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THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 H. A. CODY 
 
THE UNKNOWN 
 WRESTLER 
 
 BY 
 
 H. A. CODY 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 UNDER SEALED ORDERS, 
 THE FRONTIERSMAN, Etc. 
 
 vt «• i*j Y O R IC 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1918, 
 By George H. Doran Company 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
To All 
 
 True Wrestlers 
 
 this book is 
 
 Sympathetically Dedicated 
 
 912837 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPDiR PAGI3 
 
 I Street Music 11 
 
 II "Where Flows the Tide 19 
 
 III Conscience Monet ** . . 28 
 
 IV Secret Plans 37 
 
 V Put to the Test 46 
 
 VI Down by the River 55 
 
 VII Mending Things 64 
 
 VIII Home for Repairs 74 
 
 IX Evening Glow 83 
 
 X Prdde and Impudence 96 
 
 XI The Face at the Door 107 
 
 XII Astray on the Hills 115 
 
 XIII Notice to Quit 125 
 
 XIV Settling Things 133 
 
 XV A Wet Day 143 
 
 XVI Twin Fires 153 
 
 XVII Cruel as the Grave 163 
 
 XVIII Silent Strife 175 
 
 XIX Warmer than He Expected 183 
 
 XX Confidence 191 
 
 XXI Outdone 202 
 
 XXII Compelled to Serve 214 
 
 XXIII Dispelling the Clouds 225 
 
 7 
 
8 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIV Empty Hears Something 233 
 
 XXV Perverting Justice 243 
 
 XXVI On the Rocks 254 
 
 XXVII The Will of the People 265 
 
 XXVIII Knuckling Under 276 
 
 XXIX The Challenge . 287 
 
 XXX By the Old Pine Tree 299 
 
THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
THE 
 UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 STREET MUSIC 
 
 THERE was no room for him on the sidewalk, so he 
 took up his position beyond the curbstone. The 
 light from the large arc-lamp overhead exposed the old 
 man's thin white hair, withered face and threadbare 
 clothes. His sightless eyes were turned toward the 
 passing throng, and his head was slightly bent in an 
 expectant attitude. But the hand that drew the wheezy 
 bow across the strings of the violin often faltered, and 
 the broken music, instead of attracting, repelled the 
 crowds. The player was tired and longed for rest. But 
 the fire of an overmastering purpose burned in his soul 
 and kept him steadfast to his post. 
 ""* The girl standing by his side was both weary and 
 embarrassed. Her hand trembled as she held out her 
 father's soft felt hat to receive the coins which were so 
 very few. It was quite evident that she was new to 
 this business, for her cheeks were flushed crimson owing 
 to the remarks she occasionally heard. 
 
 " Listen to that old man sawing wood," one gaily- 
 dressed young fop laughingly jested to his companion. 
 
 11 
 
12 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Filing 7 iis saw, J .should say," was the sarcastic 
 reply. ' ' It 's a wonder to me that such a noise is allowed 
 on a " 
 
 "But see the girl," the other insisted; "isn't she 
 a beauty! Look at her cheeks. My! they are some 
 colour. She seems new to her job. Suppose we give 
 her a jolt. I'd like to hear what she'd say. Perhaps 
 she isn't as innocent as she seems." 
 
 They had stopped several rods away and were watch- 
 ing the girl as they talked. Presently they retraced 
 their steps, and when they came near where she was 
 standing, one of them surged suddenly against her, 
 causing her to drop the hat in alarm and start back, 
 while the few coins rolled out upon the hard stones. 
 Her cry of dismay caused the old man to stop playing 
 and turn quickly toward her. 
 
 "What is the matter, Nan?" he anxiously enquired. 
 
 "Oh, let us go away," the girl pleaded. "We are 
 not safe here, and I am so frightened. Two men pushed 
 against me and knocked the hat out of my hand. I 
 know they did it on purpose, for they went away laugh- 
 ing. Oh, what is that?" and she leaned eagerly for- 
 ward as a commotion took place among the crowd a 
 short distance away. 
 
 While the young men were performing their cow- 
 ardly prank, a man was intently watching all that was 
 taking place. He had been observing the blind violin- 
 ist and the timid girl for several minutes. In his eyes 
 was an expression of sympathy, which changed at once 
 to intense anger at the act of the two heartless fops. 
 He stepped quickly forward and confronted them. 
 
 "What right had you to interfere with that girl?" 
 he demanded. 
 
STREET MUSIC 13 
 
 "It's none of your business," replied the one who 
 had done the deed. "You get out of our way, and do 
 it quick at that, or it won't be well with you." 
 
 At once a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and 
 the gripping fingers of that hand caused him to wince 
 and try to tear himself away. A sudden fear smote 
 his heart as he looked up into the blazing eyes of the 
 man before him. He was beginning to respect that 
 towering form with the great broad shoulders and 
 the hand that seemed to weigh a ton and the gripping 
 fingers that were closing like a vise. He suspected that 
 this was a plain-clothes man in the Police service, and 
 the thought filled him with a nameless dread. He 
 glanced around for his companion, but he was nowhere 
 to be seen. 
 
 "What do ye want me to do?" he at length gasped. 
 
 "Go pick up those coins, and then apologise to the 
 girl for your rudeness," was the reply. 
 
 "Good heavens! I can't do that, ye know. What 
 will me chums say?" 
 
 "Never mind what they will say. They'll say a great 
 more if I have to drag you there by the coat collar. 
 So get a move on at once." 
 
 The victim looked helplessly around upon the crowd 
 which had gathered, as if expecting some assistance. 
 But not a friendly face could he behold. All seemed to 
 be greatly amused at his plight. 
 
 "Hurry up." 
 
 The voice was calm but the clutching fingers were be- 
 coming almost unbearable. There was nothing else for 
 the young man to do, so with a face as pale as death 
 he turned and walked slowly back to where the old vio- 
 linist and the girl were standing. 
 
U THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Now, pick up the coins, " was the imperious com- 
 mand. 
 
 The culprit at once obeyed, and groped around as 
 well as he could but nothing could he find. Several 
 street urchins, who had been ahead of him, now stood 
 near and jeered at his fruitless efforts. At length, 
 straightening himself up, he turned to his captor. The 
 perspiration was streaming down his face, and he looked 
 the picture of misery. 
 
 "I can't find anything," he gasped. 
 
 "Well, then, apologise to the girl. Tell her you are 
 sorry for what you did and that you will never do such 
 a thing again." 
 
 With trembling lips the young man stammered forth 
 a few broken words as he stood facing the surprised and 
 abashed girl. It was hard to understand what he said, 
 but that did not really matter. His punishment had 
 been severe, and his captor felt somewhat satisfied. 
 
 "Now, clear out," he ordered, "and be thankful all 
 the rest of your days that you have escaped so easily. ' ' 
 
 Scarcely had he finished speaking ere a large police 
 officer forced his way through the crowd. He grasped 
 the situation in an instant, and when he saw the man 
 standing near the culprit, a light of recognition came 
 into his eyes. 
 
 "Shall I take him, sir?" he asked, at the same time 
 giving the salute. 
 
 "No, Sergeant, I think we had better let him go this 
 time," was the reply. "He has been taught a lesson 
 already which he is not likely to forget." 
 
 When the crowd saw that there was to be no more 
 excitement, it quickly dispersed, and the stream of hu- 
 manity surged along the street as before. The police- 
 
STREET MUSIC 15 
 
 man, too, moved away, leaving the girl and her pro- 
 tector standing near each other. 
 
 "You have had a hard time to-night/' the man re- 
 marked. "I am so sorry those rascals gave you such 
 trouble/ ' 
 
 1 ' Oh, it was so kind of you to come to our assistance, ' ' 
 the girl replied. "My father is very tired, and the lit- 
 tle money we made is all gone." 
 
 "May I have your violin for a while, sir?" the 
 stranger asked turning to the violinist, at the same 
 time taking the instrument gently from the trembling 
 hands. "You must be very tired." 
 
 During the whole of the scene the old man had been 
 trying to comprehend the meaning of the commotion. 
 His daughter was too greatly excited to explain any- 
 thing. But when he heard the stranger speak to him 
 he at once complied with his request and allowed him 
 to take his beloved instrument. The girl slipped her 
 hand in his and squeezed it hard, and then stood watch- 
 ing her kind protector. 
 
 The latter lifted the violin quickly to his shoulder, 
 faced the crowded street, and drew the bow across the 
 strings. There was a great difference now in the play- 
 ing, and many people paused to listen. There was some- 
 thing which appealed to them in the music which was 
 pouring forth. It stirred their nobler feelings and 
 aroused in them the spirit of sympathy for the poor and 
 unfortunate. They comprehended the purpose of the 
 musician when they saw the feeble old man and 
 the girl standing nearby. The hearts of many were 
 strangely stirred, and they vied with one another in 
 dropping money into the dusty hat which the girl was 
 again holding forth. Silver mingled with bills, and the 
 
16 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 girl's face grew bright and her heart happy the heavier 
 the hat became. It seemed to her like a wonderful 
 dream, and that the player was a fairy who had come 
 to her assistance. She wanted to watch him and listen 
 to the music he was making, but she had little time for 
 that, as she had to pay attention to the money she was 
 collecting. 
 
 Suddenly the music stopped and when the girl turned 
 her head she saw the stranger handing the violin to her 
 father. She wanted to speak to him, to thank him for 
 his kindness, but before she could act he had disap- 
 peared among the crowd. 
 
 As the music ceased, so did the giving, and the un- 
 heeding crowd once more surged on its way. But the 
 girl did not care, as she had all the money she could 
 manage. 
 
 "Let us go now, father,' 7 she said. "We have done 
 well to-night, and I am so anxious to know how much 
 we have." 
 
 ' ' Yes, Nan, let us be off at once, ' ' the old man wearily 
 replied. "I am greatly confused and do not fully un- 
 derstand all that has taken place. You must thank the 
 stranger for his kindness, though. His music was won- 
 derful." 
 
 "But he has gone, father. He vanished among the 
 crowd, and I am afraid that I shall never see him again. 
 Oh, he was splendid ! How I wish you could have seen 
 him. ,, 
 
 "But I heard him speak, Nan, and listened to his 
 playing, so that was something." 
 
 They were standing close to each other, talking as 
 simply as if they were completely alone. In her great 
 innocence, Nan did not realise that greedy eyes were 
 
STREET MUSIC 17 
 
 watching the bulging hat she was still holding before 
 her, and that itching hands were but waiting an op- 
 portunity to snatch away the treasure. 
 
 They had turned to leave the place, when a police- 
 man suddenly appeared before them. 
 
 1 ' I have been instructed to accompany you home, • ' he 
 briefly informed them. 
 
 Into the girl's eyes came a look of fear which the 
 policeman was not slow to notice. 
 
 "Don't be afraid, Miss," he remarked. "It is for 
 your welfare that I am here. It is not safe for you to 
 go alone through the streets with all that money. There 
 are people watching you already to snatch it away from 
 you." 
 
 "Are there?" and the girl looked fearfully around. 
 "I don't see them." 
 
 1 ' No, I know you don 't. But they are watching you, 
 nevertheless, so let us go at once." 
 
 "Who sent you here to help us?" the girl enquired, 
 as they moved along by the side of the policeman. "Was 
 it that kind man who played so nicely?" 
 
 "I received orders to come," was the reply. "That 
 is all I can tell you. But I think you had better let me 
 carry that money," he added, "perhaps it will be safer 
 with me." 
 
 The girl was only too glad to comply with his request, 
 for she was beginning to get quite nervous as they moved 
 along through the crowds. She imagined now that many 
 people were following them in order to steal their treas- 
 ure. 
 
 It was quite a distance they had to travel, and very 
 glad was the old man when at length they stopped be- 
 fore the door of a house on a narrow street. 
 
18 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "You live here?" the policeman asked, as he handed 
 the hat with the money to the girl. 
 
 ' ' Oh, no, ' ' was the reply. ' ' We are only staying here 
 for the night. We live in the country. This is a board- 
 ing place, and we have been here before. We are very 
 grateful to you for your kindness, sir, and we shall never 
 forget you." 
 
 "It's all in the night's work," the policeman replied. 
 "But be careful of that money. Keep a good watch 
 over it." 
 
 "Indeed I shall," and the girl hugged it close to her 
 breast. "It means so much to us." 
 
 The policeman moved away, and then stopped and 
 watched the house for a few minutes after the old man 
 and the girl had entered the building. 
 
 "Good Lord! what innocents," he muttered to him- 
 self. "They wouldn't have got half a block with that 
 money if I hadn't been along. I wonder how they'll 
 make out getting away. Live in the country, the girl 
 said. They should stay there, then. The city's cer- 
 tainly no place for such as them." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE 
 
 AFTER Douglas Stanton had handed back the vio- 
 lin to the blind musician, he stood a little dis- 
 tance off and watched to see what would happen. He 
 felt quite interested in the old man and the girl, and 
 longed to know something about them. Why were they 
 thus appealing to the crowds for money? The man 
 did not seem like the ordinal street musician, as there 
 was something dignified and refined in his manner. The 
 girl was unusually timid. He could not forget the big 
 blue eyes which had turned to him in gratitude for his 
 assistance, and he had noticed how clean and neat was 
 her simple dress. 
 
 "Queer couple that, sir; mere babies." 
 
 The man turned suddenly and saw the police ser- 
 geant standing by his side. 
 
 "Do you know who they are?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 "Xo; never saw them before. But they're such 
 kids that I feel sorry for them, and so ordered Haw- 
 kins to see that they got safe home." 
 
 ' ' It was good of you, Sergeant, to do that. But, say, 
 I didn't know you were on this beat. When did you 
 leave the water-front?" 
 
 "Last night, sir. Flemming's down there now. You 
 know him, I think; he was with me for a while last 
 spring when things were lively there." 
 
 19 
 
20 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Yes, I remember quite well. He helped us in that 
 Fenston row." 
 
 "He's the one, and a good man, too. But I did like 
 that beat, as I was on it so long. It is too tame up here, 
 and you know I 'm fond of a bit of excitement now and 
 then/' 
 
 "You got it down there all right, didn't you, es- 
 pecially when the docks were full?" 
 
 ' ' You bet, ' ' and the sergeant smacked his lips as past 
 scenes came to his mind. "But it's quiet at the docks 
 now. I haven't seen you there for the last few days, 
 sir." 
 
 "I know you haven't, and you won't see me there 
 again for some time. I'm going down to-night to have 
 one more look at the old place." 
 
 "Why, not going away!" the sergeant exclaimed in 
 surprise. 
 
 "That's about it." 
 
 "My, my! What in the world shall we do without 
 you! There'll be no one to take an interest in things 
 down there now." 
 
 "Oh, there'll be plenty, I guess." 
 
 "You're the first one who ever did, and I'm damned 
 sure those high-brows won't follow your lead. Not a 
 bit of it! They're too much taken up with their pink 
 teas, and such things, and wouldn't think of soiling 
 their nice hands with dock trash." 
 
 The sergeant was on his favourite subject now, and 
 his temper was rising. Douglas had heard his opinions 
 before, and was not anxious to listen to them again. 
 
 ' ' I must be off now, Sergeant. I shall always remem- 
 ber your kindness." 
 
WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE 21 
 
 "But you'll be sure to give us a call, sir? The mis- 
 sus vrill feel all cut up if you don't.'' 
 
 "Yes, I'll be around as soon as I can. So, good- 
 night." 
 
 The worthy sergeant stood and watched him as he 
 moved away. 
 
 "Too bad," he muttered. "We can't afford to lose 
 the likes of him. Wonder where in the world he's going. 
 I've always said we couldn't keep him forever, and I 
 guess I was right. It must be a mighty big thing that 
 would take him away from the docks. He should be 
 a chief of police instead of being nothing but a go- 
 cart." 
 
 • While the sergeant was thus musing, Douglas moved 
 as rapidly as possible along the crowded streets. He 
 wished to get away from the commotion of the throngs 
 that he might consider the thoughts that were upper- 
 most in his mind. Keeping steadily on, he at length 
 reached the street running along the front of the har- 
 bour. It was a narrow street, dimly lighted, with huge 
 warehouses on both sides. There was little traffic now, 
 as this was a winter port, and the big ocean liners did 
 not come here during the summer months. It was not 
 a desirable locality, especially at night, and most people 
 shunned the place. The few Douglas met were either 
 hurrying to get away as soon as possible or slinking 
 slowly along, preferring this gloomy abode to the 
 brightly-lighted parts of the city. 
 
 The street at length became wider where the* docks ran 
 out into the harbour. At several of these small steam- 
 ers were lying, and a number of sailing craft. Here 
 men were busy loading and unloading the vessels. Doug- 
 lid not stop to watch them, as at other times, but 
 
22 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 kept steadily on until he reached the last dock which 
 was entirely deserted. One electric light shed its beams 
 out over the water, which was kept burning as a guide 
 to incoming boats. Down this dock he walked, and 
 when he came close to the water he stood for a while and 
 looked out over the harbour. It was an inspiring sight 
 to see the lights gleaming on the opposite shore, and 
 from the passing tugs and other vessels. 
 
 Here a large warehouse ran along one side of the 
 dock almost to the water's edge. Just around the near- 
 est corner was a steamer's broken shaft, and noticing 
 this, Douglas sat down upon it to rest. It was almost 
 high tide, and the water lapped lazily against the dock. 
 There was a restful quietness here, and Douglas en- 
 joyed the respite from the busy crowds. Below the dock 
 several small tugs were moored, and the sound of voices 
 came to him occasionally from that direction. He 
 thought of the last time he had visited this place, and 
 how the dock then was the scene of such bustling com- 
 motion, for a big ocean liner was all ready to leave. She 
 had gone and had left not a visible trace behind. So 
 it would be with him, he mused. Soon he himself would 
 be away, and the life of the city would go on the same 
 and none would remember him. His thoughts drifted 
 to the principal ones who were responsible for his going, 
 and his face hardened, while his hands clenched. He 
 knew what they would say when they heard of it. There 
 would be a slight lifting of the eyebrows, no more than 
 good breeding would allow. It would be mentioned at 
 afternoon teas, and at card-tables. He could imagine 
 what some of them would say. "Poor fellow, his head 
 was somewhat turned with that dock work. He will 
 learn wisdom as he gets older." Yes, such remarks 
 
WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE 23 
 
 as these would be made, and then he would be entirely- 
 forgotten. 
 
 He remained musing in this fashion for some time, 
 lost to the world around him. He was going away — - 
 he knew not whither, defeated for a while but not beaten. 
 He had the future before him, and he would make good. 
 If he could not do it here, he would in some other place. 
 
 The sound of voices at last aroused him. It came 
 from his left, and he peered around the corner of the 
 warehouse. For a few seconds he could see no one, but 
 he knew there were people not far off who were talking 
 in a most earnest manner. Presently, out of the dark- 
 ness stepped a man and a woman, and passed directly 
 under the electric lamp. He saw their faces distinctly, 
 especially the woman 's, which was strained and haggard, 
 as she listened to her companion. As they came nearer 
 and stood close to the edge of the dock, it was possible 
 for Douglas to overhear parts of the conversation. He 
 could not see their faces now, though he could observe 
 their forms, and he knew that the woman was standing 
 near the water, and it was quite evident that she was 
 weeping. 
 
 "But you promised me, Ben; you really did," she 
 ing. 
 
 "I know I did, Jean, but we must wait a while," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "But we cannot wait," the woman urged. "You know 
 how serious it is if we delay much longer. All will 
 know, and I shall be disgraced." 
 
 "Tut, tut," and the man stamped angrily upon the 
 floor of the dock. "Don't talk so foolishly. A few 
 weeks won't make any difference." 
 
 "How long do you think?" the woman asked. 
 
24 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Oh, five or six, I should imagine." 
 
 "No, I tell you that will be too late. It must not be 
 longer than two. Promise me that it will not be more 
 than that." 
 
 "Well, I promise," the man slowly assented. 
 
 "Swear to it, then," the woman demanded. "Place 
 your left hand upon your heart, and hold your right 
 hand up to heaven, and swear by Him who is watching 
 and listening that you will be true to your word." 
 
 A coarse, brutal laugh came from the man's lips. 
 
 "Won't you believe me?" he demanded. 
 
 "Not unless you swear." 
 
 "Well, I won't, so that's the end of it." 
 
 At these words the woman gave a low moan, and what 
 she said Douglas could not hear. Whatever it was it 
 made the man angry and he again stamped his foot. 
 
 "What do I care?" he growled. "You can go to the 
 snivelling old idiot and tell him all you want to." 
 
 "Oh, Ben!" and the woman laid a hand upon his 
 arm, "how can you say such things?" 
 
 With a curse he flung her hand away, and then in a 
 twinkling he gave her a push, and before she could re- 
 cover herself she had gone backwards over the edge of 
 the dock. With a frightened cry she disappeared, and 
 the man, instead of trying to rescue her, leaped aside 
 and vanished into the darkness. 
 
 All this happened so quickly that Douglas hardly real- 
 ised what had taken place before it was all over. His 
 first impulse was to spring after the man who had com- 
 mitted the cowardly deed. But the thought of the 
 woman down there in the water deterred him and caused 
 him to hasten at once to her assistance. Anxiously he 
 peered over the edge, and at length saw a hand thrust 
 
WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE 25 
 
 above the surface. It took him but au instant to tear 
 off his coat and hurl himself into the water below. A 
 few powerful strokes brought him close to the woman, 
 and he was enabled to reach out and clutch her with 
 a firm grip ere she again disappeared. Fortunate it 
 was for him that he was a strong swimmer, and he was 
 thus able to hold the woman's head above water while 
 he slowly worked his way toward the lower side of the 
 dock, where he hoped to find a landing place. He had 
 not proceeded far, however, ere a rowboat shot sud- 
 denly out from the shore, and a deep voice hailed him. 
 
 * ' Hold on a minute ! ' ' was the order. Soon the boat 
 was near, and both Douglas and the woman were hauled 
 aboard. 
 
 "What have ye got there? A woman?" the boatman 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes," was the brief response. 
 
 "Thought so," the rescuer laconically remarked. 
 "Screamed when she went over, didn't she?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 * ' I thought so. They all do that. It was her I heard 
 all right." 
 
 "What, is such a case as this common?" Douglas 
 asked in surprise. 
 
 ''Well, I couldn't say it is common, but forty odd 
 years in and around this harbour afford one some queer 
 sights. But here we are." 
 
 The boatman swung his craft around and drew it up 
 by the side of a tugboat which was lying at its wharf. 
 It did not take long to lift the woman from the row- 
 boat up to the deck above. 
 
 "Have you a light?" Douglas enquired. "I want to 
 see whether this woman is dead or alive." 
 
26 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Oh, she's alive all right," was the reply. "Ye can't 
 knock the likes of her out with a little dip like that. 
 But I'll get the light, if ye want it." 
 
 It did not take the old man long to bring a lantern, 
 and when the light fell upon the woman's face she 
 moved her head and gave a slight moan. 
 
 "She's all right," the boatman remarked. "The 
 best thing to do is to phone fer the ambulance. The 
 hospital's the place fer her. She'll have a decent place 
 fer the night, anyway, and they'll fix her up there. 
 There's a phone in the drug-store just around the cor- 
 ner. ' ' 
 
 Douglas realised that this was the best course to pur- 
 sue and, wet though he was, he sprang ashore and hur- 
 ried up the street. It took him only a few minutes to 
 reach the drug-store, where he sent in a hurry call for 
 the ambulance. He paid no attention to the curious 
 looks cast upon his drenched figure by several people 
 who were standing near. In fact, he had forgotten how 
 wet he was, so interested was he in obtaining aid for 
 the unfortunate woman as speedily as possible. 
 
 Upon his return to the tug, he found the old man 
 keeping guard. 
 
 "How is she now?" he asked. 
 
 "Ye can see fer yourself," and the boatman swung 
 around his lantern as he spoke. 
 
 Douglas now had more time to observe the face of 
 the woman before him. Her head, resting on an old 
 coat, turned slightly to one side, was partly covered by 
 a wealth of jet-black hair, forming a striking contrast 
 to the face which was so very white. It was a face 
 of considerable beauty, though lines of care were plainly 
 visible. She seemed but a girl lying there, and as Doug- 
 
WHERE FLOWS THE TIDE 27 
 
 las looked at her an intense anger smote his soul, and 
 he longed to lay his hands upon the wretch who had 
 tried to destroy her. 
 
 "Why are such brutes allowed their freedom ?" he 
 asked turning toward the boatman. 
 
 "Hey, what is that you say?" was the reply. 
 
 "I wonder why human brutes are permitted to have 
 their freedom, and injure a woman such as that?" 
 
 "You saw the deed, then?" 
 
 "Yes, I happened to be on the dock over there, when 
 she was pushed into the water by her companion. He 
 disappeared before I could get my hands on him." 
 
 "Oh, that is always the way. The women are the 
 ones who suffer while the men get scot-free. But, say, 
 here is the car now." 
 
 It did not take long to transfer the woman from the 
 tug to the ambulance, and when the car had departed, 
 Douglas turned to the boatman. 
 
 "I wish to thank you for what you have done to- 
 night, sir. But for your timely assistance I fear I should 
 have had a hard time getting ashore." 
 
 "Oh, never mind your thanks," was the reply. "I'm 
 mighty glad that I was nearby to give a hand. It does 
 one good sometimes to help a poor creature in distress. 
 But you had better hustle and change your wet clothes 
 or the ambulance will have to come f er you next. ' ' 
 
 "You're right, I do feel chilly, so good-night." 
 
 "Good-night," was the reply, "and when ye want 
 any help with that scoundrel, just call upon Cap' 
 Dodges, of the 'Nancy Staines.' " 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 CONSCIENCE MONEY 
 
 THE rector of St. Margaret's was visibly annoved 
 as lie hung up the telephone receiver. "Con- 
 found that fellow," he muttered, "where can he be? I 
 have phoned to him six times and can get no answer. 
 I shall not call him again. I'm really glad he's going 
 for he gets on my nerves with all his odd notions." 
 Turning to his desk, he continued his work upon his 
 sermon for next Sunday morning. 
 
 It was a large, comfortable study, and the walls were 
 well lined with books. Dr. Rannage was noted far and 
 wide as a deep student, as well as a great preacher. 
 The people of St. Margaret's were proud of their rector's 
 ability, and listened, so they often told him, with delight 
 to his intellectual sermons. He was particularly at home 
 when dealing with the Major and Minor Prophets or 
 on the Textual Criticism of the Bible. Regular Pas- 
 toral Visitation he disliked, and left most of such work 
 to his curate, though occasionally he called upon the 
 most influential members of his flock. He was a special 
 favourite in social circles, and being a brilliant after- 
 dinner speaker he was much in demand to grace numer- 
 ous festive gatherings. Little wonder, then, that Dr. 
 Rannage had no time for anything else but the prepara- 
 tion of his Sunday sermons, of which work he was very 
 fond. 
 
 28 
 
CONSCIENCE MONEY 29 
 
 To-night, however, he could not concentrate his 
 thoughts upon his subject. His mind would wander, and 
 several times he found himself thinking of the dinner 
 he had that evening with his Bishop. He knew that the 
 position of Archdeacon was vacant, and he was fondly 
 hoping that he would be favoured with the appointment. 
 It would be another step, so he mused, up the ecclesias- 
 tical ladder leading to the Episcopate. 
 
 He had forgotten all about his sermon and was think- 
 ing deeply of the prospects of his advancement, when 
 his curate, Douglas Stanton, entered the room unan- 
 nounced. 
 
 ''You are over half an hour late, Stanton," Dr. Ran- 
 nage ehided, as he motioned his visitor to a chair. 
 "What is the meaning of this?" 
 
 "I am very sorry," Douglas replied, as he took the 
 proffered chair. ' ' I intended to be here on time, but was 
 unavoidably detained. ' ' 
 
 "I dined with the Bishop to-night," and Dr. Rannage 
 toyed with a small paper-weight as he spoke, "and was 
 forced to leave in the midst of a most important dis- 
 cussion in order to keep my appointment with you." 
 
 "What were you discussing?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 "We were considering the best methods of dealing 
 with the submerged population of our city ; that is, those 
 unfortunate beings who inhabit the slums and the water- 
 front." 
 
 "Did you arrive at any definite conclusion?" 
 
 "We had not time; for, as I have just mentioned, I 
 was forced to come away to meet you." 
 
 "And while you were discussing methods of helping 
 the unfortunate, I was rescuing one from the water 
 down at Long Wharf." 
 
30 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Douglas spoke slowly, and he watched to see the ef- 
 fect of his words. But Dr. Rannage did not seem to 
 notice the implied sarcasm, nor the sharp contrast be- 
 tween theory and practice. 
 
 "So that is what you were doing, eh?" the latter 
 questioned. "You seem to enjoy being down there.' ' 
 
 "I enjoy helping the unfortunate, and because I am 
 not allowed to continue the work, I have sent in my 
 resignation. ' ' 
 
 ' ' But you must remember that you have a duty to the 
 parish as a whole, and not to one portion of it only." 
 
 "Haven't I tried to do my duty? I have visited in 
 season and out of season, and worked like a dog for the 
 two years I have been with you." 
 
 "But I have received complaints that you are unso- 
 ciable, and that you refuse all invitations to, ah, friendly 
 gatherings and such like affairs." 
 
 "You mean card-parties and afternoon teas, I sup- 
 pose, ' ' Douglas sharply replied. ' ' If so, I plead guilty. 
 Haven't I taken a keen interest in the Boy Scouts, the 
 Young Men's Club, the Sunday School, and dear knows 
 what ? Any spare time I had I spent at the water-front 
 in an effort to follow my Master's example of putting 
 my religion into practice. How dare I waste my time 
 sipping tea at this house and that, and talking nice lit- 
 tle nothings to the butterflies who gather there, when 
 there is so much to be done, and precious souls to be 
 helped and saved?" 
 
 "But the butterflies, of whom you speak so contemp- 
 tuously, need to be helped as well." 
 
 "No one knows that better than I do," Douglas bit- 
 terly assented. "But until they are willing to throw 
 aside their vain pretensions of being the salt of the 
 
CONSCIENCE MONEY 31 
 
 earth and better than others, I am afraid little can be 
 done. They dislike me because I speak my mind too 
 freely, and refuse to waste my time at their senseless 
 gatherings. They desire some one who will flatter their 
 vanity and condone their idleness." 
 
 "You are making serious charges, young man," Dr. 
 Rannage severely replied. His curate's words had hit 
 him hard, and he winced, for he knew how true they 
 were. "If that is the feeling you entertain for inno- 
 cent amusements, it is just as well you should sever your 
 connection with this parish. "When do you expect to 
 leave?" 
 
 "At once." 
 
 "And where do you intend to go?" 
 
 "I have not the slightest idea. The future to me is 
 a complete blank. Something will turn up, I suppose. 
 If not, I have two hands and a strong body." 
 
 "Look here, Stanton," and Dr. Rannage swung sud- 
 denly around on his swivel chair, "you must not get 
 downhearted." 
 
 "I am not," was the reply. 
 
 "Well, perhaps you are not, but I do not like the idea 
 of your going from me with nothing in view. Do you 
 know the parish of Rixton?" 
 
 "Yes, I have heard of it, though I know very little 
 about it." 
 
 "It seems that it has been vacant for some time, and 
 it is most difficult to get any one to go there. By the 
 way, I met Mr. Simon Stubbles at dinner to-night. He 
 is the leading man at Rixton, and the Bishop and I were 
 much impressed with him. He is very wealthy, so I 
 understand ; has a large sawmill, and carries on exten- 
 sive lumbering operations. He is greatly concerned 
 
32 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 about the spiritual welfare of Rixton, and is most anx- 
 ious that a suitable clergyman should be sent there. 
 He is quite willing to contribute liberally if the right 
 man is found.' ' 
 
 "Why did the last one leave?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "He was not big enough for the work, so I learned 
 from the brief conversation I had with Mr. Stubbles. 
 It is a most difficult parish, composed principally of 
 millmen, woodsmen, and a few farmers. It seems that 
 the last clergyman used no tact at all in dealing with 
 them, and thus antagonised everybody, Mr. Stubbles in- 
 cluded.' ' 
 
 1 ' So you think that I would suit, do you ? ' ' and Doug- 
 las looked quizzically at Dr. Rannage. 
 
 "I believe you are just the man for the place." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "Because you know the ways of such people. You 
 were born in the country, were you not?" 
 
 "Why not let young Harmon have a try there? He 
 is one of your boys, and has just been ordained. Would 
 it not be well for him to win his spurs in a parish such 
 as Rixton?" 
 
 "Oh, but he is a banker's son, you know, and we 
 could not think of sending him there." 
 
 "So I supposed," was the bitter reply, "though I 
 never for a moment imagined that you would so can- 
 didly acknowledge it." 
 
 "Acknowledge what?" Dr. Rannage queried. 
 
 1 ' That because Harmon is a banker 's son he would not 
 be sent to an out-of-the-way country parish. His father 
 is influential and can influence those in authority, so 
 he is booked for an important charge in Silverton, so I 
 
CONSCIENCE MONEY 33 
 
 understand. I am merely the son of a poor, honest 
 iarmer, and so any old place will do for me." 
 
 1 ' See here, young man, you have no right to talk that 
 way, ' ' Dr. Rannage retorted. ' l If you continue, I shall 
 be compelled to report you to the Bishop." 
 
 " Report all you like, but you both know it's true, 
 and you cannot deny it. Harmon barely scraped through 
 college, but he is considered a gentleman's son, and 
 understands the ways of polite society. Mark my words, 
 his career will be followed with great interest, and 
 everything he does will be noted and favourably com- 
 mented upon. It will not be long before he will be an 
 Archdeacon, or a Dean, and finally a Bishop." 
 
 "Are you jealous of Harmon?" Dr. Rannage asked. 
 "That is the only conclusion I can draw from your 
 sarcastic remarks." 
 
 "Jealousy has nothing to do with it," was the quick 
 reply. "It is merely justice that I demand, a right for 
 every man to be judged according to what he is and 
 does, irrespective of what his father is, or any influence 
 he may exert. The Church is the last place where such 
 injustice should be allowed. But, there, what is the 
 use of my talking to you or any one else, when you 
 attribute my feeling to jealousy?" 
 
 Douglas had risen, and stood with his hat in his hand 
 Teady to depart. 
 
 "So you don't feel inclined to try Rixton, then?" 
 
 Dr. Rannage asked. He was quite amused at his curate 's 
 
 Is, and considered them merely the outburst of a 
 
 hot-headed youth. Douglas noted this, and with a great 
 
 effort controlled himself. 
 
 "I shall consider the matter very carefully," was his 
 reply. "If I decide to go, I shall report to the Bishop." 
 
34 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Wait a minute," Dr. Rannage ordered as Douglas 
 was about to leave the room. "There is something I 
 almost overlooked. You received your cheque for last 
 month, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, the treasurer gave it to me several days ago." 
 
 "There was a meeting of the vestry last night, and I 
 mentioned that you had sent in your resignation," Dr. 
 Rannage explained. 
 
 "And I suppose all the members were delighted with 
 the news." 
 
 "Why should they? They are all business men, and 
 look well after the temporalities of St. Margaret's. They 
 paid tribute to your earnest work, and as a token of 
 appreciation they asked me to give you this," and Dr. 
 Rannage handed the young man a cheque. "I think 
 this will prove to you better than many words how 
 generous the members of the vestry really are." 
 
 Douglas took the cheque in his hand and studied it 
 very carefully. In fact, he looked at it so long with- 
 out saying anything that Dr. Rannage was surprised. 
 
 1 ' Are you not satisfied with it ? " he curtly asked, not- 
 ing the flush which was slowly stealing over Douglas' 
 face. ' ' I took it upon myself to ask something for you, 
 thinking that it would give you considerable pleasure. ' > 
 
 "I am not considering the amount of the cheque," 
 Douglas replied, "but something far more important. 
 St. Margaret's is a rich church, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," was the reluctant assent. 
 
 "The richest in the city?" 
 
 "Yes. But what has that to do with that cheque?" 
 Dr. Rannage angrily retorted. 
 
 "It is heavily endowed, and there was a big surplus 
 
CONSCIENCE MONEY 35 
 
 last Easter, according to the Year Book," Douglas con- 
 tinued, unheeding his rector's annoyance. 
 
 "We have good business men on the vestry/ ' Dr. 
 Eannage proudly explained, "and that is the main rea- 
 son why we are in such excellent financial condition. 
 They have been most careful to invest all moneys where 
 they bring in 'big returns/ ' 
 
 "What did they give me this for, then?" Douglas 
 asked as he held forth the cheque. "It must have 
 wrung their souls to part with one hundred dollars for 
 nothing." 
 
 "Oh, that was given merely out of appreciation for 
 your good work in the parish." 
 
 "Since when have they become appreciative?" 
 
 "Why, haven't they been always so?" 
 
 "If they were, they never showed any signs of it. It 
 seemed to me just the opposite, especially when I asked 
 them for a few hundred dollars last fall to rent a build- 
 ing as a shelter for the unfortunate on the water-front. 
 They told me pretty plainly what they thought of my 
 'new-fangled notion,' as they called it." 
 
 "They were merely cautious, that was all," Dr. Ran- 
 nage defended. "As I told you, they are all good busi- 
 ness men, and they wished to be sure that the invest- 
 ment would, ah " 
 
 "Pay," Douglas assisted, as his rector hesitated. 
 "Yes, that was just it. They thought it wouldn't pay 
 in dollars and cents, so they refused to have anything 
 to do with it. The return in lives helped and souls 
 saved did not trouble them in the least. But now, when 
 they know that I am going, perhaps they may have had 
 a twinge of conscience; that is, if they have any, and 
 
36 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 what they have given me is nothing more than con- 
 science money. " 
 
 These words brought Dr. Rannage suddenly to his 
 feet. He had always prided himself upon his self-con- 
 trol, but such a charge made by any man, especially a 
 mere curate, was more than he could endure. 
 
 "What do you mean by talking that way?" he de- 
 manded. "Ever since you entered this room you have 
 been as ugly as " 
 
 ' ' The devil, ' ' Douglas assisted as Dr. Rannage paused. 
 "You might as well say it as think it. If telling the 
 truth, and telling it plainly is being ugly, then I plead 
 guilty. I question if what I have said will be of any 
 benefit to you, but it has done a great deal of good to 
 me. It has somewhat relieved my mind, and that is 
 worth something." 
 
 ! ' You will relieve my mind, if you will go, ' ' Dr. Ran- 
 nage retorted. "It is.absolutely ridiculous that I should 
 be talked to in this manner, especially after what I have 
 done for you." 
 
 "Oh, you mean this?" and Douglas glanced at the 
 cheque. ' ' Well, then, I wish to show you and the mem- 
 bers of the vestry how I value such, ahem, appreciation. 
 Look!" 
 
 Holding the cheque up with both hands, he delib- 
 erately tore it into bits, and then, crossing the room, he 
 threw the pieces into the fireplace. 
 
 ' ' There, I feel better now, ' ' he quietly remarked. * ' So, 
 good -night. ' ' 
 
 Before Dr. Rannage could recover from his astonish- 
 ment, the study door opened and closed, and Douglas 
 Stanton was gone. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SECRET PLANS 
 
 HELLO! what's the rush?" 
 Douglas Stanton stopped short, and a smile 
 overspread his face as he turned it upon the beaming 
 countenance of the man standing before him. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, Garton, is it? I didn't see you." 
 
 "You certainly didn't. Why, you were cutting a two- 
 forty clip." 
 
 "I'm late for tea," Douglas explained. 
 
 "So am I," Garton returned. "Just before I left 
 the office, I was called down to the drill-shed to make a 
 presentation to one of our men who is about to get mar- 
 ried. Kit will be furious with me for staying so long. 
 AVomen don't like to be kept waiting, you know. Kit 
 doesn't, anyway. She says the kids will make it hot 
 for me when I get home." 
 
 "You're a lucky brute, Garton, to have a home to 
 go to, and a wife and such kids as yours." 
 
 "I certainly am. But, say, Stanton, come and have 
 dinner with us." 
 
 "How can I? Your wife won't be expecting me, and 
 I shall be intruding." 
 
 "Look here, old man," and Garton laid his hand af- 
 fectionately upon his companion's shoulder, "don't you 
 know that you are always welcome at our house? Kit 
 
 37 
 
33 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 will be delighted to see you, and the kids will go about 
 crazy. They will be more than surprised, for we were 
 afraid that we had seen the last of you." 
 
 "Well, I'll go, then," Douglas assented, and the two 
 started off at a rapid pace. 
 
 1 ' So you have decided to leave ? ' ' Garton asked, after 
 they had gone a short distance. 
 
 "You've heard the news, then?" Douglas queried. 
 
 "Sure; though I doubted it at first." 
 
 "Yes, I'm going. I've just had a talk with the 
 Bishop, and that was what kept me late." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "Oh, he doesn't mind. I'm too small a fish for him 
 to worry about. He was so busy all the afternoon that 
 I was kept waiting until the eleventh hour, and accord- 
 ingly was favoured with only a few minutes." 
 
 Garton detected the" note of bitterness in his com- 
 panion's voice, and did not question him any further 
 just then. When at length within the house, and taken 
 possession of by the Garton "kids" — two boys and a 
 girl — Douglas became entirely changed. There was a 
 lively romp first of all, and it was with difficulty that 
 Mrs. Garton could induce the children to release their 
 victim long enough to come to dinner. Then, at the 
 table there was a contest as to who should sit next to the 
 guest. 
 
 It was a happy family into which Douglas had en- 
 tered. This was the one home in the whole city where 
 he could feel perfectly at his ease, for he knew that he 
 was sincerely welcome. Ever since his coming to St. 
 Margaret's, Charles Garton had been his firm friend. 
 Notwithstanding his big legal practice, this brilliant law- 
 yer was always ready and willing to assist the young 
 
SECRET PLANS 30 
 
 curate, and Douglas found it a great comfort to go to 
 him for advice. 
 
 "I am afraid that I am a great intruder to-night,"" 
 he told Mrs. Garton. "But you must blame your hus- 
 band this time." 
 
 "I shall absolve him from all his past sins for bring- 
 ing you," was the smiling reply. "We were afraid 
 that you were going to leave the city without coming 
 to bid us good-bye." 
 
 1 ' I hope I am not so ungrateful as that, after all your 
 kindness to me." 
 
 "We shall miss you very much, Mr. Stanton. I 
 hardly know how the children will get along without 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, I shall drop in on you one of these days when 
 you're least expecting me." 
 
 "Are you going far away?" 
 
 "Merely to Rixton." 
 
 1 ' Rixton ! ' ' Mr. Garton exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, why not? Some one must go there." 
 
 "Do you know anything about the place?" 
 
 "Very little. I have been told that it is a hard par- 
 ish, and that the last rector was forced to leave." 
 
 1 ' I should say it is. Why, they Ve killed several men 
 there already, and do you want to be added to the 
 number?" 
 
 "Killed them! did you say?" Douglas asked in sur- 
 prise. "I never heard it was as bad as that." 
 
 "Oh, well, they didn't actually kill them, but they 
 tried to do so, it appears, and you know what the Bible 
 says about having murder in the heart." 
 
 Douglas mnde ro reply to these words but went on 
 with his dinner. It was only when he and Mr. Garton 
 
40 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 r 
 
 were comfortably ensconced in big chairs in the library, 
 enjoying a quiet smoke, that Douglas referred to the 
 subject which had been abruptly dropped. 
 
 ''Do you know much about Rixton?" he asked. 
 \ i ' Quite a bit, from hearsay. It 's a queer community, 
 so I understand, and the Church has had a mighty hard 
 struggle there/ ' 
 
 ''What's wrong with it, anyway?" 
 
 "I can't exactly say. But no clergyman has been able 
 to hold his own there for years. It may have been their 
 fault, and perhaps if the right man goes to the parish, 
 things might be all right. I wish to goodness you were 
 going anywhere else than to Rixton. I wonder what 
 the Bishop is thinking about to send you to that place. ' ' 
 
 ''Merely because he thinks that I know the ways of 
 such people, as I was brought up in the country." 
 
 "We want you here in the city, though," and Gar- 
 ton savagely blew a great cloud of smoke across the 
 room. 
 
 "But Dr. Rannage and the majority of the people of 
 St. Margaret's don't want me. They are delighted to 
 think that I am going." 
 
 "Yes, so I understand, confound their skins! They 
 want some little snipper-snapper who can dance attend- 
 ance upon all the pink-teas that are held, and shine in 
 social circles." 
 
 j "I could not suit them," Douglas slowly explained, 
 '"because the spirit of adventure runs in my veins. I 
 would like to be a prospector or an explorer, and launch 
 out into the unknown. As soon as I entered the Min- 
 istry, I looked around tor some untouched field in which 
 to enter. The complex life along the water-front ap- 
 pealed to me more than the conventional work in St. 
 
SECRET PLANS 41 
 
 Margaret's. There are great opportunities there, es- 
 pecially during the winter season. But, alas! my plans 
 have been overturned, and I must give it all up. I have 
 often thought of the mission field, and when an opening 
 occurs I hope to go. At present the parish of Rixton 
 is without a clergyman, and most likely it will remain 
 so for some time unless I go. It is a very difficult par- 
 ish, so I understand, and it accordingly appeals to me. 
 I am quite curious to know just what is the trouble, 
 and in what way it is different from other country dis- 
 tricts. Have you any idea?" 
 
 "It is somewhat of a puzzle to me/' Garton replied. 
 "It really should be an ideal parish, for nearly all of 
 the people belong to our Church. Mr. Stubbles himself 
 is a member, and senior warden, so I believe." 
 
 "You know him, then?" 
 
 "Yes, in a way. 1 have had some business dealings 
 with him, and incidentally I have talked with him about 
 Church affairs at Rixton. He has always seemed greatly 
 interested." 
 
 "And he laid the blame, I suppose, upon the clergy- 
 men?" 
 
 1 ' Invariably. He said they did not understand coun- 
 try people, and could not adapt themselves to their ways, 
 but held severely aloof." 
 
 "There must be some other cause," Douglas mused, 
 "and I must find out what it is." 
 
 "When do you expect to go?" Garton enquired. 
 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 1 ' What ! so soon ? Why not take a holiday ? You cer- 
 tainly need it, if any one does." 
 
 "I have asked for two months. I told the Bishop this 
 
42 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 afternoon that only on that understanding would I take 
 charge of Rixton." 
 
 "But you have just told me that you are going there 
 to-morrow!" Garton exclaimed. 
 
 Douglas laughed. 
 * ' Look here, old man, I have a plan, and I want to tell 
 it to you, if you will promise that you will not speak 
 of it to any one except your wife. I know she will keep 
 the secret." 
 
 "And I guess I can, too," Garton assented. "I keep 
 a good many for my clients, and one more will not over- 
 burden me." 
 
 "lam going to spend my vacation in Rixton, ' ' Doug- 
 las explained. "What do you think of that?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" Garton asked in surprise. 
 
 "Simply that I am going there as an ordinary farm- 
 hand and work for my living for two months." 
 
 "Good heavens!" Garton was so astonished at this 
 revelation that he knocked the ashes from his cigar over 
 his clothes. "Are you going crazy, Stanton? What 
 will the Bishop and the people of Rixton think of such 
 a thing?" 
 
 "They are not to know anything about it until it is 
 all over. You and Mrs. Garton will be the only ones 
 who will be aware of this freak of mine, so if I get 
 killed, you might give me a decent burial." 
 
 "Suppose in case of your death it should be consid- 
 ered wilful suicide, what then?" Garton asked, while 
 an amused twinkle shone in his eyes. "We won't be 
 able to get any one to read the Burial Service over you. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I don't believe it will be as bad as that. The 
 people won't know that I am a clergyman, and they will 
 not think it worth while to bother a farm-hand. I shall 
 
SECRET PLANS 43 
 
 be just plain John Handyman to them, and nothing 
 more. ' ' 
 
 "What put such a notion into your head, anyhow?" 
 Garton enquired. 
 
 "I wish to learn what is wrong with the parish of 
 Rixton," was the reply. "I want to get down to bed- 
 rock, so to speak, and find out just what is the trouble." 
 
 * ' But how will your going as a farm-hand help you ? ' ' 
 
 "I shall have a better chance to see things in their 
 true light. If I go as a clergyman, people will naturally 
 be somewhat suspicious of me, and will say things be- 
 hind my back which they will not say to my face. But 
 John Handyman will be of little account in their esti- 
 mation, and they will express their views in his pres- 
 ence freely and openly." 
 
 "Does it not seem like taking a mean advantage of 
 them?" Garton queried. 
 
 "I can't see it that way. I wish to diagnose that 
 parish and find out what is the trouble. There is a 
 serious disease of some kind there, and unless I know 
 what it is before taking charge I may make all kinds 
 of mistakes, and thus render the work much more diffi- 
 cult. If, in this way, I can accomplish my object and 
 do good to the people of Rixton, I cannot see how I 
 shall be taking a mean advantage of them. If the fault 
 has been with the clergymen who have been there, I 
 want to know it ; but if the people are to blame, I want 
 to know that as well." 
 
 "I see you believe in understanding the people among 
 whom you work," Garton remarked. 
 
 "Certainly. It seems to me that too many of our 
 clergy do not understand their parishioners, especially 
 so in country districts. It was not always so, but 
 
44 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 changes have taken place in recent years. How well I 
 remember my old rector, the one whose life I so revere, 
 and principally through whose influence my mind was 
 first turned toward the Ministry. He was a saint, if 
 ever there was one, and he looked well after his flock. 
 He knew his people intimately, not merely officially, but 
 in a sympathetic and loving way. He knew them all 
 by name, even to the smallest child. Their concerns were 
 his, and he entered into their joys and sorrows as one 
 of them, and not as a mere outsider. Why, it was won- 
 derful how much he knew about farming, stock-raising, 
 and such like. He could talk as intelligently to the 
 men about their farms as he could to the women about 
 their children. He was one of them ; he loved them and 
 they knew it." 
 
 Douglas' eyes shone as he thus bore testimony to the 
 worth of his old rector, and when he suddenly ceased 
 he sat gazing straight before him as if he beheld a vision. 
 
 "Is he living yet?" Garton asked. 
 
 "No, he died years ago, when I was about seventeen." 
 
 "He must have been a remarkable man." 
 
 "He certainly was, and his was the model parish in 
 the whole diocese." 
 
 "Is it the same now?" 
 
 An angry light suddenly leaped into Douglas' eyes, as 
 he turned them upon his companion's face. 
 
 "No, it is not the same," he slowly replied. "The 
 parish has gone to pieces, and the changes which have 
 taken place there make my heart ache." 
 
 "Why, what has been the cause?" Garton enquired. 
 
 "It is due to the men who were sent there after the 
 death of my old rector. The first man who went had 
 no patience with the people in their loyalty to his pred- 
 
SECRET PLANS 45 
 
 ecessor, and he could not bear to hear them tell of the 
 work which had been done in the past. He became 
 jealous, said sharp things, and turned the people against 
 him. The next man took no interest in the things which 
 concern an agricultural people. He openly said that he 
 hated farming, and that he was only staying in the 
 parish until he could get a better one. He moved on 
 after he had driven a number of members from the 
 Church. The third was not satisfied with the services, 
 so he introduced many things which were distasteful 
 to the people, especially the older members. He is there 
 yet, but there is a sad division in the parish, and he has 
 only a very small following. Those three men could not 
 understand the people among whom they worked. I 
 do not want to make the same mistake at Rixton, and 
 so I am going to spy out the land." 
 
 "Oh, you'll make out all right," Garton replied, as 
 he laid the butt of his cigar carefully on the ash-tray. 
 1 ■ You 11 have no trouble. Get on the good side of Stub- 
 bles, and he'll see you through. You can't afford to 
 lose the support of such a man as that, who has so great 
 an influence in Rixton. Anyway, if you need help, bank 
 on me. I am always at your service. I'll bring my 
 whole battalion to your assistance. Just send for Col. 
 Garton of the 65th, and he'll be there with his men in 
 no time. But, say, there's Kit at the piano; let's go 
 and have one more good sing together, and forget all 
 about disagreeable Church matters for the present. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 PUT TO THE TEST 
 
 THERE was a special reason why Douglas Stanton 
 walked slowly along the road leading from the 
 railway station through the parish of Rixton. It was a 
 warm, beautiful evening, and the magnificent scenery 
 so appealed to him that he had not the heart to hurry. 
 How good it was to be away from the noise and dust 
 of the city ! Here he could breathe the pure, fresh air, 
 listen to the music of the birds, and rest his eyes upon 
 meadows, flowers and trees. He felt at home, and the 
 spirit of childhood days possessed him. He longed to 
 wade in every brook he saw, and roll in the grass by 
 the side of the road. 
 
 He had walked about five miles and was somewhat 
 tired, as he was carrying a large bag over his shoulder, 
 and his precious violin case under his arm. He was no 
 longer dressed in his clerical garb, but was plain John 
 Handyman in rough work-a-day clothes. He enquired 
 the way from several people he met, and these had looked 
 with curiosity upon the bag and box he was carrying. 
 
 "Huntin' for work, eh?" the last man he had ac- 
 costed asked. "Well, Jake Jukes wants a man in the 
 worst way. Heard him say so last night. He lives about 
 half a mile further on. Ye can't mistake the place, for 
 it's just across the road from the rectory." 
 
 46 
 
PUT TO THE TEST 47 
 
 "How will I know the rectory when I come to it?" 
 Douglas enquired. 
 
 "Oh, ye can't mistake it very well. It is a big house 
 with shutters on the windows, and tall grass all around. 
 It 's been closed up for about a year now. ' ' 
 
 This was just the information Douglas needed, and 
 thanking the man, he moved on his way. Presently, the 
 road dipped into a wooded valley, and part way down 
 the hill, Douglas espied a large barrel overflowing with 
 clear, sparkling water. Stopping, he opened his bag 
 and drew forth a small tin cup. This he filled with 
 water, and then withdrew a short distance among the 
 trees and sat down upon the mossy ground. Mrs. Gar- 
 ton had thoughtfully provided him with a generous 
 lunch, and this he now opened and spread out before 
 him. He was hungry, so the sandwiches and cold meat 
 seemed the best he had ever tasted. There was a piece 
 of pie, as well as cake, for dessert, and what more could 
 a king desire? he asked himself. How delightful it was 
 to lie there and rest in such a quiet place. He was 
 free to come and go as he wished, and not shackled by 
 any rules of conventional life. The whole country was 
 his to wander at will. Why should he not do it? He 
 had only himself to care for, and his strong arms could 
 provide the simple necessities of daily life. Why spend 
 his time in the service of others, when his efforts were 
 either misunderstood or not appreciated ? He was tired 
 of being dictated to, and told what to do. He was just 
 as able to look after his own affairs as the Bishop and 
 Dr. Rannage. They did not care a snap for him, neither 
 did the Church, for that matter. He was but a fly on 
 one of the wheels of the great ecclesiastical machine, and 
 counted for nothing. 
 
48 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Such thoughts appealed to Douglas more than ever 
 before, and he meditated upon them as he once more 
 continued on his way. He had been trained to look 
 with suspicion upon people who held such views, but 
 now he realised how attractive they were, and worthy of 
 more careful consideration. Life, after all, was not 
 summed up in the books he had studied, nor in the 
 knowledge he had acquired while at college. No, there 
 was the great pulsing world all around him, and why 
 should he go through it fettered in soul, mind and body 1 
 
 Thinking thus, he came to the rectory. The gate lead- 
 ing into the yard was closed. This he pushed open, en- 
 tered, and walked around the house. Signs of neglect 
 and decay were most apparent. The building had not 
 been painted for years, and the shingles on the roof 
 were in a bad condition. Grass and weeds ran riot right 
 up to the very windows. He tried both the front and 
 back doors but they were fastened. 
 
 Amidst this scene of desolation, Douglas stood and 
 looked out over the land connected with the rectory. 
 There were several acres, sloping gently to the river 
 about two hundred yards away. Trees lined the shore, 
 and his attention was especially attracted to one large 
 elm which towered gracefully above its fellows. Only 
 a small part of the land surrounding the rectory had 
 been cultivated. The rest, which had been used for pas- 
 turage, was covered with small bushes. Several apple 
 trees stood back of the house, but these had not been 
 trimmed for years, and the bark and moss were thick 
 upon their trunks. "My, how I would like to get to 
 work upon this place," Douglas thought, as he moved 
 over toward the small orchard. ' ' They seem to be good 
 trees, and when once well scraped and their tops thinned 
 
PUT TO THE TEST 4£ 
 
 out, they should bear well. Why, a man with some 
 knowledge of farming could make a comfortable living 
 in a few years on such a place as this." 
 
 Near the orchard was a barn, with the two big doors 
 off their hinges, having been injured evidently by the 
 wind. There was nothing in the barn except a pile of 
 old hay lying upon the floor. "That looks good to me," 
 Douglas mused. "I shall have a soft bed to-night, any- 
 way. It is getting dark, and I might as well stay here 
 as anywhere. I wonder what the people of this parish 
 would say if they knew that their future clergyman is 
 occupying the rectory barn. He might have a worse 
 place, though, and perhaps he may before he is through. " 
 
 Douglas was tired and slept soundly. The night was 
 warm, and his coat was all the covering he needed. It 
 seemed to him that he had been sleeping but a short 
 time when he was awakened by a strange and yet fa- 
 miliar noise. Opening his eyes, he could not for a mo- 
 ment imagine where he was. Before him, and just out- 
 side the door, a herd of cattle was trooping past. They 
 were much startled to see a man lying in the barn, and 
 several of them had given vent to coarse bellows as 
 they stood staring in upon him. Presently he heard a 
 man's voice shouting to the cattle to "git along out of 
 that. What's the matter with ye, anyway?" Then a 
 stick was hurled at them, which caused them to scamper 
 away. Soon the man appeared, and when he saw what 
 had caused the commotion among the cattle, he, too, 
 stood and stared in amazement for a few seconds. Then 
 he took several steps forward, and held up the stout 
 he was carrying in his hand. 
 . what are ye doin' there?" he demanded. 
 
50 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Haven't you eyes to see for yourself?" Douglas 
 asked in reply. 
 
 ' ' But don 't ye know that this is private property ? ' ' 
 
 "That's just the reason I'm here. It's so very pri- 
 vate that it suits me fine." 
 
 "You have no business sleepin' in this barn." 
 
 "I'm not sleeping. I am as wide awake as you are. 
 Do you own this place?" 
 
 "No, but I have charge of it. It's Church property, 
 and as I live jist across the road I have been asked to 
 keep an eye over it an' put all intruders off." 
 
 Douglas liked the appearance of this fellow, notwith- 
 standing his pugnacious manner. He had an honest 
 face, and bright blue eyes, in whose depths lurked a 
 merry twinkle. He took it for granted that this was 
 Jake Jukes who wanted a farm hand. 
 
 "Come and put me off, then," Douglas quietly re- 
 marked, as he rose slowly to his feet. "I am anxious 
 for a little excitement. It will give me an appetite for 
 my breakfast." 
 
 "Where are you goin' to git it?" the farmer asked. 
 
 "At your place." 
 
 "At my place!" 
 
 "Certainly. You are Jake Jukes, are you not? You 
 want a man to help with your haying, and I am going to 
 stay." 
 
 "Great punkins! How d'ye know who I am?" and 
 Jake looked his astonishment. 
 
 "Oh, never mind that. Do you want me? That is 
 more important." 
 
 "Well, I do need help very bad, but I must know 
 what wages ye want before I hire ye. I can't make an 
 offer until I find out what ye kin do." 
 
PUT TO THE TEST 51 
 
 "I'll work a week with you for board and lodging. 
 That will give you time to try me out, and then you 
 will know what I am worth. I'll bet almost anything, 
 though, that I am just as good a man as you are." 
 
 "Ho, ho," Jake laughed. "As good a man as I am! 
 Ye don 't know what ye 're sayin \ Would ye like to try 
 a back-hold with me? There isn't a man in the whole 
 parish of Kixton who has been able to put me down yit, 
 though many of 'em have tried." 
 
 As a lad at school, and also while at college, Douglas 
 had excelled in wrestling, but for several years he had 
 not engaged in the sport, and was not in proper con- 
 dition. He knew that if it came to the matter of physi- 
 cal endurance he would have little chance against this 
 sturdy farmer. But it was necessary for him to do 
 something of a worthy nature at the outset of his career 
 in this parish. 
 
 "So you think you* can put me down, do you?" he 
 asked, as he stepped from the barn out upon the grass. 
 "Well, then, here's your opportunity." 
 
 Nothing loath, Jake accepted the challenge, and in a 
 trice the two were locked together in a friendly yet 
 desperate encounter. Douglas soon found that Jake was 
 depending mostly upon his great strength of body to 
 win, and that he was acquainted with hardly any of the 
 tricks of the game. He, therefore, watched his oppor- 
 tunity, at the same time being careful not to allow his 
 opponent to make use of his bear-like crushing grip. 
 This was what Jake was striving for, and he was much 
 worried when he found that he could not carry out the 
 plan which had always proved so effective in the past, 
 lie became puzzled, and so confused that ere long he 
 allowed himself to be caught off guard, with the result 
 
52 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 that his feet went suddenly from under him and he came 
 to the ground upon his back with a thud. The shock 
 affected his pride more than it did his body, especially 
 when his opponent sat upon him and smiled calmly down 
 into his face. 
 
 1 ' Are you satisfied now ? ' ' Douglas asked. ' ' You may 
 get up if you are." 
 
 * ' Great punkins ! ' ' Jake exclaimed, as he scrambled to 
 his feet. "How in the world did ye do it? Ye 're the 
 first one who ever put me down, blister me shins if ye 
 ain't" 
 
 "Oh, you are an easy mark," Douglas replied. "Why, 
 I didn't half try." 
 
 "Ye didn't!" and Jake's eyes and mouth opened wide 
 in amazement. "WTiat could ye have done if ye really 
 tried?" 
 
 Douglas was amused at Jake's* astonishment. 
 
 ' ' Are you willing to hire me now ? " he asked. ' ' Per- 
 haps you want some further proof of my ability to hold 
 my own?" 
 
 "I don't want to try any more back-holds with ye," 
 Jake ruefully replied, as he rubbed his bruised right 
 shoulder. "Ye've got the cinch on me in that game all 
 right, and I 'd like to know how ye did it. But I '11 try 
 ye in runnin', and if ye beat me in that ye 're a better 
 all round man than I am." 
 
 1 ' All right, ' ' Douglas laughingly assented. ' ' How far 
 shall we run ? I guess we '11 have big appetites after all 
 this morning's exercise." 
 
 "See that tree?" and Jake pointed to the graceful 
 elm down by the shore. "Let's run down around that 
 an' back to this barn." 
 
PUT TO THE TEST 53 
 
 " I *m ready, ' ' Douglas cried. ' * One, two, three, go ! ' ' 
 he shouted. 
 
 They got a fair start and bounded over the field like 
 two greyhounds slipped from the leash. Shoulder to 
 shoulder they ran, and by the time they reached the 
 tree there was not the slightest difference between them. 
 They both strove for the advantage of the upper ground 
 in drawing near the elm, with the result that they nearly 
 collided with each other. With a whoop Jake took the 
 lead in his dash around the tree, with Douglas right at 
 his heels. But at that instant a form leaped suddenly 
 to his feet with a wild cry of fear, and then went down 
 again as the two runners dashed into him, and then 
 sprawled full length forward. 
 
 Douglas was first to recover, for Jake had some difft- 
 culty in extricating himself from the thicket of tangled 
 bushes into which he had plunged. Standing nearby 
 was the cause of their mishap. He was a tall, lank 
 youth of about seventeen, very thinly clad, and bare- 
 footed. His expression of fear had changed to one of 
 astonishment as he watched the two intruders upon his 
 quietness. 
 
 As soon as Jake had scrambled to his feet and saw 
 who it was who had caused the disaster, he rushed 
 straight toward the motionless youth. 
 
 "Ye good fer nothin' thing!" he roared, "111 teach 
 ye to be layin ' round here at night. Take that, ye goat ! ' ' 
 and he administered a sound box upon the youth's ear. 
 
 The lad gave vent to a howl of pain, and tried to get 
 \ but Jake held him in a firm grip and was about 
 to repeat the blow when Douglas interfered. 
 
 "Here, let up on that," he ordered, at the same time 
 laying a firm hand upon Jake's arm. 
 
54 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "But he deserves to be thumped," the latter insisted. 
 "He's Empty in name and empty in head, that's what 
 he is. What business has he to be sleepin' behind this 
 tree?" 
 
 "He has as much business to be here as we have," 
 Douglas defended, "and don't you dare to touch him 
 again. Take your hands off him, or you'll go down 
 quicker than you did up by the barn." 
 
 The memory of his recent defeat was so fresh in 
 Jake's mind that reluctantly he relinquished his hold 
 upon the youth's arm. 
 
 "I'll let ye off this time," he growled, "but don't 
 let me ever catch ye hangin' around this place agin." 
 
 1 ' I wasn 't doin ' nuthin ', ' ' the lad protested, speaking 
 for the first time. 
 
 "Ye've been up to some mischief,'' Jake charged. 
 
 "No, I haven't." 
 
 1 ' What have ye been doin ', then 1 ' ' 
 
 "Fishin'; that's what I've been doin', and I came 
 here to git a little sleep." 
 
 " Where's yer net?" 
 
 "Out there," and the lad pointed with his finger 
 across the water. "Didn't ye know I was fishin'?" 
 
 "Naw, never heard of ye workin' before. Ho, ho, 
 that's a good one! To think of Empty Dempster 
 workin ' ! What 's goin ' to happen ! ' ' 
 
 At that instant the blast of a tin horn fell upon their 
 ears, which caused Jake to start and look across the 
 field. 
 
 "Great punkins!" he exclaimed. "It's Susie, an* I 
 f ergot all about them cows ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 DOWN BY THE RIVER 
 
 THE neglected cattle had been having a fine time 
 roving at will wherever their fancy led. They 
 had left the uninviting rectory grounds and were rev- 
 elling in their master's turnip patch when discovered 
 by Mrs. Jukes. When the men at last arrived and dis- 
 lodged them from this delectable spot, they scampered 
 across the fields, trampling through the young corn and 
 potato patch until they reached the peas, beets and car- 
 rots, where they stopped for another feast. Jake was 
 almost in despair. He shouted frantically, waved his 
 arms, and hurled stones at his wayward herd. It was 
 only with the greatest difficulty that the cattle were at 
 last rounded up in the barn-yard, and the gate closed. 
 
 Mrs. Jukes had taken an important part in this affair, 
 and now stood facing her crestfallen husband, with her 
 ablaze with anger. The presence of the stranger 
 did not deter her in the least. 
 
 "Where have you been?" she demanded. "Breakfast 
 has been ready for half an hour, and if it hadn't been 
 for me, the cows would have eaten everything up on 
 the place. Were you asleep?" 
 
 "I — I was gettin' a man to help with the work," 
 Jake stammered. "He's here now." 
 
 "H'm," and Mrs. Jukes tossed her head. "I guess 
 55 
 
56 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 there wouldn't have been any need for a man to help 
 with the work if the cows had been left much longer. 
 Where did you come from, Empty?" and she turned 
 toward the youth standing near Douglas. 
 
 "I was fishin'," the lad replied. 
 
 1 ' Had your breakfast yet ? " 
 
 "Naw." 
 
 ' 'Well, come in, then, and have a bite. You've earned 
 it all right this morning. Bring your help in, Jake. I 
 guess there's enough for all." 
 
 Mrs. Jukes' anger soon passed, and by the time they 
 reached the house she was in a more pleasant frame of 
 mind. She was a bright, active little body, and Douglas 
 won her friendship at once by the interest he took in 
 her two children, a girl of six and a boy of three. While 
 Mrs. Jukes was busy placing the breakfast upon the 
 table, Douglas had the children on his knees, and was 
 asking them their names and quizzing them about the 
 things in which they were interested. Though very busy, 
 Mrs. Jukes noticed this, and she felt greatly pleased at 
 the attention the stranger paid to her offspring. She 
 noted, as well, his refined face, his gentle manner, and 
 the words he used, for Mrs. Jukes had been a school 
 teacher before she married, and, according to her hus- 
 band, she had "a great deal of larnin'." She knew 
 enough, at least, to keep Jake in his place, and to make 
 him attend strictly to his work, with the result that 
 their farm was the best cultivated one in the commu- 
 nity. 
 
 "You sit here, sir," she told Douglas, putting a chair 
 in place. "I'm sorry there isn't more for breakfast. 
 I didn't expect company this morning." 
 
 "Why, this is a meal fit for a king," Douglas re- 
 
DOWN BY THE RIVER 57 
 
 plied. "It's been years since I've eaten pancakes, ham 
 and gravy. And that bread looks good, too. Did you 
 bake it yourself, Mrs. Jukes?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do all my own cooking. But that bread 
 isn't as good as I generally make. We just opened a 
 new barrel of flour, and it doesn't seem to be as good 
 as the last we had." 
 
 "It's no wonder that you are the best wrestler in 
 the parish," Douglas remarked to Jake. 
 
 "Why?" the farmer asked, with his mouth full of 
 pancake. 
 
 "Because of what you eat. Wouldn't any one be 
 strong with such food as this?" 
 
 * ' But you put me down, though, ' ' Jake acknowledged, 
 "an' you haven't been eatin' sich grub." 
 
 "Ah, it wasn't my strength, remember. It was sim- 
 ply a little trick I learned years ago." 
 
 "Will ye lam me the trick?" Jake asked. "I'd like 
 to try it on Joe Preston the next time we have a bout 
 together. My, it would surprise him." 
 
 "What, were you two wrestling this morning?" Mrs. 
 Jukes enquired. 
 
 "Yep, an' he put me down," her husband explained. 
 "Ye should have seen the way he did it, Susie. I struck 
 the ground kerflop, right on my shoulders, an' they are 
 sore yit from the thump." 
 
 No one noticed the look of wonder mingled with ad- 
 miration upon Empty's face as Jake uttered these words. 
 He forgot to eat, as he watched Douglas across the table, 
 one who could put down the champion of Rixton 
 was a marvel in Empty's eyes, and worthy of more than 
 a passing notice. He had not forgotten how this 
 
58 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 stranger had taken his part down by the big elm, and 
 would not let Jake hit him the second time. 
 
 Mrs. Jukes was almost as much surprised as Empty. 
 Though she could handle her husband and make him 
 do what she wished, she, nevertheless, had a great ad- 
 miration for his prowess as a wrestler, and was proud 
 of his standing in the community. It was his local 
 renown which had appealed to her when she was teach- 
 ing school in Rixton, and had enabled Jake to capture 
 her from his rivals, for Susie Perkins had been greatly 
 admired and sought after by the young men of the 
 place. 
 
 "Do you know anything about farm work?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I was brought up on a farm, and should know some- 
 thing about it," Douglas replied. 
 
 "But you haven't done any hard work of late, have 
 you?" 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 "Oh, I can tell by your hands. They are not hard 
 and rough like Jake's, for instance, and your face is 
 not burnt as if you had been out working in the sun. ' ' 
 
 Douglas smiled, and held up his hands for inspection. 
 
 "Please do not judge by these," he replied, "but 
 rather by my brain, heart and feet. They are all pretty 
 well worn. A week or so in the field will remedy the 
 defects of my face and hands, and make them more like 
 your husband's." 
 
 "I'm goin' to try ye out fer a week," Jake remarked, 
 "an' if ye understand hayin' as well as ye do wrestlin' 
 ye 're the man fer me." 
 
 "Just for my board and lodging," Douglas added. 
 
 "Well, that's fer you to say." 
 
DOWN BY THE RIVER 59 
 
 "I prefer it that way." 
 
 "It's settled, then," and Jake pushed back his chair 
 and rose from the table. ' ' We must do the milkin ', and 
 then git into the field. There's a heap of hay to come 
 in to-day, an ' we can 't dilly-dally. ' ' 
 
 Douglas soon proved that he was no novice at farm 
 work, and he won Jake 's approval by the quick and effi- 
 cient way he was able to milk. But it was when once 
 out in the field he showed what he could do. Though 
 not hardened to the work, he exhibited his knowledge 
 of mowing with the scythe or the machine, as well as 
 raking and putting up the hay in bunches ready to be 
 hauled in that afternoon. 
 
 It was a bright, beautiful day, and Douglas found it 
 good to be out there in the open instead of being shut 
 up in the crowded city. He was almost like a boy in 
 his joy and enthusiasm. Everything appealed to him 
 and brought back memories of other days ; the fragrant 
 scent of the new-mown hay, the zig-zagging butterflies, 
 and the birds darting here and there. Though the day 
 was hot and the perspiration at times stood out in beads 
 on his forehead, yet he was more contented than he had 
 been for a long time. "Why did I ever leave the coun- 
 try?" he asked himself. "What life so free and happy 
 as this?" Then the thoughts which had entered his 
 mind the night before came to him once again. "Would 
 it not be better to live in God's open, and rove at will?" 
 he mused. "Why should I be a slave any longer, and 
 conform to a dry ecclesiastical system ? Better to follow 
 nature and the dictates of my own heart. What is the 
 use of striving to help others when they do not wish to 
 be helped?" 
 
 He found Jake a capital companion. He was not a 
 
60 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 driver, but an encourager, and when once he saw that 
 a man was doing his best, he was satisfied. 
 
 "Ye 're all right," he told Douglas that evening after 
 the chores had been done, and they were resting for a 
 while on a log near the house. "I suppose ye feel a 
 little sore?" 
 
 "Not yet," Douglas replied, "but I expect to be 
 rather stiff in the morning after to-day's work. It will 
 take me a little while to get hardened up, and then I 'm 
 going to have a wrestling bout with you. My, how 
 calm the water is to-night, ' ' and he turned his eyes upon 
 the peaceful river away to the left. "I'm going down 
 to have a swim. The last one I had was in the har- 
 bour." 
 
 "In the harbour!" Jake exclaimed in amazement. 
 "What in the world were ye swimmin' there fer?" 
 
 "Oh, I'll tell you some day when I've got nothing else 
 to do. Where's the best place for a swim?" 
 
 "Most anywhere, but ye '11 find the water extry good 
 down by that old pine tree," and Jake pointed away 
 to the left. "There are no weeds there." 
 
 It took Douglas but a few minutes to reach the river, 
 and he walked slowly along the shore. Not a ripple 
 disturbed the surface of the water, and the trees along 
 the bank were mirrored in the clear depths. How good 
 it was to be in such a place where he could think to his 
 heart's content. No sign of human life was here, and 
 the sweet song of a vesper sparrow was the only sound 
 which broke the stillness of the evening. So far, he 
 had not found Rixton to be the terrible place it had 
 been painted, and he was beginning to think that what 
 he had heard was mere legend. He had found the Jukes 
 
DOWN BY THE RIVER 61 
 
 very agreeable people, at any rate, and he believed that 
 his stay with them would be most pleasant. 
 
 Having reached the old pine, he sat down upon the 
 sand and bent forward to unlace his shoes. His atten- 
 tion, however, was suddenly arrested by the sound of 
 violin music to his left. That it was no amateur who 
 was playing he was well aware, but one skilled in the 
 art. At any time such music would have appealed to 
 him, but on an evening like this, and amid such sur- 
 soundings, the effect was greatly enhanced. For a few 
 minutes he sat and listened, afraid to move lest the 
 charm should be dispelled. The music thrilled his soul 
 with a peculiar feeling of responsibility. It seemed like 
 a passionate cry for help, mingled with a desire for sym- 
 pathy and understanding. It was quite evident that 
 the unknown minstrel had suffered, and was pouring 
 forth upon the still evening air the deep emotions of 
 the heart. Others might hear differently, but there was 
 one interpretation he could give to the enchanting 
 sound. 
 
 Presently there came to him a desire to see this skilled 
 musician. He was beginning to realise that Rixton, no 
 matter what others might say, was becoming a most 
 interesting place. To encounter in one day a wrestler 
 like Jake Jukes, and a violinist such as he was now 
 hearing, made his coming to the parish really worth 
 while. 
 
 Looking along the shore from whence the music came, 
 Douglas could see nothing but trees. Stepping back, 
 however, a few paces, he obtained a better view, and 
 beheld not far away three persons near a large tree 
 h was bending over the water. One was an old man 
 seated upon the ground, with a young girl by his side. 
 
62 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 He could not distinguish their faces, but they were evi- 
 dently listening with rapt attention to a young woman 
 who was standing nearby playing upon a violin. Doug- 
 las noted with admiration her lithe form, and the grace- 
 ful poise of her head. So the musician was a woman ! It 
 came to him as a surprise, for in his mind he had pic- 
 tured a man alone on the shore, giving expression to 
 his feelings. He longed to draw nearer, that he might 
 see her better and look into her eyes. A soul and a 
 hand that could produce such music could belong only 
 to a person of more than ordinary beauty, so he imag- 
 ined. But he knew that if he ventured forth the charm 
 would be broken, and he would be looked upon as an 
 intruder. No, it was better for him to remain where 
 he was that he might listen and adore unseen. 
 
 As he stood there and watched, the music suddenly 
 ceased. He saw the girl sitting on the ground rise to her 
 feet, take the old man by the hand, and lead him away. 
 The musician alone remained, and with the violin under 
 her arm she leaned against the tree. Was she tired? 
 Douglas wondered. Why did she not go with the others ? 
 He was not left long in doubt, however, for in a few 
 minutes a man emerged from among the trees and ap- 
 proached the waiting woman. Ah, she had remained to 
 meet her lover, and no doubt her music had been meant 
 for him. Perhaps he had been near at hand all the 
 time, waiting a favourable opportunity to speak to her. 
 Was the old man her father who objected to her lover? 
 And was the young girl her sister who was in league 
 with her? These thoughts passed through Douglas' 
 mind as he stood there. It did not seem right that he 
 should be watching these two, and yet there was some- 
 thing which restrained him from going away at once. 
 
DOWN BY THE RIVER 63 
 
 They did not seem altogether like lovers, for the young 
 woman had stepped back as the man drew near, and 
 kept retreating slightly whenever he approached too 
 close. i 
 
 Douglas could not hear a word that was being said, 
 but the strange manner of the two interested him greatly. 
 It was evident that they were engaged in an earnest 
 conversation, though the man seemed to be doing most 
 of the talking. 
 
 For some time the two stood near the old tree, while 
 the shades of night deepened over the land. At length, 
 they moved away, walking side by side, and soon dis- 
 appeared among the trees. Douglas' interest was much 
 aroused and he felt that there was some mystery con- 
 nected with what he had witnessed. He longed to know 
 something about the violinist, where she had learned to 
 play in such a remarkable manner, and the reason of 
 the strange compelling music. 
 
 Lost in such thoughts, he forgot all about his intended 
 swim. He left the old pine tree and slowly retraced 
 his steps along the shore. It was dark by the time he 
 reached the house. He felt tired after his day's work, 
 and was glad to go at once to the little bedroom which 
 Mrs. Jukes had prepared for his use. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 MENDING TniNGS 
 
 WEARY though he was, Douglas found it diffi- 
 cult to get to sleep. He thought over the 
 various events of the day, and was not altogether dis- 
 satisfied with the results. He had made a beginning, 
 anyway, and he hoped that events would so shape them- 
 selves that he might soon be able to get to the heart of 
 the Church trouble, whatever it might be. He had not 
 yet spoken to Jake about the matter, thinking it best 
 to wait for a day or two, or until a favourable oppor- 
 tunity should occur. 
 
 Then the music he had heard down by the river kept 
 running through his mind, and, try as he might, he 
 could not silence the sound. He saw again that slight, 
 graceful figure standing near the tree, drawing the bow 
 skilfully across the strings of the violin. Where had she 
 learned to play in such a manner? he asked himself. 
 He was surprised that Rixton could produce such 
 a musician. Was she engaged to that young man? he 
 wondered, and, if so, what was the cause of her strange 
 behaviour when they met? It was late when he at last 
 fell asleep, and he dreamed of a herd of wild cattle 
 chasing a beautiful woman through a big field, while 
 he and Jake were unable to go to her assistance. 
 
 When he awoke in the morning the rain was pelting 
 down upon the roof overhead. The sound filled him 
 
 64 
 
MENDING THINGS 65 
 
 i 
 
 with a sense of deep satisfaction and brought back 
 childhood days when he had listened to the same music 
 in the little room in his old home. He was glad that 
 it was raining, as he was feeling sore after yesterday's 
 work, and he longed for a little rest from the labour 
 of the hay field. Early though it was, Jake was already 
 astir. He heard him making the fire in the kitchen stove, 
 then the rattle of milk pails, and the bang of the door 
 as he left for the barn. Douglas tumbled out of bed, 
 dressed, and in a few minutes was at the stable. 
 
 "What! You here?" Jake asked in surprise, as he 
 paused in the act of picking up a milking-stool. 
 
 "Certainly, and why not?" Douglas replied. 
 
 "Oh, I didn't expect ye to be up so early, that's 
 all. All the hired men I've ever had waited to be 
 called." 
 
 "Why didn't you call me?" 
 
 "Thought I'd let ye sleep, as ye had a hard day of 
 it yesterday. And, besides, it's rainin', so we can't 
 do much to-day." 
 
 "Rain or no rain, tired or not tired, I am going to 
 do my share while I'm here," Douglas quietly remarked, 
 as he picked up a pail and a stool. "I don't want you 
 to favour me in the least, though I appreciate your 
 thoughtfulness. ' ' 
 
 After breakfast, Jake and Douglas went out into the 
 woodhouse to grind a scythe and a cutter-bar. 
 
 "We might as well git them done while it's rainin'," 
 Jake had said, "an' there's nuthin' else we kin do this 
 morn in'." 
 
 Douglas turned the stone while Jake did the grind- 
 Be was not new to the job, as he had often done 
 it as a boy. Then, it had been a wearisome task, and 
 
,66 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Jit seemed to him that the hired man always pressed 
 as hard as he could upon the stone. But now he en- 
 joyed the task, as it was a change from the pitching of 
 hay. 
 
 "Have you many near neighbours?" he presently 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, a few," was the reply. "Sandy Barker lives 
 below me, and Caleb Titus jist above. Of course, there's 
 the corner with a whole bunch of houses. It's pretty 
 well settled all along the river." 
 i ' ' Has Caleb Titus much of a family f ' ' 
 
 "Naw. Jist himself an' one daughter, Polly." 
 
 "Has he a large farm?" 
 
 "Not overly large; though he doesn't attend to it. 
 He works in the woods in the winter time, an ' scratches 
 the ground a little in the spring, an' tries to raise some- 
 thing, though he doesn't succeed very well. He sold a 
 piece off the front of his place a few years ago to old 
 Andy Strong, an' got a good price for it, so I heard." 
 
 "Who is this man Strong?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 Jake lifted the scythe from the stone and felt its 
 edge very carefully with his thumb before answering. 
 He seemed to be pondering something, and a peculiar 
 smile lurked about the corners of his mouth. 
 1 "I can't jist tell ye who he is," he eventually re- 
 plied. "He came off an' on to Rixton fer several years 
 until at last he settled down here for good with his 
 daughters." 
 
 1 ' How many has he ? " 
 
 "Two; Nell an' Nan. My, they're beauties, an* the 
 young fellers in the whole parish are about crazy over 
 them, especially Nell. She's a wonder, an' looks after 
 .everything, the old man included." 
 
MENDING THINGS 67 
 
 "What's wrong with him?" 
 
 "Oh, he's blind as a bat, an' as queer a critter as ye 
 ever sot eyes on." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "Well, he's an unbeliever, an' has a great deal to 
 say about churches, 'ligion, an' parsons. He's down 
 on 'em all. The young fellers hereabouts git him to 
 talk to them, an' make believe they are mighty inter- 
 ested in his views. That is only their excuse fer vis- 
 itin' the place, so's they kin meet Nell an' Nan. Ho, 
 ho! it's a great joke. The old boy thinks they're lis- 
 tenin' to him, but they don't remember a word he 
 says. ' ' 
 
 "Do his daughters favour any of them?" 
 
 "Not as fer as I know. They are mighty sensible 
 girls, an' put up with the young fellers eomin' to their 
 place because it pleases their dad. He likes to express 
 his views, an' they know it." 
 
 "Why is Mr. Strong so much down on churches, re- 
 ligion and parsons?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "I can't tell ye that. He's got a grouch of some 
 kind, though I never heard him say what it is." 
 
 "Did he ever go to church?" 
 
 "Not him, though I've seen his daughters there. Nell 
 has played the organ at times, fer she 's mighty musical. 
 My. ye should hear her play the fiddle! She makes 
 it fairly talk." 
 
 "Where did she learn to play so well?" 
 
 "From her dad. He was a perfessor, or something 
 like that years ago, though his playin' is pretty shaky 
 now. ' ' 
 
 Douglas asked no more questions just then, but 
 went on with his work, and meditated upon what he 
 
68 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 had heard. Perhaps this old man Strong was really 
 the cause of much of the Church trouble in the parish. 
 Jake might be wrong in his opinion about the young 
 men, and they may have been greatly influenced by the 
 words of the blind professor. He longed to see Strong 
 that he might hear what he had to say, and at the same 
 time to meet his daughters. How he was going to do 
 this, he had not the least idea, though he somehow felt 
 that he would have to wrestle with the unbeliever if 
 he intended to make any headway in Rixton. He had 
 won his first step in the parish as a wrestler, but to 
 contend against firmly rooted opinions was a far more 
 difficult undertaking. It would be all the harder if 
 he should find Strong a stubborn, narrow-minded per- 
 son, unreasonable, and firmly-settled in his views. 
 
 When dinner was over, Jake asked Douglas if he 
 would go to the shoe-maker's for him. 
 
 "Two of the traces broke on me the other day," he 
 explained, "an' I haven't had time to git them fixed. 
 Ye '11 find Joe Benton's place jist beyond the store." 
 
 "Shall I wait until they are mended?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Yes, if ye want to, an' if Joe's able to do them to- 
 day. I think he'll do 'em all right, providin' he doesn't 
 git side-tracked on his hobby. ' ' 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "It's 'ligion, that's what 'tis. He's great on the Bible 
 an' Church history. He holds service every Sunday in 
 his house, since we've had no parson." 
 
 "Do many attend?" 
 
 "Naw. Jist him an' his wife, I guess. But Joe's 
 a good, honest feller, an' ye '11 like him. But fer pity's 
 sake, keep him off of 'ligion, if ye expect to bring them 
 traces back with ye to-day. ' ' 
 
MENDING THINGS 69 
 
 Douglas had no trouble in locating the shoe-maker's 
 shop, where he found Joe Benton busy half-soleing a 
 pair of men's boots. He was a man past sixty, grey- 
 haired, and with a smooth-shaven face. His eyes were 
 what arrested Douglas' attention. They were honest 
 eyes, which looked clear and straight into his. There 
 the old man's soul seemed to be shining forth, so ex- 
 pressive were they. Douglas thought he could read in 
 those clear depths an unattainable longing, mingled 
 with an appealing pathos. When he smiled, his whole 
 face was lighted with a remarkable glory, and he ap- 
 peared no longer a humble shoe-maker, but an un- 
 crowned king. His rude bench was his throne, and the 
 humble shop his royal palace. So it appeared to Doug- 
 las, and he wondered if others were affected in the same 
 way. 
 
 ''Are you Jake Juke's hired man, the wrestler?" 
 the shoe-maker asked, after Douglas had told him the 
 purpose of his visit. 
 
 "Yes, that's who I am," was the reply. "But how 
 in the world did you hear about our wrestling match?" 
 
 "Oh, news travels fast in Rixton, especially if Empty 
 Dempster is the carrier." 
 
 Douglas sat down upon a bench and observed Joe in- 
 tently, as he gave the final touch to a shoe in his lap. 
 Many years had passed since he had watched such work, 
 and he recalled the old shoe-maker he used to know 
 when a lad. 
 
 "Can you fix the traces to-day?" he enquired. "If 
 so, I might as well wait for them." 
 
 "Yes, I'll mend them at once," and Joe put the fin- 
 ished shoe carefully down by its mate. " I 'm not rushed 
 this afternoon." 
 
70 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "You are kept busy as a rule, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Yes, always mending something. I have been doing 
 it for over thirty years now, and there is never any 
 let-up/ ' 
 
 "You must get very tired of it at times." 
 
 "No, I can't say I do. It gives me plenty of time 
 to think as I sit here alone in my little shop. I often 
 wish that I could mend everything in life as easily as 
 I can a pair of shoes." 
 
 "Why, do you find things out of joint?" Douglas 
 queried. "You haven't seen much of the world, I 
 suppose ? ' ' 
 
 1 ' I don 't have to travel to see the world, sir, ' ' and Joe 
 paused in his work and looked earnestlfiy into his vis- 
 itor's face. "I can see the world right in this parish; 
 that is, as much as I want to see of it. ' ' 
 
 "And you think there are many things here which 
 need to be mended?" 
 
 1 i I certainly do. My heart is heavy all the time over 
 the sad condition of this parish. The church is closed ; 
 the bell is never rung; and the rectory is falling into 
 decay. But they are merely outward signs of the real 
 state of the community. The people do not worship 
 any more, and the children never go to Sunday school. 
 With this spiritual sloth has come a great moral de- 
 cline, and there are all kinds of sins and evil things 
 committed of which we, as a rule, were free years ago. ' * 
 
 "What is the cause of all this?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 "There are various reasons. The most important, 
 I suppose, is the lack of the right kind of a clergyman, 
 who would understand the people, and be a real leader. 
 If he could win the sympathy of the majority in this 
 parish, the rest might be overcome." 
 
MENDING THINGS 71 
 
 "But didn't you have good men in the past?" -i] 
 
 "Ob, yes, we've always had good men in a way. But 
 of late years the ones we had, as I said, didn't under- 
 stand the people, and as far as I could see didn't try. 
 They knew nothing about the country ways, and con- 
 sidered themselves above their people. They were al- 
 ways looking for some better field, and made no bones 
 of saying so. They used no tact at all." 
 
 "But didn't the people try to help and encourage 
 them ? ' ' Douglas asked. He was beginning to feel that 
 Joe was looking all on one side. 
 
 "Most of the people did at first, sir, and I think that 
 things would have come around all right if they had 
 been let alone." Joe paused and examined the stitches 
 he had just put in the trace. "But," he continued, 
 "there's an influence in this parish which has to be 
 reckoned with. I'm not going to say what it is, but if 
 you stay here long enough you'll soon find out for 
 yourself. ' ' 
 
 "And that influence, whatever it is, would make it 
 hard, then, for any clergyman to work here? Is that 
 what I gather from your words?" 
 
 "That's just it." 
 
 Douglas longed to know what this influence really 
 was, but he felt it would be better not to enquire fur- 
 ther just then. No doubt the shoe-maker had some 
 good reason for not telling what he knew. The only 
 thing, therefore, was for him to find out for himself. 
 
 "You must miss the services of the Church very 
 much," he at length remarked. 
 
 "I do, I certainly do," Joe emphatically replied. 
 "Though I have service in my own house every Sunday 
 
72 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 morning, yet it doesn't seem just the same as in the 
 House of God." 
 
 "Do any of the neigh ours come?" 
 
 "Not one, though I've often invited them. My wife 
 and I are the only two since Jean left us." 
 
 "Is she your daughter?" 
 
 "Yes, the youngest, and the last of the girls to go 
 from home. We always had a hymn or two when she 
 was here, for Jean had a fine voice." A far-away look 
 came into the old man's eyes as he uttered these words. 
 There was a gleam of pride, as well, showing how much 
 he thought of this daughter. 
 
 "Where is she now?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "She's in the city. She's been in the hospital there 
 nigh on to three years, training to be a nurse. We're 
 looking for her home now any day. I hope you'll meet 
 her, sir, for my Jean is a comely girl, and as good as 
 she is beautiful. We have been very lonely without 
 her. She always took such an interest in Church mat- 
 ters, and taught in the Sunday school. The children 
 loved her, and she did so much good. I'm not much 
 use in the place, as I have to stay here all the time just 
 mending things. But, Jean ! my, she was a power ! ' ' 
 
 "May I come to your service next Sunday?" Doug- 
 las asked as he rose to go. 
 
 Into Joe's eyes leaped a look of pleasure. 
 
 "Would you care to come?" 
 
 "Indeed I should." 
 
 "Can you sing?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Then you're doubly welcome. It will be great for 
 us to have a stranger join in our simple service." 
 
 As Douglas moved towards the door, his attention 
 
MENDING THINGS 73 
 
 was arrested by a picture on the wall of the Good Shep- 
 herd rescuing a lamb from a dangerous place. He 
 looked at it for a minute in silence. 
 
 "Fine picture, that," Joe remarked, as he rose from 
 his bench and came over to the young man's side. "It 
 means very much to me." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," Douglas absently replied. 
 
 "I was just like that lamb there, once," Joe contin- 
 ued in a voice that was low, yet filled with emotion. ' ' I 
 was the wandering sheep, if ever there was one." Here 
 he paused and gazed intently at the picture. "I like 
 to have it before me as I work. It tells me what I once 
 was, and how much He has done for me. It makes 
 me both thankful and careful, and it gives me a feel- 
 ing of sympathy for any one who has gone astray." 
 
 Douglas walked slowly down the road, wrapped in 
 thought. His conversation with the old shoe-maker had 
 done him a world of good. But Joe's little glimpse of 
 his past life was what affected him most of all. How 
 many other wandering sheep there were in the world, 
 nay, in this very parish, he mused. They were stray- 
 ing, as sheep without a shepherd. Some one must bring 
 them back, and who would that some one be? 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 HOME FOR REPAIRS 
 
 IT was Sunday morning, and for the first time since 
 coming to Rixton Douglas felt discontented. It was 
 a most beautiful day, with not a ripple ruffling the sur- 
 face of the river. A great peace and quietness reigned 
 everywhere, and yet there was something lacking. He 
 could not remember when he had awakened to the Day 
 of Rest and found himself unable to attend the service 
 of his Church. It did not seem right, so he mused, as 
 he stood in front of the house looking down upon the 
 neglected church, that he should not minister to the 
 people. And yet he realised that it would upset all 
 his plans if he attempted such a thing now. 
 
 He strolled over to the rectory, and walked through 
 the fields. How he longed to repair the building and 
 cultivate the land. He pictured to himself the vege- 
 tables he might raise, and how the whole place could 
 be made a most delightful spot. With a suitable house- 
 keeper, he could have a happy home, visiting his people, 
 caring for his garden, and with some spare time for 
 reading and study. 
 
 Hitherto, Douglas had not thought much about any 
 one other than a paid house-keeper. But now a feeling 
 stole into his heart that he would like to have some one 
 else to grace the rectory — a wife, who would make it a 
 real home. Of all the women he had met, he c 
 
 74 
 
HOME FOR REPAIRS 75 
 
 think of one he would care to marry, or who in turn 
 would wish to be his wife. He smiled at this idea, think- 
 ing that he was becoming sentimental. To shake off the 
 notion, he walked rapidly across the fields toward the 
 church. He had not visited it before, but viewed it only 
 at a distance. Everything around the building spoke of 
 neglect. The graveyard was thick with bushes, long grass 
 and weeds. He observed several new-made graves, and 
 wondered what clergyman had conducted the funeral 
 services. The church needed painting, and the roof re- 
 shingling. He tried the big front door, but found it 
 fastened. Through one of the side windows he w T as en- 
 abled to obtain a partial view of the interior. The 
 ceiling and walls were stained, and in places the plaster 
 had fallen off and was lying on the floor. The sight sad- 
 dened him, so sitting down under the shade of a big 
 maple tree he gazed thoughtfully at the church. What 
 labour and high ideals had gone into the erection of that 
 building, he mused, and how the whole parish must have 
 rejoiced when it was completed. He pictured the ani- 
 mated scene on the day of its consecration, and what 
 a crowd must have been present. He thought, too, of 
 the part it had taken in the life of the community dur- 
 ing the long years it had been standing there; of the 
 baptisms, weddings, and burials, and how many had 
 been helped by the services in this, their spiritual home. 
 But now it was deserted, the bell rusting overhead, and 
 the door securely locked. 
 
 For some time Douglas sat there thinking of such 
 things. Then he rose and moved away. He needed a 
 brisk walk to shake off the feeling of depression that 
 had taken possession of him. Going home to the house, 
 he found Jake stretched out comfortably under the 
 
76 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 shade of an apple tree. Douglas sat down by his side. 
 
 "Been down to the church ?" Jake enquired. 
 
 "Yes. It's pretty well deserted, isn't it? You must 
 have had several funerals lately. Who attended the 
 services 1 ' ' 
 
 "Oh, a parson from Mapledale fer two of 'em, an' Joe 
 Benton read the service over little Bennie Clark." 
 
 "You must feel lost without any service in the 
 church," Douglas remarked. 
 
 "Naw, not a bit, though I must say I did like to 
 hear the bell ring. I hain't been to church fer over 
 three years." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I didn't like the last parson we had, nor the style 
 of them who set themselves up as great Christians." 
 
 "What about Joe Benton?" 
 
 "Oh, he's all right as fer as he's concerned, an' so 
 is his wife. But what has religion done fer their fam- 
 ily, I'd like to know? Their boys are all wild, an' 
 I 've heard stories about the girls since they left home. ' ' 
 
 Jake paused and bit thoughtfully at a blade of grass 
 he was holding in his hand. 
 
 "But it ain't the Bentons I'm thinkm* so much 
 about," he continued. "There are others. Look at 
 Mike Gibband, fer instance, an' him a churchwarden, 
 too. Why, he swears like a trooper, an' would do a 
 man a mean trick whenever he could. I could tell ye 
 what he did to poor widder Stanley." 
 
 "What was wrong with the last clergyman you had?' 1 
 Douglas questioned. 
 
 "Well, he was mighty stuck up, an* thought it be- 
 neath himself to soil his nice white hands at anything. 
 You should have seen the way he kept his barn over 
 
HOME FOR REPAIRS 77 
 
 there. Why, it was a fright. An' as fer his knowledge 
 of farmin', he didn't know a thing, and as fer as I 
 could see he didn't want to. Bless my soul, he couldn't 
 tell a bean from a pea, nor a carrot from a turnip." 
 
 "But a man might not know anything about such 
 things and yet be a good clergyman," Douglas rea- 
 soned. 
 
 "That's very true," and Jake ran his fingers through 
 his hair. "We would have overlooked sich things if 
 he had been all right as a parson. But he wasn't, fer 
 he used no tact, an' got Si Stubbles down on him, an' 
 so that finished him as fer as this parish is concerned." 
 
 "Did all the people follow Mr. Stubbles in disliking 
 the clergyman?" 
 
 "Nearly all of them." 
 
 "Why was that?" 
 
 Jake looked quizzically at his companion before re- 
 plying. Douglas thought of Joe Benton's action when 
 Stubbles had been mentioned, and his interest was now 
 much aroused. 
 
 "I guess ye '11 need to understand this parish quite 
 a bit better before ye can git that question answered," 
 Jake explained. "Ye '11 have to know more about Si 
 Stubbles, too." 
 
 "He rules things here, then?" 
 
 "Should say he does." 
 
 "So any clergyman who wishes to get along in this 
 parish must keep on the good side of Mr. Stubbles?" 
 
 "That's jist it. He must knuckle down to him or 
 git out." 
 
 "But why do the people allow that?" 
 
 "Allow what?" 
 
 "Mr. Stubbles to rule things in such a way?" 
 
78 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "H'm, they can't help it. Why, Si Stubbles owns 
 most of the people in this place, body an' soul. The 
 men work fer him in the woods in the winter time, an' 
 in his mill the rest of the year. They git nearly every- 
 thing at his store, an' are generally in debt to him, 
 so that's where he has 'em. What Si says goes in this 
 parish, an' any one who bucks him has to git out. Sev- 
 eral tried it in the past, but they didn't stay here long. 
 Things got too hot fer 'em. It pays a man to keep on 
 the good side of Si, if he expects to hold on here." 
 
 "You must be independent of him, though. You 
 lave your farm, and do not look to him for anything." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. I'm in his clutches jist as much as 
 the rest of the folks. He buys all of my stuff, an' I 
 haul logs fer him in the winter. It means quite a bit 
 to me. An' besides, if Si should git down on me, why 
 all the rest would do so, too. He's got us all in the 
 same box." 
 
 "So, it's chiefly through him, then, that the church 
 is closed in this parish?" 
 
 "That's about it." 
 
 "But why doesn't some other man come, say a Meth- 
 odist or Baptist minister? Surely all of the people 
 here do not belong to the Church of England?" 
 
 "Most of 'em do, but there's a sprinklin of Baptists 
 and Methodies, with here an' there a Presbyterian. 
 Their men did come, an' started meetin's. But they 
 didn't stay long when Si once got after 'em. He 
 boasts that he is a loyal member of the Church of Eng- 
 land, an' a church warden, so he can't stand any other 
 form of 'ligion." 
 
 "Oh, I see," Douglas mused. "It's a case of the dog 
 in the manger." 
 
HOME FOR REPAIRS 79 
 
 "Put it any way ye like/' Jake replied, as lie once 
 more stretched himself out on the grass. "Si Stubbles 
 rules this place, an' I guess will rule it as long as he 
 stays here." 
 
 Douglas looked at his watch and rose suddenly to his 
 feet. It was later than he had imagined. 
 
 "I'm going for a walk," he said, "and will not be 
 back for dinner." 
 
 "Wnere will ye git anything to eat?" Jake asked. 
 
 "Oh, I'll pick up a bite somewhere. But if I don't, 
 I won't starve, as I had such a good breakfast." 
 
 Douglas walked rapidly up the road, for he wanted 
 to be in time for the service at the shoe-maker's, and 
 he had only a quarter of an hour to get there. He saw, 
 in passing, what he supposed was the Stubbles' home. 
 It was a large house with the grounds well kept, and 
 surrounded by fine trees. He observed several people 
 upon the spacious verandah, who watched him as he 
 went by. He longed to see Stubbles, that he might 
 judge for himself what kind of a man he was. Per- 
 haps he was not such a terrible person, after all, and 
 one with a little common sense and tact might handle 
 him all right. 
 
 "When Douglas reached Joe's place, he was surprised 
 to find the door of his little shop partly open. Peer- 
 ing in, he saw the old man in his accustomed place, 
 with his head buried in his hands. Thinking that he 
 might be sick, Douglas entered and asked him what 
 was the matter. Somewhat startled, Joe lifted his head 
 and Douglas was shocked at the haggard expression 
 upon his face, and the look of wretched misery in his 
 eyes. 
 
80 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "What's wrong ?" he asked, laying his hand upon 
 the old man's shoulder. "Are you ill?" 
 
 "Jean's coming home," was the low reply. 
 
 "So you told me. Isn't that good news?" 
 
 "Ah, but she's coming not as I expected. She's com- 
 ing home for repairs." 
 
 "For repairs! I do not understand." 
 
 "Read that, then," and Joe handed him a letter, all 
 soiled with tears. "It's from Jean herself." 
 
 It took Douglas hut a few minutes to read the scrawl, 
 and grasp the meaning. It told of failure in the 
 city, and that she was coming home to the care of her 
 parents. It was easy for Douglas to read between the 
 lines, and he knew that more was contained there than 
 appeared on the surface. 
 
 "She's coming to-morrow," the old man moaned. 
 "My Jean coming home for repairs!" His body shook 
 from the vehemence of his emotion, and tears rolled 
 down his cheeks. 
 
 "Perhaps she is only sick, and needs home care," 
 Douglas soothed, though in his heart he well knew it 
 was worse than that. 
 
 Joe made no reply, but sat very still looking straight 
 before him. His eyes were fixed upon the picture of 
 the Good Shepherd saving the wandering lamb. A 
 struggle was evidently going on in his mind, and it 
 seemed that he needed that scene to help him. At length 
 he rose slowly from the bench, and turned toward a 
 door on the right. 
 
 "We will have service now," he quietly remarked. 
 "We would consider it an honour to have you join 
 us." 
 
 Douglas followed him through the kitchen into a 
 
HOME FOR REPAIRS 81 
 
 little room beyond, where Mrs. Benton was sitting rock- 
 ing herself in a splint-bottom chair. She arose as they 
 entered, and held out her hand to the visitor. She was 
 a small woman, dressed in plain clothes. But Douglas 
 had eyes only for her face which, though wrinkled and 
 care-worn, bore an expression of great sweetness, and 
 her eyes shone with loving sympathy. She had been 
 weeping, but she hastily brushed away her tears with 
 the corner of her apron, as she bade the stranger wel- 
 come and offered him a chair. 
 
 On a little table rested two well-worn volumes, a 
 Bible and a Prayer Book. Here the shoe-maker took 
 his stand and reverently began to read the service. 
 His voice was low, though distinct, and he seemed to 
 feel deeply every word he uttered. Never had Doug- 
 las been so impressed by any service. He knew how the 
 hearts of these two people were bleeding, and yet here 
 they were taking their sorrow to the Master and lay- 
 ing it at His feet. 
 
 " Would you mind reading the lesson ?" Joe asked, 
 handing Douglas the opened Bible. "That is the chap- 
 ter/ ' and he placed his finger upon the page. "My 
 eyes seem a bit dim of late." 
 
 A feeling of compunction smote Douglas' heart as 
 he took the Book and began to read. What a deceiver 
 he was, and what would these two sincere people think 
 if they knew who he really was? Was he right in com- 
 ing to Rixton in such a guise ? he asked himself. Would 
 it not have been better and more manly to have come in 
 his official capacity instead of as a spy? But the thought 
 of the failure of his predecessors somewhat soothed his 
 troubled conscience. If the majority of the people were 
 like the Bentons, it would be different. There was a 
 
82 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 disease of some kind in the parish, and as a physician 
 of souls he felt that it was necessary for him to un- 
 derstand what it was before he could expect to effect 
 a cure. 
 
 When the service was over, Douglas rose to go. 
 
 " Won't you stay and have a bite with us?" Joe 
 asked. 
 
 "Please do stay," Mrs. Benton pleaded. "We are 
 lonely to-day, and it is so nice to have you with us." 
 
 Knowing that they were sincere in their request, 
 Douglas remained, and joined them in their humble re- 
 past. They sat and talked for a long time when the 
 meal was finished, and Douglas learned much about 
 the history of the Benton family, especially Jean. 
 Being the youngest, and the last to leave home, she was 
 very dear to them. No further reference was made to 
 the letter they had received, nor of her home-coming. 
 They dwelt upon her life as a child, and the part she 
 had taken in the Sunday school, and other Church 
 work in the parish. But it was quite easy for Douglas 
 to see that their hearts were almost broken, and the 
 pathetic look in their eyes told more than many words 
 of the thoughts the lips could not express. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 EVENING GLOW 
 
 IT was the middle of the afternoon when Douglas 
 bade the Bentons good-by and walked slowly down 
 the road. He had many things to consider, and he 
 wished to be off somewhere by himself. His visit to 
 the shoe-maker's had been like a benediction, and the 
 wonderful faith he had witnessed there, combined with 
 the words of brave courage to which he had listened, 
 rebuked his doubts and fears. He had been strongly 
 tempted to give up and run away from what he knew 
 to be his duty. He had planned to live only for him- 
 self, and wander wherever his spirit might lead. But 
 now a longing came upon him to stay and help those 
 two old lonely people, and comfort them in their time 
 of need. It was the first link which was to bind him 
 to this parish, the golden link of divine sympathy. 
 Little did he realise that afternoon what the next link 
 would be in his life's mystic chain. 
 
 It was a hot day and the river looked alluring and 
 refreshing. He thought of the big tree down by the 
 shore, and of its cooling shade. He decided to spend 
 the rest of the afternoon there, alone with his thoughts 
 and his violin. There was something in his soul which 
 he could express only upon his beloved instrument. He 
 had played very little since coming to Rixton. Twice 
 
84 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 he had amazed the Jukes' children with lively airs, and 
 one evening he had played for their parents. He smiled 
 to himself as he thought of its soothing effect upon 
 Jake who had fallen asleep in his chair. 
 
 There was no sign of life in the house as he entered. 
 Mrs. Jukes and the children had gone to visit a neigh- 
 bour, and Jake was sound asleep upon the sofa in the 
 sitting-room. Going at once to his little room, Doug- 
 las took his violin out of its case, and, carrying it under 
 his arm, he slipped quietly out of the house and made 
 his way swiftly down over the fields toward the river. 
 
 He was very hot and it was refreshing to sit under 
 the shade of the tree with his back against the big ice- 
 scarred trunk. In fact, he was so comfortable that he 
 had no inclination to play upon his violin which was 
 lying by his side. It was good to sit there and think. 
 Again the old lure of the freedom of a wandering life 
 swept upon him, and the impression the Bentons had 
 made gradually diminished. His eyes followed several 
 swallows as they darted here and there. What a happy 
 free-from-care life they must lead, he mused. They 
 come and go at will, and in a few weeks they will be 
 speeding away to the sunny southland. Why should 
 the birds have privileges greater than human beings? 
 
 And as he sat there a drowsiness stole over him which 
 he made no effort to resist. In a few minutes the world 
 of sight and sound was blotted out, and he slept. He 
 awakened with a start and looked around. Then he 
 glanced at his watch and found that it was four o 'clock, 
 and that he must have been asleep for about half an 
 hour. What was it that aroused him? he wondered. 
 No one was in sight, and he could hear nothing. A 
 sense of loneliness suddenly took possession of him. 
 
EVENING GLOW 85 
 
 Almost mechanically, he picked up his violin and drew 
 the bow across the strings. At first, he played several 
 old familiar hymns, but ere long he drifted off into 
 dreamland to the varying fancies of heart and mind. 
 On and on he played, unheeding time and place. The 
 music varied, now soft and low, and again rising to 
 grand triumphant strains. 
 
 At length he paused, and looked quickly around. A 
 feeling possessed him that he was being watched. 
 Neither was he mistaken, for a girl at once stepped 
 forth from behind a clump of bushes and advanced 
 toward him. He felt sure he had seen her before, but 
 just where he could not at the moment remember. She 
 was very beautiful, and her face glowed with animation, 
 and her eyes sparkled with delight. 
 
 "Oh, I heard you," she laughingly began. "You 
 thought you were alone, did you ? ' ' 
 
 "I certainly did," Douglas replied. "But I am de- 
 lighted to see you, as I was getting tired of my own 
 company. Do you like music." 
 
 "I like yours, oh, so much! I can never forget the 
 first time I heard you play." 
 
 "Heard me play!" Douglas repeated in surprise. 
 "When was that?" 
 
 "Why, don't you remember?" and the girl's eyes 
 opened wide in astonishment. "It was that awful 
 night in the city when my father was playing, and you 
 came and took the violin from him, and " 
 
 1 ' You don 't mean to tell me that you are that girl ? ' ' 
 Douglas interrupted, as he leaped to his feet. "Why, 
 yes, you are the very same though not so pale and 
 frightened. I knew I had seen you somewhere before, 
 but could not remember just where." 
 
86 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Isn't it funny!" and the girl's silvery laugh rang 
 out. "How in the world did you happen to come 
 here?" 
 
 "Oh, I'm working for Jake Jukes, that's all." 
 
 "I know that. You're the man who put him on his 
 hack. My, you must be a great wrestler!" 
 
 "Why, who told you about that?" Douglas smilingly 
 questioned. 
 
 "Empty, of course. He knows everything that goes 
 on in this place." 
 
 "And tells it, too?" 
 
 "Why, yes. He's as good as a newspaper. Nell says 
 we wouldn't know what is going on but for Empty." 
 
 "Who is Nell?" 
 
 "She's my shter, and she's reading to daddy now, 
 in front of the house. You must come with me at once 
 and see her, for I've told her about you a thousand 
 times. ' ' 
 
 "About me!" 
 
 "Yes. How you played on the street, and were so 
 good to us. And daddy will be so glad to meet you, 
 too, for he has been feeling so badly ever since that 
 night that he didn't thank you for your kindness." 
 
 The girl's face was flushed with excitement, and she 
 was anxious to rush off to tell of the great discovery 
 she had made. But she wished to take her prize with 
 her, and Douglas was nothing loath to go, as he longed 
 to meet the old man he had seen in the city. He be- 
 lieved that he was Andy Strong, of whom Jake had 
 spoken, and who had "a great deal to say about 
 churches, 'ligion an' parsons," and who was "down on 
 'em all." He felt that he must be prepared for an- 
 other wrestling match far different from his bout with 
 
EVENING GLOW 87 
 
 Jake. He might find in this blind musician an able 
 opponent, and it would be well for him to be on his 
 guard. 
 
 The girl was delighted when Douglas, tucking his 
 violin under his arm, walked along by her side. She 
 was an excellent companion and chatted incessantly. 
 
 "This is where we skate in the winter/ ' she told him, 
 pointing to the river. "Oh, it is such fun when the ice, 
 is good. The boys come at night and build great fires 
 and we skate around them." 
 
 "Do you go to school?" Douglas asked when the 
 girl paused an instant. 
 
 "Not now. You see, I have to help Nell, and that 
 takes much of my time. But daddy teaches me. He 
 is a great scholar, and knows most everything. He 
 was a college professor before he became blind." 
 
 "Was he?" Douglas asked in surprise. "At what 
 college?" 
 
 "Passdale; and it was such a lovely place. My dear 
 mother* died when we were there. I was only a little 
 girl when we left, but I remember it well. Nell was 
 at college when father became blind, and she felt so 
 badly about coming away before she could graduate." 
 
 "And have you lived here ever since?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. There is no other place for us to go." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 "Sure. I am happy wherever daddy and Nell are. 
 We have such great times together. But here we are 
 right at the house. It wasn't far, was it?" 
 
 Douglas did not reply for he was held spell-bound 
 by the beautiful and interesting scene before him. In 
 a comfortable arm-ohair sat the blind musician listen- 
 ing intently to what his daughter was reading. She 
 
88 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 was seated upon the ground by his side, with a book 
 lying in her lap. It was only for an instant, however, 
 that Douglas was privileged to watch her unobserved, 
 but it was sufficient for him to note the rare charm of 
 her face and form. 
 
 "Oh, daddy! Nell!" the girl cried as she rushed 
 forward. "You can't guess who is here?" 
 
 At these words the fair reader lifted her head and 
 her eyes rested upon the stranger. 
 
 "It's the man who played for us in the city," the 
 girl explained. "Isn't it wonderful that I have found 
 him!" 
 
 An expression of pleasure swept over the young 
 woman's face, as she at once rose to her feet and held 
 out her hand. 
 
 "Any one who has befriended my father and sister 
 is welcome here," she quietly remarked. "Father," 
 and she turned partly around, "this is the man you 
 have told us so much about. Nan has brought him 
 to see you." 
 
 "I am delighted to meet you, sir," the old man re- 
 plied, as he took Douglas' hand. "I have wanted to 
 thank you ever since that night you helped us in the 
 city. Get Mr. " 
 
 "Handyman," Douglas assisted. 
 
 "Handyman, that's a good name. Nan, get him a 
 chair and make him comfortable." 
 
 "I am sorry that I have interrupted the reading, 
 sir," Douglas apologised. "It was your daughter who 
 brought me here. I do not need a chair, as I prefer 
 to sit upon the ground." 
 
 "I am so pleased that you have come," the old man 
 replied. "You must have supper with us. We have 
 
EVENING GLOW 89 
 
 it out here on the grass when the afternoon is fine and 
 warm. Come, Nell, get it ready.' ' 
 
 "Please do not go to any trouble on my account," 
 Douglas protested. 
 
 1 ' It is no trouble, ' ' Nell assured him. ' ' It is father 's 
 supper time, anyway. He always like to have it early, 
 especially on Sunday. You two can have a nice chat 
 together. Come, Nan, I want you." 
 
 As Douglas looked around he was surprised to find 
 what a beautiful spot it really was. The house nestled 
 in the midst of fine elm and maple trees. Surround- 
 ing the house was a garden, consisting of vegetables 
 and berries of several kinds. Part of the land was in 
 grass, not yet cut. About the place was a strong page 
 wire fence which extended almost to the river. 
 
 "You have a beautiful place here, sir," Douglas 
 remarked. 
 
 "Indeed it is. A happy home and a perfect day; 
 what more could one desire? 'The Lord hath done 
 great things for us already, whereof we rejoice'. " 
 
 Douglas gave a slight start of surprise as the old 
 man slowly uttered these words. Surely, if he were an 
 unbeliever he would not quote Scripture in such a rev- 
 erent manner. 
 
 "It is good that you can view it that way, sir. Few 
 people ever think of being thankful for what they 
 receive." 
 
 "That is where they make a sad mistake. I have 
 learned through long years that Ezra of old was right 
 n he told the people to turn from weeping and to 
 'drink the sweet.' Before this blindness came upon me 
 I was something like Saul of Tarsus, always kicking 
 against the pricks, or in other words, the dictates of 
 
90 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 conscience! 'Before I was afflicted, I went astray,* 
 as the psalmist sang. But I have viewed things in a 
 different light since then, and though the Father's hand 
 has been heavy upon me, it was for my good, and for 
 which I am most thankful. The great Master's warn- 
 ing to Simon is most applicable to me. 'When thou 
 wast young, ' He said, ' thou girdest thyself, and walkest 
 whither thou wouldest ; but when thou shalt be old, thou 
 shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird 
 thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.' " 
 
 "You are well versed in Scripture, I see," Douglas 
 remarked as the old man paused. 
 
 "And why not? It is the one Book from which I 
 have drawn the greatest inspiration. It, and the works 
 of the immortal bard of Avon are the books I recom- 
 mended above all others to the students of my class. 
 Not only for the great uplifting influence, but for the 
 wonderful language, I advised them to drink deeply of 
 those profound wells of purest English." 
 
 "What did you teach at college?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 "English Literature, as you can easily guess from 
 my remarks. I was at Passdale for over fifteen years. ,, 
 
 "You must miss such work now." 
 
 "Not at all. I have other interests to occupy my 
 time, and my present leisure affords me the opportu- 
 nity of carrying out a work which has long been in 
 my mind." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "It is the re-writing and revising of my notes on 
 the plays of Shakespeare. It is well advanced now, and 
 a noted publisher, a special friend of mine, will publish 
 it as soon as it is completed." 
 
EVENING GLOW 91 
 
 4 'You must have found your blindness a great handi- 
 cap, sir." 
 
 "You and others might think so," and the old man 
 smiled. "But there is an ancient proverb which tells 
 us that when God closes a door he always opens a win- 
 dow. It was so with sightless Milton, and though I do 
 not class myself with him, nevertheless, it has been true 
 in my case. It was Emerson who gave us that won- 
 derful essay on Compensation, and he knew whereof he 
 wrote. ' ' 
 
 "But how have you managed to prepare this work 
 of yours ? ' ' Douglas questioned. ' ' You surely must have 
 had some assistance." 
 
 "Nell has been my guardian angel ever since my 
 blindness. She does all my writing, reads the plays 
 and my notes to refresh my memory. She was reading 
 King Lear this afternoon, and I was much stirred by 
 the sad trials of the poor old king. I mentally com- 
 pared my lot with his and found that the advantage 
 is mine. He had no home, two ungrateful daughters, 
 and, as far as I can learn, no 'shadow of a rock in a 
 weary land/ I have a comfortable dwelling, small 
 though it is, two good and loving daughters, a work 
 which gives me great pleasure, and the hope of a sure 
 abiding place not made with hands. What more could 
 a man desire?" 
 
 "You are indeed to be congratulated," Douglas re- 
 plied. "And much pleasure lies ahead of you when 
 your book is published. You will have the satisfaction 
 of knowing that it will be of great interest and assist- 
 ance to many. I, for one, shall look forward to read- 
 ing it." 
 
 "Will you really?" and the old man's face beamed 
 
92 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 with pleasure. "But perhaps you would like to see 
 it in manuscript? I have not shown it to any one out- 
 side my own household. You are the first I have talked 
 to in this way about my work. Nell ! Nan ! " he called. 
 
 "WTiat is it, father?" Nell asked, as she at that in- 
 stant appeared carrying a large tray in her hands. 
 
 "Bring the work, Nell. I want to show it to Mr. 
 Handyman." 
 
 "Suppose you wait until after supper, father," his 
 daughter suggested. "Everything is all ready, and 
 when we are through, you can show it to Mr. Handy- 
 man." 
 
 "But I need it now." 
 
 "Very well, then," and Nell gave the order to Nan. 
 
 It took but a few minutes to spread the white cloth 
 upon the grass and arrange the dishes. 
 
 "I am afraid this is a very humble supper," Nell 
 apologised, as she sat down upon the ground and began 
 to pour the tea. 
 
 "Surely you do not call this humble!" Douglas re- 
 plied. "It has been a long time since I have seen such 
 bread and cake. And what delicious strawberries!" 
 
 "They are Nell's," the professor proudly explained. 
 1 ' She is the gardener here. ' ' 
 
 "What about Nan, father? You must give her some 
 credit." 
 
 "Oh, I don't count, especially when it comes to farm- 
 ing," and Nan gave her pretty head a slight toss. "I'm 
 willing to let Nell take all the credit." 
 
 Douglas felt perfectly at home now. It was such a 
 bright and happy time, and he was sorry when the 
 meal was finished. He could not understand the mys- 
 tery surrounding the visit of the professor and his 
 
EVENING GLOW 93 
 
 daughter to the city, begging on the streets for money. 
 Why had they done it? he asked himself, when they 
 seemed to have everything that they needed. 
 
 "Now, Nan, bring me my box of cigars," her father 
 ordered when supper was over. 
 
 "Cigars!" the girl exclaimed in surprise. "Why, 
 daddy, you have been keeping them as if they were pre- 
 cious jewels." 
 
 "I know it, dear. But jewels must be used some- 
 time, and so must cigars. I have kept them for rare 
 days, and this is one of them. Since my old friend Dr. 
 Royden visited me, I have had no one to take a keen in- 
 terest in my work until to-day. When he sent me those 
 cigars the following Christmas, he wrote that they were 
 extra good ones, and were to be kept for special occa- 
 sions. My old pipe will serve when I am alone, but 
 to-day we must have cigars." 
 
 Douglas noticed that Nell was much pleased to see her 
 father in such excellent spirits. She touched the match 
 to his cigar, and watched him as he blew the smoke into 
 the air with considerable relish. What a picture she 
 would make sitting there, he thought. She seemed to 
 be wholly unaware of her charm and grace of manner, 
 reminding him of some beautiful flower radiating an 
 unconscious influence of sweetness, purity and joy. 
 
 1 ' This is one of the most delightful afternoons I have 
 spent," Douglas remarked. "What a beautiful 
 place you have here, with the river right near, and the 
 spire of the church showing above the tree tops. I 
 wish I were an artist. By the way, I was around the 
 church this morning, and everything shows signs of 
 <-t. It struck me as rather sad and strange." 
 
 As there was no reply, he glanced toward Nell and 
 
U THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 was surprised to see an anxious expression upon her 
 face. She gave her head a slight shake and held up a 
 warning finger. He looked quickly at her father, and 
 saw that his face had undergone a remarkable change. 
 He was sitting motionless, clutching his cigar between 
 the fingers of his right hand. Presently, his lips moved 
 and he spoke in short, jerky sentences. 
 
 "Strange, you ask?" he demanded. "Why strange? 
 What else could be expected? Half-fledged parsons 
 strutting around as if they owned the universe. Little 
 wonder the church is closed. And what of the people? 
 Look at the leaders in this parish." 
 
 "Hush, hush, father, dear," Nell interposed. "Don't 
 get excited." 
 
 " I 'm not excited ; I ? m just stating plain facts. You 
 know about Si Stubbles as well as I do." 
 
 ' ' But Mr. Handyman is a stranger, remember, father, 
 and we must not trouble him with such things on this 
 his first visit." 
 
 1 ■ Excuse me, , sir, ' ' and the old man leaned forward, 
 as if he would look into his visitor's face. "Nell is 
 quite right; she is always right, and I shall say no 
 more about this painful subject to-day." 
 
 Xell at once began to gather up the neglected supper 
 dishes, and Douglas felt that it was about time that he 
 was going. He noticed that she seemed somewhat ner- 
 vous and excited. At first he thought it was due to her 
 father's words, but as he caught her giving a quick 
 and an occasional glance toward the shore, he believed 
 that she was expecting to meet some one there in a few 
 minutes. He wondered who it was, and he felt that 
 Nell was not altogether pleased at the idea of seeing the 
 one who was expecting to meet her there. The thought 
 
EVENING GLOW 95 
 
 gave him considerable satisfaction, though he could not 
 explain why. 
 
 ''You ,will come again soon, will you not?" the pro- 
 fessor asked, as Douglas bade him good-by. 
 
 1 ' I should like to very much, ' ' was the reply. ' ' I am 
 most anxious to see your book, and hear more. about it." 
 
 1 ■ Certainly, certainly. That will give me great pleas- 
 ure. I intended to discuss it with you this evening, but 
 I do not feel equal to it now." 
 
 "And I want to hear some of your wonderful music," 
 Nell remarked. "I am so sorry that you have not 
 played anything this evening." 
 
 "There is nothing wonderful about it, I assure you, 
 Miss Strong. Just ordinary music." 
 
 "It is wonderful," Nan declared. "I have heard 
 you twice now, and I guess I know. And when you 
 .'ome next i time, remember you're not going to play all 
 the time, nor talk book nor Church matters; you're 
 going to talk to me. I've got a whole string of ques- 
 tions I want to ask you, and .this afternoon I've had 
 to be as mum as an oyster." 
 
 "All right, then," Douglas laughingly replied. "I 
 shall see that you are not overlooked the next time I 
 come. ' ' 
 
 The western sky was all aglow as Douglas walked 
 slowly along the road. There was a sweet peace over 
 meadow and forest. The thought of Nell brought a 
 thrill to his heart and a strange new peace into his soul, 
 It was the mystic glow, the prelude of the coming night, 
 and the dawn of a new to-morrow. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 
 
 IT was not easy for Douglas to get to sleep that night. 
 He thought much about the Bentons and their 
 anxiety over their wayward daughter. How sad it was 
 that a young life should be so quickly and easily ruined 
 in the city. He knew that there were many such cases, 
 of mere girls, carefully reared, who were drawn to the 
 city only to be singed or ruined, as moths by the glar- 
 ing flame. An angry feeling came into his heart, as he 
 recalled how little was being done to keep such girls 
 from destruction. He thought of Dr. Rannage, and his 
 indifference to such matters. Instead of talking, always 
 talking, he could accomplish so much by throwing the 
 weight of his influence as rector of St. Margaret's into 
 the cause. 
 
 From the Bentons and their troubles, his mind drifted 
 off to the professor and his daughters. He became 
 greatly puzzled over their position. They had a com- 
 fortable home, and seemed to be doing well. Why, 
 then, was it necessary for the blind old man and Nan 
 to beg on the city streets? Did Nell know about it? 
 he wondered. A vision of her beauty and grace of 
 manner rose before him. What strength of character 
 she seemed to possess, and how thoughtful she was of 
 her father's comfort. But what was the mystery sur- 
 rounding the man she was in the habit of meeting by the 
 
 9G 
 
PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 97 
 
 *ld tree on the shore? It was quite evident that her 
 father knew nothing about it. He longed to know more, 
 and the professor's antagonism to "parsons" and 
 church "leaders in the parish." 
 
 He thought over these problems the next morning as 
 he worked in the field. Jake might know something, but 
 he did not care to ask him. He did not wish his em- 
 ployer to have any idea that he was interested in the 
 Strongs. Though he would not acknowledge it to 
 himself, yet his hesitation, in fact, was due to the feel- 
 ing that in some way the real secret of his heart might 
 be revealed. He did not wish to let others have the 
 slightest hint of the deep impression Nell had already 
 made upon him. 
 
 Just as they had finished dinner, a neighbour, driv- 
 ing down the road, left a message for Jake. It was 
 from Si Stubbles, who wanted Jake to help him that 
 afternoon with his hay. He was short-handed at the 
 mill and could not spare a man for the field. 
 
 "That's jist like Si," Jake growled, as the neigh- 
 bour drove away. "He's always thinkin' of himself, 
 an' can't seem to see that others have hay to git in." 
 
 "But you don't have to go, do you?" Douglas asked. 
 1 ' It isn 't fair to ask you to leave your own hay. ' ' 
 
 "H'm, that's all very well in theory. But I guess 
 ye don't know Si yit. If I don't help him this after- 
 noon, he'll never fergit it, an' next winter, when I 
 want a job with my team, he'll remember it. Si 
 wouldn't fergit, not on yer life." 
 
 "Suppose I go, then, in your place," Douglas sug- 
 gested. "It will be better for you to stay here as you 
 know more about your own work." 
 
98 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 1 ' Would ye mind ? ' ' Jake asked, much relieved. ' • You 
 Mill do jist as well as me." 
 
 Douglas was only too glad to go. He did want to 
 meet Si Stubbles of whom he had heard so much, and 
 this was too good an opportunity to miss. He would, 
 no doubt, see Stubbles, and thus be able to form an 
 opinion of the man without arousing any suspicion. He 
 would be a farm-hand and nothing more. 
 
 The Stubbles' house was an imposing one, situated 
 but a short distance from the main highway. A spa- 
 cious verandah ran around the front and sides, several 
 feet from the ground. Everything about the place was 
 in excellent condition, the lawn well kept, and the 
 hedges neatly trimmed. To protect the grounds from 
 trespassers, a strong wire fence had been erected along 
 the road, and the gate leading to the house was always 
 kept closed. A board fastened to the gate bore the im- 
 posing name of "The Castle" in bright gilded letters. 
 
 As Douglas opened the gate and entered, a team had 
 just rounded the corner of the house on its way to the 
 barn. As it came in front of the house, Stubbles him- 
 self appeared upon the verandah, carrying a table nap- 
 kin in his hand, for he had not yet finished his dinner. 
 He was in no pleasant frame of mind, and was furi- 
 ously berating the teamster. 
 
 "What do you mean by driving in front of the 
 house?" he demanded. "Don't you know any better?" 
 
 "I've got to git that hay down there in the corner," 
 the teamster surlily replied. "If I don't go in this 
 way, how am I to git out, I'd like to know? I can't 
 turn down there." 
 
 "Carry the hay out, then, you lazy rascal." 
 
PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 99 
 
 "It 11 take me all the afternoon to do it, an' then 
 yell growl at me if I don't git done before night." 
 
 "None of your impudence to me," Stubbles roared. 
 " 1 11 make an example of you if you dare to speak that 
 way again." 
 
 He was livid with anger, and, forgetting where he 
 was, he took a step forward as if he would then and 
 there chastise the man with his own hands. As he did 
 so, he stepped off the platform, and with a wild shriek 
 and a frantic effort to save himself, he went headfirst 
 down the steps to the ground below. 
 
 Douglas had been standing not far off listening with 
 considerable interest to the angry conversation between 
 master and man. But when he saw Stubbles take the 
 wild plunge, he rushed forward and picked up the in- 
 jured man. The latter was groaning and cursing, con- 
 tending that he was killed, and that the teamster was 
 to blame for the accident. 
 
 Lifting him in his arms, Douglas carried him up the 
 steps just as Mrs. Stubbles came from the house. 
 
 "Oh! what is the matter?" she cried. "What has 
 happened to Simie?" 
 
 "He's had a bad fall," Douglas replied. "Hold the 
 door open while I carry him into the house. Show me 
 where to lay him." 
 
 Into the sitting-room he carried the wounded man, 
 and placed him upon a large sofa near the window. 
 ^\i:>. Stubbles followed, and stood over her husband, 
 wringing her hands in despair. 
 
 "Are you much hurt, Simie?" she asked. "Shall I 
 send for the doctor?" 
 
 "Shut up your bawling!" her husband ordered. 
 "I'm not killed, though I thought I was at first. Get 
 
100 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 some warm water and bathe my bruises. Confound 
 that teamster! I'll discharge him at once. What busi- 
 ness had he to drive in front of the house and then talk 
 back to me as he did? When is Ben coming back?" 
 
 "He expected to get home this morning," Mrs. Stub- 
 bles replied. 
 
 "He expected to do so, did he? H'm, he's always 
 expecting to do things he never does. He should have 
 been here to look after the haying. I've got too many 
 things on my mind already without having to bother 
 with that." 
 
 1 ' Don 't be too hard on the dear boy, Simie. He is to 
 bring the girls, you know. They must have delayed 
 him." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's just like you; always excusing Ben, 
 the worthless scamp. If he were as interested in busi- 
 ness as he is in running around in the car and spend- 
 ing so much time in the city, what a help he would be 
 to me. But hurry up with that water, can 't you ? My, 
 I'm sore!" 
 
 "You won't need me any more now, I suppose," 
 Douglas remarked when Mrs. Stubbles had left the 
 room. "I might as well get to work." 
 
 "Who are you, anyway?" the injured man asked, 
 turning his little squinting eyes upon Douglas' face. 
 For the first time he seemed to realise that it was a 
 stranger who had assisted him. 
 
 "I am John Handyman, Jake Jukes' help," was the 
 reply. "I have come to give you a hand with the hay 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "And isn't Jake coming?" 
 
 "No. He has hay of his own to get in, and so I 
 offered to come in his stead." 
 
PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 101 
 
 "Just like Jake," Stubbies growled, "always think- 
 ing of himself. He knot's very we! J what K fkt I am in. 
 I don't know what this place is coming to, anyway. 
 One can't get a neighbour to do a hand's turn, and the 
 men you hire these days are as impudent as the devil." 
 
 "Don't you worry about the hay," Douglas soothed. 
 "We can get it in all right this afternoon." 
 
 "Do you know anything about haying?" 
 
 "I was brought up on a farm, and should know 
 something about it." 
 
 "You look big and strong enough," and Stubbles 
 viewed him from head to foot. "Say, are you the chap 
 who beat Jake in a wrestling bout lately?" 
 
 "So you heard about that little encounter, did you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I naturally hear of such things sooner or 
 later. But what are you doing here, anyway? You 
 don't look like a man who has been in the habit of 
 hiring out." 
 
 "I'm just trying to earn my daily bread, and farm- 
 ing suits me at the present time." 
 
 "I suppose I'll have to put up with you," Stubbles 
 growled. "Get to work at once, and no fooling, mind." 
 
 Douglas found the teamster a pleasant working com- 
 panion, who loaded the hay on the wagon. 
 
 "How is Si feelin' now?" he enquired. 
 
 "Oh, I guess he's all right. He had a nasty fall 
 and might have been killed." 
 
 "H'm, that old cuss won't die that way. It would 
 be too easy a death. If he doesn't bust when he gits 
 in one of them mad fits of his, he'll be skinned alive 
 by somebody one of these days. I'd like to be around 
 an' hear him squeal. It would make up fer a great 
 deal of impudence I've stood, to say nuthin' of his 
 
102 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 confounded pride, as well as the whole darn family. 
 But I ftiit i, i sp witn Si bettor than I kin with Ben; 
 he's the limit." 
 
 " What's the matter with him?" 
 
 "Well, Si knows a little about farmin', but Ben 
 knows no more about it than I do about harnessin' up 
 a baby with pins, strings, ribbons, an' all its other gear. 
 Ben thinks he knows, an' that's where he makes a fool 
 of himself. He gives orders which no one in his right 
 mind would think of obeyin ', an ' then he gits as mad as 
 blazes when ye don't do as he says." 
 
 "Is Ben the only son?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Thank goodness, yes. One is bad enough, dear 
 knows, but if there were more, ugh!" 
 
 "What does Ben do?" 
 
 "Do? Well, I wouldn't like to tell ye." 
 
 "Does he work at anything, I mean?" 
 
 "Not a tap. He depends upon his dad fer a livin\ 
 See what he did this mornin'. Instead of stayin' home 
 an' lookin' after the hayin', he went to the city. That's 
 what he's always doin'j runnin' away when there's 
 work to be done." 
 
 "He was home yesterday, was he not?" 
 
 "Y'bet yer life he was, especially in the evenin'. 
 He's ginerally around about that time." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, he's struck on the old professor's daughter. 
 Her father doesn't like the Stubbles crowd, an' so Ben 
 sneaks around there after he 's in bed. ' ' 
 
 "Isn't it strange that the professor's daughter would 
 do such a thing?" * 
 
 "Now ye've got me," and the teamster gave a sav- 
 age thrust at a forkful of hay Douglas had just handed 
 
PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 103 
 
 up. "The whole thing is a mystery. Nell's as fine a 
 girl as ever wore shoe-leather, an' why she meets that 
 feller in the evenin' beats me." 
 
 Douglas made no reply to these words, but went on 
 quietly with his work. So it was Ben Stubbles who met 
 Nell Strong every night by the old tree! Surely she 
 must know something about his life if what the team- 
 ster had just told him were true. He could not under- 
 stand it. She did not seem like a woman who would 
 have anything to do with such a worthless character. 
 And yet she was meeting him regularly, and at the 
 same time deceiving her blind old father. 
 
 The hay in the corner field had all been loaded, and 
 the teamster was stooping for the reins, when the rau- 
 cous honk of an auto caused him to pause and look to- 
 ward the road. 
 
 "It's Ben an' the girls now," he exclaimed. "Ye'd 
 better open the gate." 
 
 "Oh, I guess they will get through all right," Doug- 
 las replied. 
 
 "No, ye'd better go," the teamster urged. "Ben '11 
 be as mad as the devil if ye don't. If ye won't, then 
 I'll have to git down an' do it. There, he's tootin' his 
 horn agin. He's pretty mad, I can tell ye that." 
 
 Carrying his fork over his shoulder, Douglas walked 
 deliberately across the field toward the gate. He did 
 not wish to hurry, as he wanted to see how angry Ben 
 could become, and what he would do. 
 
 "Get a move on there, you lazy devil!" Ben shouted. 
 "Didn't you hear the horn?" 
 
 Douglas had almost reached the gate, when he sud- 
 denly stopped and stared at the man in the car. He 
 had seen that face before only for a few seconds be- 
 
104 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 neath the electric light at Long Wharf on the water- 
 front. But he would have known it anywhere, for it 
 had been indelibly impressed upon his memory. So 
 Ben Stubbles was the contemptible coward who had 
 pushed that woman into the water and left her to her 
 fate! He had often longed to come face to face with 
 that man, and he had planned what he would do when 
 they met. But here he was before him, haughty and 
 impudent, Nell's lover, and the son of the autocrat of 
 Rixton. 
 
 1 ' What in h are you staring at ? ' ' Ben demanded. 
 
 " Didn't you ever see human beings before? Open 
 the gate, and be damned quick about it, too." 
 
 The blood surged madly through Douglas' veins, and 
 to relieve his feelings he clutched the gate and tore it 
 open. The occupants of the car were greatly amused 
 at his alacrity, and attributed it to fear. 
 
 "That stirred your stumps, all right, didn't it?" Ben 
 sneered, as the car lurched past and then sped up the 
 drive-way. 
 
 Douglas closed the gate, fastened it, and hastened to 
 the barn where the teamster was awaiting him. He 
 climbed into the loft and stowed away the hay as it 
 was handed up to him. At times he hardly knew what 
 he was doing, so greatly was his mind agitated. Why 
 had he not given that fellow the sound thrashing he de- 
 served? And yet he was thankful that he had con- 
 trolled himself, as he might have spoiled all his plans 
 had he given way to hasty action. He worked with a 
 feverish haste all that afternoon, and talked but little. 
 This change puzzled the teamster, and he advised him 
 to take his time. 
 
PRIDE AND IMPUDENCE 105 
 
 ''It's no use killin' yerself," he told him. "Si Stub- 
 bles won't thank ye if ye work yer head off." 
 
 "I want to get through with this job," Douglas re- 
 plied. "I'm not working by the day as you are, and 
 Jake needs me." 
 
 When the last of the hay had been unloaded, Doug- 
 las left the barn and started for the road. He had not 
 seen Ben since the encounter at the gate, and he was 
 hoping that he would not meet him again that after- 
 noon. He did not feel altogether sure of himself, and 
 he needed time and quietness to think carefully over 
 what he had better do. 
 
 He was part way down to the road when he heard 
 some one calling. Stopping and looking back, he saw 
 that it was Ben hurrying after him. As he approached, 
 Douglas saw that his manner was altogether changed, 
 and he seemed quite affable. He was dressed in a white 
 tennis-suit, and he looked cool and self-possessed. 
 
 * * Say, ' ' he began, ' ' I understand you play the fiddle. ' ' 
 
 "Well, what of it?" Douglas curtly questioned. 
 
 "You really do, then?" 
 
 "Yes, when I feel like it." 
 
 "Won't you feel like it to-night? You see, there's 
 to be a dance in the hall this evening, but the man 
 who generally plays is sick." 
 
 "Can't you get any one else?" 
 
 "No one who can really play. There is a chap who 
 tries to, but you would think he was filing a saw in- 
 stead of playing a fiddle." 
 
 "Perhaps I can't do any better." 
 
 "Oh, you'll be all right. Jake and his wife have 
 heard you, and so has Empty." 
 
 "And Empty spread the report, did he?" 
 
106 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Yes. But, say, you'll play, won't you?" 
 
 Douglas did not reply at once. He wondered what 
 Ben would say if lie told him what he knew about his 
 contemptible act at Long Wharf. He did not want to 
 play at the dance, and yet he knew it would be too 
 good an opportunity to miss. He would see many of 
 the young people of Rixton, and learn things which 
 might prove of great assistance. 
 
 "Where is the hall?" he at length asked. 
 
 "Down at Kane's corner, about a mile and a half 
 from here." 
 
 "What time does the dance begin?" 
 
 "Oh, about nine o'clock. The crowd won't get there 
 much before that." 
 
 "Very well, then, I will be there and do the best 
 I can," 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE FACE AT THE DOOR 
 
 IT was after nine before the dance in the hall at the 
 Corner began. Douglas was there early, and he 
 watched with much interest the arrival of the various 
 young couples. He did not know any of them, and as 
 he sat back in one corner he mused upon their lives, 
 and wondered how many of them would be members 
 of his flock in the years to come. They gave the stran- 
 ger who was to play for them that night but passing 
 glances, though all had heard of his prowess as a wres- 
 tler. But if they had only known who he really was, how 
 curiously they would have observed his every movement. 
 
 Douglas was much pleased at the quiet way in which 
 the young men and women conducted themselves. 
 There was no loud talking, and when the dance began, 
 they took their places upon the floor without any undue 
 commotion. They danced well and it was a real pleas- 
 ure for him to play. He was quite familiar with the 
 dances, and he recalled just such events in his own 
 home village years before, when he himself had taken 
 a leading part. He smiled grimly to himself as he 
 thought of what his Bishop and certain of his brother 
 clergymen would say if they could see him playing the 
 fiddle at a country dance. 
 
 Among those upon the floor there was one couple 
 107 
 
108 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 which attracted his special attention. They danced well, 
 and seemed greatly devoted to each other. The man 
 was good-looking, and a fine specimen of physical 
 strength. His partner was of medium height, neatly 
 dressed, and remarkably pretty. Her eyes danced with 
 pleasure, and her whole body moved in a graceful 
 rhythm to the music, and occasionally she cast a grate- 
 ful glance toward the player. She evidently enjoyed 
 good music when she heard it. Everywhere there 
 seemed to be perfect peace and harmony, and to Doug- 
 las the dancers appeared like one big family. They all 
 knew one another, and were happy together. 
 
 During the intermission which followed the first 
 dance, Ben Stubbles and his sisters, Miss Annabel and 
 Miss Maria, arrived. They were accompanied by Nell, 
 who looked, Douglas thought, prettier than ever. She 
 had no right to come with the Stubbles, so thought he, 
 and she seemed to be out of place with them. 
 
 A new atmosphere now pervaded the room. The feel- 
 ing of harmony had vanished, and it was easy for Doug- 
 las to tell that this was due to the presence of Ben 
 and his sisters. Their pride and haughtiness were 
 most apparent, and Ben dominated the gathering. 
 
 He and Nell were partners in the first dance. Doug- 
 las' eyes followed them as they moved around the room, 
 and in and out among the others. Nell fascinated him, 
 though it was quite evident that she was not happy. 
 There was no light of pleasure in her eyes, and her 
 face was unusually pale. Though she danced well, yet 
 she had the appearance of one who was moving almost 
 mechanically. This appealed to Douglas more than if 
 she had shown a great vivacity of spirit. There was 
 something tragic about her face and manner, which, in 
 
THE FACE AT THE DOOR 109 
 
 fact, was almost akin to despair. What could it be? 
 the player wondered. How he longed to know the mys- 
 tery surrounding her young life, and why she was act- 
 ing a part for which she evidently had no liking. 
 
 When the dance was finished, Nell came to where 
 Douglas was sitting and took a chair by his side. A 
 slight sigh of relief escaped her lips, which Douglas 
 was not slow to notice. 
 
 1 ' Are you tired ? ' ' he asked. 
 
 "Very," was the low reply. "I have been working 
 hard all day, and this dance is too much for me." 
 
 "You dance well. It was a great pleasure to watch 
 you." 
 
 "Was it?" and she looked at him with large, grate- 
 ful eyes. "No one could help dancing well with such 
 music. This is something new for you, is it not?" 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "It is merely a notion of mine. We have never 
 had such playing here before." 
 
 "I suppose you know every one here?" Douglas 
 queried, wishing to change the subject of conversation. 
 
 "Oh, yes. I know them quite well." 
 
 "WTio, then, is that fine-looking young man just 
 across from me with the pretty girl by his side?" 
 
 "That is Tom Morrison, who, next to Jake Jukes, is 
 the best wrestler in the parish. The girl is Susie Ste- 
 phenson. They are to be married in September, so it is 
 reported. ' ' 
 
 "They seem to be very happy in each other's com- 
 pany." 
 
 "They are now," was all the information Nell vouch- 
 safed in reply, and then became suddenly silent. 
 
 This was the only conversation Douglas had with 
 
110 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Nell that evening. She was too much in demand to 
 remain long off the floor, tired though she was. Doug- 
 las noticed that Ben did not miss a dance, and that 
 whenever he came near Tom Morrison there was some 
 trouble. Ben seemed to make a special effort either to 
 crowd him off the floor or to interfere with his move- 
 ments. Tom endeavoured to keep out of his way and not 
 to make any trouble. It was plain that he was very an- 
 gry, for his face had lost its bright, sunny expression 
 and was dark and lowering. His habit of always re- 
 treating puzzled Douglas. "Why doesn't he give the 
 impudent fellow warning to leave him alone ? ' ' he asked 
 himself. 'I know what I should do. That cad deserves 
 a thrashing, if ever any one did, and I believe Tom could 
 do it without any trouble. " 
 
 During the fifth dance Ben again claimed Nell as 
 his partner. They had not been long on the floor when 
 Ben became suddenly agitated. His face went white as 
 death, and his staring eyes were turned toward the 
 door. Douglas, too, looked, and the surprise he re- 
 ceived caused him to stop playing. There, looking in at 
 the open door, was the face of a woman. He remem- 
 bered it at once, for it was the face of the same woman 
 he had rescued from the harbour at Long Wharf. He 
 glanced toward Ben, and saw that he had left Nell and 
 was moving slowly toward the door. 
 
 There was a breathless hush, now, in the hall, as all 
 watched to see what would happen next. The face at 
 the door had been withdrawn, and as Ben passed out 
 into the night Douglas again struck up the music, and 
 the dance was continued. Nell sat apart by herself. 
 Her face was very pale, and her hands lying in her 
 lap were clenched hard together. Many curious glances 
 
THE FACE AT THE DOOR 111 
 
 were cast upon her, though she did not appear to no- 
 tice them. 
 
 Douglas felt very sorry for Nell. He realised that 
 she must be suffering greatly. He himself was more 
 excited than was his wont, though outwardly he re- 
 mained calm and went on with his playing. Who could 
 the woman be? he wondered. She must have followed 
 her false lover to Rixton, and had awaited the moment 
 when he was dancing with Nell Strong. From Ben's 
 excitement, he surmised that the villain believed that 
 she was dead and would trouble him no longer. 
 
 The dance had just finished as Ben came back into 
 the hall. He was still pale, and his face was some- 
 what haggard. Crossing the floor, he chose a partner 
 and called out for the music. As Douglas was in no 
 hurry to obey, Ben ripped forth an angry oath and 
 demanded what was the matter. Douglas was tempted 
 to play no more, but being anxious to see how far Ben 
 would carry his reckless spirit which now possessed 
 him, he did as he was bidden. 
 
 Soon the dancers were in full swing, among whom 
 were Tom Morrison and Susie Stephenson. Ben now 
 began to interfere with every one on the floor, choos- 
 ing out Tom and Susie for special attention. It was 
 quite evident to Douglas that all tried to keep out of 
 his way, but the more they tried the more Ben was 
 determined to produce a quarrel. The climax was 
 reached when, coming near a young couple, he deliber- 
 ately surged against them and sent the girl reeling 
 against the nearby wall. 
 
 At that instant the music ceased. Douglas waited 
 for a few seconds while all eyes were turned in his di' 
 rection. 
 
112 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "I shall not play another note," he calmly began, 
 "unless Mr. Stubbles decides to behave in a proper 
 manner." 
 
 "What's that?" Ben demanded, somewhat surprised 
 that any one should dare to rebuke him. 
 
 "Didn't you hear what I said?" Douglas asked, as 
 he laid aside his violin and rose to his feet. ' ' I said that 
 I would not play another note unless you decide to be- 
 have in a proper manner." 
 
 "Do you mean to insinuate that I have not been be- 
 having myself?" Ben retorted. 
 
 "I did more than insinuate. And I say further 
 that you have been behaving disgracefully and not at 
 all like a gentleman." 
 
 "You impudent cur," Ben roared as he stepped for- 
 ward. "How dare you speak to me like that? Take 
 back those words at once or I'll make an example of 
 you." 
 
 "Come and do it, then. I will meet you half way," 
 and Douglas advanced toward him as he spoke. 
 
 But Ben hesitated. He found himself in a fix, and 
 did not know how to get out of the tangle. His bluffs 
 had always been effective in the past, and no one had 
 dared to oppose him simply because he was Simon Stub- 
 bles' son. But here was a man, a stranger, who looked 
 very big to him, just then, standing before him and 
 challenging his right to rule. Ben was no fighter, and 
 no one knew it better than himself. He was a coward 
 at heart, and his present embarrassing position un- 
 nerved him. He glanced quickly around and seeing 
 the eyes of all riveted upon him made him angry. If 
 he should back down, he well knew that he would be the 
 laughing-stock of the whole parish. 
 
THE FACE AT THE DOOR 113 
 
 "Are you going to take back those words ?" he at 
 length found voice to ask. 
 
 "Not unless you make me," Douglas calmly replied. 
 "Now is your chance." 
 
 "Do you realise who I am?" Ben roared, thinking 
 to intimidate his opponent. 
 
 "I have a fairly good idea. But that doesn't make 
 any difference. It's you I am dealing with now, and 
 not your father." 
 
 1 ' But I can drive you out of this parish. I can make 
 it so hot for you that you won't dare to stay here an- 
 other day." 
 
 "H'ni," and Douglas gave a slight sarcastic laugh. 
 "Why don't you do it, then? Here is your chance. 
 Make it hot for me, and let me feel some of your great 
 driving power." 
 
 These deliberate and tantalising words stirred Ben 
 to the highest pitch of anger. He threw all discretion 
 to the winds, and raved, cursed and stamped in his 
 fury. 
 
 "Stop that," Douglas sternly ordered, stepping for- 
 ward and laying his right hand firmly upon his shoul- 
 der. "If you have no respect for yourself, have it for 
 the ladies who are present." 
 
 Ben 's only reply was to throw aside the warning hand 
 and hit his opponent a blow in the face. Like lightning 
 Douglas suddenly reached out, seized Ben in his arms, 
 lifted him bodily from the floor, and hurried with him 
 toward the door. Ben tore and scratched like a wild- 
 cat in his efforts to free himself. But he was helpless 
 in the powerful grip, and soon he found himself tum- 
 bling down the steps leading to the hall. 
 
 Douglas stood for a few seconds at the door looking 
 
114 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 out into the night. Then he turned and walked slowly 
 back across the room, picked up his violin and put it 
 into its case. 
 
 ''I think it best to discontinue the dance/ ' he told 
 the people who were watching him with keenest inter- 
 est. "I am in no mood for playing any more to- 
 night." 
 
 As he spoke his eyes happened to rest upon the Stub- 
 bles sisters, who were standing together on the opposite 
 side of the hall. Scorn and anger were depicted upon 
 their faces as they glared upon him. It was the elder, 
 Miss Annabel, who gave the parting thrust. She stepped 
 quickly forward into the middle of the room, and looked 
 about over the gathering. 
 
 "When you have another dance," she began, "see 
 to it that you ^et some one to play who has the in- 
 stincts of a gentleman. Pa will be greatly annoyed 
 when he hears how our pleasant evening has been spoiled, 
 and by an unknown farm-hand at that." She em- 
 phasised "farm-hand" and cast a look of withering 
 scorn upon Douglas. 
 
 The latter bowed slightly before this outburst, and 
 picked up his violin. 
 
 "I feel that all the reasonable ones here to-night 
 know quite well who spoiled the dance," he replied. 
 ^ "They can judge for themselves who has shown the 
 - want of the instincts of a true gentleman. ' ' 
 
 Having said this, he moved swiftly toward the door 
 and disappeared into the night. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 ASTRAY ON THE HILLS 
 
 LEAVING the hall, Douglas walked slowly up the 
 road. He had partly expected to find Ben wait- 
 ing outside, but he was nowhere to be seen. Douglas 
 had not gone far, however, ere an auto overtook him 
 and went by at great speed. He knew very well who 
 was the driver, though he could not tell how many were 
 in the car. He smiled grimly to himself as he thought 
 of Ben 's anger, and he wondered in wjjat way he would 
 try to wreak a suitable revenge. He realised now that 
 the Stubbles were his principal opponents in the place, 
 and he felt quite sure that they had been the chief 
 cause of the trouble in church affairs in the past. Why 
 did the people allow them to rule in such an autocratic 
 way? he asked himself. Surely there was some one 
 strong enough to oppose their pride and impudence. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening, and Douglas was in no 
 hurry to reach home. Several teams overtook him, and 
 as they approached, the animated voices became stilled. 
 All knew the silent man walking alone in the night, and 
 they waited until they were well past before resuming 
 their conversation. 
 
 At length he came to the brow of the hill where it 
 dipped into the valley, and here a most glorious scene 
 was presented to his view. Beyond, lay the river, with- 
 out a ripple disturbing its surface. Above, shone the 
 
 115 
 
116 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 moon, and across the water a stream of light lay like 
 a path of burnished silver, leading to a world of en- 
 chantment beyond. Douglas' heart was deeply stirred 
 Et the sight, and he sat down under a fir which 6tood 
 on the edge of a clump of trees, and leaned back 
 against the trunk. He feasted his soul upon the mag- 
 nificent panorama before him. It was just what he 
 needed to dispel the miasma which had been gathering 
 around him owing to his recent contact with the Stub- 
 bles. The air, rich and fragrant with the scent of new- 
 mown hay, stimulated him like a magic elixir. Mother 
 Nature was in one of her most gentle moods, and with 
 unseen fingers soothed both heart and brain of her 
 ardent worshipper. 
 
 Ere long, the sound of voices fell upon his ears, 
 causing him to listen attentively. Several people were 
 walking slowly along the road discussing the incident 
 at the hall. 
 
 "He's in for it now, all right." It was a man who 
 spoke. 
 
 "What can Ben do?" It was a woman who asked 
 the question. "He was given the chance to fight it out 
 there and then, but he acted like a fool." 
 
 "Ha, ha, Beji was cornered for once to-night. It 
 needed a stranger to bring him to his senses." 
 
 "Who is that man, anyway? I liked the way he be- 
 haved, and his playing was so nice." 
 
 Douglas could not hear what the man said in reply, 
 though he longed to know. It gave him a degree of 
 comfort, however, to feel that all did not blame him 
 for the disturbance at the hall. He knew how neces- 
 sary it was to win the god will of the people in gen- 
 eral if he expected to work among them in the future. 
 
ASTRAY ON THE HILLS 117 
 
 For some time he sat there, and then continued on 
 his way. He had just reached the foot of the hill when 
 he saw some one coming toward him. Soon he was able 
 to recognise the form of Joe Benton, the shoemaker. 
 
 "You are out late to-night," Douglas accosted. "You 
 seem to be in a great hurry. Is anything wrong V 
 
 Joe came up close and looked keenly into the young 
 man's face 
 
 "Oh, it's you, is it?" he panted. "Have you seen 
 anything of my lass?" 
 
 "Not to my knowledge." 
 
 "No?" There was something so pathetic about the 
 way that single word was uttered, that Douglas' heart 
 ached for the old man. 
 
 "When did she leave home?" he asked. 
 
 "Just after supper." 
 
 "Oh, she'll come back all right, never fear." 
 
 "Ah, but Jean's so changed," and Joe clutched Doug- 
 las by the arm. "She's not what she used to be. Be- 
 fore she went to the city I had no fear about her not 
 coming home in proper time. But now it is different. 
 There's something troubling the lass, and I believe her 
 mind is affected. Oh, it is terrible!" 
 
 "Has she told you anything?" 
 
 "No, not a word. It's not like Jean. She used to 
 tell us everything. She was a child then; but now — • 
 Lord have mercy upon her ! ' ' 
 
 As Douglas stood there watching the heart-broken 
 old man, a sudden idea flashed into his mind. Had he 
 really seen Jean? Was it her face he had beheld at 
 the hall door? Yes, he felt almost certain that it was 
 she, the same woman he had rescued from the water of 
 the harbour. But what should he do ? Dare he tell Joe 
 
118 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 all about it, and how Ben Stubbles had tried to destroy 
 her? 
 
 As he thought over these things, the shoemaker was 
 standing looking out over the fields. Only by the light 
 of the moon could Douglas see his face, and he noticed 
 that it was very haggard. But he could not see the fire 
 of anger which was kindling in his eyes. Only when the 
 bent form straightened itself with a jerk, and a tense 
 arm was thrust out, did he fully realise the greatness 
 of his emotion. 
 
 "My Jean is not to blame/' he cried. "She is as 
 innocent as a child. Some villain has injured her, and 
 I must find him. And when I do " 
 
 "You will forgive him," Douglas added, as Joe 
 paused for lack of suitable words to express his wrath. 
 
 "Forgive him! Why should I forgive a man who has 
 ruined my lass?" 
 
 "Because you are so bidden by the Great Master." 
 
 Joe looked quickly up into his companion's face, and 
 his body somewhat relaxed. 
 
 "But did he ever suffer like this?" he questioned. 
 
 "Surely you know what he endured." 
 
 "Ay, ay, I have read it all. But look, I could bear 
 all that easier than this. I could stand to have my body 
 torn to pieces bit by bit rather than see my darling 
 child, my baby, injured. Was His suffering anything 
 like mine?" 
 
 " 'God so loved the world that he gave his only Be- 
 gotten Son,' " Douglas quoted. "Have you forgotten 
 what He said?" 
 
 Joe made no reply. A great struggle was going on in 
 his heart between right and wrong, and Douglas pitied 
 him. Just then the sound of some one hurrying across 
 
ASTRAY ON THE HILLS 119 
 
 the field diverted their attention. In a moment Empty 
 had leaped the fence and stopped suddenly before them. 
 He was startled to see the two men standing there, and 
 peered intently into their faces. 
 
 "Gee!" he exclaimed. "Ye nearly jolted me to sliv- 
 ers." 
 
 "Empty, have you seen my Jean?" Joe eagerly en- 
 quired. 
 
 "Sure. She's out on the hills. I was jist hustlin' 
 fo tell ye." j 
 
 "On the hills!" Joe repeated. "What is she doing 
 but there?" 
 
 "Search me! I don't know what she's doin' there, 
 an' I guess she doesn't." 
 
 "W-what do you mean?" There was an anxious 
 note in the old man's voice. 
 
 "Well, she's been wanderin' round there fer some 
 time now, talkin' to herself strange like, an' singin'. 
 She gives me the shivers, that's what she does. It ain't 
 nat'ral fer Jean to be actin' that way. Ye'd better 
 come an' see fer yerself." 
 
 Silently the two men followed Empty across the field, 
 and up the side of a hill. At the top was a fence, and 
 as they came to this, Empty paused and peered cau- 
 tiously through the rails, and held up a warning finger. 
 
 "S-s-h," he whispered. "There she is now. Ye kin 
 jist see her. She's comin' this way. Listen; she's 
 singin ' ! " 
 
 TIi is hill had been used as a sheep pasture for many 
 years. It was a desolate place, devoid of trees, and, 
 full of stones. Looking across this barren waste, Doug- 
 las was soon able to detect the form of a woman sil- 
 
120 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 houetted against the sky. Yes, she was singing, and he 
 was able to recognise the words: 
 
 1 ' Truer love can never be ; 
 Will ye no come back tome?" 
 
 Joe could now restrain himself no longer. With the 
 cry of ' ' Jean ! Jean ! ' ' he scrambled over the fence, and 
 made straight for the advancing woman. Empty was 
 about to follow, when Douglas laid a firm hand upon 
 his arm and drew him back. 
 
 "Don't go yet/' he ordered. "It's better for us to 
 keep out of sight for a while. Her father can do more 
 than we can, and our presence might frighten her." 
 
 Joe's cry had startled Jean and she stopped singing. 
 Seeing him coming toward her, she stood for a few sec- 
 onds watching him. Then she turned and fled along 
 the path she had recently travelled, and disappeared 
 among the rocks. 
 
 Then it was that Douglas leaped over the fence and 
 hastened forward, with Empty close at his heels. For 
 a few minutes he was guided by Joe 's voice as he called 
 to his daughter. Then all was silent, and though he 
 and Empty searched long and patiently, they could not 
 find the missing ones. 
 
 "Well, I'll be jiggered!" Empty ejaculated, as he sat 
 down upon a rock to rest. "I can't make out what has 
 happened to 'em. Guess it's not much use huntin' any 
 more. We'd better go home now an' git somethin' to 
 eat. I'm most starved." 
 
 Douglas realised that it would be useless to search any 
 longer just then. He would go with Empty, wait at 
 
ASTRAY ON THE HILLS 121 
 
 his place until daybreak, and then return if Joe did 
 not reappear. 
 
 The house to which Empty led him was a humble one. 
 A woman was standing at the door as they approached. 
 
 "Where's Jean?" she enquired. 
 
 "Don't know," Empty replied. "She's out on the 
 hills somewheres." 
 
 "What, ye didn't leave the poor girl there all alone, 
 did ye?" 
 
 "Oh, her dad's with her, an' I guess he'll round her 
 up all right. I'm most starved, ma. Got anything 
 good?" 
 
 Mrs. Dempster was a bright, active, talkative lit- 
 tle body, and she bade Douglas a hearty welcome. 
 
 "So ye'r the great wrestler, are ye?" she asked, as 
 she offered her visitor a chair, and then hustled about 
 to get some food. "Empty has told me all about ye, 
 an' how ye defended him aginst Jake. It was mighty 
 good of ye, an' sez I to Empty, sez I, 'bring that man 
 home with ye some time, so I kin thank him fer his 
 kindness to a poor fatherless boy.' " 
 
 "I didn't do much, I assure you," Douglas replied. 
 "I don't believe Jake would have hurt him." 
 
 "No, Jake wouldn't really mean to hurt him, that's 
 true. But ye see, he's so big an' strong that what he 
 might think was a little love tap alongside of the head 
 would knock an ox down. He doesn't intend to hurt. 
 But when Si Stubbles hits, he means it, an' so does 
 Ben. My, I'm mighty glad ye did up that skunk to- 
 night. He deserved it all right." 
 
 "So you've heard about that already?" Douglas 
 asked in surprise. 
 
 Mrs. Dempster poured a cup of hot tea, brought forth 
 
122 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 a plate of frosted doughnuts, and bade Douglas "draw 
 up an* have a bite." When her visitor had been served, 
 she sat down on a chair by the side of the table. 
 
 "Ye seem surprised that I know about that racket 
 at the hall," she began. "Empty was watchin' at the 
 door, an' saw it all. He was hustlin' home by the 
 short-cut across the hills to tell me the news when he 
 heard Jean singin\ Say, I admire ye'r pluck. But ye 
 must be keerful, sir." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " It 's always necessary to be keerful when ye 'r dealin ' 
 with skunks. Ye jist never know what they're goin' 
 to do next. ' ' 
 
 1 | But why do the people put up with such creatures 1 ' ' 
 Douglas laughingly enquired. 
 
 "Because they can't get rid of 'em, that's why. Me 
 an' Empty have always stood on our indignity, an' it's 
 a mighty good stool to stand on. We don't have to de- 
 pend on the Stubbles fer a livin'. We have our little 
 farm, our cow, pig, an' hens. Empty ketches enough 
 fish to do us, an' he always gits a deer or two in the 
 fall, an' that is all the meat we want. We pick an* 
 sell a good many berries, an' what eggs an' butter we 
 kin spare. Mark my words, there's somethin' wrong 
 with a place when all the people have to bow down to 
 any one man, 'specially when it 's a critter like Si Stub- 
 bles. I git terribly irrigated when I think of the way 
 that man is allowed to rule this parish." 
 
 "He rules in Church matters, too, I understand," 
 Douglas remarked. 
 
 "Ye've hit the nail right on the head, sir. It was 
 him that druv our last two parsons out of the parish 
 an' almost out of their minds, too." 
 
ASTRAY ON THE HILLS 123 
 
 "Did all side with Mr. Stubbles ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not all. There were a few who stood at his 
 back, sich as the Bentons, an' me an' Empty. Nellie 
 Strong, God bless her, an' Nan, her sister, didn't go 
 agin 'em, but they were in a difficult persition with that 
 cranky father of theirs." 
 
 "Would Church matters have gone on smoothly but 
 for the Stubbles?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "They always did before Si an' his brood came to 
 this place. Even supposin' the parsons weren't up to 
 the mark, we would have got along all right. Country 
 people, as a rule, are not hard to please, an' will put 
 up with most anythin'." 
 
 There were many questions Douglas wished to ask this 
 entertaining woman, but just then a noise was heard 
 outside, and at once the door was pushed open and the 
 shoe-maker entered. His hat was gone, his clothes were 
 torn, and his hands and face were bleeding. He stood 
 near the door trembling in every limb, and looking ap- 
 pealingly into the faces of those before him. 
 
 "Fer the love of heavens, Joe! what's the matter 
 with ye?" Mrs. Dempster exclaimed, as she rose to her 
 feet and gave the old man her chair. "Have ye been 
 fightin'?" 
 
 Joe's lips moved, but a groan was the only sound 
 he uttered, as he crouched there, the picture of abject 
 misery. 
 
 "Where's Jean?" Mrs. Dempster demanded, laying 
 her right hand kindly upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Gone! Gone!" was the low despairing reply. 
 
 "Couldn't ye find her?" 
 
 "See," and the old man pointed to his torn clothes 
 and bleeding hands. "I followed her over the rocks 
 
124 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 and through the bushes. I was too slow and fell so 
 often that she got away. Oh, my Jean, my little lass! 
 She doesn't know her father any more; she wouldn't 
 listen to his voice calling to her." 
 
 "You poor man," and Mrs. Dempster wiped her eyes 
 with the corner of her apron. "You are tired out, and 
 must have a cup of tea an* somethin' to eat. Then 
 you must go right home an' git some rest. Me an' 
 Empty will find Jean as soon as it gits light. The 
 dear child, she used to come here so often, an' her an' 
 Empty were great playmates." 
 
 The rest and the food strengthened the weary man, 
 and Mrs. Dempster's hearty manner cheered him. When 
 he at length arose to go, Douglas offered to accompany 
 him, and together the two passed out into the morning 
 air. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT 
 
 THE shoe-maker was very tired, and he leaned 
 heavily on the arm of his companion all the way 
 up the road. He did not speak, and Douglas made no 
 effort to start a conversation. Reaching home, Joe 
 opened the door of his shop and entered. Douglas was 
 about to bid him good-bye when the old man asked him 
 to come in for a few minutes. Lighting a candle, Joe 
 held it carefully before the picture of the Good Shep- 
 herd. 
 
 "I'm puzzled to-night," he began. "I never thought 
 of it before." 
 
 "What is it?" Douglas questioned. 
 
 "You see that lamb?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It's in danger, isn't it?" 
 
 "It certainly is." 
 
 "And it wants to be helped, and saved? See how 
 its head is raised, and it seems so glad that the Shep- 
 herd has come to rescue it." 
 
 "Is there anything puzzling about that?" 
 
 "Ah, but suppose that lamb didn't want to be helped, 
 and held back, no matter how hard the Shepherd 
 pleaded, what then?" 
 
 "He was strong enough to lift it up bodily and carry 
 it back to the fold, was He not?" 
 
 125 
 
126 THE UNKNOWN WHESTLER 
 
 "Ay, ay, I have no doubt about His strength. But 
 I don't believe He would have done it. He would not 
 have saved it against its will. He didn't want a re- 
 bellious lamb in His fold." 
 
 Joe lowered the candle and placed it upon a shelf. 
 Then he looked intently into his companion's face. 
 
 "Jean doesn't want to come back," he whispered. 
 "She's not like that lamb," and he jerked his thumb 
 toward the picture. 
 
 "Perhaps she will change her mind," Douglas sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "Do you think so?" was the eager question. 
 
 "Let us hope so, at any rate. But, come, you are 
 worn out, and must get some sleep. Trust your trouble 
 to the Good Shepherd. He will find some way to bring 
 back your wandering lamb." 
 
 Douglas walked swiftly home, and obtained a little 
 sleep before the work of the day began. 
 
 "Ye should have stayed in bed longer," Jake greeted, 
 as he joined him at the barn. 
 
 "That's not my habit when there's work to be done," 
 Douglas replied. 
 
 "But ye did an extry piece of work last night, 
 though. Great punkins! how I'd like to 'ave been 
 there." 
 
 "So you have heard about it already, eh?" 
 
 "Sure; couldn't keep a thing like that a secret fer 
 two hours in this place. Sandy Morgan, on his way 
 to the wharf, stopped to tell me about it. Ho, ho, it 
 was great." 
 
 Jake continued his milking, and when he was through, 
 he came to where Douglas was sitting. 
 
NOTICE TO QUIT 127 
 
 "I've been thinkinV , he began, "an* feel a bit un- 
 easy about ye." 
 
 1 ' In what way 1 ' ' Douglas questioned, looking up from 
 his milking. 
 
 "I'm uneasy about what Si will do. He'll hear only 
 one side of the story from Ben an' the gals, an' they'll 
 paint it as black as they kin, mark my word." 
 
 "I'm not afraid of the whole gang," Douglas re- 
 plied. "What can they do to me?" 
 
 "I don't know," and Jake scratched his head in per- 
 plexity. "But I advise ye to be keerful. Si's an ugly 
 brute when he gits his dander up, an' it's ginerally up 
 most of the time." 
 
 Douglas was not left long in doubt as to what action 
 Simon Stubbles would take. He was working with 
 Jake that morning in the field back of the barn when 
 a man approached. He carried a letter which he at 
 once handed to Douglas. 
 
 "The boss wants an answer," he informed him. 
 "He's in a big hurry about it, too." 
 
 Opening the letter, Douglas read the brief note, and 
 as he did so an amused expression overspread his face. 
 He studied it carefully for a few minutes without mak- 
 ing any comment. Shoving it into his pocket, he was 
 about to resume his work when the messenger stopped 
 1 him. 
 
 "I want ye'r answer," he said. 
 
 "Tell your master that I shall answer him the first 
 time I meet him," Douglas replied. 
 
 "But Si will give me hell if I don't take more than 
 that," the man whined. "He told me to bring him a 
 'yes' or a 'no'." 
 
 "I can't help that. If you're willing to allow Si 
 
128 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Stubbles to treat you like a dog, you must put up with 
 the consequences." 
 
 Douglas stood and watched the messenger as he 
 slowly ambled back across the field. 
 
 "Poor wretch," he remarked, "he is afraid to go 
 back to his master. Who is he, anyway?" 
 
 "Oh, he's only Barney Tompkins," Jake replied. 
 "He's a useless feller, with a big family. He does odd 
 jobs fer Si, runnin' errands, sweepin' the store, an' sich 
 like. He's got no spunk." 
 
 "Like many more in this parish, if I'm not mistaken. 
 Si doesn't want any one here who shows the least sign 
 of spunk. He's given me notice to quit already." 
 
 "Great punkins! ye don't say so!" 
 
 "Yes, listen to this," and Douglas drew forth the 
 letter from his pocket and began to read: 
 
 "John Handyman, 
 
 Sir : — You have made yourself very objectionable 
 in this place, so your presence is not wanted here any 
 longer. I, therefore, give you notice to quit at once. 
 This is a fair warning, and, unless you are altogether 
 a fool, you will heed it. 
 
 "Simon Stubbles." 
 
 It took Jake a few seconds to grasp the full purport 
 of these words. When he did at last comprehend their 
 meaning, his face darkened and he stepped over to where 
 Douglas was standing. 
 
 "Did Si Stubbles write them words?" he demanded. 
 
 "Yes, look for yourself," and Douglas handed him 
 the letter. 
 
NOTICE TO QUIT 129" 
 
 Slowly and with difficulty Jake read it through. Doug- 
 las watched him with considerable interest. 
 
 * * Well, what do you think of it ? " he asked. ' ' Are you 
 not afraid of losing your help?" 
 
 "Damn Si Stubbles !" Jake roared. It was only when 
 wrought up to the highest pitch of fury that Jake swore, 
 and then it was well for his enemies to beware of him. 
 "No, I'm not afraid of losin' ye, an' Si Stubbles ain't 
 the man wot kin drive ye away, either. You jist stay 
 where ye are." 
 
 "I intend to," Douglas calmly replied. "But let us 
 get on with our work." 
 
 Though outwardly calm, the letter he had received 
 rankled in his heart. The idea that one man could rule 
 a whole community was abhorrent and unnatural. He 
 had no intention of leaving, and he was determined to 
 meet Simon Stubbles and have it out with him face to 
 face. Suppose he should be driven from the parish, how 
 could he ever come back again? How could he return 
 as rector to be the contempt and laughing-stock of all? 
 No, he would oppose Stubbles to the bitter end. The 
 worst they could do would be to kill him, and he was not 
 afraid to die if necessary. 
 
 It was near evening and they were hauling in the last 
 load of hay from the field near the road, when an auto, 
 bearing several men, sped past. 
 
 "It's Ben bringin' the delegation from the station,"! 
 Jake explained, as he watched the rapidly disappearing 
 car. 
 
 "What delegation?" Douglas queried. 
 
 "Why, didn't I tell ye?" Jake asked in surprise. 
 "Well, I clean f ergot all about it. There's to be a 
 
130 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 big Church meetin' to-night in the hall. Si got word 
 an* he sent notice all around.' ' 
 
 "What is the meeting about?" Douglas enquired. 
 
 "It has something to do with the new parson who is 
 coming so I understand." 
 
 "So you are to get another clergyman, are you?" 
 Douglas asked as indifferently as possible. 
 
 "Seems so. The Bishop has a man all ready, who 
 will be here in a few weeks. I pity the poor feller, I 
 really do, though I can't say I'm much set on parsons 
 6ince our experience with the last ones." 
 
 "You think he will have a hard time of it, eh?" 
 
 "He's sure to, an' unless he's somethin' out of the 
 ordinary, he'll be in the same fix as the others. He'll 
 be bound to buck up agin Si sooner or later, an* then 
 there'll be trouble." 
 
 Douglas was greatly interested in what he had just 
 heard, and he made up his mind to attend the meeting, 
 tired though he was. He wished to hear and see for 
 himself and not depend upon second-hand information. 
 The meeting was to be public, so he had a perfect right 
 to go. 
 
 When the chores were finished, he picked up the pa- 
 per which had arrived that day from the city. He 
 knew that the meeting would not begin for some time, 
 and the rest would do him good. He glanced first at 
 the big headlines until he reached one which arrested 
 his attention. 
 
 "A Well Merited Honor; 
 
 Dr. Rannage, Rector op 
 
 St. Margaret's Church of This City, 
 
 Appointed Archdeacon by his Bishop." 
 
NOTICE TO QUIT 131 
 
 Douglas studied these words very carefully, and then 
 read the long account of the new archdeacon's life, and 
 of the work he had accomplished at St. Margaret's! 
 The article was most laudatory, and spoke of his ability 
 as a preacher, an organiser, and a public-spirited citi- 
 zen. It referred to Dr. Rannage as a hard worker, who 
 visited his people, rich and poor, in season and out of 
 season, doing all he could for their temporal and spirit- 
 ual welfare. 
 
 With an exclamation of impatience and disgust, 
 Douglas threw aside the paper and left the house. He 
 knew that most of the statements contained in what he 
 had just read were false. The honor was not " well- 
 merited,' ' but had been bestowed simply because Dr. 
 Rannage was rector of St. Margaret's and a special 
 friend of the Bishop. He smiled at the thought of his 
 visiting "his people, rich and poor alike, in season and 
 out of season. ' ' He knew for a certainty that Dr. Ran- 
 nage called only upon a few of the influential mem- 
 bers of his flock, and left his curate to look after the 
 "temporal and spiritual welfare" of all the rest. He 
 tried to picture Dr. Rannage in such a parish as Rix- 
 ton, living on a small salary, and trying to keep the 
 Church life strong and healthy, at the same time com- 
 bating the opposing influence of the Stubbles. And 
 suppose he succeeded, by doing an herculean work, 
 would he be rewarded in the same manner as if he 
 were rector of St. Margaret's? He smiled grimly at 
 the mere suggestion of the idea. Whoever heard of a 
 poor country parson being singled out for such an 
 honor, no matter how much he might merit it? 
 
 Douglas was walking slowly down the road as he 
 thought over these things. Several people drove past 
 
132 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 on their way to the hall, and he saw a number of mon 
 walking on ahead. The sun was just lingering on the 
 far-off horizon, and he was quite sure the meeting would 
 not begin for half an hour at least. The delegates had 
 not gone by yet, and so it was not necessary for him 
 to hurry. 
 
 Coming to the road leading to Mrs. Dempster's, he 
 looked at the little house over in the field, and won- 
 dered if Jean had been found. His notice to quit, the 
 news of the Church meeting, and the announcement 
 of Dr. Rannage's elevation had so occupied his atten- 
 tion that he had little time to think over the events 
 of the past night. But now he thought of the heart- 
 broken shoemaker, and a desire came upon him to know 
 if anything had been heard of the wayward daughter. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SETTLING THINGS 
 
 THE hall at the Corner presented a far different 
 appearance from the previous evening 1 . There 
 was a large attendance, for much interest was aroused 
 over the announcement that a new clergyman was to 
 come to the parish. As Douglas slipped into a back 
 seat with several others who were somewhat late, he 
 glanced toward the platform, and great was his aston- 
 ishment to see Dr. Rannage, the new archdeacon, sit- 
 ting there. A sudden fear seized him that he might 
 be recognised, and his plans spoiled. He was glad that 
 he was so far back where the light was dim, and that 
 he would hardly be noticed from the platform. 
 
 Simon Stubbles was chairman, and he had called the 
 meeting to order before Douglas arrived. He was mak- 
 ing a few opening remarks, and was in an excellent 
 frame of mind, and inclined to be somewhat jocular. 
 He realised the importance of having an archdeacon 
 present, and referred to it several times. To Douglas, 
 he seemed most ridiculous as he stood there endeavour- 
 ing to be as pompous as possible that all might be 
 properly impressed. 
 
 "I have been greatly concerned about the spiritual 
 welfare of this parish/ ' he was saying. "It is really 
 a disaster that we have had no rector for a long time. 
 It is, therefore, with great satisfaction that news has 
 
 133 
 
134 TIIE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 reached us that the Bishop is to send us a clergyman 
 in a few weeks. "We all trust that he will be a suitable 
 man and fall into the ways of the people here. So much 
 depends upon that, and I feel sure that the Bishop has 
 had an eye to our needs. He knows this parish, and in 
 the goodness of his heart he has sent this notable dele- 
 gation to meet us and discuss Church affairs. It is 
 not the first time that I have had the pleasure of meet- 
 ing Dr. Rannage, who has recently been honored, and 
 rightly so, by the Bishop. I know you are eagerly wait- 
 ing to hear what he has to say about the parson who 
 is coming to us. I have much pleasure in introducing 
 to you the first speaker of the evening, the Venerable 
 Archdeacon Rannage of St. Margaret's Church." 
 
 Dr. Rannage rose slowly to his feet and stood before 
 the assembled people. Physically, he was an impressive 
 looking man, especially so with his long black clerical 
 coat, and official gaiters. If only a different head 
 adorned his well-built body, everything would have been 
 in proportion. But as Douglas studied him, he noted 
 what a weak chin he possessed, how the bump of con- 
 ceit was largely developed, and how low and receding 
 his forehead, over which a thin crop of hair was care- 
 fully parted in the middle. But he had the gift of 
 speech, and if he merely said "Two and two are four" 
 it was uttered in such a manner as to seem like a great 
 piece of news, and made people wonder at the knowl- 
 edge of the man. 
 
 "Dear friends," he began, looking impressively 
 around the hall, "I feel that I am no stranger to most 
 of you here. Some of you, no doubt, have been at St. 
 Margaret's, and have seen or met me there. But if 
 not, I feel that we are now well acquainted after your 
 
SETTLING THINGS 135 
 
 worthy chairman's introductory remarks. And let me 
 say ere I go further, how gratified I am to have Mr. 
 Stubbles here to-night, and to find him so interested in 
 the affairs of the Church in this parish. It is so en- 
 couraging to meet a man of Mr. Stubbles' ability and 
 influence ready and willing to abandon for a time his 
 heavy business cares, and devote himself so heartily 
 to the welfare of the community in which he is living. 
 If all will follow his excellent example, I feel quite 
 confident that the Church work in this parish will be 
 greatly blest. 
 
 "Before I give you my brief message to-night, per- 
 mit me to say that I wish this meeting to be very in- 
 formal. Do not mind stopping me to ask any question 
 which may occur to you, for in that way we shall be 
 able to understand one another better." 
 
 Here Dr. Rannage paused, and slowly lifted a glass 
 of water to his lips, after which he produced a large 
 silk handkerchief and deliberately wiped his mouth. 
 When the handkerchief had been carefully stowed away 
 in the tail of his long coat, he once more looked over 
 the audience. 
 
 "We bear to-night a message from your Bishop," he 
 continued. " 'In the goodness of his heart,' as your 
 chairman so neatly put it, he thought it good to send 
 us here that we might meet with you, and discuss pa- 
 rochial affairs. He has already chosen a man well- 
 fitted, we all believe, for the work here." 
 
 "When will he come?" some one asked. 
 
 "That I cannot definitely say. He has been working 
 hard for the last two years, and is now taking his vaca- 
 tion. Tii i few weeks, I trust, he will be with you." 
 
 "Is he married?" came the question from the right. 
 
136 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "No. He has been so devoted to his work that he 
 lias not given much thought to matrimony, so far as I 
 know. But if all the maidens in this parish are as 
 captivating as the two I met this afternoon at The Cas- 
 tle' ' (here he turned and bowed to the chairman) "he 
 will find it difficult to choose who is the fairest, if he 
 should decide to take to himself a wife." 
 
 Douglas almost emitted an audible groan at the 
 thought of the "two captivating maidens at The Cas- 
 tle." A mental picture rose before him of their thin 
 faces, turned-up noses, and prominent teeth, with their 
 sharp sarcastic tongues as an additional horror. 
 
 "It's lucky he's not married," the man who asked 
 the last question remarked. 
 
 "Why?" Dr. Rannage quickly challenged. "Have 
 you a daughter of your own to enter the contest?" 
 
 "No sir-ree," was the emphatic reply, when the 
 laughter which followed the archdeacon's sally had sub- 
 sided. "I've got all boys, thank goodness, an' am not 
 interested that way. But as the new parson is not 
 married, we won't have to bother fixin' up the rectory. 
 It's in a bad shape now, an' it will take a lot to have 
 it repaired." 
 
 "The rectory is certainly in a disgraceful condition," 
 Dr. Rannage assented, "as I saw myself this afternoon. 
 Now, I wish to appeal to all here to get it repaired as 
 I soon as possible. The longer it is neglected, the more 
 expensive it will be, and your new rector may wish 
 to live in it and have a suitable housekeeper to look 
 after his welfare." 
 
 "Let him board," some one suggested. "That'll be 
 tiie best way, an* we can fix up the rectory when he 
 
SETTLING THINGS 137 
 
 wants to get married. If he takes all right here, there'll 
 be no trouble about raisin ' the money." 
 
 "Now since you have mentioned money," Dr. Ran- 
 nage smilingly replied, "it is just as well to consider 
 that important matter first as last. You are all aware 
 that this parish is asked to make up a certain amount 
 toward your clergyman's salary, and the Board of Mis- 
 sions will pay the balance. Do you remember how much 
 you raised in the past?" he asked, turning to the chair- 
 man. 
 
 "Four hundred dollars," Stubbles replied. "But it 
 was too much. This is a poor parish, sir, and I told 
 the Bishop so the last time I saw him." 
 
 "Well, he asked me to find out if you would en- 
 deavour to raise that amount, and perhaps a little 
 more. It always pleases him so much when he finds 
 that people are trying to take the burden off the city 
 churches and becoming more and more self-supporting. 
 Now, do you not think you could raise four hundred 
 and fifty dollars for the first year?" 
 
 "A great deal depends upon the new parson," Stub- 
 bles emphatically replied. "If he takes well there will 
 be little trouble, but if not, we might as well give up 
 at once. We know that from bitter experience in the 
 past." 
 
 "Hear, hear," several called out. "You're right, 
 sir." 
 
 "Is the new man a good speaker?" came the query. 
 "Much hangs on that." 
 
 Douglas leaned suddenly forward now, and awaited 
 the answer with considerable interest. He noted that 
 Dr. Rannage hesitated and seemed to be groping for a 
 
138 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 suitable reply. That in itself was ominous and affected 
 the gathering. 
 
 "You see," he began, "I have had little opportunity 
 of hearing this young man. Although he has been my 
 curate for the past two years, he has spoken but a few 
 times at St. Margaret 's. The people there are extremely 
 particular and decidedly intellectual, and so prefer to 
 listen to their rector." 
 
 It was with considerable difficulty that Douglas re- 
 pressed a chuckle at these words. He knew very well 
 how jealous Dr. Rannage was of his own ability as a 
 speaker, and he had always taken it for granted that 
 the members of St. Margaret's would rather hear him 
 than any one else, especially a curate. He knew some- 
 thing, too, about his views of country people, as he 
 had heard him speak about them in no flattering man- 
 ner on several occasions. To him they were a heavy, 
 ignorant lot, unrefined, and only a step removed from 
 the beasts of the field. He had expected at the outset 
 of his address that he would say something which would 
 arouse the anger of the people of Rixton, and so was 
 not surprised at his tactless remarks. He noted the 
 feeling of indignation which was pervading the room, 
 and the whispered conversations which were going on. 
 
 "So the new parson was pitched out of St. Mar- 
 garet's, was he?" a man questioned. 
 
 "Oh, no, not 'pitched out,' " Dr. Rannage explained. 
 "He left of his own accord." 
 
 "Why?" the same voice asked. "Couldn't he stand 
 up to the job?" 
 
 "Not exactly. He was a hard worker, but he found 
 it almost impossible to understand the ways, ah, how 
 shall I put it ? of refined society. That is, he could not 
 
SETTLING THINGS 139 
 
 mingle freely with the social element which is so promi- 
 nent at St. Margaret's. He preferred the lower life, 
 such as is found along the water-front, and in the poorer 
 sections of the city. He was more at home there. ' ' 
 
 "I am afraid, sir, that the new parson will not suit 
 here," the chairman announced. "According to your 
 words, he is not a gentleman, and does not understand 
 the ways of polite society. Now, we want a man all 
 can respect, who understands his people, and yet who 
 has the true ring of a natural born gentleman. " 
 
 "Who is he, anyway?" a man asked. "Where did 
 he come from?" 
 
 "He was brought up on a farm, and worked his way 
 through college," Dr. Rannage explained. "He under- 
 stands country ways and should suit very nicely here." 
 
 "Why don't ye say 'the bush'?" Bill Simmonds 
 shouted. "Anything will suit us here." 
 
 The laugh which followed this remark annoyed Dr. 
 Rannage. 
 
 "I am almost inclined to believe you are right," he 
 angrily retorted. 
 
 "Ye believe it already, an* we know it." 
 
 "Order!" the chairman sternly demanded. "Bill 
 Simmonds, you had better leave the hall, if you can't 
 behave yourself." 
 
 "All right, sir," Bill acquiesced, as he threw a wink 
 to a man across the aisle and settled back in his seat. 
 "I've got nuthin' more to say." 
 
 Dr. Rannage was evidently embarrassed. He mopped 
 'ace with his handkerchief, and took another drink 
 of water. 
 
 "I think I have explained matters quite fully," he 
 at last continued, "and perhaps my companions here 
 
140 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 would like to say something. I trust, however, that you 
 will give your new clergyman a fair trial, and do every- 
 thing in your power to help him." 
 
 " What's his name?" Tom Stephens asked. "You 
 have never mentioned that." 
 
 "It is Douglas Stanton. He comes from a good old 
 family, so I understand, and his grandfather held an 
 important government position in this province." 
 
 Dr. Rannage's companions had very little to say. 
 They were business men, so they said, and unaccus- 
 tomed to public speaking. Each made an appeal to the 
 people to support the new clergyman, to repair the 
 rectory, and to give more liberally toward the support 
 of the Church in their parish. They were given an 
 attentive hearing, and when they were through, the 
 chairman brought the meeting to a sudden close. Just 
 why he did so Douglas could not understand. Stub- 
 bles ' manner had greatly changed since his opening 
 remarks and he seemed to be annoyed and irritable. 
 
 Douglas was the first to leave the building, and he 
 stood outside in the shadow of the hall hoping to get a 
 word with Stubbles. As the people passed him, he over- 
 heard some of their remarks which were by no means 
 complimentary. 
 
 "He made a mess of it, he surely did," a man was 
 saying. "What does he know about the country?" 
 
 "Nuthin'," his companion replied. "What were 
 them funny things he wore on his legs? I would like 
 to see him out in the " 
 
 Douglas could not hear his closing words. But the 
 comments of others were of a similar nature, and he 
 realised that Dr. Rannage had not smoothed the way 
 for his coming to the parish as rector. 
 
SETTLING THINGS 141 
 
 Last of all came the delegates, talking earnestly with 
 one another. He could not hear what they were say- 
 ing, but judging from the tone of their voices, they 
 were not at all satisfied at the outcome of the meeting. 
 
 Simon Stubbles walked behind. He was limping and 
 carried a cane in his hand. His head was bent, and his 
 face was turned to the ground as if in deep thought. 
 Douglas at once stepped forward and touched him on 
 the arm. Stubbles gave a sudden start and looked 
 quickly around. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, is it?" he gasped. He did not alto- 
 gether relish the idea of meeting the man he had ordered 
 from the parish. 
 
 "Yes, that's who it is," Douglas replied. "I want 
 to have a word with you." 
 
 "Didn't you receive my message?" Stubbles asked. 
 
 "I did, and I want an explanation." 
 
 "There's nothing to explain. You have made your- 
 self very obnoxious here, and you must get out." 
 
 "And suppose I do not obey?" 
 
 "Then you will have to put up with the conse- 
 quences. ' ' 
 
 "That is a pretty serious threat. This is a free 
 country, and if anything should happen to me, what 
 then? You might find yourself in an awkward posi- 
 tion." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not worrying about that. All I ask you 
 to do is to leave this place at once. You've had fair 
 warning, and I haven't time to argue with you any 
 longer. ' ' 
 
 nobles was about to move forward, when Douglas 
 blocked his way. 
 
 "Just stay where you are," the latter ordered. "If 
 
142 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 you make any outcry, you'll regret it. But I won't 
 hurt you if you keep quiet. Now listen to me, Simon 
 Stubbles. You have lorded it over the people in this 
 parish too long for their welfare. It is through you 
 that the Church life is dormant here, and no clergyman 
 can stay for any length of time. You know this to be 
 true, notwithstanding j^our canting words in the hall 
 to-night. I am not afraid of you, and I shall remain 
 in this parish as long as I please. If you interfere with 
 me in any way it will be at your own peril. I have 
 given you timely warning, and you may go." 
 
 Simon Stubbles listened to these plain words in 
 amazement. He had never been thus spoken to before, 
 and his anger was intense. He began to stamp, rage 
 and denounce the man who dared to speak to him in 
 such an audacious manner. He attracted the atten- 
 tion of those waiting for him in the car some distance 
 off. Seeing that two men were approaching to learu 
 what was the matter, Douglas leaped aside and dis- 
 appeared among the trees surrounding the halL 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 A WET DAY 
 
 DOUGLAS was very tired and slept soundly that 
 night. When he awoke next morning the rain 
 was beating down upon the roof over his head. It 
 sounded like music to his ears, for it would mean rest 
 that day from the toil of the field. There were several 
 things he wished to do, and the rain was just what he 
 needed. There would be no work in the field, so he 
 would be free to go where he wished. 
 
 Jake had been at the meeting the night before and 
 was very talkative. 
 
 "What happened to ye when the meetin' was over?'* 
 he enquired, as they sat down to breakfast. 
 
 "Oh, I waited around a while to watch the speakers 
 and the chairman/ ' Douglas replied. 
 
 "Did ye ever see a real live archdeacon before?" 
 
 "Yes, I have seen several.* ' 
 
 "Ye don't tell! Well, that was the first one I ever 
 sot me eyes on one. But, say, what was them things he 
 had on his legs?" 
 
 "Gaiters, I think they are called." 
 
 " H 'm, the same as the Bishop wears, eh ? But what 
 are they good fer?" 
 
 1 ' They are a sign of his position, I suppose. I really 
 know nothing more about the matter than you do." 
 
 143 
 
144 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "But what's the good of archdeacons, anyway? If 
 they're all like the one we saw last night, I wouldn't 
 give much fer the hull hunch." 
 
 "They are supposed to help the Bishop, so I under- 
 stand." 
 
 "Help him, eh? Well, I guess that feller didn't help 
 much in settlin' matters in this parish. Why, he made 
 a mess of the hull affair." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "Why, don't ye rememher how riled he got when he 
 was asked questions? He put his foot in it, too, when 
 he said that a parson would do fer Rixton who iiad 
 been kicked out of St. Margaret's in the city." 
 
 "He didn't really say that." 
 
 "No, not exactly in them words, hut that was what 
 he meant, an' we all took it that way." 
 
 "So you think that the archdeacon made it all the 
 harder for the new clergyman hy what he said last 
 night, do you?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Sure," Jake replied, as he helped himself to an- 
 other pancake. "Didn't ye notice the feelin' in the 
 meet in', an' how Si changed? Why, he looked jist like 
 a thunder cloud ahout to oust. I sartinly do pity the 
 new parson. He's goin' to have a hard time of it, mark 
 my word." 
 
 1 ' I had a little talk with Stuhbles after the meeting, ' ' 
 Douglas quietly remarked. 
 
 "Ye did, eh?" and Jake's eyes glowed with interest. 
 "Was he surprised to see ye?" 
 
 "I believe so. He thought I was going to knock him 
 down, and he raved like a madman. But I told him a 
 few straight facts which he is not likely to forget." 
 
 "Ye did, eh? Bully fer you! But he careful, John. 
 
A WET DAY 145 
 
 Si won't fergit anything, an' he'll come back at ye 
 when ye'r least expectin' him." 
 
 "I told him that I am going to stay right in the 
 parish, and that he couldn't drive me out." 
 
 "Good for you!" Mrs. Jukes exclaimed. "I like 
 to hear a man talk that way. If the rest in Eixton 
 would do the same Si would be taught a lesson in a[ 
 short time. But they all lie down and let him walk 
 over them." 
 
 "Ye'r always say in' that, Susie," Jake chided. "Ye 
 ought to know by this time what a grip Si has on every- 
 thing in this parish." 
 
 "Well, it's about time, then, that he lost his grip. 
 If there was only some one with any backbone who 
 would go ahead, the rest would follow all right. People 
 are getting sick and tired of the Stubbles' rule." 
 
 ''Maybe the new parson 'U be that kind of a man," 
 Jake suggested. " 'Spose we wait till he comes." 
 
 "H'm," and Mrs. Jukes tossed her head, "a great 
 chance he'll have to go ahead with everybody willing 
 to crawl before Si Stubbles and lick his boots. Why, 
 just as soon as Si snaps his finger all the men dance 
 attendance, and you know it, Jake Jukes. You do the 
 same yourself." 
 
 "But maybe the new parson might be able to do 
 something," Jake replied, as he mopped his forehead 
 with a big red handkerchief. He was feeling very hot 
 and uncomfortable before his wife's attack. 
 
 "He'll be very different, then, from the last two we 
 had," Mrs. Jukes retorted. "I'm not expecting much 
 from him, judging from the past." 
 
 Douglas was considerably amused at this conversa- 
 tion. He wondered what Jake and his wife would say- 
 
H6 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 if they were suddenly told that the "new parson ,T was 
 before them. He was finding the part he was playing 
 more interesting every day. How it would end, and 
 how he would explain matters, he had not the least 
 idea. He did not worry, however, leaving the future 
 to take care of itself. 
 
 That afternoon Douglas paid a visit to Mrs. Demp- 
 ster. He wished to find out for himself how Jean was 
 getting along, and also to listen to the widow, for he 
 enjoyed hearing her talk, and her comments upon par- 
 ish affairs. 
 
 Mrs. Dempster was cooking in the kitchen, and Jean 
 was lying on a sofa near the stove, to all appearance 
 asleep. 
 
 "It's right glad I am to see ye," and Mrs. Dempster 
 placed a chair for her visitor as she spoke. "It's a 
 dull day and not many people stirrin'. Empty's gone 
 to his nets, so me an' Jean have been havin' a quiet 
 time all by ourselves." 
 
 "A busy time for you, I see," Douglas replied, glanc- 
 ing toward the table. "Those pies look very tempt- 
 ing." 
 
 "Oh, yes, it makes me hustle all right to fill Empty. 
 I often tell him he's well named, fer I never saw any 
 one who eats as much as he does." 
 
 "All mothers say the same thing, don't they? Grow- 
 ing lads need plenty of food. It's better to pay the 
 grocer than the doctor, isn't it?" 
 
 Mrs. Dempster paused in her work and glanced to- 
 ward the still form on the sofa. 
 
 "I guess she'll need the doctor before long, if I'm 
 not much mistaken," she remarked in a low voice. 
 "Poor child, she's had a hard time of it since she went 
 
A WET DAY 147 
 
 to the city. Who'd a thought that bright an' happy 
 Jean Benton would have come to this?" 
 
 "Is she very sick, do you think ?" Douglas asked as 
 he looked toward the sleeping woman. 
 
 Airs. Dempster did not at once reply. She placed a 
 pie in the oven, and then turned to her visitor. 
 
 "Guess we'd better step outside fer a minute," she 
 suggested. "We kin talk freer in the open air." 
 
 "There, that's better," Mrs. Dempster panted as she 
 closed the door behind her. "Ye kin never tell when 
 sleeping people will wake an' make matters uncomfort- 
 able. Now, look here, sir, I want ye to do me a 
 favour. ' ' 
 
 "All right," Douglas assented. "What is it?" 
 
 "I want ye to ask Nell to come here as soon as she 
 kin. There's somethin' I want to speak to her about. 
 She's the only woman in the place I care to ask. She's 
 got more sense than all the rest put together, which is 
 sayin' a good deal." 
 
 "When do you want her to come?" 
 
 "Oh, to-morrow will do. I don't want her to come 
 over to-night, as it's wet an' the roads are so muddy. 
 Jist tell her to come when she gits time." 
 
 "So you think Jean is sick?" 
 
 "Yes, very. But she'll be sicker before she gits bet- 
 ter, poor dear. But there, I must git back to my work. 
 It was good of ye to come over." 
 
 Douglas was only too glad of an excuse to visit the 
 Strongs. It was dark by the time he reached the house, 
 as he had been delayed owing to the cattle going astray 
 from the pasture. The door was opened by Nan, who 
 gave a cry of delight when she saw Douglas standing 
 before her. 
 
148 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "My, you have been a long time coming to see us 
 again,' ' she chided. "I have been watching for you 
 every day." 
 
 It was a pleasant home-like scene which met Doug- 
 las' eyes as he entered the little sitting-room. The pro- 
 fessor was seated in his big chair by the side of the 
 table. Nell was sitting opposite, peeling and coreing 
 apples. Nan had been reading to her father, and the 
 book was lying open on the table where she had hur- 
 riedly left it upon the arrival of the visitor. Douglas 
 received a cordial welcome from Nell and the professor. 
 
 "I hope I am not interrupting your quietness," he 
 apologised, as he sat down near the old man. 
 
 1 1 1 'm very glad you have interrupted the quietness, ' ' 
 Nan quickly replied. "I'm sick and tired of Shake- 
 speare. He's getting on my nerves." 
 
 "Nan, Nan, you must not talk of the master in that 
 way," her father chided. 
 
 "I thought that you did the reading," Douglas re- 
 marked, turning to Nell. 
 
 "So I do, as a rule," was the smiling reply. "But 
 Nan doesn't like peeling apples, and so she preferred 
 to read." 
 
 "Ugh! apples stain my fingers and make them feel 
 horrid," Nan exclaimed in disgust. "I would rather 
 read anything — even Shakespeare." 
 
 "How is your work getting on, sir?" Douglas en- 
 quired, turning toward the professor. 
 
 "Slowly, very slowly, these days," was the reply. 
 "There are several points I wish to think out care- 
 fully before I put them in writing. But we can talk 
 about such matters again. I am eager now to hear 
 
A WET DAY 149 
 
 about the Church meeting which was held last night. 
 I suppose you were there ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I wished to see and hear the new arch- 
 deacon, Dr. Kannage." 
 
 "What, was he there?" 
 
 "Yes, and two other delegates with him." 
 
 "Tell me about the meeting, please," and the pro- 
 fessor leaned back comfortably in his chair. 
 
 As briefly as possible Douglas narrated the events of 
 the meeting. He glanced occasionally at Nell, and no- 
 ticed that at times she ceased her work to listen. 
 
 "So nothing was accomplished, then?" the professor 
 queried when Douglas finished. 
 
 "Nothing that I could see, except to make it all the 
 harder for the new clergyman who is coming here." 
 
 "Oh, hell find it hard enough, all right, trust Si 
 Stubbles for that. If he 's anything like the last clergy- 
 man we had, he'll soon give in. I'm afraid that he will 
 be a man of straw when it is a man of iron we need." 
 
 Douglas smiled to himself. He was enjoying the 
 various comments he was hearing about himself, and 
 he wondered what the professor and others would think 
 if they knew who he really was. 
 
 "A clergyman is supposed to be a 'steward of the 
 mysteries,' " the old man continued. "Now, when I 
 think of those words, I always picture to myself a 
 mother standing before a cupboard with a bunch of 
 keys in her hand. By her side are several children 
 watching her with intense interest, waiting for her to 
 open the door and bring forth things which are old, 
 such as nicely-frosted doughnuts, and things which are 
 new, such as jelly and pie. That cupboard is a place 
 
150 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 of mystery to the children, and the mother has the key 
 to the treasure: Do you follow me?" 
 
 1 ' Certainly, " Douglas replied. 
 
 "Well, then, that cupboard is the Bible; the clergy- 
 man is the steward who is supposed to have the key, 
 and his people are the children. They are looking to 
 him to bring forth the things new and old for their 
 good. But as far as I can find, he generally brings 
 forth the same old things Sunday after Sunday which 
 have become so stale that people do not care for them." 
 
 "Do all do that?" Douglas asked, mentally going 
 over several of his sermons. 
 
 1 ' Oh, no, not all. But the sermons I have heard since 
 coming to this parish, and others which have been re- 
 ported to me, have been of that kind. There was no 
 life, nothing personal, and not one new and striking 
 thought upon any great subject. They were just the 
 same old platitudes about the Fathers, the doctrine of 
 the Church, the duty of people to attend the services, 
 and to give. There has been no food for longing, hun- 
 gry souls." 
 
 "Such teaching is necessary, is it not?" Douglas 
 queried. 
 
 "I do not deny that at all. But it is poor food to 
 satisfy the soul, especially when it is served at every 
 meal. The trouble is that so many young men leave 
 college with stereotyped ideas. They are parrots and 
 repeat what they have been taught, and nothing else." 
 
 Douglas winced a little at these words, for he knew 
 how well they applied to himself. But he was begin- 
 ning to see life in a new light since he had become 
 plain John Handyman. 
 
 "We need a man who has seen and experienced life," 
 
A WET DAY 151 
 
 the professor continued, "and can convert the great 
 thoughts of the Bible into living food for hungry, 
 troubled and tempted souls. I wish every clergyman 
 would take a page from the life of the little bee. Peo- 
 ple as a rule think that it gets the honey right from the 
 flower. They are mistaken. All it gets is a little sweet 
 water. But it takes that water, retires, adds something 
 to it from itself, and by a process of its own makes 
 it into honey." 
 
 "Isn't that funny!" Nan exclaimed. "Why I al- 
 ways thought the bees carried the honey on their legs 
 and scraped it off when they got home. Didn't you 
 think so, Nell?" 
 
 "I confess I did," was the laughing reply. "It 
 shows us that we have much to learn about the common 
 things around us." 
 
 "Well, what the bee does, so should the teacher of 
 the Word," the professor resumed. "He should go to 
 the Bible as the bee to the flower, and 'read, mark, 
 learn, and inwardly digest.' Thus, through a process 
 of his own, he is to bring forth the real spiritual honey 
 for the benefit of hungry souls." 
 
 "Daddy, let's talk about something else," Nan sug- 
 gested. "I am tired of such deep subjects. I was 
 promised that I could talk to Mr. Handyman the next 
 time he came, and there are so many things I want to 
 ask him." 
 
 Douglas glanced at the clock and was surprised to 
 find that it was nearly nine. He rose at once to his 
 feet. 
 
 "I must go now," he remarked. "It would not do 
 for me to keep you up late." 
 
 "That's always the way," Nan pouted. 
 
152 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Next time I come we shall have a long talk," Doug- 
 las promised. 
 
 Nell showed Douglas to the door. He was glad of 
 this, as it gave him an opportunity to deliver Mrs. 
 Dempster's message. 
 
 "Is Jean very ill?" Nell asked. 
 
 "I am afraid so." 
 
 "Well, I shall go over to-morrow. Poor girl, she 
 has had a hard time of it. Her face was so white at the 
 hall door. She startled me. And, oh, Mr. Handyman, 
 I want to thank you for the stand you took that night." 
 
 "You don't blame me, then?" 
 
 "Blame you! Why, no." 
 
 "I am thankful for that. It shows that all are not 
 against me." 
 
 "Only the Stubbles condemn you. They are very 
 angry." 
 
 Nell paused suddenly, as if in deep thought. 
 
 "Are you going right home?" she presently asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Would you mind taking something for Jake? It 
 is a pick-handle which we brought from the wharf last 
 night in our boat. We often bring things for him 
 and he does the same for us. It is a new one, and he 
 may need it. It is right there on the verandah." 
 
 Douglas found the stick and placed it over his shoul- 
 der, bade Nell good-night, and plunged forth into the 
 darkness. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 TWIN FIRES 
 
 DOUGLAS walked slowly toward the main high- 
 way, lost in thought. He was much interested 
 in the professor's comments about clergymen. He knew 
 it was a good tonic to hear such plain statements. But 
 he thought mostly about Nell. He had watched her 
 during the time he had been at the house and was more 
 deeply impressed than ever. She was so quiet and re- 
 served. She had never seemed so beautiful as she sat 
 by the table with the light from the shaded lamp fall- 
 ing upon her face. He thought about Ben, and a feel- 
 ing of anger smote his heart. What right had such a 
 cad to have any claim over such a woman as that? he 
 asked himself. And how could she see anything in 
 Ben to admire ? Had they met near the old tree since 
 the night of the dance? he wondered. 
 
 Douglas was startled from his musings by a sudden 
 noise to his left. Then, in an instant, the forms of 
 two men hurled themselves upon him. A blow from a; 
 stick grazed his head and made him dizzy for a second. 
 In the twinkling of an eye he realised that this was 
 some of Ben Stubbles' mean, dirty work, and the 
 thought maddened him. With the pick-handle he struck 
 vigorously out, and soon had the satisfaction of know- 
 
 153 
 
154 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 ing that he had settled one of his assailants, by the 
 mournful groans he heard. Only one man was now left 
 to deal with, and it did not take long to disarm him. 
 Seeing that he was alone, with his cudgel knocked spin- 
 ning from his grasp, he started to run away. Douglas, 
 however, sprang after him and managed to seize him by 
 the tail of his coat. To this he held with a bulldog 
 grip while the other struggled frantically to get away. 
 Finding that his efforts were in vain, and that he was 
 in danger of being caught, he slipped out of his coat, 
 leaving it in the hands of his conqueror, and disap- 
 peared in the darkness. 
 
 "Come back and get your coat, ,, Douglas shouted. 
 "You might need it before morning." 
 
 Receiving no answer, he began to grope around for 
 the other assailant. But no sign of him could he find. 
 He had evidently been able to get away, and Douglas 
 was thankful that he had not killed him, no matter how 
 much he deserved it. 
 
 "Well, that was a surprise party," he muttered. 
 "Luckily for me that Nell gave me that pick-handle." 
 Then a sudden thought struck him. Did she suspect 
 anything? Had she heard rumours as to what Ben 
 might do, and so had given him a weapon of defence? 
 He wondered about this the rest of the way home. In 
 fact, it pleased him to feel that Nell was interested in 
 his welfare. 
 
 Having reached his own room, he examined his 
 trophy of victory. It was an old coat, partly covered 
 with mud. He went through the pockets, and what he 
 found in one gave him much satisfaction. It was a 
 piece of paper with a few brief instructions scrawled 
 upon it, as follows: 
 
TWIN FIRES 155 
 
 "Get Keezer and be on hand to-night. Bring your 
 sticks with you. Meet me at the bridge at eight sharp._ 
 Ben." 
 
 Douglas smiled grimly to himself as he read this 
 brief note. He knew now that Ben had been some- 
 where around. No doubt he had been peering through 
 the window and watching him talking to the professor 
 and his daughters. How he longed to get a rap at the 
 cowardly cur. The pick-handle would not be necessary ; 
 oh, no, his fists would be sufficient. But Ben knew 
 enough to keep out of the way and let others do his 
 dirty work. 
 
 Douglas said nothing about the night affair to the 
 Jukes, as he was not in a talkative mood. His head was 
 quite sore where he had been struck, and he wondered 
 about the man who had received the force of the pick- 
 handle. But he could not remain silent long, for Jake 
 was bubbling over with excitement when he returned 
 from the store whither he had gone for a barrel of 
 flour. Dinner was waiting him, and he had no time 
 to speak until he had stabled the horses and washed 
 himself. 
 
 "Say, John," he began as soon as he had taken hig 
 seat at the table, "what were ye up to last night?" 
 
 "So you have been hearing something, have you?" 
 Douglas enquired. 
 
 "Sure I have. Why, the hull place is buzzin' with 
 the news, an' Si's as mad as blazes. Guess he's goin' 
 to have ye arrested right off." 
 
 "Have me arrested!" Douglas exclaimed in surprise. 
 "Why, what for?" 
 
 "Fer waylay in' Billy Keezer an* Tom Oakes last 
 
156 THE UNKNOWN WKESTLER 
 
 night, an' breakin' their heads with a stick. They're 
 all used up, an' Tom swears that you stole his coat." 
 
 Douglas leaned back in his chair and laughed so 
 heartily that Jake and his wife looked at him in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "So Billy and Tom are sick, are they?" he chuckled. 
 "Well, I hope they have learned a lesson and will mind 
 their own affairs after this." 
 
 He then told the story of the fight the night before, 
 and when he had finished he went to his room and 
 brought down the captured coat, and read the note he 
 had found in the pocket. 
 
 "Great punkins!" Jake exclaimed, as he hit the 
 table with his fist and made the dishes rattle. "I'm 
 mighty glad ye've got that letter. It's sure proof that 
 Ben was back of the hull affair. And so ye knocked 
 'em both out with the pick-handle, did ye? Bully fer 
 you ! I wish ye 'd got a tap at Ben while ye was about 
 it." 
 
 "Did you see Billy and Tom?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "No. They're in bed. The doctor's been to see 'em, 
 so I learned." 
 
 "And Si is going to have me arrested, eh?" 
 
 "So I heard. He was rampin' around like a lion." 
 
 "I wish he would," Douglas quietly remarked. "It 
 would clear the air somewhat, and give me a chance 
 to say something. But Si will never come out in the 
 open like that, mark my word. He and Ben are back 
 of that attack last night, if I'm not greatly mistaken, 
 and they would not dare to face an investigation." 
 
 "You're right there," Mrs. Jukes replied. "They'll 
 do nothing now but just wait for another chance. You 
 
TWIN FIRES 157 
 
 had better be careful how you wander around alone at 
 night, especially near the professor's place." 
 
 ' ' Why ? ' ' Douglas asked, noting the twinkle in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ben '11 be getting jealous, that's all. He'll have 
 another grudge against you, if you're not careful." 
 
 Douglas realised that what Mrs. Jukes said was quite 
 true. Ben must have been watching through the win- 
 dow the night he was at the professor's house, and no 
 doubt jealousy had been added to his hatred. But he 
 did not care, for a new feeling had now taken posses- 
 sion of him. His heart burned within him when he 
 thought of Ben meeting Nell and making love to her. 
 He brooded over this all the afternoon as he worked in 
 the field. Nell, with her simplicity and charm of man- 
 ner, was ever before him. He could not get her out of 
 his mind, and at times he found himself looking across 
 the field in the direction of her home. 
 
 Suddenly there came to him the realisation that Nell 
 Strong was the one woman in the whole world he 
 wanted. His heart cried out for her, and the idea of 
 her becoming the wife of Ben Stubbles was almost more 
 than he could endure. For the first time in his life 
 he was in love, and with a beautiful woman, who in 
 some unaccountable manner was bound to a man who 
 was his most bitter enemy. Ben must not have her, 
 he told himself over and over again that afternoon. 
 But what was he to do ? He himself was merely a farm- 
 hand in Nell's eyes, and he had not the least reason to 
 believe that she cared anything for him. Ben, on the 
 other hand, was the son of the most influential man in 
 the parish, and had been making love to her for some 
 time. 
 
158 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Had any one told Douglas a month ago that he would 
 be deep in love after he had been in Rixton a couple 
 of weeks, he would have laughed him to scorn. His 
 idea of wandering from place to place and living just 
 for self had suddenly taken flight. To him life seemed 
 desolate apart from Nell Strong. He could not under- 
 stand the feeling, and he did not try to analyse it. It 
 was something he had never before experienced. He 
 knew that it had come mysteriously and subtly, and 
 was now possessing his entire being. 
 
 Jake noted how absent minded his assistant was 
 that afternoon, and jokingly told him to look out for 
 the constable. 
 
 "He may be along any minute now," he bantered. 
 
 Douglas laughed and went on with his work. He 
 was glad that Jake imagined it was the thought of ar- 
 rest which was occupying his mind. He did not wish 
 any one to have the least idea of the secret thoughts 
 which were agitating his heart. 
 
 After the chores had been done, Douglas strolled 
 down to the shore. He wished to be alone that he 
 might think. It was a beautiful evening, and the river 
 stretched out before him like a great mirror, with not 
 a ripple disturbing its surface. It was a scene of peace, 
 and it brought a quietness to his soul. A swim in a 
 secluded place had refreshed him, and after he had 
 dressed, he sat for a time upon the sandy beach. He 
 looked up and down the shore, but no sign of life 
 could he behold. The only familiar thing he saw was 
 the old tree where he had sat that evening when he had 
 first seen Nell. He wondered if she would be at the 
 same place again this evening, and if Ben would 
 meet her there. He did not relish the idea of spying, 
 
TWIN FIRES 159 
 
 but so much was at stake now, and he must find out 
 if they kept their tryst as formerly. If so, then it 
 would be no use for him to cherish any hope. He 
 might as well banish Nell from his mind first as last. 
 
 Walking slowly along the shore, he at length reached 
 the old tree and sat down upon the ground by its side 
 with his eyes turned upstream. From here he could 
 see all that might take place before him, while he him- 
 self would remain unobserved. 
 
 The sun had now gone down beyond the tree tops, 
 and the shades of night were stealing slowly over land 
 and river. The air was clear, and objects were easily 
 discerned some distance away. Douglas had not sat 
 there more than a quarter of an hour when Nell ap- 
 peared and stopped close to the big tree. She stood 
 quietly there, with her right arm resting upon the bent 
 and twisted trunk. Her eyes were fixed upon the 
 ground, and she seemed to be in deep thought. Doug- 
 las shrank back lest he might be observed. A feeling 
 of compunction smote his heart, and he was tempted 
 to slip away among the bushes. What would Nell think 
 if she knew that he was spying upon her? he asked 
 himself. Would it not be more manly for him to go 
 forward and speak to her? 
 
 As he was thinking of these things, a man suddenly 
 appeared from the thick bushes and advanced toward 
 the waiting woman. That it was Ben, Douglas had 
 not the least doubt, and his heart beat fast as he watched 
 the two standing together. His hands clenched and the 
 blood coursed madly through his veins. So she was 
 expecting Ben, then, he told himself, and no doubt 
 was pleased at his arrival. What use for him to con- 
 sider her any longer? She had given her heart and 
 
160 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 hand to that rascal, so that ended it. Surely she must 
 know that he was a downright villain. Was she play- 
 ing a double game? Why had she told him only last 
 night, standing at the door of her house, that she was 
 glad of the part he had taken at the hall? And yet 
 here she was talking to the very man he had opposed, 
 and perhaps enjoying a lovers' chat. 
 
 Douglas was sorely puzzled. He knew that he should 
 go home, and yet the two standing near the tree fasci- 
 nated him. The man seemed to be doing most of the 
 talking, and Nell was plucking at the bark on the tree 
 with nervous ringers, so Douglas thought. He tried to 
 picture the expression on her face and the look in her 
 eyes. He could not associate Nell with anything that 
 was mean and unwomanly. There must be some reason 
 for her presence there with Ben. The thought gave 
 him some comfort, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 
 He must not judge her too harshly until he knew more. 
 Perhaps she was suffering keenly, and would need his 
 assistance. He felt that she was a woman who would 
 greatly endure and remain silent, even though her 
 heart were breaking. He must stand by and do what 
 he could to help her. Even though she might never be 
 his, yet he would be her friend to the last if she would 
 only give him the opportunity. 
 
 A slight noise to the left caused Douglas to turn 
 his head, and as he did so he caught a fleeting glimpse 
 of some one moving swiftly yet cautiously among the 
 bushes. It was a woman, and he recognised her at once 
 as Jean Benton. She looked neither to the right nor 
 to the left, but kept her eyes fixed upon the couple 
 standing by the old tree. She leaned forward as she 
 walked and seemed to Douglas like a panther stealing 
 
TWIN FIRES 161 
 
 upon its prey. He could not see her face, but from 
 her intensity of action he could easily imagine the pas- 
 sion depicted there, and the fiery gleam in her eyes. 
 A sudden thrill shot through his body as he realised 
 the purpose of her presence. It was mad jealousy, 
 there could be no doubt of it, and the object was Nell. 
 She had alienated her lover's affections, and Jean's 
 passionate nature had been aroused. What would she 
 do? he asked himself. What could not a woman do 
 when crazed with intense fury? 
 
 Douglas expected that Jean would spring suddenly 
 from among the bushes and confront Ben and Nell face 
 to face. She did nothing of the kind, however, but 
 stopped when a short distance away, crouched low to 
 the ground, and watched. Douglas remained where he 
 was, spell-bound. There was nothing he could do, and 
 it was not his business to interfere. If he went for- 
 ward now, it would show that he had been spying. No, 
 he would wait and see what the outcome of it all would 
 be. 
 
 He did not have to wait long, for in a few minutes 
 Ben and Nell left the tree and walked slowly along the 
 path leading to the house. And after them crept Jean, 
 keeping well within the deep shadows of the thick 
 bushes. Soon all had disappeared and Douglas was 
 left alone with his thoughts. He did not at once leave 
 the shore, but sat there thinking over what he had 
 just witnessed. Jean was jealous of Nell, and blamed 
 her for stealing her lover. And what of himself? Was 
 he not jealous of Ben? Did he not want that beau- 
 tiful woman for himself? Yes, there were twin fires 
 burning in their breasts. But, oh, how different were 
 
162 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 their natures. Jean's was like a fiery volcano, ready to 
 burst forth in fury and destruction. His was more 
 moderate, he reasoned, righteous, temperate, and he 
 must see to it that it should be kept under control. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 
 
 NAN had gone to the store that morning for a few 
 groceries, and when she returned she was greatly 
 excited. 
 
 "Nell, Nell," she called, as she laid her parcels on 
 the kitchen table, "where are you?" 
 
 "Here I am," Nell replied, coming from the next 
 room. "What is the matter? You are all hot and 
 excited." 
 
 "They are going to arrest my musician, just think 
 of that!" 
 
 "Arrest your musician! Mr. Handyman! Why, what 
 for?" 
 
 "Because he hit Billy Keezer and Tom Oakes last 
 night on the road. He cut them up pretty badly, so 
 I heard." 
 
 Nell looked at her sister for a few seconds in an effort 
 to comprehend the meaning of it all. Then the truth 
 flashed upon her mind. "I am so glad I gave him that 
 pick-handle," she said to herself. "I felt that an at- 
 tack would be made upon him." To her sister, however, 
 she merely said, 
 
 "Sit down, Nan, and tell me what you have heard." 
 
 In a few words Nan told her the story that was in cir- 
 culation around the village. It was the same that Jake 
 had related to Douglas. 
 
 163 
 
164 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "And is every one blaming Mr. Handyman ?" Nell 
 asked when Nan had finished. 
 
 "Oh, yes. And they are saying what a dangerous 
 man he is, and should be driven out of the place. I 
 heard the storekeeper tell another man that he stole 
 Tom Oakes' coat last night, and that he believed that 
 Mr. Handyman is a noted thief.' ' 
 
 "Why, how did he get Tom's coat?" Nell asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 "No one seemed to know for sure. But people think 
 that he knocked Tom down and took his coat, thinking 
 there might be money in it." 
 
 "Where did this happen, Nan?" 
 
 "On the main road, according to Billy and Tom. 
 They said that they were walking quietly along when 
 they were set upon by Mr. Handyman, and knocked 
 down with a big stick. I don't believe it, do you?" 
 
 But Nell did not answer. She stood in the middle of 
 the room gazing thoughtfully out of the window which 
 faced the main highway. 
 
 "Come with me, Nan," she at length ordered. "Let 
 us go for a short walk. ' ' 
 
 Somewhat surprised, but asking no questions, Nan 
 accompanied her sister out of the house, through the 
 garden and along the road leading to the highway. 
 Nell kept a careful watch on both sides of the road, 
 and when they at last came to the spot where the fight 
 had taken place, she espied two hats lying in the ditch. 
 Near by were two stout cudgels. 
 
 "This is where the fight took place," Nell quietly re- 
 marked, as she pointed to the hats and the sticks. 
 1 ' They belong to Tom and Billy, if I am not much 
 mistaken. ' ' 
 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 165 
 
 "But they said it was on the main road where they 
 were attacked," Nan replied. 
 
 1 ' Then they must be lying. There is the proof where 
 the fight took place. And why was it here ? ' ' she asked. 
 
 "I don't know, do you?" 
 
 "I think I do. Billy and Tom were lying in wait 
 for Mr. Handyman last night, and attacked him as he 
 was coming from our house." 
 
 "Oh, do you think so? What would they do that 
 for?" 
 
 "Perhaps they were obeying orders. But we shall 
 find out later. Let us take those hats and sticks and 
 keep them; they may be needed later." 
 
 "Oh, I believe I know," Nan exclaimed, now much 
 excited. "They are Si Stubbles' men, and he got them 
 to attack my musician. Wasn't it mean of him! And 
 then to think that Billy and Tom would lie and throw 
 the blame on an innocent man." 
 
 Nell was very quiet during the rest of the day. She 
 went about her work as usual, but her mind was upon 
 other things. At times she found herself standing and 
 looking absently out of the window. She felt quite sure 
 who was the man responsible for the trouble the pre- 
 vious night. Her face was paler than it had been for 
 some time and an occasional nervous tremor shook her 
 body. She found herself mentally comparing two men ; 
 one, mean and contemptible, with no apparent aim in 
 life but the satisfaction of self; the other, self-reliant, 
 noble, and working for an honest wage. She knew that 
 one was a miserable cad, while the other was a true 
 gentleman. 
 
 As evening drew near, she became restless and worked 
 with a feverish haste about the house and at times in 
 
166 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 the garden. When supper was over, she drew Nan out 
 upon the verandah. 
 
 "Something is going to happen to-night/' she told 
 her, ' ' and I wish you would take father to his room and 
 read him to sleep." 
 
 "Is it that old tree affair again to-night?" Nan 
 impatiently asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And Ben will be there, I suppose." 
 
 "I expect he will." 
 
 "Nell, I wish you would tell him once and for all 
 that you will not have anything more to do with him. 
 I hate him, and so do you, and you know it." 
 
 "Hush, hush, Nan. Do not talk that way. Do as 
 I ask you now, and perhaps I shall have something to 
 tell you in the morning. You had better go to bed 
 early, too." 
 
 Nell seemed to be very calm as she walked slowly 
 to the shore and took up her position by the side of 
 the tree. But her heart was beating rapidly, and her 
 courage almost forsook her. When, however, she saw 
 Ben appear from the bushes, and thought of his con- 
 temptible work of the previous evening, she became 
 strengthened by the spirit of anger which suddenly 
 possessed her. He seemed to her more like a serpent 
 than a man, and she drew back a step as he approached 
 too near. 
 
 "Surely you're not afraid of me, Nell," he chided, 
 noting her action. 
 
 "I am not afraid," she calmly replied, "but I do 
 not wish you to come too close, that's all." 
 
 "When are you going to stop this fooling, Nell?" 
 he impetuously asked. 
 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 167 
 
 "I am going to stop it to-night, and at once," and 
 she looked him squarely in the eyes as she spoke. 
 "You have your answer." 
 
 He mistook her meaning, however, and reached out 
 impulsively to put his arms around her. 
 
 "Keep away," she ordered. "Don't touch me." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" Ben demanded, shrink- 
 ing back before her steadfast look. 
 
 "I mean that I am not going to have anything more 
 to do with you. You can go your way, and I will go 
 mine." 
 
 "But I thought you cared for me," the man replied 
 in surprise. 
 
 "Haven't I told you over and over again that I did 
 not? But you would persist in coming here, neverthe- 
 less." 
 
 "Do you mean what you say?" Ben asked, while a 
 surly expression leaped into his eyes. 
 
 "Yes, I mean every word. You had better go now, 
 as it will be no use for you to say anything more." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me this before, Nell?" 
 
 "I did, plainer than any words." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps you did. But why didn't you speak, 
 and tell me so?" 
 
 "There was a reason which it is not necessary for 
 me to explain." 
 
 "Ah, I know the reason. I see through your little 
 game now. You were using me as a tool, that was all. 
 But, damn you, I'll get even with you. That little 
 matter can soon be attended to, and then you'll find 
 out your mistake." 
 
 Nell's face was very white and strained, and with 
 difficulty she kept her outward calmness. Had she but 
 
168 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 realised that eyes glowing with hatred and jealousy 
 were watching her from the bushes a short distance 
 away, she would have broken down completely. 
 
 "I believe you are capable of doing almost any- 
 thing, Ben," she replied, "and accordingly any injury 
 you might do to us and our little home will be no sur- 
 prise. I am going back to the house now. It is no 
 use for us to talk any longer." 
 
 Nell moved away from the trees, hoping that Ben 
 would go back the way he had come. But she was 
 not to get clear of him so easily. He stepped quickly 
 to her side, and demanded what she meant by the words 
 she had just uttered. 
 
 "Surely you must know," she told him. "If I had 
 the least spark of affection for you, which I did not 
 have, it would have been quenched by your action at 
 the dance in the hall, and what you did last night." 
 
 "Last night! What did I do last night?" 
 
 "You know as well as I do, and I think a great deal 
 better. One who will hound on others to attack a lone 
 man on a dark night is not worthy to be called a man, 
 but should be listed with the brutes of the jungle." 
 
 An oath, leaped from Ben's lips and he gripped Nell 
 by the arm. 
 
 "Who told you that?" he growled. "How dare you 
 make such a charge ? ' ' 
 
 "I dare make it because I know it is true. How I 
 know it is my own affair. Let go my arm at once, 
 and don't you touch me again." 
 
 Nell's eyes were blazing with anger now, and Ben 
 shrank back cowed. The serpent within him could not 
 endure the righteous indignation of the pure and noble 
 woman before him. He knew that what she said was 
 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 169 
 
 true, and it roused him to an uncontrollable pitch of 
 fury. 
 
 "Ah, I know where you got your information, ' ' he 
 twitted. "I understand why you won't have anything 
 more to do with me. It's Jake Jukes' hired man who 
 is at the bottom of all this. Ah, I know. He's been 
 around here with his damn oily ways. That's the 
 secret of the whole thing. Oh, I understand it all 
 now. ' ' 
 
 "You think you know more than you do," Nell 
 quietly replied. "Mr. Handyman has told me nothing. 
 I have not seen him since the fight." 
 
 "But you saw him last night. He was at your 
 house." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 "Oh, I know very well." 
 
 "You were spying upon us, I suppose, sneaking 
 around and looking in at the window. Do you call that 
 a manly thing to do?" 
 
 Ben was getting the worst of the conversation, and 
 he knew it. 
 
 "I'll get even with that cur," he declared. "I'll 
 show him a thing or two. ' ' 
 
 "There, I wish to hear no more of such talk," Nell 
 replied. "I am going into the house." She started 
 to leave, but Ben stopped her. 
 
 "Just a minute before you go," he growled. "You 
 have thrown me over, and you think you are done with 
 me. But, remember, Nell Strong, I'm not a man to 
 be fooled with. You'll regret this sooner than you 
 imagine." 
 
 "Is that a threat?" she asked. "You are careless of 
 your words." 
 
170 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "You can call it what you like, I don't care. You 
 may scorn me now, but my turn will come." 
 
 Waiting to hear no more, Nell left him, hurried into 
 the house and closed the door. She partly expected 
 him to follow her, so she stood for a while in the middle 
 of the kitchen listening with fast-beating heart. After 
 she had waited for several minutes and no sound was 
 heard outside, she lighted the lamp and drew down the 
 blinds. Then she sat down upon a chair by the side 
 of the table and buried her face in her hands. She 
 was very tired and almost heartbroken over what had 
 just taken place. She knew how vindictive Ben would 
 be, and when she thought of her helpless father and 
 sister and what her decision might mean to them, she 
 almost repented of her action. But when she thought 
 of Ben and what a creature he really was, she felt that 
 anything was better than to be in the least manner 
 connected with him. Let him do his utmost, there 
 would still be some way, surely, whereby they could 
 make a living. 
 
 She sat thus for some time, and it seemed to her as 
 if her brain must burst from the confusion of thought. 
 She must do something to relieve her strained feelings. 
 There was plenty to be done, and she at once began to 
 fold some clothes which had been left over from the 
 previous day's washing, and which she had not had 
 time to iron. Her fingers moved rapidly, keeping pace 
 with her thoughts. 
 
 She had been engaged at this work but a short time 
 when she heard a step at the door. Then there was the 
 sound of some one lifting the latch. Could it be Ben 
 coming ? she asked herself. What would she do ? What 
 could she say to him? As she stood there hesitating, 
 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 171 
 
 the door slowly opened, and instead of Ben, Jean Ben- 
 ton stood before her. Nell breathed a sigh of relief 
 when she saw her, though the expression upon the girl's 
 face startled her. 
 
 "Oh, Jean!" she exclaimed, "how you did frighten 
 me ! Come and sit down, for you look tired. ' ' 
 
 Jean made no reply but stood there with her eyes 
 fixed upon Nell's face. They were wild eyes, and they 
 caused Nell to tremble. Was Jean mad? she wondered, 
 and what would she do with her? What did she want, 
 anyway? 
 
 "Won't you sit down?" she asked, not knowing 
 what else to say. 
 
 Jean took a step or two forward, and so fierce was 
 her look that Nell shrank back. 
 
 "Jean, Jean, what's the matter?" she demanded. 
 "Why do you look at me that way?" 
 
 Jean suddenly lifted her right hand, and pointed her 
 forefinger at the trembling woman before her. 
 
 "You stole him from me," she hissed. "You took 
 him away when I needed him most. Ah, that is what 
 you have done, and you needn't try to deny it." 
 
 For an instant Nell was unable to comprehend the 
 meaning of Jean's words. Then the truth flashed upon 
 her mind. The girl was mad with jealousy. She imag- 
 ined that she had stolen Ben from her. 
 
 "Jean, Jean, listen to me," she pleaded. "I haven't 
 taken Ben from you, if that is what you mean. He 
 came to me of his own accord, and I have refused 
 to have anything more to do with him." 
 
 "You lie!" the half-crazed woman cried. "I saw 
 you together to-night, talking by the tree and by the 
 
172 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 house. His arm was around you. I saw it all, and 
 you needn't deny it." 
 
 "Listen to me," Nell ordered, now much annoyed. 
 "Won't you believe me? I tell you I have not taken 
 him from you. He was with me to-night for the last 
 time. I told him to go and never to come back again. 
 Why do you blame me? Ben is the one to blame. If 
 he has deserted you, why don 't you go to him ? ' ' 
 
 "He isn't to blame," Jean cried. "Don't try to 
 clear yourself, Nell Strong. You have stolen him, and 
 you know it. But you won't have him. He shall never 
 be yours." 
 
 Quick as a flash, Jean thrust her right hand into the 
 bosom of her dress, and ripped forth a sharp knife. 
 Like a tiger she sprang upon Nell. Instinctively the 
 latter stepped back and raised her left arm to ward 
 off the blow, which thus received the knife meant for 
 her heart. With almost superhuman effort Nell hurled 
 her assailant from her, drew forth the knife from the 
 quivering flesh, and threw it behind her. The blood 
 was streaming from her arm, but she kept her eyes fixed 
 upon the baffled girl before her, not knowing what she 
 might do next. But the sight of blood seemed to sat- 
 isfy Jean. She gloated over her deed, and with a 
 wild mocking laugh, she opened the door and sped 
 out into the night. 
 
 With a great effort Nell overcame the deathly feeling 
 of faintness which came upon her. Quickly she locked 
 the door, and then turned her attention to her injured 
 arm. The wound was still bleeding profusely, and 
 it was with considerable difficulty that she was at length 
 able to stop the flow of blood. The gash was not as 
 deep as she had first expected. The knife in falling 
 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 173 
 
 had struck a glancing blow just below the shoulder on 
 the outer part of the arm. For this Nell was thank- 
 ful, but she shuddered as she thought of what her 
 assailant really intended to do. 
 
 "When the wound had been carefully bound up, Nell 
 sat down by the side of the table and thought over 
 what had just taken place. But for the pain in her arm 
 she might have considered it nothing more than a ter- 
 rible dream. She had never imagined that Jean, who 
 in the past had been so gentle, good, and loving, could 
 be so changed. But she knew that jealousy was the 
 cause, and jealousy could be as cruel as the grave. 
 
 After she had burnt up the clothes with which she 
 had staunched the wound, and wiped up the stains on 
 the floor, Nell went slowly up to her own room. But 
 she could not sleep, for the excitement through which 
 she had recently passed caused her brain to throb and 
 her head to ache. She tossed restlessly upon her bed, 
 and finding that she could get no rest she got up and 
 paced rapidly up and down the room. At times she 
 thought she would go mad like Jean, as she recalled 
 all that had taken place. She glanced into the mirror, 
 and was astonished at the haggard face which con- 
 fronted her there. "What was she to do? 
 
 Presently her eyes rested upon her mother's pic- 
 ture hanging on the wall. She studied it lovingly and 
 longingly, and then, "Mother! Mother !" burst from 
 her lips. "Oh, I want you, I want you! Come to me 
 to-night, and comfort me as of old." 
 
 And as she stood there her mother's parting words 
 came to her mind. "Nellie," she had said, "you are 
 young and a great responsibility rests upon you. You 
 will fail if you try to bear it alone. There is One to 
 
174 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Whom you can always go, and He will help you in all 
 your troubles. " 
 
 At once a new light came into her eyes. There was 
 One who had promised to help. Why had she forgotten 
 Him? Kneeling down by the side of her bed, she 
 prayed as she had never prayed before. And as she 
 thus knelt, a new peace stole into her heart, and it 
 seemed to her as if a divine presence pervaded the 
 room, bringing a restful balm to her weary body and 
 mind. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 SILENT STRIFE 
 
 DOUGLAS was hoeing corn on a patch of ground 
 near the road. It was a beautiful day, and the 
 air was filled with teeming life of bird and insect. But 
 the silent worker was in no mood to enjoy the fair morn- 
 ing. He was thinking deeply of what he had witnessed 
 down by the river the evening before. As far as he 
 could tell, Nell and Ben were on most friendly terms, 
 for he knew nothing of the stormy scene which had 
 taken place between them. 
 
 Across the road was the rectory, seeming more di- 
 lapidated than ever, so he thought. Only yesterday he 
 had looked at it, and a picture had come into his mind 
 of the building renewed, the house set to rights, and 
 Nell crowning it all by her grace and beauty. He had 
 imagined her in the garden, among the roses, sweet- 
 peas and morning-glories, the fairest flower of them all. 
 He knew just how she would look, and what a joy it 
 would be to her to tend the various plants. And then 
 what a welcome she would give him upon his return 
 from some parish work. He had dreamed of it all out 
 in the field, and it had made him very happy. What 
 a success he would make of life with Nell's inspiration 
 and helpfulness. But now his vision was shattered, and 
 the future looked dark and lonely. Nell could never 
 be his, and why should he think of her any more ? She 
 
 175 
 
176 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 had given herself, no doubt, to Ben Stubbles so that 
 ended it. 
 
 It seemed to Douglas as if everything he undertook 
 was a failure. He had not succeeded with hi? work at 
 St. Margaret 's, and he had become entangled in a quar- 
 rel in the very parish where he was shortly expected 
 to come as rector, the solution of which he could not 
 see. Instead of bringing peace to troubled Church 
 waters, and harmony out of chaos, he had apparently 
 made matters worse by his interference. . Added to 
 this, he was deeply in love with the one woman he could 
 not hope to win. 
 
 As he moved slowly up and down the rows thinking 
 of these things, Empty appeared suddenly before him. 
 The lad was breathing hard and seemed greatly agi- 
 tated. 
 
 "Hello, Empty! what's wrong ?" Douglas enquired, 
 pausing in his work. 
 
 "Go fer the doctor, quick,' ' Empty panted. "Jean's 
 sick, very sick, an' ma sent me fer you. She can't 
 spare me a minute, so I must hustle back. Will ye go ? ' ' 
 
 "Certainly," Douglas replied. "But when did Jean 
 become ill? She seemed all right last night." 
 
 "She took sick jist a little while ago. Oh, hurry! 
 Don't waste time talkin'. An', say, ye might drop 
 in an' tell her dad. Joe's very uneasy 'bout Jean." 
 
 Douglas wished to ask Empty a number of ques- 
 tions, but having delivered his message, the lad left 
 him and sped like a deer by a short-cut across the field. 
 The telephone was at the store and Douglas lost no 
 time in getting there. Several people were standing 
 before the counter as he entered the building, who lis- 
 tened with great interest as he asked the store-keeper 
 
SILENT STRIFE 177 
 
 for the use of the telephone. Then as he spoke to the 
 doctor, requesting him to hurry at once to Mrs. Demp- 
 ster's, the curiosity of the bystanders became intense. 
 They would have something to discuss among them- 
 selves, and a choice bit of gossip would soon be in cir- 
 culation throughout the parish. 
 
 When Douglas left the store, he made his way to the 
 shoemaker's. He found Joe at his bench, half-soling 
 a pair of shoes. He greeted his visitor cordially, and 
 offered him a seat upon the only chair the room con- 
 tained. 
 
 "I haven't time to sit down this morning," Douglas 
 told him. "I have just called up the doctor, and 
 dropped in to see you for a minute." 
 
 "Called up the doctor!" Joe repeated, while an anx- 
 ious look came into his eyes. "Who's sick?" 
 
 "It is Jean. She is not very well." 
 
 "Ah, I was afraid of it," and the old man laid aside 
 the shoe, and looked intently into his visitor's face. 
 1 ■ Poor lassie, she must have caught cold out on the hills 
 that night. Is she at Mrs. Dempster's yet?" 
 
 "Yes. Empty came for me this morning, and he 
 had to go right back." 
 
 "I must go at once." Joe rose from the bench as 
 he spoke and untied his leather apron. "Jean may 
 need me now." 
 
 ' ' Would it not be better for your wife to go ? " Doug- 
 las asked. "A woman can generally do more in a sick 
 room than a man." 
 
 Joe shook his head as he carefully folded the apron 
 and laid it on the bench. 
 
 "No, she couldn't very well go. She hasn't been that 
 far in a long time. It's her foot, you see. It's been 
 
178 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 troubling her for years. Jean '11 have to come home, 
 and then she can look after her. Just wait, I '11 be with 
 you in a minute/ ' 
 
 As the two walked along the road there was little 
 said for a time. Joe seemed to be lost in thought, 
 and occasionally he gave a deep sigh. 
 
 "I am thinking," he at length remarked, "that this 
 sickness will be for Jean's good. It may be that the 
 Lord has a hand in it, and He will lead her home 
 through the valley of trouble. He did it in olden days, 
 and I believe He does the same now." 
 
 "Have you any idea what is the matter with your 
 daughter?" Douglas enquired. "What do you sup- 
 pose has caused such a great change in her from what 
 she was before she left home?" 
 
 "I have never heard," Joe slowly replied. "Jean 
 would not tell me." 
 
 "But there must have been something, Mr. Benton. 
 It is not natural for a girl who was brought up so care- 
 fully to change in such a short time." 
 
 Douglas knew the nature of Jean's illness, and he 
 was anxious that Joe's mind might be somewhat pre- 
 pared for the shock. He felt that he could do no more 
 than give a hint. 
 
 "Jean has been working too hard," the old man 
 replied. "She was always a great worker, and I think 
 she is run down and her mind is somewhat affected. 
 She will be all right as soon as she gets over this sick- 
 ness. ' ' 
 
 "But what about the letter you received from the 
 city?" Douglas persisted. "Didn't it show that there 
 must have been something wrong there? She was sent 
 home for repairs, was she not?" 
 
SILENT STRIFE 179 
 
 "I have thought it all over, sir, night and day, and 
 we have talked about it a great deal. Jean has done 
 nothing wrong, mark my word. I thought at first that 
 perhaps she had, but I know better now. Why, it's 
 not in that child to do anything wrong. She's always 
 been as innocent as a baby. She was led astray for a 
 time, that's all." 
 
 Douglas had not the heart to say anything more. 
 He left Joe when they came to the corn patch, and 
 picked up his hoe. He stood and watched the old man 
 ambling along the road, and a feeling of deep pity 
 came into his heart. Why should such a worthy man 
 have to endure so much? he asked himself. He knew 
 the cause of the trouble, and his thoughts turned to the 
 cowardly cur who had brought such misery upon the 
 humble home. It was not right that Ben should escape, 
 and he felt that something should be done to expose 
 the villain. But if he told what he knew, who would 
 believe him? Ben would defy him to produce evidence 
 of his dastardly deed, and most of the people in the 
 place would side with him. They would say that Jake's 
 hired man had trumped up a lie about Ben Stubbles 
 out of mere spite. 
 
 Douglas brooded over this during the rest of the 
 morning, and as he continued his work after dinner he 
 was still thinking about it and wondering what he 
 could do to bring about Ben 's deserved punishment and 
 humiliation. It was galling to him to see the fellow 
 strutting about and lording it over everybody. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon, happening to 
 glance down the road, he was astonished to see Joe 
 walking slowly along, swaying from side to side, as if 
 he were dizzy or had been drinking. Douglas believed 
 
180 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 that something more than usual was the matter, and 
 by the time the old man had reached the corn patch 
 he was standing by the side of the road. 
 
 "What is wrong?" he asked. "Is Jean dead?" 
 
 "Worse than dead," was the low reply. "Oh, if 
 she were only dead! God help my Jean, my darling 
 Jean!" 
 
 Joe's face was drawn and haggard. His eyes were 
 red as if they had been rubbed hard and long. His 
 body trembled so violently that Douglas feared that 
 he might collapse where he stood. 
 
 "Won't you sit down?" he asked. "You must be 
 tired. Rest awhile." 
 
 ' ■ Sit down ! Rest ! ' ' Joe slowly repeated, as if he did 
 not fully comprehend the words. "How dare I think 
 of rest with my poor child's troubles on my mind?" 
 
 He ceased and let his eyes roam across the fields 
 toward the Dempster home. Then he straightened him- 
 self up and turning to his companion clutched him 
 fiercely by the arm. His lips moved, though no word 
 was uttered. But his eyes and face said all that was 
 necessary. A heartbroken father was being torn by a 
 wild passion, and what anger is more terrible than that 
 caused by an injury to an offspring, whether of man or 
 beast? Douglas made no effort to soothe the grief- 
 stricken man. He realised that the storm must beat 
 itself out, and that words of comfort or sympathy would 
 be empty sounds falling on unheeding ears. He knew 
 that silence is never more golden than in the presence 
 of overmastering grief. 
 
 At first he thought that Joe's passion was that of 
 anger alone for the one who had outraged his daugh- 
 ter. But presently, he intuitively divined that the 
 
SILENT STRIFE 181 
 
 struggle was deeper than that. He felt that it was a 
 conflict between right and wrong; the desire of the 
 savage beast thirsting for revenge, contending with the 
 Christ-like spirit of forgiveness. Now he longed to 
 speak, to utter some word that would decide the battle 
 for the right. But never did he feel so helpless. He 
 recalled several appropriate texts of Scripture, but he 
 did not quote them. Why he did not do so he could 
 not tell. He realised the importance of the moment, 
 and felt like a coward for his helplessness. If the 
 beast nature should win, no end of harm might be 
 done. What should he do? 
 
 Presently an idea flashed into his mind. Why had 
 he not thought of it before? he asked himself. 
 
 Taking Joe by the arm, he led him from the road to 
 a large maple tree standing near the edge of the field. 
 
 "Sit down under the shade," he ordered, "and wait 
 until I come back." 
 
 Joe at first refused, and declared that he did not 
 want to rest. But under his companion's gentle yet 
 firm urging he sank upon the grass and buried his face 
 in his hands. 
 
 Leaving him there, Douglas hastened to the house. 
 In a few minutes he returned, carrying his violin. Joe 
 never looked up as he approached, but remained, hud- 
 dled upon the ground, the very epitome of abject 
 despair. 
 
 At once Douglas began to play strong, violent music, 
 in keeping with Joe's feelings. Each note suggested 
 a tempest, and as the playing continued, the old man 
 lifted his head and Douglas noted the gleam in his 
 eyes and the angry expression upon his face. At that 
 
182 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 moment he was ready for action, for revenge dire and 
 swift. 
 
 But gradually the music changed. It became soft 
 and low. It appealed to the better and higher nature. 
 It was like the revivifying breath of spring after win- 
 ter's sternness, and the sun's radiant smile following 
 the raging tempest. It affected Joe. The light in his 
 eyes changed, and his face softened. His body relaxed. 
 Then the player knew that the victory was won. Gently 
 he drifted off to the old, familiar hymns of "Nearer 
 My God to Thee," and "Abide with Me." 
 
 As the last note died upon the air, Joe rose slowly 
 from the ground. He said nothing, but reaching out 
 he clasped Douglas by the hand. Then with head erect 
 and a new light in his eyes, he turned and made his 
 way slowly toward the road. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WARMER THAN HE EXPECTED 
 
 JOE had gone but a short distance up the road when 
 Ben Stubbles met him in his ear, and enveloped 
 him in a cloud of dust. Ben was alone and he scowled 
 as the old man stepped aside to let him pass. Douglas, 
 who was watching, felt thankful that Joe was ignorant 
 of the driver's part in Jean's ruin. 
 
 Seeing Douglas standing under the tree, Ben drew 
 up his car and asked him what he was doing there. 
 
 "Attending to my own affairs," was the cool reply. 
 
 "Amusing the old man, eh? You must have a damn 
 lot of work to do if you can afford to waste your time 
 that way." 
 
 "That, too, is my own affair, and not yours. Have 
 you anything more to say?" 
 
 "Sure I have. I want to know what you are doing 
 here." 
 
 "Why shouldn't I be here?" 
 
 "But you received orders to leave." 
 
 "Who gave them?" 
 
 "Dad, of course." 
 
 "What right had he to order me away?" 
 
 "Oh, he rules here." 
 
 "Well, he doesn't rule me, and I shall leave when I 
 get ready, and not before." 
 
 "You'll change your tune before long, though." 
 183 
 
184 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "I will, eh?" 
 
 "Sure. You'll find this place so damn hot for you 
 that you'll be glad to get out." 
 
 "H'm," and Douglas gave a sarcastic laugh. "You 
 have tried to make it hot for me already, so I believe. 
 How did you succeed?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" Ben demanded. 
 
 "You know as well as I do. You set two men upon 
 me the other night, as you were too much of a coward 
 to face me yourself. Now you understand my meaning. 
 If you want to make things hot for me, step right out 
 here. Now is your chance." 
 
 "I wouldn't foul my hands fighting a thing like 
 you," Ben snarled. 
 
 "No, simply because you know what would happen 
 to you. You are too cowardly to face a man, but you 
 have no hesitation about ruining an innocent girl, and 
 leaving her to a miserable fate." 
 
 At these words Ben clutched the door of his car, 
 threw it open and stepped quickly out upon the road. 
 His face was livid with rage, and his body was trem- 
 bling. 
 
 "Explain yourself!" he shouted. "How dare you 
 make such a charge ? ' ' 
 
 Douglas at once stepped across to where Ben was 
 standing, and looked him full in the eyes. 
 
 "Is it necessary for me to explain?" he asked. 
 "Surely you have not forgotten what you did at Long 
 Wharf in the city?" 
 
 "Do! What did I do?" Ben gasped, while his face 
 turned a sickly hue. 
 
 "You pushed Jean Benton over the wharf into the 
 harbour and left her to drown; that is what you did." 
 
WARMER THAN HE EXPECTED 185 
 
 Douglas spoke slowly and impressively, and each 
 word fell like a deadly blow upon the man before him. 
 His face, pale a minute before, was now like death. 
 He tried to speak but the words rattled in his throat. 
 He grasped the side of the car for support, and then 
 made an effort to recover his composure. The perspira- 
 tion stood in great beads on his forehead, and his star- 
 ing eyes never left the face of his accuser. 
 
 "I wish you could see yourself,'' the latter quietly 
 remarked. " You'd certainly make a great picture. 
 When you threatened to make this place too hot for 
 me, you didn't expect to feel very uncomfortable that 
 way yourself in such a short time, did you?" 
 
 "W-who in the devil's name are you?" Ben gasped. 
 
 "Oh, I don't pretend to be as intimate with the 
 devil as you are, and appealing to me in his name 
 doesn't do any good. It makes no difference who I 
 am. You know that what I just said is true, and you 
 can't deny it." 
 
 "But suppose I do deny it, what then?" 
 
 "H'm, you are talking nonsense now. It's no use for 
 you to do any bluffing. The victim of your deviltry 
 is lying sick unto death at Mrs. Dempster's. You had 
 better go to her at once and make what amends you 
 can before it is too late." 
 
 "Ah, I know," Ben replied, regaining somewhat his 
 former composure. "Jean has been stuffing you with 
 lies. She's a little vixen, and wants to get me into 
 trouble." 
 
 "Look here," and Douglas' voice was stern as he 
 spoke. "Don't you begin anything like that. I have 
 never spoken a word to Jean Benton, and as far as I 
 know she has never said anything about your cowardly 
 
186 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 deed to her. She is as true as steel in her love for 
 you, and my advice is for you to act like a man, go 
 to her, be true to her, and marry her as you promised 
 you would that night you hurled her into the harbour. ' ' 
 
 "You are lying," Ben blustered. "If Jean didn't 
 tell you this cock-and-bull yarn, how would you know 
 anything about it?" 
 
 "I am not lying, Ben Stubbles. There were eyes 
 watching your every action that night on Long Wharf ; 
 there were ears listening to what you said, and but for 
 these hands of mine Jean Benton would be dead, and 
 you would now be arrested for murdering her." 
 
 "You! You heard, and saw, and saved her!" Ben 
 gasped, shrinking back from before the steady gaze of 
 his pitiless accuser. 
 
 ' 1 1 did, ' ' was the quiet reply. 
 
 "Were you alone?" 
 
 "Do you think I could have lifted her wet body 
 from the water myself? No, I had help. But never 
 mind that now. You go to Jean and make love to no 
 one else." 
 
 The strain through which he had just passed was 
 telling severely upon Ben. He mopped his face and 
 forehead with his handkerchief. His sense of fear was 
 passing and anger was taking its place. It annoyed 
 him to think that he should be thus cornered and af- 
 fected by Jake Jukes' hired man. Then his opponent's 
 closing words roused the fire in his soul, and he turned 
 angrily upon him. 
 
 "Ah, I see through your little game now," he cried. 
 "You are jealous of me." 
 
 1 * Jealous of you ! In what way ? ' ' 
 
 "You want Nell Strong, that's it. Ah, I understand 
 
WARMER THAN HE EXPECTED 187 
 
 it all. You want to take her away from me, don't you? 
 I suppose you have told her this yarn about me, and 
 that accounts for something that took place last night. 
 You devil incarnate! I'll get even with you for what 
 you have done!" 
 
 ''If I were you I would be too ashamed to say any- 
 thing more," Douglas calmly replied. "I have not told 
 Miss Strong about your cowardly deed, though I think 
 she should know of it. It would be an act of mercy if 
 a word might save her from such a brute as you." 
 
 So intent were the two men upon what they were 
 saying, that they did not notice Nell coming toward 
 them down the road. She was only a few yards away 
 as Douglas finished speaking. She heard the heated 
 words, but could not understand their meaning. She 
 was hoping that she might pass as quickly as possible, 
 as she did not wish to have anything to say to Ben. 
 
 Douglas, standing facing the road, was the first to 
 see her, and he at once lifted his hat. He thought she 
 never looked so beautiful, clad as she was in a simple 
 dress, and a plain sailor-hat on her head. She seemed 
 like an angel of mercy sent to bring peace to their 
 strife. 
 
 Ben, however, had no such thoughts. When he 
 turned and saw who was approaching, he at once re- 
 called the previous evening, and what Nell had said 
 to him. He was glad, too, of any excuse to get away 
 from his opponent who had given him such a galling 
 time. And this was an opportunity, as well, to em- 
 barrass the woman who had repelled him. These 
 thoughts flashed through his mind in the twinkling of 
 an eye. 
 
 "Hello, Nell," he accosted. "Going down the road? 
 
183 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Better get in and have a drive. I'm going that way 
 myself. ' ' 
 
 "I prefer to walk, thank you," Nell quietly replied. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense. Get in and have a drive," Ben in- 
 sisted. 
 
 Douglas noted that Nell's face became somewhat pale. 
 Her clear eyes, filled with courage, never wavered. She 
 had made up her mind and he knew that nothing could 
 change her from her purpose. She did not at once re- 
 ply to Ben's request. 
 
 "Get in," he ordered, "and don't be foolish." 
 
 "I tell you I prefer to walk," she repeated. "I am 
 quite satisfied with my own company this afternoon." 
 
 With this parting thrust, Nell was about to resume 
 her walk when Ben with a savage oath sprang toward 
 her. 
 
 1 ' No, you don 't get away as easy as that, ' ' he roared. 
 "I want to know the meaning of such actions." 
 
 Nell's anger was now aroused, and she turned swiftly 
 upon the brute. 
 
 "You know very well why I will not ride with you. 
 Have you forgotten last night? This is the King's 
 highway, and I am at liberty to go as I please." 
 
 "To h with the King," Ben retorted, as he 
 
 reached out and caught her fiercely by the arm. 
 
 At once a cry of pain broke from Nell's lips, and 
 wildly she tore away the gripping fingers. Her face 
 was distorted with pain, and her right hand pressed 
 firmly her wounded arm. 
 
 Ben's oath concerning the King caused Douglas' face 
 to darken and his eyes to blaze. He sprang quickly 
 forward, and seized the wretch by the collar just as 
 Nell forced his grip from her arm. He shook him as 
 
WARMER THAN HE EXPECTED 189 
 
 a terrier would shake a rat and left him at length 
 sprawling in the middle of the road, his clothes all 
 covered with dust. 
 
 "If you want some more, get up," Douglas remarked, 
 as he stood viewing his prostrate victim. "How dare 
 you insult the King, and lay your foul hands upon this 
 woman? Get up, I tell you, and clear out of this at 
 once. ' ' 
 
 As Ben made no effort to ohey, but lay there with 
 his face to the ground, Douglas reached down, caught 
 him by the coat collar, and landed him on his feet. 
 
 "Take your car and get away from here," he or- 
 dered. "Don't open your mouth, or it won't be well 
 for you." 
 
 With face livid with rage and with shaking limbs, 
 Ben did as he was commanded. He was thoroughly 
 cowed, and not once did he look back as he crawled 
 into his car, started it, and sped down the road. 
 
 Douglas paid no more attention to Ben but turned 
 immediately toward Nell. 
 
 "I am sorry for what has happened," he apologised. 
 "I hope you " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, for he noticed a deep crimson 
 stain on the white dress where Ben had clutched her 
 arm. 
 
 "Did he do that?" he exclaimed, stepping quickly 
 forward. "Oh, if I had only known sooner the extent 
 of your injury, he would not have escaped so easily." 
 
 "He did not do it all," Nell replied with a slight 
 smile. "There is a wound on my arm, and unfortu- 
 nately Ben's fingers gripped me there. It will be all 
 right when it is re-dressed." 
 
 For a few seconds Douglas stood looking at her with- 
 
190 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 out speaking. Her courage appealed to him, and her 
 beauty made her almost irresistible. His brain was in 
 a tumultuous riot of conflicting emotions. How he 
 longed to comfort her, to take her in his arms, and 
 tell her all that was in his heart. He was almost jubi- 
 lant, for he knew now that she had cast off Ben forever, 
 and there was hope for him. 
 
 Nell noted his ardent gaze and her eyes dropped, 
 while a deep flush replaced the pallor of her face. 
 
 "I must go now," she quietly remarked, though it 
 was evident she was not anxious to leave. "I was on 
 my way to see Jean. I understand the poor girl is quite 
 ill." 
 
 "But you must not go with your arm bleeding that 
 way," Douglas protested. "You must come into the 
 house and have it dressed. I know that Mrs. Jukes will 
 gladly do it, that is, if you prefer to have her." 
 
 "I prefer that you should dress it," Nell replied. 
 " I do not wish any one else to see the wound in my arm, 
 and I know you will say nothing about it to any one. I 
 feel that I can trust you." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 CONFIDENCE 
 
 MRS. JUKES was greatly puzzled over all that 
 had taken place out upon the road. She had 
 been watching from a front window, and at times had 
 been tempted to go for Jake that he might witness the 
 interesting scene. But she was afraid that she might 
 miss something if she left even for a few minutes. 
 "When she saw Nell and Douglas coming to the house, 
 she was at the door ready to receive them. 
 
 "Well, I declare/ ' she exclaimed, "if you folks 
 haven't been having a time out on the road this after- 
 noon. It was mighty lucky that no teams passed, or the 
 horses would have run away with fright at your ac- 
 tions. ' ' 
 
 "I am afraid you will discharge me for neglecting 
 iny work," Douglas laughingly replied. 
 
 "I guess you needn't worry about that. It all de- 
 pends on what caused you to neglect your work, and it 
 was a mighty good one, if I'm any judge. My, I was 
 glad to see you roll Ben Stubbles in the dust. What's 
 he been up to, now?" 
 
 "You saw him clutch Miss Strong by the arm, didn't 
 you?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Indeed I did." 
 
 "Well, then, see," and he pointed to the stain on 
 Nell's dress. "We need a little warm water and soft 
 
 191 
 
192 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 bandages, or something that will do for the present,' ' 
 
 "My lands! did that brute do that?" Mrs. Jukes ex- 
 claimed. "It's no wonder you rolled him in the dust. 
 Just come inside and I'll get what you want in a jiffy." 
 
 Very gently and with considerable skill Douglas 
 washed and dressed the injured arm. He made no com- 
 ment about the nature of the wound, though it was not 
 hard for him to surmise in what way it had been in- 
 flicted. He saw where the knife had pierced the soft 
 flesh, and his hands trembled slightly as he thought how 
 serious must have been the attack, and how great the 
 strain upon Nell's nerves. 
 
 "You are as good as a doctor," she laughingly told 
 him. ' ' No one could do any better than that. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Oh, I took a course in First Aid at one time, and the 
 knowledge I gained has served me in good stead on 
 many occasions." Douglas was just on the point of 
 saying that it was at college where he had learned such 
 things, and that then he had been seriously thinking 
 of becoming a medical missionary. It was the nearest 
 he had come to giving himself away since he had been 
 at Rixton, and he determined to be more cautious in 
 the future. 
 
 Mrs. Jukes insisted that Nell should remain for 
 supper. 
 
 "I would have had it ready now," she told her, "if 
 I hadn't spent so much time at the window. But I 
 guess it was worth it. I won't be long, anyway, and 
 Jake has not come from the field yet." 
 
 Douglas was greatly pleased when Nell at last con- 
 sented to stay. He went out to bring in Jake, and 
 when he returned, he found Nell playing with the 
 Jukes' children. Her face was bright and animated, 
 
CONFIDENCE 193 
 
 and she seemed to have forgotten all about her re- 
 cent troubles. The little ones were delighted at the 
 stories she told them, as well as the games she knew, 
 and they would not leave her when supper was ready, 
 but insisted on sitting next to her at the table. Doug- 
 las sat opposite, and he was perfectly content to let 
 the others talk. Nell was near; he could look upon 
 her face, and listen to what she said, and he was sat- 
 isfied. 
 
 Jake was in great spirits when he learned what had 
 happened. 
 
 " Great punkins!" he exclaimed. "I wish I'd been 
 there to have seen it." 
 
 "But what about the corn?" Douglas asked. "It 
 didn't get much hoeing to-day." 
 
 "Never mind about the corn, John. Ye kin hoe it 
 agin, but ye might never git another chance to roll 
 Ben Stubbles in the dust. Ho, ho, that was a good 
 one!" 
 
 When Nell left to return home, it was but natural 
 that Douglas should accompany her. He asked per- 
 mission to do so, and her acceptance brought a great 
 joy to his heart. 
 
 The Jukes watched them as they walked toward the 
 road. 
 
 "That's settled, all right," was Mrs. Jukes' com- 
 ment. 
 
 "What?" Jake asked. 
 
 "Why, can't you see for yourself? They're deep in 
 love with each other, that's what it is." 
 
 "Umph!" Jake grunted. "I never thought of it be- 
 fore. It takes a woman to see sich things. My, John '11 
 git a prize if he hooks Nell. Strange that she takes 
 
194 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 to him, an' him only a hired man. Why, she's fit fer 
 a parson's wife." 
 
 "I don't believe he's only a hired man," his wife 
 replied. 
 
 "Woman, what d'ye mean?" Jake demanded in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Oh, I don't exactly know. But he's the queerest 
 hired man I ever saw. He's got a good education, and 
 just think how he plays the fiddle. Why, he is wasting 
 his time working as a hired man for small wages, when 
 he might he earning big money somewhere else. That's 
 what 's been puzzling me for days. ' ' 
 
 "Mebbe he's a dook or a prince, Susie, in disguise. 
 I've heered of sich things. But he's a prince all right, 
 fer I don't know when I met a man I think as much 
 of as him. An ' as fer farm work, why he can 't be beat. 
 He knows it from A to Z, an' that's sayin' a good deal." 
 
 "I wonder what Ben will do now?" Mrs. Jukes 
 mused. "He must be about wild. I saw him go up 
 the road in his car just before supper, and he was driv- 
 ing like mad." 
 
 "He'll do something, mark my word," Jake replied. 
 "He'll try to git even with John somehow. I should 
 have given him warnin'. He shouldn't be out at night. 
 It isn't safe." 
 
 "Oh, he can take care of himself, all right. I'm not 
 anxious about him, though I am quite nervous concern- 
 ing Nell. Ben and the rest of the Stubbles will do their 
 best to make it hard for her." 
 
 Nell and Douglas did not go up the road, but walked 
 slowly down across the field toward the river. It was 
 a roundabout way, but that suited them both, as they 
 would have more time together, and this latter was far 
 
CONFIDENCE 195 
 
 more private. For the time being, they were happy, 
 talking and laughing like two joyous children. Their 
 faces were radiant, and their eyes were filled with 
 animation when at length they reached the river and 
 stopped by the old tree where Douglas had first seen 
 Nell. 
 
 1 ' This has been a wonderful day to me, ' ' he remarked, 
 as he stood looking out over the water. "I little real- 
 ised this morning that we would be standing here now. 
 It was here that I first saw you, and heard you play- 
 ing over by that tree. ,, 
 
 " Don't mention that night,' ' Nell pleaded. "I want 
 to forget it, and everything that is past." 
 
 "And this afternoon, too?" 
 
 "Everything except your great kindness to me. I 
 shall never forget that, and I don't want to, either." 
 
 "I am so glad that I was able to rescue you from 
 that brute. My only regret is that I was not near to 
 save you from harm last night. If I had been there, 
 that would not have happened," and he motioned to 
 her wounded arm. 
 
 Nell turned her face quickly to his and her eyes 
 expressed a great wonder. 
 
 "Why, how did you learn about that?" she enquired. 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 "No one. I am an amateur Sherlock Holmes, and 
 have drawn my own conclusions from what I have seen 
 and surmised. Jean is jealous of you, and 'that way 
 madness lies.' Am I not right?" 
 
 "You certainly are," and a tremour shook Nell's body 
 as she recalled the incident of the previous evening. 
 "Oh, it was terrible! Jean is so jealous of me. She 
 thinks that I have taken Ben from her, and she would 
 
196 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 not believe a word I told her. She would listen to noth- 
 ing, but said I was lying." 
 
 "And you were not?" Douglas eagerly asked. 
 
 "No. I simply told her the truth, and that Ben is 
 nothing to me, and that I never tried to take him from 
 her. But she would not believe me." 
 
 A feeling of wonderful rapture came into Douglas' 
 soul as he listened to this candid confession. So Ben 
 was nothing to Nell. It was almost too good to be true. 
 There was hope for him. 
 
 "But you often met Ben by the tree over there, did 
 you not?" he at length questioned. "It was there I 
 first saw you when you played such sweet music. I 
 remember he joined you that evening." 
 
 For a while Nell remained silent with her eyes fixed 
 thoughtfully upon the ground. Douglas was afraid 
 that he had said too much, and had offended her. But 
 when she lifted her face and he saw the expression 
 upon it, he knew that he was wrong. Her cheeks were 
 aglow with animation and her eyes beamed with eager- 
 ness. 
 
 "Do you mind if I tell you something?" she asked. 
 "Part of it is known only to Nan and me. I feel that 
 I can trust you." 
 
 "I shall be delighted to hear," Douglas replied, 
 "and I am most grateful for your confidence in me." 
 
 "I am very much worried about what will happen to 
 us and our little home," she began. "You see, when 
 father was a professor at Passdale he bought this place 
 for a summer residence, and my dear mother always 
 loved it so much. When he became blind, we moved 
 here, and lived very comfortably because he had a pri- 
 vate income. But in a fatal moment he was induced 
 
CONFIDENCE 197 
 
 to invest all lie had in the Big Chief gold mine out 
 west. Every one was talking about it and what a 
 splendid investment it was. We were sure that in a 
 few months we would be very rich. But you know what 
 happened to that. There was bad management some- 
 where, the works shut down, and so many people were 
 ruined. ,, 
 
 "Indeed I know, ,, Douglas emphatically replied. "I 
 was bitten, too, and lost my all. It wasn't much, to be 
 sure, but it meant a great deal to me." 
 
 "It was ruin to us," Nell continued. "For a while 
 I thought father would go out of his mind, he felt so 
 badly. Then, to add to our trouble, Nan became ill, 
 and it took our last dollar to pay the doctor and other 
 expenses. At length, we were forced to mortgage the 
 place to Mr. Stubbles to pay our grocery bill which had 
 grown so large. It is that which has been hanging over 
 our home like a terrible cloud for several years now. ' ' 
 
 Nell paused and looked out over the water. The glow 
 of evening touched her face and soft hair, and made 
 her seem to the young man watching her as if she were 
 not of this earth, so beautiful did she appear. What 
 right had such a woman to be troubled ? he asked him- 
 self. How he longed to do something to help her. 
 
 "So you came to the rescue, and started farming." 
 
 "There was nothing else to do," she smilingly replied. 
 "I felt the responsibility, and had to do something. I 
 didn't know much about gardening at first, and made 
 many mistakes. But we have managed to live, pay the 
 interest on the mortgage and part of the principal. 
 But we are in danger of losing everything now," she 
 added with a note of sadness in her voice. 
 
198 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "You see, the mortgage was due the first of July, 
 and it should have been paid then. But we did not have 
 the money, not even enough to pay the interest. Our 
 garden did not do very well last year, and the winter 
 was a hard one. After we had paid father's life in- 
 surance, there was very little left. We did not know 
 what to do and were greatly depressed. It was then 
 that father went with Nan to the city and played on 
 the streets. I knew nothing about it until they came 
 home with the money they received through your kind- 
 ness. We were thus enabled to pay the interest on 
 the mortgage, as well as our grocery bill at the store. 
 You little realise how grateful we are to you for what 
 you did for us." 
 
 "I have never been so thankful for anything I ever 
 did," Douglas earnestly replied. "Little did I realise 
 that night when I stopped to watch your father play, 
 what the outcome of my act would be. But now that 
 the interest is paid, how is it that you are in danger 
 of losing your home?" 
 
 "Simply because Mr. Stubbles wants the money. It 
 is only a small amount now, and by another summer 
 we could have it all paid." 
 
 "But surely Stubbles doesn't need the money. I 
 understand that he is very rich." 
 
 "I am not so certain about that. There have been 
 rumours abroad for some time now that he is not as 
 rich as people imagine, and that he is having some dif- 
 ficulty in carrying on his business. Anyway, when I 
 went to see him about the mortgage, he told me in no 
 gentle way that he must have the money and at once. 
 
CONFIDENCE 199 
 
 If not, he said he would foreclose and sell the place. 
 But he has not done so yet." 
 
 "Why?" Douglas asked the question eagerly. He 
 believed that he knew the reason now, and if his sur- 
 mise were true it would explain something which had 
 puzzled and worried him for days past. 
 
 "He has been waiting, that is all," Nell's voice was 
 low as she spoke. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, 
 and a deep, rich flush was mantling her cheeks and 
 brow. Then she lifted 'her head and spoke with con- 
 siderable embarrassment. "Yes, he has been waiting," 
 she repeated, "waiting for something to happen. It all 
 depended upon that." 
 
 "I know. He has been waiting to see what answer 
 you would give to Ben. Is that it?" 
 
 "Yes, that's it." 
 
 "And you have refused him?" 
 
 "Couldn't you tell that by what happened this af- 
 ternoon ? ' ' 
 
 "Certainly. But I wished to hear it from your own 
 lips. And so you think Stubbles will be very angry 
 and will foreclose at once?" 
 
 "There is no doubt about it. I am sure that he will. 
 Ben will see to that. I am afraid you do not know 
 the Stubbles yet. They will stop at nothing, especially 
 the men." 
 
 "I think I know something, more perhaps than you 
 realise," and a slight smile flitted across Douglas' face. 
 "And I believe I know now," he added, "why you 
 met Ben by the old tree. There was so much at stake 
 that you did not wish to offend him. ' ' 
 
 "You have guessed right. Oh, it was terrible! I 
 like a hypocrite all the time, iuid yet I had not 
 
200 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 the courage to refuse meeting him for fear of what 
 would happen/ ' 
 
 "But you had the courage at last, though?" 
 "It was only when I could stand him no longer. I 
 knew for some time that he was not a good man, but 
 his actions of late have so disgusted me beyond all 
 bounds of endurance that I refused to have anything 
 more to do with him. There, I have told you all, and 
 I feel greatly relieved. " 
 
 "I suppose you hardly know what you will do if you 
 lose your place. Is there not some one from whom 
 you could borrow enough money to pay off the mort- 
 
 gage 
 
 "I am afraid not. We have no security to give, and, 
 besides, I dread the thought of asking for help. Father 
 will be almost heartbroken, and it will make him more 
 bitter than ever." 
 
 "At what?" 
 
 "The Church and all connected with it. Mr. Stub- 
 bles has been a warden here for years, and the way 
 he has acted has been partly the cause of father's 
 bitter feelings. Now he will be worse than ever. I 
 wonder what the new clergyman will be like." 
 
 "Perhaps he may be able to settle matters." 
 
 " I am afraid not. He will have to do as the Stubbles 
 say or leave, just as the others did. If he should hap- 
 pen to be a very strong-minded man and will stand 
 ,up for justice and right, he will have a most difficult 
 time of it. In that case, father would be his firm friend, 
 though I fear he could do but little to help him." 
 
 "His moral assistance would mean much, though, 
 would it not?" 
 
 "Perhaps so," and Nell sighed. "But I think I must 
 
CONFIDENCE 201 
 
 go home now. Father and Nan will be wondering what 
 has kept me. Won 't you come and see father ? I know 
 he wants to talk to you about his book. I am thank- 
 ful he has something to occupy his mind." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 OUTDONE 
 
 WHEN they reached the house, they found Nan 
 up in arms. She scolded Nell for being away 
 so long and leaving her to get supper and wash the 
 dishes. 
 
 "I don't think it is fair/' she pouted. "You go 
 off and have a good time, while I must stay home and 
 drudge like a slave.' ' 
 
 "You do not look any the worse for it," Douglas 
 laughingly told her. "It seems to agree with you. I 
 never saw you look better." 
 
 "H'm," and Nan tossed her head. "It may agree 
 with my complexion but not with my temper. The 
 only way you can make me good natured is to have a 
 game of checkers with me. I am just dying for a game. 
 No one here will play with me. It's too giddy, I sup- 
 pose. I'm sure it's much nicer than Shakespeare — he's 
 too dry. Why, I've been reading to daddy for the last 
 hour, and I can't remember one word." 
 
 The professor was most anxious to discuss his book, 
 but Nan insisted on checkers first. 
 
 "I have a right to my own way for once," she in- 
 sisted. "You promised me long ago that I could have 
 Mr. Handyman to myself the next time he came. But, 
 no, it was Shakespeare and Church matters, and so I 
 was pushed aside." 
 
 202 
 
OUTDONE 203 
 
 They all laughed heartily at her words and gestures, 
 and the professor at last agreed that they should play 
 two games. Then he had something important to say. 
 
 "With Nan's animated face beaming over the hoard, 
 and Nell sitting quietly sewing by the table, it was a 
 most enjoyable evening to Douglas. But the professor 
 was not so happy. The minutes dragged heavily, so 
 when the players had won a game each, he gave a sigh 
 of relief and claimed Douglas' special attention. 
 
 "I wish to discuss several points in the tragedy of 
 Hamlet," he began. "I am not altogether sure in my 
 own mind, and would like to have your opinion." 
 
 Though Douglas had studied Hamlet at college, yet 
 he felt very diffident about discussing the "several 
 points, ' ' which he felt sure would be difficult ones. But 
 as the professor began to talk, he knew that his opinion 
 would not be necessary. Once launched upon his sub- 
 ject, the old man seemed to imagine that he was once 
 more in the class room. Several times he asked Nell 
 to read certain extracts from his notes, and upon these 
 he always enlarged. It was pathetic to observe his in- 
 tense eagerness, and he was certain that his visitor 
 was keenly interested in his subject. 
 
 It was well for him that he could not see into the 
 hearts and minds of the others in the room. Nan was 
 lost in a story book she had borrowed from a girl friend 
 that very afternoon; while Nell's thoughts were not 
 upon the wonders of Shakespeare, but upon the events 
 of the day. Douglas tried to pay strict attention to 
 what 'ng said, though his eyes would often wan- 
 
 der to the young woman sewing just in front of him. 
 He noted the varying expressions upon her face, and 
 he intuitively surmised something of what she was 
 
204 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 thinking. How he longed to be talking with her and 
 listening to her as it had been his privilege that after- 
 noon. Could she ever care for him? he asked himself 
 just at the very instant when the professor was waxing 
 eloquent about Shakespeare as an artist. He tried to 
 listen, but the force of the words of wisdom were lost 
 upon him. The professor, however, was pleased, and 
 as Douglas rose to go he told him how delightful had 
 been their conversation, and that the several points 
 which had been troubling him were quite clear. 
 
 Douglas ' heart was happy and his step light and elas- 
 tic as he left the house. He thought over what Nell 
 had told him, and her confidence in him gave him great 
 joy. He valued this far more than the explanation she 
 had volunteered about her family affairs. She trusted 
 him and turned to him for sympathy. Little wonder, 
 then, that his face glowed and his eyes shone with rap- 
 ture. It was all a new experience to him, and life 
 seemed very pleasant. 
 
 He was roused from this reverie by the sound of 
 angry voices. He stopped and listened intently. They 
 were evidently men, quarrelling on the road ahead of 
 him, though he could not distinguish what they were 
 saying. The fact that they were talking so loudly 
 made him feel that they were not there with any evil 
 designs. Nevertheless, he felt that it was just as well 
 to find out what was the trouble, and at the same time 
 remain out of sight. 
 
 Along the road ran a hedge of thick bushes, and, 
 keeping well within the dark fringe of these, Douglas 
 slowly advanced. He could hear the talking more 
 plainly now, and ere long he was able to tell that the 
 men were under the influence of liquor. Their voices 
 
OUTDONE 205 
 
 were maudlin, and they were wrangling with one an- 
 other in a somewhat petulant and childish manner. 
 
 "I tell ye he is," he heard one say. 
 
 "He ain't," another retorted. 
 
 "Yes, he is, ye blame fool." 
 
 "He ain't." 
 
 "Shet up ye'r jawin'," a third ordered. "Ye'r both 
 drunk. Sure he's there. Wasn't he seen goin' into 
 the house?" 
 
 "Well, 111 be darned if I'm goin' to wait any 
 longer," the first speajker whined. "I'm tired an' 
 
 sleepy, an' want to go home. I wish to G that Ben 
 
 would do his own dirty work." 
 
 "Ye liked his whiskey well enough, didn't ye?" his 
 companion asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, that's all right, but there wasn't enough 
 of it." 
 
 "Too much fer you, though. Why, it's gone to ye'r 
 head, an ' has made yer tongue like a mill-clapper. Ye 'd 
 better shet ye'r mouth or the guy '11 hear ye an* take 
 to his heels before we kin lay hands on him." 
 
 "I ain't talkin' any, am I? Watcher growlin' 'bout? 
 I'm goin' home." 
 
 "No, ye ain't." 
 
 "Yes, I am." 
 
 A scuffle followed these words, and Douglas could 
 dimly see the forms of the two men as they rolled and 
 tumbled about on the ground. Then some one pulled 
 them apart and administered a resounding cuff upon 
 their ears. 
 
 "Stop fighting ye fools," was the peremptory order. 
 "De'ye want to spoil the whole show to-night?" 
 
 "Who's spoilin' the show?" 
 
206 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "You are." 
 
 "I ain't. I want to go home. I'm sick of this busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "Ye'r not goin' till the guy comes, I tell ye." 
 
 "When's he comin'?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "He'll stay there till midnight. They always do. 
 I never got home till mornin' when I was courtin', an* 
 Sal wasn't half as sweet as the 'fessor's daughter. 
 Gad, she's a peach!" 
 
 "Ye'r no judge of beauty, Tom Fleet," was the re- 
 tort. "You'd kiss a cow when ye'r drunk, thinkin' 
 she's beautiful." 
 
 "I ain't drunk, I tell ye." 
 
 "Ye are." 
 
 "I ain't; I'm only sleepy an' want to go home." 
 
 "Well, ye ain't goin' till the guy comes." 
 
 "Then I'm goin' to fetch him." 
 
 "Now, ye'r talkin'. That's the stuff, Tom. Well 
 take him from his lady love. Come on." 
 
 "Wait a minute," one of the bunch ordered. "How 11 
 we do it?" 
 
 What their plan was Douglas could not tell, for their 
 voices suddenly became low as they made their plans. 
 But it did not matter. He knew that they were after 
 him, and most likely would go to the house and do con- 
 siderable harm. He must have assistance, and he at 
 once thought of Jake. With him at his side, he felt 
 that the men before him could be mastered, especially 
 in their present condition. 
 
 Creeping through the bushes as quietly as possible, 
 he reached the open field and across this he bounded like 
 a greyhound. He knew that every minute was pre- 
 
OUTDONE 207 
 
 cious, and the thought of Nell facing those drunken 
 men caused his feet fairly to spurn the grass. Reach- 
 ing the main road, he tore through the dust, sprang 
 over a ditch, leaped a fence, raced through the orchard 
 and ran plumb into Jake and Empty standing at the 
 back door. 
 
 " Great punkins!" Jake exclaimed, recovering from 
 the impact. ' ' What 's wrong ? ' ' 
 
 "Quick, quick!" Douglas panted. "Come at once. 
 Ben's men are after me. They think I'm at the pro- 
 fessor's, and they are going to break into the house. 
 Hurry." 
 
 "G-g-good Lord" Jake stuttered in amazement. "Let 
 me git me gun ! ' ' 
 
 "No, no, never mind that; your fists will do. Come." 
 
 Without waiting for further parley, Douglas darted 
 away, with Jake and Empty close at his heels. He did 
 not go to the spot where he had left the men but kept 
 off into the middle of the field, and ran down opposite 
 the professor's house. Then turning sharply to the 
 left, he hurried across to the garden and stopped be- 
 fore the row of bushes which ran almost to the shore. 
 
 The rescuers were not a moment too soon, for the at- 
 tackers had already reached the house and were pound- 
 ing loudly upon the back door. When it presently 
 slowly opened, Douglas could hear Nell's voice anx- 
 iously enquiring what was the matter. 
 
 "Give us the guy who's here," one of the men de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Who?" Nell asked in surprise. 
 
 "Oh, you know, all right. The feller that's courtin' 
 ye; Jake's man." 
 
 Douglas' hands clenched hard together as he listened 
 
208 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 to these words, and it was with difficulty that he re- 
 strained himself. It would not do to rush forth just 
 then. He must wait for the men's next move. He 
 could not see the features of Nell's face very plainly, 
 but the words she uttered in reply to the impudent 
 order told of her indignation. 
 
 ■ ' How dare you come here with such a request ? ' ' she 
 demanded. "Leave this place at once or I shall have 
 you all arrested. I am surprised at you, Tom Totten. 
 What will your wife say? Go home at once, and leave 
 me alone." 
 
 "No, we don't," was the surly reply. "We're under 
 orders, an' we won't leave until we git our man. Ye've 
 got him in the house, so hustle him out an' be quick 
 about it." 
 
 "He is not here," Nell replied. "And even if he 
 were, I wouldn't let you touch him. You have all been 
 drinking, that is what's the matter with you. I am 
 ashamed of you all. Go away at once before you make 
 fools of yourselves." 
 
 1 ' We won 't go, I tell ye, before we git our man. We 
 know he's in the house, an' we're goin' to git him." 
 
 Nell's only reply was to turn quickly and shut the 
 door in their faces. Then a hubbub arose. 
 
 "Smash in the door," cried one. 
 
 "Break in the winder," ordered another. 
 
 Then a rush was made against the door, which gave 
 way with a crash, and the men stumbled into the kitchen 
 where Nell was standing. 
 
 As the door went through, Douglas and his com- 
 panions sprang from their hiding place, bounded to- 
 ward the house and fell upon the attackers like a whirl- 
 
OUTDONE 20£ 
 
 wind. Douglas' blood was up, and he delivered tell- 
 ing blows to right and left. 
 
 "Here I am," he cried, as he gave Tom Totten a 
 punch under the ear, which sent him reeling across the 
 room. "Why don't you take me? I am the man you 
 want. Now is your chance. ,, 
 
 Jake and Empty nobly supported him, and in a few 
 minutes the room was cleared of all the attackers ex- 
 cept two who were sprawling upon the floor. Their 
 noses were bleeding and they were groaning most dole- 
 fully. The others had made good their escape, though 
 not without serious injury, for their faces were cut and 
 bleeding, and they limped as they hurried away from 
 the scene of their defeat. 
 
 "Great punkins!" Jake exclaimed. "Is it all over? 
 I was jist beginnin' when everything stopped. Hi, 
 there, Tom Totten/' he cried, as he tickled the de- 
 feated man's ribs with the toe of his boot, "so this 
 is the way ye spend ye'r evenin's, eh? Why don't ye 
 git up an' let us see what a purty face ye have? It 
 never was much to look at, though I guess it's a sight 
 fer sore eyes now. Ho, ho, this is the best lark I've 
 had in years, hey, Empty?" 
 
 "Ye bet," and the lad smacked his lips. "Did ye 
 see the way I landed one on Jim Parks' nose? It was 
 a bruiser. I bet he's rubbin' it yit an' roarin' like a 
 bull. My, it was great! I'm sorry it was over so soon." 
 
 But Nell had no such feelings of regret. She was 
 standing in the door leading into the hallway. Her 
 face was very white, and her body was trembling. By 
 her side stood Nan, her face beaming and her eyes 
 sparkling with animation. 
 
 "It's just like a story," she exclaimed, clasping her 
 
210 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 hands before her. ' ' It 's far better than a picture show, 
 for this is real, isn't it, Nell?" 
 
 So unexpected was this view of the situation, that 
 they all laughed except the two men on the floor. 
 
 "Ye'r a brick, all right, Nell," Jake remarked. "I 
 like ye'r pluck. Now, some gals would have yelled an' 
 hollered an' tumbled down in a faint. But that's not 
 the way with the gals of this house," and he cast a 
 glance of admiration at Nell. 
 
 Douglas had now stepped to Tom's side and was 
 bending over him. 
 
 "Get up," he ordered, "and explain the meaning of 
 all this." 
 
 Tom slowly obeyed, crawled to his knees and then to 
 his feet. His companion, Pete Rollins, did the same. 
 They presented a sorry spectacle, and Douglas could 
 scarcely repress a smile. But Nan laughed outright 
 when she saw them. 
 
 "My, what beauties!" she exclaimed. "This isn't 
 Hallowe'en, Tom. Did you think it was? You'll know 
 better next time, won't you?" 
 
 " 'Deed I will, miss," was the emphatic reply. "No 
 more sich doin's fer me, I tell ye that." 
 
 Nell in the meantime had procured a basin of water, 
 a wash-cloth and a towel. She now stood before the 
 battered men. 
 
 "Sit down, both of you," she quietly ordered. "It 
 won't do for you to go home looking that way." 
 
 Meekly they obeyed and sat very still while she 
 washed the blood from their faces. 
 
 "It's good of ye, miss," Tom told her. "We don't 
 deserve sich kindness after what we said an' done to 
 
OUTDONE 211 
 
 you to-night. Some would have kicked us out of the 
 house an' left us there half dead." 
 
 "You, fer instance, Nan, eh?" Empty grinned, as he 
 looked toward the girl. 
 
 "No, I wouldn't," Nan stoutly protested. "That 
 would have been too good for them. I would like to 
 keep them and start a travelling show throughout the 
 country. I would make my fortune in a short time. 
 They deserve to be treated like that for disturbing my 
 peaceful slumbers. And just look at that door, all 
 broken down. Who 's going to fix it, I 'd like to know ? ' ' 
 
 "I'll fix it, miss," Pete eagerly replied. "I'll come 
 to-morrow an' make it as good as new." 
 
 "No, you won't. You'll be in jail; that's where 
 you'll be." 
 
 "Hush, hush, Nan," Nell ordered, though she found 
 it hard not to smile at the frightened look which came 
 into Pete's eyes. "Don't mind Nan, Pete. She isn't 
 as terrible as she sounds." 
 
 "Yes, she is," Empty insisted. "She kin use her 
 hands as well as her tongue. I know it, fer she 's often 
 boxed my ears." 
 
 " H'm ! " and Nan tossed her head disdainfully. ' ' If 
 you'd been a man I would have done more than that; 
 I would have blackened your eyes, and " 
 
 "There, there, Nan, that will do," Nell interrupted, 
 and from the tone of her voice Nan knew that she must 
 obey. With a sigh of resignation she stood with her 
 eyes fixed upon the floor and her hands clasped before 
 her, unheeding Empty, who was grinning at her on the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 "Guess we'd better go now," Tom remarked when 
 had finished her ablutions. "It must be purty 
 
212 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 late. But afore I go I wish to ask ye'r pardon, miss," 
 and he turned to Nell as he spoke. "I wasn't jist me- 
 self to-night, an' I guess the rest were in the same 
 fix." 
 
 "A moment, Tom," and Douglas laid his hand upon 
 his shoulder. ' ' I want you to tell us why you and your 
 companions made this attack to-night." 
 
 "To git you, of course. Didn't ye know that?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed I did, but I wanted to hear you say so. 
 Now, what did you want to get me for? What harm 
 have I done to you or to the men who were with you?" 
 
 "None, none at all. But, ye see, we were under or- 
 ders. We were told to come." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 "Ben Stubbles." 
 
 "What did he tell you to do?" 
 
 "Lay fer ye by the road, an' give ye a thorough 
 hidin'." 
 
 "Didn't you feel ashamed to undertake such a cow- 
 ardly thing as that?" 
 
 "We did, an' we refused at first, an' told him that 
 we didn't want to git into any trouble. But he prom- 
 ised that he would stand by an' take the hull blame. 
 When we still refused, he threatened us, an' when that 
 wouldn't work he produced the whiskey." 
 
 "Now, will you swear to all this?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Swear! sure I will. I'll swear to them very words 
 anywhere an' at any time. Won't ye, Pete?" 
 
 "Ay, ay," was the reply. "I'll swear any old time, 
 an' I feel mighty like swearin' jist now, 'deed I do." 
 
 "But what will Ben say?" Douglas asked. "Won't 
 he make it hot for you?" 
 
 "Let him make it hot, then," Pete declared. "I 
 
OUTDONE 213 
 
 don 't have to stay here an ' work f er old Stubbles. I 
 kin go somewhere else, an' mebbe it will be jist as well 
 if I do." 
 
 "Yv r ho were the other men with you to-night besides 
 Pete ? It is important that we should have their names. ' ' 
 
 "D'ye mind if I don't tell ye now, sir?" and Tom 
 lifted his eyes to Douglas' face. "They're all friends 
 of mine, an' I'd hate to squeal on 'em." 
 
 "But you didn't mind telling on Ben, did you?" 
 
 "Oh, that's different. He ain't a friend of mine, an' 
 never was. He's big feelin' an' mighty, an' has no 
 use fer the likes of me, unless he's got some axe to 
 grind. Oh, no, I don't mind squealin' on the likes of 
 him." 
 
 "But we must have the names of the men who were 
 with you to-night," Douglas insisted. "I cannot help 
 whether you like it or not." 
 
 "Look, sir, I'll tell ye this: Whenever ye want me 
 an' Pete, well be there, an' we'll have the rest with 
 us." 
 
 "But perhaps they won't come, what then?" 
 
 "Don't ye worry a mite about that. They'll come 
 all right. But supposin' they buck an' won't come, 
 then I'll tell ye their names. I'll give 'em fair warnin', 
 an' if they don't come I'll squeal on 'em then, but not 
 before. Will that do, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," Douglas assented. "But don't 
 you fail to come when you 're called. We have all these 
 witnesses to what you have said to-night. You may 
 go now." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 COMPELLED TO SERVE 
 
 DOUGLAS and his companions stayed for some 
 time after Tom and Pete left. There was much 
 to talk about, and Nell had to go upstairs to explain 
 everything to her father who was greatly agitated over 
 the unusual disturbance. Then, there was the door to 
 be fixed, and it took Jake a full half hour to get it 
 mended. 
 
 1 * There, I guess that will stand f er a while, ' ' he com- 
 mented, as he stood back and viewed his work. 
 
 4 'I thought Pete was going to do it," Douglas re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Mebbe he would an' mebbe he wouldn't. But most 
 likely he wouldn't. Pete would have promised almost 
 anything jist then. Anyway, the door's fixed, an' I 
 guess it's about time we were gittin' home." 
 
 Nell looked tired as they bade her good-night. Doug- 
 las knew what a trying day it had been for her, and 
 he admired her courage as she smilingly held out her 
 hand to each one of them. 
 
 1 ' I can never thank you for your kindness, ' ' she told 
 them. "It is hard to tell what might have happened 
 if you had not arrived when you did." 
 
 Douglas cherished the idea that Nell looked at him 
 differently than she did at his companions, and that 
 the clasp of her hand was firmer, and that she let it rest 
 
 2H 
 
COMPELLED TO SERVE 215 
 
 in his a second longer. He felt sure that he was not 
 mistaken, and it brought a thrill to his heart. 
 
 As the three men made their way through the night, 
 Jake kept emitting occasional exclamations, while 
 Empty gurgled forth chuckles of delight. Each was 
 giving vent in his own way to his feelings over the 
 events of the night. Douglas said nothing, but walked 
 silently by their side. He was thinking over more seri- 
 ous matters in which Ben Stubbles loomed large and 
 ominous. He believed that the struggle between him- 
 self and the Stubbles had now reached a crisis, and that 
 he was in a fair way of winning a victory over Ben, at 
 least, if he advanced carefully. 
 
 It was past midnight by the time they reached home. 
 Jake made Empty come into the house. 
 
 ' ' We 're goin ' to have something to eat, ' ' he told him, 
 "an' I know you always shine when there's any grub 
 around. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Jukes was in bed, but it did not take Jake long 
 to light the kitchen fire, boil some water, and prepare 
 a pot of tea. This, with bread and jam from the pan- 
 try, formed their midnight repast, and when they were, 
 through Jake pushed back his chair and lighted his pipe. 
 
 "Great punkins!" he exclaimed, bringing his big fist 
 down upon the table with a bang. "I wouldn't a* 
 missed that racket to-night fer anything. I wonder 
 what Ben '11 think about it all now." 
 
 "Do you suppose the men will tell him?" Douglas 
 asked. 
 
 "Sure. He knows all about it by now, I bet ye'r life. 
 Most likely he was not fer off, the skunk, watchin' the 
 hull racket. I wish to goodness I'd got the punch on 
 
216 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 his nose instead of Tom's. How I'd like to have heard 
 him squeal, ho, ho." 
 
 "What will Ben do next, do you think?" 
 
 "It's hard to tell. But he'll do something, mark 
 my word." 
 
 "Yes, if we don't do something first." 
 
 "What d'ye mean?" 
 
 1 ' Simply this, that he has been attacking long enough, 
 and it is our turn now. From what I can learn, Ben 
 and his father have been riding over people in this 
 parish rough-shod for years, and no one has had the 
 courage to oppose them. It might do them a great deal 
 of good and teach them a useful lesson if they didn't 
 have everything their own way." 
 
 "D'ye mean to buck 'em?" Jake enquired. 
 
 " I am going to do more than buck, Jake ; I am going 
 to charge. The time for defensive warfare is over; 
 it must be an offensive one now, and we are in a good 
 position after this night's racket." 
 
 "What are ye goin' to do, John? How are ye goin* 
 to charge 'em?" 
 
 "I shall tell you about that later. I am too tired 
 and sleepy now, so I am off to bed." 
 
 As Douglas rose to leave the room, Empty stepped 
 forward. He had been listening with eyes and ears 
 to all that had been said, and he grinned with delight 
 as the meaning of the offensive warfare dawned slowly 
 upon his mind. What a choice bit of news he would 
 have to tell his mother. She would forgive him for 
 being out so late when he told her all that had taken 
 place during the night. 
 
 "Ma sent me over with a message fer you," he began. 
 
 "She did, eh?" and Douglas turned and looked upon 
 
COMPELLED TO SERVE 217 
 
 the lad. "You are somewhat late in delivering it. Is 
 it very important ?" 
 
 "She wants to know if ye '11 be good enough to come 
 an' see her as soon as ye kin, an' bring yer fiddle with 
 
 ye." 
 
 "How is Jean?" Douglas asked. Owing to the excite- 
 ment of the afternoon and night he had forgotten all 
 about the sick woman. 
 
 "Oh, I guess she's jist the same," Empty replied as 
 he scratched the back of his head. "But ma '11 tell ye 
 'bout her better 'n I kin. Will ye come?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose I can if she does not want me too 
 soon. Tell your mother that I shall try to get over on 
 Sunday. I am afraid I cannot get there before. ' ' 
 
 Douglas woke about daylight and heard the rain beat- 
 ing upon the roof. How good it sounded, and he turned 
 over and went to sleep again. It was late when he once 
 more opened his eyes, and sprang out of bed. It was 
 ten o'clock, and he felt ashamed of himself for having 
 slept so long. He apologised to Mrs. Jukes when he 
 entered the kitchen, and told her that she had better 
 send him about his business at once, as he was a most 
 unprofitable servant. But Mrs. Jukes only laughed, and 
 ordered him to sit down to the table and eat his break- 
 fast, which she had kept waiting for him. 
 
 "You deserve to sleep all day," she said, "after what 
 you did last night. I have cooked the biggest fresh egg 
 I could find for your breakfast as your reward." 
 
 "So Jake has told you all about it, has he?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, he told me everything this morning, and 
 he's gone to the store to get me some starch. But he 
 went really to hear the news. He's anxious to know 
 if the word has got abroad, and what people are say- 
 
218 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 ing about it. They generally meet at the store when 
 anything of importance is to be talked about. I guess 
 all the men go to get starch, ' ' she added with a twinkle 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Jake returned from the store before Douglas had 
 finished his breakfast, and laid the package of starch 
 upon the table. 
 
 "What's the news this morning?" his wife asked, 
 noting the disappointed look upon his face. 
 
 "Nuthin'," was the disgusted reply. "Not a soul 
 in the store but the clerk." 
 
 1 ' Isn 't that strange ? " his wife questioned. 
 
 "Naw, not strange when ye come to think it over. 
 Them night prowlers wouldn't say a word; they're too 
 darn scairt an' ashamed of themselves. An' as fer Ben, 
 why he'll be as close as a clam." 
 
 "What happened to the daily paper, or the special 
 news agent, I should say?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 "Empty, of course." 
 
 "Oh, I f ergot him," and Jake laughed. "I guess he 
 overslept himself this mornin'. But he'll be on his job 
 before night, though, never fear." 
 
 "Who is the Justice of the Peace in this place?" 
 Douglas asked, as he pushed back his chair from the 
 table. 
 
 "Justice of the Peace!" Jake vaguely repeated. "I 
 don't know of any sich person in this parish." 
 
 "Yes, you do," his wife replied. "It's Squire Haw- 
 kins." 
 
 "The storekeeper?" Douglas queried. 
 
 "The very same." 
 
 "Does he ever try cases?" 
 
COMPELLED TO SERVE 219 
 
 "Try cases!" and Jake rubbed his unshaven chin, 
 while a smile lurked about the corners of his mouth. 
 "I guess the only cases he tries are the boxes which 
 come into his store." 
 
 "But isn't he called upon to decide questions, such 
 as disputes, and other matters which arise in almost 
 every parish?" 
 
 "Never heard of him doin , sich things. Si Stubbles 
 does all that." 
 
 "Is he a Justice of the Peace?" 
 
 "Oh, no, but he looks after sich affairs fer all that, 
 an' settles 'em in his own way." 
 
 "And Squire Hawkins is only a J.P. in name, then?" 
 
 "That's about it." 
 
 "Well, then, it is about time he was getting to work. 
 I shall give him a case this very afternoon. I am go- 
 ing to lay a complaint before him about last night's 
 affair." 
 
 "Ye are?" Jake asked in surprise. "I wish ye luck, 
 but I'm afraid ye won't accomplish much." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "H'm, that's easy to explain. Hen Hawkins is un- 
 der Si Stubbles' thumb. He won't tech the case 'cause 
 he's afraid of Si." 
 
 "What has Si to do with it?" 
 
 "A great deal, if I'm not mistaken. Him an' Ben 
 are both at the bottom of last night's racket, mark my 
 word. Hen would be scairt most to death to do any- 
 thing that would uncover their doin's. He'll be afraid 
 of losing' Si's trade. Oh, no, I guess ye won't git very 
 fer with Hen Hawkins, even though he is a J.P." 
 
 Douglas said nothing more about the affair just then, 
 though what he had heard made him more determined 
 
220 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 than ever. He was learning more and more what a 
 grip Simon Stubbles had over Rixton, and this added 
 to the spirit of adventure which thrilled his soul. Even 
 the Justice of the Peace was forced to bow to Si's 
 authority. 
 
 Early that afternoon Douglas went to the store and 
 enquired for Squire Hawkins. 
 
 "You will find him at his house,' ' the clerk informed 
 him. "He has not returned from his dinner yet." 
 
 Douglas noticed several men in the store who ceased 
 their earnest conversation as he entered. He surmised 
 what they were talking about, as no doubt the news 
 was already abroad. The men listened very attentively 
 as Douglas questioned the clerk, and they watched him 
 curiously. 
 
 Douglas had seen the storekeeper on several occasions 
 but had never met him personally. A common farm- 
 hand was beneath the notice of such a man as Squire 
 Hawkins, who prided himself upon his acquaintance 
 with men of money and position. He was a small-sized 
 man, fussy, and pompous to those he considered his in- 
 feriors. He did not even show common courtesy as 
 Douglas was shown into the room where he was seated 
 in an easy chair reading the daily paper. He did not 
 even rise to receive his visitor, but in a gruff voice asked 
 him what he wanted. 
 
 "You are a Justice of the Peace, so I understand," 
 Douglas began. 
 
 "Yes, and what of it?" 
 
 As briefly and concisely as possible Douglas stated his 
 case. He told about the two attacks which had been 
 made upon his person, and of the breaking into Pro- 
 fessor Strong's house. 
 
COMPELLED TO SERVE 221 
 
 "Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Squire 
 Hawkins curtly asked. 
 
 "You should know without my telling you," Doug- 
 las replied. He was becoming nettled at this man's 
 insolence. 
 
 "What, what's that you say?" 
 
 "As a Justice of the Peace you must surely know 
 your business. I have told you what has happened, 
 and now I lay a complaint before you against threa 
 men, though others are implicated in the matter." 
 
 1 ' Why don 't you go to Mr. Stubbles ? He always set* 
 ties such matters. ' ' 
 
 "Mr. Stubbles has nothing to do with this affair. 
 He is not a Justice of the Peace. You are, though, and 
 it is to you I look for justice." 
 
 1 * But I have never handled a case in my life. I don 't 
 know what to do. ' ' 
 
 "Then it is time you began. Why did you accept 
 the office if you know nothing about it?" 
 
 "Look here," and the Squire's face became red witK 
 anger. "I don't wish for you to dictate to me in that 
 manner. Who are you, anyway?" 
 
 "I am John Handyman, working for Jake Jukes at 
 present. ' ' 
 
 "H'm. And so you expect me to bother my head 
 about you?" 
 
 "I certainly do, and what is more, I shall see that 
 you do it, even though I am only a hired man." 
 
 Something in Douglas' voice and bearing made an im- 
 pression upon Squire Hawkins. He squirmed uneasily 
 in his chair and his face grew redder than ever. 
 
 1 * Confound it all ! " he growled. ' ' Why do you bother 
 me with this matter? What reason had the men to 
 
222 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 attack you? They were only sky-larking, no doubt. 
 Having a bit of fun, most likely. ' ' 
 
 "Mighty poor fun for me, though, especially when 
 the cudgels fell upon my head. I don't like such fun, 
 and I want you to take steps to stop it in the future.'* 
 
 "Who are the men?" the Squire asked. 
 
 "I only know the names of three at present. They 
 are Tom Totten, Pete Rollins and Ben Stubbles." 
 
 "Ben Stubbles!" Squire Hawkins exclaimed in sur- 
 prise. "Surely you don't expect me to take action 
 against him?" 
 
 "I certainly do." 
 
 "But did he attack you last night?" 
 
 "No, not in person, but he was the one who supplied 
 the liquor to the men, and ordered them to waylay 
 and beat me." 
 
 Squire Hawkins did not at once reply to these words. 
 He was lost in thought and seemed somewhat worried. 
 His brow knitted, and his small crafty eyes became like 
 two narrow slits. 
 
 "I am afraid I can't do anything for you," he at 
 length replied. "It's utterly impossible for me to un- 
 dertake your case." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 "Oh, there are personal reasons which I do not care 
 to explain." 
 
 "Fear of the Stubbles, eh?" 
 
 ' ' They are good customers of mine. I would not like 
 to offend them." 
 
 1 ' And you are a Justice of the Peace, a man appointed 
 in the King's name to preserve law and order, and yet 
 unwilling to see that justice is done for fear of having 
 
COMPELLED TO SERVE 223 
 
 your trade injured.' ' Douglas spoke emphatically, and 
 his words caused Squire Hawkins to wince. 
 
 "You have no business to talk to me that way," he 
 roared. "If you are not satisfied with me get some- 
 body else to attend to your affairs." 
 
 "Do you mean it?" Douglas asked. "Do I under- 
 stand you to say that you will have nothing to do with 
 this case, and that I must get some one else ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, that's exactly what I mean." 
 
 "Very well, then, I shall take you at your word. 
 But remember, I have appealed to you who have been 
 legally appointed by the Crown. You have refused 
 to act in this case. You have refused to see justice 
 done to an innocent man. Do you know what that 
 means? If not, then it is your duty to know. I shall 
 not ask you again to assist me. I am going to the city, 
 and one of the ablest lawyers there is a special friend 
 of mine. I shall place the matter in his hands, and 
 you will be forced to abide by the consequences." 
 
 Douglas turned and had almost reached the door 
 when Squire Hawkins leaped suddenly from his chair. 
 
 "Wait a minute," he ordered. "I want to have a 
 few more words with you." 
 
 "What is the sense of our talking any more?" Doug- 
 las asked in reply. "You refuse to conduct this case 
 and what is the use of wasting my time?" 
 
 "But perhaps something might be done yet. I feel 
 that I might comply with your request and see this 
 affair through." 
 
 "And you will summon those men and try the case 
 yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, to the best of my ability." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
224 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "In the hall at the Corner, of course.' ' 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Will Monday at three o'clock do? That will give 
 me time to serve the summons for the men to appear." 
 
 "Yes, that will suit me as well as any time. You 
 must summon the witnesses as well. I shall give you 
 their names. It will be just as well to write them down 
 so as to make no mistake." 
 
 Douglas was somewhat surprised at the readiness of 
 Squire Hawkins to comply with his suggestions. He 
 did not know the man or he would not have felt so sat- 
 isfied. Had he really known what was in his mind, 
 he would have had nothing more to do with him after 
 his first refusal. He was to learn, however, of his mis- 
 take later. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DISPELLING THE CLOUDS 
 
 DURING the night the clouds rolled away, and 
 Sunday morning dawned warm and clear. It 
 was good to be abroad, so Douglas thought, as he walked 
 along the road with his violin under his arm. It would 
 soon be time for the shoe-maker to begin his morning 
 service, and he knew how Joe and his wife would enjoy 
 a little music. He had not seen the former since Fri- 
 day afternoon, and he was most anxious to learn the 
 outcome of his struggle between right and wrong. 
 
 He found Mrs. Benton in the sitting-room, rocking 
 herself to and fro in a splint-bottom chair. Her face 
 was thin and care-worn, and her hair seemed whiter 
 than the last time he had seen her, and he truthfully 
 divined the cause. 
 
 Mrs. Benton's face brightened as her visitor entered 
 the room, and she at once offered him a chair. 
 
 "It is good of you to come this morning, sir," she 
 told him. 
 
 "I did not wish to miss the service," Douglas replied. 
 "I thought you might like me to play a little," and he 
 pointed to the violin which he had placed upon the 
 table. 
 
 "I fear there will be no service this morning," and 
 a troubled expression came into Mrs. Benton's eyes as 
 she spoke. "Joe's been very strange of late, and has 
 
 225 
 
226 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 not been able to settle down to his work. He can't eat 
 nor sleep, and I am greatly worried about him." 
 
 "He is grieving, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, about poor Jean." 
 
 "Has he seen her lately?" 
 
 "Not since Friday. He may have gone to see her 
 this morning, though, for he left here about half an 
 hour ago, but he didn't tell me where he was going. 
 He seems like a man in a dream." 
 
 "He didn't go down the road, Mrs. Benton, or I 
 should have seen him. I was sitting in front of Jake's 
 house reading for some time before I left to come here. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, he didn't go that way, sir. There is a short- 
 cut across the hills, though it has not been used much 
 of late. The path goes up just in front of our house 
 to the top of the hill, and then turns to the left. Joe 
 took that this morning, though I do not know why, as he 
 has not travelled that way for years. Perhaps he 
 wishes to be alone. I hope he is not going to do any- 
 thing desperate. He is so down-hearted and strange 
 that I feel terribly worried about him." 
 
 "I am going over to Mrs. Dempster's to-day," Doug- 
 las replied, "as she sent word for me to come and see 
 her as soon as possible. I might as well go across the 
 hills if you think I can find my way. Perhaps I shall 
 meet your husband." 
 
 1 ' That will be very good of you, ' ' and Mrs. Benton 's 
 face somewhat brightened. "You should have no 
 trouble about finding the way, for as soon as you reach 
 the top of the hill you will obtain a splendid view of 
 the river and the surrounding country. Even if you 
 cannot find any path up there, you ought to be able 
 to see Mrs. Dempster's house off in the distance." 
 
DISPELLING THE CLOUDS 227 
 
 "I shall make out all right, I am sure," Douglas 
 replied, as he rose to go. "I have never been out on 
 the hills, so it will be nice to get the view from the 
 top." 
 
 He found the climb a long and tiresome one. The 
 hot sun seemed to strike the hillside with extra in- 
 tensity, and there was not a breath of wind abroad. 
 Once he sat down under the shade of an old fir tree 
 and mopped his hot face with his handkerchief. Even 
 from here the view of the river was magnificent, and 
 what must it be from the summit? 
 
 When at length he gained the top, he stopped and 
 looked around. Then an exclamation of surprise and 
 awe burst from his lips at the entrancing panorama 
 which was thus suddenly presented to his view. Miles 
 and miles of the river, unruffled by a breath of wind, 
 lay glittering in the sunshine. Acres of meadow land, 
 dotted with houses, and broken by tracts of forest, 
 stretched out before him. Peace was upon land and 
 river. It was a magic world upon which he gazed with 
 the ardent soul of a lover of things beautiful and grand. 
 
 Having thus rested and revelled in Nature's mar- 
 vellous handiwork, he turned and looked across the 
 hills toward Mrs. Dempster's house. As he did so his 
 eyes caught sight of a lone figure sitting upon a rock 
 some distance away. Feeling sure that it was the shoe- 
 maker, he hurried forward and in a few minutes was 
 by his side. Joe did not seem at all surprised at the 
 young man's presence, although his weary face bright- 
 ened a little. 
 
 "It is a great view from here," Douglas began. "I 
 have never seen anything like it." 
 
 "What do you see?" the old man asked. 
 
228 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Why, the river, and that fine stretch of country to 
 the right and left." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose you're right, though I have not no- 
 ticed them this morning. I have been seeing other 
 things." 
 
 "What things?" Douglas enquired, as he sat down 
 upon the rock by Joe's side. 
 
 "Jean, of course. My Jean and all her troubles are 
 ever before me. I can see nothing else. How can I?" 
 
 "But you should, Mr. Benton. Surely you have not 
 forgotten?" 
 
 "Forgotten what?" 
 
 "The strength which has been your stay for long 
 years. You remember how sad and dreary was the 
 world yesterday. How dismal everything appeared, 
 with not a glimpse of the blue sky. But look now at all 
 this," and Douglas threw out his hand in an eloquent 
 gesture. ' ' See what a change has taken place in a short 
 time. The greyness is gone, and look how blue is the 
 sky, and how bright and warm the sun. Surely He who 
 is able to effect such a marvellous change in Nature 
 in such a few hours, will not forsake His servant in the 
 hour of need. Cheer up, sir, and do not be so down- 
 hearted. Though things seem dark now, yet hope for 
 the best, and trust that the clouds will scatter and the 
 shadows will flee away." 
 
 1 ' Your words are full of wisdom, ' ' Joe slowly replied, 
 "and you speak like a man who has known trouble. 
 But have you ever experienced a father's sorrow at the 
 loss of a darling child? Can you look back through 
 the years and see that child pure and beautiful, loving 
 and true, making the home ring with her happy laugh- 
 ter and joyous ways? Then at last to see her degraded, 
 
DISPELLING THE CLOUDS 229 
 
 half-demented, a total wreck, with all parental love 
 crushed out of her heart like my Jean over there? 
 Have you known any sorrow like that, young man?" 
 
 "No, indeed I have not," Douglas emphatically re- 
 plied. "Your trouble is truly great. But why give 
 up in despair? Jean is still alive, and she may yet re- 
 turn to her former ways. She is in the depths now, but 
 this Valley of Achor may be to her a door of hope, as 
 it was to the woman we read of in the Bible. Sup- 
 pose we visit her now, and learn how she is getting 
 along? She may have changed as much since you saw 
 her last as Nature has changed since yesterday." 
 
 Douglas rose to his feet and picked up his violin. 
 
 1 ' Come, ' ' and he laid his hand affectionately upon the 
 old man's shoulder, "let us go together. We may be 
 able to cheer her up a bit." 
 
 Without a word Joe rose slowly to his feet and walked 
 along by Douglas' side. Over the hill they moved and 
 then down into the valley below. The path, now worn 
 deep by the feet of cows, for this region was pasture 
 land, wound through a swamp where they had to pick 
 their way owing to the water which settled here. Up 
 a steep bank they scrambled, and when they at last 
 gained the top they came in sight of Mrs. Dempster's 
 house but fifty yards beyond. 
 
 The widow was sitting under the shade of an apple 
 tree near the front door, with Empty lying full length 
 upon the ground by her side. They were both some- 
 what startled and surprised at the sudden appearance 
 of the two men from such an unexpected quarter. 
 
 "Well, bless my stars!" Mrs. Dempster exclaimed, ris- 
 ing quickly and giving the shoe-maker her chair. "Ye 
 look fagged out, poor man, an* no wonder fer comin' 
 
230 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 over the hills. It's not often any one travels that way 
 now, though John always took that short-cut to the store 
 when he was alive. He was a great man fer short-cuts, 
 was John. I wish Empty here was more like his pa." 
 
 ' ' I don 't like short-cuts, ' ' her son replied. ' ' Ye don 't 
 see nuthin', an' ye don't hear nuthin'." 
 
 "An' ye can't tell nuthin'," his mother retorted. 
 "That's why ye don't like short-cuts." 
 
 "I believe you sent for me, Mrs. Dempster," Doug- 
 las remarked. "I was sorry I could not come sooner." 
 
 "Oh, there was no special hurry. A day or two 
 doesn't make much difference. But I thought if ye 
 brought ye'r fiddle an' played a little it might cheer 
 the poor lassie up a bit." 
 
 "How is she?" Joe eagerly asked, leaning forward 
 so as not to miss a word. 
 
 "Doin' as well as kin be expected. She's alone now," 
 and the widow's voice became low. "But I guess it's 
 all fer the best. I wasn't in the least surprised, con- 
 siderin' what she's gone through. It'll be as much as 
 she kin do to make her own way in life, an ' I told her so 
 jist as soon as she was willin' to listen to reason." 
 
 "Is she much depressed?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "All the time, sir, an' that's what worries me. She 
 broods an' broods, an' sighs an' sighs, poor thing, till 
 my heart aches fer her. ' ' 
 
 "And nothing will cheer her up?" 
 
 "Nuthin' that me an' Empty kin do an' say, so that's 
 the reason why I sent fer you. I thought mebbe a little 
 music might have some effect. I've heard read from 
 the Bible in church that when old King Saul was down 
 in the dumps, an' dear knows he deserved to be, the 
 cloud passed from his mind when David, the shepherd 
 
DISPELLING THE CLOUDS 231 
 
 lad, brought his harp an' played before him. Now, 
 sez I to meself , sez I, ' if that old feller with all his cuss- 
 edness could be cured in that way, why can't a poor, 
 dear, troubled lassie like Jean Benton?' An' so sez I to 
 Empty, 'Go an' see if that wrestler won't come,' sez I. 
 "We've always called ye 'the wrestler,' sir, since ye put 
 Jake Jukes on his back. ' Mebbe he '11 bring his fiddle an ' 
 play a few old-fashioned tunes to chase the shadder 
 from the poor thing's brain. I hope ye won't mind." 
 
 "Not at all," Douglas replied. "I shall be only too 
 pleased to do anything I can. Shall I go into the 
 house?" 
 
 "I've been thinkin* that mebbe it would be better to 
 play out of doors. Her winder is open, so if ye'd jist 
 go under the shade of that tree there, she'd hear ye 
 quite plain, but won't be able to see ye. I don't want 
 her to think that the music is fer her special benefit." 
 
 Following Mrs. Dempster's directions, Douglas went 
 to the tree and leaning his back against the bole began 
 to play a number of old familiar hymns. It was a 
 peculiar situation in which he thus found himself, and 
 he wondered what the result would be. He had entered 
 enthusiastically into the widow's little plan, and he 
 never played so effectively as he did this morning. He 
 felt that a great deal was at stake, and he must do his 
 best. He recalled how a certain woman had taken him 
 to task when she learned that he played the violin, 
 which she called the "devil's snare" for luring people 
 to destruction. He had tried to reason with the woman, 
 but to no avail. He believed if she knew what a bless- 
 ing his playing had been to so many people she would 
 really change her mind. 
 
 Douglas had been playing for some time when hi« 
 
232 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 attention was attracted by the shoe-maker, who had risen 
 from the chair and was walking toward the house. No 
 sooner had he entered by the back door than Mrs. 
 Dempster followed. Douglas went on with his music, 
 at the same time wondering what was in their minds. 
 
 He had not long to wait, however, for presently the 
 widow came to the door and beckoned him to come. He 
 at once obeyed, and crossed over to where she was 
 standing. 
 
 "Don't make any noise," she warned, "but f oiler 
 me. I want to show ye something. ' ' 
 
 Tiptoeing across the floor, Mrs. Dempster led him 
 to the door of the little room where the invalid was 
 lying. Pausing just at the entrance and looking in, the 
 sight which met his eyes was most impressive. Bending 
 over the bed was Joe with his face close to Jean's, 
 whose arms were clasped about her father's neck. 
 They were both sobbing, though neither uttered a word. 
 Douglas grasped the whole situation in an instant, and 
 turning, he quietly retreated through the kitchen and 
 out of doors. He was at once joined by Mrs. Demp- 
 ster. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Doug- 
 las' own eyes were moist. 
 
 "What d'ye think of that, now?" the good woman 
 questioned. 
 
 "We have no business to be there," was the solemn 
 reply. ' ' That is too sacred a scene for inquisitive eyes. 
 We must leave them alone." 
 
 "It was the music which done it, sir; I knew it 
 would." 
 
 "Not altogether, Mrs. Dempster. Not altogether." 
 
 "Ye think the Good Lord had a hand in it, too?" 
 
 "Yes, I have no doubt about it." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING 
 
 IT was past mid-day, and Douglas was about to leave 
 for home when Mrs. Dempster detained him. 
 
 "Don't go yit, sir," she told him. "Stop an' have 
 a bite with us. Empty 11 feel mighty pleased if ye will. 
 We haven't much for dinner, but ye'r welcome to what 
 we have, an' we'll eat it right under the shade of that 
 big apple tree. We ginerally do that on bright Sun- 
 days, f er dear knows we eat often enough in the house. ' * 
 
 The widow was greatly pleased when Douglas con- 
 sented to stay, and at once roused her son to action. 
 
 "Hi, thar, Empty," she called, "wake up an' git a 
 hustle on. I want a pail of water, an' then ye kin 
 carry out the dishes. I do believe that boy'd sleep all 
 the time," she grumbled. Nevertheless, she watched 
 him with motherly pride as he slowly rose from the 
 ground, stretched himself and looked around. 
 
 "Ain't dinner ready yit, ma?" he asked. "I'm most 
 starved t' death." 
 
 "No, it ain't, an' it won't be to-day if ye don't hurry. 
 We've special company fer dinner an' I want ye to 
 behave yerself . If ye do, I '11 give ye an extry piece of 
 strawberry shortcake." 
 
 Douglas was greatly amused at the conversation and 
 candour of the mother and son. They understood each 
 other perfectly, and were not the least bit abashed at 
 
 233 
 
234 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 the presence of strangers. There was no polished veneer 
 about the widow's hospitality. She did not pretend to 
 be what she was not. She knew that she was poor and 
 was not ashamed of it. She was perfectly natural, and 
 indulged in no high-flown airs. 
 
 But Mrs. Dempster was a good manager, a capable 
 housekeeper and an excellent cook. The table-cloth she 
 spread upon the grass under the tree was spotless. 
 
 "We used this on our weddin' day," she informed 
 Douglas who was watching her. "Dear old Parson 
 Winstead married us in the church, an' then he came 
 over an' had dinner with us. Me an' John had the 
 house all fixed up, an' some of the neighbours helped 
 with the dinner. My, them was great days," and she 
 gave a deep sigh as she stood for a moment looking off 
 across the field. "We was all equal then, jist like one 
 big, happy family, an' good Parson Winstead was to 
 us like a father. But, goodness me! if I keep gassin' 
 this way, dinner '11 never be ready," and she hurried 
 off to the kitchen. 
 
 When Mrs. Dempster brought Joe from the house 
 he was a greatly changed man. His step was elastic, 
 his head erect and his eyes shone with a new hope. He 
 ate well, too, almost the first he had eaten in several 
 days, so he informed his companions. 
 
 It was a pleasant company which gathered under the 
 shade of the old apple tree. Empty had received his 
 second piece of strawberry shortcake, and was satisfied. 
 When dinner was over, he once more stretched himself 
 out upon the ground and resumed the sleep which his 
 mother had disturbed. 
 
 During the meal Mrs. Dempster had been flitting to 
 and fro between the house and the apple tree. There 
 
EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING 235 
 
 was always something she had to attend to, so she ex- 
 plained when Douglas remonstrated, telling her that 
 she should eat something herself, and never mind the 
 rest. But she would not listen, as she had to look after 
 the fire, get a plateful of doughnuts, and most impor- 
 tant of all, to see how the invalid was making out with 
 her dinner. 
 
 "The poor dear has eaten more than she has any 
 time since she's been sick," she told them with pride, 
 after one of her visits to the house. "An' there's a 
 little tinge of colour, too, in her white cheeks, an' she 
 really smiled an' thanked me when I took her in her 
 dinner. ' ' 
 
 "That is encouraging, isn't it?" Douglas asked. Joe 
 said nothing though his eyes never left the widow's face, 
 and he listened almost breathlessly to her slightest word 
 about Jean. 
 
 "It is a good sign," Mrs. Dempster replied, as she 
 sat upon the ground and poured for herself a cup of 
 tea. "An' it's another good sign that she wants to 
 see you, sir." 
 
 "See me!" Douglas exclaimed in surprise. "Why 
 is that a good sign ? ' ' 
 
 " 'Cause she hasn't wanted to see any one since she's 
 been sick." 
 
 "What does she want to see me for?" 
 
 "To thank ye for playin', most likely. She made 
 me tell her who it was, as she was most curious to know. 
 She's takin' an interest in things now, an' that's en- 
 couragin'." 
 
 When Mrs. Dempster had finished her dinner, she rose 
 to her feet and informed Douglas that she was ready 
 to take him to see Jean. 
 
236 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "You jist make yerself comfortable, Joe, an* 111 
 be back in a jiffy. Lean aginst that tree an* rest ye'r 
 poor old back. It's always good to have something 
 to lean aginst. Since John died Empty 's the only thing 
 I've got to lean aginst, though I must say he's mighty 
 wobbly at times." 
 
 Douglas followed Mrs. Dempster into the little bed- 
 room off the kitchen where the invalid girl was lying. 
 He was somewhat startled by the marked contrast be- 
 tween Jean's white face and her jet-black hair which 
 was flowing over the pillow in rich confusion. She 
 smiled as she reached out her thin hand and welcomed 
 the visitor. 
 
 "Ye'd better set right down here, sir," Mrs. Demp- 
 ster advised, as she drew up a chair. "I'm goin' to 
 leave yez to have a nice little chat while I clear up 
 the dinner dishes. It'll do ye a heap of good, won't it, 
 dear?" and she stroked Jean's head. "But ye mustn't 
 talk too much." 
 
 Douglas glanced around the little room. It was a 
 cosy place, and the partly-opened window let in the 
 fresh air from the surrounding fields, together with 
 the sound of the twitter of birds and the hum of bees. 
 
 "This was my room," the widow explained, "until 
 Jean took possession of it. She wanted to stay right 
 close to me an' wouldn't go to the spare-room off the 
 parlour. I haven't had time to fix it up, an' I've asked 
 Empty time an' time agin to git somethin' to put over 
 that stove-pipe hole in the wall, an' that one in the 
 ceilin '. But my land ! ye might as well save ye 'r breath 
 as to ask that boy to do anything. But, there now, 1 
 must be off." 
 
EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING 237 
 
 The good woman's face was beaming as she left the 
 house and went back to the apple tree. 
 
 "Where's Empty?" she demanded of Joe, when she 
 discovered that the lad was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 "I don't know," was the reply. "He got up just 
 after you left, but I didn't notice where he went." 
 
 "That's jist like the boy. He's never around when 
 he's wanted. He does try my patience at times," and 
 the widow gave a deep sigh as she began to gather up 
 the dishes. 
 
 In the meantime, Jean and Douglas were engaged 
 in an earnest conversation. It was somewhat con- 
 strained at first, but this feeling shortly vanished. 
 
 "It was so good of you to play for me," Jean re- 
 marked. "I feel better than I have for days. I guess 
 the music has chased the clouds away." 
 
 "I am so thankful that I have been able to help you," 
 Douglas replied. "You have had a hard time of late." 
 
 "Indeed I have. It seems to me that I have had a 
 terrible dream. Oh, it was horrible." 
 
 "You must forget all about that now, and get well 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 Why should I get better? What have I to live 
 for?" 
 
 "You must live for your parents' sake, if for noth- 
 ing else. They have been heart-broken over you." 
 
 "I know it, I know it," and Jean placed her hands 
 to her face as if to hide a vision which rose suddenly 
 before her. "But you do not know my past life. You 
 have little idea how I have suffered, both mentally and 
 bodily." 
 
 "Perhaps I understand more than you imagine. Any- 
 
238 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 way, I know how you looked the night I dragged you 
 out of the water at Long Wharf." 
 
 Douglas never forgot the expression which over- 
 spread Jean's face as he uttered these words. Her 
 large dark eyes grew wide with amazement and a name- 
 less terror. She clutched the bed-clothes with her tense 
 hands, and made a motion as if to rise. 
 
 " Please do not get excited, Miss Benton," he urged. 
 "I would not mention this now, only there is much at 
 stake, and I want your assistance." 
 
 "And it was you who saved me?" she gasped. 
 
 "Yes, with the help of an old tug-boatman. I saw 
 Ben Stubbles push you off the wharf into the harbour 
 and then leave you to your fate." 
 
 " Oh ! " It was all that Jean could say, as the terrible 
 memory of that night swept over her. 
 
 "Have you seen Ben lately?" Douglas asked. 
 
 "Not since the night of the dance at the hall." 
 
 "There is good reason why he doesn't come to see 
 you, is there not?" 
 
 "Indeed there is," and Jean's eyes flashed with a sud- 
 den light of anger. "Nell Strong has taken him from 
 me; that's what she has done. Oh, I'll get even with 
 her yet." 
 
 "You are altogether mistaken. Ben is the one to 
 blame. Miss Strong has not wronged you. She dis- 
 likes the man, and has refused to have anything more 
 to do with him." 
 
 "But why did she meet him nigbt after night by 
 that old tree in front of her home, tell me that?" 
 
 "She was afraid of the Stubbles, both father and 
 son. Simon Stubbles has a mortgage on the Strong 
 place, and if she turned Ben away and would not meet 
 
EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING 239 
 
 him, the little home would have been taken. Miss Strong 
 has done it now, however, and so I suppose the home 
 will go." 
 
 "Are you sure of what you say?" Jean asked in a 
 low voice. 
 
 "Yes, I am certain. Ben has been using every effort 
 to win Miss Strong, and he is very angry at me because 
 he imagines that I have turned her against him. The 
 professor and his daughters have been very kind to me, 
 and on several occasions I have been at their house. 
 Once, on my way home, Ben had two men lying in wait 
 for me with clubs. Fortunately, I was able to defend 
 myself, and so escaped serious injury." 
 • "Are you positive it was Ben who set them on?" Jean 
 asked- 
 
 * Oh, yes, there is no doubt about it. I found a let- 
 ter from him in the pocket of the coat of one of the 
 men who attacked me. I have the coat now in my 
 possession as well as the letter. The latter speaks for 
 itself." 
 
 "And so Ben did that!" Jean murmured to herself. 
 
 "But that is not all, Miss Benton. You have heard, 
 I suppose, what he did Friday night?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Dempster has told me all about it. And 
 you think Ben was back of that, too?" 
 
 "Indeed he was. The two men we caught said so, 
 and they are to swear to it at the trial, and bring the 
 other men who were with them." 
 
 "Will there be a trial?" 
 
 "It will be held to-morrow in the hall at the Corner. 
 I am going to put a stop to such attacks and bring the 
 guilty ones to task, if it is at all possible. It is a very 
 strange thing for one family to rule a community like 
 
240 THE UNKNOWN WKESTLER 
 
 this, persecute innocent men, and drive them from the 
 parish. It is a mystery to me that the people have per- 
 mitted it for so long." 
 
 "Who will conduct the trial?" Jean enquired. 
 
 "Squire Hawkins. He is the only Justice of the 
 Peace here." 
 
 "But he won't dare do anything to Ben. He is 
 frightened almost to death of the Stubbles." 
 
 "I know he is, and for that reason I want your as- 
 sistance. ' ' 
 
 "What can I do?" Jean asked in surprise. 
 
 "You can tell what Ben did to you at Long Wharf. 
 That will prove what a villain he really is. Why, he 
 intended to drown you that night, and he would have 
 succeeded if I had not happened to be present. You 
 can make your sworn statement to Squire Hawkins who 
 can come here, so it will not be necessary for you to 
 go to the trial." 
 
 Jean buried her face in her hands at these words 
 and remained very silent. Douglas watched her for a 
 few minutes, and a deep pity for this unfortunate 
 woman came into his heart. 
 
 "Come," he urged, "won't you back me up? I have 
 entered into this fight and need all the assistance I can 
 get. If I am defeated, no one will dare to undertake 
 such a thing again." , 
 
 "I can't do it," Jean moaned. "Oh, I can't tell on 
 Ben." 
 
 "Why not? He tried to drown you, and he cares 
 for you no longer. He is a menace to the whole com- 
 munity. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I know it, I know it, ' ' the girl sobbed. ' ' But I shall 
 never tell on Ben, no, never." 
 
EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING 241 
 
 "But he has ruined your whole life, remember, and 
 he may ruin others as innocent as you were, if he is 
 not stopped. Think of that." 
 
 ''Haven't I thought of it day and night, until I have 
 been about crazy? But it is no use, I cannot tell on 
 him." 
 
 "And are you willing to let him go free that he may 
 do the same villainous things in the future that he has 
 done in the past ? A word from you will stir the parish 
 to its very depths. If the people only knew what Ben 
 did to you at Long Wharf that night, they would rise 
 and drive him from the place. If I told what I know 
 they would not believe me. But if you confirm what 
 I say, that will make all the difference." 
 
 "Please do not urge me," Jean pleaded. "I cannot 
 do it." 
 
 "You must love him still." 
 
 "No, I do not love him now," and the girl's voics 
 was low. 
 
 "What hinders you, then, from telling?" 
 
 "It is the love I had for him in the past. That is 
 one of the sweet memories of my life. Nothing can 
 ever take it from me. No matter what he has done, 
 and no matter what may happen to me, it is something 
 to look back upon those days which are almost sacred 
 to me now. But there, it is no use for me to say any- 
 thing more. It is difficult for me to explain, and harder, 
 perhaps, for you to understand." 
 
 With a deep sigh of weariness, Jean closed her eyes 
 and turned her face on the pillow. Knowing that noth- 
 ing more could be accomplished, and chiding himself 
 that he had tired her, Douglas rose to go. 
 
 "Just a moment, please," Jean said, as she again 
 
242 THE UNKNOWN* WRESTLER 
 
 opened her eyies. " Are you sure that Nell does not care 
 for Ben? Tell me o&c&taore." t erf 
 
 ''Miss Strong .told me" so herself," Douglas | replied. 
 Then in a few words he -related Hie soeife Ihat^hadHaken 
 place in front Of the Jukes ' ^oUs# on Fri'da^afternoori. 
 " Doesn't that prove the truth of what I have saM$" 
 he asked in ^Oncteioa; : •■■ a* yaiUiTi a \ 9iB I .:/-" 
 
 "Thank you very much/' was the only reply that 
 Jean, maa^-as she again closed her eyes and turned 
 her face toward the wall. 
 
 It was about the middle of the afternoon-wnen Empty 
 came out of kk& Souse and $t rolled over to where his 
 mother was sitting atene under the 'apple tree. 
 
 " Where in the world have you->been?'" she demanded 
 as he approac&gd, I Q&& "-sin 9311; ton ob total* 
 
 " Asleep," and the boy gave a great yawn and 
 stretched himself. ".Hit? add 9. 
 
 * ' Weil;~I r ^ctae !' ' /.When will ye* ever git enough 
 sleep ? Ye 11 have nuthin ' but a sheep 's head if ye 
 keep on thfs^wa^/' : «fl9rit .hot zisbaid tadW" 
 al S»m£ty*na3d««! r ncr repfy ;as r W iafc down: upon the 
 ground 'by< his^other % side: .Hei was 5 too 'happy to 
 take offence at anything she^migfefci say. *:He hid* heard 
 ^gr^at piece of news through the stove-pipe iaole in the 
 ceiling of the little b^droojni JDiripty had & imputation 
 -to sustain, and"hls f c^nsdef^e;neveifTWc^led^ham as to 
 •how His news^w8& ODtainecfi tlno&ib zi il .am 
 
 " .ba&fiviabnn oi i/ov io\ ^qfidisq 
 !iiiB97/ lo rigig q99b r diiT? 
 -xlJon tijxft viamoaX .v/olliq odl no dool iad bus 
 
 .Aiihido bus f bsrf8iIqmo9Dfl ad bluoo eiom 
 .org ot a& >(J /13d b9iit bfi: ; 
 
JT83HW v;tiq. hit 
 
 .jhsb imII .jloen ior! bniroiB bsnsJgfil cisrfo sJBOfBb 
 
 77?i b ifeuorit ,2lofid vJkrtaiBo bsismd zbw •rifirf Jflfihuxol 
 
 •Aseih isvo Yl^nbqmsJ bsjlhb 898831* bisv 
 
 rarg iiab isH .- ' 
 
 [tfigtSTfloo aid 
 
 PERVITINS JUSTICE- 
 
 I 
 
 OUGLAS did. not remain long ^ Mrs. Dempster's 
 after his conversation with Jean. Bidding the 
 widow and Joe good-bye, he made his way swiftly across 8 
 the- fields- by a well-worn path to the- main highway. 
 He was anxious to see Nell as she had been much in, 
 his niind since the night of the attack. To his joy, he 
 found her sitting alone by the big tree on the shore with ,. 
 a book lying open in her lap. An expression of pleas- 
 ure overspread her faoe as. she welcomed her visitor, 
 and offered him a chair by her side. 
 
 "Father was sitting here," she explained, "but he 
 beirame unusually sleepy this afternoon, so he is now 
 lying down in the hoitse. Xan is out in the boat with, 
 Sadie Parks, a girl friend, gathering water-lilies, so I 
 been having a- quiet time all by myself." ,g» 
 I most remarkable thing for you, is it not?" Doug-- 
 laa asked, mentally blessing the, professor for becoming, 
 sleepy, and Nan for going for the lilies. 
 
 "It y is. It has been a long time since I have : 
 
 not read to father every Sunday afternoon." 
 
 It seemed to Douglas as if heaven had suddenly 
 opened to him as he sat there by Nell's side. She 
 lfol|ed. mpre : bwitifu] -than ever, so he thought* clad, 
 in a simple dress of snowy whiteness, open at the 
 throat, exposing a little gold cross, pendant from a 
 
 243 
 
244 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 delicate chain fastened around her neck. Her dark, 
 luxuriant hair was brushed carefully back, though a few 
 wayward tresses drifted temptingly over cheek and 
 brow. Her dark sympathetic eyes beamed with inter- 
 est as Douglas related his experiences of the day, and 
 his conversation with the invalid girl. 
 
 "I am so thankful that Jean knows the truth," she 
 quietly remarked when Douglas had finished. "But 
 isn't it terrible what Ben did to her at Long Wharf! 
 I knew he was bad, but I had no idea he would do such 
 a thing as that." 
 
 Further private conversation was now out of the 
 question on account of Nan's arrival with her girl 
 friend. She was carrying a large bunch of dripping 
 white water-lilies, which she flung down upon the 
 ground. 
 
 "My, what a nice little cosy time you two are hav- 
 ing," she exclaimed. "It is too bad that you have to 
 be disturbed." 
 
 "It certainly is," Douglas laughingly replied. "We 
 were quite happy here by ourselves. Why didn't you 
 stay longer out on the river?" 
 
 "Because I don't like to see people too happy, that 
 is the reason, ' ' and Nan flopped herself down upon the 
 ground, and began to weave a wreath of lilies with 
 her deft fingers. "Come, Sadie," she ordered, "you 
 make one, too. My, it's hot! Nell's always cool and 
 never flustered," she continued, as she snapped off 
 a stem and tucked a lily into its proper place. 
 
 "It's necessary for some one to be cool," her sister 
 replied. "I do not know what would happen if I 
 didn't try to keep my senses." 
 
 Nan merely tossed her head and went on with her 
 
PERVERTING JUSTICE 245 
 
 work. She was certainly a remarkable specimen of 
 healthy, buoyant girlhood, with face aglow and eyes 
 sparkling with animation. What a subject she would 
 make for an artist, Douglas mused as he watched her 
 as she worked and talked. 
 
 " There/ ' Nan at length cried, as she held up her 
 finished wreath for inspection. "Give it to the fairest, 
 sir," she dramatically demanded. 
 
 "The Judgment of Paris, eh?" Douglas smiled. 
 
 "No; your judgment. " 
 
 "That would be rather embarrassing, would it not?" 
 
 "I dare you to do it," and she dangled the wreath 
 before him. 
 
 "Come, come, Nan," Nell chided. "Don't be fool- 
 ish. You make Mr. Handyman feel badly." 
 
 "That's just what I want to do. He has neglected 
 me, and I want to punish him." 
 
 "Give me the wreath," and Douglas stretched out 
 his hand. 
 
 Rising to his feet, he placed the beautiful lilies upon 
 Nell's head, and then stepped back to view the effect. 
 
 "There," and he turned to Nan, "I have accepted 
 your dare, so I hope you are satisfied." 
 
 "You mean thing!" the girl pouted. "I don't want 
 anything more to do with you. Come, Sadie, let's 
 go for a walk. We're not wanted here." 
 
 "You must not go now, Nan," her sister ordered. 
 "It will soon be tea time, and I want you to help me. 
 Father will be awake soon." 
 
 The time sped all too quickly for Douglas, and he 
 wondered what would happen before he should spend 
 another such pleasant afternoon with Nell. She did not 
 remove the wreath he had placed upon her head until 
 
246 TlfE TXKNOAVX WRESTLER 
 
 that evening after he had left her at the cottage door. 
 Then she placed it in a dish of water to keep the lilies 
 fresh as long as possible in memory of that happy 
 'a^/-^^-^a^e%a^j>5Mss'^ossessed her, and her heart 
 was full of peace such as she had" never before experi- 
 
 Doug!a?s Md^tM Reeling that he Was now nearing a 
 crisis in his sojourn at Kixton, and the next morning'lre 
 told Jake that he had better get another man to help 
 him. rsbui *rr;oY 
 
 Jake'-'cx^aim^L^ 1 wfa ba« £i ob nob. I" 
 
 "Not just yet," Douglas informed him. "But I may 
 ik&\ftfa&W>Qgi v e you full service for a -while, } And, 
 besides, if -this trial should £o against : --me\ - r I may be 
 ^forcea^o ^eave^the ^lace after Ilfia If Squire Hawkins 
 fails to give justice an4 allows Ben to go free, what 
 *6m i^i^W^'^SmS^bPA&k^mtBbdP'il^m see'what 
 Jake would say. 
 
 no^tSe^yte Wlifi^fhat Hen Hawkins migtft -riot give ya 
 justice, eli? Is that what 's both erin' ye?" 
 
 "Oh, it r s noi bothering me : ve*y much, only it might 
 shorten my stay here, that's all. It will be no use for 
 tafe^td remain in 1 this place with all the people against 
 me. I can go elsewhere." 
 
 "The hull' people '11 not T>e aginst y<v" and Jaka 
 brought his big flst down upon the 'kitchen table' with 
 ft TI bang. "Mcbbe- they'll have a few things to say if 
 Hen Hawkins isn't on the -square. I know that him 
 : iki^me SttaflflQs eat out of the same trough. But great 
 •'gttfikiris! they'll dance on the same griddle if they're 
 not keerful." ttarsJla I 
 
 Douglas was surprised at the number of men gath- 
 
PERVERTING JUSTICE 247 
 
 ered at the hall when he and Jake arrived that after- 
 noon. Most of them were sitting or standing, in little ; 
 groups outside, discussing the one important question. 
 of the day. Just what they were saying ho could not 
 tell, as the thne had come for the trial to begin anithe 
 men nocked into the building. * Squire Hawkins was 
 sitting on the platform, and by his side was his clerk 
 with pen and paper before 'him, ready to take down 
 the evidence. 
 
 (Jueas.thle Squire has closed his store this after- 
 nt>£m," Jake wlijrspered to his companion. /'He's got 
 his clerk with him to do the writin'.' , %«j fl 
 
 Douglas -noticed' that Ben -Stubbles was not in the 
 
 hall, but he saw Tom/and Pete with the other menjwho 
 
 ; part in the attaok, sitting in the front seat. 
 
 J Jen toqg summoned? he wondered. He, wanted 
 
 ;ascai tobe present to hear all that would be said. 
 
 The trial was. the, most peculiar and interesting one 
 
 Douglas had ever witnessed. Squire Hawkins did/ not 
 
 know how to conduct the case, but what he lacked- in 
 
 knowledge he made up in words and a pompous man- 
 
 ^ feeling his importance on this occasion, 
 
 and was determined to make the n^ost^qf -at Rising to 
 
 •\K't. he stated the charges that had been made 
 
 against Tom Totten and Pete Rollins. Then he or- 
 
 <jfct«d stke $J#enders to come forward. 
 
 "You have heard the charges made against; you^ have 
 
 "\\V have," was the reply. 
 "Ai y or not guilty!.,^, 9cf h[m , ,- , 
 
 "Guil . 
 
 This candid admission was a surprise to the Squire, 
 as he had expected that the men would emphatically 
 
248 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 deny the charges. He was not prepared for this, and 
 hardly knew how to proceed. He frowned, twisted in 
 his chair, and felt most uncomfortable. The staring 
 and gaping audience greatly embarrassed him. 
 
 "S-so you confess your guilt, eh?" he at length 
 stammered. 
 
 "Yes, sir; we do." 
 
 "Are you not afraid of the consequences?" 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 "W-well, I h-have to see about that. I'm not just 
 sure yet. But why did you make the attack upon Mr. 
 Handyman ? ' ' 
 
 "We were ordered to do so, sir," Tom replied. 
 
 "H'm, I see," and the Squire rubbed his chin 
 thoughtfully with his right hand. He was thinking 
 clearly now, and realised how necessary it was for him 
 to be most discreet with his questions. "Were there 
 just two of you?" he presently asked. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Who were the others?" 
 
 "They can speak for themselves, sir." 
 
 No sooner had the words left Tom's mouth than four 
 men stepped forward. 
 
 "And were you in the trouble, too?" the Squire 
 questioned. 
 
 "Yes, sir," the spokesman replied. "We was with 
 Tom an' Pete. We're guilty, too." 
 
 "Well, I must say you are a fine bunch of night- 
 hawks," and the Squire gave a slight, sarcastic laugh. 
 "You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves." 
 
 "We're more'n ashamed, sir," Tom replied; "we're 
 disgusted. ' ' 
 
 "Disgusted at what?" 
 
PERVERTING JUSTICE 249 
 
 "At makm' sich fools of ourselves, an' bein' the tools 
 of another." 
 
 "But you are responsible men, and why do you try 
 to shift the blame to other shoulders ? " the Squire stern- 
 ly demanded. 
 
 "Because we'd been drinkin', sir. We really didn't 
 know what we was doin' that night. The whiskey was 
 given us an' we was ready for any divilment. That's 
 the long and short of it." 
 
 Squire Hawkins now rose slowly to his feet and looked 
 upon the audience before him. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he began, "I do not see any reason 
 why I should prolong this enquiry. These men have 
 confessed everything, and there is nothing more for 
 me to do except to impose the penalties. I shall be 
 very lenient as this is the first time they have been 
 brought before me. But I wish to warn you all that if 
 I am called upon to deal with such a case again, I shall 
 be very severe." 
 
 No sooner had the Squire sat down, than Douglas 
 was on his feet. He had listened with almost incredu- 
 lous amazement to the way in which the enquiry had 
 been conducted, and he knew that if some one did not 
 interfere, the one who was really guilty would escape. 
 
 1 ' May I be allowed to speak ? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so, providing you are brief and to 
 the point," was the somewhat reluctant assent. 
 
 "I have been very much surprised at this enquiry," 
 Douglas began, "and I wish to call attention to certain 
 matters which have been passed over without any con- 
 sideration at all. These men before you, sir, have 
 pleaded guilty to the charges which I made against 
 them. They have confessed that they were given liquor 
 
250 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 and ordered to attack me last Friday night. But/you 
 have not asked them who the person is who ordered the 
 attack and gave them the. whiskey. Is: it not right. that 
 you should do so; sir, that we may know who was really- 
 at the bottom of that cowardly affair ? ' ' 
 
 "Hear, hear," came from several in the audience. 
 1 1 You are right. I Let us know the person 'a name. 
 
 "Your question has no bearing upon this case," 
 Squire Hawkins angrily replied. " These offenders have? 
 acknowledged their guilt, and they; alone are the re- 
 sponsible ones and must bear the whole blame." 
 
 "But why did they attack me?" Douglas asked. 
 "They had no ill will against me; they were merely 
 tools in the hands of another. The one who set them 
 on evidently wished $o do me; an injury. He is; the 
 gnilty one, and* L demand that you inquire who he is." 
 
 "Then you, can keep on demanding," was the surly 
 respoii se. " I am conducting tliis case* and not #ou. 
 
 A murmur of disapproval passed through the andi-f 
 ence; and Several cries of "Shame" were heard. Squire 
 Hawkins was feeling very angry and at the -same time 
 uneasy. He was between two fires. He was afraid of 
 the people, and yet he had a greater fear of- the Stub- 
 bles. As he hesitated, not knowing what to do, Tom 
 Totten cleared : his throat and turned partly around. 
 
 "If vcz want to know who: put us on: to tfh at nasty 
 job, I'll tell yez," he began. "It was Ben Stubbles who 
 did it. He gave us the whiskey, an' ordered us to way- 
 lay Jake ' Jukes ' hired man an 'beat him up. That's 
 God's truth, -an ''We are all ready to sweur to it." 
 
 During the. inquiry Ben had entered the hall and 
 remained near I the door. He lislencd to all that took 
 place with much ami: He felt perfectly secure 
 
PEfflRERTING JUSTIOSit .25JL 
 
 and trusted to Squire Hawkins to shield him from any 
 blame. He enjoyed Douglas', apparent defeat when his 
 request was refused. But Tom's voluntary information 
 was entirely unexpected. He .bad never for an instant 
 -imagined that the man would dare nfralfe such] -a- State- 
 ment. His momentary consternation gave way to furi- 
 ous anger and he at once hurried up the aisle. 
 . " What in h— — are you giving us ? ' '. he demanded 
 from Tom. "What do you mean by bringing my name 
 into this affair?" 
 
 Tom stared in amazement at the 'irate man before 
 him, for he could hardly believe bis sensed . ThMn his 
 eyes blazed with indignation as he grasped the signifi- 
 cance of the scoundrel's words. 
 
 • "I've been givin'. the truth, Ben Stubbles," be re- 
 plied, "an' ye know it as well as we doi'.' 
 
 • "You lie," and Ben .stamped hard upon the- floor in 
 his rage. "You were beastly drunk, got into trouble, 
 and then lay the blame: on me. That's a nice way to 
 do things." 
 
 :- Douglas could hardly control himself at these- brazen 
 
 -words. Jake, sitting by his side, was writing and 
 muttering many "Great punkins!" under his breath. 
 In fact, the entire assembly was becoming- re&tiess an* I 
 ready for; almost anything. But Tom remained 're- 
 markably calm. He took a step forward and facedithe 
 Squire. • ;;ot oJ ^aib'iooofi 
 
 Ye hear what Ben says, sir," he began], "an' ye 'ye 
 
 -lieard what we've said. It's six to one, an' we're 1 
 to swear any time on the Good Book that what we've 
 
 -'told WiiicH i\\v believe; him or us'.'" 
 
 *• Squire now was in ;i wots- <ix tmm ever. He 
 
 ,a*npi perspiring forehead with a big handker- 
 
252 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 chief and looked helplessly around. He longed for the 
 platform to open and swallow him up. But no such 
 miraculous relief was granted. The issue was before 
 him, and he knew he had to face it. 
 
 "I — I think I shall reserve judgment," he stam- 
 mered, ''until I have given this matter due considera- 
 tion/ ' 
 
 "But we want ye to decide now, sir," Tom insisted. 
 "We want to know what ye 're goin' to do before we 
 leave the hall. It's six to one, an' any kid could figger 
 that out, without waitin'." 
 
 "Hear, hear," came from several in the room. 
 
 "But I must have time to think it out carefully," 
 the Squire replied. "You were drunk when you made 
 the attack, and it was easy then for you to imagine 
 almost anything." 
 
 "But we weren't drunk, sir, when Ben met us that 
 night, an' gave us the whiskey, an' told us what to do, 
 was we?" and he turned to his companions. 
 
 "No, no," came as one from the lined -up men. 
 
 As Squire Hawkins' eyes wandered first from the six 
 men to Ben and then back again in an uncertain man- 
 ner, an idea suddenly flashed into his mind. He grasped 
 it in an instant. 
 
 "Look here," he demanded. "I am not dealing with 
 Mr. Benjamin Stubbles now, but with you six men who, 
 according to your own confession, made the attack. If 
 necessary, I can take up his case later. You are the 
 men I have been called upon to try, and not Mr. Stub- 
 bles. I, therefore, declare you guilty of waylaying one, 
 John Handyman by name, with the intention of af- 
 flicting bodily injury, and also of breaking into Pro- 
 fessor Strong's house. These are very serious offences, 
 
PERVERTING JUSTICE 253 
 
 but as this is the first time you have been before me I 
 shall make the penalty very light, and impose the fine 
 of only ten dollars upon each of you. That is my de- 
 cision, and I hope you are satisfied.' ' 
 
 Douglas was upon his feet in an instant. 
 
 "You are perverting justice," he cried. "You know 
 who is the guilty man and you are letting him go free. 
 I demand that you give a different judgment, or at 
 least be man enough to acknowledge that you are afraid 
 to give any decision against Ben Stubbles." 
 
 "Hear, hear," came from all parts of the room, and 
 in the excitement that followed, Squire Hawkins de- 
 clared the trial ended and left the building with Ben 
 as quickly as possible. 
 
 Douglas was thoroughly disgusted at the farce he had 
 just witnessed. He was somewhat disheartened as well. 
 What hope had he of accomplishing anything when the 
 man appointed to administer British justice exhib- 
 ited such a spirit of partiality and cringing cowardice? 
 The men around him were greatly excited, though he 
 felt that nothing could be expected from them. They 
 might storm and rage at the injustice, but they would 
 bow their necks as in the past to the Stubbles' yoke and 
 endure every indignity. 
 
 Leaving the hall and the babel of voices, he hurried 
 up the road. The unpolluted air was refreshing and 
 he became calmer. Presently an idea flashed into his 
 mind, which brought a flush to his cheeks and caused his 
 eyes to kindle with a new hope. "Strange I didn't 
 think of it before," he mused. "But perhaps it is not 
 too late yet. I shall try it, anyway." 
 
I 01. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 .991$ 0£ 0N THE rocKS 
 
 C'ftARLES GARTON was seated in his cosy study ' 
 smoking- his after-dinner cigar. It was unusual 
 for him to' be alone at this hour of the evening, as -his 
 wife and children were generally with him. But he had 
 been late coming from the office and by the time he had ' 
 finished his dinner the children were put to'bed, as this 
 was the maid's evening out. Mrs. Garton was attend- 
 ing a church "affair" and would net be home until ten, 
 so she had phoned. 
 
 Garton was glad to be alone as it afforded him a quiet 
 time ;for thought. As a rule he tried to leave his h 
 ness concerns behind him when he left the offiee. Hut 
 to-night it was different, and his eyes often turned to- 
 ward two Tetters lying open on the little stand' 'by his; 
 side. At length, picking up one of them, he read it ! 
 again, and, as he did so his face brightened and he gave 
 a deep sigh of relief. But as lie scanned the other his 
 brow knitted in perplexity and, leaning back, he blew" 
 great wreaths of smoke into the air. 
 
 " Strange," he mused, "how that mine has recov- 
 ered. I had given up all hope of getting anything from 
 it, and now it is/booming. My, won 't 7\ it be surprised T 
 I would feel happy to-night but for this other letter. 
 I wonder what I had better do about it. Things are 
 certainly in a bad shape there. He's on the rocks sure 
 
 254 
 
A3.." ON THE ROCKS 255 
 
 enough, and trill go to piBces.il we don't come to his 
 assistance, -so he says.'" :s .jtolir 
 
 'Garten's reverie w^s broken I b#nthe clear insistent 
 ring of the door-bell. ii is-gh Bid 'to bus ed$ fi 
 
 'Confound it!" hfr m6t$R<$, nW.b? rm &m ' *he 
 chair, and hurried out of the room. " Can't I juiy^a 
 little ; peace -for ,<^ne night, at l^ast?,'/ ej[noo ^ixasif tP* 
 
 But nq;gofiB#r J*g he, ,f hrowar open &e ^o^t^an his 
 tone of anger gave way 'bo.one of joy,, when he beheld 
 Douglas Staitfon : ,^andin£, before him. 
 
 "Wuil. >m my word!" he cried, ^ei/inj^fcfs visitor 
 by the arm anot dragging him unceremoniously into the 
 study. "Where .ff^fe^tt^fl^Sj^f 3 ^^ from? 
 
 tJJJnwaslied," Douglas laughing! inSecf, asfce 
 
 ..- himself into an easy chair. * Any more remarks 
 
 ' 1 Am airaid your ma^n^rs^n^&^m- 
 
 ™ ™~+ " .910190 197911 26 VfOil fl HlflT/ I .OliJ I 
 
 prove 
 
 last we met 
 
 I would give almost anvthing to be as strong and 
 on are.- ^08X3 1- 
 
 " 1 . haWfor iMYkir few ^W&Ai'fcfoV -wife 
 
 won't know you." Douglas replied, as tie^l^axlh&d out 
 
 hrtpM°\krfovl? to a figftf ■■^Bfcflilsfoiate'Mrs. 
 
 rhf ki«K-.' Y be keeper baehfe- 
 
 in<_r wrflng'? ^Married! life;* failure •?" 
 
 m!I. Thi* family ar<> fine; children in 
 
 B <Imreh '-tear flghfchr, Rut, we can talk 
 
 -iftftftrt them when they show up. I wantl to know now 
 
256 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 about yourself, and how you have been making out. 
 It's a comfort, anyway, to know that you are alive. " 
 
 "That's about all, I guess," Douglas replied, as he 
 flicked off the end of his cigar into the ash-tray. 
 
 "Have they driven you out?" Garton eagerly ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 "It hasn't come to that yet, though attempts have 
 been made to do so. But I fear they will succeed un- 
 less you come to my rescue." 
 
 "Why, what can I do?" and Garton looked his sur- 
 prise. "Surely you are not going to get me into any 
 trouble up there!" 
 
 "Lawyers generally like trouble, don't they? More 
 trouble, more money, is their motto, so I understand." 
 
 "Yes, as a rule. But, you see, this has to do with 
 Church matters, and I like to keep out of them." 
 
 "Too little money in the parsons' pockets, eh? Well, 
 I don't blame you. But I want your advice. You told 
 me to come to you whenever I needed help, and here 
 I am. I want it now as never before." 
 
 "And you shall have it. Give me your story, and 
 then I shall see what can be done. I hope to goodness 
 you haven't killed anybody." 
 
 "Not exactly killed with my hands, though perhaps 
 I have with my heart, which is just as bad, according 
 to Scripture." 
 
 As briefly and as concisely as possible Douglas related 
 his experiences at Rixton. He told about his work 
 on the farm, his conflict with the Stubbles, the sorrow 
 of the shoemaker and his wife over their daughter, of 
 Mrs. Dempster and Empty, and the professor and his 
 daughters. He was as cautious as possible when speak- 
 
ON THE ROCKS 257 
 
 ing about Nell, and from his words the lawyer received 
 not the slightest idea of his love for her. 
 
 Douglas told his story well, and before he was 
 through Garton was pacing up and down the study. He 
 was unusually excited and at times he found it difficult 
 to restrain his feelings. 
 
 "Good heavens, man!" he exclaimed when Douglas 
 had finished, "you've been having a wild west show 
 up there. You might have called upon your neighbours 
 to see the fun." 
 
 "I am calling upon one now to see the finish," was 
 the laconic reply. "If he doesn't take a hand in the 
 matter at once there'll soon be a finish to the chief 
 actor. You can't do anything when British justice is 
 perverted through cowardice and partiality. Simon 
 .Stubbles rules the parish, and will continue to rule it in 
 his own way unless he is checked." 
 
 "And checked he shall be," Garton emphatically re- 
 plied, bringing his fist down hard upon the study table. 
 "I am glad you have come to see me to-night, for your 
 story has solved a problem which has been perplexing 
 me all day. Simon Stubbles is on the rocks and has 
 appealed to me for help." 
 
 "On the rocks!" Douglas vaguely repeated. 
 
 "Yes, on the rocks. He is financially embarrassed, 
 and has signalled to me for assistance." 
 
 1 \ That 's news to me. I thought he was very wealthy. ' ' 
 
 "And so did every one. But here is his letter," and 
 the lawyer picked it up from the stand. "I received 
 it this morning, and in it he tells me that unless he has 
 ten thousand dollars immediately he will go under. He 
 wishes to mortgage the whole of his property, mill, 
 house and timber lands." 
 
258 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "This is certainly remarkable news to me," Douglas 
 replied. "lam sure that the people of Rixton have no 
 knowledge of this. They consider him very wealthy, 
 and not without reason for he does a big business. Have 
 you any idea as to the cause of his embarrassment? He 
 seems to live very quietly, and attends strictly to busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "The letter does not say what it is. But since hear- 
 ing your story I have formed nry own conclusion." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "It is his son. From what you have told me, that 
 young man has been leading a very fast life. He does 
 not work at all, and therefore his father must have been 
 providing the money for his headlong career. I do not 
 think I am far astray as cases similar to this have come 
 to my notice. There are too many such young men 
 abroad to-day, doing nothing for themselves, a menace 
 to society, and wretched parasites upon their fathers. I 
 always get furious whenever I think of them. That 
 must be the trouble with Stubbles senior." 
 
 "Do you intend to help him?" Douglas asked as 
 calmly as possible. He would have been more than 
 human had he not thrilled at the news he had just 
 heard. Here was a chance, perhaps, to get even for his 
 harsh treatment at Simon Stubbles' hands. 
 
 "That is the trouble which has been perplexing me 
 all day," Garton replied. "Before you came I had 
 about made up my mind to do so. I did not know any- 
 thing about that reckless son of his then. Neither had 
 I any idea that he is such a tyrant at Rixton, nor how 
 he has treated the clergymen who have been there. I 
 thought he was an active and an earnest Church worker, 
 
ON THE ROCKS 259 
 
 and that was one of the reasons in his favour. But 
 now I see things in a different light.' ' 
 
 1 'But his reign will soon be over, though, if you do 
 not help him," Douglas replied. "I had no idea that 
 assistance would come to me in such an unexpected 
 manner. But, say," and he leaned suddenly forward, 
 "now I understand something. Strange that it never 
 occurred to me before." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 Douglas then told about the mortgage on Professor 
 Strong's place, and how Stubbles was about to fore- 
 close as he needed money. He said nothing, however, 
 about Ben's part in the affair with Nell. He could 
 not trust himself to mention this. 
 
 "Who is this Strong?" Garton asked. "The name 
 sounds familiar. There was a professor by that name 
 at Passdale." 
 
 "He is the same man, but he is blind now, and help- 
 less, depending upon his daughter for support. He 
 lost what money he had saved, so I understand." 
 
 "You don't tell me that Professor Strong is living 
 in Rixton!" Garton exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, 
 he was considered a very able man when he was at 
 Passdale. I have heard a great deal about him. But 
 how did he come to lose his money?" 
 
 "He invested it, like so many other simpletons, in 
 that Big Chief mining concern. I did the same, and 
 80 lost what little I had." 
 
 "No, you haven't," and Garton picked up one of the 
 letters by his side. ' ' I have good news for you and the 
 professor. The Big Chief has revived and is going 
 stronger than ever. TTiis is a letter I received to-day 
 
260 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 telling me about it. I invested largely in that concern, 
 and so am greatly interested. ' ' 
 
 Douglas made no reply to this most gratifying infor- 
 mation. His mind had gone back to Rixton and the 
 little cottage by the river-side. He pictured to him- 
 self the expression upon Nell's face and the look of joy 
 in her eyes when she heard the good news. How he 
 longed to start right off and tell her. What a relief 
 it would be to her to know that the little place would be 
 saved from Simon Stubbles' grasp, and that all the 
 gnawing financial cares would be ended. It seemed al- 
 most too good to be true. 
 
 "How much did the professor invest?" Garton at 
 length enquired. 
 
 " I do not know. But it must have been quite a sum. 
 Anyway, it was his all, and the failure meant so much 
 to him and his daughters." 
 
 "He can sell now at a good profit, as the stock is 
 higher than ever it was before. You can tell him to 
 come to me if he wishes to dispose of his interest." 
 
 "I can hardly believe that what you have told me 
 is true," Douglas replied, "as it will mean so much 
 for the Strongs. Simon Stubbles won 't be able to worry 
 them any longer." 
 
 "Indeed he won't. He's got his own troubles to at- 
 tend to, and they will be much heavier than they are 
 now, if he isn't careful." 
 
 "What do you propose to do? Help him out?" 
 
 "That all depends upon you, Stanton." 
 
 "Upon me! Why, what can I do?" 
 
 "Say the word, and I will refuse to assist him. He 
 can go under, and the parish will be rid of him. Isn't 
 that what you want?" 
 
ON THE ROCKS 261 
 
 For a while Douglas was silent. It would be a choice 
 revenge to see the blustering and impudent bully 
 crashed by a single word. He thought of Ben and the 
 haughty and sarcastic sisters. How delightful it would 
 be to see them wince under the blow of financial fail- 
 ure. This temptation was only of short duration, how- 
 ever, for it was succeeded by a nobler feeling. He must 
 not allow the spirit of revenge to affect him in the least. 
 All that he wanted was justice, and freedom for Church 
 work in Rixton. The Stubbles were in the way, and if 
 pressure could now be brought to bear, either to bring 
 them to their senses or to force them out of the parish, 
 then it was right to do so. 
 
 "Is it hard to decide ?" the lawyer asked, noting 
 his hesitation and preoccupied air. 
 
 "Yes, it is. I wish to do what is fair. The tempter's 
 advice is to get even now for the injury that has been 
 done. But a nobler voice bids me to rise above such a 
 feeling and do nothing in the spirit of revenge, but 
 merely for the welfare of Rixton. " 
 
 "But should not the Stubbles be taught a severe les- 
 son? Is it right that they should escape all punish- 
 ment ?" 
 
 1 ' I suppose not, but punishment should not be carried 
 out in the spirit of revenge. When the State punishes 
 a man, say with imprisonment, for some crime, it is 
 not done in the spirit of revenge, but in order to safe- 
 guard society in general, as well as to teach a severe 
 lesson. The same applies to parental authority over 
 children. Now, I want to do something similar to that 
 in this affair. I wish to do it without any vindictive- 
 ness on my part." 
 
 "You are quite right, Stanton,' ' the lawyer replied. 
 
262 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "I see your point, and I admire you for it. But we 
 must do something. ' ' 
 
 ''Certainly. But let us do nothing hastily. Let me 
 think this over to-night, and we can discuss it again 
 in the morning. You have told me so much that I am 
 anxious to consider every point very carefully. Will 
 that do?" 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted by the ar- 
 rival of Mrs. Garton. She was delighted to see Doug- 
 las, and at once began to question him about his ad- 
 ventures at Rixton. 
 
 "Let us have a cup of cocoa first, Kit," her husband 
 suggested. "And a piece of your nice cake, too," he 
 added. 
 
 "Starving as usual," Mrs. Garton smilingly replied. 
 "Didn't you have your dinner?" 
 
 "Why, yes, but it's nearly eleven now, and you prom- 
 ised to be home at ten." 
 
 When the cocoa had been made and brought into the 
 study, Mrs. Garton looked quizzically at Douglas. 
 
 "If I met you on the street I would not recognise 
 you," she remarked. 
 
 "So that's the way you treat your friends, is it?" 
 her husband bantered. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean that, Charles," she protested. 
 "But I never saw Mr. Stanton dressed that way be- 
 fore." 
 
 "No wonder you wouldn't recognise me," Douglas 
 smilingly replied. "It is a splendid disguise at times. 
 Even Dr. Rannage didn't know me when he came to 
 Rixton." 
 
 "What, were you at that meeting?" Garton asked. 
 
 "So you heard of it, then?" 
 
ON THE ROCKS 263 
 
 1 ' Sure. Why, Dr. Rannage was furious when he came 
 home, and at a recent session of the Board of Missions 
 he expressed his opinion in no uncertain manner, so I 
 understand. ' ' 
 
 "And he is not over it yet," Mrs. Garton remarked. 
 "I was talking to him for a while to-night, and he told 
 me about his terrible experience up there. He said 
 that it was not a fit place to send any man, and that 
 the people were most ignorant and uncouth. " 
 
 "They were too much for Dr. Rannage, though/' 
 Douglas replied. He then told them in detail about 
 the meeting that night at the Corner. "Dr. Rannage 
 made a fool of himself," he said in conclusion. "He 
 was not the proper person to send there." 
 
 "Won't you tell me something about Rixton?" Mrs. 
 Garton asked, "and what you have been doing since 
 you left the city?" 
 
 "Tell her about your wrestling bout with Jake 
 Jukes," Garton suggested, "and the widow and her 
 news-bag of a son, and also about the old shoemaker and 
 his wayward daughter. Yes, and about the old profes- 
 sor and his daughters." 
 
 "You have given me a big contract," Douglas laugh- 
 ingly replied. 
 
 "I know I have, but Kit must hear it." 
 
 It was late when the three at last rose to retire. But 
 Douglas did not mind, for he was glad to have such 
 interested listeners. But the part of his story that 
 was nearest his heart he did not tell. Not even to the 
 Gartons would he reveal his love for Nell, and all that 
 she meant to him. 
 
 Douglas walked with Garton down the street the 
 next morning toward the lawyer's office. 
 
264 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Well, what is your decision as to the Stubbles' af- 
 fair?'' the latter asked. "I suppose you have it all 
 cut and dried." 
 
 "Not altogether," was the reply. "I spent much 
 of the night thinking it over, but am not fully decided 
 yet. But there is one thing I would like you to do. ' ' 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Come to Rixton and let us both meet Stubbles and 
 have it out with him. What do you think of the idea ? ' ' 
 
 "It is a good one, and it has been in my mind ever 
 since you told me your story last night." 
 
 "When can you come? To-day? I am going back 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "I cannot go until to-morrow. I shall go in my auto 
 in the morning and not bother with the train." 
 
 "Come right to Jake Jukes' house and I shall get 
 Mrs. Jukes to have dinner ready. I know it will be 
 a good one, so bring your appetite with you. Don't 
 be too late." 
 
 "Oh, I'll be on time. When we get through with 
 Stubbles, I want to have a few words with Squire Haw- 
 kins. We mustn't let him off too easily." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE WILL OP THE PEOPLE 
 
 IT had taken the people of Rixton a long time to op- 
 pose the overbearing tyranny of Simon Stubbles and 
 his family. It really began that afternoon at the close 
 of the so-called trial. The men were incensed as never 
 before, and talked and threatened in an alarming man- 
 ner. Even then, nothing of a definite nature might 
 have been done but for the leadership of Jake Jukes. 
 He was slow to arouse to a pitch of fury, but when once 
 stirred he was a formidable opponent, and this all knew. 
 His affection for Douglas was something remarkable, 
 and his wife had at times bantered him about thinking 
 more of his hired help than he did of her. Douglas' 
 courage in facing the Stubbles, combined with his abil- 
 ity as a wrestler, was what appealed to Jake, and when 
 he saw what a miserable farce Squire Hawkins was 
 making of the trial, and listened to Ben Stubbles' blas- 
 phemous denial of all connection with the night at- 
 tack, his anger rose to white heat. 
 
 For a while he remained silent at the close of the 
 trial, and merely listened to what the men were saying. 
 He heard all kinds of suggestions and wild talk. Some 
 advocated burning out the Stubbles, mill and house, 
 and driving them from the parish. Others were for 
 horse-whipping Ben and Squire Hawkins, while one 
 went so far as to suggest that they hang Ben to the 
 
 265 
 
266 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 limb of a tree. Jake knew that all this talk would 
 amount to nothing without a leader, and if no one else 
 would act, he would. Quickly mounting a bench, he 
 ordered the men to be silent. 
 
 "Ye'r all talkin' like a bunch of kids," he chided. 
 4 'Let's git down to business, an' do something. I don't 
 want this to end in nuthin ' but talk as in the past. It 's 
 now or never. I'm willin' to lead an' take the hull 
 blame, if yez don't funk on me at the last minute." 
 
 ' ' Good f er you, Jake, ' ' several shouted. * l We '11 stand 
 by ye, never fear." 
 
 "All right, then," Jake replied, "111 bank on yez 
 all. But yez better go home now an ' think this all over, 
 an' what is more important, keep ye'r tongues still an' 
 don't blab this all over the place. When I want yez, 
 I'll send fer yez, an' not before." 
 
 The Stubbles family were at their late breakfast the 
 next morning when news reached them about the in- 
 dignation meeting in the hall the previous evening. 
 It was Squire Hawkins who told them. He had re- 
 ceived the information from an early caller at the store. 
 All the Stubbles considered the affair a huge joke ex- 
 cepting Miss Mehetibel. She was angry and expressed 
 her views in a most caustic manner. 
 
 "It's that horrid fiddler," she declared, "who is at 
 the bottom of all this. Pa, I don 't understand why you 
 allow him to remain in the parish." 
 
 "Oh, he'll be out of the place soon," Stubbles senior 
 replied. "You'll attend to him, Squire, won't you?" 
 and he winked at Hawkins across the room. 
 
 The storekeeper grinned in reply. He was greatly 
 pleased at the way he had managed affairs at the trial, 
 
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 267 
 
 and had no fear of the people so long as he had the 
 Stubbles with him. 
 
 "They're all beasts and should be soundly whipped, " 
 Miss Mehetibel proclaimed. "Oh, if I were only a 
 man!" 
 
 "Cut your hair and change your clothes, Hettie," 
 her brother sarcastically replied, "and you'll pass for 
 a man any time." 
 
 "I'd be ashamed to be like you, Ben," was the re- 
 tort. "You haven't enough spunk to be in the cata- 
 logue of men." 
 
 "Maybe not, but I get there just the same. What 
 about last night?" 
 
 "Oh, that's not ended yet. That indignation meet- 
 ing may amount to something after all." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. It'll all end in talk. Why, the peo- 
 ple in this parish haven't the spunk of chickens when 
 a hawk is after them. Dad's the hawk in this case, 
 and they're frightened to death of him. Come, girls, 
 let's go for a spin." 
 
 If Ben Stubbles had only known what was really 
 taking place in Rixton he would not have spoken so 
 contemptuously about the people of the parish. The 
 intense feeling which pervaded the community that day 
 was ominous. Neighbours neglected their work as never 
 before, and met in twos and threes near their line fences 
 to discuss the one big question of the day. That they 
 were determined to stand by Jake was most evident, 
 and they impatiently waited for word that would stir 
 them to action. 
 
 Their anger was further roused when they learned 
 of what Ben had done to Jean Benton at Long Wharf. 
 This was due to Empty, and the startling news spread 
 
268 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 from house to house with mysterious rapidity. No one 
 doubted it for an instant, for Empty himself had heard 
 it from Jean's own lips, and that settled it so far as 
 the people were concerned. It was this which removed 
 the last particle of hesitation in the mind of any one 
 as to the necessity of action. When at last word came 
 from Jake to be ready that night, the men were as 
 one in their grim determination to take matters into 
 their own hands. 
 
 The wharf near the store was the stated place of 
 meeting, and there, just after sundown, the men of 
 Rixton gathered. They came in little groups without 
 any noise or clamour. Squire Hawkins, at first, had no 
 idea of their intentions, but thought that they had come 
 merely to meet the evening steamer. But as the crowd 
 increased, he became somewhat uneasy as reports of im- 
 pending trouble drifted to his ears. In his anxiety, he 
 sent word to Simon Stubbles, telling him of his fears 
 and advising him to come and disperse the men. 
 
 It was Ben who received the message just as he was 
 about to head his car through the gate of the driveway 
 leading up to the house. With a curse he swung his 
 car to the right and started up the road toward the 
 wharf. He would attend to the crowd, and send the 
 men about their business. His father could make an 
 example of the ringleaders later. But for once in his 
 life Ben Stubbles had reckoned without his cost. As 
 he drew up near where the men were gathered, he or- 
 dered them to clear out and go home. 
 
 "I know your plans/' he told them, "but what do 
 you think you can do? Don't you know what will hap- 
 pen to you? Have you all gone crazy, you d 
 
 fools?" 
 
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 269 
 
 The only reply to these words was a roar of anger 
 as the crowd surged toward the car. Ben, seeing them 
 coming, and realising for the first time the seriousness 
 of the situation, endeavoured to escape. But he was 
 too late, for in an instant he was lifted off his feet and 
 placed astride a pole which was carried upon the shoul- 
 ders of two strong men. Cursing and raving, Ben 
 threw himself to the ground but was immediately hus- 
 tled back again by a score of rough hands. 
 
 "Set still, ye beast, an' stop ye'r wrigglin'," Jake or- 
 dered. "Ye'r only gettin' what's comin' to ye. Ye '11 
 git a darn sight more if ye don't keep quiet." 
 
 Away from the wharf and the main highway Ben 
 was borne, and across an open meadow to a deep slimy 
 frog-pond on the edge of a large swamp. Here he was 
 dumped unceremoniously upon the ground, and ordered 
 to remove his clothes. When he hesitated and looked 
 helplessly about as if seeking for some avenue of es- 
 cape, rough hands seized him and in a few minutes he 
 was standing as naked as the moment he was born. 
 Ben's face was now pale and he was trembling in every 
 limb. His cursing and raving had ceased and the cow- 
 ardly heart of the man showed itself. He pleaded for 
 mercy, and begged his captors to let him go. 
 
 till we're through with ye," Jake told him. 
 "Ye've had ye'r own way in this place long enough, 
 an' it's our turn now." 
 
 II teach ye a thing or two, ye bloody liar," Tom 
 Totten roared. "Ye'r heart's as black as ink, an' ye'r 
 '11 be jist as black in a few minutes. Bring on the 
 stuff, boys." 
 
 At once a pail of coal-tar was produced, and seizing 
 the brush which was handed him, Tom dipped it into 
 
270 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 the tar. At the first daub upon his naked body, Ben 
 emitted a yell of despair and made a frantic effort to 
 escape. But he was instantly seized and laid on the 
 ground. 
 
 "Ye'd better keep quiet, me hearty," Tom warned, 
 as he rapidly smeared Ben's body from head to foot. 
 "If ye'r not careful I'll do ye'r face an' head at the 
 same time." 
 
 While this was taking place, several of the men were 
 ripping open an old feather bed they had brought with 
 them. Into this Ben was plunged, and rolled over and 
 over until he looked more like an unsightly feathered 
 creature than a human being. He was then made to 
 stand on his feet for general inspection. The men shout- 
 ed with laughter at the ludicrous spectacle he presented, 
 and all kinds of uncomplimentary remarks were made. 
 
 "Who's your tailor?" asked one. 
 
 "Is that the latest fashion?" questioned another. 
 
 Presently Jake raised his hand, and the babel of 
 tongues ceased. 
 
 "Now, look here, Ben," he began, "this is a nasty 
 job, I know. But it was comin' to ye, an' it had to be 
 done sooner or later. Ye were altogether too fresh an* 
 there was no livin' in the parish with ye. This is jist 
 a warnin' to you an' all connected with ye, that the 
 men of Rixton won't stand no more tom-foolery. We're 
 going to take things in our own hands after this, an' 
 we're not goin' to allow you nor ye'r father nor any- 
 body else to treat us like a bunch of damn curs. Isn't 
 that so, boys?" 
 
 "Hear, hear!" came from all. "Give him hell, Jake." 
 
 "An' look here, Ben," he continued, "we've all 
 heard what ye done to Jean Benton at Long Wharf. By 
 
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 271 
 
 the great jumpin ' punkin ! I kin hardly keep me hands 
 off ye'r measley body fer doin' that to a woman, an' 
 her nuthin' bnt a girl. Now we're goin' to give ye a 
 dose of ye'r own medicine, an' as ye dumped Jean into 
 the harbour, you ye'rself can jist flop around in that 
 frog pond, an' see how it feels. Come on, boys." 
 
 As Ben was seized and lifted from the ground, he 
 shrieked and begged for mercy. 
 
 1 ' Don 't drown me ! don 't drown me ! " he yelled. ' ' For 
 God's sake don't " 
 
 His cries were cut short by the water which closed 
 over his head as he went down on his back beneath the 
 leaves, spawn and slime. He came up like a cork, chok- 
 ing and sputtering, and started to wade to the shore 
 as the water was only up to his arm-pits. But as he 
 attempted to scramble out, he was pushed back and 
 forced to stand in his wretched plight for several min- 
 utes. At length he was allowed to leave the pond, and 
 witli teeth chattering with cold and fear, he was told 
 to dress himself as quickly as possible. 
 
 Mud and slime mingling with the drenched feathers 
 and tar made him look more grotesque than ever as he 
 struggled into his clothes. 
 
 "Now clear out," Jake ordered, when Ben was at 
 last dressed, "an' thank ye'r stars that we didn't skin 
 ye alive." 
 
 Ben waited for no second bidding, but darted away 
 and ran as he had never run in his life, followed by 
 the shouts, jeers and laughter of the crowd. 
 
 The men were now in a dangerous mood and ready 
 for any mischief. The fire of pent-up passion had at 
 last burst forth, and the mob spirit was upon them. 
 
272 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Squire Hawkins/ ' shouted some one. "Let's give 
 him a dose." 
 
 "The Squire, the Squire,' ' passed from mouth to 
 mouth. "His turn next." 
 
 What would have happened is hard to tell, had not 
 Douglas at that instant stepped forward. His sudden 
 appearance arrested the men, and they at once stopped 
 their clamour to hear what he had to say. 
 
 "I wouldn't do anything more to-night, men," he 
 advised. "You are greatly excited now, and if you are 
 not careful you might do something that you will re- 
 gret. You have taught Ben a severe lesson, and one 
 he thoroughly deserved. But do not lay hands upon a 
 Justice of the Peace. He can be dealt with in another 
 way." 
 
 "How?" asked one of the men. 
 
 "I have just come from the city," Douglas explained, 
 "where I have been in consultation with one of the 
 ablest lawyers there. He is a special friend of mine, 
 and he will be here to-morrow. He will deal with 
 Squire Hawkins far more effectively than we can." 
 
 "Who is he?" several asked. 
 
 "Charles Garton, head of the firm of Garton & Tra- 
 cey. I think you all have heard of him. It was he 
 who rounded up that bunch of Government grafters last 
 year and forced them to disgorge their ill-gotten gains. ' ' 
 
 "Sure, sure, we know him," was the cry. "Hurrah 
 for Garton! He'll settle with Hen Hawkins all right." 
 
 Seeing that his words were having the desired effect 
 and that the crowd was slowly dispersing, Douglas 
 turned to Jake and told him to come home. Without 
 a word the latter obeyed, and together the two crossed 
 
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 273 
 
 the field to the main road. Once there, Jake's tongue 
 became unloosened. 
 
 " Where did ye drop from, John?" he asked. "I 
 didn't know ye was anywhere around." 
 
 "I came from the city on the afternoon train, and 
 when your wife told me what was going on, I hurried 
 to the wharf as fast as possible." 
 
 "An' did ye see it all?" 
 
 "Only the dip in the frog-pond, but I could easily 
 guess the rest." 
 
 Douglas did not go home with Jake, but parted from 
 him at the road leading to the professor's house. He 
 wished to see Nell, as he had many things to tell her. 
 
 He received a hearty welcome, and felt very much at 
 home as he sat by the professor's side and told him 
 about his visit to the city, and of his return to Rixton 
 just in time to see Ben's plunge into the frog-pond. 
 
 Nell's face grew white and a startled expression came 
 into her eyes as Douglas related what the men of the 
 place had done that night. Her concern was not for 
 Ben, but for those responsible for his punishment. She 
 felt sure that Simon Stubbles would take some speedy 
 method of revenge, and that the first object of his at- 
 would be the man sitting near her father. She 
 wished to warn him of his danger. But how could 
 she speak and not reveal her keen interest in. his wel- 
 fare? 
 
 "Have you had any supper?" she asked so suddenly 
 that Douglas looked somewhat surprised. 
 
 "No, I have not had time to think of eating," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Then you must have something right away," and 
 
274 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Nell rose to her feet, glad of an opportunity to "be mov- 
 ing about in order to hide her excitement. 
 
 Douglas begged her not to mind as he could get a 
 bite when he went home. But Nell would not listen to 
 his protests, and in a short time she brought in a tray 
 containing a fresh, boiled egg, several slices of excellent 
 home-made bread, cake and tea. 
 
 This act of thoughtfulness touched Douglas deeply, 
 and the look that he gave Nell brought the colour back 
 to her cheeks and made her very happy. As he ate, 
 he told about his visit to the city, and especially about 
 the evening- he- had spent with the Gartons. He said 
 nothing, however, about what the lawyer had told him 
 concerning Simon Stubbles' financial difficulties; neither 
 did he say anything about the recovery of the Big Chief 
 mining concern. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock when Douglas bade the pro- 
 fessor good-night. 
 
 "I am anxious to hear how you are getting on with 
 your book," he told him. "But we can have a long 
 talk when I come again." 
 
 Nell accompanied Douglas to the front door, and 
 for a while they stood there looking out upon the beau- 
 tiful night. Then Douglas told her about Simon Stub- 
 bles' financial embarrassment, and how he had appealed 
 to Garton for assistance. By the light of the moon he 
 could see Nell's face which, so he thought, was more 
 beautiful than ever, owing to the serious expression de- 
 picted upon it. He could not divine the nature of her 
 thoughts, but when he mentioned the good news of the 
 Big Chief mine, she gave a cry of joy, and her face 
 brightened. 
 
 "I can hardly believe it is true," and she clasped 
 
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 275 
 
 her hands before her. "Are you sure there has been 
 no mistake ?" 
 
 1 ' Xone at all. Mr* Garton will be here to-morrow, 
 and he will take over your interest in the mine, pro- 
 viding your father agrees." 
 
 "Oh, he will agree all right. What a joy it will be 
 to us all," and she turned her grateful eyes toward 
 her companion's face. 
 
 It was difficult for Douglas at that moment not to 
 reveal to Nell all that was in his heart. He longed to 
 tell her of his love, to clasp her in his arms, and to claim 
 her as his own. But no, he must wait. He would not 
 speak to her until he had thrown off his disguise. He 
 believed that she cared for him, perhaps loved him. 
 But what would she think if she knew who he really 
 was, and what a deceiver he had been? 
 
 These thoughts flashed through his mind with light- 
 ning rapidity. He could hardly trust himself to speak, 
 so they both stood there strangely silent. 
 
 1 ' I must go now, ' ' and Douglas reached out his hand. 
 "I shall see you to-morrow." 
 
 As Douglas' hand closed over Nell's he held it for 
 a few seconds, and it was a great joy to him that she 
 did not try to draw it away. Quickly stooping, he 
 touched her hand with his lips, and then without an- 
 other word he left her and walked rapidly away from 
 the house. 
 
 Sometime later, in the solitude of her own room, 
 Nell's lips pressed the spot where the kiss had fallen. 
 Her eyes were bright with a new-found joy, and her 
 face was radiant with the happiness of love. 
 
CHAPTER XXYIH 
 
 KNUCKLING UNDER 
 
 SIMON STUBBLES was very angry at what had 
 taken place the previous evening. He was trou- 
 bled, as well, over his financial difficulties, for he knew 
 that if he could not raise the ten thousand dollars he 
 was a ruined man. Even now he was aware that his 
 influence in Rixton was waning, and what would it be 
 if the crash should come? He had dominated the peo- 
 ple because of his position and supposed wealth. They 
 had bowed to his slightest will, and had allowed him 
 to rule. But now they were taking matters into their 
 own hands, and had inflicted a most humiliating pun- 
 ishment upon his only son. 
 
 Squire Hawkins was in the room with him this morn- 
 ing, and had related in detail what had happened to 
 Ben. 
 
 "It is most disgraceful, sir, and you must punish 
 the ringleaders at once, ' ' he told him. ' ' That will teach 
 the others a lesson.'' 
 
 "And who are the ringleaders?" Stubbles asked. 
 
 "Why, you know, don't you? They are Jake Jukes 
 and Tom Totten; both very dangerous men." 
 
 "And who put them up to the job?" 
 
 "Did any one?" 
 
 "Certainly. It was Jake's hired man; he's the one 
 who did it." 
 
 276 
 
KNUCKLING UNDER 277 
 
 "But he was in the city, so I understand, and didn't 
 get back until the deed was about done." 
 
 "Erin," and Stubbles gave a grunt of disgust, "he 
 was the chief mover in the affair, mark my word. I've 
 had my eye on that fellow ever since he came to the 
 place. He 's a stirrer up of trouble. I knew it from the 
 first, and did my best to get rid of him, but he defied me 
 and has remained, notwithstanding my orders for him 
 to leave." 
 
 1 ' Then it will be necessary to make an example of him, 
 sir," the Squire replied. "Just say the word, and I 
 shall have him brought before me." 
 
 At that instant the door-bell rang, and a few sec- 
 onds later Douglas and Charles Garton were ushered 
 into the room. Both Stubbles and the Squire sprang 
 to their feet when they beheld the very man they had 
 been denouncing. Stubbles was about to launch forth 
 in hot, angry words when his eye rested upon the law- 
 yer. In an instant his manner changed, and, ignoring 
 Douglas, he rushed forward and seized Garton by the 
 hand. 
 
 "This is a very pleasant surprise," he cried. "I had 
 no idea that you were in the place. Allow me to intro- 
 duce my friend, Squire Hawkins." 
 
 Though outwardly affable, both Stubbles and the 
 Squire were very uneasy at the arrival of Jake's hired 
 man in company with the ablest lawyer in the city. 
 What does it mean? each asked himself, and anxiously 
 awaited further developments. 
 
 "I have come to see you on special business, Mr. 
 Stubbles," the lawyer began, "and as my time is lim- 
 ited, I wish to discuss the matter with you at once." 
 
 "Why, certainly," Stubbles returned. "We can be 
 
278 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 as private here as anywhere, sir. Your — er — compan- 
 ion can wait for yon at the store. ' ' 
 
 1 ' No, I wish him to stay where he is, ' ' Garton replied. 
 
 1 ' Do you wish Squire Hawkins to remain, too ? ' ' Stub- 
 bles anxiously enquired. 
 
 "That is for you to decide. It is immaterial to me, 
 at present, whether he goes or stay, though I wish to 
 speak to him later.' ' 
 
 "He might as well remain, then," Stubbles replied. 
 "We have been bosom friends for years, and I always 
 take him into my confidence. He is a man to be re- 
 lied upon." 
 
 "I shall come to- the point at once, Mr. Stubbles," the 
 lawyer began. "You have written to me telling of 
 your financial difficulties, and asking for a loan of ten 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 Squire Harkins stared in amazement at these words. 
 His weak lower jaw dropped, and his mouth flew sud- 
 denly open. This was certainly a remarkable revela?- 
 tion. 
 
 "But before I go further," the lawyer continued, "I 
 would like to know the cause of your unfortunate sit- 
 uation. It is a great surprise, for you have been do- 
 ing a big business." 
 
 "I know it," and Stubbles' eyes dropped. "I would 
 not be in this position to-day but for my family. My 
 daughters, I regret to say, have not been as careful as 
 they might have been, but my son is really the one who 
 has ruined me. He has spent my money lavishly and 
 extravagantly, and though I have reasoned with him 
 many a time, it was to no avail. I know I have been 
 weak, and the money that should have been used in 
 connection with my business has gone to him. There, 
 
KNUCKLING UNDER 279 
 
 you have my confession, sir," and the unhappy man 
 mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. 
 
 "And ten thousand dollars will tide you over the 
 trouble, do you think?" Garton asked. 
 
 "I am sure of it." 
 
 "And what about your son? Will any of it go to 
 him?" 
 
 "Not a cent. I am done with him as far as money 
 matters are concerned. He must look out for himself 
 after this. I have been taught a severe lesson." 
 
 "And suppose I do not get the money for you, what 
 then?" 
 
 "I am ruined." 
 
 "Can you not get it elsewhere?" 
 
 "No, not that amount. I have tried and failed. Six 
 thousand was the best any one would do. I hope you 
 can favour me, sir," and Stubbles turned his eyes 
 beseechingly upon the lawyer's face. 
 
 "It all depends upon my young friend here," Garton 
 replied, "and that is the reason why I have asked him 
 to remain in the room." 
 
 "It depends upon him!" Stubbles exclaimed in as- 
 tonishment, as he looked toward Douglas. "I do not 
 understand your meaning, sir." 
 
 "You know him, then?" 
 
 "Yes, I have met him several times. He is Jake 
 Jukes' hired man, so I understand." 
 
 "And he is the man you have been persecuting ever 
 since he came to this place. Why was that?" 
 
 "There was no persecution, I assure you," Stub- 
 bles hotly defended. "He made himself most obnoxious 
 to people in general, and for the welfare of the com- 
 munity I ordered him to leave the parish." 
 
280 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "In what way did he make himself obnoxious ?" 
 
 "He insulted my son one night at a quiet dance in 
 the hall at the Corner, and broke up the gathering. " 
 
 "And what was your son doing? How did he be- 
 have that night f Did you ever think of that ? ' ' 
 
 As Stubbles did not reply but dropped his eyes to 
 the floor, Douglas turned upon him. 
 
 "It was your son, Ben, who made the trouble that 
 night, Mr. Stubbles, " he charged. "He acted more 
 like a beast than a human being, and because I inter- 
 fered and checked him, he started out to have re- 
 venge. And how did he do it? In a manly way? 
 Oh, no. He persuaded you to order me from the place, 
 and when I refused to obey, he set men to waylay me 
 at night along the road. He even gave the men liquor 
 to induce them to carry out his evil designs, and then 
 at the trial he blasphemously denied it all. And you," 
 he added, turning to Squire Hawkins, "allowed British 
 justice to be perverted.' ' 
 
 "Are you not afraid to make such a charge as that, 
 young man?" the Squire pompously asked. "Do you 
 not already realise the danger you are in from last 
 night's affair? How can you account for that?" 
 
 "Yes, that's what I want to know," Stubbles ques- 
 tioned. "Did you not stir up Jake Jukes and others to 
 set upon my son and treat him in a most shameful man- 
 ner?" 
 
 "I knew nothing at all about it," Douglas explained, 
 "until my arrival from the city last night." 
 
 "You lie!" and Stubbles stamped furiously upon the 
 floor. "Do you expect me or any one else to believe 
 such a thing as that ? ' ' 
 
KNUCKLING UNDER 281 
 
 "Ask Jake and the rest of the men. They know that 
 I had nothing to do with the affair." 
 
 "I wouldn't believe what they said if they swore 
 to it on all the Bibles in the world. They are nothing 
 but a pack of curs, and I'll fix them, see if I don't." 
 
 "You will do nothing of the kind, Mr. Stubbles," the 
 lawyer quietly remarked. "If you do, not a cent of 
 money do you get from me." 
 
 "Keep your money, then," Stubbles retorted. "I'm 
 not going to be brow-beaten by you or any one else, and 
 especially by a farm-hand. I shall get along some- 
 how, but I will have satisfaction for the injury that was 
 committed last night. Ben is my son, and I am going 
 to stand by him no matter what happens." 
 
 "Steady, Mr. Stubbles, steady," the lawyer advised. 
 * ' You must not talk that way. You are not out of deep 
 water yet." 
 
 "I will stay in, then, and you can all go to blades. 
 You want me to back down and say I have been in the 
 fault. But you've got the wrong bull by the horns this 
 time." 
 
 "Am I to understand, then, that you will not need 
 the ten thousand dollars from me?" Garton asked. 
 
 "No, not under your conditions. You want me to 
 apologise to him," and he nodded toward Douglas. "If 
 I do, you'll let me have the money. Is that it?" 
 
 Cp. — 6f — Handyman, can speak for himself," Gar- 
 ton replied. 
 
 "I am not thinking so much of myself, Mr. Stubbles," 
 Douglas told him, "as of the parish in general. If 
 you agree not to act like a tyrant in the future and not 
 to meddle in Church matters, and stop persecuting every 
 
282 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 clergyman who comes here unless he bows to your slight- 
 est wish, then I am satisfied.' ' 
 
 "Do you think I am a fool?" Stubbles flung back. 
 * ' What impudence ! Why, I never heard the like of it 
 before! And I won't allow it! You can go, both of 
 you. I'll attend to my own affairs, sink or swim." 
 
 Stubbles rose to his feet, signifying that the discus- 
 sion was at an end. 
 
 "So you don't want the money, then?" Garton asked. 
 
 "No, and that's the end of it." 
 
 "Very well," and the lawyer rubbed his chin in a 
 thoughtful manner, "that's settled. And you intend 
 to prosecute the men who took part in last night's af- 
 fair?" 
 
 "Yes, to the limit of the law, especially that man 
 there," and Stubbles pointed his finger scornfully at 
 Douglas. ' ' He was at the bottom of the trouble, and he 
 shall suffer for it." 
 
 "Well, look here, Mr. Stubbles," and Garton rose 
 suddenly to his feet as he spoke, "I warn you that the 
 moment you do that, I shall have your son arrested for 
 attempted murder." 
 
 Had Simon Stubbles received a direct blow in the 
 face, he would not have been more surprised than at 
 these words. His eyes bulged in amazement, and he 
 became as pale as death. 
 
 "What, what are you saying?" he gasped. "Surely 
 you must be mistaken. Ben, my son! attempted mur- 
 der!" 
 
 "Yes, that was what he did. He pushed a woman over 
 Long Wharf in the city, and left her to her fate. And 
 she would have been drowned but for timely assist- 
 ance. ' ' 
 
KNUCKLING UNDER 283 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" and Stubbles buried his face in hia 
 hands. "I knew that Ben was wild, but I had no idea 
 he would do anything like that." 
 
 Presently he lifted his eyes to the lawyer's face. 
 
 "Are you sure it was Ben?" he asked. "There may 
 have been a mistake. Perhaps it was some one else." 
 
 "No, there has beea no mistake. It was your son 
 who did it; we have good proof of that." 
 
 "And who was the woman? Much depends upon 
 who she is. It may be a case of black-mail." 
 
 "It was a girl from your own place, a neighbour of 
 yours, Jean Benton." 
 
 With a gurgled groan of abandoned hope, Stubbles 
 sank back and remained huddled in his chair, a pitiable 
 object of misery. The man who had acted the tyrant 
 for years, who hardly knew the meaning of mercy, and 
 had crushed all who opposed him, was now being paid 
 back tenfold. As he had sown, so was he reaping. 
 
 "We must go now," the lawyer reminded him, after 
 a few seconds of silence. "But remember, Mr. Stubbles, 
 the instant you lay a charge against Mr. Handyman 
 here, or any of the men who took part in last night's 
 affair, you will know what to expect. And as for you, 
 Mr. Hawkins," and he turned to the Squire, "I shall 
 deal with you later for wilfully perverting justice. 
 You acted with cowardice and partiality at the trial, 
 and you must put up with the consequences." 
 
 "Don't do anything, for God's sake!" Hawkins 
 cried, now smitten with a terrible fear. ' ' I will do what 
 you say, but don't take action, I beseech you. It will 
 ruin my business." 
 
 This was just what Garton wanted, and an amused 
 
284 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 twinkle danced in his eyes. He hesitated, however, for 
 a few seconds as if lost in deep thought. 
 
 "Very well, then, Mr. Hawkins," he at length re- 
 plied, "if you are willing to make a public acknowl- 
 edgment of your wrong decision, I will take no notice 
 this time. As you know from my record, I am not eas- 
 ily turned aside when I once make up my mind. How- 
 ever, I will make an exception this time, if you obey 
 me at once." 
 
 "I will, sir, I certainly will. What shall I do?" 
 
 "Write out a plain confession of your wrong decision 
 at the trial and post it on the door of your store, or in 
 some other public place, where all can see it. That is 
 what I demand." 
 
 "I shall do it at once, sir," came the low response. 
 It was quite evident that the Squire was feeling keenly 
 his humiliation, but there was nothing else for him to 
 do, as he had a great fear and respect for the lawyer 
 standing before him. 
 
 ' ' I am glad you are acting like a sensible man, ' ' Gar- 
 ton told him. "It will save you a great deal of trou- 
 ble. I must hurry away now, as it is getting late." 
 
 "Wait a minute, sir," Stubbles ordered, as he lifted 
 his haggard face. "I have heard your instructions to 
 the Squire, now what do you want me to do ? " 
 
 "Why, I thought you didn't want anything more to 
 do with me," the lawyer exclaimed in surprise. 
 
 1 * Oh, that was before I heard what Ben did at Long 
 Wharf. I have changed my mind in the last few min- 
 utes, and see things in a different light. He can look 
 out for himself and fight his own battles after this. 
 It's no use for me to cut off my nose to spite my face. 
 My wife and I will be worse than beggars, and my 
 
KNUCKLING UNDER 285 
 
 daughters will be thrown upon the world helpless, if I 
 fail in business. Extravagance has brought me to this, 
 and I have been taught a scorching lesson. I need that 
 money, sir, so go ahead and tell me what I must do. 
 It will mean humiliation in either case, so I might as» 
 well make the best of a nasty job." 
 
 Had Douglas been animated merely by the spirit of 
 revenge, he would have been more than satisfied at the 
 outcome of this interview. But it was only justice he 
 wanted, and the assurance that Simon Stubbles and 
 Squire Hawkins would behave themselves in the fu- 
 ture. He felt sure that they would after this severe 
 lesson. 
 
 1 'Suppose we let the matter end," he suggested to 
 the lawyer, when Stubbles had acknowledged his de- 
 feat. "If these men are willing to conduct themselves 
 properly in the future, why not give them another 
 chance? I am satisfied if you are." 
 
 "Just as you say," the lawyer indifferently replied, 
 as he glanced at his watch. "It's up to you." 
 
 "Well, let it rest at that, then. I don't wish to 
 carry the matter any further. Give Mr. Stubbles the 
 money, and save him from failure." 
 
 At these words Stubbles sprang to his feet, while a 
 new light of hope gleamed in his eyes. 
 
 "And you won't humiliate me?" he asked. "You 
 won't demand a public confession?" 
 
 1 ■ Not if you agree to our wishes, and I think you un- 
 wind now what they are." 
 
 "I do, I surely do, and I shall see that they are ful- 
 filled," he cried. 
 
 et us shake on it, then," and Douglas reached out 
 his hand. 
 
286 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 Stubbles seized it, and as he did so tears came into 
 his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. It was the spirit 
 of forgiveness that had moved him and caused his 
 emotion. 
 
 "That is good," and Garton smiled approvingly. "I 
 hope I shall never be called to this parish on such a 
 business again. " 
 
 "You never will," Stubbles emphatically replied. 
 "But come and visit me again, sir, and bring Mr. Han- 
 dyman with you. I don't think you will find anything 
 amiss then, eh, Hawkins?" 
 
 1 ' Sure, sure, ' ' the Squire fervently replied, as he held 
 out his hand to bid Garton and Douglas good-bye. "I 
 think that things will be different in Rixton after this. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE CHALLENGE 
 
 FOR two days there was intense excitement through- 
 out the entire parish of Rixton. The one great 
 topic of conversation was the punishment Ben Stubbles 
 had received. There was considerable anxiety as well, 
 for those who had taken part in the affair fully expected 
 that Simon Stubbles would hit back hard. Just what 
 he would do, they had no idea, but they realised that it 
 was not his nature to overlook an insult, especially to 
 his only son. It was, therefore, a great relief when 
 the news spread that nothing would be done, and that 
 Simon Stubbles had agreed to allow the matter to rest. 
 
 How this information leaked out was never fully 
 known, though it was surmised that Squire Hawkins 
 had given away the secret. Many were the stories in 
 circulation, and the slightest incident was greatly en- 
 larged according to the imagination of the narrator. 
 It was believed that Jake Jukes' hired man had been 
 a detective in disguise, or anyway, a man who had con- 
 siderable influence. People recalled everything he had 
 said and done since coming to the place. His wrestling 
 powers were freely commented upon, as well as his abil- 
 bo play the violin. They remembered, too, how he 
 had faced Ben Stubbles at the dance, and had defeated 
 single-handed the men sent to waylay him along the 
 road at night. In short, he became such a mystery to 
 
 287 
 
288 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 all, that they began to look upon him as a hero, and 
 ascribed to him wonderful powers, somewhat akin to 
 those bestowed upon heroes of ancient legends. This 
 feeling became intensified owing to Douglas' absence 
 from the parish since the day of Simon Stubbles' hu- 
 miliation. He had gone with the clever lawyer at a 
 Tbreak-neck speed, so it was said, and had not returned. 
 
 But after two days the people of Rixton had some- 
 thing else to talk about. It was the grim spectre of 
 war which had suddenly appeared, and sent a chill to 
 every heart. The newspapers were full of it, and told 
 of the clash between France and Germany, and of the 
 base violation of Belgium by the advancing Huns. 
 Then came England's declaration of war, and all knew 
 that Canada, as a part of the British Empire, must 
 fight, too. People were hungry for the least scrap of 
 news, and watched anxiously for the mailman to make 
 his daily appearance. But even then they were not sat- 
 isfied, and men crowded the wharf, impatiently await- 
 ing the arrival of the evening boat from the city, that 
 they might obtain the latest news. When word came 
 that a Contingent was being formed for overseas serv- 
 ice, then all were aware that Canada was getting ready 
 for her part in the titanic conflict. 
 
 Professor Strong was greatly excited over the war, 
 and for once he forgot about his beloved book. In- 
 tensely patriotic, he wondered why the young men of 
 the parish did not enlist. He longed to be young again, 
 that he might set them the example, and he talked 
 eagerly to his daughters about England's greatness, 
 and related story after story of her mighty deeds in 
 the past. He was familiar, as well, with the scenes 
 of the conflict, for he had once visited Belgium, and 
 
THE CHALLENGE 289~ 
 
 had even been at Liege. The old man wept when he 
 heard how the Germans had captured it, and were 
 sweeping down upon Brussels. 
 
 "Just wait,'* he told them, "until the English and 
 the French forces meet those devils, and then there 
 will be a different tale to tell. There will be no goose- 
 trotting, mark my word. Oh, if I were only able to 
 go!" 
 
 Nell was as greatly interested as her father and Nan. 
 But through all the excitement she could not banish 
 Douglas from her heart and mind, and she wondered 
 what had become of him. She could not easily forget 
 the last time she had seen him in company with the 
 lawyer. She recalled how he had turned as the car 
 was whirling him away, and waved his hand to her 
 as she watched him from the door. Empty had told 
 her later how the two had paid a visit to his mother, 
 and of their brief talk with Jean. The subject of the 
 conversation Empty did not know, and he felt quite 
 crestfallen, for his reputation was at stake. But he 
 tried to make up for this lack of knowledge by telling 
 of the numerous stories which were in circulation about 
 Douglas. Nell listened to them all, though she made 
 no comment. But deep in her heart she believed that 
 there was considerable truth in what she heard. That 
 John Handyman was some one in disguise, she had 
 imagined for some time. She had reasoned it over and 
 over again in her own mind, and had often lain awake 
 at night thinking about it. But why had he come to 
 Rixton? And why should a man with his ability work 
 as a farm-hand? If his health had been j r- the could 
 have somewhat understood it, for she had read of such 
 cases. The more she thought, the more puzzled she be- 
 
.290 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 came. Anyway, she was sure that he was a good man, 
 and a gentleman, for not once could she remember the 
 slightest discourtesy on his part to any one. 
 
 Two weeks had now passed since Douglas left the 
 place. No one had heard a word about him, and Nell 
 at times believed that she would never see him again. 
 That she had met him and had talked with him, 
 seemed almost like a beautiful dream. She lived in the 
 memory of it, and when she had a little spare time to 
 herself she visited the old pine tree, where they had 
 stood and talked on that bright afternoon. 
 
 It was on one of these occasions that, instead of 
 remaining by the tree, she strolled along the path they 
 had travelled that day, until she came to the edge of 
 the cleared field. Beyond was the church, standing 
 bare and lonely, so she thought. She recalled how 
 Douglas had spoken about his visit there, and the sad 
 neglect of the building. A desire now came upon her 
 to see it for herself, so, crossing the field, in a few min- 
 utes she was at the front door. To her surprise she 
 found it open, and entering, her astonishment was still 
 greater when she saw Joe Benton hard at work cleaning 
 the floor and the seats. Upon the old man's face was 
 an expression of happiness, and his eyes brightened 
 as he paused in his work. 
 
 "I'm getting ready for the service," he explained 
 in reply to Nell's question. "There was no one else 
 willing to do it, so I undertook the job." 
 
 "But I didn't hear about any service," Nell re- 
 plied. "When will it be held?" 
 
 "Next Sunday. A notice was posted on the store 
 this morning by Simon Stubbles. He got word from 
 the Bishop, so I understand." 
 
THE CHALLENGE 291 
 
 "Is the new clergyman coming ?" Nell asked, now 
 greatly interested. 
 
 "I can't say, miss. It may be the Bishop himself, 
 for all I know. But as this is Friday, there isn't much 
 time to get things ready. I wonder what the Bishop 
 would say if he could have seen the church as it was 
 when I began work. It was certainly disgraceful." 
 
 "But who is to play the organ ?" Nell enquired. 
 "And the hymns should be practised by those who are 
 willing to come into the choir. Is any one attending to 
 that?" 
 
 "I am, miss. Si asked me if I would speak to you, 
 and I was going to your house on my way home. I 
 hope you will play, for then I know everything will 
 be all right with the music. Just try the organ, and 
 play a few tunes. It is a long time since I have heard 
 them, and it will help me with my work." 
 
 "Not now," Nell smilingly replied. "I am going 
 to dust the chancel and the vestry; that is, if you will 
 let me." 
 
 1 1 Sure, sure, go ahead. You have as much right here 
 as I have. We all have the same privileges in the 
 Father's House, for we are all His children." 
 
 Joe had swept the chancel and vestry room, so Nell 
 dusted them both with great thoroughness. She was 
 very happy at this work, just why she could not ex- 
 plain. When she was through, she polished the brass 
 Altar vases, which were much tarnished. Then she, 
 went out of doors and gathered an abundance of wild 
 flowers, and going into the vestry she arranged these 
 artistically in the vases. Stepping back, she viewed 
 her handiwork. 
 
 "How will they do?" she asked, as Joe just then 
 
292 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 looked in at the door. "Don't you think they will suit 
 any one?" 
 
 "I should say so," was the enthusiastic reply. 
 "Even the Bishop himself couldn't find any fault with 
 them." 
 
 When the flowers had been placed upon the Com- 
 munion Table, and the last book had been carefully 
 dusted and arranged, Nell sat down at the little organ 
 and began to play. Joe came and sat down in one of 
 the choir seats at the left. Hymn after hymn Nell 
 played, and when she at last stopped, Joe stepped softly 
 to her side. 
 
 "Won't you play one more?" he asked. "Just one; 
 it's my favourite." 
 
 "Why, certainly. What is it?" 
 
 "The Ninety and Nine. It's number seven-seventy- 
 nine. And won't you sing it, miss? I haven't heard it 
 sung for a long time, though I read it most every day." 
 
 Having played the air, Nell began to sing, and as 
 her clear, sweet voice welled forth, Joe leaned eagerly 
 forward so as not to miss a word. There were tears 
 in his eyes, but his face was beaming with joy and 
 peace. Nell sang the hymn through, and when she 
 finished and the last throbbing notes of the organ 
 ceased, a sobbing moan drifted up the aisle of the old 
 church. Both Nell and Joe turned quickly around, and 
 to their surprise they saw a woman kneeling upon the 
 floor with her face buried in her hands. 
 
 "Jean, my Jean!" Joe cried, as he sprang from his 
 seat, hurried down the aisle and caught his daughter 
 in his arms. Then there was silence, broken only by 
 the sobs of the kneeling girl. 
 
 Nell stood near and watched them, uncertain what 
 
THE CHALLENGE 293 
 
 to do. She was deeply affected by this scene, and 
 thought it best that the two should be alone. Softly 
 she moved toward the door, and had almost reached 
 it, when Jean sprang after her and caught her by the 
 arm. 
 
 "Don't go, Nell," she cried, "until you have for- 
 given me. Tell me you forgive me," and once more 
 Jean fell upon her knees and seized Nell's hand in 
 hers, and held it with a firm grip. 
 
 Stooping, Nell placed her disengaged arm lovingly 
 about the girl's body, and kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 "I forgive you all, Jean," she said. "So get up. 
 Why should you kneel to me?" 
 
 "And you know? You understand?" Jean asked, 
 lifting up her pale face. 
 
 "Yes, I think I know everything, and you have al- 
 ways had my sincere sympathy. But how did you hap- 
 pen to come here?" 
 
 "I wanted to see the old church once more, where 
 I used to worship, and was so happy in the years now 
 gone forever. I did not expect to find any one here, 
 and was greatly surprised when I heard you singing. 
 It was that old hymn which affected me so much, and 
 broke me down completely." 
 
 "I am so glad that you came just when you did," 
 Nell replied. "You have been in my thoughts day and 
 night, and I knew that you would come to see me some 
 day. You will come, will you not?" 
 
 But Jean shook her head and looked longingly around 
 the cburch, as if taking a final farewell of all the ob- 
 jects which were so dear and familiar to her. 
 
 "I am going away," she quietly said, "and may 
 never be back again." 
 
294 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 "Don't say that, Jean," her father implored. "Why 
 should you leave us when we want you so much? Your 
 mother's heart is aching for her little girl." 
 
 "I know it, I know it, daddy dear. I have been 
 very bad and cruel to you both. But I have some- 
 thing to wipe out, and I shall never rest content until 
 I have done what I can to atone for my past sad mis- 
 take in life." 
 
 "Where are you going, Jean?" Nell asked. 
 
 "I cannot tell you now. But it is a great work to 
 which I am going, and some day you will be proud of 
 me, and so will the people of Rixton. They scorn me 
 now, and they surely have good reason for doing so." 
 
 "But, Jean darling, you will tell us where you are 
 going before you leave, will you not?" her father asked. 
 "You will come home first?" 
 
 "Yes, I shall go with you now. And in a few days 
 you will all know where I am going, and what I ex- 
 pect to do. Come, daddy, let us go. Good-bye, Nell, 
 I shall see you before I leave." 
 
 Taking her father by the arm, she led him from the 
 church, and up the lane leading to the main road. 
 Nell watched them until they had disappeared from 
 view. She then closed the church and hurried across 
 the field, for it was getting late and her father would 
 be waiting for her. But her heart was lighter than 
 it had been for days. Jean was her old self again, and 
 she was so thankful. But she wondered where she was 
 going, and what she was about to do. That it was some- 
 thing noble, she could tell by the expression of hope 
 in Jean's eyes, and the look of animation which had 
 overspread her face as she told about her intended 
 departure. 
 
THE CHALLENGE 295 
 
 When Nell reached the church Sunday afternoon, 
 she found a large number of people already there. It 
 had been rumoured that the Bishop was to hold the 
 service, and it was expected that he would speak about 
 the war, and also have something to say concerning 
 the new clergyman who was to come to the parish. 
 
 Nell had not been idle since Friday, and Saturday 
 night the first choir practice in months had been held. 
 The members were now all in their places as she en- 
 tered the church and went at once to the organ. Hav- 
 ing arranged her books, she next placed a list of hymns 
 in a hymn book and took it into the vestry room for 
 the clergyman's use. It was a most perfect August 
 afternoon, and through the open vestry came the fresh 
 air laden with perfume of meadow and forest, and the 
 music of birds. 
 
 Having placed the book on the little table, Nell looked 
 around the room to see that everything was arranged 
 in its proper place. And as she stood there, an auto 
 swung up and stopped just outside the open door. 
 Glancing quickly around, Nell saw a man in khaki 
 alight from the car, with a small grip in his hand, and 
 step into the vestry. He paused in pleased surprise 
 when he saw who was in the room, and at once held 
 out his hand. 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss Strong,' ' he be- 
 gan. "I did not expect to find you here." 
 
 "Mr. Handyman!" Nell gasped, as she allowed her 
 hand to remain in his for a few seconds. "I had no 
 idea of seeing you here to-day. Where is the cler- 
 gyman ? ' ' 
 
 "Right here," Douglas smiled. "Don't you under- 
 stand?" 
 
296 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 • V 
 
 Ton!*' and the colour suddenly left Nell's cheeks 
 It seemed as if she had not heard aright. 
 
 * 'Yes, I am to take the service to-day. Will you for 
 give me?" 
 
 Nell stood for a few seconds uncertain what to do 
 or say. Her mind was in a tumult. She had imagined 
 many things as to Douglas' identity, but never once 
 had she suspected him of being a clergyman. 
 
 "There are the hymns," she at length told him, 
 steadying her voice as much as possible. "It is service 
 time, and the people are getting impatient." 
 
 Without another word she walked out of the vestry. 
 She tried to be calm, but her hands trembled as she 
 began to play, and it appeared to her that all must 
 notice her agitation. Never had the church seemed 
 so hot, and she longed to be away by herself that she 
 might think over the startling discovery. 
 
 There was almost a sensation in the church that 
 afternoon when Douglas appeared and gave out the 
 opening hymn. An intense silence ensued, broken only 
 by the sweet organ notes. Very few in the congre- 
 gation thought of singing, as they were too busy whis- 
 pering to one another. Jake Jukes stood dumbfounded. 
 He could not believe his eyes, and paid no heed to his 
 wife who kept nudging his arm. Empty's mouth was 
 wide open and his eyes were fairly starting out of his 
 head. His mother, too, was greatly affected, and her 
 hand trembled so much that she could hardly hold 
 her hymn book. Even Joe Benton forgot to follow 
 the words, and gazed intently upon the clergyman. 
 
 But the greatest feeling of consternation was in the 
 pew where the Stubbles sat. They were all there ex- 
 cept Ben, and the sisters were dressed in their finest. 
 
THE CHALLENGE 297 
 
 For once they forgot about their clothes, and stared with 
 undisguised wonder upon the white-robed man before 
 them. Simon Stubbles stood like a statue. It had taken 
 him only an instant to comprehend the whole situation. 
 He knew now why the clergyman had come to Rixton 
 disguised as a farm-hand. It was to spy out the land, 
 and to ascertain what was the trouble in Church mat- 
 ters. Fear and anger were blended as he watched 
 Douglas ' every movement, and a deep sigh escaped his 
 lips as he realised his helplessness. 
 
 No one slept during the sermon that day. Nell was 
 the only one who did not hear it all. She knew that 
 Douglas was explaining his reasons for coming to Rix- 
 ton in disguise, and he explained them well. But her 
 mind wandered, and she thought of many things which 
 had happened during the past weeks and which at the 
 time had puzzled her. But now she saw them in a dif- 
 ferent light. Her attention was arrested as Douglas 
 began to tell why he was not coming to the parish as 
 rector. The war had made the change. He had offered 
 to go to the front as chaplain, and he had been ac- 
 cepted. His friend, Charles Garton, was raising a bat- 
 talion and men were being called to the Colours. ' ' How 
 many will go from this parish?" he asked in conclu- 
 sion. "Many of you are of Loyalist descent, so I be- 
 lieve, and you cannot easily forget what your ances- 
 tors endured in their devotion to the flag of the clus- 
 tered crosses. All that the old flag stands for is now 
 at stake, and every one must do his part to keep it 
 floating as proudly as of yore. I now challenge the 
 young men of this parish to enlist as soon as possible, 
 and unite with the battalion which is being formed in 
 the city. If you do, I shall be your chaplain, and a 
 
298 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 great pleasure it will be for us to go overseas together 
 to support the brave men who are so anxiously await- 
 ing the Column of Relief. Do not delay. Make up 
 your minds at once. The need is great. Your King 
 and country are calling you." 
 
 Never had Nell heard such singing in that old church 
 as she did ir the closing hymn of "Onward, Christian 
 Soldiers." All sang it with a new spirit and a power 
 that could not be mistaken. The sermon had made a 
 deep impression, and it was discussed for weeks after- 
 wards. 
 
 When the service was over, Douglas was at once sur- 
 rounded by an enthusiastic crowd, for every one wished 
 to shake hands with him and give him a word of wel- 
 come. He mentally compared this reception with his 
 first arrival in the parish. It was really a victory, and 
 he felt that should he remain he would not be lacking 
 in loyal supporters. 
 
 But there was one person Douglas wished to see most 
 of all, and as soon as he could free himself from the 
 throng, he turned around toward the organ. But he 
 looked in vain, for Nell was not there, neither was she 
 anywhere in the church. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 BY THE OLD PINE TREE 
 
 WHILE Douglas was talking to the people, Nell 
 had slipped out of the church by way of the 
 vestry room. She wanted to be alone that she might 
 think. Her head was aching, and the fresh air made 
 her feel better. She went straight across the field to- 
 ward her own home, following the path she had so 
 often travelled. This led her to the old pine where 
 she and Douglas had stood on that beautiful day which 
 now seemed so long ago. 
 
 Here she stopped and looked out over the river. 
 The water was as clear as glass, and she could see her 
 reflection in the clear depths. Nell believed she was 
 safe here from all interruption, for those who had been 
 at church would go home by the main road. Her mind 
 was greatly agitated, and after a while she sat down 
 by the side of the tree and leaned her head against 
 the trunk. Her face bore a strained look, and her eyes 
 were dry. She felt that she must now banish Douglas 
 from her mind forever. Why had he deceived her? 
 she asked herself over and over again. Why had he 
 come into her life, bringing such joy to her lonely 
 heart, and then dispelling it all in one brief hour ? If he 
 had only remained the same ordinary man as when 
 working for Jake Jukes, how happy she would be. She 
 could love him then with all the ardour of a true, pure 
 
 299 
 
300 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 woman. But a clergyman in disguise! The thought 
 repelled and stung her, even though she knew why he 
 had done it. Henceforth, he would be a changed man, 
 so she believed, hedged about by the dignity and con- 
 ventions of his position, and no longer the free and com- 
 panionable John Handyman as she had known him. 
 
 As she sat thus and thought, her mind gradually 
 grew calmer, and she became more self-possessed. She 
 even chided herself for feeling so depressed. What 
 was John Handyman to her, anyway? Merely an ac- 
 quaintance, whom she had known but a few weeks. She 
 really knew nothing about his past life, for he had been 
 most guarded in speaking about himself. Perhaps he 
 was already engaged to some girl, and he may have 
 been with her during his absence from Rixton. She 
 had no guarantee that he loved her, although she be- 
 lieved that he liked to be with her. She recalled how 
 he had held her hand in his and had looked into her 
 eyes in a way that had thrilled her whole being. But 
 no matter where he might go or what he might become, 
 the memory would be ever dear to her. He would never 
 know of her love for him, and the world would not have 
 the slightest suspicion of the deep things of her heart. 
 She would go on her way as in the past, and none would 
 be the wiser. 
 
 Nell was now more like her old self, and as people 
 knew her. Her self-reliant and reserved nature had al- 
 ways added a certain dignity to her personal charms. 
 It would, therefore, have been a great surprise to 
 many could they have looked into her heart on this 
 beautiful afternoon and discovered the secret. They 
 would then have found how deep are the real wells of 
 life; that they who feel most keenly say the least, and 
 
BY THE OLD PINE TREE 301 
 
 that the passionate love of a noble woman is often ex- 
 pressed in simple outward acts of gentleness, mercy 
 and truth. 
 
 For about half an hour Nell sat there, although the 
 passing of time never once occurred to her. She might 
 have remained thus for the rest of the afternoon, had 
 she not been suddenly aroused by the sound of ap- 
 proaching footsteps. Glancing around, great was her 
 astonishment and embarrassment to see the very one 
 who was in her thoughts hurrying toward her. 
 
 As Nell sprang to her feet, her heart was beating 
 rapidly, and the rich blood mantled her cheeks and 
 brow, making her more charming than ever, so Doug- 
 las thought. His face was radiant, and his eyes glowed 
 with the intensity of love. His impulsive nature could 
 brook no further delay, neither did mere formal words 
 of affection fall from his lips. Instead, he stepped 
 quickly forward, caught Nell in his arms, and im- 
 printed a kiss upon her trembling lips. 
 
 So great was Nell's surprise at this sudden and au- 
 dacious act, that she was rendered almost powerless. 
 A joy surpassing words possessed her, and she longed 
 to remain forever in her lover's strong embrace. But 
 in a few seconds, a feeling of maidenly reserve swept 
 over her, and she tore away the encircling arms. 
 
 "How dare you do such a thing?" she demanded. 
 But the tone of her voice and the expression in her 
 eyes caused Douglas to laugh with rapturous joy. 
 
 "You must get up more fire than that if you expect 
 to frighten me," he told her. 
 
 "But how could you? How did you dare without 
 permission?" Nell faltered. 
 
 "My heart gave permission; you must blame it. 
 
302 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 And, oh, Nell, tell me that you love me," he pleaded. 
 "If you do, then you will forgive everything. Surely 
 your love must respond to mine." 
 
 To these passionate words Nell made no reply. She 
 was too greatly overcome to utter a word so sudden 
 and overwhelming had been the change during the 
 last few minutes. Her form trembled from the vehe- 
 mence of her emotion, and then the tears, which for so 
 long had been restrained, came to her relief, and, sink- 
 ing upon the ground, she buried her face in her hands 
 and sobbed like a child. 
 
 1 ' Nell ! Nell ! ' ' Douglas cried, dropping by her side, 
 and placing his arms tenderly around her. "What 
 have I done? Have I offended you? Oh, tell me; tell 
 me quick. I didn't mean to make you feel badly. For- 
 give me; please forgive me!" 
 
 "I am only foolish, that is all," was the sobbing re- 
 ply, as Nell lifted her head and endeavoured to brush 
 away the tears. "I didn't mean to give way like this. 
 But I am weak, and all this is so unexpected." 
 
 "And you forgive me? You are not offended?" 
 
 In reply, Nell threw her arms impetuously about his 
 neck, and laid her face close to his. 
 
 "There is my answer," she whispered. "Are you 
 satisfied now?" 
 
 Never had the old pine witnessed such a scene of 
 perfect bliss as that which then took place at its foot. 
 It gave no sign, however, that it saw anything, but 
 kept its secret well. It was in league with the happy 
 lovers, and never babbled its knowledge. 
 
 "It was here where I first saw you, Nell," Douglas 
 told her, as they nestled close to each other upon the 
 
BY THE OLD PINE TREE 303 
 
 sand. "How well I remember that night, and how 
 entranced I was with your playing." 
 
 " Don't speak of that time any more," Nell pleaded. 
 "It seems now like a terrible dream. Oh, how that 
 man followed me, and tried to get me in his power." 
 
 "But Ben is gone now, darling, and can trouble 
 you no more. It is not likely that he will ever come 
 back to this place. He has been taught a severe les- 
 son, and I trust it will do him good." 
 
 "Oh, I hope so," and a tremor shook Nell's body. 
 "I want to forget him and those awful days that 
 are past." 
 
 "And you must forget, Nell, in the joy of the pres- 
 ent. Oh, I can hardly believe it is true that you love 
 me. I was almost frightened out of my wits lest you 
 should refuse me." 
 
 "You acted like it, didn't you?" Nell bantered, turn- 
 ing her happy face to his. "Why, you swept down 
 upon me like a cyclone, and had me in your arms be- 
 fore I could utter a word of protest." 
 
 "I was afraid, darling; that was the reason. You 
 see, I knew what a shock I gave you when I bounced 
 into the vestry. And then all through the service I 
 was watching you, and noticed how agitated you were. 
 I wanted to speak to you at once when the service 
 was over, but, no, I was captured by the whole con- 
 gregation and when at last I was able to look around, 
 you were nowhere to be seen. Suspecting that you 
 might be here, I hurried over as fast as I could, and 
 when I beheld you standing by this tree looking a thou- 
 sand times more lovely than ever, I lost my head com- 
 pletely, and, oh, you know the rest. It was all your 
 fault, darling, and so don 't blame me. If you will per- 
 
304 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 sist in being so charming, you must put up with the 
 result." 
 
 ''But was that really the whole reason?" Nell asked. 
 "Wasn't there something else? You said you were 
 afraid, did you not?" 
 
 "Now you are cornering me," Douglas laughed. 
 "Yes, I confess I was afraid of the questions you might 
 ask about my strange behaviour in coming to Rixton in 
 disguise. I felt that you were offended, and so great 
 was my love, I was in no mood to have parts of the 
 Catechism hurled at me. Just imagine my standing 
 before you like a child, and being asked, 'What is your 
 name?' and meekly answering, 'Douglas Stanton, 
 ma'm.' Then, 'Who gave you this name?' and I would 
 say that my godfathers and godmothers gave it to me 
 in my baptism. And you would ask me, 'Why are you 
 so ashamed of your name that you take another ? ' Now, 
 as that is not in the Catechism, it would have been more 
 difficult for me to answer, and so I would have blun- 
 dered and stumbled and made such a fool of myself that 
 you would have despised me. No, I could not endure 
 that, and so I acted with audacious boldness. You are 
 not sorry, are you?" 
 
 ' ' No, I am glad now, although it was a terrible shock 
 to me at first. I had no idea that you loved me so much. 
 Isn't it wonderful!" 
 
 "I loved you ever since I first saw you, Nell," and 
 Douglas drew her closer to him. "And I shall love 
 you always. Nothing can separate us now." 
 
 "But this war will," was the low response. "You 
 are going away, and I may never see you again. How 
 can I get along without you?" 
 
BY THE OLD PINE TREE 305 
 
 "Only for a while, darling. I shall come back to 
 you some day, and while we are parted from each other, 
 our love will support us and keep us strong and brave. 
 But I shall not be leaving for several weeks yet, so dur- 
 ing that time we can be so happy together. " 
 
 "I know it, I know it," Nell replied. "But I am so 
 selfish, and now that I am sure of your love I want you 
 with me always. I must remember, though, what so 
 many are sacrificing for the sake of their King and 
 country, and I must be brave, too. I suppose others will 
 be going from this parish. I do not see how the young 
 men can remain behind, especially after your challenge 
 to them to-day." 
 
 1 ' I believe a number of them will go at once. Several 
 spoke to me after service and expressed their intention 
 of enlisting." 
 
 "I am so glad that the people this afternoon were 
 kind to you, Douglas. How terrible if they had been 
 angry at what you did. It would make it very hard for 
 me when you are away, as I should feel so badly to 
 listen to their severe criticisms." 
 
 "You need not worry about that now, Nell. The 
 people are very friendly, and most willing to do all 
 they can to assist the new clergyman who will come 
 here in my stead. I do not know his name, but the 
 Bishop told me that he would be most careful in his 
 choice of a man. Even Simon Stubbles shook hands 
 with me this afternoon, and wished me good luck. Most 
 likely he is delighted to know that I am leaving the 
 place. Anyway, I am certain that he will behave him- 
 self after this." 
 
 low I wish I could go, too," Nell remarked, as she 
 
306 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 played with her left hand in the yielding sand. "But 
 1 am only a woman, and must remain behind. " 
 
 "You have a noble work to do here, Nell. Your 
 father needs your care, and, besides, the thought of 
 you will cheer and encourage me. And I shall need 
 your prayers as well. I am sure they will help me no 
 matter where I am. But, there, suppose we let the 
 future take care of itself. We have each other now, 
 and we need not worry about troubles that may never 
 come. ' ' 
 
 "Perhaps it is better," and Nell gave a little sigh. 
 "But I feel selfish in being so very happy. I am 
 thinking of poor Jean. I suppose her love was jus* 
 as deep as mine, and now she is broken-hearted. I won- 
 der what will become of her? She is going away, so 
 she told me when I saw her in the church on Friday, 
 but she did not say what she is going to do." 
 
 "Why, I forgot to tell you," Douglas replied. "The 
 thought of you banished everything else from my mind. 
 Jean is going overseas as a Red Cross nurse." 
 
 "As a nurse!" Nell exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes. Major Garton, he is that now, you see, took a 
 great interest in her, and when he found that she had 
 graduated as a nurse from the city hospital, he was 
 able to get her the position without any difficulty." 
 
 "And did she ask to be allowed to go?" 
 
 "Yes, she made application, and begged Garton to 
 do what he could for her. I believe she is quite happy 
 at the thought of going." 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad," and Nell clasped her hands 
 before her. "She will have something to live for now, 
 and I know that she will do a noble work." 
 
BY THE OLD PINE TREE 307 
 
 "So you will have nothing more to worry about now, 
 will you, darling? " and Douglas kissed her again. 
 "Everything has come out all right at last, as it will 
 in the future." 
 
 "I have no fears nor troubles now since I have your 
 love," and Nell lifted her shining eyes to his. 
 
 "Not even your father and Nan when we tell them 
 of our happiness, eh? Perhaps they may make things 
 uncomfortable for us." 
 
 "No, I am not afraid of them," Nell laughingly re- 
 plied. "Father is very fond of you, and Nan will be 
 delighted when she hears of it." 
 
 "And Empty will have a great piece of news to tell, 
 won't he? We must go over to-morrow and get Mrs. 
 Dempster's blessing." 
 
 "And dear old Joe's, too. His will be a blessing 
 worth while." 
 
 "What about Jake? We must not forget him, and 
 his 'Great punkins!' Why, he'll need a whole field of 
 them to express his astonishment. ' ' 
 
 They both laughed heartily like two children at the 
 thought of the good-natured farmer. Then Nell rose 
 to her feet. 
 
 "My, it is getting late!" she exclaimed, "and what 
 will father say? We must go home at once. We shall 
 have a supper to-night that will be worth while." 
 
 Along the sandy beach they made their way. The 
 old pine seemed to stand a little straighter, as if proud 
 of what it had just witnessed. The birds flitted to and 
 fro, and their chirpings sounded like sweet congratula- 
 tions. Even the branches of the trees along the shore 
 appeared to bend a little lower to bestow their silent 
 
308 THE UNKNOWN WRESTLER 
 
 benediction. All the sweet and beautiful things of 
 Nature were in glad attune with the young lovers as 
 they turned their faces toward the unknown future 
 lying golden and mystic in the lap of the years. 
 
ZANE GREY'S NOVELS 
 
 »■ ■ ■ ; 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's lit 
 THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS 
 
 A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes the center of frontier war 
 fare. Her loyal superintendent rescues her when she is captured by bandits. A 
 surprising climax bringrs the story to a delightful close. 
 
 THE RAINBOW TRAIL 
 
 The story of a young clergyman who becomes a wanderer in the great westers 
 uplands— until at last love and faith awake. 
 
 DESERT GOLD 
 
 The story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with the finding 
 Of the gold which two prospectors hadT willed to the girl vho is the story's heroine. 
 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE 
 
 A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon authority 
 ruled. The prosecution of Jane Withersteen is the tliemetof the story. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN 
 
 This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, known as the. 
 preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert and of a hunt in "that 
 wonderful country of deep canons and giant pines." 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT 
 
 A lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New 
 Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands that the girl shall become 
 the second wife of one of the Mormons— Well, that's the problem of this great story. 
 
 THE SHORT STOP 
 
 The young hero, tiring of his factory grind, starts out to win fame and fortune as 
 t> professional ball player. His hard knocks at the start are followed by such success 
 as clean sportsmanship, courage and honesty ought to win. 
 
 BETT Y ZANE 
 
 This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young sister ol 
 •Id Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. 
 
 THE LONE STAR RANGER 
 
 After killing a man in self defense, Buck Duane becomes an outlaw along the 
 Texas border. In a camp on the Mexican side of the river, he finds a young girl held 
 prisoner, and in attempting to rescue her, brings down upon himself the wrath of her 
 captors and henceforth is hunted on one side by honest men, on the other by outlaws. 
 
 - THE BORDER LEGION 
 
 Joan Handle, in a spirit of anger, sent Jim Cleve out to a lawless Western mining 
 camp, to prove his mettle. Then realizing that she loved him— she followed him out. 
 On her way, she is captured by a bandit band, and trouble begins when she shoots 
 Kells, the leader— and nurses him to health again. Here enters another romance- 
 when Joan, disguised as an outlaw, observes Jim, in the throes of dissipation. A gold 
 etrike, a thrilling robbery— gambling and gun play carry you along breathlessly. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS, "" 
 
 By Helen Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey 
 
 The life story of Colonel William F. Cody, " Buffalo Bill." as told by his sister and 
 Zane Grey. It begin* with his boyhood in Iowa and his first encounter with an In- 
 dian. We see " Bill " as a pony express rider, then near Fort Sumter as Chief of 
 the Scouts, and later engaged in the most dangerous Indian campaigns. There is 
 also a very interesting account of the travels of "The Wild West" Show. No char- 
 acter In public life makes a stronger appeal to the imagination of America than 
 " Buffalo Bill," whose daring and bravery made him famous. ^____^ 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's Ifst 
 
 MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 This book has a fairy-story touch, ^counterbalanced by 
 the sturdy reality of struggle, sacrifice, and resulting peace 
 and power of a mother's experiences. 
 
 SATURDAY'S CHILD. 
 
 Frontispiece by F. GrahanfCootes. 
 
 Out on the Pacific coast a normal girl, obscure and lovely, 
 makes^ a quest for | happiness. She passes through three 
 stages — poverty, wealth and service — and works out a 
 creditable salvation. 
 
 THE RICH MRS. BURGOYNE. 
 
 Illustrated by Lucius H. Hitchcock. s 
 
 The story gof a sensible woman who^keeps within her 
 means, refuses to be swamped by social engagements, lives 
 a normal human life^of varied interests, and has her own 
 romance. 
 
 THE STORY OF JTJLIATAGE. 
 
 Frontispiece by Allan Gilbert. 
 
 How Julia [Page, reared in rather unpromising surround* 
 sngs, lifted herself through sheer determination to a higher 
 plane of life. 
 
 THE HEART OF RACHAEL. 
 Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. 
 
 Rachael is called upon to solve many problems, and in 
 working out these, there is shown the beauty and strength 
 of soul of one of fiction's most appealing characters. 
 
 Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
BOOTH TARKINGTON'S 
 NOVELS 
 
 May tw had wherever books art sold. Astf for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. 
 
 No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed 
 the immortal young people of this story. Its humor is irre- 
 sistible and reminiscent of the time when the reader was 
 Seventeen. 
 
 PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. 
 
 This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, hu- 
 morous, tragic things which are locked secrets to most older 
 folks. It is a finished, exquisite work. 
 
 PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. 
 
 Like " Penrod " and " Seventeen," this book contains 
 some remarkable phases of real boyhood and some of the best 
 stories of juvenile prankishness that have ever been written. 
 
 THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. 
 
 Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who re- 
 volts against his father's plans for him to be a servitor of 
 big business. The love of a fine girl turns Bibb's life from 
 failure to success. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. 
 
 A story of love and politics, — more especially a picture of 
 a country editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book 
 lies in the love interest. 
 
 THE FLIRT. IUustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. 
 
 The " Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's 
 engagement, drives one man to suicide, causes the murder 
 of another, leads another to lose his fortune, and in the end 
 marries a stupid and unpromising suitor, leaving the really 
 worthy one to marry her sister. 
 
 AJt for Complete free Hat of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
JACK LO NDON'S NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn. 
 
 This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing 
 experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been ac- 
 quainted with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John 
 Barleycorn. It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully 
 conveys an unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book. 
 rHE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper. I 
 
 The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster 
 and ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and 
 love and marry. They tramp from one end of California to the 
 other, and in the Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is 
 to be their salvation. 
 BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations. 
 
 The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the 
 foundations of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing 
 his fortunes to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money 
 kings, and recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts 
 out asja merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to 
 drinking and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time 
 he falls in love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not 
 her hand and then — but read the story! 
 A SON OF THE SUN . Illustrated by A. O.Fischer and C.W. Ashley. 
 
 David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came 
 from England to the South Seas in seai-ch of adventure . Tanned 
 like a native and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun. 
 The hfe appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy. 
 THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin and 
 Charles Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper. 
 
 A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits 
 could be. Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is pictur- 
 esque color to transport the reader to primitive scenes.> 
 THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward. 
 
 Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious 
 iife into the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A 
 novel of adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every 
 >*eader wil hail with delight. 
 ffTHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 
 <: \Vhite Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the 
 frozen north ; he gradually comes under the spell of man's com- 
 panionship, and surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. 
 Thereafter he is man's loving slave. 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ 
 
 May be had wherevar books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list 
 
 THE BEST MAN 
 
 Through a strange series of adventures a young man finds 
 himself propelled up the aisle of a church and married to a 
 strange girl. 
 
 A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 On her way West the heroine steps off by mistake at a lonely 
 watertank into a maze of thrilling events. 
 
 THE ENCHANTED BARN 
 
 Every member of the family will enjoy this spirited chronicle 
 of a young girl's resourcefulness and pluck, and the secret of 
 the ' ' enchanted ' ' barn. 
 
 THE WITNESS 
 
 The fascinating story of the enormous change an incident 
 wrought in a man's life. 
 
 MARCIA SCHUYLER 
 
 A picture of ideal girlhood set in the time of full skirts and 
 poke bonnets. 
 
 LP, MICHAEL! 
 
 A story of unfailing appeal to all who love and understand boys. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE DESERT 
 
 An intensely moving love story of a man of the desert and a 
 girl of the East pictured against the background of the Far West I 
 
 PHOEBE DEANE 
 
 A tense and charming love story, told with a grace and a fer- 
 vor with which only Mrs. Lutz could tell it. 
 
 DAWN OF THE MORNING 
 
 A romance of the last century with all of its old-fashioned 
 charm. A companion volume to " Marcia Schuyler" and 
 "Phoebe Deane." 
 
 A*k for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
"STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY 
 
 GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
 May be had wherevsr books aro sold. Ask for Grosset ft Dunlap's list. 
 
 JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR 
 
 Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild things, 
 her faith in life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. 
 Her faith and sincerity catch at your heart strings. This 
 book has all of the mystery and tense action of the other 
 Storm Country books. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary 
 Pickford made her reputation as a motion picture actress. 
 How love acts upon a temperament such as hers — a tem- 
 perament that makes a woman an angel or an outcast, ac- 
 cording to the character of the man she loves — is the 
 theme of the story. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 The sequel to " Tess of the Storm Country," with the 
 same wild background, with its half-gypsy life of the squat- 
 ters — tempestuous, passionate, brooding. Tess learns the 
 " secret " of her birth and finds happiness and love through 
 her boundless faith in life. 
 
 FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING 
 
 A haunting story with its scene laid near the country 
 familiar to readers of " Tess of the Storm Country." 
 
 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 " Jinny " Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a pas- 
 sionate yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe 
 Grandoken, a crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her 
 romance is full of power and glory and tenderness. 
 
 Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
R. M. BOW ER'S NOVELS 
 
 May be bad wherever books are soW. Ask for Grosset and Ounlap's list 
 
 CHIP OF THE FLYING U. Wherein the 1 ove affairs of Chip and 
 
 Delia Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY. A lively and amusing story, dealing with 
 
 the adventures of eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys^ 
 flER PRAIRIE KNiGHT. Describing a gay party of Easterner^ 
 
 who exchange a cottage at Newport for a Montana ranch-house,' 
 THE RANGE DWELLERS. Spirited action, a range feud be- 
 
 two famiiiea, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make this a bright, 
 
 jolly story. 
 THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS. A vivid portrayal of the 
 
 experience of an Eastern author among the cowboys. 
 THE LONESOME TRAIL. A little branch of sage brush and the 
 
 recollection of a pair of large brown eyes upset "Weary" David- 
 son's plans. 
 THE LONG SHADOW. A vigorous Western story, sparkling with 
 
 the free outdoor life of a mountain ranch. It is a fine love story. 
 GOOD INDIAN. A stirring romance of life on an Idaho ranch. 
 FLYING U RANCH. Another delightful story about Chip and 
 
 his pals. 
 THE FLYING U'S LAST STAND. An amusing account of Chip 
 
 and the other boys opposing a party of school teachers. 
 THE UPHILL CLIMB. A story of a mountain ranch and of a 
 
 man's hard fight on the uphill road to manliness. 
 TH E PHANTOM HERD. The title of a moving-picture staged hi 
 
 New Mexico by the "Flying U " boys. 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX. The " Flying U " boys stage 
 
 a fake bank robbery for film purposes which precedes a real one 
 
 for lust of gold. 
 THE GRINGOS. A story of love and adventure on a ranch in 
 
 California. 
 STARR OF THE DESERT. A New Mexico ranch story of mys- 
 tery and adventure. 
 THE LOOKOUT MAN. A Northern California story full of action, 
 
 excitement and love. 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS 
 
 May be had wherever bocks are sold. Ask for Cresset ft Duniap's list 
 
 WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. 
 Illustrated by C. D. Williams. 
 
 One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been 
 
 written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable 
 and thoroughly human. 
 
 i jUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 
 
 Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious 
 mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which 
 Is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. 
 
 THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. 
 With four full page illustrations. 
 
 This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate chil- 
 dren whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, 
 seldom seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tender- 
 ness. A charming play as dramatized by the author. 
 
 REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas 
 Wiggin. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood — Rebecca's artistic, 
 unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of 
 austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenominal 
 dramatic record. 
 
 NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that 
 carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 REBECCA MARY , By Annie Hamilton Donnelh 
 Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. 
 
 This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque 
 little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a pa* 
 thos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. 
 
 EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin, 
 Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. 
 
 Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. 
 She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is 
 wonderfully human. 
 
 Ask for com$kte fret list of G. & D. Popular Cojtyrighed Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St.. New York 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 
 GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grossst and Dunlap's list. 
 
 GRAUSTARK. Illustrated with Scenes from the Play. 
 
 With the appearance of this novel, the author introduced a new 
 type of story and won for himself a perpetual reading public. It 
 is the story of love behind a throne in a new and strange country. 
 
 BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK, Illustrations by Harrison Fisher. 
 
 This is a sequel to " Graustark." A bewitching American girl 
 visits the little principality and there has a romantic love affair. 
 
 PRINCE OF GRAUSTARK. Illustrations by A. I. Keller. 
 
 The Prince of Graustark is none other than the son of the hero- 
 ine of "Graustark." Beverly's daughter, and an American multi- 
 millionaire with a brilliant and lovely daughter also figure in thtr 
 story. 
 
 BREWSTER'S MILLIONS. 
 
 Illustrated with Scenes from the Photo-Play. 
 
 A youmg man, required to spend one million dollars in one year, 
 in order to inherit seven, accomplishes the task in this lively story. 
 
 COWARDICE COURT. 
 
 Illus. by Harrison Fisher and decorations by Theodore Hapgood. 
 
 A romance of love and adventure, the plot forming around a 
 social feud in the Adirondacks in which an English girl is tempted 
 into being a traitor by a romantic young American. 
 
 THE HOLLOW OF HER HAND. Illustrated by A. I. Keller. 
 
 A story of modern New York, built around an ancient enmity, 
 born of the scorn of the aristocrat for one of inferior birth. 
 
 WHAT'S-HIS-NAME. Illustrations by Harrison Fisher. 
 
 " Whafs-His-Name " is the husband of a beautiful and popula? 
 actress who is billboarded on Broadway under an assumed name. 
 The very opposite manner in which these two live their lives brings 
 a dramatic climax to the story. 
 
 A»k for Complete free Hit •/ G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
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 JOHN FOX, JR'S. 
 
 STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
 May be had wharever books are sold. Ask for Grcsset and Doalap's list 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE . 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The "lonesome pine" from which the 
 story takes its name was a tall tree that 
 stood in solitary splendor on a mountain 
 top. The fame of the pine lured a young 
 engineer through Kentucky to catch the 
 trail, and when he finally climbed to its 
 shelter he found not only the pine but the 
 foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved 
 to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of 
 these girlish foot-prints led the young 
 engineer a madder chase than "the trail 
 of the lonesome pine." 
 
 THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME 
 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "King- 
 dom Come." It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural 
 and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. 
 
 " Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor 
 whence he came — he had just wandered from door to door since 
 early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who 
 gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was 
 such a mystery — a charming waif, by the way, who could play 
 the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. / 
 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland* 
 the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moon- 
 shiner's son, and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely chris* 
 tened "The Blight." Two impetuous young Southerners' fall 
 under the spell of "The Blight's " charms and she learns what 
 a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the 
 mountaineers. 
 
 Included in this volume is " Hell fer-Sartain" and other 
 stories, some of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley 
 narratives. 
 
 Ask for complete fre* list »f G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 
 WINSTON CHURCHILL 
 
 THE INSIDE OF THE CUP. Illustrated by Howard Giles. 
 
 The Reverend John Hodder is called to a fashionable church in 
 a middle-western city. He knows little of modern problems and in 
 his theology is as orthodox as the rich men who control his churcfa 
 could desire. But the facts of modern life are thrust upon him; ar 
 awakening follows and in the end he works out a solution. 
 A FAR COUNTRY. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. 
 
 This novel is concerned with big problems of the day. As The 
 Inside of the Cup gets down to the essentials in its discussion of re- 
 ligion, so A Far Country deals in a story that is intense and dra- 
 matic, with other vital issues confronting the twentieth century. 
 A MODERN CHRONICLE. Illustrated by J. H. Gardner Soper. 
 
 This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal 
 Feminine, is throughout a profound study of a fascinating young 
 American woman. It is frankly a modern love story. 
 MR. CREWE'S CAREER. Illus. by A. I. Keller and Kinneys. 
 
 A new England state is under the political domination of a rail- 
 way and Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes a moment when the cause 
 of the people is being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to fur- 
 ther his own interest in a political way. The daughter of the rail- 
 way president plays no small part in the situation. 
 THE CROSSING. Illustrated by S. Adamson and L. Baylis. 
 
 Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie, the blazing of the Ken- 
 tucky wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of follow- 
 ers in Illinois, the beginning of civilization along the Ohio and 
 Mississippi, and the treasonable schemes against Washington. 
 CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn. 
 
 A deft blending of love and politics. A New Englander is the 
 hero, a crude man who rose to political prominence by his own pow- 
 ers, and then surrendered all for the love of a woman. 
 THE CELEBRITY. An episode. 
 
 An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of per- 
 sonalities bet ween a celebrated author and a bicycle salesman. It 
 is the purest, keenest fun— and is American to the core. 
 THE CRISIS . Illustrated with scenes from the Photo-Play. 
 
 A book that presents the great crisis in our national life with 
 splendid power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a patriotism 
 that are inspiring. 
 RICHARD CARVEL. Illustrated by Malcolm Frazer. 
 
 An historical novel which gives a real and vivid picture of Co- 
 lonial times, and is good, clean, spirited reading in all its phase* and 
 interesting throughout. 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY 
 
 WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 
 
 MAVERICKS 
 
 A tale of the western frontier, where the " rustler " abounds. One of the sweetest 
 love stories ever told. 
 
 , A TEXAS RANGER 
 
 How a member of the border police saved the life of an innocent man, followed s. 
 fugitive to Wyoming:, and then passed throug-h deadly peril to ultimate happiness. 
 
 i WYOMING 
 
 In this vivid story the author brings out the turbid life of the frontier with all iti 
 engaging dash and vigor. 
 
 RIDGWAY OF MONTANA 
 
 The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining in- 
 dustries are the religion of the country. 
 
 BUCKY O'CONNOR 
 
 Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the dashing 
 spirit of the border. 
 CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT 
 
 A story of Arizona ; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws ; of a bitter feud be- 
 tween cattle-men and sheep-herders. 
 
 BRAND BLOTTERS 
 
 A story of the turbid life of the frontier with a charming love interest running 
 through its pagea. 
 STEVE YEAGER 
 
 A story brimful of excitement, with enough gun-play and adventure to suit anyone. 
 A DAUGHTER OF THE DONS 
 
 A Western story of romance and adventure, comprising a vivacious and stirring 
 tale. 
 THE HIGH GRADER 
 
 A breezy, pleasant and amusing love story of Western mining life. 
 THE PIRATE OF PANAMA 
 
 A tale of old-time pirates and of modern love, hate and adventure. 
 THE YUKON TRAIL 
 
 A crisply entertaining love story in the land where might makes right. 
 THE VISION SPLENDID 
 
 In which two cousins are contestants for the same prizes ; political honors and the 
 band of a girl. 
 THE SHERIFF'S SON 
 
 The hero finally conquers both himself and his enemies and wins the love of a 
 •wonderful girl. 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 
 
 1 
 
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 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 
 
 14 1937 
 
 
 
 
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 APR 29 1944 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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YB 32402 
 
 912837 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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