister at St.

Felix, preached a great sermon on the subject recently, so Julia Tomkins

told me."

"He did, eh? What did he say?"

"I don't know all, but he laid it down pretty plain that it was a

fearful sin, and that money raised that way was dishonest. It was

'tainted,' so he said, and he would have nothing to do with it."

"Is that what he said? Well, that's interestin'. I wonder if he knows

that quite a bunch of his flock, Ikey Dimock, Hen Whittles, an' sich

like, put tainted money into the plate every Sunday? I bet ye'r life he

doesn't turn a cent down. I'd like to see that new parson. Guess I'll

go to church. He might hand out something spicy to-night, an' I'd like

to see how the 'holy ones' of his flock take it. But who'll look after

the kids, Tildy, if I go?"

"I've arranged with Mrs. Zeb to look after them," was the reply, "She

and Zeb like the boys, and it will be a change for them to have children

around the house for an afternoon."

"We'll have to start early, Tildy. Jerry ain't as spry as he used to

be. He's not been to town fer a day or two, an' he's pinin' fer the

yell of an en-gine."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Abner, that Mr. Royden is to take us in his

car. We are to go to the hotel for supper. Belle has invited us, and

she is determined that we shall all go."

"She has, eh? Well, that's nice of her. I was afraid when ye mentioned

supper at the hotel that I'd have to foot the bill. Belle's some gal,

she sure is. Yes, I guess I'll go. But, my, I do hate to dress up in

all me finery. This style bizness gits on me nerves."

Abner enjoyed himself that evening at the hotel, and when dinner was

over he and Royden went into the smoking-room.

"This is sartinly comfort," he remarked as he settled himself back in

one of the big chairs. "There's some class to us, eh? Might think we

had some soft government job, or were politicians, fer that matter."

"You are happier as you are, Mr. Andrews," Royden replied, as he touched

a match to his cigar. "Politicians seem to me to be the men we should

least envy."

"Ye don't tell! Why, I thought they had a cinch."

"You're mistaken, then, so far as I have seen. A politician is very

uncertain of his position; he has all sorts and conditions of people to

meet and keep in good humor, and has to make promises which he knows he

can never fulfil. He is subjected to all kinds of criticisms, no matter

what he does, for his opponents are watching him with jealous and

envious eyes. Politics is a great game when rightly played, but sad to

say it has degenerated into mud-throwing and a wild scramble for money

and position."

"That's what it is to-day, young man," Abner replied. "There's nuthin'

noble about it in this province, let me tell ye that. The politicians I

know are like so many hawks flyin' here an' there, seekin' to grab all

they kin find. Look at them heelers who are tryin' to git my gravel

hill. But I gave 'em somethin' they won't fergit in a hurry."

"You must be always on your guard, Mr. Andrews," Royden warned. "If

they can't get you one way they will try other means. They have the

pull, you see. Election day is near, and they can't afford to lose much

time."

"Let 'em pull all they want to. I guess I kin pull, too, when it comes

to that. Say, that's a fine smoke," and Abner looked at the cigar he

had just taken from between his teeth. "It's as good as Rackshaw's. De

ye smoke this kind often?"

"Very rarely. These are special ones for to-night. We must celebrate a

little on an event like this."

The men thus talked and smoked until it was time to go to church. Abner

was inclined to remain where he was, but Mrs. Andrews would not listen

to him.

"You've come to town to go to church, and going you are," she declared.

"I've got you this far, and you shall not go back now."

"But I feel sleepy, Tildy, an' would like to have a nap," Abner pleaded.

"Well, sleep in church, then, providing you don't snore."

"Jist the thing," and Abner rose with alacrity. "I've often said the

best part of goin' to church is the fine sleep one kin git durin' the

sermon."

When they reached the church they were surprised to find the building

almost full, and only with difficulty were they able to obtain a place

where they all could sit together. Before the service began every seat

was taken, and people were standing in the aisles.

"Guess there must be somethin' hot on to-night, Tildy," Abner whispered.

"I never saw sich a crowd at church before. Ye'd think this was a

movin'-picture house."

Abner paid little attention to the first part of the service. It was

all somewhat unintelligible to him, and he found the prayers and hymns

very long. He was interested, however, in observing the people in the

church, especially the familiar forms of Isaac Dimock and Henry

Whittles, who were sitting well up in front. But this diversion soon

lost its charm, and he longed to be back at Ash Point talking with Zeb

Burns. He wondered how long it would be before the sermon, and if that

did not interest him he could go to sleep. Tildy would keep him from

snoring, he had no doubt about that.

Abner watched the clergyman as he went into the pulpit, and he wondered

what there was about him which attracted such large congregations. He

was somewhat enlightened when the text, "I have played the fool," was

announced. He was wide awake now and did not feel one bit sleepy. He

wanted to know what the speaker would make out of those words. He had

not long to wait, for soon the minister was telling about King Saul,

destined for such noble things and yet acting in such a selfish and

ridiculous way that he was forced to utter the words, "I have played the

fool."

The speaker applied the lesson to present-day affairs, and asked if

there were not many people who were playing the fool like that king of

old. They were endowed with various talents, and yet they were either

making wrong use of them, or wasting them in senseless ways.

"I come now," he at length said, "to the main question up to which my

words have been leading. We call ourselves Christian men and women, and

we are so self-satisfied that we cannot see how little we are really

doing, nor how far we are from Him whom we call Master. There are

things in our very community which should make us blush for shame. One

of these is the criminal neglect of the destitute children. What has

been done for them? An effort was made a short time ago to erect a Home

for needy orphans. But what has become of the plans? Nothing. We have

played the fool, and in the meantime the destitute ones have been

suffering."

The speaker paused for a few seconds, and looked around. Everyone was

almost breathless, waiting to hear his next word, Abner, too, was keenly

alert. He was glad that he had come, for he was greatly interested.

Here was a man, so he thought, who knew what he was talking about, and

was not afraid to express his views.

"During the last few days," the speaker continued, "this town has been

much stirred over the peculiar antics of a man living about five miles

from here. He has been doing peculiar things of late, and it is the

general opinion that the man is a fool or crazy. I have heard people

laughing and talking about him, and wondering what idiotic thing he

would do next."

Abner's eyes now were fairly starting out of his head, and he leaned

forward so as not to miss the slightest word. "What in the world is the

man drivin' at?" he asked himself.

"But while most of you have been joking about that farmer at Ash Point,

and considering him a fool," the speaker went on, "I have been studying

the other side of the question. I have learned that he bears a good

name along the river, and although he is impetuous at times, and is not

afraid to speak his mind like a man should, yet he is highly respected

and minds his own business when he is let alone. He was arrested a

short time ago, and placed in jail. And why? For thrashing a man who

wrote a libellous article in _The Live Wire_ about his wife. I would

have done the same myself, as would any man, unless he were an arrant

coward. You have been calling that man a miscreant and a fool, but let

me tell you what he has done. He offered a thousand dollars toward the

building of a Home for orphan children. But he has not paid it, some

might say. No, certainly not, and for a very good reason. He had sense

enough not to put that money into a dump-heap, where it was proposed to

build the Home, when there are excellent sites right in this town. His

one idea was to do something for helpless children, and not to help a

man sell a piece of ground which was absolutely useless for anything

else except a dump."

Abner almost emitted a chuckle, as he turned and looked at Henry

Whittles, whose face was very red, and who was writhing under the

minister's scathing words. Others were looking at him, too, for all knew

that he was the man referred to by the clergyman.

"But what has that man you call a fool done?" the speaker asked. "If

you do not know, let me tell you. When he found that the people of this

town were playing the fool, and doing nothing toward the erection of an

Orphan Home, he took into his own house five destitute children, all

boys. He and his family are caring for them, and are doing all in their

power for those little ones. The children are decently clothed, well

fed and happy. And all that from people who have very little of this

world's goods, depending entirely upon a poor gravel farm for their

living. Let me now ask who have played the fool: that farmer and his

family, or the people of this town?"

It was quite evident that his message was stirring the entire

congregation, and there was considerable whispering here and there.

This was noted by the minister, and he knew that his words were having

their desired effect. But he had more to say, and continued:

"You were all much interested this last week in that farmer's peculiar

advertisement in the paper, which brought forth such a scathing

editorial. A number of people, I believe, went to Ash Point yesterday

to have fun at Mr. Andrews' expense. But they came back wiser than they

went, having learned a very useful and salutary lesson, which, I trust,

they will not soon forget. Now, was that advertisement the work of a

fool or of a madman? I believe not. If I understand rightly, Mr.

Andrews took that method of testing the people of this town. They would

take but little interest in the welfare of helpless children, and would

not even go to see how they were getting along. But they would travel

miles to see a man perform in a wash-tub and say funny things. That is

my conclusion, and I feel that I am right. Mr. Andrews is far from

being a fool, even though he follows the method of Diogenes, that famous

actor and wit of olden days."

Again he paused and looked quizzically around.

"I see you are getting restless," he resumed, "and I know that some of

you have made up your minds never to come to this church again, and if

possible to starve me out. You may go ahead and say and do what you

like. Starve me if you wish, but I appeal to you in my Master's name

not to let His little ones starve or go homeless. Take the burden off

the shoulders of that worthy farmer at Ash Point. Provide a place for

those children and others like them in this very town. A big building

is not necessary just now. A house large enough can surely be secured

for them at a reasonable expense, and I have every reason to believe

that the Government will give some assistance, and if so the matter

should be easily arranged. But there should be no delay. I hope the

people of this town will get together at once. We have been playing the

fool in the past; let us now see that we do it no longer."

When the sermon was ended, Abner slipped quietly out of the church. He

did not wish to meet the people when the service was over. He wanted to

be alone that he might think about all that he had heard. He made his

way back to the hotel, and sat down in the smoking-room. It was there

that Jess found him some time later, smoking and gazing thoughtfully out

of the window. There was no one else in the room.

"You didn't go to sleep after all, did you, daddy?" she accosted, while

her face beamed with joy.

Abner slowly took the pipe from his mouth, and looked at his daughter.

There was a peculiar expression upon his face and a mistiness in his

eyes.

"No, Jess, I didn't go to sleep," he drawled. "But I guess them kids at

home'll be sleepy if we don't hustle back. An' say, I fergot to tell

Zeb to feed Jerry, blamed if I didn't."

*CHAPTER XXVIII*

*THE HOLD-UP*

There was great discussion over the sermon preached at St. Felix Sunday

night. Several people were very angry at the outspoken words, among

whom was Henry Whittles. He made haste to see Lawyer Rackshaw, and

poured out to him his troubles, and how he had been grossly insulted.

"It serves you right," was the unsympathetic reply he received. "If you

will insist upon going to church you must not complain at what is handed

out to you. I've cut loose from all such superstitious and sentimental

gush, and I advise you to do the same."

"I intend to do so while that idiot is there," Whittles declared. "And

to think that Abner Andrews was at church, too."

"He was!" and the lawyer looked his astonishment.

"Yes; and his family as well. Miss Rivers, the Attorney General's

daughter, was with them, too, so I believe. Abner will have something

to chuckle over now, all right."

"Let him chuckle, Hen. He won't do it long. Just wait till that trial

comes off."

"When is that?"

"Pretty soon now. He'll chuckle on the other side of his face."

"But Parker upheld Abner in what he did. He said that any man who was

not a coward would have done the same if Joe Preston had written such an

article about his wife. In fact, he confessed that he would have done

so himself if he had been in Abner's place."

"He said that, did he?"

"He certainly did, and if I'm not much mistaken his words will have a

strong influence. It will be necessary for you to be on your guard."

Rackshaw made no reply, but sat and gazed thoughtfully out of the office

window. In truth he sat there for some time after Whittles had left,

and he seemed in no hurry to go on with his business.

_The Live Wire_ made a great deal of the sermon, and scored Mr. Parker

for going beyond bounds. It was the duty of a clergyman to preach the

Gospel, so the paper piously announced, and to leave civic matters

alone. It also hinted that a clergyman was very short-sighted who

antagonized members of his flock, who were liberal supporters of his

church. Mr. Parker had done this, and accordingly must expect to put up

with the results. The real vital matter of a suitable Home for orphans

was not mentioned, and no credit was given the Andrews for what they had

done. This oversight was noted by many readers and severely criticized.

In fact, the editorial did a great deal for Abner, far more than the

writer imagined. It made thinking people realize how partisan and

narrow it really was, and that the welfare of the community was not its

main object.

This was brought out, too, in the accounts it gave of the coming

election. The men it advocated were known to be unscrupulous grafters,

who had carried on wholesale robbery for several years in connection

with various government deals. A long description was given of a great

political picnic, which was to be held that afternoon in the Parish of

Granton on the opposite side of the river from Ash Point. The members

of the county would be present, and there would also be several noted

speakers. All were urged to attend, and to hear the "truth, and nothing

but the truth."

Zeb Burns read these articles to Abner as they sat after dinner under

the shade of a big maple tree near the workshop.

"Seems to me that paper's tryin' to knife that parson as well as me,"

Abner remarked, as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"An' I guess it'll meet with about as much success," Zeb replied. "I

wish I'd heard that sermon last night, Abner. It must have been a

corker."

"It sure was, an' I never thought once of goin' to sleep. But ye should

have seen Hen Whittles' face an' ears. Why, they was as red as the

reddest beet I ever saw. Say, there goes the _Bluebird_, and he

motioned to a steamer out upon the river. Wonder why she's up so early

to-day."

"Fer the picnic, of course," Zeb explained. "She's black with people.

They've come fer the peanuts, kill-at-first-taste cigars, lemonade, an'

hot air. There's to be some great speeches over there this afternoon.

How'd ye like to run across in ye'r yacht, Abner? Ye haven't had her

out fer a long time."

"That's true. I've been too busy ashore. But I wouldn't go to that

picnic fer a good deal. I don't want me morals spiled. All the

gas-bags in the province couldn't change me, 'specially them fellers who

are to speak this afternoon."

"They'll be after ye to vote fer 'em, though."

"Not on ye'r life. They think I'm luney an' too hard to talk to. Ho,

ho, wasn't it funny the way they looked when they learned that we wasn't

deaf after all?"

"Mebbe they'll hear about that sermon, an' they might change their

minds."

"Sure, sure, ye kin never tell what people'll do. It's made a great

difference at my house, anyway."

"It has? In what way?"

"Oh, I can't jist explain. But Tildy isn't nigh so cranky, an' Jess

looks very happy. It may be that young feller who comes to see her,

though I don't believe that's the full reason. They was all mighty sot

up the way that parson stood up fer me last night."

"But how did he know so much about ye, Abner?"

"Blamed if I know. That's been puzzlin' me a great deal. Where he got

all that information, an' had my mind turned inside out is more 'n I kin

understand. Why, I never spoke to that feller in my life an' he seems

to know me like a book."

Scarcely had Abner finished speaking when an auto swung up the road at a

fast clip. It was about to pass when the chauffeur suddenly pulled up

in front of the big maple. There were three men in the car besides the

driver, and they were the very ones who had come to buy the gravel hill.

They seemed to be in a great hurry.

"Good-day, gentlemen," the spokesman, Thomas Dillman, accosted. "Can

you tell us what time the steamer from the city arrives here?"

"She's already arrived," Abner replied.

"Arrived! But she's not due here for half an hour yet."

"Can't help that. She's arrived an' gone. That's her smoke 'way up

there," and Abner pointed up the river.

Exclamations of consternation burst from the three men at this

information, followed by strong denunciatory language.

"What in the devil is the meaning of all this? Dillman demanded, looking

fiercely at Abner, as if he were the cause of the trouble.

"Search me," was the reply. "Ye'll have to go an find out fer

ye'rselves. I'm not runnin' the steamer nor the picnic."

"But we must be at that picnic," the man insisted. "It is absolutely

necessary for us to be there. We are to speak, and the people will be

expecting us. Confound that steamer! I shall certainly make it hot for

the company. It has a government subsidy, too, and to think that we

should be treated this way!

"That ain't nuthin' new," Abner explained. "We're more'n used to sich

capers. That boat never knows her own mind. She comes an' goes any old

time, an' doesn't mind one dang bit how people are put out. I'm mighty

glad yez have got a good dose to-day."

"You are!" Dillman indignantly retorted. "You're a nice one. But this

is not getting us over the river. How in blazes are we to get there?

That's the important thing just now. Isn't there a boat we can hire?"

"S'pose you run 'em over, Abner," Zeb suggested.

"Have you a boat?" Dillman eagerly asked.

"Sure, three of 'em. Now, there's the canoe, the flat-bottomed boat,

an'----"

"Oh, never mind telling us about them," Dillman impatiently interrupted.

"Get us there; that's all we want. We'll make it worth your while."

Abner knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose slowly to his feet.

"Jist wait a minute till I git me oars," he told them. "I guess I kin

take yez."

There was a peculiar light shining in his eyes as he hurried into the

house and returned a few minutes later. No one noticed that he had

donned his coat, and that it was buttoned about him in a strange manner.

Room was made for him in the car, and, telling the chauffeur where to

go, in a few minutes they were at the shore on the upper side of the

point. A short distance away the _Scud_ was tugging at her anchor, for

a stiff breeze was blowing in from the west. The tender was pulled up

on the shore.

"Hop in," Abner ordered, "an' set still, all of yez."

It took them but a few minutes to board the _Scud_ and get under way. A

rude craft was this yacht which Abner had made with his own hands. She

was small and her cock-pit was barely large enough to hold the three

men. Here they crowded together and looked ruefully around. They were

not accustomed to the water, and when the wind had filled her sail and

the yacht began to careen to one side, they almost wished that they had

never come. For a while the _Scud_ glided steadily along, being

somewhat sheltered by the point. But when once beyond this the full

force of the breeze caught the boat, and the spray began to dash aboard.

The three passengers clutched hard at the sides of the cock-pit, and

looked anxiously around.

"Is this blooming thing safe?" one of the men gasped, when a larger

spray than usual flung itself over them.

"Sometimes she is an' sometimes she isn't," was the laconic reply. "Kin

yez swim?"

The three men shook their heads.

"That's too bad."

"Why, what do you mean?" Dillman asked. "Do you think she'll upset?"

"Can't say," Abner drawled. "Ye never jist know what queer kinks the

_Scud'll_ take. Only last month she played one of her funny pranks, an'

upsot right near here with a wind no harder'n this."

"She did!" and the men's faces became suddenly white. "What did you

do?" one of them anxiously enquired.

"Oh, jist climbed on her bottom until she drifted ashore. That ain't

nuthin' fer me. I'm used to the water, an' could swim all day if I had

to."

The man made no reply, but clutched the sides harder than ever as the

waves increased.

"Yes," Abner continued, "this is a bad place when the tide's runnin'

down an' the wind's blowin' up. Two men were drowned right out here a

few years ago. They was in a bigger sailin' boat than this when a sudden

squall struck her, an' she flopped right over. They couldn't swim, ye

see. That's a bad piece of water ahead where ye see them white-caps. I

have me doubts about gittin' through."

"Don't go through," the men begged. "For God's sake go back! We've had

enough of this."

A gleam of triumph now shone in Abner's eyes. He gave the tiller a

vigorous twist and brought the _Scud_ full head to the wind.

"So yez don't want to go through, eh?" he queried.

"No, no. Go back."

"Well, I don't have to go through them white-caps, so what's ye'r terms

if I go round 'em?"

"Terms! What do you mean?" Dillman gasped.

"Guess you fellers should know, all right. I want a settlement fer me

gravel hill. That's what I mean, an' I intend to have it now."

The men understood most clearly the purport of these words, and their

hearts became hot with anger. They realized the helplessness of their

position, and how they were at the mercy of this man.

"You're a villain!" Dillman roared. "Do you think it's fair to get us

into a tight corner and then hold us up like this?"

"De ye like it?" Abner asked with a chuckle. "How does it feel? Ye

know now, don't ye? Ye'r tryin' to do the same with me, an' ye'r jist

waitin' the first chance to steal me place. But, by jiminy, ye'll not

do it as soon as ye think, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if ye will.

I've got yez here, an' here I'll keep yez till ye come to me terms."

"Good gracious, man!" Dillman exploded, "we can't do anything here.

Wait until we get ashore and we'll talk this matter over with you."

"Not by a long chalk. Jist write out that ye'll give me fifteen

thousand dollars fer that place, an' I'll land yez at the picnic grounds

in no time. But yez better hurry up, fer the _Scud's_ drifting fast

toward them white-caps. Guess, though, I kin hold her nose up stiddy

ferninst the wind a few minutes longer."

Dillman looked at the rough water, and then at the imperious commander.

"If this boat overturns," he at length remarked, "you'll go down, too,

for you can't surely swim in a place like this."

Abner laughed, and threw open his coat.

"Look," he cried. "I've got a life-belt on. I never come here on a

windy day without it."

The three men were now completely stumped and they looked imploringly

around. But no help was in sight. A short distance away the water was

raging where the wind and the tide were contending with each other.

"Hurry up," Abner ordered, "the _Scud'll_ soon take them white-caps full

astern, an' then good-bye."

Dillman's hand clawed at a note-book and fountain-pen in his vest

pocket. He hesitated, however, and looked at his companions.

"Go ahead, Tom," they advised, "there's nothing else to do."

But Tom delayed, leaned over and whispered something to his comrades in

distress. Abner could not hear what was said, though he noticed that

they nodded their heads in approval.

"Say, we'll offer you five thousand," Dillman at once announced.

"Fifteen thousand or nuthin'," was the peremptory order. "You

government fellers think nuthin' of throwin' that much around, an' a

darned sight more, when it suits yez. I might as well have what's due

me. Hurry up. Ye've got no time to waste."

With trembling hand Dillman put his pen to the paper, and rapidly wrote.

"How will that do?" he presently asked, handing the paper to Abner.

"Read it," was the order. "Me eyes are not good, an' it's all I kin do

to handle the boat."

"'On behalf of the local government,'" Dillman read, "'we agree to give

Abner Andrews fifteen thousand dollars for his place at Ash Point.'"

"That's good," was Abner's comment. "Now, sign it, the three of yez."

This was soon done, and in a few seconds the paper was placed in Abner's

hand. The three men anxiously watched to see whether their captor would

look at it, and they breathed more freely when he thrust it at once into

his pocket without even a glance in its direction.

Abner at once threw over the tiller and the _Scud_ swung around. Her

sail filled, and she darted forward as if glad of her release. The wind

had now increased, but the yacht, running dead before it, bore herself

bravely. On and on they sped until at length the big picnic tent near

the shore could be seen showing white amid its setting of verdant grass

and waving trees. Ere long they could discern people moving about, and

as they drew near the shore they could see that it was lined with people

who had hurried down to watch the superior movements of the little

craft, reeling onward, at times half smothered by the leaping waves.

With his passengers landed, Abner at once headed for home. He wondered

why the politicians were so affable and had bidden him such a cheery

good-bye. They did not seem one bit angry, and he saw them laughing and

talking with one another as he sped away.

"Let 'em laff," he mused, "I've got the paper," and he thrust his hand

into his pocket to be sure it was safe. "They can't fool Abner Andrews,

of Ash Pint, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if they kin."

*CHAPTER XXIX*

*COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE*

It was a great story Abner had to tell that night at supper. The boys,

who always ate early, were playing out in the yard, and the sound of

their laughter drifted in through the open window. Abner told nothing

about what he had demanded of the three men, but merely of the fright he

had given them.

"Ye should've seen their faces," he chuckled. "They thought fer sure

that I was goin' to swamp 'em in them white-caps. My, how they begged

me to go back!"

"It was a shameful thing to do," Mrs. Andrews declared. "They will never

forgive you, and they are government members at that."

But Belle did not consider it in that light. She was highly amused, and

her eyes danced with merriment.

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Andrews," she said. "It will take more than that

before those men get all that's coming to them. I know who they are

from Mr. Andrews' description, for daddy has often told me about them.

They have been a great worry to him for years, and I can imagine how he

will laugh when I tell him how they were frightened. Daddy doesn't

approve of such schemes, for I have often heard him say so."

A new feeling pervaded the house since Sunday night. Mrs. Andrews and

Jess were more at ease after they had heard that notable sermon. They

even felt proud of Abner, and were sorry that they had wrongfully

misjudged him. They were doing their best now to make up for their past

mistake, and this Abner noted.

But notwithstanding the changed atmosphere in the home Abner was visibly

worried. The trial was but two days off, and he looked forward to it

with considerable anxiety. He confided his trouble to Zeb as the latter

was working at his bench the next afternoon.

"I'm beginnin' to feel shaky," he confessed. "I don't know nuthin'

about court proceedin's, an' that's where that cur of a Rackshaw'll have

the dead cinch on me."

"Look to ye'r special ancestors, Abner," Zeb bantered, as he paused in

the act of measuring a board. "Ye've got so many that ye ought to be

able to find a clever lawyer among 'em."

"H'm," Abner grunted, "I'm afraid they won't help me much at the trial.

They're too spiritual, ye see, an' they wouldn't make any impression

upon him. It needs somethin' like rats, fer instance, to have any

effect upon that brute."

"It's a pity ye didn't git a smart lawyer, Abner. I'd like to see

Rackshaw butt up aginst someone more'n his equal. That feller needs to

be brought down a peg, an' made to squirm a bit. But I'm afraid there's

not much chance of you doin' that."

"I know it, Zeb," Abner agreed, "an' that's what's worryin' me. It's

not of meself I'm thinking but of them dependin' on me."

This feeling of depression increased as Abner and Zeb drove into town

the next day. The latter was going to stand by his neighbor, and do

what he could to help him by his presence, if in no other way. The

morning was hot, and Jerry jogged leisurely along. The men were in no

hurry, as court did not open until ten o'clock.

For some time neither mentioned the big event of the day. Each

hesitated to express his views, for there was no brightness to the cloud

hanging dark and lowering.

"It takes good nerves to stand a trial," Abner at length declared.

"Y'bet it does," was the emphatic reply. "An' a big purse, too, let me

tell ye that. It's easy to git into trouble, but mighty hard to git

out."

"Like them rats in that wire-trap, eh? But it should make a difference

when a man has justice on his side."

"Seems to me, Abner, that justice depends upon the way ye look at it,"

Zeb replied. "Joe Preston thinks that his cause is just, an' so d'you.

But it doesn't matter what you or Joe thinks. It's how the judge an'

the jury will look at it. An' that depends upon----"

Zeb paused and looked thoughtfully at the horse.

"Upon what?" Abner anxiously enquired.

"Upon the way the case is presented. Now, you know a hull lot, Abner,

an' kin spout like a force-pump when ye're settin' with me in the

workshop. But when ye git up there in court ye'll find ye'r tongue's

tied in a double-an'-twisted knot."

"Sure, sure," Abner agreed. "I've had the feelin' before, 'specially

when I proposed to Tildy. I lost me tongue altogether that time. It

was awful."

"Well, I'm afraid it'll be awfuller when ye'r called upon to defend

ye'rself. Now, if ye had a smart lawyer to do it fer ye it 'ud make a

great difference. I s'pose ye'r family felt pretty bad when ye left

this mornin'?"

"Tildy an' Jess did, but Belle was as chipper as a sparrow. She didn't

feel one bit put out, an' gave me strict instructions to give it to

Rackshaw good an' hard."

"She doesn't understand, mebbe, what ye'r up aginst Abner. Ye see,

she's never had to hustle fer herself or fight her way in the world.

But ye'r wife an' Jess know somethin' about sich things."

"But Belle is no fool nor giddy headed butterfly let me tell ye that,"

Abner defended. "She's got a mighty long head on young shoulders, an'

if she didn't feel bad about the trial I believe it is because she has

sich confidence in me. She somehow thinks that I'm all right. She's

surely some gal, that, an' we'll miss her when she goes home."

The court room was already well filled when Abner and Zeb arrived. The

trial was of special interest, for people, knowing something of the

defendant's peculiarities, expected lively and interesting scenes.

Isaac Dimock and Henry Whittles were there. They could not afford to

lose the opportunity of seeing the defeat of their enemy, especially

when Rackshaw got after him. They were sitting together, and they smiled

and whispered as the two countrymen entered the room. The lawyer was

seated at a small table with his client by his side. He was in

excellent spirits, smiling and talking with Preston as Abner and Zeb

appeared. He was joyfully anticipating his onset upon the man who had

so grossly insulted him. He would get more than even for that

rat-affair. He looked with satisfaction upon the witnesses lined upon

the witness bench, and knew that they would give "proper" evidence.

They all had been carefully prepared, as he had seen to that. Everything

had been thoroughly arranged, and he could not detect a hitch anywhere.

He was anxious now for the judge and jury to arrive that the case might

begin. Abner sat alone on one end of the witness seat. He felt more

dejected than ever as he glanced at the witnesses who were to testify

against him. He observed the eager, triumphant expression upon

Rackshaw's face, and it angered him. He knew that he had not the

slightest chance against the forces opposed to him. It made him surly

and indifferent, and he was in a most dangerous mood by the time the

court opened.

Rackshaw began the case, and in eloquent language described every detail

of the assault. He referred to the serious bodily damage which had been

inflicted upon his client, who had been in the hospital ever since, and

was still very weak from the rough handling he had received. He spoke

for over half an hour, and closed by stating what a menace to the

community the defendant was. He was more than a fool, so he declared;

he was a vicious character, and unless stringent measures were taken

against him there was no telling what he might do in the future.

Rackshaw's words made a deep impression upon the jury and on all who

were in the room, excepting Zeb Burns and a few others. It was quite

evident what the verdict would be, for there was no one present able to

stand up against the lawyer.

Abner had followed Rackshaw's speech with the keenest attention. As

each point was emphasized, he tried to turn over in his mind what he

could say in self-defense. But he became hopelessly confused, and when

the lawyer was through he knew that it was impossible and futile to try

to make any reply. He sat there upon the bench with the eyes of all

fixed upon him. The people were now expecting considerable fun, for all

were aware of Abner's sharp tongue and marked eccentricities. To see

him and listen to his words had drawn many to the court room that

morning. But Abner was in no mood for anything of a humorous nature.

The situation was too critical, and he felt that the less said the

better it would be for him. He would let the rest do the talking and

make the next move.

For a few minutes an intense silence prevailed, all wondering what would

happen next. Rackshaw was smiling in a most tantalizing manner, and

Preston, too, was amused. The members of the jury also smiled as they

watched the pathetic figure of the farmer sitting before them. It would

be an easy task for them to arrive at a true decision, so they believed.

As the judge was about to speak, a slight commotion took place near the

door, and two men pushed their way through the crowd, and walked swiftly

up the aisle. The instant Rackshaw saw them, the triumphant expression

fled from his face, and his eyes bulged with apprehension. He grasped in

a twinkling the meaning of their presence.

"Good Lord!" he gasped, turning to Preston, "it's Rivers, the Attorney

General, and he's got Stevens with him!"

Abner saw the strangers, but they meant nothing to him. He liked the

looks of the man who was bowing to the judge and apologizing for his

tardiness, owing to the lateness of the train. He was tall and

straight, with a noble head crowned with a wealth of hair, thickly

streaked with gray. He had a strong face, a manner dignified and

imperious, and eyes which never wavered, but pierced, so his opponents

were forced to acknowledge, like lightning.

All this Abner noted, and he knew that here was a man of considerable

importance, not only by his appearance but by the deference paid him by

the judge. His presence was explained in a few minutes, and not only

Abner but the entire assembly were completely astonished.

"I have made a great effort to be here this morning," the speaker

announced. "It was only lately that I heard of this trial. Had it come

to my attention sooner I should have taken immediate steps to have the

case settled before it came into court. Even now it may not be too

late. I wish to state that I am here this morning on behalf of the

defendant, Mr. Abner Andrews, of Ash Point. I am acquainted with all

the details of the case, and shall do my best for the defendant. In

this I shall be ably assisted by Mr. Stevens, who has accompanied me.

You are all familiar, I am sure, with his reputation as a lawyer."

Abner only partly understood the meaning of these words. He was dazed

and confused. He knew that the man had come to his assistance, but who

he was and why he should defend him was beyond his comprehension.

But Rackshaw knew, and the knowledge filled him with a burning anger,

mingled with an intense fear. It was the Attorney General's daughter

who was at the bottom of all this, he was certain. She was visiting the

Andrews, and for her sake her father had taken this most unusual and

unheard-of step. He knew Rivers of old, and realized how utterly

useless it would be to oppose such a man. He feared, too, the able

lawyer who had accompanied him. The two would form opponents in any

court of which any lawyer might have just reason to dread.

Added to this was the knowledge of the influence Rivers wielded in the

Government of the province. As Attorney General his power was great,

and both Rackshaw and Preston knew that it would be to their advantage

to come to some terms of agreement as speedily as possible. They were

both in line for political favors, and it would be necessary for them to

move as cautiously as possible.

"There is something else I wish to say," Rivers continued, and he turned

his particular attention to Preston. "If the plaintiff is determined to

press this case, and is unwilling to make a settlement out of court, I

shall at once, on behalf of the defendant, bring in a charge of libel.

All here, I believe, are well acquainted with the article which recently

appeared in _The Live Wire_, of which the plaintiff is the editor. It

made a most serious and uncalled-for statement concerning the

defendant's wife, and which was the direct cause of all this trouble. I

should regret to take this step, but shall be forced to do so unless

matters are otherwise arranged."

Rackshaw and Preston were now in a difficult and most unenviable

position. They had entirely overlooked this phase of the case, and it

brought consternation into their hearts. They could easily perceive

that the people in the room were greatly excited and were watching the

next move with the keenest interest. To go forward meant no end of

difficulties with such stern opponents to face. Retreat, as Rackshaw

knew, was the better part of valor, and his only problem now was how to

retreat as gracefully as possible. He had to act, and act quickly, for

all were watching him with impatient curiosity. His triumphant,

tantalizing manner had entirely vanished, and as he rose to his feet his

body trembled, and his face became unusually pale. His statements were

broken and he stammered as he proceeded, to the great amusement of the

spectators.

"My client here is willing to discuss this matter out of court," he

announced. "His cause is just, and he has every reason to press the

case. But as the Attorney General has taken the trouble to interest

himself in this little affair, it would be most unbecoming on our part

not to comply with his request before going further. If a peaceful

settlement can be agreed upon it will perhaps be better for all

concerned."

Abner was never able to give a clear account of what happened

immediately after the court adjourned. He was conscious of a great

commotion in the room, and of the Attorney General grasping him by the

hand and asking about Belle. He also heard him say that he was coming

to Ash Point the next day, and would be there in time for tea. Just

what he said in reply Abner was not altogether sure. He stammered

something about Belle being well, and that they would all be glad to see

him. But his brain was so confused that he could not think clearly

until he was out of the building and walking along the street with Zeb

by his side. The fresh air revived him, his spirits returned, and he

emitted a hearty chuckle.

"My, I'm glad ye'r comin' to," Zeb laconically remarked. "Thought I'd

have to call fer the doctor."

"Oh, I'm all right now, Zeb," was the reply. "But, say, the air of that

room was bad. It was worse than the jail, blamed if it wasn't. I never

imagined that Rackshaw could foul up a place in sich a short time.

Guess all of his evil spirits must have been hoverin' around him pretty

lively, from all appearances."

"An' they must have been hoverin' over you, too, Abner, by the way ye

looked an' acted."

"Sure, sure. Why, I never felt so mixed up since the day old Parson

Shaw hitched up me an' Tildy. I was completely gone then, an' don't

know to this day what I said."

"Bad spirits, eh?" and Zeb's eyes twinkled.

"Bad? Ugh! Ask Tildy, Zeb. She knows where I got the stuff."

*CHAPTER XXX*

*THE HEART-TOUCH*

There was great excitement around the Andrews' home the next day. Belle

was delighted at what her father had done, and she was looking eagerly

forward to his arrival for tea. But Mrs. Andrews was not so well

pleased. She worried over the idea of entertaining the Attorney

General, and wondered what she should have for supper.

"You needn't go to any extra trouble about daddy," Belle laughingly told

her. "He might know what he's eating and he might not. He's so

absent-minded at times that I really believe he forgets that he has

eaten at all."

"But he's used to big hotels and things served up in great style," Mrs.

Andrews replied. "What will he think of our humble house and our

country ways?"

"He will like everything, I am sure, especially your cooking, Mrs.

Andrews. I have heard him say over and over again how tired he was of

hotels. He misses his own home so much. And, besides, daddy was

brought up on a farm, and he will feel perfectly at home. So you must

not worry about him one bit."

This was of some comfort to Mrs. Andrews; nevertheless, she set Belle to

work polishing the silver, and Jess to dusting the parlor and

dining-room, while she herself spent the morning in the kitchen, making

pies, doughnuts, and biscuits.

It was a most beautiful morning, and the hum of bees in the vines, and

the twitter and songs of birds were all in harmony with the joy which

reigned in the house. A great load had been lifted from all hearts over

the outcome of the trial.

"I knew that daddy would not fail to be there," Belle announced, when

Abner had told the whole story. "But it was a close call, for if we had

not gone to church on Sunday I would have known little or nothing of

what was taking place."

"An' so you was back of it all, eh?" Abner queried. "I was wonderin' how

in thunder ye'r dad knew so much about it."

"Oh, yes," Belle smiled, "I wrote to daddy at once. I knew that he would

come if I asked him. You see, he is very much interested in us all,

especially the children we have taken under our care."

"Well, he arrived jist in the nick of time," Abner replied. "I felt

like Tom Duncan said he did when he was nearly drowned out there off the

Pint a few years ago. He had given up all hope, an' was goin' down fer

the third time when he was rescued an' brought to. So that's the way I

felt when ye'r dad reached out an' saved me. My, he's some man, all

right, an' I guess his daughter's somethin' like him."

This was the nearest Abner ever came to paying a compliment, and he was

pleased at the happy flush which mounted to Belle's cheeks. He left the

house and strolled over to his neighbor's. He could well afford to take

the day off and enjoy himself to his heart's content.

Zeb was in the workshop busy at the bench. He, too, was very happy at

the outcome of the trial, and was most anxious to see his neighbor.

"My, it's good to be out of that hot kitchen!" Abner exclaimed, as he

sat down upon a box, and pulled out his pipe. "Why, it's like an oven

over there."

"Too hot fer you in more ways than one, eh?" Zeb quizzed.

"No, not a bit of it. Everybody's happy as clams at high-water. All in

great spirits. But, ye see, it's the cookin' that's goin' on fer supper

which makes it ninety in the shade. We'll have straw an' skimmed water

fer dinner, an' Tildy'll give me a talk on eteket, that is how I'm to

behave this evenin', fer dessert. But jist wait till supper time, an'

then ye'll see the things piled on that table, an' how the silver'll

shine. There's nuthin' like a visit from the Attorney General to make

women hustle. But, then, I don't mind. He did a great thing fer me

yesterday, an' I shan't soon fergit it."

"I guess ye shouldn't, Abner. If it hadn't been for him you'd be in a

mighty tight hole by this time, let me tell ye that."

"But de ye think it's ended, Zeb?"

"Sure. I'd stake me bottom dollar on that. Them fellers'll be mighty

glad to come to any terms now, since they know what they're up aginst.

When they thought that they had only you to buck they were cocky and

dead sartin of their game. But it's different now. They'll squirm, an'

git out of it the best they kin, unless I'm much mistaken."

When Abner was not with Zeb in the workshop that day, Zeb was with Abner

out under the big tree at the back of the barn. They could not work,

and they were like two boys, who had so many things to talk about, and

could not afford to be parted for any length of time. They were in such

excellent spirits that they even had one of their old-time discussions

over the Ten Lost Tribes and Ancient Ancestors. Abner's tongue was no

longer tied, and if he had talked in court as he did there under the

tree Rackshaw would have been confounded in a short time. Had a

stranger happened along, he would have imagined that these two neighbors

were angry and ready to fight. But they understood each other, and were

perfectly happy.

Abner had little to say at supper that evening. He was content to

listen to the others, especially the Attorney General, who was in great

spirits. It was a pleasant little gathering, and the table looked its

best, with fresh bright flowers in the centre. Mrs. Andrews was at

first a little flustered and excited. But this soon passed when she

found how agreeable the guest made himself. He praised her cooking, and

appeared perfectly at home.

They did not hurry through supper, for the visitor had much to say of

considerable importance. He told them that Preston and Rackshaw had

agreed to take no further action, and to let the case drop.

"And they were very glad to do so," he added, with a quiet smile. "In a

way I was sorry, for those men really deserve a severe lesson. However,

perhaps it is all for the best, and they have been taught a useful

lesson."

"Ye didn't come to me assistance any too soon," Abner replied. "I was

jist goin' down fer the last time when ye pulled me out. My, it was

good to git a breath of fresh air!"

They all laughed heartily, and Rivers turned to his daughter.

"If it hadn't been for Belle I would not have been there," he explained.

"I had a thousand and one things to do when I received her long letter.

But she has had me under her thumb for so long that I dropped everything

and meekly obeyed her summons. It takes a woman to do things, doesn't

it, Mr. Andrews?"

"Should say so," was the emphatic agreement. "I found that out the very

first thing after Tildy an' me was married."

"I guess if the women didn't do things round this house there wouldn't

be much done," Mrs. Andrews retorted.

"Judging from this supper, they certainly know their work," Rivers

complimented. "I never tasted such doughnuts in my life. I hope Belle

has taken many lessons from you, Mrs. Andrews."

"I'm afraid not, daddy," was the laughing confession. "I've been too

giddy to settle down to housework."

"Runnin' away from sich fellers as Billy Lansing, eh?" Abner bantered.

"Poor chap, I wonder if he's livin' yit, fer we haven't seen hair nor

hide of him since that island affair."

"Belle hasn't been idle, let me tell you that," Jess defended. "I never

knew her to write so many letters as she has lately."

"And not all to me, eh?" and Rivers looked quizzically at his daughter.

"Oh, you needn't blush so furiously," he added. "Mr. Parker is a

married man and an old friend of ours, so it's all right."

"What! Was ye writin' letters to that minister at St. Felix?" Abner

asked in surprise. "Ye didn't tell us ye knew him."

"Yes, ever since I was a child," Belle explained. "He was a regular

visitor at our house then, and why shouldn't I write to him?"

"Sure, sure," Abner agreed. "It was all right, Belle, so long as ye'r

letters was somewhat along the lines ye wrote to ye'r dad."

"What makes you think they were, Mr. Andrews?"

"The spirits of me ancestors tell me that you had a hand in that sermon

Mr. Parker gave us last Sunday night. Ain't I right?"

"You are," Rivers replied, as Belle hesitated. "And I am very glad that

Belle gave the information which brought forth that sermon. It roused

the best thinking people in Glucom to action, and that was partly the

reason why I remained in town last night."

"What did they do?" Abner eagerly asked.

"They got down to business, and decided to purchase a large, commodious

house as a temporary orphanage. The necessary money was raised in a

short time, and I am confident that the Government will make a liberal

grant toward the running expenses."

"Ye don't tell!" Abner was now leaning over the table, unheeding his

wife's chiding looks. "An' they won't need Hen Whittles' dump?"

"No, not at all," Rivers laughed. "He can keep his dump as long as he

likes for himself, Rackshaw and the others who were scrambling after a

rake-off in the matter. The ones who are connected with the orphanage

scheme now are men and women upon whom we can depend, and who mean

business."

"An' will they want our kids?" Abner asked.

"Not for a few weeks yet. You may have them a while longer until

matters are arranged. All I was talking to last night and to-day were

very high in their praise of what you have done for those children you

now have under your care."

"Oh, that wasn't more'n we should've done. But we kin do a deal more'n

that, can't we, Tildy?"

The latter, however, made no reply. She was listening to the voices of

the children which came through the open window. She was so thankful

that a place was to be established for them and for others, and yet she

was thinking how she would miss the little ones with their noise and

chatter. She hardly heard the conversation, and was only aroused a few

minutes later by Thane Royden arriving with his car. He had come for

Jess, and though the latter wished to stay and help with the dishes, her

mother and Belle would not hear of it.

"You might not have a chance for another drive in a long time," Belle

informed her. "Mr. Royden is going away soon, so he says."

"Git as much Social Service work in as ye kin, Jess," her father

suggested. "Ye may not have sich another nice feller to practice on fer

a long time."

When they had gone Abner and the Attorney General went out of doors.

"Suppose we walk over to that gravel hill of yours," Rivers suggested,

as he offered Abner a cigar out of his well-filled case. "I have heard

much about it, and about the efforts which have been made to buy it from

you. I congratulate you upon not selling."

"I caught them three government fellers, all right," Abner chuckled.

"Ye should've seen their faces, when I held 'em up out there on the

river."

"I heard all about it," and Rivers smiled. "And they offered you a

certain sum, did they?"

"Oh, yes," and Abner thrust his hand into his pocket. "I have it all

down in black an' white, an' their names signed to it, too. Look at

that."

Rivers took the paper, read the scrawl, and then when he came to the

names his eyes grew wide with astonishment. He glanced curiously at

Abner.

"Did you read these names?" he asked.

"Read 'em? No. Anythin' wrong with 'em?"

"They are not the names of the men I was led to believe signed this

paper."

"They're not! Whose are they, then?"

"We have no 'T. Smith,' 'J. Brown,' nor 'C. Green' in the Government.

Those are the names down here."

"Ye haven't!" Abner stopped short, and his body became tense.

"No; I know nothing about them."

"An' ye think they fooled me?"

"It looks very much like it."

"The divils!" and Abner's hands clenched together. "Jist wait till I git

hold of them fellers. I'll fix 'em. An' so that's worth nuthin'?" he

asked, pointing to the paper.

"Nothing. And I question whether it would have been of any value had

those men signed their own. names. They are bluffers, and have no

authority to bind the Government. Oh, they are schemers, all right. I

know them of old, and have had my own trouble with them."

"So the Government kin take my gravel an' give me any old price fer it,

eh?"

"I suppose so. But the Government is not going to take it."

"Not goin' to take it?"

"No. We have finally decided that the haul is too long, and we have

been able to secure plenty along the line which will do for many years

to come."

Abner's face expressed his keen disappointment. He sighed, and looked

over at the hill. His fond hopes were dashed to the ground in an

instant. So his property was once more worthless. Rivers watched him

closely and a twinkle shone in his eyes.

"You feel disappointed, I suppose?"

"I sartinly do. I was hopin' to make somethin' out of that gravel that

'ud put me on me feet. I'm gittin' along in years now, an' ain't jist

as brisk as I uster be."

"And you're willing to sell, I suppose?"

"Sell! Sure, I'll sell when the first decent chance comes along. I

wouldn't have asked so much from them grafters who came here if I hadn't

known they wanted to get the place from me fer almost nuthin', an' then

hand it over to the Government fer a big sum. That's why I held out."

"I am glad you did, Mr. Andrews, especially as I have now a new

proposition to make. A very reliable company, The Morton & Griffin,

have for some time been seeking a place to erect a big concrete plant.

I have been working for them, and they have requested me to find

suitable material for their purposes. Many beds of gravel have been

tested, but not one has the same excellent qualities as yours. It is

here in abundance, and they are greatly pleased with the samples which

have been submitted to them. This was largely due to Royden, the young

surveyor, whom you threatened to kill one day, so I believe. He has

taken a great interest in the matter, and knowing him to be most

trustworthy, I was able to vouch for his report. The company have

engaged him, and he is to receive a good salary for his services. This

will be news to you, I feel sure. I have not been free to make this

known before until the Government had finally decided not to use the

gravel for ballast."

Abner's face was a study as the Attorney General paused. The expression

was one of surprise, hope and incredulity. He could hardly believe that

he had heard aright, and he looked out over the field in an abstracted

manner. So the gravel hill was to be of value, after all, he mused.

The Government would not take it from him, and a big company wanted it.

But how much would he get for the land? Rivers noted his silence, and

divined the meaning.

"You are wondering how much the company are willing to pay, are you

not?" he smilingly asked.

"Me mind was travellin' along that line," Abner replied. "I s'pose

they'll want me to let 'em have it fer almost nuthin'?"

"Oh, no. It is a very powerful company, and quite willing to pay

liberally. In fact, the matter is left almost entirely to me. I feel

certain that the company will accept whatever recommendation I make.

The question of a few thousand dollars will make no difference so long

as the material is suitable and abundant for the company's purpose.

Just how much you will be offered I cannot state now, but I can assure

you that it will be more than you ever dreamed of getting from the

Government. It will make you independent for life. You have been a

good friend to my daughter, and for her sake I have taken a keen

interest in your welfare."

Abner was too much overcome for words. He was visibly affected, and

wished to say something to express his thanks. But words would not

come. He felt as puzzled as he did when in court. Rivers noticed his

emotion, and understood.

Abner had so many things to think about that he was willing to listen as

the Attorney General outlined the possibilities of the work which would

shortly begin, and the advantage to the community. It all seemed like a

marvelous dream, too good to be true.

It was a happy company which gathered upon the verandah that evening.

The sun had gone down, and not a breath of wind stirred the air. The

river stretched out before them like a huge mirror, only ruffled when an

occasional motor-boat chugged by. It was a scene of peace and perfect

contentment. Zeb was there, too, and Abner was satisfied to let him and

Rivers talk about the coming election. It had little interest for him

now. His great good fortune occupied his mind, and he was already

making plans for the future.

And there Jess found them an hour later. Her face was flushed, and her

eyes were beaming, telling plainly of something important. They all

noted her excitement and surmised its meaning. Jess was not a girl who

could keep such good news from those so near and dear to her. Yet she

hesitated, and glanced at the Attorney General.

"Don't mind me, my dear," he encouraged. "I was young once myself, and

I am most thankful that I am here to-night to be the first to offer my

heartiest congratulations."

Rising to his feet, he grasped her hand, and then, stooping, kissed her.

"You will forgive me, I feel sure," he apologized. "But you seem like my

own daughter, and the privilege is mine."

Then followed an attack such as Jess had never before experienced. The

women hugged and kissed her; they laughed and cried in succession, and

bombarded her with all kinds of questions. "Where was Royden?" and,

"Why didn't he come to share in the congratulations?" "Was he afraid?"

and so on. To all these Jess laughed and blushed more than ever.

"He will come when he is sure he will not be killed," she explained,

looking at her father with a smile. "If he was in danger of losing his

life when about to steal your place, he cannot tell what might happen to

him when you learn that he is going to steal your daughter."

They all laughed merrily, and Abner chuckled.

"Ye'r Social Service dope worked all right, Jess," he drawled. "Ye

didn't need to go away from Ash Pint to practice, did ye? Ye've had

that young feller to elevate, an' ye've elevated him well, as fer as I

kin see. But, then, his under-pinnin' was good, an' that made all the

difference, hey, Zeb? Not much like ye'r 'Society' pig, ho, ho,

skiddy-me-shins if it is."