Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— 768 “Ti I was give my choice between fight- in’ you an’ lockin’ horns with Squire In- goldsby’s Durham Bull, I’d choose the bull,” said Joe Newsam. ‘“‘ Sufferin’ cats! What about yer rheumatiz?” ‘ Thar’s a time an’ place for everything,” replied Archie. ‘‘ Down to Lob’s P’int is the place for rheumatiz, moored alongside the kitchen stove. This here Gunflint Crick country calls for a loosenin’ up o’ j’ints an’ an uncommon robustious faith in God.” “Ye talk like a cussed preacher!” groaned Tim Leblanc. They set out for the big river next morn- ing, dragging Leblanc on an improvised sled. They dropped him at his own house, with an extra ten dollar bill and a little sermon from Archie McKim on the lament- able effects of a vile temper on soul and body. Their arrival at the big house of Lob’s Point is still talked about. Mrs. Kester cried on the shoulder of every member of the party, and Sally Goodine swooned with excitement, and Silas Kester was too deeply moved to say a word. The neighbors made such a din with guns end horns that Squire Ingoldsby heard it through the walls of his fine house of Over- island and ran the whole distance in his slippers and without his hat. CHAPTER XVI. THE BAG OF BOOKS. HE household at Lob’s Point settled back into the old, peaceful routine. It was increased by one; for old Gabe Loon, invited to make his home under that wide roof, could not think of a pleasanter or more comfortable way of putting in the future. Jacob was none the worse for his ad- venture with Pete Woodhall. He had been lonely, but not often afraid, and he had fought for his friend, and so thoroughly did he believe the man with the scarred face to be a liar that he never gave another thought to the queer things he had been told by those sneering lips. One day, in April, Mrs. Kester walked ee eS ee ee ee ee ne ae a ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. through the big shrubbery in the side gar- den in search of the green blades of daffo- dils. She found a few blades, and then she discovered a bag of sodden black leather.. Even as she lifted the bag and found it heavy her memory flew back to the summer afternoon when the man with the scarred face was seen by little Jacob in Silas’s room and afterward, by herself, on all fours in the edge of the shrubbery. The bag was locked. She picked it up and carried it to Silas’s room. Silas was not there. She found a knife and slit the strong leather and pulled out the old books one by one. When Silas Kester entered his room fif- teen minutes later, Albina was still seated at his big desk with the old books open before her and the empty black bag on the floor beside her feet. He realized the full significance of the scene at a glance, but he was puzzled, having believed all these months that Woodhall had carried off the bag of books. ‘Where did you get it?” hesitatingly. “T found it in the shrubbery,” she an- swered. “TI think it is what I saw that man looking for, on his hands and knees. But J don’t understand. Was he bringing these books to you?” ‘““He took the books from that drawer, bag and all,” replied the man, stepping closer and laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘““T found them in the cabin we rescued the boy from—went down among the islands in June the same year, looking for it, and found it—and found those books. I thought it better not to tell any one, even you, of what I found. I burned the cabin. For myself, I didn’t care who the boy’s father was.” ‘““ Neither do I care,” said Albina. “ He is our son. I could not love him more, and he could not love us more than he does. He came to us when needed him. I some- times think that he was guided safely to he asked, us—by the children—down the flooded river,” “Yes,” said Silas. There was a fire of old gnarled maple elbows burning hotly on the wide hearth. Silas poked it to a brisker flame, then took 8A EOmMmIcboOo S (S@) AL . se eT ar ~ ne eS ee ee es rn te Pee I ed pe ee,