GLENGARRY SCHOOLDAYS

A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS IN GLENGARRY

By Ralph Connor

CONTENTS

I. THE SPELLING-MATCH

II. THE DEEPOLE

III. THE EXAMINATION

IV. THE NEW MASTER

V. THE CRISIS

VI. "ONE THAT RULETH WELL HIS OWN HOUSE"

VII. FOXY

VIII. FOXY'S PARTNER

IX. HUGHIE'S EMANCIPATION

X. THE BEAR HUNT

XI. JOHN CRAVEN'S METHOD

XII. THE DOWNFALL

XIII. THE FIRST ROUND

XIV. THE FINAL ROUND

XV. THE RESULT

GLENGARRY SCHOOL DAYS

CHAPTER I

THE SPELLING-MATCH

The "Twentieth" school was built of logs hewn on two sides. The crackswere chinked and filled with plaster, which had a curious habit offalling out during the summer months, no one knew how; but somehow theholes always appeared on the boys' side, and being there, were found tobe most useful, for as looking out of the window was forbidden, throughthese holes the boys could catch glimpses of the outer world--glimpsesworth catching, too, for all around stood the great forest, theplayground of boys and girls during noon-hour and recesses; an enchantedland, peopled, not by fairies, elves, and other shadowy beings offancy, but with living things, squirrels, and chipmunks, and weasels, chattering ground-hogs, thumping rabbits, and stealthy foxes, notto speak of a host of flying things, from the little gray-bird thattwittered its happy nonsense all day, to the big-eyed owl that hootedsolemnly when the moon came out. A wonderful place this forest, forchildren to live in, to know, and to love, and in after days to longfor. 

It was Friday afternoon, and the long, hot July day was drawing to aweary close. Mischief was in the air, and the master, Archibald Munro, or "Archie Murro, " as the boys called him, was holding himself in witha very firm hand, the lines about his mouth showing that he was fightingback the pain which had never quite left him from the day he had twistedhis knee out of joint five years ago, in a wrestling match, and which, in his weary moments, gnawed into his vitals. He hated to lose hisgrip of himself, for then he knew he should have to grow stern andterrifying, and rule these young imps in the forms in front of him bywhat he called afterwards, in his moments of self-loathing, "sheer bruteforce, " and that he always counted a defeat. 

Munro was a born commander. His pale, intellectual face, with its squarechin and firm mouth, its noble forehead and deep-set gray eyes, carrieda look of such strength and indomitable courage that no boy, howeverbig, ever thought of anything but obedience when the word of commandcame. He was the only master who had ever been able to control, withoutat least one appeal to the trustees, the stormy tempers of the younggiants that used to come to school in the winter months. 

The school never forgot the day when big Bob Fraser "answered back" inclass. For, before the words were well out of his lips, the master, witha single stride, was in front of him, and laying two swift, stingingcuts from the rawhide over big Bob's back, commanded, "Hold out yourhand!" in a voice so terrible, and with eyes of such blazing light, thatbefore Bob was aware, he shot out his hand and stood waiting the blow. The school never, in all its history, received such a thrill as the nextfew moments brought; for while Bob stood waiting, the master's wordsfell clear-cut upon the dead silence, "No, Robert, you are too big tothrash. You are a man. No man should strike you--and I apologize. " Andthen big Bob forgot his wonted sheepishness and spoke out with a man'svoice, "I am sorry I spoke back, sir. " And then all the girls beganto cry and wipe their eyes with their aprons, while the master and Bobshook hands silently. From that day and hour Bob Fraser would have slainany one offering to make trouble for the master, and Archibald Munro'srule was firmly established. 

He was just and impartial in all his decisions, and absolute in hiscontrol; and besides, he had the rare faculty of awakening in his pupilsan enthusiasm for work inside the school and for sports outside. 

But now he was holding himself in, and with set teeth keeping back thepain. The week had been long and hot and trying, and this day had beenthe worst of all. Through the little dirty panes of the uncurtainedwindows the hot sun had poured itself in a flood of quivering light allthe long day. Only an hour remained of the day, but that hour was tothe master the hardest of all the week. The big boys were droning lazilyover their books, the little boys, in the forms just below his desk, were bubbling over with spirits--spirits of whose origin there was noreasonable ground for doubt. 

Suddenly Hughie Murray, the minister's boy, a very special imp, held uphis hand. 

"Well, Hughie, " said the master, for the tenth time within the hourreplying to the signal. 

"Spelling-match!"

The master hesitated. It would be a vast relief, but it was a littlelike shirking. On all sides, however, hands went up in support ofHughie's proposal, and having hesitated, he felt he must surrender orbecome terrifying at once. 

"Very well, " he said; "Margaret Aird and Thomas Finch will act ascaptains. " At once there was a gleeful hubbub. Slates and books wereslung into desks. 

"Order! or no spelling-match. " The alternative was awful enough to quieteven the impish Hughie, who knew the tone carried no idle threat, andwho loved a spelling-match with all the ardor of his little fightingsoul. 

The captains took their places on each side of the school, and withcareful deliberation, began the selecting of their men, scanninganxiously the rows of faces looking at the maps or out of the windowsand bravely trying to seem unconcerned. Chivalry demanded that Margaretshould have first choice. "Hughie Murray!" called out Margaret;for Hughie, though only eight years old, had preternatural gifts inspelling; his mother's training had done that for him. At four he knewevery Bible story by heart, and would tolerate no liberties with thetext; at six he could read the third reader; at eight he was the bestreader in the fifth; and to do him justice, he thought no better ofhimself for that. It was no trick to read. If he could only run, andclimb, and swim, and dive, like the big boys, then he would indeed feeluplifted; but mere spelling and reading, "Huh! that was nothing. "

"Ranald Macdonald!" called Thomas Finch, and a big, lanky boy of fifteenor sixteen rose and marched to his place. He was a boy one would look attwice. He was far from handsome. His face was long, and thin, and dark, with a straight nose, and large mouth, and high cheek-bones; but he hadfine black eyes, though they were fierce, and had a look in them thatsuggested the woods and the wild things that live there. But Ranald, though his attendance was spasmodic, and dependent upon the suitabilityor otherwise of the weather for hunting, was the best speller in theschool. 

For that reason Margaret would have chosen him, and for another whichshe would not for worlds have confessed, even to herself. And do youthink she would have called Ranald Macdonald to come and stand up besideher before all these boys? Not for the glory of winning the match andcarrying the medal for a week. But how gladly would she have given upglory and medal for the joy of it, if she had dared. 

At length the choosing was over, and the school ranged in two opposinglines, with Margaret and Thomas at the head of their respective forces, and little Jessie MacRae and Johnnie Aird, with a single big curl onthe top of his head, at the foot. It was a point of honor that no bloodshould be drawn at the first round. To Thomas, who had second choice, fell the right of giving the first word. So to little Jessie, at thefoot, he gave "Ox. "

"O-x, ox, " whispered Jessie, shyly dodging behind her neighbor. 

"In!" said Margaret to Johnnie Aird. 

"I-s, in, " said Johnnie, stoutly. 

"Right!" said the master, silencing the shout of laughter. "Next word. "

With like gentle courtesies the battle began; but in the secondround the little A, B, C's were ruthlessly swept off the field withsecond-book words, and retired to their seats in supreme exultation, amid the applause of their fellows still left in the fight. Afterthat there was no mercy. It was a give-and-take battle, the successfulspeller having the right to give the word to the opposite side. Themaster was umpire, and after his "Next!" had fallen there was no appeal. But if a mistake were made, it was the opponent's part and privilege tocorrect with all speed, lest a second attempt should succeed. 

Steadily, and amid growing excitement, the lines grew less, till therewere left on one side, Thomas, with Ranald supporting him, and on theother Margaret, with Hughie beside her, his face pale, and his dark eyesblazing with the light of battle. 

Without varying fortune the fight went on. Margaret, still serene, andwith only a touch of color in her face, gave out her words with evenvoice, and spelled her opponent's with calm deliberation. Opposite herThomas stood, stolid, slow, and wary. He had no nerves to speak of, andthe only chance of catching him lay in lulling him off to sleep. 

They were now among the deadly words. 

"Parallelopiped!" challenged Hughie to Ranald, who met it easily, givingMargaret "hyphen" in return. 

"H-y-p-h-e-n, " spelled Margaret, and then, with cunning carelessness, gave Thomas "heifer. " ("Hypher, " she called it. )

Thomas took it lightly. 

"H-e-i-p-h-e-r. "

Like lightning Hughie was upon him. "H-e-i-f-e-r. "

"F-e-r, " shouted Thomas. The two yells came almost together. 

There was a deep silence. All eyes were turned upon the master. 

"I think Hughie was first, " he said, slowly. A great sigh swept over theschool, and then a wave of applause. 

The master held up his hand. 

"But it was so very nearly a tie, that if Hughie is willing--"

"All right, sir, " cried Hughie, eager for more fight. 

But Thomas, in sullen rage, strode to his seat muttering, "I was just assoon anyway. " Every one heard and waited, looking at the master. 

"The match is over, " said the master, quietly. Great disappointmentshowed in every face. 

"There is just one thing better than winning, and that is, taking defeatlike a man. " His voice was grave, and with just a touch of sadness. Thechildren, sensitive to moods, as is the characteristic of children, feltthe touch and sat subdued and silent. 

There was no improving of the occasion, but with the same sad gravitythe school was dismissed; and the children learned that day one oflife's golden lessons--that the man who remains master of himself neverknows defeat. 

The master stood at the door watching the children go down the slope tothe road, and then take their ways north and south, till the forest hidthem from his sight. 

"Well, " he muttered, stretching up his arms and drawing a great breath, "it's over for another week. A pretty near thing, though. "

CHAPTER II

THE DEEPOLE

Archibald Munro had a steady purpose in life--to play the man, and toallow no pain of his--and pain never left him long--to spoil his work, or to bring a shadow to the life of any other. And though he had hishard times, no one who could not read the lines about his mouth everknew how hard they were. 

It was this struggle for self-mastery that made him the man he was, andtaught him the secrets of nobleness that he taught his pupils with theirthree "R's"; and this was the best of his work for the Twentieth school. 

North and south in front of the school the road ran through thedeep forest of great pines, with underbrush of balsam and spruce andsilver-birch; but from this main road ran little blazed paths that ledto the farm clearings where lay the children's homes. Here and there, set in their massive frames of dark green forest, lay the little farms, the tiny fenced fields surrounding the little log houses and barns. These were the homes of a people simple of heart and manners, butsturdy, clean living, and clear thinking, with their brittle Highlandcourage toughened to endurance by their long fight with the forest, andwith a self-respect born of victory over nature's grimmest of terrors. 

A mile straight south of the school stood the manse, which was Hughie'shome; two miles straight west Ranald lived; and Thomas Finch two milesnorth; while the other lads ought to have taken some of the littlepaths that branched east from the main road. But this evening, with oneaccord, the boys chose a path that led from the school-house clearingstraight southwest through the forest. 

What a path that was! Beaten smooth with the passing of many bare feet, it wound through the brush and round the big pines, past the haunts ofsquirrels, black, gray, and red, past fox holes and woodchuck holes, under birds' nests and bee-trees, and best of all, it brought up at lastat the Deep Hole, or "Deepole, " as the boys called it. 

There were many reasons why the boys should have gone straight home. They were expected home. There were cows to get up from the pasture andto milk, potatoes that needed hoeing, gardens to weed, not to speak ofmessages and the like. But these were also excellent reasons why theboys should unanimously choose the cool, smooth-beaten, sweet-scented, shady path that wound and twisted through the trees and brush, but ledstraight to the Deepole. Besides, this was Friday night, it was hot, and they were tired out; the mere thought of the long walk home wasintolerable. The Deepole was only two miles away, and "There was lotsof time" for anything else. So, with wild whoops, they turned into theshady path and sped through the forest, the big boys in front, withRanald easily leading, for there was no runner so swift and tireless inall the country-side, and Hughie, with the small boys, panting behind. 

On they went, a long, straggling, yelling line, down into the cedarswamp, splashing through the "Little Crick" and up again over the beechridge, where, in the open woods, the path grew indistinct and was easyto lose; then again among the great pines, where the underbrush wasso thick that you could not tell what might be just before, till theypulled up at the old Lumber Camp. The boys always paused at the ruins ofthe old Lumber Camp. A ruin is ever a place of mystery, but to the oldLumber Camp attached an awful dread, for behind it, in the thickest partof the underbrush, stood the cabin of Alan Gorrach. 

Alan's was a name of terror among all the small children of the section. Mothers hushed their crying with, "Alan Gorrach will get you. " Alan wasa small man, short in the legs, but with long, swinging, sinewy arms. He had a gypsy face, and tangled, long, black hair; and as he walkedthrough the forest he might be heard talking to himself, with wildgesticulations. He was an itinerant cooper by trade, and made for thefarmers' wives their butter-tubs and butter-ladles, mincing-bowls andcoggies, and for the men, whip-stalks, axe handles, and the like. Butin the boys' eyes he was guilty of a horrible iniquity. He wasa dog-killer. His chief business was the doing away with dogs ofill-repute in the country; vicious dogs, sheep-killing dogs, egg-suckingdogs, were committed to Alan's dread custody, and often he would be seenleading off his wretched victims to his den in the woods, whence theynever returned. It was a current report that he ate them, too. No wonderthe boys regarded him with horror mingled with fearful awe. 

In broad day, upon the high road, the small boys would boldly flingtaunts and stones at Alan, till he would pull out his long, sharpcooper's knife and make at them. But if they met him in the woods theywould walk past in trembling and respectful silence, or slip off intohiding in the bush, till he was out of sight. 

It was always part of the programme in the exploring of the LumberCamp for the big boys to steal down the path to Alan's cabin, and peerfearfully through the brush, and then come rushing back to the littleboys waiting in the clearing, and crying in terror-stricken stagewhispers, "He's coming! He's coming!" set off again through the bushlike hunted deer, followed by the panting train of youngsters, withtheir small hearts thumping hard against their ribs. 

In a few minutes the pine woods, with its old Lumber Camp and Alan'sfearsome cabin, were left behind; and then down along the flats wherethe big elms were, and the tall ash-trees, and the alders, the flying, panting line sped on in a final dash, for they could smell the river. Ina moment more they were at the Deepole. 

O! that Deepole! Where the big creek took a great sweep around beforeit tore over the rapids and down into the gorge. It was always in coolshade; the great fan-topped elm-trees hung far out over it, and thealders and the willows edged its banks. How cool and clear the darkbrown waters looked! And how beautiful the golden mottling on theirsmooth, flowing surface, where the sun rained down through theover-spreading elm boughs! And the grassy sward where the boys tore offtheir garments, and whence they raced and plunged, was so green and firmand smooth under foot! And the music of the rapids down in the gorge, and the gurgle of the water where it sucked in under the jam of deadwood before it plunged into the boiling pool farther down! Not thatthe boys made note of all these delights accessory to the joys ofthe Deepole itself, but all these helped to weave the spell that theswimming-hole cast over them. Without the spreading elms, withoutthe mottled, golden light upon the cool, deep waters, and without thedistant roar of the little rapid, and the soft gurgle at the jam, theDeepole would still have been a place of purest delight, but I doubt if, without these, it would have stolen in among their day dreams in afteryears, on hot, dusty, weary days, with power to waken in them a vaguepain and longing for the sweet, cool woods and the clear, brown waters. Oh, for one plunge! To feel the hug of the waters, their soothingcaress, their healing touch! These boys are men now, such as are on thehither side of the darker river, but not a man of them can think, on ahot summer day, of that cool, shaded, mottled Deepole, without a longingin his heart and a lump in his throat. 

The last quarter of a mile was always a dead race, for it was a point ofdistinction to be the first to plunge, and the last few seconds of therace were spent in the preliminaries of the disrobing. A single braceslipped off the shoulder, a flutter of a shirt over the head, a kickof the trousers, and whoop! plunge! "Hurrah! first in. " The little boysalways waited to admire the first series of plunges, for there were manyseries before the hour was over, and then they would off to their owncrossing, going through a similar performance on a small scale. 

What an hour it was! What contests of swimming and diving! What waterfights and mud fights! What careering of figures, stark naked, throughthe rushes and trees! What larks and pranks!

And then the little boys would dress. A simple process, but moredifficult by far than the other, for the trousers would stick to thewet feet--no boy would dream of a towel, nor dare to be guilty of sucha piece of "stuck-upness"--and the shirt would get wrong side out, orwould bundle round the neck, or would cling to the wet shoulders tillthey had to get on their knees almost to squirm into it. But that over, all was over. The brace, or if the buttons were still there, the braceswere easily jerked up on the shoulders, and there you were. Coats, boots, and stockings were superfluous, collars and ties utterlydespised. 

Then the little ones would gather on the grassy bank to watch the bigones get out, which was a process worth watching. 

"Well, I'm going out, boys, " one would say. 

"Oh, pshaw! let's have another plunge. "

"All right. But it's the last, though. "

Then a long stream of naked figures would scramble up the bank and rushfor the last place. "First out, last in, " was the rule, for the boyswould much rather jump on some one else than be jumped on themselves. After the long line of naked figures had vanished into the boilingwater, one would be seen quietly stealing out and up the bank kickinghis feet clean as he stepped off the projecting root onto the grass, when, plunk! a mud ball caught him, and back he must come. It took themfull two hours to escape clean from the water, and woe betide the boylast out. On all sides stood boys, little and big, with mud balls readyto fling, till, out of sheer pity, he would be allowed to come forthclean. Then, when all were dressed, and blue and shivering--for twoamphibious hours, even on a July day, make one blue--more games wouldbegin, leap-frog, or tag, or jumping, or climbing trees, till they werewarm enough to set out for home. 

It was as the little ones were playing tag that Hughie came to grief. He was easily king of his company and led the game. Quick as a weasel, swift and wary, he was always the last to be caught. Around the trees, and out and in among the big boys, he led the chase, much to Tom Finch'sdisgust, who had not forgotten the spelling-match incident. Not that hecared for the defeat, but he still felt the bite in the master's finalwords, and he carried a grudge against the boy who had been the occasionof his humiliation. 

"Keep off!" he cried, angrily, as Hughie swung himself round him. But Hughie paid no heed to Tom's growl, unless, indeed, to repeat hisoffense, with the result that, as he flew off, Tom caught him a kickthat hastened his flight and laid him flat on his back amid the laughterof the boys. 

"Tom, " said Hughie, gravely and slowly, so that they all stoodlistening, "do you know what you kick like?"

The boys stood waiting. 

"A h-e-i-p-h-e-r. "

In a moment Tom had him by the neck, and after a cuff or two, sent himflying, with a warning to keep to himself. 

But Hughie, with a saucy answer, was off again on his game, circling asnear Tom Finch as he dared, and being as exasperating as possible, tillTom looked as if he would like a chance to pay him off. The chancecame, for Hughie, leading the "tag, " came flying past Tom and toward thewater. Hardly realizing what he was doing, Tom stuck out his foot andcaught him flying past, and before any one knew how it had happened, poor Hughie shot far out into the Deepole, lighting fair on his stomach. There was a great shout of laughter, but in a moment every one wascalling, "Swim, Hughie!" "Keep your hands down!" "Don't splash likethat, you fool!" "Paddle underneath!" But Hughie was far too excited ortoo stunned by his fall to do anything but splash and sputter, and sink, and rise again, only to sink once more. In a few moments the affairbecame serious. 

The small boys began to cry, and some of the bigger ones to undress, when there was a cry from the elm-tree overhanging the water. 

"Run out that board, Don. Quick!"

It was Ranald, who had been swinging up in the highest branches, andhad seen what had happened, and was coming down from limb to limb likea squirrel. As he spoke, he dropped from the lowest limb into the waterclose to where Hughie was splashing wildly. 

In an instant, as he rose to the surface, Hughie's arms went round hisneck and pulled his head under water. But he was up again, and tuggingat Hughie's hands, he cried:

"Don't, Hughie! let go! I'll pull you out. Let go!" But Hughie, half-insensible with terror and with the water he had gulped in, clungwith a death-grip. 

"Hughie!" gasped Ranald, "you'll drown us both. Oh, Hughie man, let mepull you out, can't you?"

Something in the tone caught Hughie's ear, and he loosed his hold, andRanald, taking him under the chin, looked round for the board. 

By this time Don Cameron was in the water and working the board slowlytoward the gasping boys. But now a new danger threatened. The currenthad gradually carried them toward the log jam, under which the watersucked to the falls below. Once under the jam, no power on earth couldsave. 

"Hurry up, Don!" called out Ranald, anxiously. Then, feeling Hughiebeginning to clutch again, he added, cheerily, "It's all right. You'llget us. " But his face was gray and his eyes were staring, for over hisshoulder he could see the jam and he could feel the suck of the water onhis legs. 

"Oh, Ranald, you can't do it, " sobbed Hughie. "Will I paddleunderneath?"

"Yes, yes, paddle hard, Hughie, " said Ranald, for the jam was just athis back. 

But as he spoke, there was a cry, "Ranald, catch it!" Over the slipperylogs of the jam came Tom Finch pushing out a plank. 

"Catch it!" he cried, "I'll hold this end solid. " And Ranald caught andheld fast, and the boys on the bank gave a mighty shout. Soon Doncame up with his board, and Tom, catching the end, hauled it up on therolling logs. 

"Hold steady there now!" cried Tom, lying at full length upon the logs;"we'll get you in a minute. "

By this time the other boys had pulled a number of boards and planks outof the jam, and laying them across the logs, made a kind of raft uponwhich the exhausted swimmers were gradually hauled, and then broughtsafe to shore. 

"Oh, Ranald, " said Tom, almost weeping, "I didn't mean to--I neverthought--I'm awfully sorry. "

"Oh, pshaw!" said Ranald, who was taking off Hughie's shirt preparatoryto wringing it, "I know. Besides, it was you who pulled us out. You weredoing your best, Don, of course, but we would have gone under the jambut for Tom. "

For ten minutes the boys stood going over again the various incidentsin the recent dramatic scene, extolling the virtues of Ranald, Don, andThomas in turn, and imitating, with screams of laughter, Hughie's gulpsand splashings while he was fighting for his life. It was their way ofexpressing their emotions of gratitude and joy, for Hughie was dearlyloved by all, though no one would have dared to manifest such weakness. 

As they were separating, Hughie whispered to Ranald, "Come home withme, Ranald. I want you. " And Ranald, looking down into the littlewhite face, went. It would be many a day before he would get rid of thepicture of the white face, with the staring black eyes, floating on thedark brown water beside him, and that was why he went. 

When they reached the path to the manse clearing Ranald and Hughie werealone. For some minutes Hughie followed Ranald in silence on a dog-trot, through the brule, dodging round stumps and roots and climbing overfallen trees, till they came to the pasture-field. 

"Hold on, Ranald, " panted Hughie, putting on a spurt and coming up evenwith his leader. 

"Are you warm enough?" asked Ranald, looking down at the little flushedface. 

"You bet!"

"Are you dry?"

"Huh, huh. "

"Indeed, you are not too dry, " said Ranald, feeling his wet shirt andtrousers, "and your mother will be wondering. "

"I'll tell her, " said Hughie, in a tone of exulting anticipation. 

"What!" Ranald stood dead still. 

"I'll tell her, " replied Hughie. "She'll be awful glad. And she'll beawful thankful to you, Ranald. "

Ranald looked at him in amazement. 

"I think I will jist be going back now, " he said, at length. But Hughieseized him. 

"Oh, Ranald, you must come with me. "

He had pictured himself telling his mother of Ranald's exploit, andcovering his hero with glory. But this was the very thing that Ranalddreaded and hated, and was bound to prevent. 

"You will not be going to the Deepole again, I warrant you, " Ranaldsaid, with emphasis. 

"Not go to the Deepole?"

"No, indeed. Your mother will put an end to that sort of thing. "

"Mother! Why not?"

"She will not be wanting to have you drowned. "

Hughie laughed scornfully. "You don't know my mother. She's not afraidof--of anything. "

"But she will be telling your father. "

This was a matter serious enough to give Hughie pause. His father mightvery likely forbid the Deepole. 

"There is no need for telling, " suggested Ranald. "And I will just go infor a minute. "

"Will you stay for supper?"

Ranald shook his head. The manse kitchen was a bright place, and to seethe minister's wife and to hear her talk was to Ranald pure delight. Butthen, Hughie might tell, and that would be too awful to bear. 

"Do, Ranald, " pleaded Hughie. "I'll not tell. "

"I am not so sure. "

"Sure as death!"

Still Ranald hesitated. Hughie grew desperate. 

"God may kill me on the spot!" he cried, using the most binding of alloaths known to the boys. This was satisfactory, and Ranald went. 

But Hughie was not skilled in deceiving, and especially in deceiving hismother. They were great friends, and Hughie shared all his secrets withher and knew that they were safe, unless they ought to be told. And so, when he caught sight of his mother waiting for him before the door, heleft Ranald, and thrilling with the memory of the awful peril throughwhich he had passed, rushed at her, and crying, "Oh, mother!" he flunghimself into her arms. "I am so glad to see you again!"

"Why, Hughie, my boy, what's the matter?" said his mother, holding herarms tight about him. "And you are all wet! What is it?" But Hughie heldher fast, struggling with himself. 

"What is it?" she asked again, turning to Ranald. 

"We were running pretty fast--and it is a hot day--and--" But the cleargray-brown eyes were upon him, and Ranald found it difficult to go on. 

"Oh, mother, you mustn't ask, " cried Hughie; "I promised not to tell. "

"Not to tell me, Hughie?" The surprise in the voice was quite too muchfor Hughie. 

"Oh, mother, we did not want to frighten you--and--I promised. "

"Then you must keep your promise. Come away in, my boy. Come in, Ranald. "

It was her boy's first secret from her. Ranald saw the look of pain inthe sweet face, and could not endure it. 

"It was just nothing, Mrs. Murray, " he began. 

"Did you promise, too, Ranald?"

"No, that I did not. And there is nothing much to tell, only Hughie fellinto the Deepole and the boys pulled him out!"

"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Hughie, "it was Ranald. He jumped right downfrom the tree right into the water, and kept me up. You told yourself, Ranald, " he continued, delighted to be relieved of his promise; and onhe went to give his mother, in his most picturesque style, a descriptionof the whole scene, while Ranald stood looking miserable and ashamed. 

"And Ranald was ashamed for me to tell you, and besides, he said youwouldn't let me go to the Deepole again. But you will, won't you mother?And you won't tell father, will you?"

The mother stood listening, with face growing whiter and whiter, tillhe was done. Then she stooped down over the eager face for some moments, whispering, "My darling, my darling, " and then coming to Ranald sheheld her hand on his shoulder for a moment, while she said, in a voicebravely struggling to be calm, "God reward you, Ranald. God grant my boymay always have so good and brave a friend when he needs. "

And from that day Ranald's life was different, for he had bound tohim by a tie that nothing could ever break, a friend whose influencefollowed him, and steadied and lifted him up to greatness, long afterthe grave had hidden her from men's sight. 

CHAPTER III

THE EXAMINATION

The two years of Archibald Munro's regime were the golden age of theschool, and for a whole generation "The Section" regarded that period asthe standard for comparison in the following years. Munro had a geniusfor making his pupils work. They threw themselves with enthusiasm intoall they undertook--studies, debate nights, games, and in everything themaster was the source of inspiration. 

And now his last examination day had come, and the whole Sectionwas stirred with enthusiasm for their master, and with grief at hisdeparture. 

The day before examination was spent in "cleaning the school. " Thissemi-annual event, which always preceded the examination, was almost asenjoyable as the examination day itself, if indeed it was not moreso. The school met in the morning for a final polish for the morrow'srecitations. Then after a speech by the master the little ones weredismissed and allowed to go home though they never by any chance tookadvantage of this permission. Then the master and the bigger boys andgirls set to work to prepare the school for the great day. The boys weretold off in sections, some to get dry cedar boughs from the swamp forthe big fire outside, over which the iron sugar-kettle was swung to heatthe scrubbing water; others off into the woods for balsam-trees for theevergreen decorations; others to draw water and wait upon the scrubbers. 

It was a day of delightful excitement, but this year there was below theexcitement a deep, warm feeling of love and sadness, as both teacherand pupils thought of to-morrow. There was an additional thrill to theexcitement, that the master was to be presented with a gold watch andchain, and that this had been kept a dead secret from him. 

What a day it was! With wild whoops the boys went off for the dry cedarand the evergreens, while the girls, looking very housewifely withskirts tucked back and sleeves rolled up, began to sweep and otherwiseprepare the room for scrubbing. 

The gathering of the evergreens was a delightful labor. High up in thebalsam-trees the more daring boys would climb, and then, holding bythe swaying top, would swing themselves far out from the trunk and comecrashing through the limbs into the deep, soft snow, bringing half thetree with them. What larks they had! What chasing of rabbits along theirbeaten runways! What fierce and happy snow fights! And then, the triumphof their return, laden with their evergreen trophies, to find the bigfire blazing under the great iron kettle and the water boiling, and thegirls well on with the scrubbing. 

Then, while the girls scrubbed first the benches and desks, and last ofall, the floors, the boys washed the windows and put up the evergreendecorations. Every corner had its pillar of green, every window had itsframe of green, the old blackboard, the occasion of many a heartache tothe unmathematical, was wreathed into loveliness; the maps, with theirbewildering boundaries, rivers and mountains, capes, bays and islands, became for once worlds of beauty under the magic touch of the greenery. On the wall just over his desk, the master wrought out in evergreen anarching "WELCOME, " but later on, the big girls, with some shy blushing, boldly tacked up underneath an answering "FAREWELL. " By the time theshort afternoon had faded into the early evening, the school stood, to the eyes of all familiar with the common sordidness of its everydaydress, a picture of artistic loveliness. And after the master's littlespeech of thanks for their good work that afternoon, and for all theirgoodness to him, the boys and girls went their ways with that strangelyunnameable heart-emptiness that brings an ache to the throat, butsomehow makes happier for the ache. 

The examination day was the great school event of the year. It was thesocial function of the Section as well. Toward this event all the schoollife moved, and its approach was attended by a deepening excitement, shared by children and parents alike, which made a kind of holidayfeeling in the air. 

The school opened an hour later than ordinarily, and the children cameall in their Sunday clothes, the boys feeling stiff and uncomfortable, and regarding each other with looks half shy and half contemptuous, realizing that they were unnatural in each other's sight; the girlswith hair in marvelous frizzes and shiny ringlets, with new ribbons, andwhite aprons over their home-made winsey dresses, carried their unwontedgrandeur with an ease and delight that made the boys secretly envy butapparently despise them. The one unpardonable crime with all the boysin that country was that of being "proud. " The boy convicted of "showeenoff, " was utterly contemned by his fellows. Hence, any delight in newclothes or in a finer appearance than usual was carefully avoided. 

Ranald always hated new clothes. He felt them an intolerable burden. Hedid not mind his new homespun, home-made flannel check shirt of mixedred and white, but the heavy fulled-cloth suit made by his Aunt Kirstyfelt like a suit of mail. He moved heavily in it and felt queer, andknew that he looked as he felt. The result was that he was in no genialmood, and was on the alert for any indication of levity at his expense. 

Hughie, on the contrary, like the girls, delighted in new clothes. His new black suit, made down from one of his father's, with infiniteplanning and pains by his mother, and finished only at twelve o'clockthe night before, gave him unmixed pleasure. And handsome he looked init. All the little girls proclaimed that in their shy, admiring glances, while the big girls teased and petted and threatened to kiss him. Ofcourse the boys all scorned him and his finery, and tried to "take himdown, " but Hughie was so unfeignedly pleased with himself, and moved soeasily and naturally in his grand attire, and was so cheery and frankand happy, that no one thought of calling him "proud. "

Soon after ten the sleighloads began to arrive. It was a mild winterday, when the snow packed well, and there fluttered down through thestill air a few lazy flakes, large, soft, and feathery, like bits of theclouds floating white against the blue sky. The sleighs were driven upto the door with a great flourish and jingle of bells, and while themaster welcomed the ladies, the fathers and big brothers drove thehorses to the shelter of the thick-standing pines, and unhitching them, tied them to the sleigh-boxes, where, blanketed and fed, they remainedfor the day. 

Within an hour the little school-house was packed, the children crowdedtight into the long desks, and the visitors on the benches along thewalls and in the seats of the big boys and girls. On the platform weresuch of the trustees as could muster up the necessary courage--old PeterMacRae, who had been a dominie in the Old Country, the young ministerand his wife, and the schoolteacher from the "Sixteenth. "

First came the wee tots, who, in wide-eyed, serious innocence, wentthrough their letters and their "ox" and "cat" combinations andpermutations with great gusto and distinction. Then they were dismissedto their seats by a series of mental arithmetic questions, sumsof varying difficulty being propounded, until little white-haired, blue-eyed Johnnie Aird, with the single big curl on the top of his head, was left alone. 

"One and one, Johnnie?" said the master, smiling down at the rosy face. 

"Three, " promptly replied Johnnie, and retired to his seat amid thedelighted applause of visitors and pupils, and followed by the proud, fond, albeit almost tearful, gaze of his mother. He was her baby, bornlong after her other babies had grown up into sturdy youth, and all thedearer for that. 

Then up through the Readers, till the Fifth was reached, the examinationprogressed, each class being handed over to the charge of a visitor, whoforthwith went upon examination as truly as did the class. 

"Fifth class!" In due order the class marched up to the chalk line onthe floor in front of the master's desk, and stood waiting. 

The reading lesson was Fitz-Greene Halleck's "Marco Bozzaris, " aselection of considerable dramatic power, and calling for a somewhatspirited rendering. The master would not have chosen this lesson, but hehad laid down the rule that there was to be no special drilling of thepupils for an exhibition, but that the school should be seen doing itsevery-day work; and in the reading, the lessons for the previous daywere to be those of the examination day. By an evil fortune, the readingfor the day was the dramatic "Marco Bozzaris. " The master shiveredinwardly as he thought of the possibility of Thomas Finch, with hisstolidly monotonous voice, being called upon to read the thrilling linesrecording the panic-stricken death-cry of the Turk: "To arms! They come!The Greek! The Greek!" But Thomas, by careful plodding, had climbed tofourth place, and the danger lay in the third verse. 

"Will you take this class, Mr. MacRae?" said the master, handing him thebook. He knew that the dominie was not interested in the art of readingbeyond the point of correct pronunciation, and hence he hoped the classmight get off easily. The dominie took the book reluctantly. What hedesired was the "arith-MET-ic" class, and did not care to be "put off"with mere reading. 

"Well, Ranald, let us hear you, " he rather growled. Ranald went at hiswork with quiet confidence; he knew all the words. 

"Page 187, Marco Bozzaris. 

"At midnight in his guarded tent, The Turk lay dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. "

And so on steadily to the end of his verse. 

"Next!"

The next was "Betsy Dan, " the daughter of Dan Campbell, of "The Island. "Now, Betsy Dan was very red in hair and face, very shy and very nervous, and always on the point of giggles. It was a trial to her to read onordinary days, but to-day it was almost more than she could bear. Tomake matters worse, sitting immediately behind her, and sheltered fromthe eye of the master, sat Jimmie Cameron, Don's youngest brother. Jimmie was always on the alert for mischief, and ever ready to go offinto fits of laughter, which he managed to check only by grabbing tighthold of his nose. Just now he was busy pulling at the strings of BetsyDan's apron with one hand, while with the other he was hanging onto hisnose, and swaying in paroxysms of laughter. 

Very red in the face, Betsy Dan began her verse. 

"At midnight in the forest shades, Bozzaris--"

Pause, while Betsy Dan clutched behind her. 

"--Bozzaris ranged--"

("Tchik! tchik!") a snicker from Jimmie in the rear. 

"--his Suliote band, True as the steel of--"

("im-im, ") Betsy Dan struggles with her giggles. 

"Elizabeth!" The master's voice is stern and sharp. 

Betsy Dan bridles up, while Jimmie is momentarily sobered by themaster's tone. 

"True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persians thousands stood--"

("Tchik! tchik! tchik, ") a long snicker from Jimmie, whose nose cannotbe kept quite in control. It is becoming too much for poor Betsy Dan, whose lips begin to twitch. 

"There--"

("im-im, thit-tit-tit, ") Betsy Dan is making mighty efforts to hold inher giggles. 

"--had the glad earth (tchik!) drunk their blood, On old Pl-a-a-t-t-e-a-'s day. "

Whack! whack!

"Elizabeth Campbell!" The master's tone was quite terrible. 

"I don't care! He won't leave me alone. He's just--just (sob)pu--pulling at me (sob) all the time. "

By this time Betsy's apron was up to her eyes, and her sobs were quitetempestuous. 

"James, stand up!" Jimmie slowly rose, red with laughter, and coveredwith confusion. 

"I-I-I di-dn't touch her!" he protested. 

"O--h!" said little Aleck Sinclair, who had been enjoying Jimmie's prankhugely; "he was--"

"That'll do, Aleck, I didn't ask you. James is quite able to tell mehimself. Now, James!"

"I-I-I was only just doing that, " said Jimmie, sober enough now, andterrified at the results of his mischief. 

"Doing what?" said the master, repressing a smile at Jimmie's woebegoneface. 

"Just-just that!" and Jimmie touched gingerly with the point of hisfinger the bows of Betsy Dan's apron-strings. 

"Oh, I see. You were annoying Elizabeth while she was reading. No wondershe found it difficult. Now, do you think that was very nice?"

Jimmie twisted himself into a semicircle. 

"N-o-o. "

"Come here, James!" Jimmie looked frightened, came round the class, andup to the master. 

"Now, then, " continued the master, facing Jimmie round in front of BetsyDan, who was still using her apron upon her eyes, "tell Elizabeth youare sorry. "

Jimmie stood in an agony of silent awkwardness, curving himself invarying directions. 

"Are you sorry?"

"Y-e-e-s. "

"Well, tell her so. "

Jimmie drew a long breath and braced himself for the ordeal. He stood amoment or two, working his eyes up shyly from Betsy Dan's shoes toher face, caught her glancing at him from behind her apron, and began, "I-I-I'm (tchik! tchik) sor-ry, " (tchik). Betsy Dan's look was too muchfor the little chap's gravity. 

A roar swept over the school-house. Even the grim dominie's facerelaxed. 

"Go to your seat and behave yourself, " said the master, giving Jimmie aslight cuff. "Now, Margaret, let us go on. "

Margaret's was the difficult verse. But to Margaret's quiet voice andgentle heart, anything like shriek or battle-cry was foreign enough, sowith even tone, and unmodulated by any shade of passion, she read thecry, "To arms! They come! The Greek! The Greek!" Nor was her voice tobe moved from its gentle, monotonous flow even by the battle-cry ofBozzaris, "Strike! till the last armed foe expires!"

"Next, " said the dominie, glad to get on with his task. 

The master breathed freely, when, alas for his hopes, the minister spokeup. 

"But, Margaret, do you think Bozzaris cheered his men in so gentle avoice as that?"

Margaret smiled sweetly, but remained silent, glad to get over theverse. 

"Wouldn't you like to try it again?" suggested the minister. 

Margaret flushed up at once. 

"Oh, no, " said his wife, who had noticed Margaret's flushing face. "Girls are not supposed to be soldiers, are they, Margaret?"

Margaret flashed a grateful look at her. 

"That's a boy's verse. "

"Ay! that it is, " said the old dominie; "and I would wish very much thatMrs. Murray would conduct this class. "

But the minister's wife would not hear of it, protesting that thedominie could do it much better. The old man, however, insisted, sayingthat he had no great liking for this part of the examination, andwould wish to reserve himself, with the master's permission, for the"arith-MET-ic" class. 

Mrs. Murray, seeing that it would please the dominie, took the book, with a spot of color coming in her delicate, high-bred face. 

"You must all do your best now, to help me, " she said, with a smile thatbrought an answering smile flashing along the line. Even Thomas Finchallowed his stolid face a gleam of intelligent sympathy, which, however, he immediately suppressed, for he remembered that the next turn washis, and that he must be getting himself into the appearance of doggeddesperation which he considered suitable to a reading exercise. 

"Now, Thomas, " said the minister's wife, sweetly, and Thomas plungedheavily. 

"They fought like brave men, long--"

"Oh, Thomas, I think we will try that man's verse again, with the criesof battle in it, you know. I am sure you can do that well. "

It was all the same to Thomas. There were no words he could not spell, and he saw no reason why he should not do that verse as well asany other. So, with an extra knitting of his eyebrows, he set forthdoggedly. 

"An-hour-passed-on-the-Turk-awoke-that-bright-dream-was-his-last. "

Thomas's voice fell with the unvarying regularity of the beat of atrip-hammer. 

"He-woke-to-hear-his-sentries-shriek-to-arms-they-come-the-Greekthe-Greek-he-woke--"

"But, Thomas, wait a minute. You see you must speak these words, 'Toarms! They come!' differently from the others. These words were shriekedby the sentries, and you must show that in your reading. "

"Speak them out, man, " said the minister, sharply, and a littlenervously, fearing that his wife had undertaken too great a task, andhating to see her defeated. 

"Now, Thomas, " said Mrs. Murray, "try again. And remember the sentriesshrieked these words, 'To arms!' and so on. "

Thomas squared his shoulders, spread his feet apart, added a wrinkleto his frown, and a deeper note of desperation to his tone, and beganagain. 

"An-hour-passed-on-the-Turk-awoke-that-bright-dream-was--"

The master shuddered. 

"Now, Thomas, excuse me. That's better, but we can improve that yet. "Mrs. Murray was not to be beaten. The attention of the whole school, even to Jimmie Cameron, as well as that of the visitors, was nowconcentrated upon the event. 

"See, " she went on, "each phrase by itself. 'An hour passed on: the Turkawoke. ' Now, try that far. "

Again Thomas tried, this time with complete success. The visitorsapplauded. 

"Ah, that's it, Thomas. I was sure you could do it. "

Thomas relaxed a little, but not unduly. He was not sure what was yetbefore him. 

"Now we will get that 'sentries shriek. ' See, Thomas, like this alittle, " and she read the words with fine expression. 

"You must put more pith, more force, into those words, Thomas. Speakout, man!" interjected the minister, who was wishing it was all over. 

"Now, Thomas, I think this will be the last time. You have done verywell, but I feel sure you can do better. "

The minister's wife looked at Thomas as she said this, with sofascinating a smile that the frown on Thomas' face deepened into ahideous scowl, and he planted himself with a do-or-die expression inevery angle of his solid frame. Realizing the extreme necessity of themoment, he pitched his voice several tones higher than ever before inhis life inside a house and before people, and made his final attempt. 

"An-hour-passed-on: the-Turk-awoke: That-bright-dream-WAS-his-last. "

And now, feeling that the crisis was upon him, and confusing speedwith intensity, and sound with passion, he rushed his words, withever-increasing speed, into a wild yell. 

"He-woke-to-hear-his-sentries-shriek-to-arms-theycome-the-Greek-THE-GREEK!"

There was a moment of startled stillness, then, "tchik! tchik!" It wasJimmie again, holding his nose and swaying in a vain effort to control aparoxysm of snickers at Thomas' unusual outburst. 

It was like a match to powder. Again the whole school burst into aroar of uncontrollable laughter. Even the minister, the master, and thedominie, could not resist. The only faces unmoved were those of ThomasFinch and the minister's wife. He had tried his best, and it was toplease her, and she knew it. 

A swift, shamed glance round, and his eyes rested on her face. Thatface was sweet and grave as she leaned toward him, and said, "Thank you, Thomas. That was well done. " And Thomas, still looking at her, flushedto his hair roots and down the back of his neck, while the scowl on hisforehead faded into a frown, and then into smoothness. 

"And if you always try your best like that, Thomas, you will be a greatand good man some day. "

Her voice was low and soft, as if intended for him alone, but in thesudden silence that followed the laughter it thrilled to every heart inthe room, and Thomas was surprised to find himself trying to swallow alump in his throat, and to keep his eyes from blinking; and in his face, stolid and heavy, a new expression was struggling for utterance. "Here, take me, " it said; "all that I have is thine, " and later days broughtthe opportunity to prove it. 

The rest of the reading lesson passed without incident. Indeed, therepervaded the whole school that feeling of reaction which always succeedsan emotional climax. The master decided to omit the geography andgrammar classes, which should have immediately followed, and have dinnerat once, and so allow both children and visitors time to recover tonefor the spelling and arithmetic of the afternoon. 

The dinner was an elaborate and appalling variety of pies and cakes, served by the big girls and their sisters, who had recently leftschool, and who consequently bore themselves with all proper dignity andimportance. Two of the boys passed round a pail of water and a tin cup, that all the thirsty might drink. From hand to hand, and from lip tolip the cup passed, with a fine contempt of microbes. The only pointof etiquette insisted upon was that no "leavings" should be allowed toremain in the cup or thrown back into the pail, but should be carefullyflung upon the floor. 

There had been examination feasts in pre-historic days in the Twentiethschool, when the boys indulged in free fights at long range, using asmissiles remnants of pie crust and cake, whose consistency rendered themdeadly enough to "bloody" a nose or black an eye. But these barbaricencounters ceased with Archie Munro's advent, and now the boys vied witheach other in "minding their manners. " Not only was there no snatchingof food or exhibition of greediness, but there was a severe repressionof any apparent eagerness for the tempting dainties, lest it should besuspected that such were unusual at home. Even the little boys felt thatit would be bad manners to take a second piece of cake or pie unlessspecially pressed; but their eager, bulging eyes revealed only tooplainly their heart's desire, and the kindly waiters knew their dutysufficiently to urge a second, third, and fourth supply of the toothsomecurrant or berry pie, the solid fruit cake, or the oily doughnut, tillthe point was reached where desire failed. 

"Have some more, Jimmie. Have a doughnut, " said the master, who had beenadmiring Jimmie's gastronomic achievements. 

"He's had ten a'ready, " shouted little Aleck Sinclair, Jimmie's specialconfidant. 

Jimmie smiled in conscious pride, but remained silent. 

"What! eaten ten doughnuts?" asked the master, feigning alarm. 

"He's got four in his pocket, too, " said Aleck, in triumph. 

"He's got a pie in his own pocket, " retorted Jimmie, driven toretaliate. 

"A pie!" exclaimed the master. "Better take it out. A pocket's not thebest place for a pie. Why don't you eat it, Aleck?"

"I can't, " lamented Aleck. "I'm full up. "

"He said he's nearly busted, " said Jimmie, anxiously. "He's got apain here, " pointing to his left eye. The bigger boys and some of thevisitors who had gathered round shouted with laughter. 

"Oh, pshaw, Aleck!" said the master, encouragingly, "that's all right. As long as the pain is as high up as your eye you'll recover. I tell youwhat, put your pie down on the desk here, Jimmie will take care of it, and run down to the gate and tell Don I want him. "

Aleck, with great care and considerable difficulty, extracted from hispocket a segment of black currant pie, hopelessly battered, but stillintact. He regarded it fondly for a moment or two, and then, with a verydubious look at Jimmie, ran away on his errand for the master. 

It took him some little time to find Don, and meanwhile the master'sattention was drawn away by his duty to the visitors. The pie left toJimmie's care had an unfortunately tempting fringe of loose pieces aboutit that marred its symmetry. Jimmie proceeded to trim it into shape. Soabsorbed did he become in this trimming process, that before he realizedwhat he was about, he woke suddenly to the startling fact that the piehad shrunk into a comparatively insignificant size. It would be worsethan useless to save the mutilated remains for Aleck; there was nothingfor it now but to get the reproachful remnant out of the way. He wasso busily occupied with this praiseworthy proceeding that he failed tonotice Aleck enter the room, flushed with his race, eager and once moreempty. 

Arriving at his seat, he came upon Jimmie engaged in devouring the pieleft in his charge. With a cry of dismay and rage he flung himself uponthe little gourmand, and after a short struggle, secured the preciouspie; but alas, bereft of its most delicious part--it was picked cleanof its currants. For a moment he gazed, grief-stricken, at the leathery, viscous remnant in his hand. Then, with a wrathful exclamation, "Here, then, you can just take it then, you big pig, you!" He seized Jimmie bythe neck, and jammed the sticky pie crust on his face, where it stucklike an adhesive plaster. Jimmie, taken by surprise, and renderednerveless by the pangs of an accusing conscience, made no resistance, but set up a howl that attracted the attention of the master and thewhole company. 

"Why, Jimmie!" exclaimed the master, removing the doughy mixture fromthe little lad's face, "what on earth are you trying to do? What iswrong, Aleck?"

"He ate my pie, " said Aleck, defiantly. 

"Ate it? Well, apparently not. But never mind, Aleck, we shall get youanother pie. "

"There isn't any more, " said Aleck, mournfully; "that was the lastpiece. "

"Oh, well, we shall find something else just as good, " said the master, going off after one of the big girls; and returning with a doughnutand a peculiarly deadly looking piece of fruit cake, he succeeded incomforting the disappointed and still indignant Aleck. 

The afternoon was given to the more serious part of the schoolwork--writing, arithmetic, and spelling, while, for those whoseambitions extended beyond the limits of the public school, the masterhad begun a Euclid class, which was at once his despair and hispride. In the Twentieth school of that date there was no waste of thechildren's time in foolish and fantastic branches of study, in showyexercises and accomplishments, whose display was at once ruinous tothe nerves of the visitors, and to the self-respect and modesty ofthe children. The ideal of the school was to fit the children for thestruggle into which their lives would thrust them, so that the boy whocould spell and read and cipher was supposed to be ready for his lifework. Those whose ambition led them into the subtleties of Euclid'sproblems and theorems were supposed to be in preparation for somewhathigher spheres of life. 

Through the various classes of arithmetic the examination proceeded, thelittle ones struggling with great seriousness through their additionand subtraction sums, and being wrought up to the highest pitch ofexcitement by their contest for the first place. By the time the fifthclass was reached, the air was heavy with the feeling of battle. Indeed, it was amazing to note how the master had succeeded in arousing in thewhole school an intense spirit of emulation. From little Johnnie Aird upto Thomas Finch, the pupils carried the hearts of soldiers. 

Through fractions, the "Rule of Three, " percentages, and stocks, thesenior class swept with a trail of glory. In vain old Peter MacRaestrewed their path with his favorite posers. The brilliant achievementsof the class seemed to sink him deeper and deeper into the gloom ofdiscontent, while the master, the minister and his wife, as well asthe visitors, could not conceal their delight. As a last resort the olddominie sought to stem their victorious career with his famous problemin Practice, and to his huge enjoyment, one after another of the classhad to acknowledge defeat. The truth was, the master had passed lightlyover this rule in the arithmetic, considering the solution of problemsby the method of Practice as a little antiquated, and hardly worthy ofmuch study. The failure of the class, however, brought the dominie hishour of triumph, and so complete had been the success of the examinationthat the master was abundantly willing that he should enjoy it. 

Then followed the judging of the copy-books. The best and cleanest bookin each class was given the proud distinction of a testimonial writtenupon the first blank page, with the date of the examination and thesignatures of the examiners attached. It was afterwards borne home intriumph by the happy owner, to be stored among the family archives, and perhaps among the sacred things that mothers keep in their holy ofholies. 

After the copy-books had been duly appraised, there followed an hourin which the excitement of the day reached its highest mark. The wholeschool, with such of the visitors as could be persuaded to join, wereranged in opposing ranks in the deadly conflict of a spelling-match. Themaster, the teacher from the Sixteenth, and even the minister's wife, yielded to the tremendous pressure of public demand that they shouldenter the fray. The contest had a most dramatic finish, and it was feltthat the extreme possibility of enthusiasm and excitement was reachedwhen the minister's wife spelled down the teacher from the Sixteenth, who every one knew, was the champion speller of all the country that laytoward the Front, and had a special private armory of deadly missileslaid up against just such a conflict as this. The tumultuous triumphof the children was not to be controlled. Again and again they followedHughie in wild yells, not only because his mother was a great favoritewith them all, but because she had wrested a victory from the championof the Front, for the Front, in all matters pertaining to culture andfashion, thought itself quite superior to the more backwoods country ofthe Twentieth. 

It was with no small difficulty that the master brought the school tosuch a degree of order that the closing speeches could be received withbecoming respect and attention. The trustees, according to custom, wereinvited to express their opinion upon the examination, and upon schoolmatters generally. The chairman, John Cameron, "Long John, " as he wascalled, broke the ice after much persuasion, and slowly rising fromthe desk into which he had compressed his long, lank form, he made hisspeech. Long John was a great admirer of the master, but for all that, and perhaps because of that, he allowed himself no warmer words ofcommendation than that he was well pleased with the way in whichthe children had conducted themselves. "They have done credit tothemselves, " he said, "and to their teacher. And indeed I am sorry he isleaving us, for, so far, I have heard no complaints in the Section. "

The other trustees followed in the path thus blazed out for them by LongJohn. They were all well pleased with the examination, and they wereall sorry to lose the master, and they had heard no complaints. Itwas perfectly understood that no words of praise could add to the hightestimony that they "had heard no complaints. "

The dominie's speech was a little more elaborate. Somewhat reluctantlyhe acknowledged that the school had acquitted itself with "veryconsiderable credit, " especially the "arith-MET-ic" class, and indeed, considering all the circumstances, Mr. Munro was to be congratulatedupon the results of his work in the Section. But the minister's warmexpression of delight at the day's proceedings, and of regret at thedeparture of the master, more than atoned for the trustees' cautioustestimony, and the dominie's somewhat grudging praise. 

Then came the moment of the day. A great stillness fell upon the schoolas the master rose to make his farewell speech. But before he couldsay a word, up from their seats walked Betsy Dan and Thomas Finch, and ranged themselves before him. The whole assemblage tingled withsuppressed excitement. The great secret with which they had beenburdening themselves for the past few weeks was now to be out. SlowlyThomas extracted the manuscript from his trousers pocket, and smoothedout its many folds, while Betsy Dan waited nervously in the rear. 

"Oh, why did they set Thomas to this?" whispered the minister's wife, who had a profound sense of humor. The truth was, the choice of theschool had fallen upon Ranald and Margaret Aird. Margaret was quitewilling to act, but Ranald refused point-blank, and privately persuadedThomas to accept the honor in his stead. To this Thomas agreed, all themore readily that Margaret, whom he adored from a respectful distance, was to be his partner. But Margaret, who would gladly have beenassociated with Ranald, on the suggestion that Thomas should take hisplace, put up her lower lip in that symbol of scorn so effective withgirls, but which no boy has ever yet accomplished, and declared thatindeed, and she would see that Tom Finch far enough, which plainlymeant "no. " Consequently they had to fall back upon Betsy Dan, who, inaddition to being excessively nervous, was extremely good-natured. And Thomas, though he would greatly have preferred Margaret as hisassistant, was quite ready to accept Betsy Dan. 

The interval of waiting while Thomas deliberately smoothed out thecreases of the paper was exceedingly hard upon Betsy Dan, whose facegrew redder each moment. Jimmie Cameron, too, who realized that theoccasion was one of unusual solemnity, was gazing at Thomas withintense interest growing into amusement, and was holding his fingersin readiness to seize his nose, and so check any explosion of snickers. Just as Thomas had got the last fold of his paper straightened out, andwas turning it right end up, it somehow slipped through his fingers tothe floor. This was too much for Jimmie, who only saved himself fromutter disgrace by promptly seizing his nose and holding on for dearlife. Thomas gave Jimmie a passing glare and straightened himself upfor his work. With a furious frown he cleared his throat and began ina solemn, deep-toned roar, "Dear teacher, learning with regret that youare about to sever your connection, " etc. , etc. All went well untilhe came to the words, "We beg you to accept this gift, not for itsintrinsic value, " etc. , which was the cue for Betsy Dan. But Betsy Danwas engaged in terrorizing Jimmie, and failed to come in, till, after anawful pause, Thomas gave her a sharp nudge, and whispered audibly, "Giveit to him, you gowk. " Poor Betsy Dan, in sudden confusion, whipped herhand out from under her apron, and thrusting a box at the master, saidhurriedly, "Here it is, sir. " As Thomas solemnly concluded his address, a smile ran round the room, while Jimmie doubled himself up in hisefforts to suppress a tempest of snickers. 

The master, however, seemed to see nothing humorous in the situation, but bowing gravely to Thomas and Betsy Dan, he said, kindly, "Thank you, Thomas! Thank you, Elizabeth!" Something in his tone brought the schoolto attention, and even Jimmie forgot to have regard to his nose. Fora few moments the master stood looking upon the faces of his pupils, dwelling upon them one by one, till his eyes rested upon the wee tots inthe front seat, looking at him with eyes of innocent and serious wonder. Then he thanked the children for their gift in a few simple words, assuring them that he should always wear the watch with pride andgrateful remembrance of the Twentieth school, and of his happy daysamong them. 

But when he came to say his words of farewell, and to thank them fortheir goodness to him, and their loyal backing of him while he was theirteacher, his voice grew husky, and for a moment wavered. Then, aftera pause, he spoke of what had been his ideal among them. "It is a goodthing to have your minds trained and stored with useful knowledge, butthere are better things than that. To learn honor, truth, and right; tobe manly and womanly; to be self-controlled and brave and gentle--theseare better than all possible stores of learning; and if I have taughtyou these at all, then I have done what I most wished to do. I haveoften failed, and I have often been discouraged, and might have given upwere it not for the help I received at my worst times from our ministerand from Mrs. Murray, who often saved me from despair. "

A sudden flush tinged the grave, beautiful face of the minister's youngwife. A light filled her eyes as the master said these words, for sheremembered days when the young man's pain was almost greater than hecould bear, and when he was near to giving up. 

When the master ceased, the minister spoke a few words in appreciationof the work he had done in the school, and in the whole Section, duringhis three years' stay among them, and expressed his conviction that manya young lad would grow into a better man because he had known ArchibaldMunro, and some of them would never forget what he had done for them. 

By this time all the big girls and many of the visitors were openlyweeping. The boys were looking straight in front of them, their facesset in an appearance of savage gloom, for they knew well how near theywere to "acting like the girls. "

After a short prayer by the minister, the children filed out past themaster, who stood at the door and shook hands with them one by one. Whenthe big boys, and the young men who had gone to school in the wintermonths, came to say good by, they shook hands silently, and then stoodclose about him as if hating to let him go. He had caught for them inmany a close base-ball match; he had saved their goal in many a fierceshinny fight with the Front; and while he had ruled them with an ironrule, he had always treated them fairly. He had never failed them; hehad never weakened; he had always been a man among them. No wonder theystood close about him and hated to lose him. Suddenly big Bob Frasercalled out in a husky voice, "Three cheers for the captain!" and everyone was glad of the chance to let himself out in a roar. And that wasthe last of the farewells. 

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW MASTER

Right in front of the school door, and some little distance from it, inthe midst of a clump of maples, stood an old beech-tree with a dead top, and half-way down where a limb had once been and had rotted off, ahole. Inside this hole two very respectable but thoroughly impudent redsquirrels had made their nest. The hole led into the dead heart of thetree, which had been hollowed out with pains so as to make a roomy, cosyhome, which the squirrels had lined with fur and moss, and which waswell stored with beechnuts from the tree, their winter's provisions. 

Between the boys and the squirrels there existed an armed neutrality. Itwas understood among the boys that nothing worse than snowballs was tobe used in their war with the squirrels, while with the squirrels itwas a matter of honor that they should put reasonable limits to theirprofanity. But there were times when the relations became strained, andhence the holidays were no less welcome to the squirrels than to theboys. 

To the squirrels this had been a day of unusual anxiety, for the schoolhad taken up again after its two weeks' holidays, and the boys were alittle more inquisitive than usual, and unfortunately, the snow happenedto be good for packing. It had been a bad day for nerves, and Mr. Bushy, as the boys called him, found it impossible to keep his tail in oneposition for more than one second at a time. It was in vain that hismore sedate and self-controlled partner in life remonstrated with himand urged a more philosophic mind. 

"It's all very well for you, my dear, " Mr. Bushy was saying, rathercrossly I am afraid, "to urge a philosophic mind, but if you had theresponsibility of the family upon you--Goodness gracious! Owls andweasels! What in all the woods is that?"

"Can't be the wolves, " said Mrs. Bushy, placidly, "it's too early forthem. "

"Might have known, " replied her husband, quite crossly; "of course it'sthose boys. I wonder why they let them out of school at all. Why can'tthey keep them in where it is warm? It always seems to me a very sillything anyway, for them to keep rushing out of their hole in that stupidfashion. What they do in there I am sure I don't know. It isn't theleast like a nest. I've seen inside of it. There isn't a thing to eat, nor a bit of hair or moss. They just go in and out again. "

"Well, my dear, " said his wife, soothingly, "you can hardly expect themto know as much as people with a wider outlook. We must remember theyare only ground people. "

"That's just it!" grumbled Mr. Bushy. "I only wish they would just keepto themselves and on the ground where they belong, but they have theimpudence to come lumbering up here into our tree. "

"Oh, well, " replied his partner, calmly, "you must acknowledge they donot disturb our nest. "

"And a good thing for them, too, " chattered Mr. Bushy, fiercely, smoothing out his whiskers and showing his sharp front teeth, at whichMrs. Bushy smiled gently behind her tail. 

"But what are they doing now?" she inquired. 

"Oh, they are going off into the woods, " said Mr. Bushy, who hadissued from his hole and was sitting up on a convenient crotch. "And Ideclare!" he said, in amazed tones, "they haven't thrown one snowball atme. Something must be badly wrong with them. Wonder what it is? This isquite unprecedented. "

At this Mrs. Bushy ventured carefully out to observe the extraordinaryphenomenon, for the boys were actually making their way to the gate, thesmaller ones with much noisy shouting, but the big boys soberly enoughengaged in earnest conversation. It was their first day of the newmaster, and such a day as quite "flabbergastrated, " as Don Cameron said, even the oldest of them. But of course Mr. And Mrs. Bushy knew nothingof this, and could only marvel. 

"Murdie, " cried Hughie to Don's big brother, who with Bob Fraser, RanaldMacdonald, and Thomas Finch was walking slowly toward the gate, "youwon't forget to ask your pa for an excuse if you happen to be lateto-morrow, will you?"

Murdie paid no attention. 

"You won't forget your excuse, Murdie, " continued Hughie, poking him inthe back. 

Murdie suddenly turned, caught him by the neck and the seat of histrousers, and threw him head first into a drift, from which he emergedwrathful and sputtering. 

"Well, I hope you do, " continued Hughie, "and then you'll catch it. Andmind you, " he went on, circling round to get in front of him, "if youwant to ask big Bob there for his knife, mind you hold up your handfirst. " Murdie only grinned at him. 

The new master had begun the day by enunciating the regulations underwhich the school was to be administered. They made rather a formidablelist, but two of them seemed to the boys to have gone beyond the limitsof all that was outrageous and absurd. There was to be no speakingduring school hours, and if a boy should desire to ask a question of hisneighbor, he was to hold up his hand and get permission from the master. But worse than all, and more absurd than all, was the regulation thatall late comers and absentees were to bring written excuses from parentsor guardians. 

"Guardian, " Thomas Finch had grunted, "what's that?"

"Your grandmother, " whispered Don back. 

It was not Don's reply that brought Thomas into disgrace this firstday of the new master's rule, it was the vision of big Murdie Cameronwalking up to the desk with an excuse for lateness, which he hadobtained from Long John, his father. This vision breaking suddenly inupon the solemnity of Thomas Finch's mind, had sent him into a snort oflaughter, not more to the surprise of the school than of himself. Thegravity of the school had not been greatly helped by Thomas sheepishanswer to the master's indignant question, "What did you do that for, sir?"

"I didn't; it did itself. "

On the whole, the opening day had not been a success. As a matter offact, it was almost too much to expect that it should be anything buta failure. There was a kind of settled if unspoken opinion among thechildren that no master could ever fill Archibald Munro's place in theschool. Indeed, it was felt to be a kind of impertinence for any man toattempt such a thing. And further, there was a secret sentiment amongthe boys that loyalty to the old master's memory demanded an attitude ofunsympathetic opposition to the one who came to take his place. It didnot help the situation that the new master was unaware of this state ofmind. He was buoyed up by the sentiments of enthusiastic admirationand approval that he carried with him in the testimonials from his lastboard of trustees in town, with which sentiments he fully agreed, andhence he greeted the pupils of the little backwoods school with an airycondescension that reduced the school to a condition of speechless andindignant astonishment. The school was prepared to tolerate the man whoshould presume to succeed their former master, if sufficiently humble, but certainly not to accept airy condescension from him. 

"Does he think we're babies?" asked Don, indignantly. 

"And did you see him trying to chop at recess?" (REE'cis, Hughie calledit. ) "He couldn't hit twice in the same place. "

"And he asked me if that beech there was a maple, " said Bob Fraser, indeep disgust. 

"Oh, shut up your gab!" said Ranald, suddenly. "Give the man a chance, anyway. "

"Will YOU bring an excuse when you're absent, Ranald?" asked Hughie. 

"And where would I be getting it?" asked Ranald, grimly, and all theboys realized the absurdity of expecting a written excuse for Ranald'sabsence from his father. Macdonald Dubh was not a man to be botheredwith such trifles. 

"You might get it from your Aunt Kirsty, Ranald, " said Don, slyly. Theboys shouted at the suggestion. 

"And she could do it well enough if it would be necessary, " said Ranald, facing square round on Don, and throwing up his head after his mannerwhen battle was in the air, while the red blood showed in his dark cheekand his eyes lit up with a fierce gleam. Don read the danger signal. 

"I'm not saying she couldn't, " he hurried to say, apologetically, "butit would be funny, wouldn't it?"

"Well, " said Ranald, relenting and smiling a little, "it would bekeeping her busy at times. "

"When the deer are running, eh, Ranald, " said Murdie, good-naturedly. "But Ranald's right, boys, " he continued, "give the man a chance, sayI. "

"There's our bells, " cried Thomas Finch, as the deep, musical boom ofthe Finch's sleigh-bells came through the bush. "Come on, Hughie, we'llget them at the cross. " And followed by Hughie and the boys from thenorth, he set off for the north cross-roads, where they would meetthe Finch's bob-sleighs coming empty from the saw-mill, to the greatsurprise and unalloyed delight of Mr. And Mrs. Bushy, who from theircrotch in the old beech had watched with some anxiety the boys' unusualconduct. 

"There they are, Hughie, " called Thomas, as the sleighs came out intothe open at the crossroads. "They'll wait for us. They know you'recoming, " he yelled, encouragingly, for the big boys had left the smallerones, a panting train, far in the rear, and were piling themselvesupon the Finch's sleighs, with never a "by your leave" to WilliamJohn--familiarly known as Billy Jack--Thomas' eldest brother, who drovethe Finch's team. 

Thomas' home lay a mile north and another east from the Twentiethcross-roads, but the winter road by which they hauled saw-logs to themill, cut right through the forest, where the deep snow packed hardinto a smooth track, covering roots and logs and mud holes, and makinga perfect surface for the sleighs, however heavily loaded, except wherehere and there the pitch-holes or cahots came. These cahots, by the way, though they became, especially toward the spring, a serious annoyanceto teamsters, only added another to the delights that a sleigh-ride heldfor the boys. 

To Hughie, the ride this evening was blissful to an unspeakable degree. He was overflowing with new sensations. He was going to spend the nightwith Thomas, for one thing, and Thomas as his host was quite a new anddifferent person from the Thomas of the school. The minister's wife, ever since the examination day, had taken a deeper interest in Thomas, and determined that something should be made out of the solemn, stolid, slow-moving boy. Partly for this reason she had yielded to Hughie'seager pleading, backing up the invitation brought by Thomas himselfand delivered in an agony of red-faced confusion, that Hughie should beallowed to go home with him for the night. Partly, too, because shewas glad that Hughie should see something of the Finch's home, andespecially of the dark-faced, dark-eyed little woman who so silently andunobtrusively, but so efficiently, administered her home, her family, and their affairs, and especially her husband, without suspicion on hispart that anything of the kind was being done. 

In addition to the joy that Hughie had in Thomas in his new role ashost, this winter road was full of wonder and delight, as were all roadsand paths that wound right through the heart of the bush. The regularmade-up roads, with the forest cut back beyond the ditches at the sides, were a great weariness to Hughie, except indeed, in the springtime, whenthese ditches were running full with sun-lit water, over the mottledclay bottom and gravelly ripples. But the bush roads and paths, summerand winter, were filled with things of wonder and of beauty, and thisparticular winter road of the Finch's was best of all to Hughie, for itwas quite new to him, and besides, it led right through the mysterious, big pine swamp and over the butternut ridge, beyond which lay theFinch's farm. Balsam-trees, tamarack, spruce, and cedar made up thethick underbrush of the pine swamp, white birch, white ash, and blackwere thickly sprinkled through it, but high above these lesser treestowered the white pines, lifting their great, tufted crests in lonelygrandeur, seeming like kings among meaner men. Here and there the rabbitrunways, packed into hard little paths, crossed the road and disappearedunder the thick spruces and balsams; here and there, the sly, singletrack of the fox, or the deep hoof-mark of the deer, led off intounknown depths on either side. Hughie, sitting up on the bolster of thefront bob beside Billy Jack, for even the big boys recognized his right, as Thomas' guest, to that coveted place, listened with eager face andwide-open eyes to Billy Jack's remarks upon the forest and its strangepeople. 

One thing else added to Hughie's keen enjoyment of the ride. BillyJack's bays were always in the finest of fettle, and pulled hard on thelines, and were rarely allowed the rapture of a gallop. But when theswamp was passed and the road came to the more open butternut ridge, Billy Jack shook the lines over their backs and let them out. Theirresponse was superb to witness, and brought Hughie some moments ofecstatic rapture. Along the hard-packed road that wound about among thebig butternuts, the rangey bays sped at a flat gallop, bounding clearover the cahots, the booming of the bells and the rattling of the chainsfurnishing an exhilarating accompaniment to the swift, swaying motion, while the children clung for dear life to the bob-sleighs and to eachother. It was all Billy Jack could do to get his team down to a trot bythe time they reached the clearing, for there the going was perilous, and besides, it was just as well that his father should not witnessany signs on Billy Jack's part of the folly that he was inclined toattribute to the rising generation. So steadily enough the bays trottedup the lane and between long lines of green cordwood on one side anda hay-stack on the other, into the yard, and swinging round the bigstraw-stack that faced the open shed, and was flanked on the right bythe cow-stable and hog-pen, and on the left by the horse-stable, came toa full stop at their own stable door. 

"Thomas, you take Hughie into the house to get warm, till I unhitch, "said Billy Jack, with the feeling that courtesy to the minister's sondemanded this attention. But Hughie, rejecting this proposition withscorn, pushed Thomas aside and set himself to unhitch the S-hook on theoutside trace of the nigh bay. It was one of Hughie's grievances, anda very sore point with him, that his father's people would insiston treating him in the privileged manner they thought proper to hisfather's son, and his chief ambition was to stand upon his own legsand to fare like other boys. So he scorned Billy Jack's suggestion, andwhile some of the children scurried about the stacks for a little rompbefore setting off for their homes, which some of them, for the sake ofthe ride, had left far behind, Hughie devoted himself to the unhitchingof the team with Billy Jack. And so quick was he in his movements, and so fearless of the horses, that he had his side unhitched and wasstruggling with the breast-strap before Billy Jack had finished with hishorse. 

"Man! you're a regular farmer, " said Billy Jack, admiringly, "onlyyou're too quick for the rest of us. "

Hughie, still struggling with the breast-strap, found his heart swellwith pride. To be a farmer was his present dream. 

"But that's too heavy for you, " continued Billy Jack. "Here, let downthe tongue first. "

"Pshaw!" said Hughie, disgusted at his exhibition of ignorance, "I knewthat tongue ought to come out first, but I forgot. "

"Oh, well, it's just as good that way, but not quite so easy, " saidBilly Jack, with doubtful consistency. 

It took Hughie but a few minutes after the tongue was let down tounfasten his end of the neck-yoke and the cross-lines, and he wasbeginning at his hame-strap, always a difficult buckle, when Billy Jackcalled out, "Hold on there! You're too quick for me. We'll make themcarry their own harness into the stable. Don't believe in making a horseof myself. " Billy Jack was something of a humorist. 

The Finch homestead was a model of finished neatness. Order was its law. Outside, the stables, barns, stacks, the very wood-piles, evidenced thatlaw. Within, the house and its belongings and affairs were perfectin their harmonious arrangement. The whole establishment, without andwithin, gave token of the unremitting care of one organizing mind, for, from dark to dark, while others might have their moments of rest andcareless ease, "the little mother, " as Billy Jack called her, was everon guard, and all the machinery of house and farm moved smoothly and topurpose because of that unsleeping care. She was last to bed and firstto stir, and Billy Jack declared that she used to put the cats to sleepat night, and waken up the roosters in the morning. And through it allher face remained serene, and her voice flowed in quiet tones. BillyJack adored her with all the might of his big heart and body. Thomas, slow of motion as of expression, found in her the center of his somewhatsluggish being. Jessac, the little dark-faced maiden of nine years, whose face was the very replica of her mother's, knew nothing in theworld dearer, albeit in her daily little housewifely tasks she feltthe gentle pressure of that steadfast mind and unyielding purpose. Herhusband regarded her with a curious mingling of reverence and defiance, for Donald Finch was an obstinate man, with a man's love of authority, and a Scotchman's sense of his right to rule in his own house. But whilehe talked much about his authority, and made a great show of absolutismwith his family, he was secretly conscious that another will thanhis had really kept things moving about the farm; for he had long agolearned that his wife was always right, while he might often be wrong, and that, withal her soft words and gentle ways, hers was a will likesteel. 

Besides the law of order, another law ruled in the Finch household--thelaw of work. The days were filled with work, for they each had theirshare to do, and bore the sole responsibility for its being well done. If the cows failed in their milk, or the fat cattle were not up to themark, the father felt the reproach as his; to Billy Jack fell the careand handling of the horses; Thomas took charge of the pigs, and thegetting of wood and water for the house; little Jessac had her dailytask of "sorting the rooms, " and when the days were too stormy or thesnow too deep for school, she had in addition her stent of knitting orof winding the yarn for the weaver. To the mother fell all the rest. Atthe cooking and the cleaning, and the making and the mending, all finearts with her, she diligently toiled from long before dawn till afterall the rest were abed. But besides these and other daily householdduties there were, in their various seasons, the jam and jelly, thepumpkin and squash preserves, the butter-making and cheese-making, andmore than all, the long, long work with the wool. Billy Jack used to saythat the little mother followed that wool from the backs of her sheepto the backs of her family, and hated to let the weaver have his turnat it. What with the washing and the oiling of it, the carding and thespinning, the twisting and the winding, she never seemed to be done. Andthen, when it came back from the weaver in great webs of fulled-clothand flannel and winsey, there was all the cutting, shaping, and sewingbefore the family could get it on their backs. True, the tailor wascalled in to help, but though he declared he worked no place else as heworked at the Finch's, it was Billy Jack's openly expressed opinion that"he worked his jaw more than his needle, for at meal-times he gave hisneedle a rest. "

But though Hughie, of course, knew nothing of this toiling and moiling, he was distinctly conscious of an air of tidiness and comfort andquiet, and was keenly alive to the fact that there was a splendid supperwaiting him when he got in from the stables with the others, "hungry asa wild-cat, " as Billy jack expressed it. And that WAS a supper! Friedribs of fresh pork, and hashed potatoes, hot and brown, followed bybuckwheat pancakes, hot and brown, with maple syrup. There was tea forthe father and mother with their oat cakes, but for the children no suchluxury, only the choice of buttermilk or sweet milk. Hughie, it is true, was offered tea, but he promptly declined, for though he loved it wellenough, it was sufficient reason for him that Thomas had none. It took, however, all the grace out of his declining, that Mr. Finch remarkedin gruff pleasantry, "What would a boy want with tea!" The supper wasa very solemn meal. They were all too busy to talk, at least so Hughiefelt, and as for himself, he was only afraid lest the others should"push back" before he had satisfied the terrible craving within him. 

After supper the books were taken, and in Gaelic, for though DonaldFinch was perfectly able in English for business and ordinary affairsof life, when it came to the worship of God, he found that only in theancient mother tongue could he "get liberty. " As Hughie listened to thesolemn reading, and then to the prayer that followed, though he couldunderstand only a word now and again, he was greatly impressed with therhythmic, solemn cadence of the voice, and as he glanced through hisfingers at the old man's face, he was surprised to find how completelyit had changed. It was no longer the face of the stern and stubbornautocrat, but of an earnest, humble, reverent man of God; and Hughie, looking at him, wondered if he would not be altogether nicer withhis wife and boys after that prayer was done. He had yet to learn howobstinate and even hard a man can be and still have a great "gift inprayer. "

From the old man's face, Hughie's glance wandered to his wife's, andthere was held fascinated. For the first time Hughie thought it wasbeautiful, and more than that, he was startled to find that it remindedhim of his mother's. At once he closed his eyes, for he felt as if hehad been prying where he had no right. 

After the prayer was over they all drew about the glowing polishedkitchen stove with the open front, and set themselves to enjoy that hourwhich, more than any other, helps to weave into the memory the thoughtsand feelings that in after days are associated with home. Old Donalddrew forth his pipe, a pleased expectation upon his face, and aftercutting enough tobacco from the black plug which he pulled from histrousers pocket, he rolled it fine, with deliberation, and packed itcarefully into his briar-root pipe, from which dangled a tin cap; thendrawing out some live coals from the fire, he with a quick motion pickedone up, set it upon the top of the tobacco, and holding it there withhis bare finger until Hughie was sure he would burn himself, puffed withhard, smacking puffs, but with a more comfortable expression than Hughiehad yet seen him wear. Then, when it was fairly lit, he knocked off thecoal, packed down the tobacco, put on the little tin cap, and sat backin his covered arm-chair, and came as near beaming upon the world asever he allowed himself to come. 

"Here, Jessac, " he said to the little dark-faced maiden slipping aboutthe table under the mother's silent direction. Jessac glanced at hermother and hesitated. Then, apparently reading her mother's face, shesaid, "In a minute, da, " and seizing the broom, which was much tallerthan herself, she began to brush up the crumbs about the table withamazing deftness. This task completed, and the crumbs being thrown intothe pig's barrel which stood in the woodshed just outside the door, Jessac set her broom in the corner, hung up the dust-pan on its propernail behind the stove, and then, running to her father, climbed upon his knee and snuggled down into his arms for an hour's luxuriouslaziness before the fire. Hughie gazed in amazement at her temerity, forDonald Finch was not a man to take liberties with; but as he gazed, he wondered the more, for again the face of the stern old man wastransformed. 

"Be quaet now, lassie. Hear me now, I am telling you, " he admonishedthe little girl in his arms, while there flowed over his face a look ofhalf-shamed delight that seemed to fill up and smooth out all its severelines. 

Hughie was still gazing and wondering when the old man, catching hisearnest, wide-open gaze, broke forth suddenly, in a voice nearly jovial, "Well, lad, so you have taken up the school again. You will be having afine time of it altogether. "

The lad, startled more by the joviality of his manner than by thesuddenness of his speech, hastily replied, "Indeed, we are not, then. "

"What! what!" replied the old man, returning to his normal aspect ofseverity. "Do you not know that you have great privileges now?"

"Huh!" grunted Hughie. "If we had Archie Munro again. "

"And what is wrong with the new man?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's not a bit nice. He's--"

"Too many rules, " said Thomas, slowly. 

"Aha!" said his father, with a note of triumph in his tone; "so that'sit, is it? He will be bringing you to the mark, I warrant you. Andindeed it's high time, for I doubt Archie Munro was just a little softwith you. "

The old man's tone was aggravating enough, but his reference to the oldmaster was too much for Hughie, and even Thomas was moved to words morethan was his wont in his father's presence. 

"He has too many rules, " repeated Thomas, stolidly, "and they will notbe kept. "

"And he is as proud as he can be, " continued Hughie. "Comes along withhis cane and his stand-up collar, and lifts his hat off to the biggirls, and--and--och! he's just as stuck-up as anything!" Hughie'svocabulary was not equal to his contempt. 

"There will not be much wrong with his cane in the Twentieth School, Idare say, " went on the old man, grimly. "As for lifting his hat, it istime some of them were learning manners. When I was a boy we were madeto mind our manners, I can tell you. "

"So are we!" replied Hughie, hotly; "but we don't go shoween off likethat! And then himself and his rules!" Hughie's disgust was quiteunutterable. 

"Rules!" exclaimed the old man. "Ay, that is what is the trouble. "

"Well, " said Hughie, with a spice of mischief, "if Thomas is late forschool he will have to bring a note of excuse. "

"Very good indeed. And why should he be late at all?"

"And if any one wants a pencil he can't ask for it unless he getspermission from the master. "

"Capital!" said the old man, rubbing his hands delightedly. "He's theright sort, whatever. "

"And if you keep Thomas home a day or a week, you will have to write tothe master about it, " continued Hughie. 

"And what for, pray?" said the old man, hastily. "May I notkeep--but--Yes, that's a very fine rule, too. It will keep the boys fromthe woods, I am thinking. "

"But think of big Murdie Cameron holding up his hand to ask leave tospeak to Bob Fraser!"

"And why not indeed? If he's not too big to be in school he's not toobig for that. Man alive! you should have seen the master in my schooldays lay the lads over the forms and warm their backs to them. "

"As big as Murdie?"

"Ay, and bigger. And what's more, he would send for them to their homes, and bring them strapped to a wheel-barrow. Yon was a master for you!"

Hughie snorted. "Huh! I tell you what, we wouldn't stand that. And wewon't stand this man either. "

"And what will you be doing now, Hughie?" quizzed the old man. 

"Well, " said Hughie, reddening at the sarcasm, "I will not do much, butthe big boys will just carry him out. "

"And who will be daring to do that, Hughie?"

"Well, Murdie, and Bob Fraser, and Curly Ross, and Don, and--and Thomas, there, " added Hughie, fearing to hurt Thomas' feelings by leaving himout. 

"Ay, " said the old man, shutting his lips tight on his pipestem andpuffing with a smacking noise, "let me catch Thomas at that!"

"And I would help, too, " said Hughie, valiantly, fearing he had exposedhis friend, and wishing to share his danger. 

"Well, your father would be seeing to that, " said the old man, withgreat satisfaction, feeling that Hughie's discipline might be safelyleft in the minister's hands. 

There was a pause of a few moments, and then a quiet voice inquiredgently, "He will be a very big man, Hughie, I suppose. "

"Oh, just ordinary, " said Hughie, innocently, turning to Mrs. Finch. 

"Oh, then, they will not be requiring you and Thomas, I am thinking, tocarry him out. " At which Hughie and Billy Jack and Jessac laughed aloud, but Thomas and his father only looked stolidly into the fire. 

"Come, Thomas, " said his mother, "take your fiddle a bit. Hughie willlike a tune. " There was no need of any further discussing the newmaster. 

But Thomas was very shy about his fiddle, and besides he was not ina mood for it; his father's words had rasped him. It took the unitedpersuasions of Billy Jack and Jessac and Hughie to get the fiddle intoThomas' hands, but after a few tuning scrapes all shyness and moodinessvanished, and soon the reels and strathspeys were dropping from Thomas'flying fingers in a way that set Hughie's blood tingling. But when thefiddler struck into Money Musk, Billy Jack signed Jessac to him, andwhispering to her, set her out on the middle of the floor. 

"Aw, I don't like to, " said Jessac, twisting her apron into her mouth. 

"Come away, Jessac, " said her mother, quietly, "do your best. " AndJessac, laying aside shyness, went at her Highland reel with the sameserious earnestness she gave to her tidying or her knitting. Daintilyshe tripped the twenty-four steps of that intricate, ancient dance ofthe Celt people, whirling, balancing, poising, snapping her fingers, and twinkling her feet in the true Highland style, till once more herfather's face smoothed out its wrinkles, and beamed like a harvest moon. Hughie gazed, uncertain whether to allow himself to admire Jessac'sperformance, or to regard it with a boy's scorn, as she was only agirl. And yet he could not escape the fascination of the swift, rhythmicmovement of the neat, twinkling feet. 

"Well done, Jessac, lass, " said her father, proudly. "But what would theminister be saying at such frivolity?" he added, glancing at Hughie. 

"Huh! he can do it himself well enough, " said Hughie, "and I tell youwhat, I only wish I could do it. "

"I'll show you, " said Jessac, shyly, but for the first time in his lifeHughie's courage failed, and though he would have given much to be ableto make his feet twinkle through the mazes of the Highland reel, hecould not bring himself to accept teaching from Jessac. If it had onlybeen Thomas or Billy Jack who had offered, he would soon enough havebeen on the floor. For a moment he hesitated, then with a suddeninspiration, he cried, "All right. Do it again. I'll watch. " But themother said quietly, "I think that will do, Jessac. And I am afraidyour father will be going with cold hands if you don't hurry with thosemitts. " And Jessac put up her lip with the true girl's grimace and wentaway for her knitting, to Hughie's disappointment and relief. 

Soon Billy Jack took down the tin lantern, pierced with holes intocurious patterns, through which the candle-light rayed forth, and wentout to bed the horses. In spite of protests from all the family, Hughieset forth with him, carrying the lantern and feeling very much thefarmer, while Billy Jack took two pails of boiled oats and barley, witha mixture of flax-seed, which was supposed to give to the Finch's teamtheir famous and superior gloss. When they returned from the stable theyfound in the kitchen Thomas, who was rubbing a composition of tallow andbees-wax into his boots to make them water-proof, and the mother, whowas going about setting the table for the breakfast. 

"Too bad you have to go to bed, mother, " said Billy Jack, strugglingwith his boot-jack. "You might just go on getting the breakfast, andwhat a fine start that would give you for the day. "

"You hurry, William John, to bed with that poor lad. What would hismother say? He must be fairly exhausted. "

"I'm not a bit tired, " said Hughie, brightly, his face radiant with thedelight of his new experiences. 

"You will need all your sleep, my boy, " said the mother, kindly, "forwe rise early here. But, " she added, "you will lie till the boys arethrough with their work, and Thomas will waken you for your breakfast. "

"Indeed, no! I'm going to get up, " announced Hughie. 

"But, Hughie, " said Billy Jack, seriously, "if you and Thomas are goingto carry out that man to-morrow, you will need a mighty lot of sleepto-night. "

"Hush, William John, " said the mother to her eldest son, "you mustn'ttease Hughie. And it's not good to be saying such things, even in fun, to boys like Thomas and Hughie. "

"That's true, mother, for they're rather fierce already. "

"Indeed, they are not that. And I am sure they will do nothing that willshame their parents. "

To this Hughie made no reply. It was no easy matter to harmonize thethought of his parents with the exploit of ejecting the master from theschool, so he only said good night, and went off with the silent Thomasto bed. But in the visions of his head which haunted him the night long, racing horses and little girls with tossing curls and twinkling feetwere strangely mingled with wild conflicts with the new master; and itseemed to him that he had hardly dropped off to sleep, when he wasawake again to see Thomas standing beside him with a candle in his hand, announcing that breakfast was ready. 

"Have you been out to the stable?" he eagerly inquired, and Thomasnodded. In great disappointment and a little shamefacedly he made hisappearance at the breakfast-table. 

It seemed to Hughie as if it must be still the night before, for it wasquite dark outside. He had never had breakfast by candle-light beforein his life, and he felt as if it all were still a part of his dreams, until he found himself sitting beside Billy Jack on a load of saw-logs, waving good by to the group at the door, the old man, whose face in thegray morning light had resumed its wonted severe look, the quiet, littledark-faced woman, smiling kindly at him and bidding him come again, andthe little maid at her side with the dark ringlets, who glanced at himfrom behind the shelter of her mother's skirts, with shy boldness. 

As Hughie was saying his good bys, he was thinking most of the twinklingfeet and the tossing curls, and so he added to his farewells, "Goodby, Jessac. I'm going to learn that reel from you some day, " and then, turning about, he straight-way forgot all about her and her reel, forBilly Jack's horses were pawing to be off, and rolling their solemnbells, while their breath rose in white clouds above their heads, wreathing their manes in hoary rime. 

"Git-ep, lads, " said Billy Jack, hauling his lines taut and flourishinghis whip. The bays straightened their backs, hung for a few momentson their tugs, for the load had frozen fast during the night, and thenmoved off at a smart trot, the bells solemnly booming out, and thesleighs creaking over the frosty snow. 

"Man!" said Hughie, enthusiastically, "I wish I could draw logs allwinter. "

"It's not too bad a job on a day like this, " assented Billy Jack. Andindeed, any one might envy him the work on such a morning. Over thetreetops the rays of the sun were beginning to shoot their rosy dartsup into the sky, and to flood the clearing with light that sparkled andshimmered upon the frost particles, glittering upon and glorifying snowand trees, and even the stumps and fences. Around the clearing stood theforest, dark and still, except for the frost reports that now and thenrang out like pistol shots. To Hughie, the early morning invested theforest with a new beauty and a new wonder. The dim light of the dawningday deepened the silence, so that involuntarily he hushed his voice inspeaking, and the deep-toned roll of the sleigh-bells seemed to smiteupon that dim, solemn quiet with startling blows. On either sidethe balsams and spruces, with their mantles of snow, stood likewhite-swathed sentinels on guard--silent, motionless, alert. Hughielooked to see them move as the team drove past. 

As they left the more open butternut ridge and descended into the depthsof the big pine swamp, the dim light faded into deeper gloom, and Hughiefelt as if he were in church, and an awe gathered upon him. 

"It's awful still, " he said to Billy Jack in a low tone, and Billy Jack, catching the look in the boy's face, checked the light word upon hislips, and gazed around into the deep forest glooms with new eyes. Themystery and wonder of the forest had never struck him before. It hadhitherto been to him a place for hunting or for getting big saw-logs. But to-day he saw it with Hughie's eyes, and felt the majesty of itsbeauty and silence. For a long time they drove without a word. 

"Say, it's mighty fine, isn't it?" he said, adopting Hughie's low tone. 

"Splendid!" exclaimed Hughie. "My! I could just hug those big trees. They look at me like--like your mother, don't they, or mine?" But thiswas beyond Billy Jack. 

"Like my mother?"

"Yes, you know, quiet and--and--kind, and nice. "

"Yes, " said Thomas, breaking in for the first time, "that's just it. They do look, sure enough, like my mother and yours. They have both gotthat look. "

"Git-ep!" said Billy Jack to his team. "These fellows'll be ketchin'something bad if we don't get into the open soon. Shouldn't wonder ifthey've got 'em already, making out their mothers like an old whitepine. Git-ep, I say!"

"Oh, pshaw!" said Hughie, "you know what I mean. "

"Not much I don't. But it don't matter so long as you're feelin' allright. This swamp's rather bad for the groojums. "

"What?" Hughie's eyes began to open wide as he glanced into the forest. 

"The groojums. Never heard of them things? They ketch a fellow in placeslike this when it's gettin' on towards midnight, and about daylight it'salmost as bad. "

"What are they like?" asked Hughie, upon whom the spell of the forestlay. 

"Oh, mighty queer. Always crawl up on your back, and ye can't helptwistin' round. "

Hughie glanced at Thomas and was at once relieved. 

"Oh, pshaw! Billy Jack, you can't fool me. I know you. "

"I guess you're safe enough now. They don't bother you much in theclearing, " said Billy Jack, encouragingly. 

"Oh, fiddle! I'm not afraid. "

"Nobody is in the open, and especially in the daytime. "

"Oh, I don't care for your old groojums. "

"Guess you care more for your new boss yonder, eh?" said Billy Jack, nodding toward the school-house, which now came into view. 

"Oh, " said Hughie, with a groan, "I just hate going to-day. "

"You'll be all right when you get there, " said Billy Jack, cheerfully. "It's like goin' in swimmin'. "

Soon they were at the cross-roads. 

"Good by, Billy Jack, " said Hughie, feeling as if he had been on a long, long visit. "I've had an awfully good time, and I'd like to go back withyou. "

"Wish you would, " said Billy Jack, heartily. "Come again soon. And don'tcarry out the master to-day. It looks like a storm; he might get cold. "

"He had better mind out, then, " cried Hughie after Billy Jack, and setoff with Thomas for the school. But neither Hughie nor Thomas had anyidea of the thrilling experiences awaiting them in the Twentieth Schoolbefore the week was done. 

CHAPTER V

THE CRISIS

The first days of that week were days of strife. Murdie Cameron andBob Fraser and the other big boys succeeded in keeping in line with themaster's rules and regulations. They were careful never to be late, and so saved themselves the degradation of bringing an excuse. But thesmaller boys set themselves to make the master's life a burden, andsucceeded beyond their highest expectations, for the master was quickof temper, and was determined at all costs to exact full and promptobedience. There was more flogging done those first six days than duringany six months of Archie Munro's rule. Sometimes the floggings amountedto little, but sometimes they were serious, and when those fell upon thesmaller boys, the girls would weep and the bigger boys would grind theirteeth and swear. 

The situation became so acute that Murdie Cameron and the big boysdecided that they would quit the school. They were afraid the temptationto throw the master out would some day be more than they could bear, and for men who had played their part, not without credit, in the ScotchRiver fights, to carry out the master would have been an exploit hardlyworthy of them. So, in dignified contempt of the master and his rules, they left the school after the third day. 

Their absence did not help matters much; indeed, the master appeared tobe relieved, and proceeded to tame the school into submission. It waslittle Jimmie Cameron who precipitated the crisis. Jimmie's nose, uponwhich he relied when struggling with his snickers, had an unpleasanttrick of failing him at critical moments, and of letting out explosivesnorts of the most disturbing kind. He had finally been warned that uponhis next outburst punishment would fall. 

It was Friday afternoon, the drowsy hour just before recess, while themaster was explaining to the listless Euclid class the mysteries of theforty-seventh proposition, that suddenly a snort of unusual violenceburst upon the school. Immediately every eye was upon the master, forall had heard and had noted his threat to Jimmie. 

"James, was that you, sir?"

There was no answer, except such as could be gathered from Jimmie's veryred and very shamed face. 

"James, stand up!"

Jimmie wriggled to his feet, and stood a heap of various angles. 

"Now, James, you remember what I promised you? Come here, sir!"

Jimmie came slowly to the front, growing paler at each step, and stoodwith a dazed look on his face, before the master. He had never beenthrashed in all his life. At home the big brothers might cuff himgood-naturedly, or his mother thump him on the head with her thimble, but a serious whipping was to him an unknown horror. 

The master drew forth his heavy black strap with impressive deliberationand ominous silence. The preparations for punishment were so elaborateand imposing that the big boys guessed that the punishment itself wouldnot amount to much. Not so Jimmie. He stood numb with fear and horribleexpectation. The master lifted up the strap. 

"James, hold out your hand!"

Jimmie promptly clutched his hand behind his back. 

"Hold out your hand, sir, at once!" No answer. 

"James, you must do as you are told. Your punishment for disobediencewill be much severer than for laughing. " But Jimmie stood pale, silent, with his hands tight clasped behind his back. 

The master stepped forward, and grasping the little boy's arm, tried topull his hand to the front; but Jimmie, with a roar like that of a youngbull, threw himself flat on his face on the floor and put his handsunder him. The school burst into a laugh of triumph, which increased themaster's embarrassment and rage. 

"Silence!" he said, "or it will be a worse matter for some of you thanfor James. "

Then turning his attention to Jimmie, be lifted him from the floor andtried to pull out his hand. But Jimmie kept his arms folded tight acrosshis breast, roaring vigorously the while, and saying over and over, "Goaway from me! Go away from me, I tell you! I'm not taking anything to dowith you. "

The big boys were enjoying the thing immensely. The master's rage wasdeepening in proportion. He felt it would never do to be beaten. Hiswhole authority was at stake. 

"Now, James, " he reasoned, "you see you are only making it worse foryourself. I cannot allow any disobedience in the school. You must holdout your hand. "

But Jimmie, realizing that he had come off best in the first round, stood doggedly sniffing, his arms still folded tight. 

"Now, James, I shall give you one more chance. Hold out your hand. "

Jimmie remained like a statue. 

Whack! came the heavy strap over his shoulders. At once Jimmie set uphis refrain, "Go away from me, I tell you! I'm not taking anything to dowith you!"

Whack! whack! whack! fell the strap with successive blows, each heavierthan the last. There was no longer any laughing in the school. Theaffair was growing serious. The girls were beginning to sob, and thebigger boys to grow pale. 

"Now, James, will you hold out your hand? You see how much worse you aremaking it for yourself, " said the master, who was heartily sick of thestruggle, which he felt to be undignified, and the result of which hefeared was dubious. 

But Jimmie only kept up his cry, now punctuated with sobs, "I'm--not--taking--anything--to do--with--you. "

"Jimmie, listen to me, " said the master. "You must hold out your hand. Icannot have boys refusing to obey me in this school. " But Jimmie caughtthe entreaty in the tone, and knowing that the battle was nearly over, kept obstinately silent. 

"Well, then, " said the master, suddenly, "you must take it, " and liftingthe strap, he laid it with such sharp emphasis over Jimmie's shouldersthat Jimmie's voice rose in a wilder roar than usual, and the girlsburst into audible weeping. 

Suddenly, above all the hubbub, rose a voice, clear and sharp. 

"Stop!" It was Thomas Finch, of all people, standing with face white andtense, and regarding the master with steady eyes. 

The school gazed thunderstruck at the usually slow and stolid Thomas. 

"What do you mean, sir?" said the master, gladly turning from Jimmie. But Thomas stood silent, as much surprised as the master at his suddenexclamation. 

He stood hesitating for a moment, and then said, "You can thrash me inhis place. He's a little chap, and has never been thrashed. "

The master misunderstood his hesitation for fear, pushed Jimmie aside, threw down his strap, and seized a birch rod. 

"Come forward, sir! I'll put an end to your insubordination, at anyrate. Hold out your hand!"

Thomas held out his hand till the master finished one birch rod. 

"The other hand, sir!"

Another birch rod was used up, but Thomas neither uttered a sound normade a move till the master had done, then he asked, in a strainedvoice, "Were you going to give Jimmie all that, sir?"

The master caught the biting sneer in the tone, and lost himselfcompletely. 

"Do you dare to answer me back?" he cried. He opened his desk, took outa rawhide, and without waiting to ask for his hand, began to lay therawhide about Thomas's shoulders and legs, till he was out of breath. 

"Now, perhaps you will learn your place, sir, " he said. 

"Thank you, " said Thomas, looking him steadily in the eye. 

"You are welcome. And I'll give you as much more whenever you show thatyou need it. " The slight laugh with which he closed this brutal speechmade Thomas wince as he had not during his whole terrible thrashing, butstill he had not a word to say. 

"Now, James, come here!" said the master, turning to Jimmie. "You seewhat happens when a boy is insubordinate. " Jimmie came trembling. "Holdout your hand!" Out came Jimmie's hand at once. Whack! fell the strap. 

"The other!"

"Stop it!" roared Thomas. "I took his thrashing. "

"The other!" said the master, ignoring Thomas. 

With a curious savage snarl Thomas sprung at him. The master, however, was on the alert, and swinging round, met him with a straight facerbetween the eyes, and Thomas went to the floor. 

"Aha! my boy! I'll teach you something you have yet to learn. "

For answer came another cry, "Come on, boys!" It was Ranald Macdonald, coming over the seats, followed by Don Cameron, Billy Ross, and somesmaller boys. The master turned to meet them. 

"Come along!" he said, backing up to his desk. "But I warn you it's nota strap or a rawhide I shall use. "

Ranald paid no attention to his words, but came straight toward him, andwhen at arm's length, sprung at him with the cry, "Horo, boys!"

But before he could lay his hands upon the master, he received a blowstraight on the bridge of the nose that staggered him back, stunned andbleeding. By this time Thomas was up again, and rushing in was receivedin like manner, and fell back over a bench. 

"How do you like it, boys?" smiled the master. "Come right along. "

The boys obeyed his invitation, approaching him, but more warily, andawaiting their chance to rush. Suddenly Thomas, with a savage snarl, put his head down and rushed in beneath the master's guard, paid noattention to the heavy blow he received on the head, and locking hisarms round the master's middle, buried his head close into his chest. 

At once Ranald and Billy Ross threw themselves upon the struggling pairand carried them to the floor, the master underneath. There was a fewmoments of fierce struggling, and then the master lay still, with thefour boys holding him down for dear life. 

It was Thomas who assumed command. 

"Don't choke him so, Ranald, " he said. "And clear out of the way, allyou girls and little chaps. "

"What are you going to do, Thomas?" asked Don, acknowledging Thomas'snew-born leadership. 

"Tie him up, " said Thomas. "Get me a sash. "

At once two or three little boys rushed to the hooks and brought one ortwo of the knitted sashes that hung there, and Thomas proceeded to tiethe master's legs. 

While he was thus busily engaged, a shadow darkened the door, and avoice exclaimed, "What is all this about?" It was the minister, whohad been driving past and had come upon the terrified, weeping childrenrushing home. 

"Is that you, Thomas? And you, Don?"

The boys let go their hold and stood up, shamed but defiant. 

Immediately the master was on his feet, and with a swift, fierce blow, caught Thomas on the chin. Thomas, taken off his guard, fell with a thudon the floor. 

"Stop that, young man!" said the minister, catching his arm. "That's acoward's blow. "

"Hands off!" said the master, shaking himself free and squaring up tohim. 

"Ye would, would ye?" said the minister, gripping him by the neck andshaking him as he might a child. "Lift ye're hand to me, would ye?I'll break you're back to ye, and that I will. " So saying, the ministerseized him by the arms and held him absolutely helpless. The masterceased to struggle, and put down his hands. 

"Ay, ye'd better, my man, " said the minister, giving him a flingbackward. 

Meantime Don had been holding snow to Thomas's head, and had brought himround. 

"Now, then, " said the minister to the boys, "what does all this mean?"

The boys were all silent, but the master spoke. 

"It is a case of rank and impudent insubordination, sir, and I demandthe expulsion of those impudent rascals. "

"Well, sir, " said the minister, "be sure there will be a thoroughinvestigation, and I greatly misjudge the case if there are not faultson both sides. And for one thing, the man who can strike such a cowardlyblow as you did a moment ago would not be unlikely to be guilty ofinjustice and cruelty. "

"It is none of your business, " said the master, insolently. 

"You will find that I shall make it my business, " said the minister. "And now, boys, be off to your homes, and be here Monday morning at nineo'clock, when this matter shall be gone into. "

CHAPTER VI

"ONE THAT RULETH WELL HIS OWN HOUSE"

The news of the school trouble ran through the section like fire througha brule. The younger generations when they heard how Thomas Finch haddared the master, raised him at once to the rank of hero, but the headsof families received the news doubtfully, and wondered what the risinggeneration was coming to. 

The next day Billy Jack heard the story in the Twentieth store, and withsome anxiety waited for the news to reach his father's ears, for to tellthe truth, Billy Jack, man though he was, held his father in dread. 

"How did you come to do it?" he asked Thomas. "Why didn't you let Donbegin? It was surely Don's business. "

"I don't know. It slipped out, " replied Thomas. "I couldn't standJimmie's yelling any longer. I didn't know I said anything till I foundmyself standing up, and after that I didn't seem to care for anything. "

"Man! it was fine, though, " said Billy Jack. "I didn't think it was inyou. " And Thomas felt more than repaid for all his cruel beating. It wassomething to win the approval of Billy Jack in an affair of this kind. 

It was at church on the Sabbath day that Donald Finch heard about hisson's doings in the school the week before. The minister, in his sermon, thought fit to dwell upon the tendency of the rising generation torevolt against authority in all things, and solemnly laid upon parentsthe duty and responsibility of seeing to it that they ruled theirhouseholds well. 

It was not just the advice that Donald Finch stood specially in need of, but he was highly pleased with the sermon, and was enlarging upon itin the churchyard where the people gathered between the services, whenPeter McRae, thinking that old Donald was hardly taking the minister'sadvice to himself as he ought, and not knowing that the old man wasignorant of all that had happened in the school, answered him somewhatseverely. 

"It is good to be approving the sermon, but I would rather be seeing youmake a practical application of it. "

"Indeed, that is true, " replied Donald, "and it would not be amiss formore than me to make application of it. "

"Indeed, then, if all reports be true, " replied Peter, "it would be wellfor you to begin at home. "

"Mr. McRae, " said Donald, earnestly, "it is myself that knows wellenough my shortcomings, but if there is any special reason for yourremark, I am not aware of it. "

This light treatment of what to Peter had seemed a grievous offenseagainst all authority incensed the old dominie beyond all endurance. 

"And do you not think that the conduct of your son last week calls forany reproof? And is it you that will stand up and defend it in the faceof the minister and his sermon upon it this day?"

Donald gazed at him a few moments as if he had gone mad. At length hereplied, slowly, "I do not wish to forget that you are an elder of thechurch, Mr. McRae, and I will not be charging you with telling lies onme and my family--"

"Tut, tut, man, " broke in Long John Cameron, seeing how the matterstood; "he's just referring to yon little difference Thomas had with themaster last week. But it's just nothing. Come away in. "

"Thomas?" gasped Donald. "My Thomas?"

"You have not heard, then, " said Peter, in surprise, and old Donald onlyshook his head. 

"Then it's time you did, " replied Peter, severely, "for such things area disgrace to the community. "

"Nonsense!" said Long John. "Not a bit of it! I think none the less ofThomas for it. " But in matters of this kind Long John could hardly becounted an authority, for it was not so very long ago since he had beenbeguiled into an affair at the Scotch River which, while it broughthim laurels at the hands of the younger generation, did not add to hisreputation with the elders of the church. 

It did not help matters much that Murdie Cameron and others of his setproceeded to congratulate old Donald, in their own way, upon his son'sachievement, and with all the more fervor that they perceived that itmoved the solemn Peter to righteous wrath. From one and another the talecame forth with embellishments, till Donald Finch was reduced to such astate of voiceless rage and humiliation that when, at the sound of theopening psalm the congregation moved into the church for the Gaelicservice, the old man departed for his home, trembling, silent, amazed. 

How Thomas could have brought this disgrace upon him, he could notimagine. If it had been William John, who, with all his good nature, hada temper brittle enough, he would not have been surprised. And then theminister's sermon, of which he had spoken in such open and enthusiasticapproval, how it condemned him for his neglect of duty toward hisfamily, and held up his authority over his household to scorn. It was aterrible blow to his pride. 

"It is the Lord's judgment upon me, " he said to himself, as he trampedhis way through the woods. "It is the curse of Eli that is hanging overme and mine. " And with many vows he resolved that, at all costs, hewould do his duty in this crisis and bring Thomas to a sense of hissins. 

It was in this spirit that he met his family at the supper-table, aftertheir return from the Gaelic service. 

"What is this I hear about you, Thomas?" he began, as Thomas came in andtook his place at the table. "What is this I hear about you, sir?" herepeated, making a great effort to maintain a calm and judicial tone. 

Thomas remained silent, partly because he usually found speechdifficult, but chiefly because he dreaded his father's wrath. 

"What is this that has become the talk of the countryside and thedisgrace of my name?" continued the father, in deepening tones. 

"No very great disgrace, surely, " said Billy Jack, lightly, hoping toturn his father's anger. 

"Be you silent, sir!" commanded the old man, sternly. "I will ask foryour opinion when I require it. You and others beside you in this houseneed to learn your places. "

Billy Jack made no reply, fearing to make matters worse, though he foundit hard not to resent this taunt, which he knew well was flung at hismother. 

"I wonder at you, Thomas, after such a sermon as yon. I wonder you areable to sit there unconcerned at this table. I wonder you are not hidingyour head in shame and confusion. " The old man was lashing himself intoa white rage, while Thomas sat looking stolidly before him, his slowtongue finding no words of defense. And indeed, he had little thought ofdefending himself. He was conscious of an acute self-condemnation, andyet, struggling through his slow-moving mind there was a feeling that insome sense he could not define, there was justification for what he haddone. 

"It is not often that Thomas has grieved you, " ventured the mother, timidly, for, with all her courage, she feared her husband when he wasin this mood. 

"Woman, be silent!" blazed forth the old man, as if he had been waitingfor her words. "It is not for you to excuse his wickedness. You are toofond of that work, and your children are reaping the fruits of it. "

Billy Jack looked up quickly as if to answer, but his mother turned herface full upon him and commanded him with steady eyes, giving, herself, no sign of emotion except for a slight tightening of the lips and atouch of color in her face. 

"Your children have well learned their lesson of rebellion and deceit, "continued her husband, allowing his passion a free rein. "But I vow untothe Lord I will put an end to it now, whatever. And I will give youto remember, sir, " turning to Thomas, "to the end of your days, thisoccasion. And now, hence from this table. Let me not see your face tillthe Sabbath is past, and then, if the Lord spares me, I shall deal withyou. "

Thomas hesitated a moment as if he had not quite taken in his father'swords, then, leaving his supper untouched, he rose slowly, and withouta word climbed the ladder to the loft. The mother followed him a momentwith her eyes, and then once more turning to Billy Jack, held him withcalm, steady gaze. Her immediate fear was for her eldest son. Thomas, she knew, would in the mean time simply suffer what might be his lot, but for many a day she had lived in terror of an outbreak betweenher eldest son and her husband. Again Billy Jack caught her look, andcommanded himself to silence. 

"The fire is low, William John, " she said, in a quiet voice. Billy Jackrose, and from the wood-box behind the stove, replenished the fire, reading perfectly his mother's mind, and resolving at all costs to doher will. 

At the taking of the books that night the prayer, which was spoken in atone of awful and almost inaudible solemnity, was for the most part anexaltation of the majesty and righteousness of the government of God, and a lamentation over the wickedness and rebellion of mankind. AndBilly Jack thought it was no good augury that it closed with a petitionfor grace to maintain the honor of that government, and to uphold thatrighteous majesty in all the relations of life. It was a woeful eveningto them all, and as soon as possible the household went miserably tobed. 

Before going to her room the mother slipped up quietly to the loft andfound Thomas lying in his bunk, dressed and awake. He was still puzzlingout his ethical problem. His conscience clearly condemned him for hisfight with the master, and yet, somehow he could not regret having stoodup for Jimmie and taken his punishment. He expected no mercy at hisfather's hands next morning. The punishment he knew would be cruelenough, but it was not the pain that Thomas was dreading; he was dimlystruggling with the sense of outrage, for ever since the moment he hadstood up and uttered his challenge to the master, he had felt himself tobe different. That moment now seemed to belong to the distant yearswhen he was a boy, and now he could not imagine himself submitting toa flogging from any man, and it seemed to him strange and almostimpossible that even his father should lift his hand to him. 

"You are not sleeping, Thomas, " said his mother, going up to his bunk. 

"No, mother. "

"And you have had no supper at all. "

"I don't want any, mother. "

The mother sat silent beside him for a time, and then said, quietly, "You did not tell me, Thomas. "

"No, mother, I didn't like. "

"It would have been better that your father should have heard thisfrom--I mean, should have heard it at home. And--you might have told me, Thomas. "

"Yes, mother, I wish now I had. But, indeed, I can't understand how ithappened. I don't feel as if it was me at all. " And then Thomas told hismother all the tale, finishing his story with the words, "And I couldn'thelp it, mother, at all. "

The mother remained silent for a little, and then, with a little tremorin her voice, she replied: "No, Thomas, I know you couldn't help it, andI--" here her voice quite broke--"I am not ashamed of you. "

"Are you not, mother?" said Thomas, sitting up suddenly in greatsurprise. "Then I don't care. I couldn't make it out well. "

"Never you mind, Thomas, it will be well, " and she leaned over him andkissed him. Thomas felt her face wet with tears, and his stolid reservebroke down. 

"Oh, mother, mother, I don't care now, " he cried, his breath coming ingreat sobs. "I don't care at all. " And he put his arms round his mother, clinging to her as if he had been a child. 

"I know, laddie, I know, " whispered his mother. "Never you fear, neverfear. " And then, as if to herself, she added, "Thank the Lord you arenot a coward, whatever. "

Thomas found himself again without words, but he held his mother fast, his big body shaking with his sobs. 

"And, Thomas, " she continued, after a pause, "your father--we must justbe patient. " All her life long this had been her struggle. "And--and--heis a good man. " Her tears were now flowing fast, and her voice had quitelost its calm. 

Thomas was alarmed and distressed. He had never in all his life seen hismother weep, and rarely had heard her voice break. 

"Don't, mother, " he said, growing suddenly quiet himself. "Don't youmind, mother. It'll be all right, and I'm not afraid. "

"Yes, " she said, rising and regaining her self-control, "it will be allright, Thomas. You go to sleep. " And there were such evident reserves ofstrength behind her voice that Thomas lay down, certain that all wouldbe well. His mother had never failed him. 

The mother went downstairs with the purpose in her heart of having atalk with her husband, but Donald Finch knew her ways well, and hadresolved that he would have no speech with her upon the matter, for heknew that it would be impossible for him to persevere in his intentionto "deal with" Thomas, if he allowed his wife to have any talk with him. 

The morning brought the mother no opportunity of speech with herhusband. He, contrary to his custom, remained until breakfast in hisroom. Outside in the kitchen, he could hear Billy Jack's cheerful tonesand hearty laugh, and it angered him to think that his displeasureshould have so little effect upon his household. If the house hadremained shrouded in gloom, and the family had gone about on tiptoesand with bated breath, it would have shown no more than a properappreciation of the father's displeasure; but as Billy Jack's cheerfulwords and laughter fell upon his ear, he renewed his vows to do his dutythat day in upholding his authority, and bringing to his son a due senseof his sin. 

In grim silence he ate his breakfast, except for a sharp rebuke toBilly Jack, who had been laboring throughout the meal to make cheerfulconversation with Jessac and his mother. At his father's rebuke BillyJack dropped his cheerful tone, and avoiding his mother's eyes, heassumed at once an attitude of open defiance, his tones and wordsplainly offering to his father war, if war he would have. 

"You will come to me in the room after breakfast, " said his father, asThomas rose to go to the stable. 

"There's a meeting of the trustees at nine o'clock at the school-houseat which Thomas must be present, " interposed Billy Jack, in firm, steadytones. 

"He may go when I have done with him, " said his father, angrily, "andmeantime you will attend to your own business. "

"Yes, sir, I will that!" Billy Jack's response came back with fiercepromptness. 

The old man glanced at him, caught the light in his eyes, hesitated amoment, and then, throwing all restraint to the winds, thundered out, "What do you mean, sir?"

"What I say. I am going to attend to my own business, and that soon. "Billy Jack's tone was quick, eager, defiant. 

Again the old man hesitated, and then replied, "Go to it, then. "

"I am going, and I am going to take Thomas to that meeting at nineo'clock. "

"I did not know that you had business there, " said the old man, sarcastically. 

"Then you may know it now, " blazed forth Billy Jack, "for I am going. And as sure as I stand here, I will see that Thomas gets fair play thereif he doesn't at home, if I have to lick every trustee in the section. "

"Hold your peace, sir!" said his father, coming nearer him. "Do not giveme any impertinence, and do not accuse me of unfairness. "

"Have you heard Thomas's side of the story?" returned Billy Jack. 

"I have heard enough, and more than enough. "

"You haven't heard both sides. "

"I know the truth of it, whatever, the shameful and disgraceful truth ofit. I know that the country-side is ringing with it. I know that in thehouse of God the minister held up my family to the scorn of the people. And I vowed to do my duty to my house. "

The old man's passion had risen to such a height that for a momentBilly Jack quailed before it. In the pause that followed the old man'soutburst the mother came to her son. 

"Hush, William John! You are not to forget yourself, nor your duty toyour father and to me. Thomas will receive full justice in this matter. "There was a quiet strength and dignity in her manner that commandedimmediate attention from both men. 

The mother went on in a low, even voice, "Your father has his duty toperform, and you must not take upon yourself to interfere. "

Billy Jack could hardly believe his ears. That his mother should deserthim, and should support what he knew she felt to be injustice andtyranny, was more than he could understand. No less perplexed was herhusband. 

As they stood there looking at each other, uncertain as to the nextstep, there came a knock at the back door. The mother went to open it, pausing on her way to push back some chairs and put the room to rights, thus allowing the family to regain its composure. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Finch. You will be thinking I have slept in yourbarn all night. " It was Long John Cameron. 

"Come away in, Mr. Cameron. It is never too early for friends to come tothis house, " said Mrs. Finch, her voice showing her great relief. 

Long John came in, glanced shrewdly about, and greeted Mr. Finch withgreat heartiness. 

"It's a fine winter day, Mr. Finch, but it looks as if we might have astorm. You are busy with the logs, I hear. "

Old Donald was slowly recovering himself. 

"And a fine lot you are having, " continued Long John. "I was just sayingthe other day that it was wonderful the work you could get through. "

"Indeed, it is hard enough to do anything here, " said Donald Finch, withsome bitterness. 

"You may say so, " responded Long John, cheerfully. "The snow is thatdeep in the bush, and--"

"You were wanting to see me, Mr. Cameron, " interrupted Donald. "I have abusiness on hand which requires attention. "

"Indeed, and so have I. For it is--"

"And indeed, it is just as well you and all should know it, for mydisgrace is well known. "

"Disgrace!" exclaimed Long John. 

"Ay, disgrace. For is it not a disgrace to have the conduct of yourfamily become the occasion of a sermon on the Lord's Day?"

"Indeed, I did not think much of yon sermon, whatever, " replied LongJohn. 

"I cannot agree with you, Mr. Cameron. It was a powerful sermon, and itwas only too sorely needed. But I hope it will not be without profit tomyself. "

"Indeed, it is not the sermon you have much need of, " said Long John, "for every one knows what a--"

"Ay, it is myself that needs it, but with the help of the Lord I will bedoing my duty this morning. "

"And I am very glad to hear that, " replied Long John, "for that is why Iam come. "

"And what may you have to do with it?" asked the old man. 

"As to that, indeed, " replied Long John, coolly, "I am not yet quitesure. But if I might ask without being too bold, what is the particularduty to which you are referring?"

"You may ask, and you and all have a right to know, for I am about tovisit upon my son his sins and shame. "

"And is it meaning to wheep him you are?"

"Ay, " said the old man, and his lips came fiercely together. 

"Indeed, then, you will just do no such thing this morning. "

"And by what right do you interfere in my domestic affairs?" demandedold Donald, with dignity. "Answer me that, Mr. Cameron. "

"Right or no right, " replied Long John, "before any man lays a finger onThomas there, he will need to begin with myself. And, " he added, grimly, "there are not many in the county who would care for that job. "

Old Donald Finch looked at his visitor in speechless amazement. Atlength Long John grew excited. 

"Man alive!" he exclaimed, "it's a quare father you are. You may bethinking it disgrace, but the section will be proud that there is a boyin it brave enough to stand up for the weak against a brute bully. " Andthen he proceeded to tell the tale as he had heard it from Don, withsuch strong passion and such rude vigor, that in spite of himself oldDonald found his rage vanish, and his heart began to move within himtoward his son. 

"And it is for that, " cried Long John, dashing his fist into his openpalm, "it is for that that you would punish your son. May God forgiveme! but the man that lays a finger on Thomas yonder, will come into soregrief this day. Ay, lad, " continued Long John, striding toward Thomasand gripping him by the shoulders with both hands, "you are a man, andyou stood up for the weak yon day, and if you efer will be wanting afriend, remember John Cameron. "

"Well, well, Mr. Cameron, " said old Donald, who was more deeply movedthan he cared to show, "it maybe as you say. It maybe the lad was not somuch in the wrong. "

"In the wrong?" roared Long John, blowing his nose hard. "In the wrong?May my boys ever be in the wrong in such a way!"

"Well, " said old Donald, "we shall see about this. And if Thomas hassuffered injustice it is not his father will refuse to see him righted. "And soon they were all off to the meeting at the school-house. 

Thomas was the last to leave the room. As usual, he had not been ableto find a word, but stood white and trembling, but as he found himselfalone with his mother, once more his stolid reserve broke down, and heburst into a strange and broken cry, "Oh, mother, mother, " but he couldget no further. 

"Never mind, laddie, " said his mother, "you have borne yourself well, and your mother is proud of you. "

At the investigation held in the school-house, it became clear that, though the insubordination of both Jimmie and Thomas was undeniable, theprovocation by the master had been very great. And though the minister, who was superintendent of instruction for the district, insisted thatthe master's authority must, at all costs, be upheld, such was the rageof old Donald Finch and Long John Cameron that the upshot was that themaster took his departure from the section, glad enough to escape withbones unbroken. 

CHAPTER VII

FOXY

After the expulsion of the master, the Twentieth School fell upon evildays, for the trustees decided that it would be better to try "gurl"teachers, as Hughie contemptuously called them; and this policyprevailed for two or three years, with the result that the big boys leftthe school, and with their departure the old heroic age passed away, tobe succeeded by an age soft, law-abiding, and distinctly commercial. 

The spirit of this unheroic age was incarnate in the person of "Foxy"Ross. Foxy got his name, in the first instance, from the peculiar pinkyred shade of hair that crowned his white, fat face, but the name stuckto him as appropriately descriptive of his tricks and his manners. Hisface was large, and smooth, and fat, with wide mouth, and teeth thatglistened when he smiled. His smile was like his face, large, andsmooth, and fat. His eyes, which were light gray--white, Hughie calledthem--were shifty, avoiding the gaze that sought to read them, orpiercingly keen, according as he might choose. 

After the departure of the big boys, Foxy gradually grew in influenceuntil his only rival in the school was Hughie. Foxy's father was thestorekeeper in the Twentieth, and this brought within Foxy's reachpossibilities of influence that gave him an immense advantage overHughie. By means of bull's-eyes and "lickerish" sticks, Foxy could winthe allegiance of all the smaller boys and many of the bigger ones, while with the girls, both big and small, his willingness to pleaseand his smooth manners won from many affection, and from the resttoleration, although Betsy Dan Campbell asserted that whenever Foxy Rosscame near her she felt something creeping up her backbone. 

With the teacher, too, Foxy was a great favorite. He gave her worshipfulreverence and many gifts from his father's store, eloquent of hisdevotion. He was never detected in mischief, and was always ready toexpose the misdemeanors of the other boys. Thus it came that Foxy wasthe paramount influence within the school. 

Outside, his only rival was Hughie, and at times Hughie's rivalry becamedangerous. In all games that called for skill, activity, and recklessdaring, Hughie was easily leader. In "Old Sow, " "Prisoner's Base, "but especially in the ancient and noble game of "Shinny, " Hughie shonepeerless and supreme. Foxy hated games, and shinny, the joy of thosegiants of old, who had torn victory from the Sixteenth, and even fromthe Front one glorious year, was at once Foxy's disgust and terror. Asa little boy, he could not for the life of him avoid turning his back towait shuddering, with humping shoulders, for the enemy's charge, and inanything like a melee, he could not help jumping into the air at everydangerous stroke. 

And thus he brought upon himself the contempt even of boys much smallerthan himself, who, under the splendid and heroic example of those wholed them, had only one ambition, to get a whack at the ball, andthis ambition they gratified on every possible occasion reckless ofconsequences. Hence, when the last of the big boys, Thomas Finch, against whose solid mass hosts had flung themselves to destruction, finally left the school, Foxy, with great skill, managed to divert theenergies of the boys to games less violent and dangerous, and by meansof his bull's-eyes and his liquorice, and his large, fat smile, he drewafter him a very considerable following of both girls and boys. 

The most interesting and most successful of Foxy's schemes was the gameof "store, " which he introduced, Foxy himself being the storekeeper. Hehad the trader's genius for discovering and catering to the weaknessesof people, and hence his store became, for certain days of the week, the center of life during the recreation hours. The store itself was asomewhat pretentious successor to the little brush cabin with wide openfront, where in the old days the boys used to gather, and lying uponpiles of fragrant balsam boughs before the big blazing fire placed infront, used to listen to the master talk, and occasionally read. 

Foxy's store was built of slabs covered with thick brush, and set offwith a plank counter and shelves, whereon were displayed his wares. His stock was never too large for his personal transportation, but itsvariety was almost infinite, bull's-eyes and liquorice, maple sugarand other "sweeties, " were staples. Then, too, there were balls of gum, beautifully clear, which in its raw state Foxy gathered from the endsof the pine logs at the sawmill, and which, by a process of boiling andclarifying known only to himself, he brought to a marvelous perfection. 

But Foxy's genius did not confine itself to sweets. He would buy andsell and "swap" anything, but in swapping no bargain was ever completedunless there was money for Foxy in the deal. He had goods second-handand new, fish-hooks and marbles, pot-metal knives with brass handles, slate-pencils that would "break square, " which were greatly desired byall, skate-straps, and buckskin whangs. 

But Foxy's financial ability never displayed itself with more brilliancythan when he organized the various games of the school so as to havethem begin and end with the store. When the river and pond were coveredwith clear, black ice, skating would be the rage, and then Foxy's storewould be hung with skate-straps, and with cedar-bark torches, whichwere greatly in demand for the skating parties that thronged the pondat night. There were no torches like Foxy's. The dry cedar bark any onecould get from the fences, but Foxy's torches were always well soakedin oil and bound with wire, and were prepared with such excellent skillthat they always burned brighter and held together longer than anyothers. These cedar-bark torches Foxy disposed of to the larger boyswho came down to the pond at night. Foxy's methods of finance wereundoubtedly marked by ability, and inasmuch as his accounts were neveraudited, the profits were large and sure. He made it a point to purchasea certain proportion of his supplies from his father, who was proud ofhis son's financial ability, but whether his purchases always equaledhis sales no one ever knew. 

If the pond and river were covered with snow, then Foxy would organizea deer-hunt, when all the old pistols in the section would be broughtforth, and the store would display a supply of gun caps, by theexplosion of which deadly ammunition the deer would be dropped in theirtracks, and drawn to the store by prancing steeds whose trappings hadbeen purchased from Foxy. 

When the interest in the deer-hunt began to show signs of waning, Foxywould bring forth a supply of gunpowder, for the purchase of whichany boy who owned a pistol would be ready to bankrupt himself. Inthis Hughie took a leading part, although he had to depend upon thegenerosity of others for the thrilling excitement of bringing down hisdeer with a pistol-shot, for Hughie had never been able to save coppersenough to purchase a pistol of his own. 

But deer-hunting with pistols was forbidden by the teacher from the daywhen Hughie, in his eagerness to bring his quarry down, left his ramrodin his pistol, and firing at Aleck Dan Campbell at point-blank range, laid him low with a lump on the side of his head as big as a marble. Theonly thing that saved Aleck's life, the teacher declared, was histhick crop of black hair. Foxy was in great wrath at Hughie for hisrecklessness, which laid the deer-hunting under the teacher's ban, andwhich interfered seriously with the profits of the store. 

But Foxy was far too great a man to allow himself to be checked by anysuch misfortune as this. He was far too astute to attempt to defy theteacher and carry on the forbidden game, but with great ability headapted the principles of deer-hunting to a game even more exciting andprofitable. He organized the game of "Injuns, " some of the boys beingset apart as settlers who were to defend the fort, of which the storewas the center, the rest to constitute the invading force of savages. 

The result was, that the trade in caps and gunpowder was brisker thanever, for not only was the powder needed for the pistols, but evenlarger quantities were necessary for the slow-matches which hissed theirwrath at the approaching enemy, and the mounted guns, for which earthenink-bottles did excellently, set out on a big stump to explode, to thedestruction of scores of creeping redskins advancing through the bush, who, after being mutilated and mangled by these terrible explosions, were dragged into the camp and scalped. Foxy's success was phenomenal. The few pennies and fewer half-dimes and dimes that the boys had hoardedfor many long weeks would soon have been exhausted had Hughie notwrecked the game. 

Hughie alone had no fear of Foxy, but despised him utterly. He had stoodand yelled when those heroes of old, Murdie and Don Cameron, Curly Ross, and Ranald Macdonald, and last but not to be despised Thomas Finch, haddone battle with the enemy from the Sixteenth or the Front, and he couldnot bring himself to acknowledge the leadership of Foxy Ross, forall his bull's-eyes and liquorice. Not but what Hughie yearned forbull's-eyes and liquorice with great yearning, but these could not atoneto him for the loss out of his life of the stir and rush and daring ofthe old fighting days. And it galled him that the boys of the Sixteenthcould flout the boys of the Twentieth in all places and on all occasionswith impunity. 

But above all, it seemed to him a standing disgrace that the habitantteamsters from the north, who in former days found it a necessary andwise precaution to put their horses to a gallop as they passed theschool, in order to escape with sleighs intact from the hordes thatlined the roadway, now drove slowly past the very gate without anapparent tremor. But besides all this, he had an instinctive shrinkingfrom Foxy, and sympathized with Betsy Dan in her creepy feeling wheneverhe approached. Hence he refused allegiance, and drew upon himself Foxy'sjealous hatred. 

It was one of Foxy's few errors in judgment that, from his desire tohumiliate Hughie and to bring him to a proper state of subjection, he succeeded in shutting him out from the leadership in the gameof "Injuns, " for Hughie promptly refused a subordinate position andwithdrew, like Achilles, to his tent. But, unlike Achilles, though hesulked, he sulked actively, and to some purpose, for, drawing off withhim his two faithful henchmen, "Fusie"--neither Hughie nor any one elseever knew another name for the little French boy who had drifted intothe settlement and made his home with the MacLeods--and Davie "Scotch, "a cousin of Davie MacDougall, newly arrived from Scotland, he placedthem in positions which commanded the store entrance, and waited untilthe settlers had all departed upon their expedition against the invadingIndians. Foxy, with one or two smaller boys, was left in charge of thestore waiting for trade. 

In a few moments Foxy's head appeared at the door, when, whiz! asnowball skinned his ear and flattened itself with a bang against theslabs. 

"Hold on there! Stop that! You're too close up, " shouted Foxy, thinkingthat the invaders were breaking the rules of the game. 

Bang! a snowball from another quarter caught him fair in the neck. 

"Here, you fools, you! Stop that!" cried Foxy, turning in the directionwhence the snowball came and dodging round to the side of the store. But this was Hughie's point of attack, and soon Foxy found that the onlyplace of refuge was inside, whither he fled, closing the door after him. Immediately the door became a target for the hidden foe. 

Meantime, the Indian war was progressing, but now and again a settlerwould return to the fort for ammunition, and the moment he reached thedoor a volley of snowballs would catch him and hasten his entrance. Oncein it was dangerous to come out. 

By degrees Hughie augmented his besieging force from the moreadventurous settlers and Indians, and placed them in the bushsurrounding the door. 

The war game was demoralized, but the new game proved so much moreinteresting that it was taken up with enthusiasm and prosecuted withvigor. It was rare sport. For the whole noon hour Hughie and hisbombarding force kept Foxy and his friends in close confinement, fromwhich they were relieved only by the ringing of the school bell, for atthe sound of the bell Hughie and his men, having had their game, fledfrom Foxy's wrath to the shelter of the school. 

When Foxy appeared it was discovered that one eye was half shut, but thelight that gleamed from the other was sufficiently baleful to give tokenof the wrath blazing within, and Hughie was not a little anxious to knowwhat form Foxy's vengeance would take. But to his surprise, by the timerecess had come Foxy's wrath had apparently vanished, and he was willingto treat Hughie's exploit in the light of a joke. The truth was, Foxynever allowed passion to interfere with business, and hence he resolvedthat he must swallow his rage, for he realized clearly that Hughiewas far too dangerous as a foe, and that he might become exceedinglyvaluable as an ally. Within a week Hughie was Foxy's partner inbusiness, enjoying hugely the privilege of dispensing the store goods, with certain perquisites that naturally attached to him as storekeeper. 

CHAPTER VIII

FOXY'S PARTNER

It was an evil day for Hughie when he made friends with Foxy and becamehis partner in the store business, for Hughie's hoardings were neverlarge, and after buying a Christmas present for his mother, accordingto his unfailing custom, they were reduced to a very few pennies indeed. The opportunities for investment in his new position were many andalluring. But all Hughie's soul went out in longing for a pistol whichFoxy had among his goods, and which would fire not only caps, but powderand ball, and his longing was sensibly increased by Foxy generouslyallowing him to try the pistol, first at a mark, which Hughie hit, andthen at a red squirrel, which he missed. By day Hughie yearned for thispistol, by night he dreamed of it, but how he might secure it for hisown he did not know. 

Upon this point he felt he could not consult his mother, his usualcounselor, for he had an instinctive feeling that she would not approveof his having a pistol in his possession; and as for his father, Hughieknew he would soon make "short work of any such folly. " What would achild like Hughie do with a pistol? He had never had a pistol in all hislife. It was difficult for the minister to realize that young Canada wasa new type, and he would have been more than surprised had any one toldhim that already Hughie, although only twelve, was an expert with a gun, having for many a Saturday during the long, sunny fall roamed the woods, at first in company with Don, and afterwards with Don's gun alone, orfollowed by Fusie or Davie Scotch. There was thus no help for Hughie athome. The price of the pistol reduced to the lowest possible sum, wastwo dollars and a half, which Foxy declared was only half what he wouldcharge any one else but his partner. 

"How much have you got altogether?" he asked Hughie one day, when Hughiewas groaning over his poverty. 

"Six pennies and two dimes, " was Hughie's disconsolate reply. He hadoften counted them over. "Of course, " he went on, "there's my XL knife. That's worth a lot, only the point of the big blade's broken. "

"Huh!" grunted Foxy, "there's jist the stub left. "

"It's not!" said Hughie, indignantly. "It's more than half, then. Andit's bully good stuff, too. It'll nick any knife in the school"; andHughie dived into his pocket and pulled out his knife with a handful ofboy's treasures. 

"Hullo!" said Foxy, snatching a half-dollar from Hughie's hand, "whoseis that?"

"Here, you, give me that! That's not mine, " cried Hughie. 

"Whose is it, then?"

"I don't know. I guess it's mother's. I found it on the kitchen floor, and I know it's mother's. "

"How do you know?"

"I know well enough. She often puts money on the window, and it felldown. Give me that, I tell you!" Hughie's eyes were blazing dangerously, and Foxy handed back the half-dollar. 

"O, all right. You're a pretty big fool, " he said, indifferently. "'Losers seekers, finders keepers. ' That's my rule. "

Hughie was silent, holding his precious half-dollar in his hand, deep inhis pocket. 

"Say, " said Foxy, changing the subject, "I guess you had better pay upfor your powder and caps you've been firing. "

"I haven't been firing much, " said Hughie, confidently. 

"Well, you've been firing pretty steady for three weeks. "

"Three weeks! It isn't three weeks. "

"It is. There's this week, and last week when the ink-bottle bust toosoon and burnt Fusie's eyebrows, and the week before when you shot AleckDan, and it was the week before that you began, and that'll make itfour. "

"How much?" asked Hughie, desperately, resolved to know the worst. 

Foxy had been preparing for this. He took down a slate-pencil box with asliding lid, and drew out a bundle of crumbled slips which Hughie, withsinking heart, recognized as his own vouchers. 

"Sixteen pennies. " Foxy had taken care of this part of the business. 

"Sixteen!" exclaimed Hughie, snatching up the bunch. 

"Count them yourself, " said Foxy, calmly, knowing well he could count onHughie's honesty. 

"Seventeen, " said Hughie, hopelessly. 

"But one of those I didn't count, " said Foxy, generously. "That's theone I gave you to try at the first. Now, I tell you, " went on Foxy, insinuatingly, "you have got how much at home?" he inquired. 

"Six pennies and two dimes. " Hughie's tone indicated despair. 

"You've got six pennies and two dimes. Six pennies and two dimes. That'stwenty--that's thirty-two cents. Now if you paid me that thirty-twocents, and if you could get a half-dollar anywhere, that would beeighty-two. I tell you what I would do. I would let you have that pistolfor only one dollar more. That ain't much, " he said. 

"Only a dollar more, " said Hughie, calculating rapidly. "But where wouldI get the fifty cents?" The dollar seemed at that moment to Hughie quitea possible thing, if only the fifty cents could be got. The dollar wasmore remote, and therefore less pressing. 

Foxy had an inspiration. 

"I tell you what. You borrow that fifty cents you found, and then youcan pay me eighty-two cents, and--and--" he hesitated--"perhaps you willfind some more, or something. "

Hughie's eyes were blazing with great fierceness. 

Foxy hastened to add, "And I'll let you have the pistol right off, andyou'll pay me again some time when you can, the other dollar. "

Hughie checked the indignant answer that was at his lips. To have thepistol as his own, to take home with him at night, and to keep allSaturday--the temptation was great, and coming suddenly upon Hughie, was too much for him. He would surely, somehow, soon pay back the fiftycents, he argued, and Foxy would wait for the dollar. And yet thathalf-dollar was not his, but his mother's, and more than that, if heasked her for it, he was pretty sure she would refuse. But then, hedoubted his mother's judgment as to his ability to use firearms, andbesides, this pistol at that price was a great bargain, and any of theboys might pick it up. Poor Hughie! He did not know how ancient was thatargument, nor how frequently it had done duty in smoothing the descentto the lower regions. The pistol was good to look at, the opportunityof securing it was such as might not occur again, and as for thehalf-dollar, there could be no harm in borrowing that for a littlewhile. 

That was Foxy's day of triumph, but to Hughie it was the beginning ofmany woeful days and nights. And his misery came upon him swift andsure, in the very moment that he turned in from the road at the mansegate, for he knew that at the end of the lane would be his mother, andhis winged feet, upon which he usually flew from the gate home, draggedheavily. 

He found his mother, not at the door, but in the large, pleasantliving-room, which did for all kinds of rooms in the manse. It wasdining-room and sewing-room, nursery and playroom, but it was alwaysa good room to enter, and in spite of playthings strewn about, orsnippings of cloth, or other stour, it was always a place of brightnessand of peace, for it was there the mother was most frequently to befound. This evening she was at the sewing-machine busy with Hughie'sSunday clothes, with the baby asleep in the cradle beside her in spiteof the din of the flying wheels, and little Robbie helping to pullthrough the long seam. Hughie shrank from the warm, bright, lovingatmosphere that seemed to fill the room, hating to go in, but in amoment he realized that he must "make believe" with his mother, and thepain of it and the shame of it startled and amazed him. He was glad thathis mother did not notice him enter, and by the time he had put awayhis books he had braced himself to meet her bright smile and her welcomekiss. 

The mother did not apparently notice his hesitation. 

"Well, my boy, home again?" she cried, holding out her hand to him withthe air of good comradeship she always wore with him. "Are you veryhungry?"

"You bet!" said Hughie, kissing her, and glad of the chance to get away. 

"Well, you will find something pretty nice in the pantry we saved foryou. Guess what. "

"Don't know. "

"I know, " shouted Robbie. "Pie! It's muzzie's pie. Muzzie tept it for'oo. "

"Now, Robbie, you were not to tell, " said his mother, shaking her fingerat him. 

"O-o-o, I fordot, " said Robbie, horrified at his failure to keep hispromise. 

"Never mind. That's a lesson you will have to learn many times, how tokeep those little lips shut. And the pie will be just as good. "

"Thank you, mother, " said Hughie. "But I don't want your pie. "

"My pie!" said the mother. "Pie isn't good for old women. "

"Old women!" said Hughie, indignantly. "You're the youngest andprettiest woman in the congregation, " he cried, and forgetting for themoment his sense of meanness, he threw his arms round his mother. 

"Oh, Hughie, shame on you! What a dreadful flatterer you are!" said hismother. "Now, run away to your pie, and then to your evening work, myboy, and we will have a good lesson together after supper. "

Hughie ran away, glad to get out of her presence, and seizing the pie, carried it out to the barn and hurled it far into the snow. He felt surethat a single bite of it would choke him. 

If he could only have seen Foxy any time for the next hour, how gladlywould he have given him back his pistol, but by the time he had fedhis cow and the horses, split the wood and carried it in, and preparedkindling for the morning's fires, he had become accustomed to his newself, and had learned his first lesson in keeping his emotions out ofhis face. But from that night, and through all the long weeks of thebreaking winter, when games in the woods were impossible by reasonof the snow and water, and when the roads were deep with mud, Hughiecarried his burden with him, till life was one long weariness and dread. 

And through these days he was Foxy's slave. A pistol without ammunitionwas quite useless. Foxy's stock was near at hand. It was easy to write avoucher for a penny's worth of powder or caps, and consequently the pilein Foxy's pencil-box steadily mounted till Hughie was afraid to look atit. His chance of being free from his own conscience was still remoteenough. 

During these days, too, Foxy reveled in his power over his rival, andground his slave in bitter bondage, subjecting him to such humiliationas made the school wonder and Hughie writhe; and if ever Hughie showedany sign of resentment or rebellion, Foxy could tame him to grovelingsubmission by a single word. "Well, I guess I'll go down to-night to seeyour mother, " was all he needed to say to make Hughie grovel again. For with Hughie it was not the fear of his father's wrath and heavypunishment, though that was terrible enough, but the dread that hismother should know, that made him grovel before his tyrant, and wake atnight in a cold sweat. His mother's tender anxiety for his pale face andgloomy looks only added to the misery of his heart. 

He had no one in whom he could confide. He could not tell any of theboys, for he was unwilling to lose their esteem, besides, it was noneof their business; he was terrified of his father's wrath, and from hismother, his usual and unfailing resort in every trouble of his wholelife, he was now separated by his terrible secret. 

Then Foxy began to insist upon payment of his debts. Spring was at hand, the store would soon be closed up, for business was slack in the summer, and besides, Foxy had other use for his money. 

"Haven't you got any money at all in your house?" Foxy sneered one day, when Hughie was declaring his inability to meet his debts. 

"Of course we have, " cried Hughie, indignantly. 

"Don't believe it, " said Foxy, contemptuously. 

"Father's drawer is sometimes full of dimes and half-dimes. At least, there's an awful lot on Mondays, from the collections, you know, " saidHughie. 

"Well, then, you had better get some for me, somehow, " said Foxy. "Youmight borrow some from the drawer for a little while. "

"That would be stealing, " said Hughie. 

"You wouldn't mean to keep it, " said Foxy. "You would only take it for awhile. It would just be borrowing. "

"It wouldn't, " said Hughie, firmly. "It's taking out of his drawer. It'sstealing, and I won't steal. "

"Huh! you're mighty good all at once. What about that half-dollar?"

"You said yourself that wasn't stealing, " said Hughie, passionately. 

"Well, what's the difference? You said it was your mother's, and this isyour father's. It's all the same, except that you're afraid to take yourfather's. "

"I'm not afraid. At least it isn't that. But it's different to takemoney out of a drawer, that isn't your own. "

"Huh! Mighty lot of difference! Money's money, wherever it is. Besides, if you borrowed this from your father, you could pay back your motherand me. You would pay the whole thing right off. "

Once more Hughie argued with himself. To be free from Foxy's hatefultyranny, and to be clear again with his mother--for that he would bewilling to suffer almost anything. But to take money out of that drawerwas awfully like stealing. Of course he would pay it back, and after allit would only be borrowing. Besides, it would enable him to repay whathe owed to his mother and to Foxy. Through all the mazes of speciousargument Hughie worked his way, arriving at no conclusion, except thathe carried with him a feeling that if he could by some means get thatmoney out of the drawer in a way that would not be stealing, it would bea vast relief, greater than words could tell. 

That night brought him the opportunity. His father and mother were awayat the prayer meeting. There was only Jessie left in the house, and shewas busy with the younger children. With the firm resolve that he wouldnot take a single half-dime from his father's drawer, he went into thestudy. He would like to see if the drawer were open. Yes, it was open, and the Sabbath's collection lay there with all its shining invitation. He tried making up the dollar and a half out of the dimes andhalf-dimes. What a lot of half-dimes it took! But when he used thequarters and dimes, how much smaller the piles were. Only two quartersand five dimes made up the dollar, and the pile in the drawer lookedpretty much the same as before. Another quarter-dollar withdrawn fromthe drawer made little difference. He looked at the little heaps onthe table. He believed he could make Foxy take that for his whole debt, though he was sure he owed him more. Perhaps he had better make certain. He transferred two more dimes and a half-dime from the drawer to thetable. It was an insignificant little heap. That would certainly clearoff his whole indebtedness and make him a free man. 

He slipped the little heaps of money from the table into his pocket, andthen suddenly he realized that he had never decided to take the money. The last resolve he could remember making was simply to see how thedollar and a half looked. Without noticing, he had passed the point offinal decision. Alas! like many another, Hughie found the going easy andthe slipping smooth upon the down incline. Unconsciously he had slippedinto being a thief. 

Now he could not go back. His absorbing purpose was concealment. Quietlyshutting the drawer, he was slipping hurriedly up to his own room, whenon the stairway he met Jessie. 

"What are you doing here, Jessie?" he asked, sharply. 

"Putting Robbie off to bed, " said Jessie, in surprise. "What's thematter with you?"

"What's the matter?" echoed Hughie, smitten with horrible fear thatperhaps she knew. "I just wanted to know, " he said, weakly. 

He slipped past her, holding his pocket tight lest the coins shouldrattle. When he reached his room he stood listening in the dark toJessie going down the stairs. He was sure she suspected something. He would go back and put the money in the drawer again, whenever shereached the kitchen. He stood there with his heart-beats filling hisears, waiting for the kitchen door to slam. 

Then he resolved he would wrap the money up in paper and put it safelyaway, and go down and see if Jessie knew. He found one of his oldcopybooks, and began tearing out a leaf. What a noise it made! Robbiewould surely wake up, and then Jessie would come back with the light. Heput the copy-book under the quilt, and holding it down firmly with onehand, removed the leaf with the other. With great care he wrapped up thedimes and half-dimes by themselves. They fitted better together. Thenhe took up the quarters, and was proceeding to fold them in a similarparcel, when he heard Jessie's voice from below. 

"Hughie, what are you doing?" She was coming up the stair. 

He jumped from the bed to go to meet her. A quarter fell on the floorand rolled under the bed. It seemed to Hughie as if it would never stoprolling, and as if Jessie must hear it. Wildly he scrambled on thefloor in the dark, seeking for the quarter, while Jessie came nearer andnearer. 

"Are you going to bed already, Hughie?" she asked. 

Quickly Hughie went out to the hall to meet her. 

"Yes, " he yawned, gratefully seizing upon her suggestion. "I'm awfullysleepy. Give me the candle, Jessie, " he said, snatching it from herhand. "I want to go downstairs. "

"Hughie, you are very rude. What would your mother say? Let me have thecandle immediately, I want to get Robbie's stockings. "

Hughie's heart stood still. 

"I'll throw them down, Jessie. I want the candle downstairs just aminute. "

"Leave that candle with me, " insisted Jessie. "There's another on thedining-room table you can get. "

"I'll not be a minute, " said Hughie, hurrying downstairs. "You comedown, Jessie, I want to ask you something. I'll throw you Robbie'sstockings. "

"Come back here, the rude boy that you are, " said Jessie, crossly, "andbring me that candle. "

There was no reply. Hughie was standing, pale and shaking, in thedining-room, listening intently for Jessie's step. Would she go into hisroom, or would she come down? Every moment increased the agony of hisfear. 

At length, with a happy inspiration, he went to the cupboard, opened thedoor noisily, and began rattling the dishes. 

"Mercy me!" he heard Jessie exclaim at the top of the stair. "That boywill be my death. Hughie, " she called, "just shut that cupboard! Youknow your mother doesn't like you to go in there. "

"I only want a little, " called out Hughie, still moving the dishes, andhearing, to his great relief, Jessie's descending step. In desperationhe seized a dish of black currant preserves which he found on thecupboard shelf, and spilled it over the dishes and upon the floor justas Jessie entered the room. 

"Land sakes alive, boy! Will you never be done your mischief?" shecried, rushing toward him. 

"Oh!" he said, "I spilt it. "

"Spilt it!" echoed Jessie, indignantly, "you needn't be telling me that. Bring me a cloth from the kitchen. "

"I don't know where it is, Jessie, " cried Hughie, slipping upstairsagain with his candle. 

To his great relief he saw that Jessie's attention was so entirely takenup with removing the stains of the preserves from the cupboard shelvesand dishes, that she for the moment forgot everything else, Robbie'sstockings included. 

Hurrying to his room, and shading the candle with his hand lest thelight should waken his little brother, he hastily seized the money uponthe bed quilt, and after a few moments' searching under the bed, foundthe strayed quarter. 

With these in his hand he passed into his mother's room. Leaving thecandle there, he came back to the head of the stairs and listened fora moment, with great satisfaction, to Jessie muttering to herself whileshe cleaned up the mess he had made. Then he turned, and with tremblingfingers he swiftly made up the quarter-dollars into another parcel. Witha great sigh of relief he put the two parcels in his pocket, and seizinghis candle turned to leave the room. As he did so, he caught sight ofhimself in the glass. With a great shock of surprise he stood gazing atthe terrified, white face, with the staring eyes. 

"What a fool I am!" he said, looking at himself in the glass. "Nobodywill know, and I'll pay this back soon. "

His eyes wandered to a picture which stood on a little shelf beside theglass. It was a picture of his mother, the one he loved best of all hehad ever seen of her. 

There was a sudden stab of pain at his heart, his breath came in a greatsob. For a moment he looked into the eyes that looked back at him sofull of love and reproach. 

"I won't do it, " he said, grinding his teeth hard, and forthwith turnedto go to his father's study. 

But as he left the room he saw Jessie half-way up the stairs. 

"What are you doing now?" she cried, wrathfully. "Up to some mischief, Idoubt. "

With a sudden, inexplicable rage, Hughie turned toward her. 

"It's none of your business! You mind your own business, will you, andleave me alone. " The terrible emotions of the last few minutes were atthe back of his rage. 

"Just wait, you, " said Jessie, "till your mother comes. Then you'll hearit. "

"You shut your mouth!" cried Hughie, his passion sweeping his wholebeing like a tempest. "You shut your mouth, you old cat, or I'll throwthis candle at you. " He raised the candle high in his hand as he spoke, and altogether looked so desperate that Jessie stood in terror lest heshould make good his threat. 

"Stop, now, Hughie, " she entreated. "You will be setting the house onfire. "

Hughie hesitated a moment, and then turned from her, and going into hisroom, banged the door in her face, and Jessie, not knowing what to makeof it all, went slowly downstairs again, forgetting once more Robbie'sstockings. 

"The old cat!" said Hughie to himself. "She just stopped me. I was goingto put it back. "

The memory that he had resolved to undo his wrong brought him a curioussense of relief. 

"I was just going to put it back, " he said, "when she had to interfere. "

He was conscious of a sense of injury against Jessie. It was not hisfault that that money was not now in the drawer. 

"I'll put it back in the morning, anyhow, " he said, firmly. But even ashe spoke he was conscious of an infinality in his determination, whilehe refused to acknowledge to himself a secret purpose to leave thequestion open till the morning. But this determination, inconclusivethough it was, brought him a certain calm of mind, so that when hismother came into his room she found him sound asleep. 

She stood beside his bed looking down upon him for a few moments, withface full of anxious sadness. 

"There's something wrong with the boy, " she said to herself, stooping tokiss him. "There's something wrong with him, " she repeated, as she leftthe room. "He's not the same. "

During these weeks she had been conscious that Hughie had changed insome way to her. The old, full, frank confidence was gone. There wasa constraint in his manner she could not explain. "He is no longera child, " she would say to herself, seeking to allay the pain in herheart. "A boy must have his secrets. It is foolish in me to thinkanything else. Besides, he is not well. He is growing too fast. " Andindeed, Hughie's pale, miserable face gave ground enough for thisopinion. 

"That boy is not well, " she said to her husband. 

"Which boy?"

"Hughie, " she replied. "He is looking miserable, and somehow he isdifferent. "

"Oh, nonsense! He eats well enough, and sleeps well enough, " said herhusband, making light of her fears. 

"There's something wrong, " repeated his wife. "And he hates his school. "

"Well, I don't wonder at that, " said her husband, sharply. "I don't seehow any boy of spirit could take much pleasure in that kind of a school. The boys are just wasting their time, and worse than that, they havelost all the old spirit. I must see to it that the policy of thoseclose-fisted trustees is changed. I am not going to put up with thosechits of girls teaching any longer. "

"There may be something in what you say, " said his wife, sadly, "butcertainly Hughie is always begging to stay at home from school. "

"And indeed, he might as well stay home, " answered her husband, "for allthe good he gets. "

"I do wish we had a good man in charge, " replied his wife, with a greatsigh. "It is very important that these boys should have a good, strongman over them. How much it means to a boy at Hughie's time of life! Butso few are willing to come away into the backwoods here for so small asalary. "

Suddenly her husband laid down his pipe. 

"I have it!" he exclaimed. "The very thing! Wouldn't this be the verything for young Craven. You remember, the young man that ProfessorMacLauchlan was writing about. "

His wife shook her head very decidedly. 

"Not at all, " she said. "Didn't Professor MacLauchlan say he wasdissipated?"

"O, just a little wild. Got going with some loose companions. Out herethere would be no temptation. "

"I am not at all sure of that, " said his wife, "and I would not likeHughie to be under his influence. "

"MacLauchlan says he is a young man of fine disposition and of fineparts, " argued her husband, "and if temptation were removed from him hebelieves he would turn out a good man. "

Mrs. Murray shook her head doubtfully. "He is not the man to put Hughieunder just now. "

"What are we to do with Hughie?" replied her husband. "He is getting nogood in the school as it is, and we cannot send him away yet. "

"Send him away!" exclaimed his wife. "No, no, not a child like that. "

"Craven might be a very good man, " continued her husband. "He mightperhaps live with us. I know you have more than enough to do now, " headded, answering her look of dismay, "but he would be a great help toHughie with his lessons, and might start him in his classics. And then, who knows what you might make of the young man. "

Mrs. Murray did not respond to her husband's smile, but only replied, "I am sure I wish I knew what is the matter with the boy, and I wish hecould leave school for a while. "

"O, the boy is all right, " said her husband, impatiently. "Only a littleless noisy, as far as I can see. "

"No, he is not the same, " replied his wife. "He is different to me. "There was almost a cry of pain in her voice. 

"Now, now, don't imagine things. Boys are full of notions at Hughie'sage. He may need a change, but that is all. "

With this the mother tried to quiet the tumult of anxious fear and painshe found rising in her heart, but long after the house was still, andwhile both her boy and his father lay asleep, she kept pouring forththat ancient sacrifice of self-effacing love before the feet of God. 

CHAPTER IX

HUGHIE'S EMANCIPATION

Hughie rose late next morning, and the hurry and rush of getting off toschool in time left him no opportunity to get rid of the little packagesin his pocket, that seemed to burn and sting him through his clothes. Hedetermined to keep them safe in his pocket all day and put them back inthe drawer at night. His mother's face, white with her long watching, and sad and anxious in spite of its brave smile, filled him with suchan agony of remorse that, hurrying through his breakfast, he snatched afarewell kiss, and then tore away down the lane lest he should be forcedto confess all his terrible secret. 

The first person who met him in the school-yard was Foxy. 

"Have you got that?" was his salutation. 

A sudden fury possessed Hughie. 

"Yes, you red-headed, sneaking fox, " he answered, "and I hope it willbring you the curse of luck, anyway. "

Foxy hurried him cautiously behind the school, with difficultyconcealing his delight while Hughie unrolled his little bundles andcounted out the quarters and dimes and half dimes into his hand. 

"There's a dollar, and there's a quarter, and--and--there's another, " headded, desperately, "and God may kill me on the spot if I give you anymore!"

"All right, Hughie, " said Foxy, soothingly, putting the money into hispocket. "You needn't be so mad about it. You bought the pistol and therest right enough, didn't you?"

"I know I did, but--but you made me, you big, sneaking thief--and thenyou--" Hughie's voice broke in his rage. His face was pale, and hisblack eyes were glittering with fierce fury, and in his heart he wasconscious of a wild longing to fall upon Foxy and tear him to pieces. And Foxy, big and tall as he was, glanced at Hughie's face, and sayingnot a word, turned and fled to the front of the school where the otherboys were. 

Hughie followed slowly, his heart still swelling with furious rage, andfull of an eager desire to be at Foxy's smiling, fat face. 

At the school door stood Miss Morrison, the teacher, smiling downupon Foxy, who was looking up at her with an expression of such sweetinnocence that Hughie groaned out between his clenched teeth, "Oh, youred-headed devil, you! Some day I'll make you smile out of the otherside of your big, fat mouth. "

"Who are you swearing at?" It was Fusie. 

"Oh, Fusie, " cried Hughie, "let's get Davie and get into the woods. I'mnot going in to-day. I hate the beastly place, and the whole gang ofthem. "

Fusie, the little, harum-scarum French waif was ready for anything inthe way of adventure. To him anything was better than the even monotonyof the school routine. True, it might mean a whipping both from theteacher and from Mrs. McLeod; but as to the teacher's whipping, Fusiewas prepared to stand that for a free day in the woods, and as to theother, Fusie declared that Mrs. McLeod's whipping "wouldn't hurt askeeter. "

To Davie Scotch, however, playing truant was a serious matter. He hadbeen reared in an atmosphere of reverence for established law and order, but when Hughie gave command, to Davie there seemed nothing for it butto obey. 

The three boys watched till the school was called, and then crawlingalong on their stomachs behind the heavy cedar-log fence, they slippedinto the balsam thicket at the edge of the woods and were safe. Herethey flung down their schoolbags, and lying prone upon the fragrant bedof pine-needles strewn thickly upon the moss, they peered out throughthe balsam boughs at the house of their bondage with an exultant senseof freedom and a feeling of pity, if not of contempt, for the unhappyand spiritless creatures who were content to be penned inside any houseon such a day as this, and with such a world outside. 

For some minutes they rolled about upon the soft moss and balsam-needlesand the brown leaves of last year, till their hearts were running overwith a deep and satisfying delight. It is hard to resist the ministry ofthe woods. The sympathetic silence of the trees, the aromatic airsthat breathe through the shady spaces, the soft mingling of brokenlights--these all combine to lay upon the spirit a soothing balm, andbring to the heart peace. And Hughie, sensitive at every pore to thatsoothing ministry, before long forgot for a time even Foxy, with hisfat, white face and smiling mouth, and lying on the broad of his back, and looking up at the far-away blue sky through the interlacing branchesand leaves, he began to feel again that it was good to be alive, andthat with all his misery there were compensations. 

But any lengthened period of peaceful calm is not for boys of the ageand spirit of Hughie and his companions. 

"What are you going to do?" asked Fusie, the man of adventure. 

"Do nothing, " said Hughie from his supine position. "This is good enoughfor me. "

"Not me, " said Fusie, starting to climb a tall, lithe birch, whileHughie lazily watched him. Soon Fusie was at the top of the birch, whichbegan to sway dangerously. 

"Try to fly into that balsam, " cried Hughie. 

"No, sir!"

"Yes, go on. "

"Can't do it. "

"Oh, pshaw! you can. "

"No, nor you either. That's a mighty big jump. "

"Come on down, then, and let me try, " said Hughie, in scorn. Hislaziness was gone in the presence of a possible achievement. 

In a few minutes he had taken Fusie's place a the top of the swayingbirch. It did not look so easy from the top of the birch as from theground to swing into the balsam-tree. However, he could not go back now. 

"Dinna try it, Hughie!" cried Davie to him. "Ye'll no mak it, and ye'llcome an awfu' cropper, as sure as deith. " But Hughie, swaying gentlyback and forth, was measuring the distance of his drop. It was nota feat so very difficult, but it called for good judgment and steadynerve. A moment too soon or a moment too late in letting go, would meana nasty fall of twenty feet or more upon the solid ground, and one neverknew just how one would light. 

"I wudna dae it, Hughie, " urged Davie, anxiously. 

But Hughie, swaying high in the birch, heeded not the warning, andsuddenly swinging out from the slender trunk and holding by his hands, he described a parabola, and releasing the birch dropped on to thebalsam top. But balsam-trees are of uncertain fiber, and not to berelied upon, and this particular balsam, breaking off short in Hughie'shands, allowed him to go crashing through the branches to the earth. 

"Man! man!" cried Davie Scotch, bending over Hughie as he lay whiteand still upon the ground. "Are ye deid? Maircy me! he's deid, " sobbedDavie, wringing his hands. "Fusie, Fusie, ye gowk! where are ye gone?"

In a moment or two Fusie reappeared through the branches with a capfulof water, and dashed it into Hughie's face, with the result that the ladopened his eyes, and after a gasp or two, sat up and looked about him. 

"Och, laddie, laddie, are ye no deid?" said Davie Scotch. 

"What's the matter with you, Scottie?" asked Hughie, with a bewilderedlook about him. "And who's been throwing water all over me?" he added, wrathfully, as full consciousness returned. 

"Man! I'm glad to see ye mad. Gang on wi' ye, " shouted Davie, joyously. "Ye were deid the noo. Ay, clean deid. Was he no, Fusie?" Fusie nodded. 

"I guess not, " said Hughie. "It was that rotten balsam top, " lookingvengefully at the broken tree. 

"Lie doon, man, " said Davie, still anxiously hovering about him. "Dinnarise yet awhile. "

"Oh, pshaw!" said Hughie, and he struggled to his feet; "I'm all right. "But as he spoke he sank down upon the moss, saying, "I feel kind ofqueer, though. "

"Lie still, then, will ye, " said Davie, angrily. "Ye're fair obstinate. "

"Get me some water, Fusie, " said Hughie, rather weakly. 

"Run, Fusie, ye gomeril, ye!"

In a minute Fusie was back with a capful of water. 

"That's better. I'm all right now, " said Hughie, sitting up. 

"Hear him!" said Davie. "Lie ye doon there, or I'll gie ye a crackthat'll mak ye glad tae keep still. "

For half an hour the boys lay on the moss discussing the accident fullyin all its varying aspects and possibilities, till the sound of wheelscame up the road. 

"Who's that, Fusie?" asked Hughie, lazily. 

"Dunno me, " said Fusie, peering through the trees. 

"Do you, Scotty?"

"No, not I. "

Hughie crawled over to the edge of the brush. 

"Why, you idiots! it's Thomas Finch. Thomas!" he called, but Thomasdrove straight on. In a moment Hughie sprang up, forgetting all abouthis weakness, and ran out to the roadside. 

"Hello, Thomas!" he cried, waving his hand. Thomas saw him, stopped, andlooked at him, doubtfully. He, with all the Section, knew how the schoolwas going, and he easily guessed what took Hughie there. 

"I'm not going to school to-day, " said Hughie, answering Thomas's look. 

Thomas nodded, and sat silent, waiting. He was not a man to waste hiswords. 

"I hate the whole thing!" exclaimed Hughie. 

"Foxy, eh?" said Thomas, to whom on other occasions Hughie had confidedhis grievances, and especially those he suffered at the hands of Foxy. 

"Yes, Foxy, " cried Hughie, in a sudden rage. "He's a fat-faced sneak!And the teacher just makes me sick!"

Thomas still waited. 

"She just smiles and smiles at him, and he smiles at her. Ugh! I can'tstand him. "

"Not much harm in smiling, " said Thomas, solemnly. 

"Oh, Thomas, I hate the school. I'm not going to go any more. "

Thomas looked gravely down upon Hughie's passionate face for a fewmoments, and then said, "You will do what your mother wants you, Iguess. "

Hughie said nothing in reply, while Thomas sat pondering. 

Finally he said, with a sudden inspiration, "Hughie, come along with me, and help me with the potatoes. "

"They won't let me, " grumbled Hughie. "At least father won't. I don'tlike to ask mother. "

Thomas's eyes opened in surprise. This was a new thing in Hughie. 

"I'll ask your mother, " he said, at length. "Get in with me here. "

Still Hughie hesitated. To get away from school was joy enough, to gowith Thomas to the potato planting was more than could be hoped for. Butstill he stood making pictures in the dust with his bare toes. 

"There's Fusie, " he said, "and Davie Scotch. "

"Well, " said Thomas, catching sight of those worthies through the trees, "let them come, too. "

Fusie was promptly willing, but Davie was doubtful. He certainly wouldnot go to the manse, where he might meet the minister, and meeting theminister's wife under the present circumstances was a little worse. 

"Well, you can wait at the gate with Fusie, " suggested Hughie, and sothe matter was settled. 

Fortunately for Hughie, his father was not at home. But not Thomas'searnest entreaties nor Hughie's eager pleading would have availed withthe mother, for attendance at school was a sacred duty in her eyes, hadit not been that her boy's face, paler than usual, and with the dawningof a new defiance in it, startled her, and confirmed in her the fearthat all was not well with him. 

"Well, Thomas, he may go with you to the Cameron's for the potatoes, butas to going with you to the planting, that is another thing. Your motheris not fit to be troubled with another boy, and especially a boy likeHughie. And how is she to-day, Thomas?" continued Mrs. Murray, as Thomasstood in dull silence before her. 

"She's better, " said Thomas, answering more quickly than usual, and witha certain eagerness in his voice. "She's a great deal better, and Hughiewill do her no harm, but good. "

Mrs. Murray looked at Thomas as he spoke, wondering at the change in hisvoice and manner. The heavy, stolid face had changed since she had lastseen it. It was finer, keener, than before. The eyes, so often dull, were lighted up with a new, strange fire. 

"She's much better, " said Thomas again, as if insisting against Mrs. Murray's unbelief. 

"I am glad to hear it, Thomas, " she said, gently. "She will soonbe quite well again, I hope, for she has had a long, long time ofsuffering. "

"Yes, a long, long time, " replied Thomas. His face was pale, and in hiseyes was a look of pain, almost of fear. 

"And you will come to see her soon?" he added. There was almost apiteous entreaty in his tone. 

"Yes, Thomas, surely next week. And meantime, I shall let Hughie go withyou. "

A look of such utter devotion poured itself into Thomas's eyes thatMrs. Murray was greatly moved, and putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, gently, "'He will give His angels charge. ' Don't be afraid, Thomas. "

"Afraid!" said Thomas, with a kind of gasp, his face going white. "Afraid! No. Why?" But Mrs. Murray turned from him to hide the tearsthat she could not keep out of her eyes, for she knew what was beforeThomas and them all. 

Meantime Hughie was busy putting into his little carpet-bag what heconsidered the necessary equipment for his visit. 

"You must wear your shoes, Hughie. "

"Oh, mother, shoes are such an awful bother planting potatoes. They getfull of ground and everything. "

"Well, put them in your bag, at any rate, and your stockings, too. Youmay need them. "

By degrees Hughie's very moderate necessities were satisfied, and with ahurried farewell to his mother he went off with Thomas. At the gate theypicked up Fusie and Davie Scotch, and went off to the Cameron's for theseed potatoes, Hughie's heart lighter than it had been for many a day. And all through the afternoon, and as he drove home with Thomas onthe loaded bags, his heart kept singing back to the birds in the treesoverhead. 

It was late in the afternoon when they drove into the yard, for theroads were still bad in the swamp, where the corduroy had been broken upby the spring floods. 

Thomas hurried through unhitching, and without waiting to unharnesshe stood the horses in their stalls, saying, "We may need them thisafternoon again, " and took Hughie off to the house straight-way. 

The usual beautiful order pervaded the house and its surroundings. The back yard, through which the boys came from the barn, was freeof litter; the chips were raked into neat little piles close to thewood-pile, for summer use. On a bench beside the "stoop" door was a rowof milk-pans, lapping each other like scales on a fish, glitteringin the sun. The large summer kitchen, with its spotless floor andwhite-washed walls, stood with both its doors open to the sweet air thatcame in from the fields above, and was as pleasant a room to lookin upon as one could desire. On the sill of the open window stooda sweet-scented geranium and a tall fuschia with white and crimsonblossoms hanging in clusters. Bunches of wild flowers stood on thetable, on the dresser, and up beside the clock, and the whole roombreathed of sweet scents of fields and flowers, and "the name of thechamber was peace. "

Beside the open window sat the little mother in an arm-chair, theembodiment of all the peaceful beauty and sweet fragrance of the room. 

"Well, mother, " said Thomas, crossing the floor to her and laying hishand upon her shoulder, "have I been long away? I have brought Hughieback with me, you see. "

"Not so very long, Thomas, " said the mother, her dark face lighting witha look of love as she glanced up at her big son. "And I am glad to seeHughie. He will excuse me from rising, " she added, with fine courtesy. 

Hughie hurried toward her. 

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Finch. Don't think of rising. " But he could get nofurther. Boy as he was, and at the age when boys are most heartless andregardless, he found it hard to keep his lip and his voice steady and toswallow the lump in his throat, and in spite of all he could do his eyeswere filling up with tears as he looked into the little woman's face, soworn and weary, so pathetically bright. 

It was months since he had seen her, and during these months a greatchange had come to her and to the Finch household. After suffering longin secret, the mother had been forced to confess to a severe pain inher breast and under her arm. Upon examination the doctor pronounced thecase to be malignant cancer, and there was nothing for it but removal. It was what Dr. Grant called "a very beautiful operation, indeed, " andnow she was recovering her strength, but only slowly, so slowly thatThomas at times found his heart sink with a vague fear. But it was notthe pain of the wound that had wrought that sweet, pathetic look intothe little woman's face, but the deeper pain she carried in her heartfor those she loved better than herself. 

The mother's sickness brought many changes into the household, but themost striking of all the changes was that wrought in the slow andstolid Thomas. The father and Billy Jack were busy with the farm mattersoutside, upon little Jessac, now a girl of twelve years, fell the careof the house, but it was Thomas that, with the assistance of a neighborat first, but afterwards alone, waited on his mother, dressing the woundand nursing her. These weeks of watching and nursing had wrought in himthe subtle change that stirred Mrs. Murray's heart as she looked at himthat day, and that made even Hughie wonder. For one thing his tonguewas loosed, and Thomas talked to his mother of all that he had seen andheard on the way to the Cameron's and back, making much of his littlevisit to the manse, and of Mrs. Murray's kindness, and enlarging uponher promised visit, and all with such brightness and picturesquenessof speech that Hughie listened amazed. For all the years he had knownThomas he had never heard from his lips so many words as in the last fewminutes of talk with his mother. Then, too, Thomas seemed to have foundhis fingers, for no woman could have arranged more deftly and withgentler touch the cushions at his mother's back, and no nurse could havemeasured out the medicine and prepared her egg-nog with greater skill. Hughie could hardly believe his eyes and ears. Was this Thomas thestolid, the clumsy, the heavy-handed, this big fellow with the quicktongue and the clever, gentle hand?

Meantime Jessac had set upon the table a large pitcher of rich milk, with oat cakes and butter, and honey in the comb. 

"Now, Hughie, lad, draw in and help yourself. You and Thomas will betoo hungry to wait for supper, " said the mother. And Hughie, protestingpolitely that he was not very hungry, proceeded to establish thecontrary, to the great satisfaction of himself and the others. 

"Now, Thomas, " said the mother, "we had better cut the seed. "

"Indeed, and not a seed will you cut, mother, " said Thomas, emphatically. "You may boss the job, though. I'll bring the potatoes tothe back door. " And this he did, thinking it no trouble to hitch up theteam to draw the wagon into the back yard so that his mother might havea part in the cutting of the seed potatoes, as she had had every year ofher life on the farm. 

Very carefully, and in spite of her protests that she could walk quitewell, Thomas carried his mother out to her chair in the shade of thehouse, arranging with tender solicitude the pillows at her back and therug at her feet. Then they set to work at the potatoes. 

"Mind you have two eyes in every seed, Hughie, " said Jessac, severely. 

"Huh! I know. I've cut them often enough, " replied Hughie, scornfully. 

"Well, look at that one, now, " said Jessac, picking up a seed thatHughie had let fall; "that's only got one eye. "

"There's two, " said Hughie, triumphantly. 

"That's not an eye, " said Jessac, pointing to a mark on the potato;"that's where the top grew out of, isn't it, mother?"

"It is, isn't it?" appealed Hughie. 

Mrs. Finch took the seed and looked at it. 

"Well, there's one very good eye, and that will do. "

"But isn't that the mark of the top, mother?" insisted Jessac. But themother only shook her head at her. 

"That's right, Jessac, " said Thomas, driving off with his team; "youlook after Hughie, and mother will look after you both till I get back, and there'll be a grand crop this year. "

It was a happy hour for them all. The slanting rays of the afternoonsun filled the air with a genial warmth. A little breeze bore from theorchard near by a fragrance of apple-blossoms. A matronly hen, tetheredby the leg to her coop, raised indignant protest against the outrage onher personal liberty, or clucked and crooned her invitations, counsels, warnings, and encouragements, in as many different tones, to herindependent, fluffy brood of chicks, while a huge gobbler struttedup and down, thrilling with pride in the glossy magnificence of hisoutspread tail and pompous, mighty chest. 

Hughie was conscious of a deep and grateful content, but across hiscontent lay a shadow. If only that would lift! As he watched Thomas withhis mother, he realized how far he had drifted from his own mother, andhe thought with regret of the happy days, which now seemed so far inthe past, when his mother had shared his every secret. But for him thosedays could never come again. 

At supper, Hughie was aware of some subtle difference in the spirit ofthe home. As to Thomas so to his father a change had come. The old manwas as silent as ever, indeed more so, but there was no asperity in hissilence. His critical, captious manner was gone. His silence was thatof a great sorrow, and of a great fear. While there was more cheerfulconversation than ever at the table, there was through all a new respectand a certain tender consideration shown toward the silent old man atthe head, and all joined in an effort to draw him from his gloom. Thepast months of his wife's suffering had bowed him as with the weight ofyears. Even Hughie could note this. 

After supper the old man "took the Books" as usual, but when, as HighPriest, he "ascended the Mount of Ordinances to offer the eveningsacrifice, " he was as a man walking in thick darkness bewildered andafraid. The prayer was largely a meditation on the heinousness of sinand the righteous judgments of God, and closed with an exaltation of theCross, with an appeal that the innocent might be spared the punishmentof the guilty. The conviction had settled in the old man's mind that"the Lord was visiting upon him and his family his sins, his pride, hiscensoriousness, his hardness of heart. " The words of his prayer fellmeaningless upon Hughie's English ears, but the boy's heart quiveredin response to the agony of entreaty in the pleading tones, and he rosefrom his knees awed and subdued. 

There was no word spoken for some moments after the prayer. With peoplelike the Finches it was considered to be an insult to the Almighty todepart from "the Presence" with any unseemly haste. Then Thomas came tohelp his mother to her room, but she, with her eyes upon her husband, quietly put Thomas aside and said, "Donald, will you tak me ben?"

Rarely had she called him by his name before the family, and all feltthat this was a most unusual demonstration of tenderness on her part. 

The old man glanced quickly at her from under his overhanging eyebrows, and met her bright upward look with an involuntary shake of the head anda slight sigh. Comfort was not for him, and he must not deludehimself. But with a little laugh she put her hand on his arm, and as ifadministering reproof to a little child, she said some words in Gaelic. 

"Oh, woman, woman!" said Donald in reply, "if it was yourself we had todeal with--"

"Whisht, man! Will you be putting me before your Father in heaven?" shesaid, as they disappeared into the other room. 

There was no fiddle that evening. There was no heart for it withThomas, neither was there time, for there was the milking to do, and the"sorting" of the pails and pans, and the preparing for churning in themorning, so that when all was done, the long evening had faded into thetwilight and it was time for bed. 

Before going upstairs, Thomas took Hughie into "the room" where hismother's bed had been placed. Thomas gave her her medicine and made hercomfortable for the night. 

"Is there nothing else now, mother?" he said, still lingering about her. 

"No, Thomas, my man. How are the cows doing?"

"Grand; Blossom filled a pail to-night, and Spotty almost twice. She's agreat milker, yon. "

"Yes, and so was her mother. I remember she used to fill two pails whenthe grass was good. "

"I remember her, too. Her horns curled right back, didn't they? And shealways looked so fierce. "

"Yes, but she was a kindly cow. And will the churn be ready for themorning?"

"Yes, mother, we'll have buttermilk for our porridge, sure enough. "

"Well, you'll need to be up early for that, too early, Thomas, lad, fora boy like you. "

"A boy like me!" said Thomas, feigning indignation, and stretchinghimself to his full height. "Where would you be getting your men, mother?"

"You are man enough, laddie, " said his mother, "and a good one you willcome to be, I doubt. And you, too, Hughie, lad, " she added, turning tohim. "You will be like your father. "

"I dunno, " said Hughie, his face flushing scarlet. He was weary and sickof his secret, and the sight of the loving comradeship between Thomasand his mother made his burden all the heavier. 

"What's wrong with yon laddie?" asked Mrs. Finch, when Hughie had goneaway to bed. 

"Now, mother, you're too sharp altogether. And how do you know anythingis wrong with him?"

"I warrant you his mother sees it. Something is on his mind. Hughie isnot the lad he used to be. He will not look at you straight, and that isnot like Hughie. "

"Oh, mother, you're a sharp one, " said Thomas. "I thought no one hadseen that but myself. Yes, there is something wrong with him. It'ssomething in the school. It's a poor place nowadays, anyway, and I wishHughie were done with it. "

"He must keep at the school, Thomas, and I only wish you could do thesame. " His mother sighed. She had her own secret ambition for Thomas, and though she never opened her heart to her son, or indeed to any one, Thomas somehow knew that it was her heart's desire to see him "in thepulpit. "

"Never you mind, mother, " he said, brightly. "It'll all come right. Aren't you always the one preaching faith to me?"

"Yes, laddie, and it is needed, and sorely at times. "

"Now, mither, " said Thomas, dropping into her native speech, "ye maunabe fashin' yersel. Ye'll jist say 'Now I lay me, ' and gang to sleep likea bairnie. "

"Ay, that's a guid word, laddie, an' a'll tak it. Ye may kiss me guidnicht. A'll tak it. "

Thomas bent over her and whispered in her ear, "Ay, mither, mither, ye're an angel, and that ye are. "

"Hoots, laddie, gang awa wi' ye, " said his mother, but she held her armsabout his neck and kissed him once and again. There was no one to see, and why should they not give and take their heart's fill of love. 

But when Thomas stood outside the room door, he folded his arms tightacross his breast and whispered with lips that quivered, "Ay, mither, mither, mither, there's nane like ye. There's nane like ye. " And he wasglad that when he went upstairs, he found Hughie unwilling to talk. 

The next three days they were all busy with the planting of thepotatoes, and nothing could have been better for Hughie. The sweet, sunny air, and the kindly, wholesome earth and honest hard work werelife and health to mind and heart and body. It is wonderful how thetouch of the kindly mother earth cleanses the soul from its unwholesomehumors. The hours that Hughie spent in working with the clean, red earthseemed somehow to breathe virtue into him. He remembered the past monthslike a bad dream. They seemed to him a hideous unreality, and he couldnot think of Foxy and his schemes, nor of his own weakness in yieldingto temptation, without a horrible self-loathing. He became aware of astrange feeling of sympathy and kinship with old Donald Finch. He seemedto understand his gloom. During those days their work brought those twotogether, for Billy Jack had the running of the drills, and to Thomaswas intrusted the responsibility of "dropping" the potatoes, so Hughieand the old man undertook to "cover" after Thomas. 

Side by side they hoed together, speaking not a word for an hour at atime, but before long the old man appeared to feel the lad's sympathy. Hughie was quick to save him steps, and eager in many ways to anticipatehis wishes. He was quick, too, with the hoe, and ambitious to do hisfull share of the work, and this won the old man's respect, so thatby the end of the first day there was established between them a solidbasis of friendship. 

Old Donald Finch was no cheerful companion for Hughie, but it was toHughie a relief, more than anything else, that he was not much witheither Thomas or Billy Jack. 

"You're tired, " he ventured, in answer to a deep sigh from the old man, toward the close of the day. 

"No, laddie, " replied the old man, "I know not that I am working. Theburden of toil is the least of all our burdens. " And then, after apause, he added, "It is a terrible thing, is sin. "

To an equal in age the old man would never have ventured thisconfidence, but to Hughie, to his own surprise, he found it easy totalk. 

"A terrible thing, " he repeated, "and it will always be finding youout. "

Hughie listened to him with a fearful sinking of heart, thinking ofhimself and his sin. 

"Yes, " repeated the old man, with awful solemnity, "it will come up withyou at last. "

"But, " ventured Hughie, timidly, "won't God forgive? Won't he everforget?"

The old man looked at him, leaning upon his hoe. 

"Yes, he will forgive. But for those who have had great privileges, andwho have sinned against light--I will not say. "

The fear deepened in Hughie's heart. 

"Do you mean that God will not forgive a man who has had a good chance, an elder, or a minister, or--or--a minister's son, say, like me?"

There was something in Hughie's tone that startled the old man. Heglanced at Hughie's face. 

"What am I saying?" he cried. "It is of myself I am thinking, boy, andof no minister or minister's son. "

But Hughie stood looking at him, his face showing his terrible anxiety. God and sin were vivid realities to him. 

"Yes, yes, " said the old man to himself, "it is a great gospel. 'As faras the east is distant from the west. ' 'And plenteous redemption is everfound with him. '"

"But, do you think, " said Hughie, in a low voice, "God will tell all oursins? Will he make them known?"

"God forbid!" cried the old man. "'And their sins and their iniquitieswill I remember no more. ' 'The depths of the sea. ' No, no, boy, he willsurely forget, and he will not be proclaiming them. "

It was a strange picture. The old man leaning upon the top of hishoe looking over at the lad, the gloom of his face irradiated with amomentary gleam of hope, and the boy looking back at him with almostbreathless eagerness. 

"It would be great, " said Hughie, at last, "if he would forget. "

"Yes, " said the old man, the gleam in his face growing brighter, "'If weconfess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us, ' and forgivingwith him is forgetting. Ah, yes, it is a great gospel, " he continued, and standing there he lifted up his hand and broke into a kind of chantin Gaelic, of which Hughie could catch no meaning, but the exalted lookon the old man's face was translation enough. 

"Must we always tell?" said Hughie, after the old man had ceased. 

"What are you saying, laddie?"

"I say must we always tell our sins--I mean to people?"

The old man thought a moment. "It is not always good to be talking aboutour sins to people. That is for God to hear. But we must be ready tomake right what is wrong. "

"Yes, yes, " said Hughie, eagerly, "of course one would be glad to dothat. "

The old man gave him one keen glance, and began hoeing again. 

"Ye'd better be asking ye're mother about that. She will know. "

"No, no, " said Hughie, "I can't. "

The old man paused in his work, looked at the boy for a moment or two, and then went on working again. 

"Speak to my woman, " he said, after a few strokes of his hoe. "She's awonderful wise woman. " And Hughie wished that he dared. 

During the days of the planting they became great friends, and to theirmutual good. The mother's keen eyes noted the change both in Hughie andin her husband, and was glad for it. It was she that suggested to BillyJack that he needed help in the back pasture with the stones. BillyJack, quick to take her meaning, eagerly insisted that help he musthave, indeed he could not get on with the plowing unless the stoneswere taken off. And so it came that Hughie and the old man, with old Flyhitched up in the stone-boat, spent two happy and not unprofitable daysin the back pasture. Gravely they discussed the high themes of God'ssovereignty and man's freedom, with all their practical issues uponconduct and destiny. Only once, and that very shyly, did the old manbring round the talk to the subject of their first conversation thatmeant so much to them both. 

"The Lord will not be wanting to shame us beyond what is necessary, " hesaid. "There are certain sins which he will bring to light, but thereare those that, in his mercy, he permits us to hide; provided always, "he added, with emphasis, "we are done with them. "

"Yes, indeed, " assented Hughie, eagerly, "and who wouldn't be done withthem?"

But the old man shook his head sadly. 

"If that were always true a man would soon be rid of his evil heart. But, " he continued, as if eager to turn the conversation, "you will betalking with my woman about it. She's a wonderful wise woman, yon. "

Somehow the opportunity came to Hughie to take the old man's advice. OnSaturday evening, just before leaving for home, he found himself alonewith Mrs. Finch sitting beside the open window, watching the sun go downbehind the trees. 

"What a splendid sunset!" he cried. He was ever sensitive to themajestic drama of nature. 

"Ay, " said Mrs. Finch, "the clouds and the sun make wonderful beautytogether, but without the sun the clouds are ugly things. "

Hughie quickly took her meaning. 

"They are not pleasant, " he said. 

"No, not pleasant, " she replied, "but with the sunlight upon them theyare wonderful. "

Hughie was silent for some moments, and then suddenly burst out, "Mrs. Finch, does God forget sins, and will he keep them hid, from people, Imean?"

"Ay, " she said, with quiet conviction, "he will forget, and he will hidethem. Why should he lay the burden of our sins upon others? And if hedoes not why should we?"

"Do you mean we need not always tell? I'd like to tell my--some one. "

"Ay, " she replied, "it's a weary wark and a lanely to carry it oor lane, but it's an awfu' grief to hear o' anither's sin. An awfu' grief, " sherepeated to herself. 

"But, " burst out Hughie, "I'll never be right till I tell my mother. "

"Ay, and then it is she would be carrying the weight o' it. "

"But it's against her, " said Hughie, his hands going up to his face. "Oh, Mrs. Finch, it's just awful mean. I don't know how I did it. "

"Ye can tell me, laddie, if ye will, " said she, kindly, and Hughiepoured forth the whole burden that had lain so long upon him, but hetold it laying upon Foxy small blame, for during those days, hisown part had come to bulk so large with him that Foxy's was almostforgotten. 

For some moments after he had done Mrs. Finch sat in silence, leaningforward and patting the boy's bowed head. 

"Ay, but he is rightly named, " she said, at length. 

"Who?" asked Hughie, surprised. 

"Yon store-keepin' chiel. " Then she added, "But ye're done wi' him andhis tricks, and ye'll stand up against him and be a man for the weeladdies. "

"Oh, I don't know, " said Hughie, too sick at heart and too penetratedwith the miserable sense of his own meanness and cowardice, to make anypromise. 

"And as tae ye're mither, laddie, " went on Mrs. Finch, "it will bea sair burden for her. " When Mrs. Finch was greatly moved she alwaysdropped into her broadest Scotch. 

"Oh, yes, I know, " said Hughie, his voice now broken with sobs, "andthat's the worst of it. If I didn't have to tell her! She'll justbreak her heart, I know. She thinks I'm so--oh, oh--" The long pent upfeelings came flooding forth in groans and sobs. 

For some moments Mrs. Finch sat quietly, and then she said, "Listen, laddie. There is Another to be thought of first. "

"Another?" asked Hughie. "Oh, yes, I know. But He knows already, andindeed I have often told Him. But besides, you say He will forget, andtake it away. But mother doesn't know, and doesn't suspect. "

"Well, then, laddie, " said Mrs. Finch, with quiet firmness, "let hertell ye what to do. Mak ye're offer to tell her, and warn her that it'llgrieve ye baith, and then let her say. "

"Yes, I'll do it. I'll do it to-night, and if she says so, then I'lltell her. "

And so he did, and when he came back to the Finch's on Monday morning, for his mother saw that leaving school for a time would be no seriousloss, and a week or two with the Finches might be a great gain, he cameradiant to Mrs. Finch, and finding her in her chair by the open windowalone, he burst forth, "I told her, and she wouldn't let me. She didn'twant to know so long as I said it was all made right. And she promisedshe would trust me just the same. Oh, she's splendid, my mother! Andshe's coming this week to see you. And I tell you I just feel like--likeanything! I can't keep still. I'm like Fido when he's let off his chain. He just goes wild. "

Then, after a pause, he added, in a graver tone, "And mother readZaccheus to me. And isn't it fine how He never said a word tohim?"--Hughie was too excited to be coherent--"but stood up for him, and"--here Hughie's voice became more grave--"I'm going to restorefourfold. I'm going to work at the hay, and I fired that old pistol intothe pond, and I'm not afraid of Foxy any more, not a bit. "

Hughie rushed breathlessly through his story, while the dark face beforehim glowed with intelligent sympathy, but she only said, when he haddone, "It is a graund thing to be free, is it no'?"

CHAPTER X

THE BEAR HUNT

"Is Don round, Mrs. Cameron?"

"Mercy me, Hughie! Did ye sleep in the woods? Come away in. Ye're asight for sore eyes. Come away in. And how's ye're mother and all?"

"All right, thank you. Is Don in?"

"Don? He's somewhere about the barn. But come away, man, there's a bitbannock here, and some honey. "

"I'm in a hurry, Mrs. Cameron, and I can't very well wait, " said Hughie, trying to preserve an evenness of tone and not allow his excitement toappear. 

"Well, well! What's the matter, whatever?" When Hughie refused a "bitbannock" and honey, something must be seriously wrong. 

"Nothing at all, but I'm just wanting Don for a--for something. "

"Well, well, just go to the old barn and cry at him. "

Hughie found Don in the old barn, busy "rigging up" his plow, for theharvest was in and the fall plowing was soon to begin. 

"Man, Don!" cried Hughie, in a subdued voice, "it's the greatest thingyou ever heard!"

"What is it now, Hughie? You look fairly lifted. Have you seen a ghost?"

"A ghost? No, something better than that, I can tell you. "

Hughie drew near and lowered his voice, while Don worked onindifferently. 

"It's a bear, Don. "

Don dropped his plow. His indifference vanished. The Camerons were greathunters, and many a bear had they, with their famous black dogs, broughthome in their day, but not for the past year or two; and never had Donbagged anything bigger than a fox or a coon. 

"Where did you see him?"

"I didn't see him. " Don looked disgusted. "But he was in our house lastnight. "

"Look here now, stop that!" said Don, gripping Hughie by the jacket andshaking him. 

But Hughie's summer in the harvest-field had built up his muscles, andso he shook himself free from Don's grasp, and said, "Look out there!I'm telling you the truth. Last night father was out late and the supperthings were left on the table--some honey and stuff--and after fatherhad been asleep for a while he was wakened by some one tramping aboutthe house. He got up, came out of his room, and called out, 'Jessie, where are the matches?' And just then there was an awful crash, andsomething hairy brushed past his leg in the dark and got out of thedoor. We all came down, and there was the table upset, the dishes all onthe floor, and four great, big, deep scratches in the table. "

"Pshaw! It must have been Fido. "

"Fido was in the barn, and just mad to get out; and besides, the tracksare there yet behind the house. It was a bear, sure enough, and I'mgoing after him. "

"You?"

"Yes, and I want you to come with the dogs. "

"Oh, pshaw! Dear knows where he'll be now, " said Don, considering. 

"Like enough in the Big Swamp or in McLeod's beech bush. They're awfulfond of beechnuts. But the dogs can track him, can't they?"

"By jingo! I'd like to get him, " said Don, kindling under Hughie'sexcitement. "Wait a bit now. Don't say a word. If Murdie hears he'llwant to come, sure, and we don't want him. You wait here till I get thegun and the dogs. "

"Have you got any bullets or slugs?"

"Yes, lots. Why? Have you a gun?"

"Yes, you just bet! I've got our gun. What did you think I was going todo? Put salt on his tail? I've got it down the lane. "

"All right, you wait there for me. "

"Don't be long, " said Hughie, slipping away. 

It was half an hour before Don appeared with the gun and the dogs. 

"What in the world kept you? I thought you were never coming, " saidHughie, impatiently. 

"I tell you it's no easy thing to get away with mother on hand, but it'sall right. Here's your bullets and slugs. I've brought some bannocks andcheese. We don't know when we'll get home. We'll pick up the track inyour brule. Does any one know you're going?"

"No, only Fusie. He wanted to come, but I wouldn't have it. Fusie getsso excited. " Hughie's calmness was not phenomenal. He could hardly standstill for two consecutive seconds. 

"Well, let's go, " and Don set off on a trot, with one of the black dogsin leash and the other following, and after him came Hughie runninglightly. 

In twenty minutes they were at the manse clearing. 

"Now, " said Don, pulling up, "where did you say you saw his track?"

"Just back of the house there, and round the barn, and then straight forthe brule. "

The boys stood looking across the fallen timber toward the barn. 

"There's Fido barking, " said Hughie. "I bet he's on the scent now. "

"Yes, " answered Don, "and there's your father, too. "

"Gimmini crickets! so it is, " said Hughie, slowly. "I don't think it'sworth while going up there to get that track. Can't we get it just aswell in the woods here?" There were always things to do about the house, and besides, the minister knew nothing of Hughie's familiarity with thegun, and hence would soon have put a stop to any such rash venture asbear-hunting. 

The boys waited, listening to Fido, who was running back and forwardbetween the brule and the house barking furiously. The minister seemedinterested in Fido's manoeuvres, and followed him a little way. 

"Man!" said Hughie, in a whisper, "perhaps he'll go and look for the gunhimself. And Fido will find us, sure. I say, let's go. "

"Let's wait a minute, " said Don, "to see what direction Fido takes, andthen we'll put our dogs on. "

In a few minutes Hughie breathed more freely, for his father seemed tolose his interest in Fido, and returned slowly to the house. 

"Now, " said Hughie, "let's get down into the brule as near Fido as wecan get. "

Cautiously the boys made their way through the fallen timber, keeping asmuch as possible under cover of the underbrush. But though they huntedabout for some time, the dogs evidently got no scent, for they remainedquite uninterested in the proceedings. 

"We'll have to get up closer to where Fido is, " said Don, "and thesooner we get there the better. "

"I suppose so, " said Hughie. "I suppose I had better go. Fido willstop barking for me. " So, while Don lay hid with the dogs in the brule, Hughie stole nearer and nearer to Fido, who was still chasing downtoward the brule and back to the house, as if urging some one to comeforth and investigate the strange scent he had discovered. GraduallyHughie worked his way closer to Fido until within calling distance. 

Just as he was about to whistle for the dog, the back door opened andforth came the minister again. By this time Fido had passed into thebrule a little way, and could not be seen from the house. It was ananxious moment for Hughie. He made a sudden desperate resolve. He mustsecure Fido now, or else give up the chance of getting on the trail ofthe bear. So he left his place of hiding, and bending low, ran swiftlyforward until Fido caught sight of him, and hearing his voice, came tohim, barking loudly and making every demonstration of excitement andjoy. He seized the dog by the collar and dragged him down, and afterholding him quiet for a moment, hauled him back to Don. 

"We'll have to take him with us, " he said. "I'll put this string on hiscollar, and he'll go all right. " And to this Don agreed, though veryunwillingly, for he had no confidence in Fido's hunting ability. 

"I tell you he's a great fighter, " said Hughie, "if we should ever getnear that bear. "

"Oh, pshaw!" said Don, "he may fight dogs well enough, but when it comesto a bear, it's a different thing. Every dog is scared of a bear thefirst time he sees him. "

"Well, I bet you Fido won't run from anything, " said Hughie, confidently. 

To their great relief they saw the minister set off in the oppositedirection across the fields. 

"Thank goodness! He's off to the McRae's, " said Hughie. 

"Now, then, " said Don, "we'll go back to the track there, and put thedogs on. You go on with Fido. " And Hughie set off with Fido pullingeagerly upon the string. 

When they reached the spot where Fido had been seized by Hughie, suddenly the black dog who had been following Don at some distance, stopped short and began to growl. In a moment his mate threw up his noseand began sniffing about, the hair rising stiff upon his back. 

"He's catching it, " said Don, in an excited tone. "Here, you hold him. Imust get the other one, or he'll be off. " He was not a minute too soon, for the other dog, who had been ranging about, suddenly found the trail, and with a fierce, short bark, was about to dash off when Don threwhimself upon him. In a few moments both dogs were on the leash, and setoff upon the scent at a great pace. The trail was evidently plain enoughto the dogs, for they followed hard, leading the boys deeper and deeperinto the bush. 

"He's making for the Big Swamp, " said Don, and on they went, with eyesand ears on the alert, expecting every moment to hear the snort of abear, or to meet him on the further side of every bunch of underbrush. 

For an hour they went on at a steady trot, over and under fallen logs, splashing through water holes, crashing over dead brushwood, and tearingthrough the interlacing boughs of the thick underbrush of spruce andbalsam. The black dogs never hesitated. They knew well what was theirbusiness there, and that they kept strictly in mind. Fido, on the otherhand, who loved to roam the woods in an aimless hunt for any and everywild thing that might cross his nose, but who never had seriously huntedanything in particular, trotted good-naturedly behind Hughie with rathera bored expression on his face. 

The trail, which had led them steadily north, all at once turned westand away from the swamp. 

"Say, " said Don, "he's making for Alan Gorrach's cabin. "

"Man!" said Hughie, "that would be fine, to get him there. It's good andopen, too. "

"Too open by a long way, " grunted Don. "We'd never get him there. "

Sure enough, the dogs led up from the swamp and along the path to Alan'scabin. The door stood open, and in answer to Don's "Horo!" Alan cameout. 

"What now?" he said, glowering at Don. 

"You won't be wanting any dogs to-day, Alan?" said Don, politely. 

Alan glanced at him suspiciously, but said not a word. 

"These are very good dogs, indeed, Alan. "

"Go on your ways, now, " said Alan. 

"These black ones are not in very good condition, but Fido there is agood, fat dog. "

Alan's wrath began to rise. 

"Will you be going on, now, about your business?"

"Better take them, Alan, there's a hard winter coming on. "

"Mac an' Diabhoil!" cried Alan, in a shrill voice, suddenly burstinginto fury. "I will be having your heart's blood, " he cried, rushing intohis cabin. 

"Come on, Hughie, " cried Don, and away they rushed, following the blackdogs upon the trail of the bear. 

Deeper and deeper into the swamp the dogs led the way, the goingbecoming more difficult and the underbrush thicker at every step. Afteran hour or two of hard work, the dogs began to falter, and ran hitherand thither, now on one scent and then on another, till tired out anddisgusted, Don held them in, and threw himself down upon the soft mossthat lay deep over everything. 

"We're on his old tracks here, " said Don, savagely, "and you can't pickout the new from the old. "

"His hole must be somewhere not too far away, " said Hughie. 

"Yes, perhaps it is, but then again it may be across the ridge. At anyrate, we'll have some grub. "

As they ate the bannocks and cheese, they pictured to themselves whatthey should do if they ever should come up with the bear. 

"One thing we've got to be careful of, " said Don, "and that is, not tolose our heads. "

"That's so, " assented Hughie, feeling quite cool and self-possessed atthe time. 

"Because if you lose your head you're done for, " continued Don. "Remember Ken McGregor?"

"No, " said Hughie. 

"Didn't you ever hear that? Why, he ran into a bear, and made a drive athim with his axe, but the bear, with one paw knocked the axe clear outof his hand, and with one sweep of the other tore his insides right out. They're mighty cute, too, " went on Don. "They'll pretend to be almostdead just to coax you near enough, and then they'll spin round on theirhind legs like a rooster. If they ever do catch you, the only thingto do is to lie still and make believe you're dead, and then, unlessthey're very hungry, they won't hurt you much. "

After half an hour's rest, the hunting instinct awoke again within them, and the boys determined to make another attempt. After circling aboutthe swamp for some time, the boys came upon a beaten track which ledstraight through the heart of the swamp. 

"I say, " said Don, "this is going to strike the ridge somewhere justabout there, " pointing northeast, "and if we don't see anything betweenhere and the ridge, we'll strike home that way. It'll be better walkingthan this cursed swamp, anyway. Are you tired?"

Hughie refused to acknowledge any weariness. 

"Well, then, I am, " said Don. 

The trail was clear enough, and they were able to follow at a goodpace, so that in a few minutes, as they had expected, they struck thenortheast end of the swamp. Here again they called a halt, and tyingup the dogs, lay down upon the dry, brown leaves, lazily eating thebeechnuts and discussing their prospects of meeting the bear, and theirplans for dealing with him. 

"Well, let's go on, " at length said Don. "There's just a chance of ourmeeting him on this ridge. He's got a den somewhere down in the swamp, and he may be coming home this way. Besides, it'll take us all our time, now, to get home before dark. I guess there's no use keeping the dogsany longer. We'll just let them go. " So saying, Don let the black dogsgo free, but after a little skirmishing through the open beech woods, the dogs appeared to lose all interest in the expedition, and kept closeto Don's heels. 

Fido, on the other hand, followed, ranging the woods on either side, cheerfully interested in scaring up rabbits, ground-hogs, and squirrels. He had never known the rapture of bringing down big game, and so wascontent with whatever came his way. 

At length the hunters reached the main trail where their pathsseparated; but a little of the swamp still remained, and on the otherside was the open clearing. 

"This is your best way, " said Don, pointing out the path to Hughie. "Wehad bad luck to-day, but we'll try again. We may meet him still, youknow, so don't fire at any squirrel or anything. If I hear a shot I'llcome to you, and you do the same by me. "

"I say, " said Hughie, "where does this track of mine come out? Is itbelow the Deepole there, or is it on the other side of the clearing?"

"Why, don't you know?" said Don. "This runs right up to the back of theFisher's berry patch, and through the sugar-bush to your own clearing. I'll go with you if you like. "

"Oh, pshaw!" said Hughie, "I'll find it all right. Come on, Fido. " ButFido had disappeared. "Good night, Don. "

"Good night, " said Don. "Mind you don't fire unless it's at a bear. I'lldo the same. "

In a few minutes Hughie found himself alone in the thick underbrush ofthe swamp. The shadows were lying heavy, and the sunlight that stillcaught the tops of the tall trees was quite lost in the gloom of the lowunderbrush. Deep moss under foot, with fallen trees and thick-growingbalsam and cedars, made the walking difficult, and every step Hughiewished himself out in the clearing. He began to feel, too, theoppression of the falling darkness. He tried whistling to keep up hiscourage, but the sound seemed to fill the whole woods about him, and hesoon gave it up. 

After a few minutes he stood still and called for Fido, but the dog hadgone on some hunt of his own, and with a sense of deeper loneliness, he set himself again to his struggle with the moss and brush and fallentrees. At length he reached firmer ground, and began with more cheerfulheart to climb up to the open. 

Suddenly he heard a rustle, and saw the brush in front of him move. 

"Oh, there you are, you brute, " he cried, "come in here. Come in, Fido. Here, sir!"

He pushed the bushes aside, and his heart jumped and filled his mouth. A huge, black shape stood right across his path not ten paces away. Amoment they gazed at each other, and then, with a low growl, the bearbegan to sway awkwardly toward him. Hughie threw up his gun and fired. The bear paused, snapping viciously and tearing at his wounded shoulder, and then rushed on Hughie without waiting to rise on his hind legs. 

Like a flash Hughie dodged behind the brush, and then fled like the windtoward the open. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the bear shamblingafter him at a great pace, and gaining at every jump, and his heartfroze with terror. The balsams and spruces were all too low for safety. A little way before him he saw a small birch. If he could only make thathe might escape. Summoning all his strength he rushed for the tree, the bear closing fast upon him. Could he spring up out of reach of thebear's awful claws?

Two yards from the tree he heard an angry snap and snarl at his heels. With a cry, he dropped his gun, and springing for the lowest bough, drewup his legs quickly after him with the horrible feeling of havingthem ripped asunder. To his amazement he found that the bear was notscrambling up the tree after him, but was still some paces off, withFido skirmishing at long range. It was Fido's timely nip that hadbrought him to a sudden halt, and allowed Hughie to make his climb insafety. 

"Good dog, Fido. Sic him! Sic him, old fellow!" cried out Hughie, butFido was new to this kind of warfare, and at every jump of the ragingbrute he fled into the brush with his tail between his legs, returning, however, to the attack as the bear retired. 

After driving Fido off, the bear rushed at the tree, and in a fury begantearing up its roots. Then, as if realizing the futility of this, heflung himself upon its trunk and began shaking it with great violencefrom side to side. 

Hughie soon saw that the tree would not long stand such an attack. Heslipped down to the lowest bough so that his weight might be taken fromthe swaying top, and encouraging Fido, awaited results. 

He found himself singularly cool. Having escaped immediate danger, thehunter's instinct awoke within him, and he longed to get that bear. If he only had his gun, he would soon settle him, but the bear, unfortunately, had possession of that. He began hurriedly to cut off asstout a branch as he could to make himself a club. He was not a momenttoo soon, for the bear, realizing that he could neither tear up the treeby the roots nor shake his enemy out of it, decided, apparently, to goup for him. 

He first set himself to get rid of Fido, which he partially succeededin doing by chasing him a long distance off. Then, with a great rush, heflew at the tree, and with amazing rapidity began to climb. 

Hughie, surprised by this swift attack, hastened to climb to the higherbranches, but in a moment he saw that this would be fatal. Rememberingthat the bear is like the dog in his sensitive parts, he descended tomeet his advancing foe, and reaching down, hit him a sharp blow onthe snout. With a roar of rage and surprise the bear let go hishold, slipped to the ground, and began to tear up the earth, sneezingviolently. 

"Oh, if I only had that gun, " groaned Hughie, "I'd get him. And if hegets away after Fido again, I believe I'll try it. "

The bear now set himself to plan some new form of attack. He had beenwounded, but only enough to enrage him, and his fury served to fix morefirmly in his head the single purpose of getting into his grip thisenemy of his in the tree, whom he appeared to have so nearly at hismercy. 

Whatever his new plan might be, a necessary preliminary was getting ridof Fido, and this he proceeded to do. Round about the trees he pursuedhim, getting farther and farther away from the birch, till Hughie, watching his chance, slipped down the tree and ran for his gun. But nosooner had he stooped for it than the bear saw the move, and with anangry roar rushed for him. 

Once more Hughie sprang for his branch, but the gun caught in the boughsand he slipped to the ground, the bear within striking distance. With acry he sprang again, reached his bough and drew himself up, holding hisprecious gun safe, wondering how he had escaped. Again it was Fido thathad saved him, for as the bear had gathered himself to spring, Fido, seeing his chance, rushed boldly in, and flinging himself upon the hindleg of the enraged brute, held fast. It was the boy's salvation, butalas! it was Fido's destruction, for wheeling suddenly, the bear strucka swift downward blow with his powerful front paw, and tore the wholeside of the faithful brute wide open. With a howl, poor Fido draggedhimself away out of reach and lay down, moaning pitifully. 

The bear, realizing that he had got rid of one foe, now proceeded morecautiously to deal with the other, and began warily climbing the tree, keeping his wicked little eyes fixed upon Hughie. 

Meantime, Hughie was loading his gun with all speed. He emptied hispowder-horn into the muzzle, and with the bear coming slowly nearer, began to search for his bullets. Through one pocket after another histrembling fingers flew, while with the butt of his gun he menaced hisapproaching enemy. 

"Where are those bullets?" he groaned. "Ah, here they are!" diving intohis trousers pocket. "Fool of a place to keep them, too!"

He took a handful of slugs and bullets, poured them into his gun, rammeddown a wadding of leaves upon all, retreating as he did so to the higherlimbs, the bear following him steadily. But just as he had his capsecurely fixed upon the nipple, the bear suddenly revealed his plan. Holding by his front paws, he threw his hind legs off from the trunk. Itwas his usual method of felling trees. The tree swayed and bent till thetop almost touched the ground. But Hughie, with his legs wreathed roundthe trunk, brought his gun to his shoulder, and with its muzzle almosttouching the breast of the hanging brute, pulled the trigger. 

There was a terrific report, the bear dropped in a heap from the tree, and Hughie was hurled violently to the ground some distance away, partially stunned. He raised himself to see the bear struggle up to asitting position, and gnashing his teeth, and flinging blood and foamfrom his mouth, begin to drag himself toward him. He was conscious ofa languid indifference, and found himself wondering how long the bearwould take to cover the distance. 

But while he was thus cogitating there was a sharp, quick bark, and agreat black form hurled itself at the bear's throat and bore the fiercebrute to the ground. 

Drawing a long sigh, Hughie sank back to the ground, with the sound of afar-away shot in his ears, and darkness veiling his eyes. 

He was awakened by Don's voice anxiously calling him. 

"Are you hurt much, Hughie? Did he squeeze you?"

Hughie sat up, blinking stupidly. 

"What?" he asked. "Who?"

"Why, the bear, of course. "

"The bear? No. Man! It's too bad you weren't here, Don, " he went on, rousing himself. "He can't be gone far. "

"Not very, " said Don, laughing loud. "Yonder he lies. "

Hughie turned his head and gazed, wondering, at the great black massover which Don's black dogs were standing guard, and sniffing withsupreme satisfaction. 

Then all came back to him. 

"Where's Fido?" he asked, rising. "Yes, it was Fido saved me, for sure. He tackled the bear every time he rushed at me, and hung onto him justas I climbed the tree the second time. "

As he spoke he walked over to the place where he had last seen thedog. A little farther on, behind a spruce-tree, they found poor Fido, horribly mangled and dead. 

Hughie stooped down over him. "Poor old boy, poor old Fido, " he said, ina low voice, stroking his head. 

Don turned away and walked whistling toward the bear. As he sat besidethe black carcass his two dogs came to him. He threw his arms roundthem, saying, "Poor old Blackie! Poor Nigger!" and he understood howHughie was feeling behind the spruce-tree beside the faithful dog thathad given him his life. 

As he sat there waiting for Hughie, he heard voices. 

"Horo!" he shouted. 

"Where are you? Is that you, Don?" It was his father's voice. 

"Yes, here we are. "

"Is Hughie there?" inquired another voice. 

"Losh me! that's the minister, " said Don. "Yes, all right, " he criedaloud, as up came Long John Cameron and the minister, with Fusie and astranger bringing up the rear. 

"Fine work, this. You're fine fellows, indeed, " cried Long John, "frightening people in this way. "

"Where is Hughie?" said the minister, sternly. 

Hughie came from behind the brush, hurriedly wiping his eyes. "Here, father, " he said. 

"And what are you doing here at this hour of the night, pray?" said theminister, angrily, turning toward him. 

"I couldn't get home very well, " replied Hughie. 

"And why not, pray? Don't begin any excuses with me, sir. " Nothingannoyed the minister as an attempt to excuse ill-doing. 

"I guess he would have been glad enough to have got home half an hourago, sir, " broke in Don, laughing. "Look there. " He pointed to the bearlying dead, with Nigger standing over him. 

"The Lord save us!" said Long John Cameron, himself the greatest amongthe hunters of the county. "What do you say? And how did you get him?Jee-ru-piter! he's a grand one. "

The old man, the minister, and Don walked about the bear in admiringprocession. 

"Yon's a terrible gash, " said Long John, pointing to a gaping wound inthe breast. "Was that your Snider, Don?"

"Not a bit of it, father. The bear's Hughie's. He killed him himself. "

"Losh me! And you don't tell me! And how did you manage that, Hughie?"

"He chased me up that tree, and I guess would have got me only forFido. "

The minister gasped. 

"Got you? Was he as near as that?"

"He wasn't three feet away, " said Hughie, and with that he proceeded togive, in his most graphic style, a description of his great fight withthe bear. 

"When I heard the first shot, " said Don, "I was away across the swamp. I tell you I tore back here, and when I came, what did I see but Hughieand Mr. Bear both sitting down and looking coolly at each other a fewyards apart. And then Nigger downed him and I put a bullet into hisheart. " Don was greatly delighted, and extremely proud of Hughie'sachievement. 

"And how did you know about it?" asked Don of his father. 

"It was the minister here came after me. "

"Yes, " said the minister, "it was Fusie told me you had gone off on abear hunt, and so I went along to the Cameron's with Mr. Craven here, tosee if you had got home. "

Meantime, Mr. Craven had been looking Hughie over. 

"Mighty plucky thing, " he said. "Great nerve, " and he lapsed intosilence, while Fusie could not contain himself, but danced from one footto the other with excited exclamations. 

The minister had come out intending, as he said, "to teach that boy alesson that he would remember, " but as he listened to Hughie's story, his anger gave place to a great thankfulness. 

"It was a great mercy, my boy, " he said at length, when he was quitesure of his voice, "that you had Fido with you. "

"Yes, indeed, father, " said Hughie. "It was Fido saved me. "

"It was the Lord's goodness, " said the minister, solemnly. 

"And a great mercy, " said Long John, "that your lad kept his head andshowed such courage. You have reason to be proud of him. "

The minister said nothing just then, but at home, when recounting theexploit to the mother, he could hardly contain his pride in his son. 

"Never thought the boy would have a nerve like that, he's so excitable. I had rather he killed that bear than win a medal at the university. "

The mother sat silent through all the story, her cheek growing more andmore pale, but not a word did she say until the tale was done, and thenshe said, "'Who delivereth thee from destruction. '"

"A little like David, mother, wasn't it?" said Hughie; but though therewas a smile on his face, his manner and tone were earnest enough. 

"Yes, " said his mother, "a good deal like David, for it was the same Godthat delivered you both. "

"Rather hard to cut Fido out of his share of the glory, " said Mr. Craven, "not to speak of a cool head and a steady nerve. "

Mrs. Murray regarded him for a moment or two in silence, as ifmeditating an answer, but finally she only said, "We shall cut no oneout of the glory due to him. "

At the supper-table the whole affair was discussed in all its bearings. In this discussion Hughie took little part, making light of his exploit, and giving most of the credit to Fido, and the mother wondered at theunusual reserve and gravity that had fallen upon her boy. Indeed, Hughiewas wondering at himself. He had a strange new feeling in his heart. He had done a man's deed, and for the first time in his life he felt itunnecessary to glory in his deeds. He had come to a new experience, thatgreat deeds need no voice to proclaim them. During the thrilling momentsof that terrible hour he had entered the borderland of manhood, and theawe of that new world was now upon his spirit. 

It was chiefly this new experience of his that was sobering him, but ithelped him not a little to check his wonted boyish exuberance thatat the table opposite him sat a strange young man, across whose dark, magnetic face there flitted, now and then, a lazy, cynical smile. Hughie feared that lazy smile, and he felt that it would shrivel intoself-contempt any feeling of boastfulness. 

The mother and Hughie said little to each other, waiting to be alone, and after Hughie had gone to his room his mother talked long with him, but when Mr. Craven, on his way to bed, heard the low, quiet tones ofthe mother's voice through the shut door, he knew it was not to Hughieshe was speaking, and the smile upon his face lost a little of itscynicism. 

Next day there was no smile when he stood with Hughie under thebirch-tree, watching the lad hew flat one side, but gravely enough hetook the paper on which Hughie had written, "Fido, Sept. 13th, 18--, "saying as he did so, "I shall cut this for you. It is good to rememberbrave deeds. "

CHAPTER XI

JOHN CRAVEN'S METHOD

Mr. John Craven could not be said to take his school-teaching seriously;and indeed, any one looking at his face would hardly expect him to takeanything seriously, and certainly those who in his college days followedand courted and kept pace with Jack Craven, and knew his smile, wouldhave expected from him anything other than seriousness. He appearedto himself to be enacting a kind of grim comedy, exile as he was in aforeign land, among people of a strange tongue. 

He knew absolutely nothing of pedagogical method, and consequently heignored all rules and precedents in the teaching and conduct of theschool. His discipline was of a most fantastic kind. He had a feelingthat all lessons were a bore, therefore he would assign the shortest andeasiest of tasks. But having assigned the tasks, he expected perfectionin recitation, and impressed his pupils with the idea that nothing lesswould pass. His ideas of order were of the loosest kind, and hence thenoise at times was such that even the older pupils found it unbearable;but when the hour for recitation came, somehow a deathlike stillnessfell upon the school, and the unready shivered with dread apprehension. And yet he never thrashed the boys; but his fear lay upon them, for hiseyes held the delinquent with such an intensity of magnetic, penetratingpower that the unhappy wretch felt as if any kind of calamity mightbefall him. 

When one looked at John Craven's face, it was the eyes that caught andheld the attention. They were black, without either gleam or glitter, indeed almost dull--a lady once called them "smoky eyes. " They looked, under lazy, half-drooping lids, like things asleep, except in momentsof passion, when there appeared, far down, a glowing fire, red andterrible. At such moments it seemed as if, looking through these, onewere catching sight of a soul ablaze. They were like the dull glow of afurnace through an inky night. 

He was constitutionally and habitually lazy, but in a reading lesson hewould rouse himself at times, and by his utterance of a single linemake the whole school sit erect. Friday afternoon he gave up to what hecalled "the cultivation of the finer arts. " On that afternoon he wouldbring his violin and teach the children singing, hear them read andrecite, and read for them himself; and no greater punishment could beimposed upon the school than the loss of this afternoon. 

"Man alive! Thomas, he's mighty queer, " Hughie explained to his friend. "When he sits there with his feet on the stove smoking away and readingsomething or other, and letting them all gabble like a lot of ducks, it just makes me mad. But when he wakes up he puts the fear of death onyou, and when he reads he makes you shiver through and through. You knowthat long rigmarole, 'Friends, Romans, countrymen'? I used to hateit. Well, sir, he told us about it last Friday. You know, on Fridayafternoons we don't do any work, but just have songs and reading, andthat sort of thing. Well, sir, last Friday he told us about the big rowin Rome, and how Caesar was murdered, and then he read that thing tous. By gimmini whack! it made me hot and cold. I could hardly keep fromyelling, and every one was white. And then he read that other thing, youknow, about Little Nell. Used to make me sick, but, my goodness alive!do you know, before he got through the girls were wiping their eyes, andI was almost as bad, and you could have heard a pin drop. He's mightyqueer, though, lazy as the mischief, and always smiling and smiling, andyet you don't feel like smiling back. "

"Do you like him?" asked Thomas, bluntly. 

"Dunno. I'd like to, but he won't let you, somehow. Just smiles at you, and you feel kind of small. "

The reports about the master were conflicting and disquieting, andalthough Hughie was himself doubtful, he stood up vehemently for him athome. 

"But, Hughie, " protested the minister, discussing these reports, "I amtold that he actually smokes in school. "

Hughie was silent. 

"Answer me! Does he smoke in school hours?"

"Well, " confessed Hughie, reluctantly, "he does sometimes, but onlyafter he gives us all our work to do. "

"Smoke in school hours!" ejaculated Mrs. Murray, horrified. 

"Well, what's the harm in that? Father smokes. "

"But he doesn't smoke when he is preaching, " said the mother. 

"No, but he smokes right afterwards. "

"But not in church. "

"Well, perhaps not in church, but school's different. And anyway, hemakes them read better, and write better too, " said Hughie, stoutly. 

"Certainly, " said his father, "he is a most remarkable man. A mostunusual man. "

"What about your sums, Hughie?" asked his mother. 

"Don't know. He doesn't bother much with that sort of thing, and I'mjust as glad. "

"You ought really to speak to him about it, " said Mrs. Murray, afterHughie had left the room. 

"Well, my dear, " said the minister, smiling, "you heard what Hughiesaid. It would be rather awkward for me to speak to him about smoking. Ithink, perhaps, you had better do it. "

"I am afraid, " said his wife, with a slight laugh, "it would be just asawkward for me. I wonder what those Friday afternoons of his mean, " shecontinued. 

"I am sure I don't know, but everywhere throughout the section I hearthe children speak of them. We'll just drop in and see. I ought to visitthe school, you know, very soon. "

And so they did. The master was surprised, and for a moment appeareduncertain what to do. He offered to put the classes through theirregular lessons, but at once there was a noisy outcry against this onthe part of the school, which, however, was effectually and immediatelyquelled by the quiet suggestion on the master's part that anything butperfect order would be fatal to the programme. And upon the ministerrequesting that the usual exercises proceed, the master smilinglyagreed. 

"We make Friday afternoons, " he said, "at once a kind of reward day forgood work during the week, and an opportunity for the cultivation ofsome of the finer arts. "

And certainly he was a master in this business. He had strong dramaticinstincts, and a remarkable power to stimulate and draw forth theemotions. 

When the programme of singing, recitations, and violin-playing wasfinished, there were insistent calls on every side for "Mark Antony. " Itappeared to be the 'piece de resistance' in the minds of the children. 

"What does this mean?" inquired the minister, as the master stoodsmiling at his pupils. 

"Oh, they are demanding a little high tragedy, " he said, "which Isometimes give them. It assists in their reading lessons, " he explained, apologetically, and with that he gave them what Hughie called, "thatrigmarole beginning, 'Friends, Romans, countrymen, '" Mark Antony'simmortal oration. 

"Well, " said the minister, as they drove away from the school, "what doyou think of that, now?"

"Marvelous!" exclaimed his wife. "What dramatic power, what insight, what interpretation!"

"You may say so, " exclaimed her husband. "What an actor he would make!"

"Yes, " said his wife, "or what a minister he would make! I understand, now, his wonderful influence over Hughie, and I am afraid. "

"O, he can't do Hughie any harm with things like that, " replied herhusband, emphatically. 

"No, but Hughie now and then repeats some of his sayings about--aboutreligion and religious convictions, that I don't like. And then he ishanging about that Twentieth store altogether too much, and I fanciedI noticed something strange about him last Friday evening when he camehome so late. "

"O, nonsense, " said the minister. "His reputation has prejudiced you, and that is not fair, and your imagination does the rest. "

"Well, it is a great pity that he should not do something with himself, "replied his wife. "There are great possibilities in that young man. "

"He does not take himself seriously enough, " said her husband. "That isthe chief trouble with him. "

And this was apparently Jack Craven's opinion of himself, as is evidentfrom his letter to his college friend, Ned Maitland. 

"Dear Ned:--

"For the last two months I have been seeking to adjust myself to mysurroundings, and find it no easy business. I have struck the landof the Anakim, for the inhabitants are all of 'tremenjous' size, andindeed, 'tremenjous' in all their ways, more particularly in theirreligion. Religion is all over the place. You are liable to come upon aboy anywhere perched on a fence corner with a New Testament in his hand, and on Sunday the 'tremenjousness' of their religion is overwhelming. Every other interest in life, as meat, drink, and dress, are purelyincidental to the main business of the day, which is the delivering, hearing, and discussing of sermons. 

"The padre, at whose house I am very happily quartered, is a'tremenjous' preacher. He has visions, and gives them to me. He givesme chills and thrills as well, and has discovered to me a conscience, aportion of my anatomy that I had no suspicion of possessing. 

"The congregation is like the preacher. They will sit for two hours, and after a break of a few minutes they will sit again for two hours, listening to sermons; and even the interval is somewhat evenly dividedbetween their bread and cheese in the churchyard and the discussion ofthe sermon they have just listened to. They are great on theology. Oneworthy old party tackled me on my views of the sermon we had just heard;after a little preliminary sparring I went to my corner. I often wonderin what continent I am. 

"The school, a primitive little log affair, has much run to seed, butoffers opportunity for repose. I shall avoid any unnecessary excitementin this connection. 

"In private life the padre is really very decent. We have great smokestogether, and talks. On all subjects he has very decided opinions, andin everything but religion, liberal views. I lure him into philosophicdiscussions, and overwhelm him with my newest and biggest metaphysicalterms, which always reduce his enormous cocksureness to more reasonabledimensions. 

"The minister's wife is quite another proposition. She argues, too, but unfortunately she asks questions, in the meekest way possibleacknowledging her ignorance of my big terms, and insisting upondefinitions and exact meanings, and then it's all over with me. Howshe ever came to this far land, heaven knows, and none but heaven canexplain such waste. Having no kindred soul to talk with, I fancy sheenjoys conversation with myself, (sic) revels in music, is transportedto the fifth heaven by my performance on the violin, but evidentlypities me and regards me as dangerous. But, my dear Maitland, aftera somewhat wide and varied experience of fine ladies, I give you myverdict that here among the Anakim, and in this wild, woody land, isa lady fine and fair and saintly. She will bother me, I know. Her sonHughie (he of the bear), of whom I told you, the lad with the face ofan angel and the temper of an angel, but of a different color--her sonHughie she must make into a scholar. And no wonder, for already he hasattained a remarkable degree of excellence, by the grace, not of thelittle log school, however, I venture to shy. His mother has been athim. But now she feels that something more is needed, and for thatshe turns to me. You will be able to see the humor of it, but not thepathos. She wants to make a man out of her boy, 'a noble, pure-heartedgentleman, ' and this she lays upon me! Did I hear you laugh? Smile not, it is the most tragic of pathos. Upon me, Jack Craven, the despair ofthe professors, the terror of the watch, the--alas! you know only toowell. My tongue clave to the roof of my mouth, and before I could cry, 'Heaven forbid that I should have a hand in the making of your boy!'she accepted my pledge to do her desire for her young angel with theOTHER-angelic temper. 

"And now, my dear Ned, is it for my sins that I am thus pursued? Whatis awaiting me I know not. What I shall do with the young cub I havenot the ghostliest shadow of an idea. Shall I begin by thrashing himsoundly? I have refrained so far; I hate the role of executioner. Orshall I teach him boxing? The gloves are a great educator, and are attimes what the padre would call 'means of grace. '

"But what will become of me? Shall I become prematurely aged, or shall Ibecome a saint? Expect anything from your most devoted, but most sorelybored and perplexed, "J. C. "

CHAPTER XII

THE DOWNFALL

In one point the master was a great disappointment to Hughie; he couldnot be persuaded to play shinny. The usual challenge had come up fromthe Front, with its more than usual insolence, and Hughie, who nowranked himself among the big boys, felt the shame and humiliation to beintolerable. By the most strenuous exertions he started the gamegoing with the first fall of snow, but it was difficult to work upany enthusiasm for the game in the face of Foxy's very determined andweighty opposition, backed by the master's lazy indifference. For, in spite of Hughie's contempt and open sneers, Foxy had determined toreopen his store with new and glowing attractions. He seemed to have alarger command of capital than ever, and he added several very importantdepartments to his financial undertaking. 

The rivalry between Hughie and Foxy had become acute, but besides this, there was in Hughie's heart a pent-up fierceness and longing for revengethat he could with difficulty control. And though he felt pretty certainthat in an encounter with Foxy he would come off second best, and thoughin consequence he delayed that encounter as long as possible, he neverlet Foxy suspect his fear of him, and waited with some anxiety for theinevitable crisis. 

Upon one thing Hughie was resolved, that the challenge from the Frontshould be accepted, and that they should no longer bear the taunt ofcowardice, but should make a try, even though it meant certain defeat. 

His first step had been the organization of the shinny club. His nextstep was to awaken the interest of the master. But in vain he enlargedupon the boastfulness and insolence of the Front; in vain he recountedthe achievements of their heroes of old, who in those brave days had wonvictory and fame over all comers for their school and county; the masterwould not be roused to anything more than a languid interest in thegame. And this was hardly to be wondered at, for shinny in the snow uponthe roadway in front of the school was none too exciting. But fromthe day when the game was transferred to the mill-pond, one Saturdayafternoon when the North and South met in battle, the master'sindifference vanished, for it turned out that he was an enthusiasticskater, and as Hughie said, "a whirlwind on the ice. "

After that day shinny was played only upon the ice, and the master, assuming the position of coach, instituted a more scientific style ofgame, and worked out a system of combined play that made even smallboys dangerous opponents to boys twice their size and weight. Under hisguidance it was that the challenge to the Front was so worded as tomake the contest a game on ice, and to limit the number of the team toeleven. Formerly the number had been somewhat indefinite, varying fromfifteen to twenty, and the style of play a general melee. Hughie wasmade captain of the shinny team, and set himself, under the master'sdirection, to perfect their combination and team play. 

The master's unexpected interest in the shinny game was the first andchief cause of Foxy's downfall as leader of the school, and if Hughiehad possessed his soul in patience he might have enjoyed thespectacle of Foxy's overthrow without involving himself in the painfulconsequences which his thirst for vengeance and his vehement desire toaccomplish Foxy's ruin brought upon him. 

The story of the culmination of the rivalry between Hughie and Foxy ispreserved in John Craven's second letter to his friend Edward Maitland. The letter also gives an account of the master's own undoing--an undoingwhich bore fruit to the end of his life. 

"Dear Ned:--

"I hasten to correct the false impression my previous letter must haveconveyed to you. It occurs to me that I suggested that this schoolafforded unrivaled opportunities for repose. Further acquaintancereveals to me the fact that it is the seething center of the mostnerve-racking excitement. The life of the school is reflected in thelife of the community, and the throbs of excitement that vibrate fromthe school are felt in every home of the section. We are in the thickof preparations for a deadly contest with the insolent, benighted, boastful, but hitherto triumphant Front, in the matter of shinny. Youknow my antipathy to violent sports, and you will find some difficultyin picturing me an enthusiastic trainer and general director of theTwentieth team, flying about, wildly gesticulating with a club, andshrieking orders, imprecations, cautions, encouragements, in the mostfrantic manner, at as furious a company of little devils as ever wentjoyously to battle. 

"Then, as if this were not excitement enough, I am made the unwittingspectator of a truly Homeric contest, bloodier by far than many of thosefought on the plains of windy Troy, between the rival leaders of theschool, to wit, Hughie of the angelic face and OTHER-angelic temper, andan older and much heavier boy, who rejoices in the cognomen of 'Foxy, 'as being accurately descriptive at once of the brilliance of his foliageand of his financial tactics. 

"It appears that for many months this rivalry has existed, but Iam convinced that there is more in the struggle than appears on thesurface. There is some dark and deadly mystery behind it all that onlyadds, of course, to the thrilling interest it holds for me. 

"Long before I arrived on the arena, which was an open space in thewoods in front of what Foxy calls his store, wild shrieks and yells fellupon my ears, as if the aboriginal denizens of the forest had returned. Quietly approaching, I soon guessed the nature of the excitement, andbeing unwilling to interfere until I had thoroughly grasped the ethicaland other import of the situation, I shinned up a tree, and from thispoint of vantage took in the spectacle. It appeared from Foxy's violentaccusations that Hughie had been guilty of wrecking the store, which, by the way, the latter utterly despises and contemns. The followinginteresting and striking conversation took place:

"'What are you doing in my store, anyway?' says he of the brilliantfoliage. 'You're just a thief, that's what you are, and a sneakingthief. '

"Promptly the lie comes back. 'I wasn't touching your rotten stuff!' andagain the lie is exchanged. 

"Immediately there is demand from the spectators that the matter beargued to a demonstration, and thereupon one of the larger boys, wishingto precipitate matters and to furnish a casus belli, puts a chip uponHughie's shoulder and dares Foxy to knock it off. But Hughie flings thechip aside. 

"'Go away with yourself and your chip. I'm not going to fight for anychip. '

"Yells of derision, 'Cowardy, cowardy, custard, ' 'Give him a goodcuffing, Foxy, ' 'He's afraid, ' and so forth. And indeed, Hughie appearsnone too anxious to prove his innocence and integrity upon the big andsolid body of his antagonist. 

"Foxy, much encouraged by the clamor of his friends, deploys in force infront of his foe, shouting, 'Come on, you little thief!'

"'I'm not a thief! I didn't touch one of your things!'

"'Whether you touched my things or not, you're a thief, anyway, and youknow you are. You stole money, and I know it, and you know it yourself. '

"To this Hughie strangely enough makes no reply, wherein lies themystery. But though he makes no reply he faces up boldly to Foxy andoffers battle. This is evidently a surprise to Foxy, who contentshimself with threats as to what he can do with his one hand tied behindhis back, and what he will do in a minute, while Hughie waits, wastingno strength upon words. 

"Finally Foxy strides to his store door, and apparently urged to frenzyby the sight of the wreckage therein, comes back and lands a sharp cuffon his antagonist's ear. 

"It is all that is needed. As if he had touched a spring, Hughie flewat him wildly, inconsequently making a windmill of his arms. Butfortunately he runs foul of one of Foxy's big fists, and falls backwith spouting nose. Enthusiastic yells from Foxy's following. And Foxy, having done much better than he expected, is encouraged to pursue hisadvantage. 

"Meantime the blood is being mopped off Hughie's face with a snowball, his tears flowing equally with his blood. 

"'Wait till to-morrow, ' urges Fusie, his little French fidus Achates. 

"'To-morrow!' yells Hughie, suddenly. 'No, but now! I'll kill the lying, sneaking, white-faced beast now, or I'll die myself!' after which heroicresolve he flings himself, blood and tears, upon the waiting Foxy, andthis time with better result, for Foxy, waiting the attack with arms upand eyes shut, finds himself pummeled all over the face, and after a fewmoments of ineffectual resistance, turns, and in quite the Homeric wayseeks safety in flight, followed by the furious and vengeful Achilles, and the jeering shouts of the bloodthirsty but disappointed rabble. 

"As I have said, the mystery behind it remains unsolved, but Foxy'sreign is at an end, and with him goes the store, for which I am devoutlythankful. 

"I would my tale ended here with the downfall of Foxy, but, my dear Ned, I have to record a sadder and more humiliating downfall than that--theabject and utter collapse of my noble self. I have once more playedthe fool, and played into the hands of the devil, mine own familiar andwell-beloved devil. 

"The occasion I need not enlarge upon; it always waits. A long day'sskate, a late supper with some of the wilder and more reckless outcastsof this steady-going community that frequent the back store, results inmy appearing at the manse door late at night, very unsteady of leg andincoherent of speech. By a most unhappy chance, a most scurvy trickmy familiar devil played upon me, the door is opened by the minister'swife. I can see her look of fear, horror, and loathing yet. It didmore to pull me together than a cold bath, so that I saved myself thehumiliation of speech and escaped to my room. 

"And now, what do you think? Reproaches, objurgations, and finaldismissal on the part of the padre, tearful exhortations to repentanceon the part of his wife? Not a bit. If you believe me, sir, my unhappymisadventure remains a secret with her. She told not a soul. Remarkablyfine, I call that. And what more, think you? A cold and haughty reserve, or a lofty pity, with the fearful expectation of judgment? Not inthe least. Only a little added kindness, a deeper note to the frank, sympathetic interest she has always shown, and that is all. My dearchap, I offered to leave, but when she looked at me with those greathazel-brown eyes of hers and said, 'Why should you go? Would it bebetter for you any place else?' I found myself enjoying the luxury ofan entirely new set of emotions, which I shall not analyze to you. ButI feel more confident than ever that I shall either die early or end inbeing a saint. 

"And now, do you know, she persists in ignoring that anything has takenplace, talks to me about her young men and her hopes for them, the workshe would do for them, and actually asks my assistance! It appears thatever since their Great Revival, which is the beginning of days to them, events being dated from before the Great Revival or after, some ofthese young men have a desire to be ministers, or think they have. It isreally her desire, I suspect, for them. The difficulty is, preparationfor college. In this she asks my help. The enormous incongruity ofthe situation does not appear to strike her, that I, the--too manyunutterable things--should be asked to prepare these young giants, withtheir 'tremenjous' religious convictions, for the ministry; neverthelessI yield myself to do anything and everything she lays upon me. I repeat, I shall without doubt end in being a saint myself, and should not besurprised to find myself with these 'tremenjous' young men on the wayto Holy Orders. Fancy the good Doctor's face! He would suspect a lurkingpleasantry in it all. 

"This letter, I know, will render chaotic all your conceptions of me, and in this chaos of mind I can heartily sympathize. What the nextchapter will be, God only knows! It depends upon how my familiar devilbehaves himself. Meantime, I am parleying with him, and with someanxiety as to the result subscribe myself, "Your friend, "J. C. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST ROUND

The challenge from the Front was for the best two out of three, thefirst game to be played the last day of the year. Steadily, underCraven's coaching, the Twentieth team were perfected in their systematicplay; for although Craven knew nothing of shinny, he had captained thechampion lacrosse team of the province of Quebec, and the same generalrules of defense and attack could be applied with equal success to thegame of shinny. The team was greatly strengthened by the accession ofThomas Finch and Don Cameron, both of whom took up the school again witha view to college. With Thomas in goal, Hughie said he felt as if a bighole had been filled up behind him. 

The master caused a few preliminary skirmishes with neighboring teamsto be played by way of practice, and by the time the end of the year hadcome, he felt confident that the team would not disgrace their school. His confidence was not ill-founded. 

"We have covered ourselves with glory, " he writes to his friend NedMaitland, "for we have whipped to a finish the arrogant and mightyFront. I am more than ever convinced that I shall have to take a fewdays off and get away to Montreal, or some other retired spot, torecover from the excitement of the last week. 

"Under my diligent coaching, in which, knowing nothing whatever ofshinny, I have striven to introduce something of the lacrosse method, our team got into really decent fighting trim. Under the leadership oftheir captain, who has succeeded in infusing his own fierce and furioustemper into his men, they played like little demons, from the drop ofthe ball till the game was scored. 'Furious' is the word, for they andtheir captain play with headlong fury, and that, I might say, is abouttheir only defect, for if they ever should run into a bigger team, whohad any semblance of head about them, and were not merely feet, theywould surely come to grief. 

"I cannot stay to recount our victory. Let it suffice that we weredriven down in two big sleigh-loads by Thomas Finch, the back wall ofour defense, and Don Cameron, who plays in the right of the forwardline, both great, strapping fellows, who are to be eventually, Ibelieve, members of my preparatory class. 

"The Front came forth, cheerful, big, confident, trusting in the mightof their legs. We are told that the Lord taketh no pleasure in the legsof man, and this is true in the game of shinny. Not legs alone, butheart and head win, with anything like equal chances. 

"Game called, 2:30; Captain Hughie has the drop; seizes the ball, passesit to Fusie, who rushes, passes back to Hughie, who has arrived in thevicinity of the enemy's goal, and shoots, swift and straight, a goal. Time, 30 seconds. 

"Again and again my little demons pierce the heavy, solid line of theFront defense, and score, the enemy, big and bewildered, being chieflyoccupied in watching them do it. By six o'clock that evening I had themsafe at the manse in a condition of dazed jubilation, quite unable torealize the magnificence of their achievement. They had driven twelvemiles down, played a two hours' game of shinny, score eight to two, and were back safe and sound, bearing with them victory and some brokenshins, equally proud of both. 

"There is a big supper at the manse, prepared, I believe, with the viewof consolation, but transformed into a feast of triumph, the ministerbeing enthusiastically jubilant over the achievement of his boys, hiswife, if possible, even more so. The heroes feed themselves to fullness, amazing and complete, the minister holds a thanksgiving service, inwhich I have no doubt my little demons most earnestly join, after whichthey depart to shed the radiance of their glory throughout the section. 

"And now I have to recount another experience of mine, quite unique andaltogether inexplicable. It appears that in this remarkable abode--Iwould call it 'The Saint's Rest' were it not for the presence of othersthan saints, and for the additional fact that there is little rest forthe saint who makes her dwelling here--in this abode there prevails thequaint custom of watching the death of the old year and the birth of thenew. It is made the occasion of religious and heart-searching rite. Asthe solemn hour of midnight draws on, a silence falls upon the family, all of whom, with the exception of the newest infant, are present. It isthe family festival of the year. 

"'And what will they be doing at your home, Mr. Craven?' inquires theminister. The contrast that rose before my mind was vivid enough, forhaving received my invitation to a big dance, I knew my sweet sisterswould be having a jolly wild time about that moment. My answer, given Ifeel in a somewhat flippant tone, appears to shock my shinny captain ofthe angelic face, who casts a honor-stricken glance at his mother, andwaits for the word of reproof that he thinks is due from the padre'slips. 

"But before it falls the mother interposes with 'They will missyou greatly this evening. ' It was rather neatly done, and I think Iappreciated it. 

"The rite proceeds. The initial ceremony is the repeating of a verse ofScripture all round, and to save my life nothing comes to my mind butthe words, 'Remember Lot's wife. ' As I cannot see the appropriateness ofthe quotation, I pass. 

"Five minutes before the stroke of twelve, they sing the Scottishparaphrase beginning, 'O God of Bethel. ' I do not suppose you ever heardit, but it is a beautiful hymn, and singularly appropriate to thehour. In this I lend assistance with my violin, the tune being the veryfamiliar one of 'Auld Lang Syne, ' associated in my mind, however, withoccasions somewhat widely diverse from this. I assure you I am thankfulthat my part is instrumental, for the whole business is getting onto myemotions in a disturbing manner, and especially when I allow my eyes tolinger for a moment or two on the face of the lady, the center of thecircle, who is deliberately throwing away her fine culture and heraltogether beautiful soul upon the Anakim here, and with a beautifulunconsciousness of anything like sacrifice, is now thanking God for theprivilege of doing so. I have some moments of rare emotional luxury, those moments that are next to tears. 

"Then the padre offers one of those heart-racking prayers of his that, whether they reach anything outside or not, somehow get down intoone's vitals, and stir up remorses, and self-condemnings, and longingsunutterable. Then they all kiss the mother and wish her a HappyNew-Year. 

"My boy, my dear boy, I have never known deeper moments than those. And when I went to shake hands with her, she seemed so like a queenreceiving homage, that without seeming to feel I was making a foolof myself, I did the Queen Victoria act, and saluted her hand. It iswonderful how great moments discover the lady to you. She must haveknown how I was feeling, for with a very beautiful grace, she said, 'Letme be your mother for to-night, ' and by Jove, she kissed me. I have beenkissed before, and have kissed some women in my time, but that is theonly kiss I can remember, and s'help me Bob, I'll never kiss anothertill I kiss my wife. 

"And then and there, Maitland, I swore by all that I knew of God, and byeverything sacred in life, that I'd quit the past and be worthy of hertrust; for the mischief of it is, she will persist in trusting you, putsyou on your honor noblesse oblige business, and all that. I think I toldyou that I might end in being a saint. That dream I have surrendered, but, by the grace of heaven, I'm going to try to be a man. And I amgoing to play shinny with those boys, and if I can help them to win thatmatch, and the big game of life, I will do it. 

"As witness my hand and seal, this first day of January, 18--

"J. C. "

CHAPTER XIV

THE FINAL ROUND

After the New-Year the school filled up with big boys, some of whom hadreturned with the idea of joining the preparatory class for college, which the minister had persuaded John Craven to organize. 

Shinny, however, became the absorbing interest for all the boys, bothbig and little. This interest was intensified by the rumors that came upfrom the Front, for it was noised through the Twentieth section that DanMunro, whose father was a cousin of Archie Munro, the former teacher, had come from Marrintown and taken charge of the Front school, and that, being used to the ice game, and being full of tricks and swift asa bird, he was an exceedingly dangerous man. More than that, he wastraining his team with his own tricks, and had got back to school someof the old players, among whom were no less renowned personages than HecRoss and Jimmie "Ben. " Jimmie Ben, to wit, James son of Benjamin McEwen, was more famed for his prowess as a fighter than for his knowledgeof the game of shinny, but every one who saw him play said he was "aterror. " Further, it was rumored that there was a chance of themgetting for goal Farquhar McRae, "Little Farquhar, " or "Farquhar Bheg"(pronounced "vaick"), as he was euphoniously called, who presumably hadonce been little, but could no longer claim to be so, seeing that he wassix feet, and weighed two hundred pounds. 

It behooved the Twentieth team, therefore, to bestir themselves with alldiligence, and in this matter Hughie gave no rest either to himself orto any one else likely to be of use in perfecting his team. For Hughiehad been unanimously chosen captain, in spite of his protests that themaster or one of the big boys should hold that place. But none of thebig boys knew the new game as perfectly as Hughie, and the master hadabsolutely refused, saying, "You beat them once, Hughie, and you can doit again. " And as the days and weeks went on, Hughie fully justified theteam's choice of him as captain. He developed a genius for organization, a sureness of judgment, and a tact in management, as well as a skill andspeed in play, that won the confidence of every member of his team. Heset himself resolutely to banish any remaining relics of the ancientstyle of play. In the old game every one rushed to hit the ball withoutregard to direction or distance, and the consequence was, that from endto end of the field a mob of yelling, stick-waving players more or lessaimlessly followed in the wake of the ball. But Hughie and the masterchanged all that, forced the men to play in their positions, trainingthem never to drive wildly forward, but to pass to a man, and to keeptheir clubs down and their mouths shut. 

The striking characteristic of Hughie's own playing was a certainfierceness, amounting almost to fury, so that when he was in the attackhe played for every ounce there was in him. His chief weakness lay inhis tempestuous temper, which he found difficult to command, but as heworked his men from day to day, and week to week, the responsibility ofhis position and the magnitude of the issues at stake helped him to aself-control quite remarkable in him. 

As the fateful day drew near the whole section was stirred with anintense interest and excitement, in which even the grave and solemnelders shared, and to a greater degree, the minister and his wife. 

At length the day, as all days great and small, actually arrived. A bigcrowd awaited the appearance of "the folks from the Front. " They wereexpected about two, but it was not till half-past that there was heardin the distance the sound of the bagpipes. 

"Here they are! That's Alan the cooper's pipes, " was the cry, andbefore long, sure enough there appeared Alphonse le Roque driving hisFrench-Canadian team, the joy and pride of his heart, for Alphonse wasa born horse-trainer, and had taught his French-Canadians manyextraordinary tricks. On the dead gallop he approached the crowd tillwithin a few yards, when, at a sudden command, they threw themselvesupon their haunches, and came almost to a standstill. With a crack ofhis long whip Alphonse gave the command, "Deesplay yousef!" At once hisstout little team began to toss their beautiful heads, and broke intoa series of prancing curves that would not have shamed a pair ofgreyhounds. Then, as they drew up to the stopping-point, he gatheredup his lines, and with another crack of his whip, cried, "Salute zeladies!" when, with true equine courtesy, they rose upon their hind legsand gracefully pawed the empty air. Finally, after depositing his loadamid the admiring exclamations of the crowd, he touched their tails withthe point of his whip, gave a sudden "Whish!" and like hounds from theleash his horses sprang off at full gallop. 

One after another the teams from the Front swung round and emptied theirloads. 

"Man! what a crowd!" said Hughie to Don. "There must be a hundred atleast. "

"Yes, and there's Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben, " said Don, "and sure enough, Farquhar Begh. We'll be catching it to-day, whatever, " continued Don, cheerfully. 

"Pshaw! we licked as big men before. It isn't size, " said Hughie, withfar more confidence than he felt. 

It was half an hour before the players were ready to begin. The rules ofthe game were few and simple. The play was to be one hour each way, with a quarter of an hour rest between. There was to be no tripping, no hitting on the shins when the ball was out of the scrimmage, and alldisputes were to be settled by the umpire, who on this occasion was themaster of the Sixteenth school. 

"He's no good, " grumbled Hughie to his mother, who was even more excitedthan her boy himself. "He can't play himself, and he's too easy scared. "

"Never mind, " said his mother, brightly; "perhaps he won't have much todo. "

"Much to do! Well, there's Jimmie Ben, and he's an awful fighter, butI'm not going to let him frighten me, " said Hughie, savagely; "andthere's Dan Munro, too, they say he's a terror, and Hec Ross. Of coursewe've got just as good men, but they won't fight. Why, Johnnie 'BigDuncan' and Don, there, are as good as any of them, but they won'tfight. "

The mother smiled a little. 

"What a pity! But why should they fight? Fighting is not shinny. "

"No, that's what the master says. And he's right enough, too, but it'sawful hard when a fellow doesn't play fair, when he trips you up orclubs you on the shins when you're not near the ball. You feel likehitting him back. "

"Yes, but that's the very time to show self-control. "

"I know. And that's what the master says. "

"Of course it is, " went on his mother. "That's what the game is for, toteach the boys to command their tempers. You remember 'he that rulethhis spirit is better than he that taketh a city. '

"O, it's all right, " said Hughie, "and easy enough to talk about. "

"What's easy enough to talk about?" asked the master, coming up. 

"Taking a city, " said Mrs. Murray, smiling at him. 

The master looked puzzled. 

"Mother means, " said Hughie, "keeping one's temper in shinny. But I'mtelling her it's pretty hard when a fellow clubs you on the shins whenyou're away from the ball. "

"Yes, of course it's hard, " said the master, "but it's better than beinga cad, " which brought a quick flush to Hughie's face, but helped himmore than anything else to keep himself in hand that day. 

"Can't understand a man, " said the master, "who goes into a game andthen quits it to fight. If it's fighting, why fight, but if it's shinny, play the game. Big team against us, eh, captain?" he continued, lookingat the Front men, who were taking a preliminary spin upon the ice, "andpretty swift, too. "

"If they play fair, I don't mind, " said Hughie. "I'm not afraid of them;but if they get slugging--"

"Well, if they get slugging, " said the master, "we'll play the game andwin, sure. "

"Well, it's time to begin, " said Hughie, and with a good by to hismother he turned away. 

"Remember, take a city, " she called out after him. 

"All right, muzzie, I'll remember. "

In a few moments the teams were in position opposite each other. Theteam from the Front made a formidable show in weight and muscle. At theright of the forward line stood the redoubtable Dan Munro, the stocky, tricky, fierce captain of the Front team, and with him three rathersmall boys in red shirts. The defense consisted of Hec Ross, themuch-famed and much-feared Jimmie Ben, while in goal, sure enough, stoodthe immense and solid bulk of Farquhar Bheg. The center was held by fourboys of fair size and weight. 

In the Twentieth team the forward line was composed of Jack Ross, CurlyRoss's brother, Fusie, Davie Scotch, and Don Cameron. The center wasplayed by Hughie, with three little chaps who made up for their lack ofweight by their speed and skill. The defense consisted of Johnnie "BigDuncan, " to wit, John, the son of Big Duncan Campbell, on the left hand, and the master on the right, backed up by Thomas Finch in goal, who muchagainst his will was in the game that day. His heart was heavy withinhim, for he saw, not the gleaming ice and the crowding players, but "theroom" at home, and his mother, with her pale, patient face, sitting inher chair. His father, he knew, would be beside her, and Jessac would beflitting about. "But for all that, she'll have a long day, " he said tohimself, for only his loyalty to the school and to Hughie had broughthim to the game that day. 

When play was called, Hughie, with Fusie immediately behind him, stoodfacing Dan in the center with one of the little Red Shirts at his back. It was Dan's drop. He made a pass or two, then shot between his legsto a Red Shirt, who, upon receiving, passed far out to Red Shirt numberthree, who flew along the outer edge and returned swiftly to Dan, nowfar up the other side. Like the wind Dan sped down the line, dodgedJohnnie Big Duncan easily, and shot from the corner, straight, swift, and true, a goal. 

"One for the Front!" Eleven shinny-sticks went up in the air, thebagpipes struck up a wild refrain, big Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben danced ahuge, unwieldy, but altogether jubilant dance round each other, and thensettled down to their places, for it was Hughie's drop. 

Hughie took the ball from the umpire and faced Dan with some degree ofnervousness, for Dan was heavy and strong, and full of confidence. Aftera little manoeuvering he dropped the ball between Dan's legs, but Dan, instead of attending to the ball, charged full upon him and laid himflat, while one of the Red Shirts, seizing the ball, flew off withit, supported by a friendly Red Shirt on either side of him, with Danfollowing hard. 

Right through the crowd dodged the Red Shirts till they came up to theTwentieth line of defense, when forth came Johnnie Big Duncan in swiftattack. But the little Red Shirt who had the ball, touching it slightlyto the right, tangled himself up in Johnnie Big Duncan's legs and senthim sprawling, while Dan swiped the ball to another Red Shirt who hadslipped in behind the master, for there was no such foolishness asoff-side in that game. Like lightning the Red Shirt caught the ball, andrushing at Thomas, shot furiously at close quarters. Goal number two forthe Front!

Again on all sides rose frantic cheers. "The Front! The Front! Murroforever!" Two games had been won, and not a Twentieth man had touchedthe ball. With furtive, uncertain glances the men of the Twentiethteam looked one at the other, and all at their captain, as if seekingexplanation of this extraordinary situation. 

"Well, " said Hughie, in a loud voice, to the master, and with a carelesslaugh, though at his heart he was desperate, "they are giving us alittle taste of our own medicine. "

The master dropped to buckle his skate, deliberately unwinding thestrap, while the umpire allowed time. 

"Give me a hand with this, Hughie, " he called, and Hughie skated up tohim. 

"Well, " said Craven, smiling up into Hughie's face, "that's a good, swift opening, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's terrible, " groaned Hughie. "They're going to lick us off theice. "

"Well, " replied the master, slowly, "I wouldn't be in a hurry to sayso. We have a hundred minutes and more to win in yet. Now, don't you seethat their captain is their great card. Suppose you let the ball go fora game or two, and stick to Dan. Trail him, never let him shake you. Therest of us will take care of the game. "

"All right, " said Hughie, "I'll stick to him, " and off he set for thecenter. 

As the loser, Hughie again held the drop. He faced Dan withdetermination to get that ball out to Fusie, and somehow he felt in hisbones that he should succeed in doing this. Without any preliminary hedropped, and knocked the ball toward Fusie. 

But this was evidently what Dan expected, for as soon as Hughie made themotion to drop he charged hard upon the waiting Fusie. Hughie, however, had his plan as well, for immediately upon the ball leaving his stick, he threw himself in Dan's way, checking him effectually, and allowingFusie, with Don and Scotchie following, to get away. 

The Front defense, however, was too strong, and the ball came shootingback toward the line of Reds, one of whom, making a short run, passedfar out to Dan on the right. But before the latter could get up speed, Hughie was upon him, and ignoring the ball, blocked and bothered andchecked him, till one of the Twentieth centers, rushing in, secured itfor his side. 

"Ha! well done, captain!" came Craven's voice across the ice, andHughie felt his nerve come back. If he could hold Dan, that deadly Frontcombination might be broken. 

Meantime Don had secured the ball from Craven, and was rushing up hisright wing. 

"Here you are, Hughie, " he cried, shooting across the Front goal. 

Hughie sprang to receive, but before he could shoot Dan was upon him, checking so hard that Hughie was sent sprawling to the ice, while Danshot away with the ball. 

But before he had gone very far Hughie was after him like a whirlwind, making straight for his own goal, so that by the time Dan had arrived atshooting distance, Hughie was again upon him, and while in the very actof steadying himself for his try at the goal, came crashing into himwith such fierceness of attack that Dan was flung aside, while JohnnieBig Duncan, capturing the ball, sent it across to the master. 

It was the master's first chance for the day. With amazing swiftnessand dexterity he threaded the outer edge of the ice, and with a suddenswerve across, avoided the throng that had gathered to oppose him, andthen with a careless ease, as if it were a matter of little importance, he dodged in between the heavy Front defense, shot his goal, and skatedback coolly to his place. 

The Twentieth's moment had come, and both upon the ice and upon thebanks the volume and fierceness of the cheering testified to theintensity of the feeling that had been so long pent up. 

That game had revealed to Hughie two important facts: the first, that hewas faster than Dan in a straight race; and the second, that it would beadvisable to feed the master, for it was clearly apparent that there wasnot his equal upon the ice in dodging. 

"That was well done, captain, " said Craven to Hughie, as he was coollyskating back to his position. 

"A splendid run, sir, " cried Hughie, in return. 

"Oh, the run was easy. It was your check there that did the trick. That's the game, " he continued, lowering his voice. "It's hard on you, though. Can you stand it?"

"Well, I can try for a while, " said Hughie, confidently. 

"If you can, " said the master, "we've got them, " and Hughie settled downinto the resolve that, cost what it might, he would stick like a leechto Dan. 

He imparted his plan to Fusie, adding, "Now, whenever you see me tackleDan, run in and get the ball. I'm not going to bother about it. "

Half an hour had gone. The score stood two to one in favor of the Front, but the result every one felt to be still uncertain. That last attack ofHughie's, and the master's speedy performance, gave some concern to themen of the Front, and awakened a feeling of confidence in the Twentiethteam. 

But Dan, wise general that he was, saw the danger, and gave his commandsere he faced off for the new game. 

"When that man Craven gets it, " he said to the men of the center, "makestraight for the goal. Never mind the ball. "

The wisdom of this order became at once evident, for when in theface-off he secured the ball, Hughie clung so tenaciously to his heelsand checked him so effectually, that he was forced to resign it to theReds, who piercing the Twentieth center, managed to scurry up the icewith the ball between them. But when, met by Craven and Johnnie BigDuncan, they passed across to Dan, Hughie again checked so fiercely thatJohnnie Big Duncan secured the ball, passed back to the master, who withanother meteoric flash along the edge of the field broke through theFront's defense, and again shot. 

It was only Farquhar Bheg's steady coolness that saved the goal. It wasa near enough thing, however, to strike a sudden chill to the heart ofthe Front goal-keeper, and to make Dan realize that something must bedone to check these dangerous rushes of Craven. 

"Get in behind the defense there, and stay there, " he said to two of hiscenters, and his tone indicated that his serene confidence in himselfand his team was slightly shaken. Hughie's close checking was beginningto chafe him, for his team in their practice had learned to dependunduly upon him. 

Noticing Dan's change in the disposition of his men, Hughie moved up twoof his centers nearer to the Front defense. 

"Get into their way, " he said "and give the master a clear field. "

But this policy only assisted Dan's plan of defense, for the presenceof so many players before the Front goal filled up the ice to such anextent that Craven's rushes were impeded by mere numbers. 

For some time Dan watched the result of his tactics well satisfied, remaining himself for the time in the background. During one of thepauses, when the ball was out of play, he called one of the little Redsto him. 

"Look here, " he said, "you watch this. Right after one of those rushesof Craven's, don't follow him down, but keep up to your position. I'llget the ball to you somehow, and then you'll have a chance to shoot. No use passing to me, for this little son of a gun is on my back like aflea on a dog. " Dan was seriously annoyed. 

The little Red passed the word around and patiently waited his chance. Once and again the plan failed, chiefly because Dan could not get theball out of the scrimmage, but at length, when Hughie had been temptedto rush in with the hope of putting in a shot, the ball slid out of thescrimmage, and Dan, swooping down upon it, passed swiftly to the waitingRed who immediately shot far out to his alert wing, and then rushingdown the center and slipping past Johnnie Big Duncan, who had gone forthto meet Dan coming down the right, and the master who was attending tothe little Red on the wing, received the ball, and putting in a short, swift shot, scored another goal for the Front, amid a tempest ofhurrahings from the team and their supporters. 

The game now stood three to one in favor of the Front, and up to the endof the first hour no change was made in this score. 

And now there was a scene of the wildest enthusiasm and confusion. TheFront people flocked upon the ice and carried off their team to theirquarter of the shanty, loading them with congratulations and refreshingthem with various drinks. 

"Better get your men together, captain, " suggested Craven, and Hughiegathered them into the Twentieth corner of the shanty. 

In spite of the adverse score Hughie found his team full of fight. Theycrowded about him and the master, eager to listen to any explanation ofthe present defeat that might be offered for their comfort, or to anyplans by which the defeat might be turned into victory. Someminutes they spent in excitedly discussing the various games, and ingood-naturedly chaffing Thomas Finch for his failure to prevent a score. But Thomas had nothing to say in reply. He had done his best, and he hada feeling that they all knew it. No man was held in higher esteem by theteam than the goal-keeper. 

"Any plan, captain?" asked the master, after they had talked for someminutes, and all grew quiet. 

"What do you think, sir?" said Hughie. 

"O, let us hear from you. You're the captain. "

"Well, " said Hughie, slowly, and with deliberate emphasis, "I think weare going to win. " (Yells from all sides. ) "At any rate we ought towin, for I think we have the better team. " (More yells. ) "What I mean isthis, I think we are better in combination play, and I don't think theyhave a man who can touch the master. "

Enthusiastic exclamations, "That's right!" "Better believe it!" "Horo!"

"But we have a big fight before us. And that Dan Munro's a terror. Theonly change I can think of is to open out more and fall back from theirgoal for a little while. And then, if I can hold Dan--"

Cries of "You'll hold him all right!" "You are the lad!"

"Everybody should feed the master. They can't stop him, any of them. But I would say for the first while, anyway, play defense. What do youthink, sir?" appealing to the master. 

"I call that good tactics. But don't depend too much upon me; if any manhas a chance for a run and a shot, let him take it. And don't give upyour combination in your forward line. The captain is quite right inseeking to draw them away from their goal. Their defense territory istoo full now. Now, what I have noticed is this, they mainly rely uponDan Munro and upon their three big defense men. For the first fifteenminutes they will make their hardest push. Let us take the captain'sadvice, fall back a little, and so empty their defense. But on thewhole, keep your positions, play to your men, and, " he added, with asmile, "don't get too mad. "

"I guess they will be making some plans, too, " said Thomas Finch, slowly, and everybody laughed. 

"That's quite right, Thomas, but we'll give them a chance for the firstwhile to show us what they mean to do. "

At this point the minister came in, looking rather gloomy. 

"Well, Mr. Craven, rather doubtful outlook, is it not?"

"O, not too bad, sir, " said the master, cheerfully. 

"Three to one. What worse do you want?"

"Well, six to one would be worse, " replied the master. "Besides, theirfirst two games were taken by a kind of fluke. We didn't knowtheir play. You will notice they have taken only one in the lastthree-quarters of an hour. "

"I doubt they are too big for you, " continued the minister. 

"Isn't altogether size that wins in shinny, " said Mr. Craven. "Hughiethere isn't a very big man, but he can hold any one of them. "

"Well, I hope you may be right, " said the minister. "I am sorry I haveto leave the game to see a sick man up Kenyon way. "

"Sorry you can't stay, sir, to see us win, " said Craven, cheerfully, while Hughie slipped out to see his mother before she went. 

"Well, my boy, " said his mother, "you are playing a splendid game, andyou are getting better as you go on. "

"Thanks, mother. That's the kind of talk we like, " said Hughie, whohad been a little depressed by his father's rather gloomy views. "I'mawfully sorry you can't stay. "

"And so am I, but we must go. But we shall be back in time for supper, and you will ask all the team to come down to celebrate their victory. "

"Good for you, mother! I'll tell them, and I bet they'll play. "

Meantime the team from the Front had been having something of ajollification in their quarters. They were sure of victory, and in spiteof their captain's remonstrances had already begun to pass round thebottle in the way of celebration. 

"They're having something strong in there, " said little Mac McGregor. "Wish they'd pass some this way. "

"Let them have it, " said Johnnie Big Duncan, whose whole family eversince the revival had taken a total abstinence pledge, although thiswas looked upon as a very extreme position indeed, by almost all thecommunity. But Big Duncan Campbell had learned by very bitter experiencethat for him, at least, there was no safety in a moderate use of "God'sgood creature, " as many of his fellow church-members designated the"mountain dew, " and his sons had loyally backed him up in this attitude. 

"Quite, right!" said the master, emphatically. "And if they had anysense they would know that with every drink they are throwing away a bigchance of winning. "

"Horo, you fellows!" shouted big Hec Ross across to them, "aren't yougoing to play any more? Have you got enough of it already?"

"We will not be caring for any more of yon kind, " said Johnnie BigDuncan, good-naturedly, "and we were thinking of giving you a change. "

"Come away and be at it, then, " said Hec, "for we're all getting cold. "

"That's easily cured, " said Dan, as they sallied forth to the ice again, "for I warrant you will not be suffering from the cold in five minutes. "

When the teams took up their positions, it was discovered that Dan hadfallen back to the center, and Hughie was at a loss to know how to meetthis new disposition of the enemy's force. 

"Let them go on, " said the master, with whom Hughie was holding ahurried consultation. "You stick to him, and we'll play defense tillthey develop their plan. "

The tactics of the Front became immediately apparent upon the drop ofthe ball, and proved to be what the master had foretold. No sooner hadthe game begun than the big defense men advanced with the centers to theattack, and when Hughie followed up his plan of sticking closely to DanMunro and hampering him, he found Jimmie Ben upon him, swiping furiouslywith his club at his shins, with evident intention of intimidatinghim, as well as of relieving Dan from his attentions. But if Jimmie Benthought by his noisy shouting and furious swiping to strike terror tothe heart of the Twentieth captain, he entirely misjudged his man; forwithout seeking to give him back what he received in kind, Hughie playedhis game with such skill and pluck, that although he was considerablybattered about the shins, he was nevertheless able to prevent Dan frommaking any of his dangerous rushes. 

Craven, meantime, if he noticed Hughie's hard case, was so fullyoccupied with the defense of the goal that he could give no thought toanything else. Shot after shot came in upon Thomas at close range, and so savage and reckless was the charge of the Front that their bigdefense men, Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben, abandoning their own positions, were foremost in the melee before the Twentieth goal. 

For fully fifteen minutes the ball was kept in the Twentieth territory, and only the steady coolness of Craven and Johnnie Big Duncan, backedby Hughie's persistent checking of the Front captain and the magnificentsteadiness of Thomas in goal, saved the game. 

At length, as the fury of the charge began to expend itself a little, Craven got his chance. The ball had been passed out to Dan upon the leftwing of the Front forward line. At once Hughie was upon him, but JimmieBen following hard, with a cruel swipe at Hughie's skates, laid himflat, but not until he had succeeded in hindering to some degree Dan'sescape with the ball. Before the Front captain could make use of hisadvantage and get clear away, the master bore down upon him like awhirlwind, hurled him clear off his feet, secured the ball, dashed upthe open field, and eluding the two centers, who had been instructed tocover the goal, easily shot between the balsam-trees. 

For a few moments the Twentieth men went mad, for they all felt that acrisis had been passed. The failure of the Front in what had evidentlybeen a preconcerted and very general attack was accepted as an omen ofvictory. 

The Front men, on the other hand, were bitterly chagrined. They had comeso near it, and yet had failed. Jimmie Ben was especially savage. Hecame down the ice toward the center, yelling defiance and threats ofvengeance. "Come on here! Don't waste time. Let us at them. We'll knockthem clear off the ice. "

It was Dan's drop. As he was preparing to face off, the master skated upand asked the umpire for time. At once the crowd gathered round. 

"What's the matter?" "What's up?" "What do you want?" came on all sidesfrom the Front team, now thoroughly aroused and thirsting for vengeance. 

"Mr. Umpire, " said the master, "I want to call your attention to a bitof foul play that must not be allowed to go on"; and then he describedJimmie Ben's furious attack upon Hughie. 

"It was a deliberate trip, as well as a savage swipe at a man's shinswhen the ball was not near. "

At once Jimmie Ben gave him the lie, and throwing down his club, slammedhis cap upon the ice and proceeded to execute a war-dance about it. 

For a few moments there was a great uproar, and then the master's voicewas heard again addressing the umpire. 

"I want to know your ruling upon this, Mr. Umpire"; and somehow hisvoice commanded a perfect stillness. 

"Well, " said the umpire, hesitating, "of course--if a man trips it isfoul play, but--I did not see any tripping. And of course--swiping ata man's shins is not allowed, although sometimes--it can't very well behelped in a scrimmage. "

"I merely want to call your attention to it, " said the master. "Myunderstanding of our arrangements, Mr. Munro, " he said, addressing theFront captain, "is that we are here to play shinny. You have come uphere, I believe, to win the game by playing shinny, and we are here toprevent you. If you have any other purpose, or if any of your men haveany other purpose, we would be glad to know it now, for we entered thisgame with the intention of playing straight, clean shinny. "

"That's right!" called out Hec Ross; "that's what we're here for. " Andhis answer was echoed on every side, except by Jimmie Ben, who continuedto bluster and offer fight. 

"O, shut your gab!" finally said Farquhar Bheg, impatiently. "If youwant to fight, wait till after the game is done. "

"Here's your cap, Jimmie, " piped a thin, little voice. "You'll take coldin your head. " It was little French Fusie, holding up Jimmie's cap onthe end of his shinny club, and smiling with the utmost good nature, butwith infinite impudence, into Jimmie's face. 

At once there was a general laugh at Jimmie Ben's expense, who with agrowl, seized his cap, and putting it on his head, skated off to hisplace. 

"Now, " said Hughie, calling his men together for a moment, "let us crowdthem hard, and let's give the master every chance we can. "

"No, " said the master, "they are waiting for me. Suppose you leave Danto me for a while. You go up and play your forward combination. They arenot paying so much attention to you. Make the attack from your wing. "

At the drop Dan secured the ball, and followed by Fusie, flew up thecenter with one of the Reds on either hand. Immediately the mastercrossed to meet him, checked him hard, and gave Fusie a chance, who, seizing the ball, passed far up to Hughie on the right. 

Immediately the Twentieth forward line rushed, and by a beautiful hitof combined play, brought the ball directly before the Front goal, whenDon, holding it for a moment till Hughie charged in upon Farquhar Bheg, shot, and scored. 

The result of their combination at once inspired the Twentieth team withfresh confidence, and proved most disconcerting to their opponents. 

"That's the game, boys, " said the master, delightedly. "Keep your heads, and play your positions. " And so well did the forward line respond thatfor the next ten minutes the game was reduced to a series of attacksupon the Front goal, and had it not been for the dashing play of theircaptain and the heavy checking of the Front defense, the result wouldhave been most disastrous to them. 

Meantime, the Twentieth supporters, lined along either edge, became moreand more vociferous as they began to see that their men were getting thegame well into their own hands. That steady, cool, systematic play ofman to man was something quite new to those accustomed to the old styleof game, and aroused the greatest enthusiasm. 

Gradually the Front were forced to fall back into their territory, andto play upon the defensive, while the master and Johnnie Big Duncan, moving up toward the center, kept their forward line so stronglysupported, and checked so effectually any attempts to break through, that thick and fast the shots fell upon the enemy's goal. 

There remained only fifteen minutes to play. The hard pace was beginningto tell upon the big men, and the inevitable reaction following theirunwise "celebrating" began to show itself in their stale and spiritlessplay. On the other hand, the Twentieth were as fresh as ever, andpressed the game with greater spirit every moment. 

"Play out toward the side, " urged Dan, despairing of victory, butdetermined to avert defeat, and at every opportunity the ball wasknocked out of play. But like wolves the Twentieth forwards were uponthe ball, striving to keep it in play, and steadily forcing it towardthe enemy's goal. 

Dan became desperate. He was wet with perspiration, and his breath wascoming in hard gasps. He looked at his team. The little Reds were fitenough, but the others were jaded and pumped out. Behind him stoodJimmie Ben, savage, wet, and weary. 

At one of the pauses, when the ball was out of play, Dan dropped on hisknee. 

"Hold on there a minute, " he cried; "I want to fix this skate of mine. "

Very deliberately he removed his strap, readjusted his skate, and beganslowly to set the strap in place again. 

"They want a rest, I guess. Better take off the time, umpire, " sang outFusie, dancing as lively as a cricket round Jimmie Ben, who looked as ifhe would like to devour him bodily. 

"Shut up, Fusie!" said Hughie. "We've got all the time we need. "

"You have, eh?" said Jimmie Ben, savagely. 

"Yes, " said Hughie, in sudden anger, for he had not forgotten JimmieBen's cruel swipe. "We don't need any more time than we've got, and wedon't need to play any dirty tricks, either. We're going to beat you. We've got you beaten now. "

"Blank your impudent face! Wait you! I'll show you!" said Jimmie Ben. 

"You can't scare me, Jimmie Ben, " said Hughie, white with rage. "Youtried your best and you couldn't do it. "

"Play the game, Hughie, " said the master, in a low tone, skating roundhim, while Hec Ross said, good-naturedly, "Shut up Jimmie Ben. You'llneed all your wind for your heels, " at which all but Jimmie Ben laughed. 

For a moment Dan drew his men together. 

"Our only chance, " he said, "is in a rush. Now, I want every man to makefor that goal. Never mind the ball. I'll get the ball there. And thenyou, Jimmie Ben, and a couple of you centers, make right back here onguard. "

"They're going to rush, " said Hughie to his team. "Don't all go back. Centers fall back with me. You forwards keep up. "

At the drop Dan secured the ball, and in a moment the Front rush came. With a simultaneous yell the whole ten men came roaring down the ice, waving their clubs and flinging aside their lightweight opponents. Itwas a dangerous moment, but with a cry of "All steady, boys!" Hughiethrew himself right into Dan's way. But just for such a chance JimmieBen was watching, and rushing upon Hughie, caught him fairly with hisshoulder and hurled him to the ice, while the attacking line swept overhim. 

For a single moment Hughie lay dazed, but before any one could offerhelp he rose slowly, and after a few deep breaths, set off for thescrimmage. 

There was a wild five minutes. Eighteen or twenty men were massed infront of the Twentieth goal, striking, shoving, yelling, the solidweight of the Front defense forcing the ball ever nearer the goal. Inthe center of the mass were Craven, Johnnie Big Duncan, and Don fightingevery inch. 

For a few moments Hughie hovered behind his goal, his heart full ofblack rage, waiting his chance. At length he saw an opening. Jimmie Ben, slashing heavily, regardless of injury to himself or any others, hadedged the ball toward the Twentieth left. Taking a short run, Hughie, reckless of consequences, launched himself head first into Jimmie Ben'sstomach, swiping viciously at the same time at the ball. For a momentJimmie Ben was flung back, and but for Johnnie Big Duncan would havefallen, but before he could regain his feet, the ball was set free ofthe scrimmage and away. Fusie, rushing in, had snapped it up and hadgone scuttling down the ice, followed by Hughie and the master. 

Before Fusie had got much past center, Dan, who had been playing in therear of the scrimmage, overtook him, and with a fierce body check upsetthe little Frenchman and secured the ball. Wheeling, he saw both Hughieand Craven bearing down swiftly upon him. 

"Rush for the goal!" he shouted to Jimmie Ben, who was following Hughiehard. Jimmie Ben hesitated. 

"Back to your defense!" yelled Dan, cutting across and trying to escapebetween Hughie and Craven. 

It was in vain. Both of the Twentieth men fell upon him, and the master, snatching the ball, sped like lightning down the ice. 

The crowd went wild. 

"Get back! Get back there!" screamed Hughie to the mob crowding in uponthe ice. "Give us room! Give us a show!"

At this moment Craven, cornered by Hec Ross and two of the Red Shirts, with Dan hard upon his heels, passed clear across the ice to Hughie. With a swift turn Hughie caught the ball, dodged Jimmie Ben's fiercespring at him, and shot. But even as he shot, Jimmie Ben, recovering hisbalance, reached him and struck a hard, swinging blow upon his ankle. There was a sharp crack, and Hughie fell to the ice. The ball went wide. 

"Time, there, umpire!" cried the master, falling on his knees besideHughie. "Are you hurt, Hughie?" he asked, eagerly. "What is it, my boy?"

"Oh, master, it's broken, but don't stop. Don't let them stop. We mustwin this game. We've only a few minutes. Take me back to goal and sendThomas out. "

The eager, hurried whisper, the intense appeal in the white face anddark eyes, made the master hesitate in his emphatic refusal. 

"You can't--"

"Oh, don't stop! Don't stop it for me, " cried Hughie, gripping themaster's arm. "Help me up and take me back. "

The master swore a fierce oath. 

"We'll do it, my boy. You're a trump. Here, Don, " he called aloud, "we'll let Hughie keep goal for a little, " and they ran Hughie back tothe goal on one skate. 

"You go out, Thomas, " gasped Hughie. "Don't talk. We've only fiveminutes. "

"They have broken his leg, " said the master, with a sob in his voice. 

"Nothing wrong, I hope, " said Dan, skating up. 

"No; play the game, " said the master, fiercely. His black eyes wereburning with a deep, red glow. 

"Is it hurting much?" asked Thomas, lingering about Hughie. 

"Oh, you just bet! But don't wait. Go on! Go on down! You've got to getthis game!"

Thomas glanced at the foot hanging limp, and then at the white butresolute face. Then saying with slow, savage emphasis, "The brute beast!As sure as death I'll do for him, " he skated off to join the forwardline. 

It was the Front knock-off from goal. There was no plan of attack, butthe Twentieth team, looking upon the faces of the master and Thomas, needed no words of command. 

The final round was shot, short, sharp, fierce. A long drive fromFarquhar Bheg sent the ball far up into the Twentieth territory. It wasa bad play, for it gave Craven and Thomas their chance. 

"Follow me close, Thomas, " cried the master, meeting the ball andsetting off like a whirlwind. 

Past the little Reds, through the centers, and into the defense linehe flashed, followed hard by Thomas. In vain Hec Ross tried to check, Craven was past him like the wind. There remained only Dan and JimmieBen. A few swift strides, and the master was almost within reach ofDan's club. With a touch of the ball to Thomas he charged into hiswaiting foe, flung him aside as he might a child, and swept on. 

"Take the man, Thomas, " he cried, and Thomas, gathering himself up intwo short, quick strikes, dashed hard upon Jimmie Ben, and hurled himcrashing to the ice. 

"Take that, you brute, you!" he said, and followed after Craven. 

Only Farquhar Bheg was left. 

"Take no chances, " cried Craven again. "Come on!" and both of themsweeping in upon the goal-keeper, lifted him clear through the goal andcarried the ball with them. 

"Time!" called the umpire. The great game was won. 

Then, before the crowd had realized what had happened, and before theycould pour in upon the ice, Craven skated back toward Jimmie Ben. 

"The game is over, " he said, in a low, fierce tone. "You cowardlyblackguard, you weren't afraid to hit a boy, now stand up to a man, ifyou dare. "

Jimmie Ben was no coward. Dropping his club he came eagerly forward, butno sooner had he got well ready than Craven struck him fair in the face, and before he could fall, caught him with a straight, swift blow on thechin, and lifting him clear off his skates, landed him back on his headand shoulders on the ice, where he lay with his toes quivering. 

"Serve him right, " said Hec Ross. 

There was no more of it. The Twentieth crowds went wild with joy andrage, for their great game was won, and the news of what had befallentheir captain had got round. 

"He took his city, though, Mrs. Murray, " said the master, after thegreat supper in the manse that evening, as Hughie lay upon the sofa, pale, suffering, but happy. "And not only one, but a whole continent ofthem, and, " he added, "the game as well. "

With sudden tears and a little break in her voice, the mother said, looking at her boy, "It was worth while taking the city, but I fear thegame cost too much. "

"Oh, pshaw, mother, " said Hughie, "it's only one bone, and I tell youthat final round was worth a leg. "

CHAPTER XV

THE RESULT

"How many did you say, Craven, of those Glengarry men of yours?"Professor Gray was catechizing his nephew. 

"Ten of them, sir, besides the minister's son, who is going to take thefull university course. "

"And all of them bound for the ministry?"

"So they say. And judging by the way they take life, and the way, forinstance, they play shinny, I have a notion they will see it through. "

"They come of a race that sees things through, " answered the professor. "And this is the result of this Zion Hill Academy I have been hearing somuch about?"

"Well, sir, they put in a good year's work, I must say. "

"You might have done worse, sir. Indeed, you deserve great credit, sir. "

"I? Not a bit. I simply showed them what to do and how to do it. Butthere's a woman up there that the world ought to know about. For love ofher--"

"Oh, the world!" snorted the professor. "The world, sir! The Lorddeliver us! It might do the world some good, I grant. "

"It is for love of her these men are in for the ministry. "

"You are wrong, sir. That is not their motive. "

"No, perhaps it is not. It would be unfair to say so, but yet she--"

"I know, sir. I know, sir. Bless my soul, sir. I know her. I knew herbefore you were born. But--yes, yes--" the professor spoke as if tohimself--"for love of her men would attempt great things. You havethese names, Craven? Ah! Alexander Stewart, Donald Cameron, ThomasFinch--Finch, let me see--ah, yes, Finch. His mother died after a longillness. Yes, I remember. A very sad case, a very sad case, indeed. "

"And yet not so sad, sir, " put in Craven. "At any rate, it did notseem so at the time. That night it seemed anything but sad. It waswonderful. "

The professor laid down his list and sat back in his chair. 

"Go on, sir, " he said, gazing curiously at Craven. "I have heard alittle about it. Let me see, it was the night of the great match, was itnot?"

"Did you know about that? Who told you about the match, sir?"

"I hear a great many things, and in curious ways. But go on, sir, goon. "

Craven sat silent, and from the look in his eyes his thoughts were faraway. 

"Well, sir, it's a thing I have never spoken about. It seems to me, if Imay say so, something quite too sacred to speak of lightly. "

Again Craven paused, while the professor waited. 

"It was Hughie sent me there. There was a jubilation supper atthe manse, you understand. Thomas Finch, the goal-keeper, youknow--magnificent fellow, too--was not at the supper. A messenger hadcome for him, saying that his mother had taken a bad turn. Hughie wasmuch disappointed, and they were all evidently anxious. I offered todrive over and inquire, and of course the minister's wife, though shehad been on the go all day long, must needs go with me. I can neverforget that night. I suppose you have noticed, sir, there are timeswhen one is more sensitive to impressions from one's surroundings thanothers. There are times with me, too, when I seem to have a very vitalkinship with nature. At any rate, during that drive nature seemed to getclose to me. The dark, still forest, the crisp air, the frost sparklingin the starlight on the trees--it all seemed to be part of me. I fear Iam not explaining myself. "

Craven paused again, and his eyes began to glow. The professor stillwaited. 

"When we reached the house we found them waiting for death. Theminister's wife went in, I waited in the kitchen. By and by Billy Jack, that's her eldest son, you know, came out. 'She is asking for you, ' hesaid, and I went in. I had often seen her before, and I rather thinkshe liked me. You see, I had been able to help Thomas along pretty well, both in school and with his night work, and she was grateful for what Ihad done, absurdly grateful when one considers how little it was. I hadseen death before, and it had always been ghastly, but there was nothingghastly in death that night. The whole scene is before me now, I supposealways will be. "

His dead, black eyes were beginning to show their deep, red fire. 

The professor looked at him for a moment or two, and then said, "Proceed, if you please, " and Craven drew a long breath, as if recallinghimself, and went on. 

"The old man was there at one side, with his gray head down on thebed, his little girl kneeling beside him with her arm round his neck, opposite him the minister's wife, her face calm and steady, Billy Jackstanding at the foot of the bed--he and little Jessac the only ones inthe room who were weeping--and there at the head, Thomas, supportinghis mother, now and then moistening her lips and giving her sips ofstimulant, and so quick and steady, gentle as a woman, and smilingthrough it all. I could hardly believe it was the same big fellow whothree hours before had carried the ball through the Front defense. Itell you, sir, it was wonderful. 

"There was no fuss or hysterical nonsense in that room. The mother laythere quite peaceful, pain all gone--and she had had enough of it inher day. She was quite a beautiful woman, too, in a way. Fine eyes, remarkable eyes, splendidly firm mouth, showing great nerve, I shouldsay. All her life, I understand, she lived for others, and even now herthought was not of herself. When I came in she opened her eyes. Theywere like stars, actually shining, and her smile was like the suddenbreaking of light through a cloud. She put out her hand for mine, andsaid--and I value these words, sir--'Mr. Craven, I give you a mither'sthanks and a mither's blessing for a' you have done for ma laddie. ' Shewas Lowland Scotch, you know. My voice went all to pieces. I tried tosay it was nothing, but stuck. Thomas helped me out, and without a shakeor quiver in his voice, he answered for me. 

"'Yes, indeed, mother, we'll not forget it. '

"'And perhaps you can help him a bit still. He will be needing it, ' sheadded. 

"I assure you, sir, that quiet steadiness of Thomas and herself bracedme up, and I was able to make my promise. And then she said, with a lookthat somehow reminded me of the deep, starlit night outside, throughwhich I had just come, 'And you, Mr. Craven, you will give your life toGod?'

"Again my voice failed me. It was so unexpected, and quite overwhelming. Once more Thomas answered for me. 

"'Yes, mother, he will, sure, ' and she seemed to take it as my promise, for she smiled again at me, and closed her eyes. 

"I had read of triumphant death-bed scenes, and all that before, withouttaking much stock in them, but believe me, sir, that room was full ofglory. The very faces of those people, it seemed to me, were alight. Itmay be imagination, but even now, as I think of it, it seems real. Therewere no farewells, no wailing, and at the very last, not even tears. Thomas, who had nursed her for more than a year, still supported her, the smile on his face to the end. And the end"--Craven's voice grewunsteady--"it is difficult to speak of. The minister's wife repeated thewords about the house with many mansions, and those about the valleyof the shadow, and said a little prayer, and then we all waited for theend--for myself, I confess with considerable fear and anxiety. I hadno need to fear. After a long silence she sat up straight, and in herScotch tongue, she said, with a kind of amazed joy in her tone, 'Mafayther! Ma fayther! I am here. ' Then she settled herself back in herson's arms, drew a deep breath, and was still. All through the nightand next day the glory lingered round me. I went about as in a strangeworld. I am afraid you will be thinking me foolish, sir. "

The stern old professor was openly wiping his eyes. He seemed quiteunable to find his voice. At length he took up the list again, and beganto read it mechanically. 

"What! What's this?" he said, suddenly, pointing to a name on the list. 

"That, sir, is John Craven. "

"Do you mean that you, too--"

"Yes, I mean it, if you think I am fit. "

"Fit, Jack, my boy! None of us are fit. But what--how did this come?"The professor blew his nose like a trumpet. 

"That I can hardly tell myself, " said Craven, with a kind of wonderin his voice; "but at any rate it is the result of my Glengarry SchoolDays. "