SIXTY-FIVE 
 
 Bnr JEAN K.BAIRD

 
 Crissman had opened the bucket and was laying out 
 his lunch. (See page 55.)
 
 SIXTY-FIVE 
 ON TIME 
 
 BY 
 
 JEAN K. BAIRD 
 
 Author of "Little Rhody," "Elizabeth Hobart at 
 
 Exeter Hall," " The Honor Girl," " Cash 
 
 Three," "Danny," etc. 
 
 [HALFTONES BY 
 ARTHUR DEBEBIAN 
 
 THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 CHICAGO AKRON, OHIO NEW YORK
 
 COFYRIGHT, 1909, 
 
 Bv THE SAALFIEU) PUB. CO.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A PROMOTION. . ; . : . >: . ... 7 
 
 II. THE RUMOR . . . . . , : ... 23 
 
 III. THE FIRST RUN 43 
 
 IV. THE AWAKENING . . 59 
 
 V. A NEED FOR THE LITTLE TIN Box . ., . 81 
 
 VI. INTO THE NEW HOME . . . . . . 97 
 
 VII. THE LUMBER ROAD . . . M -... . . 115 
 
 PART TWO 
 
 I. THE HOME IN THE CITY 129 
 
 II. PREPARATION FOR CAMP 147 
 
 III. THE GIRLS MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE . 163 
 
 IV. THE STORY OF UNCLE DOCTOR .... 181 
 V. THE NEW GUEST 195 
 
 VI. MARGERY WAGES WAR WITH UNCLE DOC- 
 TOR 211 
 
 VII. DIFFICULT HOURS FOR ALL 227 
 
 VIII. RECALLED . . 243 
 
 IX. THE DAWNING OF THE DAY . 259 
 
 2134174
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CRISSMAN HAD OPENED THE BUCKET AND WAS 
 LATINO OUT His LUNCH .... Frontispiece 
 
 AT His FIRST WORD THE GIRLS HAD CLUTCHED 
 EACH OTHER TIGHTLY 56 
 
 "You'vE MADE A NICE JOB OP IT, KEEPING ME 
 IN BED ALMOST A WEEK" 156 
 
 "HEY, THERE, CRISSMAN, YOU'RE CALLED FOR 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME!" . 232
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A PEOMOTION" 
 
 The characteristic features of the town 
 were great railroad shops where engines and 
 passenger coaches were constructed. These 
 were at the north side of town, lying close 
 to the foot of the mountains. Before them 
 stretched half a hundred tracks which for 
 the greater part of the time were filled with 
 freight cars and yard engines. They were 
 two miles long and from thirty to fifty 
 tracks wide, yet the freight during the ship- 
 ping seasons had been congested for days 
 blocked in so tight that the yard-master was 
 forced to exercise the greatest care and 
 judgment to clear the way. 
 
 7
 
 8 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 The town lay south of the tracks. A 
 workman risked life and limb should he at- 
 tempt to pass over the tracks among the 
 shifting engines, the hundreds of moving 
 cars, and at regular hours, the dash of the 
 flyers which went whizzing on to the station 
 at the west end. 
 
 To prevent accidents and protect the lives 
 of the men, the company had constructed 
 an iron bridge thirty feet above the tracks 
 and reaching from the shops to town. Over 
 this an army of three thousand skilled me- 
 chanics passed each noon hour on their way 
 to dinner; and at all hours, day and night, 
 the crews for the trains came and went, for 
 the yard also marked the division where 
 crews and engines were changed. 
 
 These trainmen were a happy set in spite 
 of the fact that their work was dangerous 
 and that they were out at all hours and in 
 all kinds of weather. 
 
 Sixty-five had but entered the yard when 
 the yard-master spoke to James Crissman, 
 the front brakeman. " You 're ordered to
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 9 
 
 report at the office the first thing, Jimmy, 
 my boy." 
 
 "What's doing?" 
 
 "Dunno nothing to the bad. So long." 
 He turned with watch in hand, waiting the 
 second until he could give the passenger 
 engineer orders to draw out from the sta- 
 tion. 
 
 Crissman, the brakeman, puckered up his 
 brow. A call to the superintendent's office 
 generally meant no good. He ran over his 
 conduct of the last few weeks. There was 
 nothing in that to cause alarm. He had 
 been on time. He had not stopped in a 
 saloon but once and then only for a lunch 
 for he was not a drinking man. He put 
 away his lanterns and flags and made his 
 way to the office. 
 
 The conference lasted but a few minutes. 
 Then Crissman hurried out and across the 
 great bridge toward home. He was hold- 
 ing his head high ; his lunch bucket swung in 
 his hand, and he whistled for joy. 
 
 He traversed the long, narrow street to-
 
 10 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 ward his home. Never before had he 
 covered the distance in so short a time. His 
 feet fairly flew. He entered the yard, kissed 
 the boy who ran to meet him, picked up 
 the toddling baby and tossed her high in the 
 air, and then turned to his wife. There was 
 no need to tell her that something unex- 
 pected had happened. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. "Do tell me, 
 Jim." 
 
 "Trump's been transferred to Sunbury. 
 He'll make the run from there here on Num- 
 ber Nine. That leaves a place on our crew 
 and I'm the man to step into it." 
 
 "Conductor, Jim? You don't mean it." 
 She made an effort to be calm but her knees 
 trembled under her so that she could not 
 stand. Sinking into a chair, she fanned 
 herself with her working apron. 
 
 "How things do come around," she said. 
 "Of course, I knew you'd get a raise some- 
 time, but I never for a moment thought it 
 would be so soon. What will you get?" 
 
 "Trump has never made less than a hun-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 11 
 
 dred and thirty dollars a month, and when 
 freight's heavy, he's gone up to one hundred 
 and sixty." 
 
 "To think of it! That'll be five dollars 
 a day on an average." 
 
 He nodded his head, dropped down on the 
 steps near which she sat, and mopped his 
 brow. "Whew, but I'm hot! I got over 
 that bridge on schedule time. I knew you'd 
 be glad to hear the news. As I turned down 
 Eighth Street, Kelly tried to flag me, but I 
 hurried on home. A hundred and sixty a 
 month. Think of it!" 
 
 "I'm thinking as hard as I can," said his 
 wife. She neither smiled nor laughed but 
 her voice had a little excited catch in it as 
 she spoke. The man looked at her with an 
 expression of satisfaction. He was so big 
 and strong while she was so dainty and 
 fragile that he often wondered what she 
 saw in him to love ; he often asked her, but 
 she replied evasively. 
 
 Now as he let his eye rest on her in ad- 
 miration she said as though she understood
 
 12 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 his thoughts, "It's the new dress I was mak- 
 ing. I put the last stitch in it this morning, 
 then I got at it and pressed it. I wanted to 
 have it on when you came home. I felt sure 
 that you'd be in about supper time." 
 
 "How'd you know?" 
 
 "Mr. Sapp passed here about dinner time. 
 He said that you had taken siding at Keat- 
 ing for the flyer. He said he caught a 
 glimpse of Wright in the cabin and knew 
 that you'd gone out with them." 
 
 "We'd been in before the flyer if there 
 hadn't been trouble with an air-brake. We 
 dragged along from Sinnamahoning to 
 Keating. We were so late there that we 
 had to take siding and wait for orders for 
 we knew the Buffalo was due." 
 
 She smoothed out her gown. "I rather 
 like my dress, though I wished I'd not made 
 short sleeves. Somehow it looks kind of 
 girlish to go about showing your arms." 
 
 "What if it does? Hain't you a girl? 
 Yes, I know what you're going to say but 
 you don't look it. If I didn't know, I'd
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 13 
 
 say you weren't a day over eighteen. That 
 dress is all right. It's a dandy. I tell you 
 what, Allie, you can get what you want with 
 this raise. I like to see a woman fixed up. 
 There'll be no use in you're doing without 
 anything you need." 
 
 "You talk as though I'd been wearing 
 rags and eating crusts. I've had all I need 
 ever since I've been married, and I could 
 have gotten along on less. There's plenty 
 of women who have." 
 
 "But you counted close to do it. You've 
 skimped and saved a penny many a time 
 when I would have let her go. I tell you 
 when M. A. R. told me this morning about 
 the raise I could scarcely wait until I got 
 across the bridge to tell the old woman and 
 the kids." He gave her arm a playful 
 pinch and, turning, picked up the children 
 and held one on each knee. 
 
 "What I am pleased with most of all is 
 about finishing paying for the house. You 
 don't know how I hated to pay out that in- 
 terest," she said with a sweet seriousness in
 
 14 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 her voice and expression. "Of course, I 
 knew it was less than we would have paid 
 out for rent, but just' the same it seemed 
 such a lot." 
 
 "But that's done for or will be soon. I 
 can pay off Ruley the day the money's due. 
 I tell you we haven't done so bad. The lot 
 has doubled in value since we took it. It's 
 worth three thousand now if it's worth a 
 cent. I could get that in cash any day and 
 five years from now it will be worth a good 
 bit more." 
 
 "The money's due in September. I sup- 
 pose it's a woman's way of being anxious, 
 but I won't be easy until every cent's paid." 
 
 "I bet on it; a woman's always looking 
 around for something to worry about; and 
 if she can't find any good reason she begins 
 to worry because she's afraid that there's 
 something to worry about and she's not do- 
 ing it. There's money enough in Lane's 
 bank to pay that debt and more too. I'd 
 pay it this minute if Ruley would let me, 
 but he's not going to give up a good solid
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 15 
 
 six per cent, one minute before he has to. 
 But wait until the fifth day of September 
 and it will be ours every nail of it. Then 
 we'll fix things up. I've always wanted a 
 big covered back porch where I can sit in 
 my shirt sleeves when the weather's warm 
 and smoke without shocking the neighbors. 
 We'll put on a slate roof it costs like sixty 
 but it pays in the end, and cement walks and 
 iron fences. Whatever we fix, we'll fix to 
 stay. Hain't that so, toddlekins?" and he 
 tickled the baby as he spoke and she laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 " Daddy means to get the pretty thing for 
 you kids after while you'll have all that's 
 going." 
 
 He tossed Laura in the air, and gave 
 Thomas a ride on his foot before he spoke 
 again. When he did so, his voice had a 
 touch of regret in it. The woman who 
 heard, and who understood him as no one 
 else did, could scarcely keep the tears from 
 her eyes. She knew how hard his life had 
 been without the freedom of childhood or
 
 16 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 the love and protection of a father worthy 
 the name. She knew that his soul cried out 
 for the finer things of life. He had longed 
 to walk in the world of science and learning 
 He keenly felt his ignorance and lack o f 
 training but the things which he had desireu 
 most in his youth had been denied him ; and 
 a sadness and a regret were always with him. 
 "I wasn't thinking of myself," he said 
 slowly and seriously. "I don't want my 
 boy knocked around as I was never sent 
 to school after I was able to do a bit of work. 
 There hain't a day passes that I don't feel 
 the lack of learning. I made up my mind 
 that my boy and girl were going to have a 
 chance if I could give it to them. They'll 
 be kept in school and they'll have a home 
 and plenty to eat if I have to drag myself 
 out to earn it. We'll lay a little by and if 
 they want to go away to school when they've 
 finished here, we'll have the money ready. 
 But we'll give them a chance to look about 
 and get ready for work. They'll not be 
 pushed into it when they're only babies."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 17 
 
 His wife leaned forward and rested her 
 hand on his shoulder. It was like a caress 
 to him, giving him sympathy, affection and 
 Confidence. 
 
 A "When I was a kid," he began again, "I 
 ased to think that I'd like to be a doctor 
 not just a little runt sitting in an office and 
 tying up pills, but one that knew his runs 
 and had a clear track. I've seen men 
 mangled up and the doctors cut off a leg 
 without trying to see if it could be made 
 solid again. I wouldn't be that kind. I'd 
 hang out to save a man's limb until there 
 vvould be only a question between it and 
 death. Even then I'd not hurry, for some 
 of us would rather be dead altogether than 
 go through life just half a man. I always 
 wanted to be a surgeon." 
 
 "But it wasn't to be, Jim. Perhaps if 
 you had gone away to school and been a 
 great doctor, you wouldn't have met me; or 
 if you had, I would have seemed so ignorant 
 that you would not have cared for me." 
 
 "I'd care for you whatever I was. I
 
 18 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 wouldn't have thought about what you 
 knew. I'd just said to myself, 'There's the 
 girl I want for my wife,' and that would 
 have been you every time whether I was 
 a big surgeon or only a train runner." 
 
 "Of course you'd say that now. It 
 wouldn't be nice to say anything else." A 
 flush had come to her cheeks as he spoke and 
 a sparkle to her eyes. 
 
 "No, that's honest. I'm not just saying 
 it. But I was telling you about wanting 
 to be a surgeon. I can't be that now. The 
 time's past for such work for me. I can 
 be a conductor, it seems at least the men 
 think so, and I'll be the best one that I can 
 be. But what I can't be myself, I mean 
 Thomas to be. I tell you that there's noth- 
 ing else in the world I'd want, if I could 
 see him a fine doctor. I want him a good 
 one or none at all. If he's got the brains 
 and will do it, I'll see that he has the 
 money." 
 
 "He's got the brains," said the mother 
 proudly. ".Why, think, Jim, he hasn't been
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 19 
 
 in school a day and yet he can read any part 
 of that first reader! He just picked it up 
 himself. I didn't make him work; but he'd 
 come to me and ask me what the word was 
 and I'd tell him, 'Willie' or 'slate' or what- 
 ever the word was and there before I knew 
 it, he was reading as easy as could be, 'Willie 
 has a slate.' " 
 
 "He takes after you on that, Alice." He 
 sat a moment thinking seriously, then con- 
 tinued. "I won't run myself down though. 
 I could have learned something if I'd had a 
 chance. I hain't dumb. I've got it in me 
 to learn, and I've picked up what I could. 
 Lack of brains wasn't what kept me back. 
 Men that knew my father say that he was 
 smart as a whip and that he knew how to 
 work. That was before he got so run down. 
 But I don't remember him that way. I 
 know only how afraid I was whenever he'd 
 come in and how I would run off and hide, 
 and how he'd take my wages right out of my 
 hand and I was so afraid that I didn't dare 
 open my mouth. But at last I thought it
 
 20 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 out. I'd order things at the grocer's and 
 pay for them before I'd get home and " 
 
 "Yes; Jim, but let's don't talk of it now. 
 It was pretty hard; but it's no use feeling 
 so about what's gone. We'll give Thomas 
 a chance or you will. I can't earn like 
 lots of women. My own sewing worries me, 
 and if I would try to do something for the 
 children I'd " 
 
 "Hain't you doing lots? Don't you sew 
 for them and get their meals and see that 
 they're well and don't you save where I'd 
 spend ? When it comes to doing something 
 for them, I'm not in it with you. Earning 
 the money hain't half of the game. Why, 
 Allie, I couldn't possibly do what you do 
 ten thousand things a day. I'd forget half 
 of them." 
 
 Her face dimpled with delight. "Here 
 I'm forgetting supper-time and me here 
 talking as though I hadn't a thing to do. It 
 won't take me long. I got most of it ready 
 this morning."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 21 
 
 She went into the house. The man fussed 
 with the children a few minutes and then 
 joined her at her work. 
 
 "Do you remember that big Tony Rin- 
 allo?" he asked as he came into the kitchen. 
 "That big Dago who used to work on the 
 street?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I used to be afraid of him. 
 What made you think of him*?" 
 
 "He was hurt yesterday. He's been 
 working up at the quarry and a blast went 
 off before the Dagos got out of the way. 
 We knew that something was wrong but 
 couldn 't tell what. We were running forty 
 miles an hour and just as we passed the O. 
 K. tower, we saw the Dagos running back 
 and yelling." 
 
 "Didn't you stop?" 
 
 "Stop! No; we're not running trains as 
 we please. A few Dagos, more or less, 
 won't matter. There'll be more trouble up 
 there. Deise told me they used dynamite 
 and the Dagos used as much as was handy.
 
 22 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 The foreman's off for a visit and he let the 
 foreigners run without orders. If someone 
 don't flag them, there'll be trouble." 
 
 "It's too bad." She turned to the stove 
 and began to dish up the meal. 
 
 "Will you carry in the coffee, Jim? I'll 
 take these in and then supper '11 be ready."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE RUMOR 
 
 The main street of the town faced the 
 railroad. The stores were large and carried 
 a fine line of goods in proportion to the size 
 of the town. The people on the whole were 
 good buyers, for the men made excellent 
 wages and work was steady. There were 
 no poor. Only at rare intervals did any of 
 the people of the town need help. If one 
 did without the comforts of life, it was be- 
 cause he was constitutionally opposed to ef- 
 fort of any kind, for the work was there cry- 
 ing out to be done. 
 
 This main thoroughfare had more than its 
 quota of saloons. One or two had attained 
 the dignity of being hotels ; the others were 
 drinking-places doing business regardless of 
 
 23
 
 24 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 law, and flaunting their law breaking in 
 the face of an unconcerned public. 
 
 Before these places were lines of loafers, 
 their chairs tilted back against the side of 
 the building, their feet stuck out on the 
 thoroughfare, and with cigars or tobacco 
 in use. These groups varied in harmony 
 with the place about which they loafed. 
 About the principal hotel were well-dressed 
 men in tailored suits, patent-leather shoes, 
 smoking high-priced cigars. Further down 
 the street were those who were at the lower 
 rung of the ladder with no ambition or pros- 
 pect of rising. 
 
 These groups rolled with delectable palate 
 every bit of gossip in town and chewed the 
 cud of scandal as a cow does one of grass. 
 
 The leading spirit who occupied a chair 
 before the big hotel was Pat Eussel, a wit, 
 a wag, the spirit of humor and repartee. 
 He was not a shop man but had won an in- 
 dependent fortune in the management of 
 brick-works and quarries. He was clean 
 shaven and immaculate, with the map of
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 25 
 
 Ireland on his face and the twist of her 
 language on his tongue. He was slow in 
 speech and droll in his humor; a friend to 
 a friend, and an enemy to an enemy. Years 
 before he had had an unpleasant experience 
 with Lane, the cashier of the private bank 
 of the town. Lane, Russel declared, had 
 done him a dirty trick. That had been a 
 score of years before, when Lane had but 
 started to push his way in the world. 
 
 Russel had mentioned the matter to no 
 one since then, and those who knew aught 
 about it supposed that he had forgotten it 
 long ago, but gave the banker a wide berth. 
 There was but a nod in passing, but no 
 further exchange of courtesy. Neverthe- 
 less he remembered the trick and waited his 
 time to settle accounts and close the books. 
 
 This particular evening, he had a small 
 group about him who listened attentively 
 to what he was saying. He spoke slowly 
 in a low, full voice that always had in it a 
 touch of sadness whether the subject under 
 discussion was humorous or otherwise.
 
 28 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "I've heard, but of course I'm not telling 
 it as a fact. I pass it on to you as it came 
 to me." 
 
 "Did you hear how much?" 
 
 "A mere trifle. Fifteen thousand, I 
 heard. Not enough to put him out of busi- 
 ness, just enough to keep him thinking 
 late." 
 
 "Fifteen thousand this time, and perhaps 
 fifty next time. When a man starts specu- 
 lating he loses his senses," said one of the 
 men with a show of feeling. 
 
 "Not when he starts but just before he 
 starts, my son," said Pat dryly. "What's 
 fifty thousand to a man when it's not his 
 own?" 
 
 "He'll not speculate with mine," said one 
 of the group. "I haven't much but I'll 
 draw out every cent to-morrow. I'm not 
 sweating ten hours a day to feed lambs to 
 Wall Street." 
 
 "Gently, my son, gently," with a sidewise 
 gesture of his palm. "Would you deny the 
 man his fling? You've not lost yet. J
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 27 
 
 can't see how you can. They Ve real estate 
 here that's surety enough for depositors. 
 Now this Park Street row." 
 
 There was a snort of disgust from one of 
 the group. "Park Street property! That 
 was disposed of ten days ago. I'm in po- 
 sition to know about it. It isn't hearsay. 
 It brought twenty thousand. " 
 
 1 ' Twenty thousand ! And it 's worth thirty 
 any day! If they wanted to get rid of it, 
 why didn't they advertise? I'd made good 
 for twenty-five thousand myself. Are the 
 heirs in business to cheat themselves?" 
 
 There was silence for a moment. The 
 Park Street tenements would have been sold 
 for a song if they had been disposed of at 
 thirty thousand. A quiet sale, too. To 
 what did such signs point? They had not 
 reached a conclusion before Pat continued 
 with his airy, graceful gesture. "Twenty 
 thousand! I suppose that went to fill up 
 the gap made by the bears. Well, well ! It 
 don't pay for a country lad to go hunting 
 bears on Wall Street."
 
 28 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "I'm glad I heard this piece of news. 
 I'll do my banking business somewhere else, 
 and I'll start at eight o'clock to-morrow 
 morning. ' ' 
 
 "You're as concerned as a mother hen 
 with a small duck. Go gently, my son. 
 There's no danger, and I don't want you to 
 be suspicious of Lane. He has a reputation 
 of being a good business man. As far as 
 the Park Street tenements go, they may 
 mean nothing. There's plenty of other 
 Lane estate property in town." 
 
 "And all mortgaged to the last cent." 
 This remark was from a stranger, a travel- 
 ing salesman who had been listening. The 
 others turned toward him with an expres- 
 sion of inquiry. 
 
 "I know," he said in answer to their 
 looks. "I came here to put up presses and 
 office fittings for a daily paper. The Lane 
 estate could not only not pay cash but 
 couldn't give a first mortgage on one prop- 
 erty in its name." 
 
 Pat gave his characteristic gesture and
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 29 
 
 turned away from the group. He had in 
 mind the time when Lane had driven him 
 to the wall almost twenty years before. He 
 had started the ball rolling. It would grow 
 until it was big enough to crush Lane's busi- 
 ness into atoms. He saw Jim Crissman 
 coming down the street. He was several 
 squares away but Pat's sharp eyes noted 
 him. He drew him aside as he came near. 
 
 "I've a word for your ear, my son," he 
 said. Jim drew from the crowd of men and 
 came close. He was always a man of few 
 words except with those he knew well and 
 now he stood silent until Pat was ready to 
 speak. 
 
 "I want to put you next to a little busi- 
 ness transaction that's taken place with 
 some of your friends." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I haven't lived in this little village, my 
 son, and seen you grow up without learning 
 a thing or two. You've not been spending 
 money. You've been laying a little by." 
 
 "A little yes.
 
 30 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "A word to you then. There's a rumor 
 that our banker has been taking a few flyers 
 on the market. There'll be a run on the 
 bank to-morrow. If I'd as much as a 
 dollar there, I'd have it in my inside pocket 
 to-morrow. Just a word to the wise is suf- 
 ficient. I'm walking on." He waved his 
 hand with stately grace and walked on. 
 
 His words troubled Jim. He had two 
 thousand dollars, every cent of which meant 
 hard work and self-denial. He did not 
 know what to think. He had never let the 
 word of one man influence his actions. Yet 
 Pat Russel was a keen business man and 
 knew the value of the dollar. He was not 
 one to speak at random. His statements 
 held water. 
 
 In this uncertain condition of mind, he 
 joined the group of which the commercial 
 traveler was now the center. They too 
 were discussing the possibility of the bank 
 failing. Jim Crissman stood and listened, 
 not knowing that Pat Russel had put the 
 idea into their minds as he had into his.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 31 
 
 At last he turned away. "It seems to be 
 the general impression," he said to himself. 
 "I'm glad Russel hung out the red flag. 
 It might have been a head-on collision with 
 me. I'll go home and tell Allie. I'll talk 
 it over with her." 
 
 The children were in bed when he reached 
 home. Alice in her new white linen dress 
 was sitting in the living-room, putting a few 
 last stitches into her weekly mending. 
 
 "I had a talk with Russel down town," 
 he said, sitting down beside her. "He 
 thinks Lane's bank is about ready to go 
 under." Then without further questioning 
 he told her of the word Russel had passed 
 on to him. 
 
 She listened until he had finished and then 
 said pertinently, "Russel has been mad at 
 Lane ever since Lane put him out of busi- 
 ness. I suppose he's waiting his chance to 
 get even." 
 
 "There is not a better fellow in town than 
 just Pat Russel. There's nothing he 
 wouldn't do for a fellow."
 
 32 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "When the fellow's his friend, Jim. And 
 there's nothing he wouldn't do against one 
 that isn't. In this case I'd take his words 
 with a pinch of salt." 
 
 "I'd about made up my mind to get the 
 money the first thing in the morning. I'd 
 hate like sixty to lose it." 
 
 "So would I, but I don't think there's a 
 bit of danger, Jim. Pat Russel has started 
 the report to harm Lane if he can. What 
 if he did lose fifteen thousand dollars? 
 There's blocks enough here in town, belong- 
 ing to the Lane heirs to satisfy every cred- 
 itor if the bank fails." 
 
 In spite of his wife's confidence, Jim 
 Crissman went to bed that night with an 
 uneasy feeling. But after a good night's 
 sleep he was more confident and decided to 
 let the money lie in the bank for a while at 
 least. Meanwhile he would be on the alert 
 and if fresh rumors came to his ears, he 
 would withdraw his money. There were 
 numerous duties to keep him busy about the
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 33 
 
 house until dinner-time, so that the after- 
 noon came before he went out. 
 
 There were no loafers at this time of day 
 only here and there a straggler or a train- 
 man waiting to be called out. But he had 
 not gone a square before he again heard the 
 report of the possible failure of the bank. 
 
 RussePs words of the evening before, 
 whether they were true or false, had caused 
 a run on the bank. So far every demand 
 had been met without hesitancy; but if the 
 report gained credence and the run con- 
 tinued, it was doubtful if the bank could 
 honor its own checks. A few hours of con- 
 fidence might save it, or a few hours of lack 
 of confidence push it to the wall. 
 
 James Crissman walked down the street 
 on which the bank stood. He had not made 
 up his mind what course he would take. As 
 he turned into the square, he met a half- 
 dozen good business men on their way from 
 Lane's. They had looked to their own in- 
 terest and put themselves on the safe side.
 
 34 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 In an instant Crissman decided. "I'll be 
 on the safe side along with the rest," he 
 argued. "If nothing happens and affairs 
 move along, it will be an easy matter to de- 
 posit it again. " 
 
 He walked into the bank, drew up a check, 
 counted over the bills given him, and slip- 
 ping them into an inner pocket, left the 
 building. The bank was pretty well filled at 
 this time. A dozen men were waiting their 
 turn, one or two of whom he knew merely 
 by sight. 
 
 The train crews were written up on the 
 bulletin before the Y. M. C. A. building, 
 He walked down that way and found he 
 was fifth out. That might mean any time 
 within the next twelve hours, yet it was 
 hardly possible that he would be called be- 
 fore morning. There was no hurry so he 
 stopped to talk to several of the men about 
 the reading-rooms and then walked over to 
 an adjoining hotel with one of the trainmen 
 who wished to see a man. These matters 
 kept him until almost six o'clock. He went
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 35 
 
 home then to find supper waiting for him. 
 He told Alice at once about withdrawing 
 the money. 
 
 She was a wise little soul who, when a 
 thing was done, never wasted energy in find- 
 ing fault. 
 
 "Well, if you think it's best, Jim," she 
 said, "I suppose it's all right. But don't 
 leave the money about where I know any- 
 thing about it. I'd be worried sick for fear 
 it might be stolen." 
 
 "I'll fix it good and safe. Don't you 
 worry yourself, Allie." She was about to 
 pour him a second cup of coffee, and he gave 
 the hand which held it out to him an en- 
 couraging little pat. "Don't give it a 
 thought, Allie. I'll put it in a safe place." 
 
 He had but spoken when the front door- 
 bell rang. With bustling, housewifely in- 
 terest Allie hurried to the door to find there 
 a fine-looking stranger who inquired if Mr. 
 Crissman was at home. 
 
 "Yes; will you come in?" 
 
 "Is he in the house?"
 
 36 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Yes; come in. I will call him. He's at 
 supper." 
 
 But at this the stranger moved from the 
 door. "I did not want to see him," he said 
 lamely. "I just wished to be sure that he 
 was at home." 
 
 At this her fears bristled up. She 
 straightened her shoulders and looked him 
 straight in the eye. 
 
 "This is rather a queer performance," 
 she said. "Why did you come to his house 
 to ask about him if you did not wish to see 
 him? I cannot understand such actions." 
 
 The face of the stranger flushed. "I sup- 
 pose it does seem strange. I didn't think 
 of that. But I'll tell you. My name is 
 Smith the man who has the lumber job up 
 Paddy's Bun. I was in the bank this after- 
 noon when your husband drew out quite a 
 little roll of money. I was away back in the 
 line. There were two men standing off at 
 the side deadbeats both of them. I caught 
 a look that passed between them and I de- 
 cided I'd keep my eye on them. When
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 37 
 
 Crissman left they were not far behind him. 
 They hung outside the Y. M. C. A. while 
 he was inside; and they were in the hotel 
 when he was there. I saw him start home 
 up the tracks and those two bums watched 
 him from a corner. Someone spoke to me 
 just then and I lost track of the three of 
 them. I thought I'd come around and see 
 if he was at home. I felt uneasy. " 
 
 He did not wait for further speech, but 
 turned away and was at the gate before she 
 had recovered sufficiently from her surprise 
 to thank him. When he had given his name 
 she recognized him as the Mr. Smith who 
 was lumbering up the Bun, and she knew 
 that he was a man to be depended upon. 
 
 Locking and bolting the front door, she 
 went back to the dining-room. She was 
 really much excited and worried, but treated 
 the matter as lightly as she could when she 
 told her husband. 
 
 "I want you to promise one thing, Jim," 
 she said when she had finished the story. 
 1 'That is that you will not come up that
 
 38 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 lonely way by the tracks. It will only take 
 you a few minutes more to come by the 
 street. It's lighted and there's always 
 someone about. I'll feel safe if you prom- 
 ise me that." 
 
 11 There's no danger along the track. 
 There's always yardmen in sight. Nothing 
 could happen to a fellow without some of 
 them seeing; but if it will save you any 
 worry, I'll promise. I'll keep to the middle 
 of the walk and I'll come home down Erie 
 Avenue. Does that satisfy you?" 
 
 He laughed aloud at her concern. 
 
 1 1 It's just as well to be on the safe side," 
 she said, annoyed at his laugh. "You may 
 be glad some day that you made the prom- 
 
 ise.' 
 
 "I think I'll count over the money," he 
 said, "and be sure that it's all here before 
 I put it away." 
 
 He took out the roll of bills and counted 
 them over. "Eight one-hundreds and fifty 
 twenties," he said. "It's all there." He 
 looked at it reflectively. "I tell you that's
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 39 
 
 meant a good many hours of hard work and 
 a good bit of going without what I wanted. 
 Why, the first year I made up my mind 
 to save, Allie, I hadn't a suit to my back 
 just my working clothes and the shoes that 
 I wore right along were so patched and 
 mended that a tramp would have felt in- 
 sulted if I had offered them to him. But 
 that time's gone now and we've got a start. 
 The hardest pull's over. We'll pay for the 
 house and we'll live well and have a few 
 dollars to lay by. I tell you there's nothing 
 that makes a man feel as good as knowing 
 he can provide for his folks and not ask 
 favors of anyone." 
 
 With the money in his hand he got up 
 from the table and left the dining-room. 
 Alice began to clear off the table and 
 wash the dishes. She heard Jim moving 
 about upstairs and she smiled to herself as 
 she thought how secretly he was hiding the 
 money. She could hear him opening bureau 
 drawers and fussing about in the awkward, 
 noisy way that was his.
 
 40 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 The baby was cooing in her high chair, 
 and Thomas was fussing about to go up- 
 stairs to his father. But Alice kept him 
 with her. 
 
 "Father is busy now. He doesn't want 
 you with him," she said. "Be a good boy 
 and father will soon be here." 
 
 It was but a few minutes when Jim came 
 downstairs and passed through the kitchen 
 into the back yard, Thomas following. 
 
 "You'd better split some kindling in case 
 you'd be called out early," she called after 
 him. 
 
 She heard him fussing about in the wood- 
 shed and later the sound of an axe. Then 
 Thomas came in with tears in his eyes. 
 "Papa's took my pretty red box," he said, 
 hiding his face in his mother's skirt. "I 
 want it." 
 
 His father followed with an armload of 
 kindling. Getting rid of the wood, he 
 turned and caught the boy up in his arms. 
 
 "That's too bad, youngster! But don't 
 cry. I'll get you a prettier box, the first
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 41 
 
 time I go down street and I'll put some 
 pennies in it for you. There, be a big man 
 and don't cry." He turned to Alice. "I 
 took that tin box to put the money in. Mice 
 or rats can't gnaw into that and it won't 
 get damp." 
 
 She smiled. "I knew you couldn't keep 
 a secret. I knew you'd tell me where you 
 put it before you'd sleep." 
 
 "But I haven't told you. It's in the box. 
 But where's the box? That will keep you 
 guessing, old lady."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE FIRST RUN 
 
 In spite of being nervous, Alice fell into 
 a sound sleep almost as soon as her head 
 touched the pillow. Fortunately for her, 
 the day had been a busy one, as were most 
 of her days. She had put the house in 
 order, baked and prepared food suitable for 
 the lunch bucket, bathed and dressed the 
 children; finished a white dress for herself 
 and put the last stitches in the weekly mend- 
 ing for the family. 
 
 She wakened with a start. Someone was 
 pounding on the side door directly below 
 their bedroom window. Her first thought 
 was that someone was breaking in to rob 
 them. She was trembling with fear but 
 fortunately Jim was more wide-awake than 
 
 43
 
 44 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 she and was already at the window with his 
 head half way out. 
 
 "Hello, there!" he cried. "What do you 
 want?" 
 
 "It's Crandall. You're called for Sixty- 
 five on time." 
 
 "I don't know what time that is, Crandy. 
 This is my first time out." 
 
 "At one-thirty." 
 
 ' ' All right. What does it show up now 1 ' ' 
 
 "A quarter past twelve." 
 
 "All right, but it's a pity you couldn't call 
 a fellow earlier." 
 
 "How could I? You were marked up 
 early, but Bennet's sick and I've gone from 
 one end of the town to the other. I haven't 
 called upon Bowman yet and he's clear 
 across the bridge." 
 
 He called back his speech as he hurried 
 along. Crissman paid little heed to him. 
 
 "I have to go out at one-thirty, Allie." 
 But she was already out of bed and lighting 
 the lamp. 
 
 "You don't need to get up," he said.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 45 
 
 "I'll cook myself a few eggs and pack my 
 bucket. Go back to bed and get your 
 sleep. " 
 
 "Indeed, I won't! Do you think I'm go- 
 ing to let you go off that way? I'll slip on 
 a dressing sacque and slippers. I won't 
 bother about dressing." 
 
 She was ready in a few minutes and in the 
 kitchen where a coal fire was burning. She 
 stuck in a few sticks of light wood, put on 
 the kettle and began to grind coffee. With 
 wonderful dispatch she soon had hot coffee, 
 ham and eggs ready for his breakfast. 
 While he ate, she packed his bucket, keep- 
 ing up a running fire of conversation. 
 
 "I have a custard for your lunch," and 
 she held up the small cup in which it had 
 been baked. ' * It turned out lovely. There 's 
 veal loaf left from supper and there's cold 
 ham, too. Which would you rather have, 
 Jim? I'll put a little of both in. Maybe 
 some of the other men would like a little 
 extra!" 
 
 "Whew," he cried at last, looking at his
 
 46 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 watch. "Five minutes of one! IVe got to 
 start." 
 
 He took up his cap and bucket. His wife 
 followed him to the door, a look of wistful 
 tenderness on her face. "With his hand 
 upon the knob, he drew her toward him, and 
 gave her a hearty kiss. "Good-bye, Allie. 
 Now lock the door and go up to bed right 
 away. Take good care of the kids. I'll be 
 in to-morrow morning some time." 
 
 He closed the door after him, then stood 
 listening until he heard her turn the key. 
 Satisfied that she was safe from harm, he 
 went on his way whistling cheerfully 
 through the dark, a great, strong man 
 fearful of nothing which lay before him 
 a giant in physical and moral strength, yet 
 as simple-minded and as tender-hearted as 
 a child. 
 
 Eemembering the promise given to his 
 wife to avoid the short cuts across the un- 
 lighted tracks, he made his way down the 
 main street. It was one o'clock in the 
 morning, yet a few saloons were yet open
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 47 
 
 for business. As he went up the steps to 
 the foot bridge, he met Kepperly, his rear 
 brakeman, and together they went into the 
 yard office. The train was -already made 
 up. The engineer was bringing his engine 
 from the roundhouse. One of the hostlers, 
 black and grimy, stood near the track of the 
 turntable and passed a few light words with 
 him. 
 
 The engine with its fireman and engineer 
 ran up to the switch at the end of the yard, 
 while' Crissman with the trainmen crossed to 
 the train. 
 
 The yardmaster growled at their being 
 not a minute too early and threatened to 
 send out an extra the first time one of them 
 stood a minute late. 
 
 "This train's got to pull out at one-thirty, 
 and not half a minute later," he growled. 
 He stood with his open watch in his hand, 
 and his lantern swung over his arm. The 
 men jeered and made fun of him with ap- 
 parent good nature and gave him answer 
 for answer.
 
 48 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 The instant the minute hand marked the 
 half hour, he swung out his lantern. The 
 long train moved slowly from the yard, in 
 the gloom of which it curved its black sin- 
 uous length like a huge snake. When it had 
 cleared the yard and rounded the curve of 
 the mountains ahove Drury's Eun, it in- 
 creased its speed until it was going at the 
 rate of forty miles an hour. 
 
 " Where do you stop for orders ?" asked 
 the end brakeman coming up to Crissman. 
 
 "At the O. K. tower this side of Sterl- 
 ing." 
 
 "Kunning close. I thought we'd go clear 
 through. I was wishing we would. We'd 
 not have to lay over but a few hours if we'd 
 not take siding here." 
 
 "We're to take siding only for the flyer. 
 If it's on time, we'll barely make it." 
 
 "That's all right about getting there on 
 close time; but what about leaving?" 
 
 "Can't tell until we get orders. I think 
 though that we'll pull out at once." 
 
 "I don't like this running so close. If
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 49 
 
 we'd run late we'd risk our necks to get out 
 of the way of Number Ten." 
 
 "Something's wrong with your liver, 
 Nelson," he said. "One minute you're all 
 for getting home quick and the next minute 
 you're afraid we're running too close." 
 
 The train had given the signal for the 
 Sterling crossing and Crissman moved away 
 to attend to his work. A moment later he 
 swung himself from the train and went into 
 the tower for orders. He was back in a 
 moment. 
 
 "You'll be a happy lad, Nelson," he said 
 jocularly. "Number Ten is running an 
 hour later. We're to lay here until she's 
 heard from." 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Search me. She left Olean on time but 
 she hasn't reached Ridgway. We may be 
 tied here for the rest of the morning." 
 
 "Then I'm going to sleep," was Nelson's 
 reply as he went back to the caboose. 
 
 It was now broad daylight. The train- 
 men, with the exception of Nelson, sat at
 
 50 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 the foot of the O. K. steps cind smoked and 
 retold stories of what they had seen and 
 heard on the road. 
 
 The track ran close to the bank of the 
 river. At right angles to it and crossing on 
 a viaduct ran the H. R. & P. Road. The 
 mountains on the opposite side of the river 
 were steep and almost barren of vegetation, 
 with only here and there clumps of firs 
 showing among the rocks. Fifty feet above 
 the water line was a quarry of flagstone 
 and around the curve of the mountain, 
 under the protection of an overhanging cliff, 
 were the shanties of the foreign laborers. 
 Smoke was already curling from the chim- 
 neys and the faint blue line was visible to 
 the trainmen across the river. 
 
 "What time have you?" asked Page when 
 the stories of the road had all been told, and 
 the pipes had been smoked out. 
 
 "Seven fifteen and she's right to the dot," 
 replied Crissman. Getting up and moving 
 away from the men, he walked to the end of
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 51 
 
 the train. He stopped suddenly before a re- 
 turn empty. Going close to the door, he 
 peered within and then cried, "Hello, butty, 
 what's wrong with you?" 
 
 "I'll vamoose," was the reply. "You 
 don't need to jerk me up. But if you have 
 time, let me talk to you a minute." The 
 speaker moved close to Crissman and swing- 
 ing himself out, sat down on the edge of the 
 open box-car. He was a young man not 
 more than twenty-five years old if he was 
 that. He had a fine face with an intellec- 
 tual brow and intelligent eyes ; well-dressed 
 but dusty and travel-stained. His lips 
 twitched nervously and he glanced fearfully 
 about him as though he feared to be seen. 
 
 "What sort of men have you with you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "First rate. How long have you been 
 on?" 
 
 "Since the train was made up." 
 "Where did you come from?" 
 "No matter," was the reply. "I'm leav-
 
 52 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 ing it. That's all. But I've come a good 
 way. Whereabouts can I strike a western 
 train?" 
 
 "Freight?" 
 
 "Not necessarily. I can pay my way. I 
 bummed my way so far because I didn't 
 want a passenger train. What's that road 
 over there?" pointing to the track across 
 the viaduct. 
 
 "That will take you into DuBois. You 
 can get pretty fair trains from there." 
 
 "How soon will a train come along and 
 how far must I go to get it?" 
 
 "An accommodation crosses the viaduct 
 somewhere about eight o'clock. The near- 
 est station is three miles on the other side 
 of the river, but they take water on this 
 side. You could get on there if you're anx- 
 ious to pull out." 
 
 "I am. The quicker I'm away the better 
 pleased I'll be. Say, look here. I'm going 
 to tell you something and I want you to do 
 something for me. Will you promise?"
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 53 
 
 "That depends. I might be promising 
 to run beyond the red lights. Fire away." 
 
 The young man moved closer and spoke 
 long and earnestly to Crissman. He be- 
 came quite excited and his breath came in 
 short gasps. Crissman stood with his 
 shoulders braced against the edge of the car 
 and listened without comment until the 
 stranger had finished. 
 
 "Of course, I don't know anything about 
 it," he said at last. "I've got only your 
 word for it and I don't know what that's 
 worth. But, either way, I can't see that 
 any harm can come of it. It won't mean 
 anything to me one way or the other." 
 
 The face of the stranger brightened. 
 Taking a memorandum book and pencil he 
 wrote hastily and nervously. Then tearing 
 the slip of paper from the book he handed 
 it to him. 
 
 "Tell him to write to me there in my own 
 name. He's to write if he don't want to 
 lose track of me and if everything's all
 
 54 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 right. I'm trusting you. I don't know 
 why, but you look like a man that would 
 help a fellow out of a bad place." 
 
 "What do you mean to do now?" 
 
 "To go to that place as quick as I can. 
 I'll be beyond reach there. But one thing 
 I'll do, I've a way to earn a good living. 
 I'm not helpless. I'll start in and I'll see 
 that I don't make the same mistake twice." 
 
 There was nothing of the preacher about 
 Jim Crissman. Here was an excellent op- 
 portunity for a homily on the conduct of 
 life ; but he did not seize it. He was think- 
 ing of the boyish stranger who had thrown 
 himself upon his mercy. 
 
 "You mean to take that train when she 
 stops at the crossing?" 
 
 "Yes; if lean." 
 
 "Better get yourself together then. 
 Come down to the caboose and wash up. 
 You don't want to look as though you were 
 on your uppers." 
 
 "But the other men?" he glanced appre- 
 hensively toward the tower.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 65 
 
 "Don't give them a thought. They 
 won't flag us. Come on! You haven't 
 much time to spare." He started down the 
 track. After a moment's hesitancy, the 
 stranger swung himself out of the car and 
 followed. By the time he reached the ca- 
 boose, Crissman was there with a basin of 
 water and a towel for him. 
 
 Nelson unrolled himself from his quilt, 
 looked up to see who had come in and see- 
 ing that Crissman was in some way re- 
 sponsible for the stranger's appearance, 
 said affably, " Hello, butty, taking off the 
 first coat?" 
 
 Crissman had opened the bucket and was 
 laying out his lunch when the stranger 
 finished washing and putting himself in 
 order. 
 
 "Here's something to fill up on. It will 
 be a long time before you'll have a chance 
 to get anything. Oh, that 's all right. ' ' The 
 stranger had again hesitated. "I've got 
 plenty. The missus put in an extra helping 
 of meat. She fixed up veal in some sort of
 
 56 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 fixings and she put some in for the men a 
 taste. She always does that." 
 
 While he was speaking, he had made two 
 large sandwiches of the bread and ham and 
 thrust them into the young man's hands. 
 "Eat them and then I'd cut down to the 
 viaduct. That train will whistle for the 
 bridge in about three minutes." 
 
 "That tastes good," said the stranger. 
 "It's been a full day since IVe had a bite 
 to eat." 
 
 As he was about to leave the caboose, he 
 seized Crissman's hand. "I can't I don't 
 have words to thank you. But you've been 
 my guardian angel to-day. Good-bye. I'll 
 never forget you, and you'll send word say 
 in the course of a month." He looked up 
 into Crissman's face while he wrung his 
 hands. 
 
 "I'll see to that. Good-bye and take 
 good care of yourself!" The young man 
 hurried from the train, went down the track 
 like one who was hurried on by fear.
 
 At his first word the girls had clutched each other 
 tightly. (See page 174.)
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 57 
 
 Crissman walked back to the 0. K. tower. 
 
 1 'Number Ten about due," said the 
 operator. ' ' Your orders are awaiting you. ' ' 
 
 Crissman took the slip of paper and read 
 it carefully. He folded it and slipped it 
 between the fasteners of his overalls. The 
 other piece of paper the smaller piece 
 which the stranger had given him he 
 crumpled up in the palm of his hand. He 
 had not read it, being more interested in 
 seeing the stranger cared for than in the 
 address. Now he smoothed it out. 
 
 "Telluride, Mexico," he said, reading it 
 aloud. "I'll remember that. If the paper 
 should get lost I'll not be to the bad. The 
 other is easy enough to remember. ' Sur- 
 geon in charge at the Dixmont Hospital.' 
 That is nothing to keep in a fellow's mind." 
 
 Number Ten had whistled. He saw her 
 rounding the curve of the river several 
 miles away. She was tearing along at a 
 great rate, fairly annihilating space in her 
 effort to make up lost time. She whizzed
 
 58 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 past Sixty-five on the siding and in a mo- 
 ment had rounded the bend of the river and 
 was gone. 
 
 Crissman stood with his watch in hand 
 and the crumpled piece of paper beneath it. 
 It lacked two minutes of the time that he 
 had orders for leaving. As he waited, the 
 train running at right angles with his own 
 crossed the viaduct. Someone leaned from 
 the day coach to wave. 
 
 "He's made it then," said Crissman to 
 himself. "I'm mighty glad. Somehow I 
 sort of took a fancy to him. He was so 
 worked up and excited about the affair that 
 anyone could see that he wasn't used to 
 doing things just that way." 
 
 The minute hand almost touched the time 
 for leaving. Crissman raised his hand to 
 signal the engineer, but that signal was 
 never given. A terrific blast from the quar- 
 ries fairly shook the mountains. A volley 
 of broken rock pierced the air, and Crissman 
 fell forward across the track.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 Alice had dressed for the afternoon in the 
 new white frock that Jim had admired. 
 She had a notion that he might make the 
 run quicker than he had expected and she 
 wished to be ready for his coming. She 
 liked to have the house in order, the chil- 
 dren and herself looking well when he came 
 in. She was happy to get up early and 
 work until late if everything was ready for 
 Jim's home coming. 
 
 While the children were taking a late 
 afternoon nap, she took her fancy work and 
 went out to the front porch. She had taken 
 but a few stitches when Dr. Heiner, the 
 little Dutch doctor, came up the square. 
 His medicine case was tucked up under his 
 arm; his shoulders were hunched forward; 
 
 59
 
 60 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 his nearsighted eyes were peering into space 
 as he hurried on his way. To Alice's sur- 
 prise he turned in at their gate. 
 
 "Is Jim hornet" he asked. 
 
 "No, he went out early this morning. 
 He's been promoted. This was his first 
 time out as conductor. " She tried to speak 
 in an unconcerned, off-hand way as though 
 she and Jim were above such things as pro- 
 motions, but her voice thrilled with pride 
 and pleasure in spite of her efforts. 
 
 " Won't you come up and sit down, Doc- 
 tor? It's dreadfully warm." She moved 
 from her chair to a smaller one. 
 
 "No ; I just came in on an errand. When 
 do you expect Jim in?" 
 
 "He said not until to-morrow morning. 
 I suppose some time about one o'clock." 
 
 This was one of the hardest places in 
 Doctor Heiner's life. 
 
 "Would you be surprised to know that he 
 came earlier?" 
 
 For one instant there was an ominous 
 silence. The piece of linen in her hand
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 61 
 
 was grasped so tightly that it almost sep- 
 arated. For one moment she sat thus and 
 then she said quietly: "Where have you 
 taken him?" 
 
 "To the emergency hospital. He isn't so 
 bad, Alice." 
 
 "A wreck?" 
 
 "No, a blast from the quarry. We don't 
 know much. His train went through with- 
 out him, and none of his crew could come 
 back to tell us the particulars. They 
 brought him back on Sixty-two. It passed 
 the O. K. tower a few minutes after the 
 blast went off." 
 
 "Is he " she could not finish. The 
 words mangled and dead could not pass her 
 lips. 
 
 "Nothing half so bad," he cried heartily. 
 "Why, Alice, I wouldn't have the heart to 
 come and tell you anything so dreadful. He 
 isn't hurt outwardly. There isn't a cut or 
 bruise anywhere about him. His heart is 
 acting well and his pulse is almost normal; 
 but he's unconscious in spite of that."
 
 62 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "He's been struck?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 "Exactly, although there's no mark on his 
 head. But undoubtedly that is what has 
 happened. It may be several hours or a 
 day perhaps until he comes to himself, and 
 then there may be a little fever; but noth- 
 ing more." 
 
 ' ' Shall I go with you ? Is there anything 
 you wish me to do ? I'd rather wait on him 
 than have anyone else. Does it mean an 
 operation?" 
 
 "No, indeed. I don't believe I will let 
 you go down to the emergency room. The 
 men will bring him home at once if you are 
 ready. It is noisy there and he must have 
 absolute quiet." 
 
 "Everything is ready. [Will you bring 
 him soon?" 
 
 Dr. Heiner was amazed at her manner of 
 hearing the news. She had depended in 
 every way upon the great strong husband 
 of hers, that he had expected her to fall the 
 instant the support was gone. 
 
 "They'll bring him at once. I stopped to
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 63 
 
 tell my wife. She'll be along in a moment. 
 There she comes now, so you will not be 
 alone." 
 
 He turned to open the gate for his wife. 
 Alice spoke again. "The babies are asleep, 
 doctor. Will you bring Jim home before 
 they awake? They might not understand 
 about the stretcher and Thomas is such a 
 nervous child." 
 
 "All right, all right," was the reply. He 
 was relieved for he had dreaded breaking 
 the news to Alice, feeling that she would 
 take it hard. 
 
 Alice and Mrs. Heiner went into the house 
 and made the bed ready for Jim. Every- 
 thing was in readiness when the men 
 brought him home and carried him upstairs 
 into the front bedroom. 
 
 Thomas was awakened by the sound of the 
 strange steps and ran into the upstairs hall- 
 way. 
 
 "Is papa home?" he cried and darted 
 down the hall toward his father's room, but 
 Alice stopped him.
 
 64 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Your father's sleeping, Thomas. You 
 must not disturb him now." 
 
 "But I want my new bank he promised 
 me. He took my red box." 
 
 "Yes, yes, dear. He put it away for a 
 while. Mother will get it for you some 
 day." 
 
 Until that moment she had forgotten 
 about the money. She had a sense of relief 
 that he had put it safely away, for if he 
 should be ill she would be free of the respon- 
 sibility about it. 
 
 When the doctor and the men had gone, 
 she sat by Jim's side, smoothing his fore- 
 head or laying her hand upon his strong 
 wrists. His eyes were closed and he lay like 
 one in a heavy stupor. When she spoke to 
 him and called him by name, he stirred un- 
 easily as though her voice had power to break 
 into his unconscious state and yet was not 
 sufficient to arouse him. 
 
 She sat beside him until evening when 
 Doctor Heiner came in, bringing with him a 
 middle-aged woman who nursed.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 65 
 
 "The Brotherhood of Trainmen came for 
 me and told me to make myself useful." 
 She laid aside her hat and unrolling a pack- 
 age which she had brought with her, took out 
 a blue and white checked gingham apron and 
 put it on. "What do you want me to do 
 sit with him or get supper?" 
 
 "Get the children something to eat. I 
 couldn't swallow a bite. You'll find things 
 in the refrigerator or in the pantry off. the 
 kitchen. Look around and use whatever 
 you find. I '11 stay with Jim. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Geiger went down to the kitchen with 
 the baby on one arm and Thomas following 
 after her. She was talking to them cheerily 
 and promising them all manner of dainties 
 if they would stay in the kitchen to help 
 her. 
 
 Alice went back to Jim, to find Doctor 
 Heiner was bending over him. She did not 
 speak to the doctor but her eyes looked ques- 
 tioningly into his. 
 
 "He has a little fever," was the reply to 
 her look. "But that's to be expected. If 
 
 5
 
 66 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 he should be delirious in the night send Mrs. 
 Geiger for me. I'll be around in the morn- 
 ing, and I'll bring young Haywood with me. 
 He's interested and I'd like to have another 
 physician's opinion." 
 
 Mrs. Geiger prepared the children's sup- 
 per, made them ready for bed and sang them 
 to sleep. Then she carried a cup of coffee 
 and a sandwich to Alice. 
 
 "I can't eat," said Alice, pushing it aside. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can. You've got to. He 
 may be sick a week and if you don't eat you'll 
 not be able to wait on him." 
 
 That settled the matter. Not able to wait 
 on Jim when he needed it ! She turned and 
 taking the cup of coffee in one hand and the 
 sandwich in the other with a heroic effort 
 disposed of them. 
 
 The fever rose slowly during the night. 
 The lodge to which Jim belonged sent a man 
 to sit with him but Alice would not leave his 
 side. Her hand rested upon his. If he 
 stirred or moved she whispered, "Jim!" and
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 67 
 
 her voice reached through the darkness and 
 quieted him. 
 
 As she soothed and petted him as she 
 would have done with Laura or Thomas had 
 they been ill, his fingers, which had been con- 
 tracted tightly, relaxed in her hand, and the 
 piece of paper now pressed into a wad fell 
 from his grasp. She smoothed it out on the 
 bed spread and read it. TELLURIDE, MEXICO. 
 That was all. It meant nothing at all to 
 her, but it might to Jim. So she put it 
 safely away in the little trinket-case on her 
 dresser. It might mean something or noth- 
 ing, but it belonged to her husband and she 
 treasured it as she did everything which 
 touched him. 
 
 Then she went back to his side and 
 watched over him all the night long, sooth- 
 ing and caressing him as a mother might a 
 little child. 
 
 When morning came, the nurse and Doc- 
 tor Heiner compelled her to leave the sick- 
 room and lie down. They encouraged her
 
 68 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 to believe that it was but a few hours until 
 Jim would be himself again and it would fret 
 him to see her heavy-eyed and worn. When 
 she came back to the bedside the face of the 
 patient was crimson with fever, his pulse 
 was beating fast, and he was talking and 
 moaning. Through the mutterings ran a 
 thread of reason. He had promised to do. 
 something. What was it f When was he to 
 do it $ Whom did he promise ? Something 
 was pressing his head and kept him down 
 or he would write at once. Dixmont Hos- 
 pital. He could remember so much. He 
 would not forget that. Then he asked for 
 orders and inquired when Number Ten was 
 due and he gave the time his train had been 
 ordered out and even raised himself in bed, 
 and gave the proper signal to the engineer 
 the signal he would have given the morn- 
 ing before had a second more of time been 
 granted him. 
 
 The days now repeated themselves except 
 that each succeeding one brought a great de- 
 gree of fever and more intense suffering for
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 69 
 
 the patient. The pain became so great that 
 the watchers held him in bed lest he might 
 harm himself. A neighbor took Thomas 
 and Laura home with her and Alice gave 
 every minute of the day and night to him. 
 She seemed incapable of a thought for her- 
 self or her children. She knew neither fa- 
 tigue nor hunger, but sat day after day by 
 the bed, allowing no one except herself to 
 touch him. The doctor's orders and plead- 
 ings were wasted. She looked at him in 
 open-eyed wonder when he suggested that 
 she rest. 
 
 "And leave Jim 1 ?" she asked as though 
 such a thought could not be considered. 
 
 There were nine days of fever and de- 
 lirium and then the change came. The pa- 
 tient lay white and quiet, but without ap- 
 parent suffering, taking what food was of- 
 fered to him. His eyes followed his wife's 
 movements about the room and a satisfied 
 look came over his face when she sat by his 
 bedside with her hand in his. He made no 
 effort to talk, and for the first few days
 
 70 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 after the fever left him, she was content to 
 let him lie quiet. Then she talked to him, 
 asking him how he had rested and if he had 
 any pain. He made no answer ; but turned 
 and looked at her oddly and smiled. The 
 smile was like that of a child who in its 
 sleep is visited with beautiful dreams. As 
 the days passed, she told him of matters 
 about the house; who had brought him the 
 flowers and who had come to ask about him. 
 She dwelt at length on the good behavior of 
 Thomas and Laura; how they had let a 
 neighbor take care of them and had not cried 
 for their mother, but had tried to be good 
 because father was ill. And she ended the 
 story with the promise that on the morrow 
 the children were to be allowed to come in 
 for a few minutes. He made no attempt 
 to answer her but smiled as before and held 
 her hand close in his own. 
 
 The patient was sleeping so well at night 
 that the doctor advised Alice to go to bed 
 and rest. The nurse's cot was yet in the 
 hall. She drew it close to the bedroom door,
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 71 
 
 that she might hear the faintest movement 
 on the part of the patient. Then for the 
 first time since the accident she lay down 
 and slept. 
 
 It was early morning when she was awak- 
 ened by a movement in the bedroom. In 
 an instant she was wide awake and within 
 the room. The sick man was up and 
 dressed, and, standing before the mirror was 
 giving the last few touches to his dressing, 
 in just the same way she had seen him do 
 hundreds of times before. He was wearing 
 his watch which he had wound. The hands 
 had stopped the instant he had fallen, al- 
 most a month before. The mainspring was 
 broken but he did not realize that anything 
 was wrong with it. The hands never moved 
 away from that fatal eight-fifteen which 
 marked the time of his hurt. 
 
 "Why, Jim, you don't mean to get up?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But you are not strong enough! You 
 must remember that you're weak yet. You 
 had better stay in bed until the doctor comes.
 
 72 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 You've been too sick to get up this way." 
 "I'm not sick." She fancied he looked 
 at her oddly. She was almost decided to 
 send at once for Doctor Heiner, but with 
 second thought she gave that up. Men were 
 different from women and perhaps they be- 
 came well all at once without a long period 
 of convalescence. 
 
 Jim walked out into the hall and down 
 stairs. The street was quiet, the hour being 
 too early for pedestrians. He passed out 
 to the porch and, drawing forward a large 
 rocker, seated himself, and tilting it back- 
 ward balanced it and himself with his feet 
 on the railing of the porch. This was his 
 favorite loafing position. A thrill of joy 
 went through Alice as she saw him sitting 
 there. It was almost as though he had come 
 back from the dead. 
 
 It came to her then how long the past four 
 weeks had been and how she had suffered. 
 "I could never live through it again," she 
 said to herself. She was thin and haggard 
 from worry and loss of sleep, but her joy
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 73 
 
 at his recovery illuminated her face, making 
 it most beautiful. 
 
 She followed him to the porch where she 
 stood for a moment feasting her eyes upon 
 him. "I'm not going to sit down now, Jim. 
 You must have something to eat. It is very 
 early but I'll get breakfast. I don't wish 
 my foolish boy to be ill again. Don't sit up 
 until you're tired. That will do you harm. 
 You had better come in in a few moments 
 and lie down on the davenport." 
 
 "Yes," he said. 
 
 She went back into the kitchen and turned 
 on the drafts of the stove and began prep- 
 arations for breakfast. Never before had 
 the world seemed so beautiful to her. Jim 
 was really well again. Nothing else mat- 
 tered since he was left to her. She had been 
 worried about money matters. Her cheeks 
 flushed with shame at the thought. Money, 
 luxuries, the home were not matters to cause 
 concern. She would never allow them to 
 cause her a moment's worry again. 
 
 She brought out her best table cloth and
 
 74 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 took down the finest pieces of china in honor 
 of Jim's recovery. She laid the table so 
 that it looked like a picture and as she moved 
 about, her heart was singing a little song of 
 joy and thanksgiving. 
 
 "There! that does look nice,'* she ex- 
 claimed when all was finished. "I'm glad 
 I saved last night's cream, though I didn't 
 think Jim would use it." She tripped 
 through the hall to the porch. 1 1 Breakfast 's 
 ready, Jimmy! You'd better lean on me. 
 You don't know how weak you are." 
 
 Then she stopped. Jim was standing by 
 one of the pillars. His watch was open in 
 his hand and his eyes had a peculiar far off 
 expression. "There's Number Ten now," 
 he said. "She's done well to make the run 
 if she was an hour late at Eidgway. We've 
 orders for eight-fifteen. We'll pull out in 
 a minute." 
 
 He raised his hand, gave a conductor's 
 signal for starting and then turned and 
 looked straight into his wife's eyes, bewil- 
 dered and confused as though his mind was
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 75 
 
 crying out to her for help. She partly 
 understood, but not all. She slipped her 
 hand under his arm to steady him. "Come 
 to breakfast, Jim. I have lovely fresh eggs 
 for you. Mrs. Miller sent them in yester- 
 day. Doctor Heiner said you might have 
 eggs. ' ' While her lips were busy encourag- 
 ing him, her heart comforted herself with 
 the thought: "He's had such a shock, it 
 may take him several days to realize what 
 has happened. I shall not mention that he 
 has been hurt or has been ill until the doc- 
 tor comes." 
 
 Putting aside her own fears and weari- 
 ness, she served his meal and talked lightly 
 of the little matters of the home and chil- 
 dren. "I shall bring it back by degrees," 
 she encouraged herself. " I '11 talk as though 
 nothing had happened and after a while the 
 past will be clear to him." 
 
 "Thomas has never missed a day asking 
 about his red box or his new safe. You 
 remember you promised him a new safe the 
 next time you came in."
 
 76 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "A new safe?" he smiled placidly as 
 though the subject pleased him. 
 
 "Yes, Jim, don't you remember? You 
 took his red tin box in which to put the 
 money. You hid the money somewhere. 
 Don't you remember about it?" 
 
 "No; I don't know anything about a red 
 box or the money. I don't know anything 
 about it. Was I to know?" 
 
 He looked so distressed that Alice's heart 
 smote her. "No ; you were not to remember 
 particularly," she said. 
 
 But her words did not comfort him. His 
 glance wandered from her to articles about 
 the room as though he would find there what 
 he sought and then back to her again. His 
 eyes were like those of a wounded animal 
 who begged mutely and without avail for 
 help. 
 
 "Let me break this egg for you, Jim. 
 Isn't that lovely? You must eat every bit 
 of it so that you will get strong." 
 
 So with gentle persuadings, he finished his 
 breakfast and then she went with him to the
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 77 
 
 porch where they sat hand in hand and 
 waited for Doctor Heiner's early call. She 
 decided that she would say nothing at all to 
 the physician, but let him find his patient 
 as he was. 
 
 It was past eight o'clock when he came 
 down the street, his shoulders hunched for- 
 ward and his nearsighted eyes blinking in 
 the rays of an August sun. He did not rec- 
 ognize the occupants of the porch until he 
 had turned in at the gate. 
 
 "Well, well, what is this?" he cried, half 
 angrily. "My, but this is rash! Why did 
 you let him do it, Alice ?" She made no an- 
 swer but waited. He turned to Jim. "I 
 suppose you feel all right, but I've a notion 
 to lay you across my knee for getting up 
 without my knowing. How's the pulse?" 
 His finger was already upon Jim's wrist. 
 He drew out his watch. In an instant the 
 patient's watch the watch with the broken 
 mainspring and its hands marking the time 
 at eight-fifteen was in his hands. 
 
 "I've orders to pull out at eight-fifteen.
 
 78 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 That's Number Ten whistling now. We'll 
 pull out in one minute." He was on his 
 feet, erect and stalwart. He raised his hand 
 to signal, then turned and looked first at his 
 wife and then at the doctor with the look 
 of a wounded animal in his eyes. But there 
 was no help for him there. He sank back 
 in his chair. 
 
 A look passed from wife to physician. 
 She understood the condition without a 
 word. To live with the mind a blank to 
 know not that she cared and waited upon 
 him! To be a giant in body but an infant 
 in mind! She pressed her lips tight. She 
 would not give up. She would hope against 
 knowledge. Her love would do more than 
 a doctor's skill. Yet in spite of her effort, 
 fear conquered hope. Her lips trembled 
 and her eyes filled with tears. With a cry 
 of "Jim, Jim," she was on her knees by his 
 chair, her face buried against him, while 
 her body shook with sobs. He put forth his 
 hand and smoothed her hair. His own lips 
 trembled ; he looked up piteously at the doc-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 79 
 
 tor while his mind made a mighty effort to 
 break its chain. It was all in vain. He 
 turned and patted the bowed head. He 
 could not cry out, "Allie, Allie!" He had 
 forgotten even her name.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A NEED FOR THE LITTLE TIN BOX 
 
 Soon other considerations than that of 
 waiting upon her husband presented them- 
 selves to Alice. She had been getting her 
 household necessities at the store on the book 
 as every other workman's family in town 
 did. She had given no thought about a set- 
 tlement. When pay day came, she missed 
 the check to which she had been accustomed. 
 There was no prospect of wages for months, 
 if ever; but there were eighteen hundred 
 dollars in the little tin box, and that would 
 provide for them until Jim was able to work. 
 She had not given up the idea that Dr. 
 Heiner was all wrong and that Jim's mem- 
 ory would gradually awaken. She ques- 
 tioned him about the hiding-place of the 
 money. His reply was a smile and a gentle 
 
 81
 
 82 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 pressure of her hand. He seemed unhappy 
 when she was absent so she arranged her 
 work to be with him. He went with her 
 from parlor to kitchen, from cellar to bed- 
 room, always with the same gentleness of 
 manner and sweetness of smile. The chil- 
 dren had learned to adjust themselves to cir- 
 cumstances and played together, amusing 
 themselves with their childish games, and 
 claiming the attention of their mother as 
 little as possible. 
 
 When the money was needed, Alice began 
 a diligent search for the box. It was of a 
 size large enough to prevent it being slipped 
 into an extremely small space. She began 
 to search in the bedroom for it was there she 
 had heard him moving about when he had 
 hidden it. She went through every drawer 
 and closet, and moved each article of furni- 
 ture, turning it about and searching in every 
 nook and corner. So diligent and thorough 
 was her work that a pin could not have es- 
 caped notice ; but the box did not material- 
 ize. So on she went through every room of
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 83 
 
 the house and into the cellar, although she 
 knew he had not gone there. Then in a fit of 
 desperation, she took up the carpet and ex- 
 amined every foot of the floor in the hope 
 that he might have loosened a board and 
 hidden the box beneath. 
 
 When hope of finding it by searching was 
 given up, she turned to him and said in her 
 old care-free manner, "Jim, do tell me where 
 you hid the box. I'm tired hunting." 
 
 The answer was the same as it had always 
 been. "I have no tin box." 
 
 Then with the most delicate tact, she tried 
 again to bring the money to his mind. She 
 sat beside him and repeated the incident of 
 that evening, weaving the facts into a story 
 about a man named Jim and Allie, his wife, 
 and when she came to the climax she cried 
 gayly : "Now, where do you suppose he hid 
 the box?" With all her efforts the result 
 was the same. He had forgotten even the 
 first of the story. 
 
 The first week in September, the mail 
 brought her a formal notice that the sum of
 
 84 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 fifteen hundred dollars was due on the house 
 and lot and unless payment was made the 
 place would be sold. This aroused her. 
 Again she beseeched and pleaded with her 
 husband to tell her of the money. But noth- 
 ing was gained. 
 
 She remembered the piece of paper which 
 he had in his hand the day of the accident. 
 Perhaps it might bring back some of the 
 past. Taking it from the little trinket box, 
 she placed it where his eyes must fall upon 
 it. Then she laid it in his hand and said 
 coaxingly, "Look at this, Jim. Telluride, 
 Mexico. Who is there? Did you wish to 
 write to someone there?" 
 
 "No; I didn't," he said. 
 
 In her perplexity, she went to Doctor 
 Heiner. "There is but one hope," he said. 
 "His loss of memory has been caused by a 
 nervous shock. I feel confident that there 
 is no concussion or compression of the 
 brain. If there were, we could make that 
 right in a short time. I believe his condi- 
 tion is the result of a nervous shock. A
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 85 
 
 second shock might be the means of restor- 
 ing him. There are one or two incidents in 
 medical history which makes such theories 
 acceptable." 
 
 That was all he could do for her. Theo- 
 ries would neither cure her husband nor 
 feed her children. Taking care of these 
 three, all equally helpless, was the duty that 
 now confronted her. She knew not where 
 to go for help. One thing she decided, she 
 must not rest on the hope of Jim's being 
 able to help her. She had given that up. 
 From this time on she must be the head of 
 the family. 
 
 The question of the mortgage was to be 
 settled at once. She went to Mr. McCorm- 
 ick, a lawyer who had known her father and 
 mother during childhood. He was an old 
 man now with hair whitened with years and 
 a character ripened and mellowed by a life- 
 time of sacrifice. He could give her no en- 
 couragement. The foreclosing of the mort- 
 gage was but the fulfilling of the law.
 
 86 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "The place was worth twenty-five hun- 
 dred when we took it. Jim has put over 
 five hundred dollars of work and repairs on 
 it. The street has only been opened a short 
 time and every one says the property has 
 doubled in value. It's worth almost four 
 thousand dollars now. Must it all go for 
 fifteen hundred f" 
 
 "There'll be a sale. The property will go 
 to the highest bidder. Ruley will wish to 
 buy it in, of course. But," the old man 
 paused. He was old now and his body was 
 crippled and twisted out of shape. He had 
 thought to keep far from the worry and 
 strife of business, for he had been at it early 
 and late. All he longed for now was a little 
 quiet, an hour for reflection, an hour of 
 peace. But he pushed his desire away as 
 the outcome of selfishness, and comforted 
 her by saying, "But there is a way to make 
 Mr. Ruley pay dear for his whistle. The 
 property may be bid up close to its real 
 value. He may get the amount of the mort-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 87 
 
 gage but no more. There may be a little 
 left to tide you over until Jim is himself 
 again. " 
 
 Jim himself again I She knew that they 
 only spoke so to encourage her and not in 
 the belief that it would be so. She herself 
 knew that the time when Jim was himself 
 again would never come. Although she was 
 hopeless, she would not make it known to 
 the world. So she smiled bravely and an- 
 swered with all the cheerfulness she could 
 command, " Yes ; just enough until he is him- 
 self again. But, Mr. McCormick, how shall 
 I arrange to have it bid higher?" 
 
 "Ill see to that, Alice. Ill attend the 
 sale and bid with the others. I'll see that 
 you will have at least a few hundred dol- 
 lars." 
 
 She was so relieved. She could have time 
 then to look about her to see what she could 
 do. She could not leave her home and go 
 out to earn, for the children and helpless 
 man needed her every moment. But there 
 was sewing and washing and ironing. She
 
 88 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 grew sick at heart at the mere thought of 
 washing. She had found it a tax on her 
 strength to wash even for her own small 
 family and Jim in his great good-hearted 
 way had made her give it up and had even 
 given her tubs and wringer away lest she 
 be tempted to overtax her strength. But 
 now matters were different. Necessity 
 would know neither taste nor strength. 
 
 She arose and made ready to leave the 
 office. "We can stay in the house until the 
 sale," she said. "Then I suppose we must 
 go. I will not be able to live in this part of 
 town. I must get a smaller house ; but I do 
 hope I will have a yard for the children's 
 sake and for Jim's. Laura and Thomas 
 have been used to it and Doctor Heiner said 
 Jim must be in the air. I thought of a 
 garden. Perhaps " 
 
 "I've been thinking of a place. It came 
 to my mind while you were talking. There 's 
 two rooms down and two above. It's just 
 rough boards, without weather claps or 
 paint. But there's a stretch of grass in
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 89 
 
 front and a garden in the rear. Do you 
 know where the old mill-house stands near 
 the mouth of the Run?" 
 
 "Do you mean up Paddy's Run ; the place 
 built for the men that worked on the mill?" 
 
 " Yes ; but the mill has gone now and with 
 it the need of the house. That is vacant, 
 Allie. There are balsams and pines at the 
 foot of the hill the very place for growing 
 children and a sick man. The place belongs 
 to me. If you wish it, you may make use 
 of it." 
 
 "And the rent?" 
 
 He dismissed the subject with a gesture. 
 "I played with your grandparents when we 
 were all little six-year-olds; and I loved 
 your mother when she was a little toddling, 
 blue-eyed, yellow-haired girl. Do you think 
 I could charge her daughter for living in 
 a place that I can make no use of?" 
 
 Tears of relief came to her eyes. All had 
 been so dark and now the way was clearing 
 before her. Her lips trembled. "You're 
 so good so noble ' she began.
 
 90 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so, Alice. 
 When I was young, it came to me suddenly 
 that I could have nothing but a crippled, dis- 
 torted body. The knowledge fairly stunned 
 me at first but after a while I was recon- 
 ciled for I determined that my life should 
 make up for what my body missed. It does 
 me good to hear you say that I am good and 
 noble. When a young person says that to 
 an old, old man, it makes him believe that 
 perhaps the long seventy years have not been 
 wasted." 
 
 She could not put her thoughts into 
 words ; but she held out her hand and he held 
 it within his own. 
 
 "This trouble has been hard for you and 
 Jim, ' ' he said. There was no pathos or even 
 sympathy in his voice. He spoke in a prac- 
 tical tone as one speaks of practical things. 
 "But however hard, one must learn to bear 
 it patiently. " 
 
 "I have not complained," she said. 
 "Surely I have borne it patiently!" 
 
 There was a touch of irritation in her
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 91 
 
 voice, as though she felt that he criticised 
 her in her thoughts. 
 
 He understood. "No, you have not com- 
 plained. You have done well and yet, Alice, 
 it seems to me that you have borne it as one 
 bears a great wrong that has been done to 
 her. There is a better way, my child, a far 
 better way." 
 
 She made no reply; but her expression 
 showed her lack of credence. 
 
 "It is to bear it as a trial sent to you by 
 an All-Divine Providence which will ulti- 
 mately result in the greater good to those 
 who serve the Lord, my child. Believe that, 
 and bear this trouble not with resignation 
 in your heart but with hope and faith." 
 
 She shook her head in negation of such 
 a philosophy. "I cannot see what good may 
 come of rendering Jim helpless and driving 
 us from the home we have worked and saved 
 to get." 
 
 "Neither can I see it, now; yet I know it 
 is so. There is where your faith must serve 
 you, daughter the substance of things not
 
 92 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 seen. I have lived many more years than 
 you, Alice, and declare now that those things 
 which came to me as trials were blessings. 
 It was my own dullness of perception 
 that made them seem other than they were." 
 
 "I wish I could think so. But I cannot. 
 Why should Jim, who never said an unkind 
 word to anyone, who worked and planned 
 to give his children a good home and 
 opportunities which were denied him, why 
 should he be stricken, while scores of other 
 worthless men go on their way doing harm 
 to everyone?" 
 
 "It is beyond me to know, Alice, yet I 
 know that in the end you and Jim and the 
 babies will be the gainers. I suppose to an 
 ignorant person it seems a waste to throw 
 gold into a furnace, but the smelter knows 
 what means must be used to gain the de- 
 sired end. 
 
 Perhaps you and Jim, with all your work 
 and sacrifice, saw no further than yourselves 
 and your babies. iWho knows but an All- 
 Seeing Providence felt that you were too
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 93 
 
 'fine material to be lost ; and sent this warn- 
 ing to you that you might know that the 
 works and plans of man are nothing, for 
 over all rests the palm of the Lord?" 
 
 Again she shook her head. "I wish I 
 could think so, but I cannot. Perhaps the 
 time may come " 
 
 4 'The time will come; it may be delayed 
 for years, yet the time will come when you 
 will believe this," and he arose to open the 
 door for her. 
 
 On her way home, she stopped at Mr. 
 Buley's office to tell him that the mortgage 
 could not be met, and that he must proceed 
 as the law allowed him. She had a few days 
 of grace yet. If only the money could be 
 found ! As she passed a tin store, she went 
 in and purchased a tin box in color and size 
 similar to the missing one. Then she 
 changed her last five-dollar bill to one dollar 
 notes. 
 
 "I'll try once more. Perhaps this will 
 make him remember."
 
 94 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 She renewed her courage and was brisk 
 and smiling when she entered her home. 
 
 "What do you think has happened, Jim 1 ?" 
 she cried. "Lane's bank has failed! I 
 went and drew out the money. See, here 
 it is!" She displayed the few paltry dol- 
 lars. "I'll roll them and put them in this 
 box so that they will be safe from mice and 
 damp. Will you hide them for me? I'm 
 afraid to have so much money about me." 
 
 She put the box into his unresponsive 
 hands. He gazed at it for some minutes, 
 perplexed and uncertain. His mind seemed 
 groping about to find that which was lost. 
 For an instant there was a passing gleam of 
 the old intelligence like a ray of sunlight 
 in a dark room. Then the shadows came 
 again, and he stood uncertain, bewildered, 
 struggling. 
 
 Alice stood waiting. What had occurred 
 once might again. The room was so still 
 that she could hear her own heart beat. 
 
 Again came that fleeting bit of light.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 95 
 
 When it came, Jim turned and with the box 
 in his hand passed out into the kitchen. 
 There was the old resolute manner and bear- 
 ing in his movements. Without hesitation, 
 he passed through the kitchen and on down 
 the walk toward the woodshed. She fol- 
 lowed far enough away that her presence 
 would not recall his thoughts to the present, 
 and yet near enough that she might see 
 where he placed the box. 
 
 It came to her as she crossed the back 
 porch that the same night that he had hidden 
 the money, he had passed through the kitch- 
 en and out through the back yard just as 
 he was doing now. He had gone into the 
 shed that evening and had chopped kindling. 
 Perhaps, after all, he had carried the box 
 with him. 
 
 He came close to the shed door. The axe 
 was in the chopping-block as he had left it 
 weeks before. 
 
 Dropping the tin box among the chips and 
 wood, he seized the axe and began to chop
 
 96 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 as though his life and safety depended upon 
 this work. 
 
 Alice 's heart sank. Her last hope of find- 
 ing the money had left her.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 INTO THE NEW HOME 
 
 A few days later the notice of the sale was 
 posted about town and on the side of the 
 house. In due time the people gathered 
 about the premises, examining the house 
 from attic to cellar and measuring the width 
 and depth of the lot. 
 
 Alice felt that she could not witness the 
 actual sale nor did she wish Jim to meet cu- 
 rious eyes of strangers. With the children 
 and her helpless husband, she went to a 
 friend's house several squares distant. 
 They had gone early in the day, but a short 
 time before the hour fixed for the sale she 
 became anxious about Mr. McCormick's be- 
 ing present. It might be that Mr. Ruley 
 would have matters in his own hands. The 
 law required two bidders to make the sale 
 
 97
 
 98 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 legal. But Ruley could easily arrange such 
 a matter were lie disposed to do so. 
 
 She slipped away from her friend's house, 
 leaving Jim and the children there, and went 
 back home. A little crowd had gathered 
 about the front porch on which the sheriff 
 stood, and a number were grouped about the 
 yard, trampling down the vines and flowers 
 and scattering empty tobacco bags and 
 cigar stumps over the grass. The sight was 
 enough to make her heartsick. It was with 
 a feeling of relief that she remembered that 
 the plants, the bushes and the lawn were no 
 longer hers. 
 
 She looked about hurriedly for the old 
 lawyer and at last saw him sitting by the 
 open window of the parlor, his twisted hand 
 resting upon his cane. 
 
 When she had started out she meant to 
 return to her family at once, but uncertain 
 as to the outcome she remained. She took 
 her place in a secluded corner of the hall- 
 way where she could hear the business trans- 
 acted on the porch.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 99 
 
 The sheriff began his work with the de- 
 scription and location of the property with 
 all the whys and wherefores necessary to 
 law. Then the bids began. Someone in the 
 crowd began at a thousand dollars, which 
 was closely followed by a second bid of 
 twelve hundred. 
 
 Alice peered from the corner. She smiled 
 sadly to herself when she recognized who had 
 made these bids two men who had never 
 been able to provide a decent month's living 
 for their families. She knew that neither 
 of them had a dollar nor a dollar's credit. 
 "They are working for Ruley," she said to 
 herself. As though in answer to her 
 thoughts, the voice of Ruley himself was 
 heard raising the bid to fifteen hundred 
 the amount of the mortgage he held against 
 the place. 
 
 The sheriff dwelt at length on the value 
 of the property. A half hour passed in his 
 auctioneering, yet no bids came. Alice 
 trembled. Was she to lose every penny of 
 what they had paid in? [Why was Mr.
 
 100 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 McCormick silent? The sheriff raised his 
 hammer. 
 
 "Two thousand dollars!' 7 said Mr. Mc- 
 Cormick. 
 
 "Ill raise it one hundred," cried Ruley, 
 who was concerned now that he realized that 
 Mr. McCormick was not present as a mere 
 spectator. 
 
 "Ill make it twenty-three hundred," said 
 the old attorney quietly. Ruley again raised 
 and so the price went up between them, by 
 steps of a hundred dollars at first and at 
 last by half that amount. 
 
 "Thirty-five hundred," was Ruley 's bid. 
 At this Mr. McCormick dropped from the 
 contest. This last bidding had not lasted a 
 quarter of an hour. Alice's heart grew 
 lighter as the price rose. 
 
 "We can manage on that," she whispered 
 to herself. It had not been the mere bread- 
 and-butter phase of living which had con- 
 cerned her most. She was thinking of help 
 for Jim. 
 
 When the sheriff at last brought down the
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 101 
 
 hammer, she slipped through the house and 
 went back to her husband and the babies, 
 homeless but not despondent. She would 
 have a little money enough to bring the best 
 medical aid to Jim. He would recover and 
 they would start in again at the bottom of 
 the ladder and for a second time build up a 
 little home. 
 
 The transfer of the property was made 
 and the money paid into her hand. There 
 had been some expense connected with the 
 sale to which she was liable. So in all there 
 was less than two thousand dollars paid into 
 her hands. 
 
 She put it into the bank and then went to 
 Dr. Heiner. 
 
 "I have not been satisfied about Jim," she 
 said. "I have the money from the sale of 
 the house. I wish you to send for the finest 
 specialist you know, for I feel that Jim can 
 be helped." 
 
 "You are hoping against certainty, Alice. 
 If there was hope of Jim's being helped, 
 the railroad men would have had a specialist
 
 102 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 here long ago. You will spend your last 
 penny and nothing will come of it. Be ad- 
 vised by me. Keep Jim in the air, employed 
 if you can, but at least contented and happy. 
 All your thought and care can do no more 
 for him than that." 
 
 But she would not take the advice. 
 
 "At least write to some specialists I 
 know neither their names nor where to find 
 them and tell them how Jim is and what 
 caused it. Ask opinions about it. Then if 
 they say nothing can be done, I'll not bother 
 you. Will you do that for me?" 
 
 "Ill do that. I'll write not to one but 
 to several men that have the reputation of 
 understanding the nervous system and the 
 brain. If one holds out a hope, Alice, we'll 
 have them here to see Jim." 
 
 "You'll write soon? You won't put it 
 off?" 
 
 "I'll write to-day. I promise you that." 
 
 She left the office partly satisfied. Dr. 
 Heiner began at once on the letters. He 
 repeated the story of the accident and said
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 103 
 
 the man was suffering from loss of memory 
 from the nervous shock. He wrote that 
 sentence not as a supposition on his part but 
 as a statement which had been proved. He 
 left no way open to those to whom he wrote 
 gave them no idea that the loss of memory 
 might have resulted from some other cause. 
 His confidence in his diagnosis put himself 
 and the specialists wrong. A similar an- 
 swer came from all ; nothing could be done. 
 Time alone might help the afflicted man ; the 
 science of medicine and surgery was power- 
 less. 
 
 Before Alice began her moving, she made 
 another search of the premises. The little 
 tin box was somewhere about ; but she could 
 not find it. As she put her household goods 
 in order, she had the box always in mind. 
 Though box and trunk and chest were 
 emptied and repacked, the box and the 
 money were not found. 
 
 She walked down the street with Jim 
 while the men came to haul the household 
 goods. She feared that the sight of this
 
 104 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 home-leaving might agitate him, so they 
 were gone all morning, walking along the 
 river road. The children were busy gather- 
 ing the little field daisies while she walked 
 hand in hand with Jim, answering his smile 
 with a smile. She talked with him about 
 every subject that came to her. She called 
 his attention to the flowers by the path or 
 the birds that took wing at their approach. 
 Whatever her words, the result was the 
 same. He smiled up at her and pressed her 
 hand closer in his own. So they wandered 
 about all morning. At noon they came back, 
 but not to the old home. Friends had put 
 the mill-house in order. When Alice came 
 in with Jim and the children, the stove was 
 up, the table set, and the dinner itself ready 
 to serve. 
 
 Alice watched her husband closely, hoping 
 that the sudden change of environment might 
 arouse him, but in this she was disappointed. 
 He sat down at the table, seemingly uncon- 
 scious that a change had taken place in his 
 surroundings.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 105 
 
 Thomas laughed and talked about the new 
 home. Laura prattled and asked many 
 questions which the mother found difficult 
 to answer. The father heard their words 
 but gave no heed. Since the accident he 
 had never noticed the children's presence. 
 They had climbed up on his knee and wound 
 their arms about his neck, and he endured 
 their caresses but did not return them. 
 
 Alice let them go in their own way, neither 
 encouraging nor discouraging them. She 
 was afraid that they might forget the father 
 of the months before, and would grow fear- 
 ful of this man who sat silent and irrespon- 
 sive to their caresses. 
 
 The mill-house stood a half mile up the 
 Run at the foot of the lofty heights of the 
 Alleghenies. The mountain rose like a great 
 wall back of it green in the sunlight and 
 black and sullen and foreboding at night. 
 The heavier timber had been cut years be- 
 fore. The heights were marked with a pine 
 and hemlock growth, the fragrance from 
 which was borne down the slopes and into
 
 108 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 the valley. The air was clear and bracing, 
 putting ambition and energy into the mind 
 and frame. 
 
 The house itself consisted of four great 
 rooms; two above and two below. It was 
 not plastered but lined with builder's paper 
 over which was pasted the ordinary wall 
 paper. A roughly made porch ran the 
 length of the house and faced the stream. 
 A cleared spot which had been gardened 
 several seasons, but now overrun with weeds, 
 extended up the mountain side, and was 
 fenced with stumps which had been drawn 
 to make room for the mill and house and 
 yard. 
 
 Alice put the place in as good order as she 
 could. She kept Thomas and Laura busy 
 in clearing the stones from the place before 
 the door. Although it was now the last of 
 September, she set out hardy vines about 
 the house and fence, hoping by the next 
 season their tendrils would make beautiful 
 that which was now bare and unsightly. 
 
 Jim was always by her side. Once or
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 107 
 
 twice the old intelligence came like a re- 
 flected ray of sunshine. At such times he 
 took the spade from her hand and dug and 
 planted as she had been doing. After such 
 experiences Alice's spirits revived. Some 
 time the past would come back. 
 
 Her work was constant and some times 
 heavy. During the winter she sewed for 
 families in town, and baked bread and rusks. 
 She did whatever work she could, consider- 
 ing neither the limitations of time nor physi- 
 cal strength. There were days when even- 
 ing found her nerves and body exhausted, 
 yet it mattered not how worn and tired she 
 was or how irritable her nerves, her voice 
 was soft and gentle as she talked with Jim ; 
 and she returned his smile and caress as in 
 the old times when she had his love and 
 strength to protect and nothing to annoy or 
 weary her. 
 
 She earned a few dollars a week with her 
 sewing and baking, but not enough to pro- 
 vide the necessities for this family of four. 
 Little by little a dollar from the money which
 
 108 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 came from the sale of the house was spent. 
 She saved in every possible way and con- 
 sidered well before she used a penny. She 
 worried every time she drew on her fund, for 
 she had always in mind the ambitions which 
 Jim had for Thomas. As far as she was 
 able, she meant to do everything for the 
 children which Jim would have done. The 
 money in the bank would help Thomas to a 
 medical school if she could save it. 
 
 The first winter was not nearly so stren- 
 uous as it might have been. She was not 
 worn out and she still retained her hope of 
 everything coming to pass as she desired it. 
 The children had been well provided for in 
 the way of clothes and needed little. Jim 
 too had several good suits and overcoats. 
 So they were comfortable and well-clothed 
 without any great expenditure. 
 
 When summer came, she took some of her 
 own old dresses and made them over for 
 Laura. This left her narrowed down but to 
 two or three dresses, one of which was the 
 white linen she had worn the last evening
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 109 
 
 Jim had been himself. This dress she could 
 not bring herself to wear again although she 
 needed it badly. She kept it well-bleached 
 and ironed. Although she was hardly con- 
 scious of her reason for clinging to it, yet 
 the thought was with her that she could not 
 wear it again until Jim was himself. She 
 still kept the little slip of paper with the ad- 
 dress Telluride, Mexico upon it. Several 
 times she had taken it from its place and 
 begged her husband to look at it. He did as 
 she requested and smiled at her and, then 
 turning, smoothed the soft hair which 
 touched his arm. 
 
 For weeks during the winter the roads 
 to town were snow blocked. Day after day 
 she sat in the house with Jim and the chil- 
 dren. If she was not sewing, she told them 
 stories or invented games to make the long 
 days pass quickly. Often she sat with 
 Laura in her arms, Thomas leaning against 
 her knee and her husband sitting in a chair 
 by her side, his hand in hers. 
 
 The mountains gave her a sense of se-
 
 110 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 curity. The old road up the mountains to 
 the lumber camps had not been used for 
 years. She could mark it now by; the heaps 
 of drifted snow. 
 
 When the season opened again, her 
 friends and neighbors came down from 
 town. They were at loss what to do for her, 
 for she seemed to need neither encourage- 
 ment nor help, for her hope was beyond 
 theirs and her manner and face showed no 
 mark of suffering or sorrow. But one or 
 two discerned the firmer curve of her lips 
 and the stronger light in her eyes. She had 
 set herself firmly that Jim would get well 
 and that she would take care of him and the 
 children until he did. How long that time 
 might be or how she might accomplish her 
 purpose did not come to her. She meant to 
 do it regardless of all handicaps. 
 
 The only time she showed any feeling on 
 the subject was when a friend said to her, 
 "Allie, are you not afraid to be here alone 
 with him ? You do not know what turn his 
 affliction may take. He might harm you or
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 111 
 
 the children. The burden of taking care of 
 all is too much for you. You could put him 
 in an institution " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence. Alice 
 turned to the children and said quietly: 
 " Thomas, you and Laura pick a basket of 
 chips for mother and start the fire for sup- 
 per." 
 
 When they had gone from hearing, she 
 turned to her visitor. Her eyes were snap- 
 ping with indignation. " Never again say 
 such a thing before the children ! Not for 
 worlds would I put the idea of fear in their 
 little heads. Do you think that I could ever 
 be afraid of Jim? Why, he never harmed 
 anyone or said an unkind word in all his 
 life. As to putting him away " 
 
 She stood up and flinging out her hands, 
 cried with spirit, "As long as I'm able to 
 stand as long as I'm able to crawl about, 
 Jim stays with me. Do you understand? 
 He did everything in the world to make me 
 happy and do you think I would leave him 
 when he's helpless ? No ; not for an hour I"
 
 112 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 It was easy to be spirited and decided 
 when others were there, and she kept up 
 bravely even when alone. But the greatest 
 factor of her sorrow was not the loss of 
 home or luxuries. 
 
 "Jim, ' ' she said one day. l ' Who am I ? " 
 
 He smiled but attempted no answer. 
 
 " What's my name, Jim?" She put her 
 arms about his neck, and looked up into his 
 face as she repeated the question : * ' What 's 
 my name, Jim? What do you call me?" 
 
 He smiled again and touched his hand to 
 her hair. Again and again she tried to 
 have him call her by name, but her efforts 
 were in vain. The Alice of the old days had 
 no part in his life. After one of these 
 fruitless attempts, she flung herself face 
 downward on the couch and sobbed until 
 her body was shaken. She could have stood 
 suffering, poverty and work if he would 
 have called her "Allie," as of old. 
 
 Her tears and sobs troubled him. He 
 stood beside her with the piteous look of a 
 hunted animal. His lips quivered and grew
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 113 
 
 white as he knelt and laid his cheek against 
 her tear-stained one. It was all he could 
 do. "Jim, dear call me Allie do say 
 Allie, just once, Jim!" 
 
 Tears of suffering came to his eyes. He 
 shook his head, bewildered and perplexed. 
 He could not recall her.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE LUMBER ROAD 
 
 Several years passed, marked by no 
 change except that Alice was wearing out 
 from the constant attendance upon her hus- 
 band and the steady work without recrea- 
 tion of any kind. Each year more money 
 was needed for necessities. It took more 
 time and material for the children's clothes 
 and their growing bodies demanded more 
 food. Each year more of the fund was 
 withdrawn from the bank. Alice could 
 economize as far as her own wants were 
 concerned and deny herself even the neces- 
 sities, but she could not let the sacrifice 
 touch Jim and the children. She wore her 
 plain dark cambric dresses through summer 
 and winter. The bits of ribbon and lace 
 115
 
 116 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 and finery she had worn as a young married 
 woman were now utilized for Laura. 
 
 Thomas had been in school four years. 
 He was a slender, delicate boy of a sensitive, 
 refined disposition. He had justified his 
 father's early hopes of him, for he loved 
 books and was a born student. He was a 
 quiet boy. Perhaps he realized the condi- 
 tions about the house more than his mother 
 suspected, and the knowledge weighed upon 
 him, giving him the quiet, serious mind of 
 one years older. 
 
 Laura was eight, and as light and airy of 
 disposition as a butterfly on the wing. She 
 was as delicately featured and beautiful as 
 a figure in Dresden china. 
 
 Leading up the mountain side from the 
 mill-house was the road over which lumber 
 had been hauled years before. It was grass- 
 grown now and wild berry vines grew over 
 it; yet there was neither timber nor heavy 
 underbrush. On the very crest of the moun- 
 tain was the old camp of the lumbermen. It 
 was built of round logs with windows which
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 117 
 
 swung outward and a rough door was fas- 
 tened with a latch made from a slab. It had 
 been built to accommodate a half -hundred 
 lumbermen. There was an immense kitchen 
 and dining-room, beyond which was a lobby 
 with wooden bunks built around the walls. 
 The five-leaved ivy had covered one end of 
 the building and in the cleared space before 
 the door were two giant oak trees. 
 
 The walk up the mountain side was a long 
 and hard one, but it offered a wealth of 
 beautiful scenery and invigorating air. 
 
 Since the summer that Thomas was six 
 he had taken this walk with his father. 
 When the berries were ripe, they picked a 
 basketful as they wandered along, and when 
 they reached the camp in the woods, they 
 sat down on a rock under the oaks and ate 
 their lunch. 
 
 The second summer that such journeys 
 were taken, Thomas worked with a new pur- 
 pose in mind. Picking berries was no 
 longer a pastime, but real work. With his 
 father, he started out early in the morning
 
 118 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 and picked all day long. With evening they 
 came down the mountain road, the boy stag- 
 gering under his load and almost fainting 
 for sheer weariness. 
 
 When he had eaten his supper and made 
 himself clean, he started out for town to sell 
 the berries, peddling them from door to 
 door. 
 
 Alice stood in the doorway watching him 
 until he had turned the bend of the road. 
 A boy eight years old, peddling from door 
 to door! Neither his father nor she had 
 planned such a life for him. He came home 
 tired, but before the summer was over his 
 muscles had grown hard and strong, and the 
 sensitive nerves were forgetting their own 
 existence. 
 
 When berries were unseasonable, there 
 were flowers or ferns to be gathered. So all 
 summer Jim and his children lived on the 
 mountain side. 
 
 The only irritability that Jim had shown 
 during these seven yeans was in the pres- 
 ence of strangers. He grew nervous and
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 119 
 
 uneasy then and the appealing looks he gave 
 his wife were those of one who felt that he 
 was not as others. 
 
 Alice did not often subject him to this un- 
 pleasantness, for she permitted but one or 
 two old friends to come to the house in the 
 wood. It was always with a feeling of re- 
 lief that she watched the children and their 
 father start out for a day on the mountains. 
 He seemed glad to go and she knew that he 
 was safe for that day at least. 
 
 At intervals she attempted to recall his 
 mind to the past, but without results. 
 When the children were asleep or in bed 
 for she would not in their presence suggest 
 that anything was amiss with their father 
 she asked him of the hidden money, trying 
 by every means in her power to lead his 
 thoughts back. She kept the little slip of 
 paper with the address on it, and again and 
 again brought it out and called his attention 
 to it. Always when his eyes rested on the 
 paper, he looked up at her piteously, and 
 for the instant she fancied she saw the light
 
 120 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 of intelligence pass like a ray of sunlight. 
 
 Each day was a new day to him; each 
 hour, a new hour. His mind held neither 
 past nor future, only the single present mo- 
 ment, and even that was not fully compre- 
 hended. 
 
 There was one exception; one moment of 
 the past remained. He yet carried his time- 
 piece with the broken mainspring and the 
 hands which always pointed to eight-fifteen. 
 Whenever his eyes rested upon its face, he 
 spoke of Number Ten being long past due, 
 and wondered what kept her late. He gave 
 his signal for the train to pull out just as he 
 would have done had grace been granted to 
 him seven years before. 
 
 Alice often felt as though she could not 
 see him go through that pantomime, so she 
 slipped the watch away and hid it for sev- 
 eral months. It mattered little how busy 
 she was or how tired she was in body and 
 spirit, each moment that her mind had lei- 
 sure its first thought was to plan something 
 that might reach Jim.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 121 
 
 It came to her one evening that she would 
 move the hands of the watch and let him 
 have it again. Perhaps he would be able to 
 grasp the change and the shock might stir 
 his benumbed faculties into life. She con- 
 sidered the matter well. The change might 
 only annoy him, and she could not bear that. 
 Several days passed before she could bring 
 herself to make the change. When she did 
 so, she laid the watch where he would find 
 it when he dressed. She watched him 
 closely. He put it on mechanically as he 
 did the articles of clothing, and did not 
 glance at the face. 
 
 Later when the opportunity came to her, 
 she slipped it from his pocket and laid it 
 face upward in his hand. He glanced at it, 
 and then springing to his feet, declared that 
 they would pull out in a few minutes. It 
 had been the watch and not the time which 
 had recalled his last conscious act. 
 
 The little fund of money was dwindling. 
 There was enough to provide the necessities 
 for another year, but little more. Alice
 
 122 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 would not permit herself to think of her 
 children's future. They trudged into town 
 to attend the public school, but Alice saw 
 nothing before them when they had finished 
 that course except work without special 
 preparation. She feared more for Thomas 
 than for Laura, for he was not strong and 
 was marked by a highly sensitive tempera- 
 ment which would make his struggle with 
 the world a peculiarly trying one. 
 
 Not only the money was running low, but 
 her physical strength also. She found that 
 she was forcing herself to work which be- 
 fore had not tired her. The daily routine 
 of the house, and sewing was burdensome. 
 Each evening she was glad to go to bed at 
 dusk ; but even this brought no rest, for her 
 mind was busy planning and contriving to 
 make her strength and money last until she 
 could prepare the children for their life 
 work. 
 
 Mr. McCormick had read her well seven 
 years before. Her mental attitude toward
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 123 
 
 the trials which had been sent upon her and 
 her family had not changed. For several 
 years she had performed each duty faith- 
 fully and had looked about her that nothing 
 was left undone, but she did it for love of 
 Jim and her children. She had not com- 
 plained or asked help of anyone because her 
 natural instincts were against whiners and 
 beggars. Her love and her pride had 
 caused her to fulfill her duty uncomplain- 
 ingly and well; but there had never been a 
 high sense of trust or faith in what she did. 
 She had never once said to herself that this 
 affliction had been sent upon them by a wise 
 and loving Father, and though she could not 
 understand the reason for this chastise- 
 ment, she was willing to believe that it was 
 wisely sent and would result in ultimate 
 good. There was always a rebellious feel- 
 ing in her heart when she considered the 
 matter. Her great strong husband who 
 had done his work well and always had a 
 kind word for everyone, why should he be
 
 124 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 stricken, and her innocent babies why 
 should they be deprived of a father's love 
 and protection I 
 
 Her thoughts ran on such lines whenever 
 she considered the subject. It was well for 
 her that her hands and mind were busied; 
 else her rebellious thoughts might have de- 
 veloped into a bitterness. 
 
 The children and their father had gone 
 out early in the morning one spring day in 
 search of the rhododendron, and the mother 
 sat by the window overlooking the lumber 
 road. Her fingers were busy with her sew- 
 ing but her glance wandered toward the 
 grass-grown route up the mountain side. 
 
 The sound of wheels reached her ears. 
 Heavy wagons were coming toward the mill- 
 house. She could tell that they had turned 
 from the main road for there was the sound 
 of creaking axles as the vehicles bumped 
 over the rocky road. 
 
 In a few minutes several teams and rough 
 wagons loaded down with boxes and crates
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME . 125 
 
 passed by her window. She could distin- 
 guish several objects a coal-oil stove, sev- 
 eral cots and mattresses. The wagons were 
 piled high and the heavy draft horses 
 strained every muscle as they started the as- 
 cent of the mountain. 
 
 When Thomas came in, she inquired if 
 he had seen the teams or knew what they 
 meant. 
 
 "I did not see them, mother," he replied 
 in his serious, quiet way. "We were on the 
 edge of the road when I heard someone 
 talking to the horses. When I heard them 
 I turned down toward the old spring. We 
 sat and rested there until the people had 
 passed. We couldn't see or be seen where 
 we were sitting. I thought they might be a 
 party of fishermen going out to the woods. 
 I was afraid they might worry father, so we 
 went down where they would not see us." 
 
 This was the first time that the boy had 
 suggested that his father was not as other 
 fathers and needed to be cared for.
 
 126 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "That was the best thing to do," Alice 
 said gently. "You must always take care 
 of father, Thomas." 
 
 The coming of the hunters, as she sup- 
 posed them to be, worried her more than she 
 was conscious. They were in her thoughts 
 before she fell asleep and she dreamed of 
 them all night long. 
 
 The following morning when the children 
 and their father were about to set out on 
 their search for flowers, Alice suggested go- 
 ing with them for a short distance. 
 
 "I'll let my sewing lie," she said, embrac- 
 ing both children and husband in the smile 
 that she had never let them miss. "We'll 
 walk up the Run instead of going up the 
 mountain. The walk will be fine, and you'll 
 find different kinds of flowers." 
 
 Laura was delighted with the prospect of 
 a change; but Thomas understood the rea- 
 son for their not going up the mountain. 
 Alice walked with them until they were 
 safely on their way and then turned back to 
 finish the sewing.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 127 
 
 For several days, the teams made one trip 
 each up the mountain road. One after- 
 noon, one wagon laden with trunks and 
 traveling bags passed by the door on the way 
 up the mountain. 
 
 Alice laid down her sewing and waited. 
 She had the feeling that her privacy had 
 been intruded upon and that a change was 
 coming to the old mill-house. She and her 
 little family could not be again as they had 
 been this seven years. She was not wor- 
 ried and anxious now but she was depressed 
 and hopeless; Her husband's weakness 
 would be before the eyes of strangers whose 
 tongues might be busy with comment of her- 
 self and family. 
 
 The needle trembled in her hand until she 
 could not take a stitch. At last the little 
 garment dropped in her hand and her head 
 fell upon the window-sill. For the first time 
 in seven years she sobbed until the frail, lit- 
 tle body shook with emotion. The pent-up 
 rebellion of all these years broke forth in 
 words, "Oh, why has the Lord sent this upon
 
 128 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 me ? Why could we not be left alone in our 
 sorrow and affliction?'* 
 
 The mountains raised their mighty heads 
 in majesty before her as though they would 
 have given her the answer if she would have 
 lifted her eyes unto the hills, from whence 
 cometh help. 
 
 As she sat overcome with this new trou- 
 ble a three-seated light wagon turned to- 
 ward the lumber road. The occupants were 
 a gay set, but when they passed the mill- 
 house their laughter and talk stopped, for 
 sitting by the window was a worn, tired little 
 woman with her head bowed in sorrow.
 
 PART TWO 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE HOME IN THE CITY 
 
 The library was an immense room with 
 long, narrow windows looking from the 
 front on the paved streets and from the side 
 on a narrow, brick driveway. Hundreds of 
 finely bound volumes filled cases of polished 
 wood, and from nooks and corners marble 
 fauns and their like peered forth. The rugs 
 were Persian and the few paintings were 
 originals from master hands. The rich 
 draperies were drawn before the windows to 
 shut out the glare of the afternoon sun, and 
 the room was in semi-darkness. 
 
 Coming into this room from the light- 
 flooded hall, Mrs. Houston groped her way 
 to the leather covered davenport and lay 
 129
 
 130 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 down upon it for a few minutes' rest for she 
 had risen early and had been busy until that 
 moment. She had taken upon her own 
 shoulders a score of responsibilities which 
 rightfully belonged to others. She was a 
 woman of middle age, wiry, nervous and en- 
 ergetic and was often misunderstood, for 
 all her excellent qualities of mind and heart 
 were hidden by a brusque, sharp manner. 
 She repelled on first acquaintance; it took 
 months to learn that she would deny herself 
 leisure and all else to help another. Her 
 luxuries and wealth made no strong appeal 
 to her. She wanted air and sunlight with 
 hygienic conditions and the freedom of a 
 home. A dimity curtain pleased her eye 
 more than the most elaborate handworked 
 Battenberg one. 
 
 "I don't care about it," she said brusquely 
 one day to a friend who was showing her a 
 collection of handmade laces. "It always 
 brings to mind the tired eyes and jerking 
 nerves of the one who has sat indoors for
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 131 
 
 months to work at it. I'd rather breathe 
 fresh air one hour and rest my eyes on one 
 growing oak than look at all the laces poor 
 needlewomen have ever made." 
 
 Mrs. Houston was tired this afternoon 
 and needed rest for she had promised to 
 sing in the evening at one of the missions in 
 the east end of the city. She closed her 
 eyes and was dropping off into sleep, when 
 a cough came from the front windows. It 
 was a peculiar little cough as though the 
 guilty party was doing her best to stifle it. 
 
 "Margery, is that you?" asked Mrs. Hous- 
 ton, wide awake in an instant. 
 
 "Yes, mother." 
 
 "What are you doing?" 
 
 "I'm sitting here back of the curtains 
 reading." 
 
 "What?" The question was put in such 
 a way that a casual hearer might believe 
 that Margery would be inflicted with the 
 severest punishment if her answer was not 
 in accordance with her mother's ideas of
 
 132 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 what was suitable for a young girl's ears. 
 Margery gave the title of the ponderous vol- 
 ume which she was skimming through. 
 
 1 'Come here, Margery, please." 
 
 The girl came from behind the curtains. 
 She was long and lank for a girl of twelve. 
 Her shoulders drooped forward; her face 
 was pale and thin, and her long braid seemed 
 to weigh her down. She came across the 
 room and stood beside her mother, waiting 
 to hear what she might say. There was a 
 respect and obedience in the girl's attitude 
 and promptness that told of excellent breed- 
 ing and training. 
 
 "I wish you would walk down to the farm 
 for me. Tell Mr. Lykens to bring some new 
 peas to-morrow and as much extra cream as 
 he can spare." 
 
 " Couldn't you telephone?" 
 
 "I prefer you to take the message. On 
 the way back stop at Mrs. Gardner's and 
 ask her if she has a second copy of the music 
 for this evening. If she wishes you to stay
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 133 
 
 a while and play with Khoda, you may. 
 You needn 't hurry back. ' ' 
 
 "Mr. Gardner was making a trapeze for 
 Rhoda the last time I was there. It was to 
 be in the carriage shed. I wonder if he has 
 it done." 
 
 "Perhaps. And, Margery, do not walk 
 along the dusty road. If you go along the 
 footpath by the river you will be cool and 
 shaded all the way." 
 
 1 1 Yes, mother. ' ' Margery was already in 
 the hall putting on her flappy big sun hat. 
 She coughed as she left the house but as 
 usual did her best to stifle it, and succeeded 
 so well that she almost strangled herself with 
 the effort. She had had barely time to reach 
 the corner when Mrs. Houston went to the 
 telephone and called up Mrs. Gardner. 
 
 "I've sent Margery down on an errand," 
 she said. "I'm not at all anxious about a 
 second copy of the music for this evening. 
 The songs are old and I know them; but I 
 wished to get my little girl out into the air.
 
 134 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 She's been indoors all day, moping over a 
 book. I gave her permission to visit Rhoda 
 if you asked her. I wish your Miss Ath- 
 letics would teach her a few tricks on the 
 trapeze or run her a race over the fields; 
 anything to keep her moving out of doors." 
 
 That was all. Mrs. Houston went back to 
 the couch and lay down again, closing her 
 eyes in an effort to sleep. She had disposed 
 of her daughter for the afternoon but worri- 
 some thoughts of her held possession of the 
 mother's mind. She was alarmed at Mar- 
 gery's condition and not without reason. 
 The girl was growing fast, was tall beyond 
 her years, and this rapid growth had robbed 
 her of much of her strength. She was satis- 
 fied to sit curled up with a book until her 
 shoulders stooped and a hacking cough an- 
 noyed her. 
 
 Mrs. Houston had spoken to the family 
 physician concerning her. Acknowledging 
 that the cough might develop into a disease, 
 his advice had been to take the girl to a
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 135 
 
 higher altitude and to let her run wild in the 
 open air. 
 
 Since the consultation with the doctor 
 Mrs. Houston had looked about her for a 
 suitable place. She disliked the fashionable 
 summer resorts, feeling that the constant 
 gayety and fine dressing would not build up 
 Margery either physically or ethically. All 
 available places were filled with summer 
 boarders. So far she had been unable to 
 find any place that suited her for Margery. 
 
 Nothing had been said of these things to 
 the girl herself for the mother believed it 
 unwise for a young person to let her mind 
 dwell much on aches and pains ; neither had 
 she spoken of the matter to her husband. 
 He was engrossed in business. His dinner 
 hour and evening were the only times he 
 could be home and she hesitated to intrude 
 the family troubles upon his little leisure. 
 So far as the management of the house and 
 children were concerned, she was the head. 
 She was accustomed to make her plans, see
 
 136 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 to their arrangements and then lay the mat- 
 ter before him. He would listen attentively, 
 nod approvingly while she talked and then 
 respond, "Well, well, you surely have a good 
 head for detail, Sue ! You should have been 
 a business woman. I don't see how you 
 manage the children the way you do. Every- 
 one who mentions our girl and boy say that 
 they're the best trained youngsters to be 
 found. I told Kendig the other day after he 
 spent Sunday here that I didn't take any of 
 the credit ; I left that for their mother. The 
 only credit I do take is that I selected the 
 mother. Now, Sue, about this new plan. 
 You and the children for it! How much 
 money will you need ? ' ' 
 
 Supplying the money was as far as he as- 
 sumed the responsibility. He knew that his 
 wife would manage well without his sugges- 
 tions or help and he left such matters in her 
 hands. 
 
 But now she had reached a place where 
 she could not act. She waited until the din- 
 ner was over, the children interested in their
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 137 
 
 amusements, and she was alone with her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " Something must be done about Mar- 
 gery!" she exclaimed brusquely, as though 
 she was blaming him and Margery for the 
 condition of affairs. 
 
 "Why? Has she gotten beyond you, 
 Sue?" He looked up from his paper and, 
 in an attitude of attention, waited for her to 
 continue. 
 
 He was a big, portly, good-natured look- 
 ing man upon whom the cares of the world 
 rested lightly. He was not one to go out to 
 meet trouble and when it intruded itself 
 upon him, he soon rid himself of its pres- 
 ence. Yet with his easy-going way, he was a 
 power along certain lines. The name of 
 Houston stood high in the lumber market. 
 He knew the value of lumber from the 
 green young sapling in the forest to the 
 finished, polished article ready for a draw- 
 ing-room. He made no pretense of know- 
 ing anything else, but he knew that he 
 was master along these lines. He had been
 
 138 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 brought up at the business; he had lived 
 in the lumber-camps as a boy; he had sur- 
 veyed land and scaled logs as a young 
 man. Now, in middle age, his judgment 
 was accepted when it came to the val- 
 uation of tracts of timber land, or the num- 
 ber of million feet of logs a certain section 
 could produce. When the lumbermen 
 brought down the rafts in the spring, he 
 walked over the timber and said, "Oak I'll 
 give you eight hundred cash. Hemlock 
 not worth more than six hundred." His 
 prices gave the jobbers a fair profit for their 
 time and money, and he himself never lost 
 by the transaction. 
 
 Now, when his wife did not answer at 
 once, he repeated the question. "Has she 
 gotten beyond you, Sue?" 
 1 1 Scarcely ! I had in mind her health. ' ' 
 1 ' What 's wrong ? I didn 't notice ' ' 
 "Of course you didn't! I didn't expect 
 you to notice. But the child is growing too 
 fast. She has no vitality and she has such 
 an annoying cough."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 139 
 
 "See the doctor," was his advice. 
 
 "I have. Do you suppose I would have 
 bothered you if that was all there was to be 
 done? I 've been to Doctor Harter." 
 
 Then she related in detail what had taken 
 place at the doctor's office and the advice 
 which had been given to her. "Now, where 
 am I to go ? " she asked. 
 
 He looked as perplexed as though she had 
 inquired of him where to find the golden ap- 
 ples of the Hesperides, and began an enu- 
 meration of the fashionable summer resorts. 
 
 "Nonsense, Fred! You don't grasp the 
 situation ! I want some quiet place high in 
 the mountains where fashionable society 
 will not intrude. I want the children to 
 wear plain dark clothes, live out all day and 
 run in their bare feet if they take the notion. 
 Just three months of Indian life where 
 they'll have nothing daintier than bacon and 
 eggs." 
 
 "Oh, I begin to understand," he said at 
 length. "It comes to me now about a letter 
 I had from a young fellow up the road.
 
 140 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 He's put the reins in our hand. What do 
 you think of a camp on top of the Alle- 
 ghenies?" 
 
 "Or an air castle? One seems about as 
 probable as the other." 
 
 "The camp is practical. Let me tell you 
 first about the letter from this young man. 
 I don't know him, but he lives up towards 
 the middle of the state. It seems he belongs 
 to a club and so he wrote to ask if a party of 
 them might have the use of the old hunter's 
 camp at Paddy's Run. I intended to tell 
 him to go ahead and make what use they 
 could of it, but this opinion of the doctor 
 about Margery gives another face to the 
 matter. The camp must be a little run down 
 but that can be easily attended to. What do 
 you think of it?" 
 
 "It sounds good; but I'd like to know 
 more about it." 
 
 "You shall know all I remember of it: a 
 great log affair with bunks built in the lobby 
 for beds and a cleared space of half an acre
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 141 
 
 about it so that there'll be no immediate 
 trouble with snakes. But best of all, Sue, 
 when you're there you can look down on the 
 clouds in the valley below. It's so far away 
 that the sound of civilization never reaches 
 it and yet I think it is only four or five miles 
 from the camp to the mouth of the Run. Up 
 there you can wear flannels in July and 
 you'll get so hungry that you'll eat anything 
 that's set before you. There's the smell of 
 pine and hemlock everywhere. Why, it's 
 heaven 's own land ! ' ' 
 
 His wife smiled grimly. "It's strange I 
 never heard you tell of it before." 
 
 "I've been busy with other matters and 
 haven't had time to think of it. But it's 
 the very place for us all. I'll send some men 
 up to clear it out and see what's needed to 
 put it in order. We'll be comfortable and 
 quiet for a few months. We'll go as soon 
 as the place is fixed up. You'd better make 
 out a list of what you'll need. There'll be 
 cots and blankets don't forget blankets,
 
 142 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 Sue, though it is July and bacon and eggs 
 and coffee, and Jamison will take up a Jer- 
 sey cow and we'll live like kings/* 
 
 "Well, I'm surprised! You are more ex- 
 cited and pleased than the children will be 
 when they hear the plans. " 
 
 "That's because they've never been there. 
 I've been homesick for the place. But per- 
 haps you and the others will find it lonely. 
 You'd better ask someone to go along. The 
 place was big enough to hold a hundred men 
 in close quarters." 
 
 "I thought of taking a party. Huldah 
 must go along to cook and I thought of let- 
 ting her ask one of the other girls which 
 ever one she could get along with best." 
 
 "Make out a list of supplies, but remember 
 this, Sue; jot down what you think will be 
 plenty and then double that amount. You'll 
 find that will last you about half as long as 
 you've counted on. It's a rule of camp that 
 a man's stomach quadruples itself." 
 
 The conversation ended there. She 
 turned away to get a book and pencil. So
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 143 
 
 far as she was concerned the matter was set- 
 tled. She knew the camp would be put in 
 order in the shortest possible time, and that 
 it was left to her to have in readiness the 
 household necessities, servants and guests. 
 
 When the children were ready for bed she 
 mentioned the subject to them. Margery 
 did not enthuse, but that was her way. Her 
 quiet, "I'm glad of that," meant quite as 
 much as William's joyous expletives. 
 
 When she left and the children were in 
 bed, William carried on a conversation with 
 his sister in the room adjoining. He had 
 great schemes of what he would do on the 
 mountain top. 
 
 "I hope there'll be rattlers, Marge! 
 Don't you? I never killed one. I'd like to 
 tell the fellows about it next year. I'd keep 
 the rattlers, but you could have the skin for 
 a belt." 
 
 Margery shuddered. "William, do talk 
 something else ! I can feel the snakes crawl- 
 ing about everywhere." 
 
 "Ralph Payne was camping once when a
 
 144 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 panther sprang in on them. They were sit- 
 ting around the fire and no one ever sus- 
 pected that there was a panther anywhere. 
 They shot it, of course, but not before one of 
 the men got its teeth in his shoulder. I wish 
 father would take some guns. We'll need 
 them. What would we do if a bear would 
 come walking into camp 1 I 'm going to ask 
 father to get me a rifle." 
 
 1 1 And blow our heads off ? Ugh ! ' ' Mar- 
 gery shuddered and hid her head beneath 
 the bed clothes from which she soon emerged 
 to exclaim, " William Houston, if you don't 
 stop talking of such horrible things, I'll " 
 She could think of nothing dreadful enough 
 to awe him. 
 
 "Old scarey!" he cried. "There'll be no 
 fun if you girls are along. Rhoda will be all 
 right. She has as much nerve as a boy. 
 I wish mother wouldn't take any more 
 along." 
 
 "I tell you whom I wish she wouldn't take 
 along." There was real concern in Mar-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 145 
 
 gery's voice as she spoke which was not the 
 result of pique or whim. 
 
 "Who!" 
 
 "Uncle Doctor. Do you think she'll take 
 him?" 
 
 "If she does, I won't go," said William. 
 "And mother won't be able to make me." 
 
 As if in answer to his bit of heresy, Mrs. 
 Houston spoke from the hall below. "Not 
 another word tonight, William." 
 
 "No, mother," was the reply. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PREPARATION FOR CAMP. 
 
 Margery was two years older than Wil- 
 liam but her attitude toward him was that of 
 a middle-aged woman toward a little child. 
 At rare intervals she quarreled with him 
 after a childish fashion but such occasions 
 were rare. Usually she admonished and ad- 
 vised him and went out of her way to be good 
 to him. 
 
 41 Maybe he doesn't feel good, mother, " 
 she would say when Mrs. Houston took Wil- 
 liam to task for some neglect of work. "He 
 seemed so tired out. I 'd let him sleep late, ' ' 
 she would say cajolingly to the head of the 
 house when William did not appear at the 
 breakfast table. 
 
 She did everything in her power to please 
 this younger brother, even to her choice of 
 147
 
 148 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 friends. So far in her short life, she had 
 found one thing she could not do even for 
 William and that was to put the stretchy, 
 ugly angleworms to the hook. She had tried 
 it several times but had gotten no further 
 than to take the distasteful things in her 
 hand. 
 
 At the mention of the camping party, her 
 first thought had been to invite Mabel Wade 
 and Isabelle Geary, her most intimate 
 friends in school. They were fond of paint- 
 ing and books and fancy work and they 
 hated angleworms as much as she did. For 
 the same reason that she was fond of these 
 girls, William disliked them and objected to 
 their being of the party. William's pleasure 
 always first in Margery's mind, she put her 
 own wishes aside and decided that Rhoda 
 should be her guest and went at once to her 
 mother. "Ill ask Ehoda, mother, for my 
 guest, if you do not mind." 
 
 Mrs. Houston looked up in surprise from 
 her accounts. She knew Rhoda, the out- 
 door girl, had little in common with Mar-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 149 
 
 gery, the student. She hesitated before re- 
 plying, for she felt that Margery would en- 
 joy Mabel's and Isabelle's company, but per- 
 haps Rhoda would do her the most good and 
 for that purpose they were going. 
 
 "Ask whom you please," she said ab- 
 ruptly, turning back to her work. "I 
 didn't limit the number. You may ask 
 
 more.' 
 
 "I think Rhoda will be enough." 
 
 A light suddenly came to Mrs. Houston. 
 She knew that William could play the part 
 of tyrant in his boyish way. She turned as 
 Margery was leaving the room. 
 
 "Why does Will like Rhoda better than he 
 does the other girls?" 
 
 "Because she isn't afraid. She baits 
 hooks with those terrible wriggling worms ! 
 When she was in school last spring, she had 
 her coat-pocket full of fish worms, and they 
 crawled out over her desk." Margery 
 pressed her lips tight after this statement, 
 and with an effort suppressed a grimace of 
 disgust.
 
 150 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Does Mabel like worms, and skinning the 
 cat?" 
 
 "No, she hates them almost as much as I 
 do. But Rhoda is not afraid of anything. 
 She used to handle all the old bones on the 
 skeleton when we were studying anatomy. 
 She did it to make us creep." 
 
 "I wish you to ask Mabel and Isabelle to 
 go with us. There '11 be room for all. ' ' 
 
 The house was a scene of excitement for 
 several days following the decision about go- 
 ing into camp. Mr. Houston had sent sev- 
 eral men ahead to put the place in repair and 
 to make out a list of articles needed for the 
 comfort of the campers. 
 
 William was gathering his particular 
 friends together to discuss the needs of one 
 who lives in the wilds. Margery, more 
 quiet but quite as active, was busy from 
 morning until night. She had been willing 
 to sacrifice her own pleasure about inviting 
 only Rhoda, yet she could not help feeling 
 glad that her mother had taken the matter
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 151 
 
 in her own hands. She was a strange, quiet 
 girl with an abnormally developed sense of 
 duty, who had been over-restricted and over- 
 trained until the freedom of childhood had 
 been lost. William thrived and was gay 
 and happy under the same training but it 
 was his nature to effervesce and bubble over 
 with joy on the slightest provocation. 
 
 But Margery, with her highly sensitive 
 organism, her ideas of duty and honor, 
 needed no discipline. She would have de- 
 veloped better if she had been left without 
 rules and laws. Her mother had recognized 
 this truth for some months, and was doing 
 all in her power to undo the effect of her 
 over-discipline. She now tried to force 
 upon her freedom of choice and manner. 
 
 "You'll need some indoor games and 
 books for rainy days, Margery," said her 
 mother. "You had better attend to that 
 matter. I'll be busy with the necessities." 
 
 "Very well. What games shall I take 
 and what books?"
 
 152 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "I'll leave that to you. They are to be 
 for your amusement. Take what you 
 wish." 
 
 "May I ask the girls to help me select 
 them!" 
 
 "Do precisely as you choose. The mat- 
 ter is in your hand. When you need money, 
 come to me." Then thinking better of it, 
 she counted out some bills. "Use that; I 
 think it will be enough to see you through. 
 If it isn't, come to me." 
 
 Margery had barely quitted the room 
 when William came in through a low win- 
 dow. He was whistling gayly, while Nero, 
 the big mastiff, lumbered after him. 
 
 "I wish that dog kept out of the house, 
 William." 
 
 "I can't do it. He won't stay anywhere 
 without me." His face beamed with smiles 
 as he met his mother's eyes. He thought he 
 had settled effectively the question of Nero's 
 presence in the house. 
 
 "Then stay outside with him. I will not 
 have the floor tracked so." She turned
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 153 
 
 back to the housekeeping accounts with the 
 air of one who has finished the interview. 
 
 William opened the low window. 
 
 "Come, go out, Nero!" The huge mas- 
 tiff looked up into his master's face and see- 
 ing that he was in earnest, straightway 
 walked out. 
 
 Coming back to his mother's desk, he 
 asked : * ' Can I buy what I need for camp ? ' ' 
 
 "Make out a list. I'll look it over." 
 
 ' * But I 'd rather do the buying ! I 'd make 
 such bargains. I know how I'd save a good 
 bit if I could buy what I wanted." 
 
 "I'm not at all anxious about the bar- 
 gains, William! Make out your list, and 
 I'll see that you have all that is suitable." 
 
 "You gave Marge " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence for his 
 mother gave him such a look that he ceased. 
 "That is my affair and Margery's," she said 
 curtly. "You and your sister are wholly 
 different people." 
 
 * * All right. I '11 make out the list, ' ' he re- 
 plied cheerily. "I '11 see the fellows. Maybe
 
 154 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 they'll think of something that I haven't." 
 
 "I don't doubt it," dryly. 
 
 "Say, mother, is Uncle Doctor going with 
 us? If you haven't asked him, don't do it. 
 We'll have ever so much more fun if he 
 isn't along." 
 
 "Never mind Uncle Doctor now. It isn't 
 wise to trouble yourself about matters which 
 are really no concern of yours. If Uncle 
 Doctor is to be there, he'll be there. You 
 have invited your guests without question 
 and your father and mother intend taking 
 the same privilege." 
 
 "Oh, all right, but he makes me mad, but 
 I'll keep away from him." 
 
 "Mabel and Isabelle are also going." 
 
 "Are they?" 
 
 To his mother's surprise there was a tone 
 of eagerness in his voice. She had ex- 
 pected him to express a wish for their names 
 to be taken from the list of guests. But 
 she understood when he added gleefully, 
 "Then look out for the fun! I can keep 
 them racing over the mountain if I am only
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 155 
 
 lucky enough to get a little green wood- 
 snake. Isabelle has a voice like a Coman- 
 che Indian." 
 
 "When did you hear a ComancheT' 
 
 "I meant she has a voice like I imagine 
 a Comanche has. I'm going down to see 
 Tom Jones and Warren Dehants. I've 
 asked them and they'll be wild when they 
 know those yellers are going. Whatever 
 made Margery ask them?" 
 
 "Margery had nothing to do with it. I 
 said that they should be invited." 
 
 He walked off crestfallen, for now the 
 matter was out of his hands. He could 
 have managed Margery, but his mother was 
 beyond his control. 
 
 Margery, memorandum and pencil in 
 hand, had gone for an interview with the 
 girls. She felt weighed down by the re- 
 sponsibilities of so great a sum of money 
 as her mother had given her. She would 
 much rather have made out the list and had 
 her mother suggest changes. 
 
 Fortunately for her peace of mind, Isa-
 
 156 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 belle, to whom she went first, had not the 
 same idea in regard to money. She heard 
 Margery's story, looked upon the bills and 
 cried out in excitement: "I wish I had so 
 much to spend! You're a lucky girl, Mar- 
 gery. I never have more than a dollar at 
 a time, and I do love to go shopping!" 
 
 Margery's heart grew light at these 
 words and her countenance brightened. 
 Spending money was a pastime then in- 
 stead of a burdensome duty to be per- 
 formed. 
 
 "I'm glad you feel the way you do, Isa- 
 belle. Then you'll go with me to the stores. 
 I was afraid that you would not care to." 
 
 1 ' Care to? Well, I think I shall! The 
 next best thing to having money of your 
 own to spend is helping some one spend 
 theirs. Mother is in her room. I'll return 
 in a moment." 
 
 In a short time she was back with Mar- 
 gery and ready to start. Khoda and Mabel 
 joined them later.
 
 'You've made a nice job of it, keeping me in bed 
 almost a week." (See page ;>.>/.)
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 157 
 
 "Will says he's going to have a rifle if 
 his mother lets him get it," said Ehoda. 
 "I do hope he will. We could hunt for 
 bears and panthers then." 
 
 "Do you suppose there are any near the 
 camp?" Mabel asked, her cheeks growing 
 pale at the mere thought. 
 
 "That's why I'm going," declared Rhoda. 
 "If it wasn't for the hope of seeing a few 
 wild animals and a copperhead or so, I'd 
 sooner stay at home." 
 
 "You'll have to walk to see them," said 
 Margery in her thoughtful, gentle way. 
 "Father says that we need not be afraid 
 of animals there. He would not send us 
 there if there was any danger." 
 
 "I can scarcely wait until we start," said 
 Mabel. "I've never been in a camp before 
 and to be on the very top of the mountains 
 will be romantic!" 
 
 "My father has been there. He said we 
 could look down and see the clouds in the 
 valley; but I don't understand how that can
 
 158 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 be. I have a notion that he's teasing me," 
 said Isabelle. "But clouds or no clouds, I 
 intend having the time of my life." 
 
 " So do I! It seems to me that I cannot 
 wait until we start. It will be so romantic 
 just like a novel," replied Mabel. 
 
 For a moment Margery was quiet. "I 
 think I'll have a good time. I know I shall 
 unless one thing happens, and if that hap- 
 pens, it won't be such fun." 
 
 The girls looked at her with eyes opened 
 wide in surprise. "Do tell us, Marge. Is 
 it something dreadful? Does your mother 
 intend us to study? Will she take Miss 
 Warner with her?" 
 
 "No, it will not sound so dreadful to hear 
 me say it but that's because you don't 
 really know. You can't realize it until you 
 have lived in the house with him. It's Un- 
 cle Doctor. I'm afraid mother will ask him 
 to go along." 
 
 1 Uncle Doctor ! Who is he ? " 
 
 "Just what he sounds like. He is moth-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 159 
 
 er's half-brother and years and years older. 
 Why, I suppose he's at least fifty! He's a 
 doctor and he cuts people's arms and legs 
 off and all that, and never seems to care a 
 bit." 
 
 "Well, he won't cut mine off," said Isa- 
 belle. "He don't need to try his experi- 
 ments on me, if that is what you're afraid 
 of!" 
 
 "I wasn't thinking of that. Of course, 
 he only does that when people are hurt. 
 But when you see him, you'll know. 
 Even Will is afraid of him." 
 
 "Does he beat you or swear at you?" 
 cried Rhoda, eagerly. Personally, she 
 would have enjoyed standing by and look- 
 ing on at a game of fisticuffs. 
 
 "No, do you think he's a heathen? He's 
 a gentleman, but he's different from other 
 people. I never can get my voice above a 
 whisper when he's near, and when I see 
 how sad and miserable he is, I feel like 
 crying. I've cried more than once," she
 
 160 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 added, blushing at this confession of senti- 
 ment. "But he's had a dreadful sorrow, 
 and it's made him touchy." 
 
 "What was it? Did he hurt someone? 
 Maybe he got excited and cut the leg off 
 the wrong man! I've heard of such mis- 
 takes," said Khoda. To do the young lady 
 justice, there was little of which she had 
 not heard, and her knowledge was always 
 at her tongue's end for the edification of 
 those who cared to listen. 
 
 "He wouldn't do anything like that. He 
 isn't just an ordinary doctor, Khoda. He's 
 known everywhere, and he's paid thou- 
 sands of dollars to make people's backs 
 straight, and their legs longer, and fix up 
 their brains when they don't act right." 
 
 "What's his name?" asked Rhoda. 
 
 "His real name is Henry Brenhizer, but 
 we call him Uncle Doctor. My mother 
 thinks he's lovely and she makes a great 
 fuss over him, but then she knows how sad 
 he is and she told me that she sympathizes 
 with him."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 161 
 
 "Um m," said Rhoda. That word 
 sympathise put her all at sea for she could 
 not quite grasp its meaning. But being a 
 creature thirsty for knowledge, she wasted 
 no time until she asked pertinently, "What 
 trouble did he have, Marge?" 
 
 "I can't tell you now, Rhoda. It's too 
 long a story and we can't talk and shop 
 both, and we're almost at Gray's store. 
 But I'll tell you the whole story when we 
 go into camp. Some night we'll sit by the 
 campfire and I'll tell you what makes 
 Uncle Doctor so queer." 
 
 "By the campfire! That will be so ro- 
 mantic just like a novel," said Mabel. 
 
 The first of the week the party of camp- 
 ers set forth for the mountain heights, go- 
 ing by train to the railroad town, and then 
 driving up Paddy's Eun to the old lumber 
 road. As they turned into the Run, they 
 came to the little old mill-house, now cov- 
 ered from foundation to roof by the rich 
 green of the woodbine. As they drew near, 
 
 they saw a woman with head bowed upon 
 u
 
 162 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 the window-sill. Her sewing was in her 
 hands, but her slender figure was shaken 
 with sobs. 
 
 Instinctively the laughter and chatter 
 died. 
 
 "How romantic just like a no veil" said 
 Mabel.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE GIRLS MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE 
 
 There had been some discussion about a 
 name for the camp. William and Tom 
 Jones insisted upon a name which meant 
 something to their ears, at least. They sug- 
 gested Panther's Lair, Three Bears and 
 The Rattler's Nest, but the girls expressed 
 their dislike for the names in giving forth 
 little affected shrieks of horror. 
 
 William was disgusted. "I suppose you 
 girls would like to have it called Cosy-Cor- 
 ners or Rest-a-While-Lodge, or some such 
 lady-like name!" 
 
 "What I think would suit them," said 
 Tom Jones with his most serious air, " would 
 be: The Tellers' Camp, The Lodge of the 
 Shivers, or The Let-Me-Be, or The Don't- 
 You-Dare Camp." 
 
 163
 
 164 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "It would make you yell, Tom Jones, if 
 some one dropped a snake down your 
 back," cried Isabelle. 
 
 "But it wasn't a snake, Isabelle. It was 
 only the tendril from a wild grape vine. 
 I told you what it was the moment you 
 began to yell, but yell you would, and all 
 about a little bit of a vine afraid of a 
 vine!" 
 
 "I wasn't afraid of the vine! I knew 
 it wasn't a snake after you told me so, but 
 it was the idea. Did the idea of something 
 horrible never make you afraid?" 
 
 "No, nor anything else. If there had 
 been a wildcat within hearing he would 
 have turned and run until he would have 
 dropped in his tracks from weariness. " 
 
 "There's really little fun going into 
 camp with girls," said William, "that is, 
 some girls." 
 
 "If Isabelle isn't yelling, Mabel has cold 
 shivers, or Margery is reading a lecture on 
 Don'ts and Do's." 
 
 "And what about me?" asked Rhoda.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 165 
 
 " You '11 do," was the not too gracious re- 
 ply. " You're just as afraid as the other 
 girls, but you've got enough grit not to let 
 on." 
 
 They were sitting on a shelf of rock some 
 distance from the cabin. William made 
 his little speech and then got up and moved 
 away from the group. He made a wide cir- 
 cle so as to come up back of the girls. Had 
 they not been so interested in the discussion 
 of the camp name they would have noticed 
 his actions and their suspicions would have 
 been aroused. 
 
 "I'm not afraid of anything of that kind 
 snakes and bugs," said Rhoda decidedly. 
 
 "I'm not afraid either," said Isabelle. 
 "It is only that the idea is so horrible. 
 When I even think of snakes, I shudder, 
 even though I'm home, cuddled up by the 
 fireplace in the dead of winter. It's the 
 idea of " 
 
 She ended with a shriek, and sprang into 
 the air. The other girls did not stop to in- 
 quire the cause of her sudden action, but
 
 166 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 joined their voices with hers and raced 
 after her across the narrow footpath lead- 
 ing across the mountain. After them, his 
 face fiendish with delight, came William, 
 holding in his hand a wriggling gutta-percha 
 snake which he had provided before leaving 
 home. He ran as fast as his legs could 
 carry him, and the girls before him, crying, 
 "He's coming, he's coming!" 
 
 Tom Jones stood on the rocky ledge to 
 watch, them. As the girls scrambled and 
 tumbled through the bushes, he bent double 
 in the excess of delight and shrieked with 
 laughter. 
 
 Excited and panting for breath, Mabel 
 turned down a side path and Khoda fol- 
 lowed, but Margery and Isabelle did not 
 observe their course and plunged on down 
 the mountain side. 
 
 William, whose purpose was to torment 
 Rhoda, since she had been such a braggart 
 about her bravery, followed her and Mabel. 
 
 Isabelle and Margery ran forward, 
 screaming. The path soon ended in a little
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 167 
 
 thicket of trees, and into this the girls 
 plunged, still thinking that the other girls 
 and William were close behind. On and on 
 they ran until Margery stumbled and fell 
 from exhaustion. Isabelle stopped beside 
 her. 
 
 "I don't care, let him come, with that 
 snake! He wouldn't dare put it on us. 
 William will tease but he wouldn't go so 
 far as to hurt anyone." 
 
 She seated herself at the foot of a great 
 oak and rested against its trunk. Isabelle 
 sank down beside her, turning as she seated 
 herself to look back the way by which they 
 had come. 
 
 "I did not think we were so far ahead," 
 she panted. " Perhaps Will has become 
 tired and sat down to rest." 
 
 They sat until they had recovered their 
 breath and were ready for another run, all 
 the while glancing apprehensively about 
 them lest William would come upon them 
 unawares with some new form of torment. 
 But he did not appear on the scene, and
 
 168 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 after being thoroughly rested, the girls 
 arose and started toward the camp. They 
 walked at a rapid gait, expecting Wil- 
 liam to pounce out upon them from behind 
 every great tree. 
 
 Suddenly Margery stopped. "We didn't 
 pass that spring on our way here," she said. 
 "Isabelle, we're lost!" 
 
 "Oh, nonsense! How do you know what 
 we passed? You were running so fast and 
 thinking only of William. We might have 
 passed a dozen springs and you would not 
 have noticed. Come, let us hurry on. We 
 may be further from camp than we think." 
 
 She increased her speed, and Margery of 
 necessity followed. Isabelle was not a little 
 disturbed about Margery's suggesting that 
 they were lost, but she was brave enough 
 to keep her forebodings to herself. 
 
 Suddenly Margery stopped for a second 
 time. They had come to the decayed trunk 
 of an oak lying across their path. "I'm 
 sure we never clambered over that, Isabelle.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 169 
 
 We're lost! I was sure from the first that 
 we were lost." 
 
 "We can turn back then and find the 
 right way," was the answer given bravely 
 as she faced about. "These paths lead 
 somewhere, and we'll be sure to come to 
 civilization if we keep on." 
 
 They turned and walked several miles, 
 each with the hope in her heart that the 
 next turn of the road might bring the camp 
 in view. They were well tired out by this 
 time and very hungry. 
 
 "It was William's fault," said Isabelle. 
 "If he wouldn't have tormented us, we 
 wouldn't be here." 
 
 "We shouldn't have run," was Mar- 
 gery's reply. William, with all his faults, 
 in her eyes could do no wrong. "If we 
 wouldn't shriek and yell so, he would not 
 enjoy racing us. I would have known that 
 it was only a gutta-percha snake if I had 
 only stopped to think." 
 
 "Then why didn't you stop to think?"
 
 170 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 said IsabeUe tartly. She was worn out in 
 body and worried in mind, and it was 
 really a relief to put the blame on some one. 
 They were wandering aimlessly now, peer- 
 ing about them from right to left, afraid 
 of they knew not what. 
 
 "Do you think there might be bears- 
 began Margery, looking over her shoulder 
 and then drawing closer to Isabelle. 
 
 "Margery Houston, don't you dare men- 
 tion bears or think of them, either! Wait 
 until we get back to camp. I have enough 
 on my mind without hunting for other trou- 
 bles. Here's a big rock. Let us rest be- 
 fore we go further." 
 
 "I wonder what time it is!" said Isa- 
 belle. 
 
 "It must be almost dinner time. I no- 
 ticed our shadows were very short as we 
 stood in that little open space." 
 
 "They will be ready for dinner at 
 camp, and " Margery began but was un- 
 able to fininsh. 
 
 "What are you crying about? Because
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 171 
 
 they are making ready for dinner? Well, 
 I'm glad of it! Perhaps they will ring the 
 bell so loud that we will hear it, and if we 
 don't come, they'll know something has 
 happened, and will come and look for us. 
 I'm glad it is dinner time. We'll be found 
 so much the sooner." 
 
 They waited but no sound came to their 
 ears. Margery would have wept had not 
 Isabelle prevented. 
 
 "What is the use of that, Margery? You 
 will not see me cry if we stay out all night. 
 They'll find us some time, for if we are 
 not home soon they will send out searching 
 parties. I'm not afraid of staying lost; but 
 I'm hungry. I wish we had brought a 
 lunch with us." 
 
 "But we didn't intend being lost," was 
 the sage rejoinder, "so how could we have 
 thought to bring a lunch?" 
 
 "Let us shout," said Isabelle at last. 
 "Someone may be quite near and hear us. 
 Now, ready, both together. Cry 'we're 
 lost.' "
 
 172 SIXTY-FIVE ONT TIME 
 
 They raised their voices and shrieked 
 aloud, "We're lost! We're lost!" 
 
 But no answer came. Again they 
 shouted with the same result. 
 
 "There is little use sitting here. Let us 
 start to walk again, '^suggested Isabelle. 
 
 Margery was in such a state of mind that 
 she could not object, but passively followed. 
 They walked slowly now for their limbs 
 were almost too weary to carry them. 
 
 "I saw someone over there in the bushes," 
 at last whispered Margery, clutching Isa- 
 belle by the arm. l ' I think it 's a man, but it 
 might be an animal." 
 
 "It might be the little Jersey cow that be- 
 longs to camp. If it is, we'll start her to- 
 ward home. She'll know the way and we'll 
 follow. I'll look in there and see." Part- 
 ing the underbrush, she left the cleared 
 space and moved toward the spot Margery 
 had designated. Margery followed close at 
 her heels. 
 
 "It's a man picking berries," said Isa-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 173 
 
 belle. "He isn't a tramp for lie is well- 
 dressed and he has a bucket and tin cup. 
 Come on!" 
 
 She came quite close to the stranger before 
 he heard her. Then he looked up and smiled 
 and turned his attention again to picking the 
 berries. 
 
 "We're lost," said Isabelle. "Could you 
 tell us how to reach the lumber camp at the 
 head of Paddy's Run?" 
 
 The man had listened as she talked but 
 made no attempt to answer. 
 
 "We're lost," she said with more decision 
 in her voice. "Will you tell us how to get 
 back to camp or to get somewhere?" 
 
 Again came the peculiar smile, but no 
 words in reply. 
 
 "Can't you hear?" she shouted now with 
 all the strength of her lungs. 1 1 We 're lost 
 lost ! Can you hear that ? We want to go 
 back to camp the lumber camp. We've 
 wandered about since eight o'clock this 
 morning."
 
 174 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 At the mention of the time, the man's face 
 changed. It was as though a ray of sun- 
 shine had fallen over a shadowy place. 
 
 "I wonder why Number Ten is running 
 late. Yes, IVe orders to pull out in a few 
 minutes. There she goes now!" He 
 raised his hand, only to let it fall again. 
 The baffled, worried look came for the in- 
 stant to his eyes, then he smiled and turned 
 to his berry-picking. At his first word the 
 girls had clutched each other tightly. ' 1 He 7 s 
 crazy," whispered Isabelle, now thoroughly 
 frightened. 
 
 * ' It 's a crazy man. This is worse than be- 
 ing lost," cried Margery, making no effort 
 to keep the words from his ears. He heard 
 but heeded not ; he had turned to his task of 
 clearing the low blue huckleberry vines. 
 
 The girls were too frightened to move, 
 but stood clutching each other tightly and 
 watching the man as he worked. 
 
 As they stood so, the branches at a dis- 
 tance parted and a young boy came into the 
 cleared space. He, too, had been picking
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 175 
 
 berries and his bucket was already filled. 
 He paused when he saw the girls. 
 
 " What's the trouble?" he asked, noticing 
 their fear. 
 
 "The man has frightened us. He's 
 crazy," stammered Isabelle, too frightened 
 to speak plainly. 
 
 The face of the boy flushed. "He's not 
 crazy, ' ' he said. 1 1 He 's had an accident he 
 isn't well." As though by these few words 
 he had broken faith with his father, he went 
 up to him and touched him on the arm. The 
 man looked up and smiled. 
 
 "I'd sit down and rest, father. You must 
 hav.e been busy. Your bucket is almost 
 full." 
 
 The man did not grasp the meaning of 
 the words but he recognized the tender kind- 
 liness of the voice, and he patted the boy's 
 hand and then sat down as he was told. 
 
 "Ask him the way," whispered Margery. 
 
 * ' How did you come here 9 I didn 't think 
 there was anyone for miles about." 
 
 "We're lost. We raced away this morn-
 
 176 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 ing from the lumber camp. We're camping 
 there for the summer. Can you show us the 
 way back?" 
 
 "I could show you the way back, but I'm 
 afraid you would lose it again. There's not 
 much of a path." 
 
 "How do you know the way? I should 
 think you would get lost. " 
 
 "I'm used to this side of the mountain. 
 I've wandered over it ever since I've been 
 six years old. My father and I will go back 
 with you to the camp." 
 
 "Are we far from there?" 
 
 ' ' Several miles. ' ' He turned to his father. 
 "We are going to walk to the lumber camp. 
 Come, father!" and the father smiled and 
 rose to obey as a well-disciplined child 
 would have done. 
 
 "Do you live near here?" asked Margery 
 as she walked by the side of Thomas. 
 
 He told her then of the little old mill-house 
 at the foot of the hill. Margery remembered 
 having passed it; she remembered also the 
 frail little woman who sat there with her
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 177 
 
 head bowed upon the window-sill that day 
 their gay party had driven past. The child 
 had a wild imagination with a highly sensi- 
 tive temperament and at the mention of the 
 mill-house, she pictured the woman weeping 
 because of this helpless husband, and the boy 
 who would be handicapped all his life be- 
 cause of this trouble. 
 
 The father with his bucket of berries was 
 walking along with Isabelle. She had re- 
 gained her courage and was chattering 
 briskly and asking her companion innumera- 
 ble questions without waiting for his reply. 
 It was with a feeling of relief that Margery 
 heard her talking lightly. Her face showed 
 her thoughts, and Thomas read them cor- 
 rectly. 
 
 " There is no danger," he said. "My fa- 
 ther would not harm anyone. He is always 
 kind and gentle as you see him now." 
 
 "Was he was he always sick?" She 
 knew not what else to call his condition. 
 She could not call him crazy or insane. 
 
 "No; he was hurt. It happened when I 
 
 12
 
 178 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 was just a little boy." It was odd that this 
 retiring, quiet boy would speak to Margery 
 as he did on matters so personal, but the 
 two were alike, and in meeting her he met 
 one who would know and understand as no 
 one else, perhaps. He told her of the old 
 home, the father as he had been and his first 
 time out as conductor. Margery listened 
 and said when he had finished, "It must have 
 been very sad, but of course it all has hap- 
 pened for the best." 
 
 "I don't think so, and my mother does not 
 think so," was the reply. "What could be 
 better than a good home and a father as my 
 father was? He meant to send my sister 
 and me to school. I was to be a doctor and 
 do a great deal of good. What could be bet- 
 ter than that?" 
 
 "I do not know," she said, "but that is be- 
 cause I am ignorant. But my mother says 
 that all things happen for the best for those 
 who would serve the Lord. When you are 
 a man you may see the reason which no one 
 sees now."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 179 
 
 "I wish I could; but I wish most of all 
 that mother would think as you do. Then 
 this would not be so hard for her." 
 
 Their conversation was far beyond their 
 years for Margery's over-discipline had 
 given her a serious view of life, and Thomas 
 had been forced to bear responsibilities 
 which nature meant only for older heads. 
 When the story had been finished, they 
 emerged from the wood to a clearer, broader 
 path. 
 
 "We are not far from camp. We go 
 straight up the mountain now." 
 
 They had not gone far when the searching 
 party from camp met them. 
 
 "Why didn't you come back? Your 
 mother's worried!" said Tom Jones. 
 
 "She isn't worried any more than we 
 are!" retorted Isabelle. "We were lost 
 and if we had not met these people we 
 wouldn't have been here now." She 
 turned toward Thomas and his father; but 
 they were already out of hearing, making 
 their way down the mountain road.
 
 180 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Well, it's over now," said Margery, 
 "and we're all happy again." 
 
 "You won't be happy long," cried Wil- 
 liam, delighted to tease her. "Mother had 
 a letter. Suthern came up with provisions 
 and brought the mail. There was a letter 
 from Uncle Doctor. He's coming to camp 
 some day this week." 
 
 Margery's countenance fell. "Why are 
 you overjoyed, William? You don't like 
 him any better than I do." 
 
 "One thing, if he's horrid, we can stay 
 away from the camp. We'll go in only to 
 eat and to sleep," said Isabelle. 
 
 "Marge, you promised to tell us what 
 made him so cranky," said Ehoda. 
 
 "I'll tell you this evening when we sit 
 around the campfire. Oh, I am hungry! 
 Have you had dinner?" 
 
 "Yes," said William and Thomas to- 
 gether. "But we've saved a lot for you." 
 
 "It will be good and hot. Suthern 's 
 keeping up the fire," were Rhoda's en- 
 couraging words.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE STORY OF UNCLE DOCTOR 
 
 Although the days were exceedingly hot, 
 the nights on the mountain were chilly. 
 During the day, Suthern, the colored man, 
 chopped huge limbs from the trees and the 
 boys dragged them into the clearing, ready 
 for the campfire. When supper was over 
 and twilight fell the fire was started. The 
 flames lighted up the open space and played 
 upon the side of the camp. These were the 
 only lights permitted and when the larger 
 pieces of wood had crumbled into ashes and 
 only a great bed of hot coals remained, the 
 campers drew near and sat or curled up on 
 the rubber blankets beside the dying embers. 
 This was the time to bake potatoes in the 
 fire or to roast corn wrapped in its many 
 folds of husk. It was the time for ghost 
 181
 
 182 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 and fairy tales, and stories of romance and 
 adventure, for the world about seemed more 
 the world of dream and fancy than aught 
 else. The pines stood tall and straight like 
 soldiers on duty. The distance was only a 
 depth of uncertain darkness and even on 
 still nights the breezes crooned through the 
 trees. 
 
 On the evening following the girls' ad- 
 venture the elder members of the party had 
 gathered on one side of the fire, discussing 
 matters which would not have interested the 
 children had they listened. The young peo- 
 ple, with a basket of potatoes by them, sat 
 on the opposite side of the heap of wood, 
 waiting until the flames died down before 
 they put in the potatoes. The boys were 
 sprawled out on their backs, relating tales 
 of the fish and the hunt, while the four girls, 
 forming a little group by themselves, were 
 growing impatient with the flaming fire. 
 
 "While w r e're waiting for the ashes to be 
 ready, " said Isabelle so low that the others
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 183 
 
 could not hear, "tell us about the Uncle Doc- 
 tor." 
 
 ' ' I will, ' ' said Margery. " I '11 start from 
 the very first." 
 
 "Tell it like a story," added Mabel. 
 "Describe the hero and use words like a 
 novel. It will be so romantic." 
 
 Her suggestion was in harmony with the 
 surroundings and the feeling of the little 
 group and Margery accepted it. 
 
 "Uncle Doctor is my " 
 
 "Don't begin that way, Start it, 'Once 
 upon a time,' and make it horrible if you 
 must make up a little bit." 
 
 "Once upon a time there lived a beautiful 
 young girl named Susan Brenhizer. This 
 girl had an elder brother who was hand- 
 some and brilliant. Oh bother! I can't 
 tell it that way. I can't make it a bit like a 
 book-story. Susan Brenhizer ! That doesn 't 
 sound a bit like a novel. I must tell it my 
 own way, Mabel Wade, or not at all." 
 
 "Oh, very well! If you can't, you can't
 
 184 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 and nothing more need be said about it. I 
 suggested that way because I thought it 
 would sound better. But go on as you 
 like." 
 
 "Uncle Doctor is mother's brother. He 
 is much older than she and when their par- 
 ents died he was like her father. She would 
 ask permission of him when she wished to 
 go places, and he always gave her money to 
 spend, just like a father. He was very good 
 to her." 
 
 "I thought you said he was horrible and 
 cranky! It don't sound much like it." 
 
 "I'm coming to that. Mother said that 
 he cared for only a few people but when he 
 cared, he cared a great deal. He went to 
 college and then to a medical school. When 
 he was through with them he practiced sev- 
 eral years but he was never satisfied. He 
 was thinking all the time that he did not 
 know enough. When he could not make 
 everyone well, he worried about it. So one 
 day he said he would go to Germany and 
 stay two years and learn how to be a sur-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 185 
 
 geon. Mother says she helped him get 
 ready and packed his trunk. She wasn't 
 very old only twenty and then she went 
 with him to New York to see him get on 
 the ship. And when they reached the ship, 
 something happened." 
 
 "What?" It was Rhoda who was sacri- 
 legious' enough to ask the question. The 
 others held their breath in anticipation. 
 
 " Crossing the gang-plank before him was 
 a lady and her daughter. The daughter 
 was very beautiful. Mother says she no- 
 ticed at once that she was the handsomest 
 girl on board the ship. Her name was 
 Lelia Mitchell. Her mother was ill and 
 they were going to Germany to visit the 
 salt-springs. My uncle met her and in- six 
 months she was my Aunt Lelia." 
 
 ' * How could she be your aunt ? You were 
 not born then." 
 
 "You know what I mean, Rhoda. She was 
 then ready to be my aunt when I was born ; 
 but I did not come for a great many years 
 afterward. They were in Germany two
 
 186 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 years and when they came home they had 
 a dear little baby boy. They had not told 
 my mother one word about it, and when she 
 went to the door, there was her new sister 
 and a nurse-maid with a dear little baby. 
 That was my Cousin Henry, although they 
 called him Harry, for everyone called my 
 uncle, Henry. It would have been confus- 
 ing to have called them by the same name. 
 
 Cousin Harry was like his father. When 
 he was just a little boy he knew the names 
 of the bones. Mother says he would go into 
 the study and open the case which held the 
 skeleton and ask the names of the bones and 
 so he learned them all. 
 
 Mother says that Uncle Henry was al- 
 ways laughing or smiling. He is a great 
 big man and if he'd smile now he would be 
 very handsome but he won't smile. He's 
 what you'd call glum. But at first he was 
 just lovely. Mother says all his patients 
 loved to have him visit them for he cheered 
 them up, and joked and laughed until they 
 almost forgot that they were ill.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 187 
 
 When my Uncle Henry saw that Cousin 
 Harry was so bright about books and liked 
 to study bones, he said he would make a 
 doctor of him. So Uncle Henry sent him 
 to a school and he and Aunt Lelia saved 
 money so he could go to Germany. 
 
 Cousin Harry was not like many boys 
 whose fathers give them money and never 
 ask how they spend it. Mother says he was 
 a very careful boy and studied hard at his 
 books. He graduated summa cum laude, 
 whatever that means. It is something very 
 fine." 
 
 "I don't see that your uncle had anything 
 to be grumpy about, " interposed Rhoda. 
 "He must have just naturally been cranky 
 and that makes him act so." 
 
 "Will you wait until I finish my story, 
 Khoda Gardner? I cannot tell the end of 
 the story until I finish the beginning and the 
 middle." 
 
 "She must work up to the climax," said 
 Mabel as one who was authority on all 
 things literary. "It would be a queer kind
 
 188 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 of story if you'd tell the secret right at the 
 beginning." 
 
 "He was graduated summa cum laude, as 
 I have said, and then went off: to Germany. 
 He studied very hard while he was there, 
 but it really was not work for him, for he 
 loved books and study. But after he was 
 there a while he made friends with some 
 young men and then he began to drink a lit- 
 tle and then a little more, and after awhile 
 he gambled." Margery's voice grew low as 
 she spoke of these dreadful acts of her 
 cousin. The other girls listened eagerly. 
 
 "And all the while Uncle Henry was send- 
 ing him money and waiting anxiously for 
 the time when Harry would come home and 
 they would work together. But about the 
 time he was expected from Germany, Aunt 
 Lelia died. You can imagine how my 
 Uncle Henry felt, for Auntie was one of the 
 few people he dearly loved. I remember 
 when Auntie died, although I couldn't have 
 been more than five years old. Uncle looked 
 dreadful and mother was almost as bad for
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 189 
 
 she loved Aunt Lelia and she felt very sorry 
 for Uncle Henry. When he spoke to 
 mother about missing Auntie, he said he 
 would not try to live was it not for his son. 
 "But I have a boy to live for," he said to 
 mother. 
 
 "Then Cousin Harry came home and was 
 a physician and had his office with his 
 father. Uncle Henry did not mean to work 
 hard ; he planned just to help Cousin Harry. 
 But Harry was home just a little while 
 when Uncle suspected that he was not act- 
 ing right. He was so heartbroken that he 
 did not know what to do. Then one day a 
 dreadful accident happened and they sent 
 for Cousin Harry. His father telephoned 
 and sent everywhere for him, but couldn't 
 find him, and where do you think he was?" 
 
 "Dead," said Rhoda. 
 
 "In jail," said Mabel, to whom death 
 would not have been a mystery but a key 
 to a difficult solution. 
 
 "Neither! He was in a gambling den, 
 spending all his money! He came home
 
 190 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 while Uncle Henry was searching for him. 
 When Uncle Henry came back, Harry was 
 gone; but Uncle knew he had been there. 
 He had taken out Uncle's check book and 
 written a check with Uncle's name." 
 
 " That's forgery," said the matter-of-fact 
 Bhoda. "He could have been sent to jail 
 for that. I read of a man who was." 
 
 "But Cousin Harry was not sent to jail. 
 He could not be found that day or the next 
 or afterward. Uncle stopped the check and 
 settled it all. He meant to forgive Harry 
 when he came back and have him behave 
 and start over again, but he never came 
 back. 
 
 "But later my Uncle discovered that writ- 
 ing the check was not the only thing Harry 
 did. He had taken every one of Aunt 
 Lelia's jewels, even the ring that Uncle 
 Henry gave her when she said she would 
 marry him. He took them all. Uncle 
 Henry thinks he must have sold them that 
 he might gamble with the money. He did 
 not try to trace them, but he declared then
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 191 
 
 he would never forgive Harry if he came 
 back. He would have forgiven him any- 
 thing but selling what had belonged to his 
 mother." 
 
 "Did he never come back?" 
 
 "Never! Uncle always talks as though 
 he never had had a son. You would think 
 that such a person as Cousin Harry had 
 never lived. But from that time he never 
 went anywhere except to the Sanatorium. 
 He had to go there because there was no one 
 else to perform the dreadful operations. 
 When he comes to our house, he never 
 speaks to us children unless it is to tell us 
 to keep quiet. He never smiles and the 
 only person he ever cares to talk to is my 
 mother. But she will not let him be glum 
 with her. She makes him talk whether he 
 wishes to or not and she asks him questions 
 which he has to answer." 
 
 A little sigh of satisfaction passed over 
 the group. They loved romance, and this 
 came home to them. 
 
 "It doesn't end just right," said Isabelle
 
 192 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 after a moment's thought. "I like stories 
 that end happily. I want them to be happy 
 ever afterward." 
 
 " Perhaps the end has not come yet," said 
 Mabel. "We don't know what may hap- 
 pen. Perhaps Harry is dead perhaps he 
 died sorry for what he done, and perhaps 
 he is alive and will come home some day 
 and then his father and he will be happy." 
 
 Margery shook her head. "It will never 
 end happily. It will not matter whether my 
 Cousin Harry comes back or not, for Uncle 
 Henry will never forgive him." 
 
 "It sounds like a novel. It certainly is 
 very romantic," said Mabel. 
 
 Just then an owl hooted afar off in the 
 wood and the echoes answered him. The 
 sound was weird and uncanny and the girls 
 glanced apprehensively behind them. The 
 mountains dark, sullen and foreboding, sug- 
 gested horrible possibilities. 
 
 "We might have been out in that all 
 night," whispered Isabelle, "if that boy
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 193 
 
 and his father had not showed the road to 
 
 us.' : 
 
 "And we never stopped to thank them! 
 But yet it was scarcely our fault, for they 
 were off down the road before I knew they 
 had left us. But we must thank them." 
 
 "We might go down to the mill-house to- 
 morrow," said Mabel. "I noticed when we 
 passed there what a romantic looking place 
 it was. I should like to meet the people. I 
 shouldn't be afraid although Isabelle says 
 the man is crazy." 
 
 "He isn't crazy!" cried Margery stoutly. 
 "Once he was a very 'bright man and 
 worked and had a beautiful home and then 
 something happened." She proceeded to 
 tell them the story as Thomas had related it 
 to her; but she embellished the facts with 
 coloring from her own imagination until 
 Jim Crissman appeared to them like the 
 prince of a fairy tale. 
 
 The story made Mabel more decided 
 about visiting the mill-house. 
 
 13
 
 194 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "You girls should call," she said. "It's 
 the only proper thing to do, and Rhoda and 
 I shall go with you. We'll walk down 
 early in the morning and ride back with 
 your Uncle Doctor." 
 
 1 i We '11 walk back, ' ' said Margery. * l You 
 do not know Uncle Doctor or you wouldn't 
 have suggested riding back with him." 
 She raised her voice to address her mother. 
 "May we walk to the mill-house to-morrow 
 and may I ask that boy and his sister to 
 visit us here?" 
 
 "Do just as you please," said Mrs. Hous- 
 ton. "But I'm thinking that if you do not 
 fix up the embers and put in your potatoes 
 they will not be roasted before bed-time." 
 
 The girls acted on her suggestion. With 
 sharpened sticks they dug little nests in the 
 hot ashes, then laying the potatoes in, cov- 
 ered them over with ashes.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE NEW GUEST 
 
 The girls from the camp arose early the 
 next morning and went down the lumber 
 road. They found the mill-house looking 
 like a bit from a beautiful painting, for the 
 woodbine had covered the rough walls and 
 twined about the porch. 
 
 Alice was within the kitchen making prep- 
 arations for dinner. Her husband sat be- 
 side her and she talked to him as though he 
 knew and understood. Her love for him 
 had reached out beyond the world of mind 
 and matter and was keeping him in closer 
 touch with those of normal mind than any 
 medical science could have done. 
 
 Thomas and Laura were at work in the 
 garden, tying up tomato stalks and trans- 
 planting the small lettuce plants. Laura's 
 195
 
 196 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 face lighted up with joy when she saw the 
 girls enter the gate. She had never had 
 visitors of her own age indeed visitors of 
 any age were infrequent at the mill-house. 
 She did not wait to greet them, but ran into 
 the kitchen as fast as her feet could carry 
 her, her eyes glowing with pleasure and the 
 flush brought by the unusual experience 
 upon her cheeks. 
 
 "There are girls coming, mother! The 
 girls from the lumber camp are coming into 
 the yard! Ask them to stay, mother," and 
 she was out again before Mrs. Crissman had 
 time to answer. 
 
 Thomas had stood shyly at his work until 
 Ms visitors came to him. 
 
 "You hurried away so quickly yester- 
 day," said Margery, as she came within 
 speaking distance, "that we had no time to 
 thank you. We came down this morning to 
 tell you that we're very grateful." 
 
 "It was nothing. I chanced to be in the 
 woods. I really did nothing."
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 197 
 
 "You walked several miles from your 
 way. Isn 't that something ? ' ' 
 
 Before he could answer, his mother came 
 from the house. She was dressed in her 
 simple frock of dark percale with a bit of 
 white about the throat, and her great mass 
 of hair, in which the white was beginning to 
 show, was coiled about her head as tastefully 
 as though she lived a happy, joyous life in 
 the midst of many friends. Her lips were 
 smiling but her eyes had in them the ex- 
 pression of suffering and the experience of 
 the past seven years had marked her 
 face with peculiar lines. But she smiled 
 brightly as she greeted the girls. 
 
 Margery gave a sigh of relief. She had 
 pictured this Mrs. Crissman as a woman 
 with tearful eyes and sorrowful counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "Come, sit here on the porch, " she said. 
 "You must wish to rest after your long 
 walk." 
 
 The girls accepted the invitation without
 
 198 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 a word. They had listened to Margery's 
 story of the boy and the strange man in the 
 woods and they could not associate the 
 woman with such conditions of life. 
 
 Her husband came and sat beside her on 
 the porch and as she talked with them, he 
 rested his hand upon hers and smiled up at 
 her as a fond child smiles at its mother. 
 
 Laura was shy of strangers, but she was 
 happy that they had come to visit at the mill- 
 house. She hung over the back of her 
 mother's chair and when an opportunity 
 presented itself she whispered audibly, 
 " Mother, ask them to stay all day." 
 
 At length the mother answered her, " Yes, 
 Laura, I shall ask the girls to stay until aft- 
 ernoon." She smiled at her visitors as she 
 added, " Will you stay with us ? We seldom 
 have visitors. Laura and Thomas would be 
 happy to have you." 
 
 "Yes, we shall stay," Margery answered 
 for all. "The wagon will come from town 
 about four o'clock and we can go up on that. 
 My uncle, Doctor Brenhizer, from Dixmont,
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 199 
 
 is going to camp to spend a week or more 
 with us. We" 
 
 "Look! Something is the matter!" ex- 
 claimed Rhoda. 
 
 But Thomas was already by his father's 
 side and Alice turned to grasp both the man's 
 hands within her own. 
 
 "What is it, Jim? What is it?" 
 
 The old hunted expression had come back 
 to his eyes. His lips were trembling in an 
 excess of emotion of some kind ; great beads 
 of sweat stood upon his forehead. Some 
 portion of his brain was making a superhu- 
 man effort to conquer and control that which 
 had been inactive for so long. 
 
 "Jim, what is it? Tell Allie! You're 
 not afraid to tell Allie, Jim ! That 's good ! ' ' 
 She patted his hands and wiped the sweat 
 from his brow. He drew one long breath 
 and threw out his arms, as one would do who 
 was about to free himself from heavy bonds. 
 
 "You know. I said I would tell him. 
 Telluride, Mexico, that's the place. Poor 
 boy! It made me sick at heart to see him.
 
 200 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 One misstep and his life not worth that!" 
 He snapped his finger. His voice had been 
 calm, but now it ran the scale and hung sus- 
 pended on the highest note. "What was it 
 I said I'd do? Tell me! It was it was 
 tell me!" 
 
 "Yes, Jim, I'll tell you after while. Let 
 us not think about it now. Look at the wild 
 flowers that Laura picked yesterday. 
 Laura, bring your flowers here." She took 
 the flowers from the child's hand and held 
 them up to her husband. 
 
 "See how pretty, Jim." 
 
 He took them from her hand and looked 
 at them, and then back to her again with a 
 smile. His strange mood had passed. He 
 was as a child again. 
 
 Thomas was troubled. He feared such 
 spells. He had read and heard of insane 
 people, and he dreaded lest his father's mis- 
 fortune should take such a turn. 
 
 But Alice viewed the matter in a different 
 light. She believed that her husband 's mind 
 was making an effort to regain its old power.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 201 
 
 Hope was renewed within her. Something 
 had touched old memories and had roused 
 them into partial life and perhaps if that 
 something were again and again brought be- 
 fore him, the conscious periods would be- 
 come active and permanent. Jealous of all 
 that was for his good, her mind worked 
 quickly. In an instant she rehearsed each 
 incident of the day which had not been simi- 
 lar to that of many previous days. Never 
 since Jim's illness had she had young girls 
 to her house. It must have been either they 
 or their conversation which had partly re- 
 called him. She would watch and be quite 
 sure. 
 
 When he was quite himself again, the girls 
 arose. Margery's eyes were big with feel- 
 ing. " Perhaps we had better go," she said, 
 turning toward Thomas. "We may have 
 worried your father and we would not like to 
 do that." 
 
 "Perhaps so," he said. "I never knew 
 him to talk like that before." 
 
 At this Alice turned quickly. "Don't go!
 
 202 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 Please don't go!" Her voice had a plead- 
 ing tone in it which could not be resisted. 
 "I wish you to stay." 
 
 "I was afraid we had worried him." 
 
 "If you have, it is the kind of worry that 
 will help." She had regained her usual 
 composure. "It is almost dinner time. 
 You young people amuse each other and I 
 will attend to getting dinner." She left 
 them and went into the house and a few min- 
 utes later the little group on the porch heard 
 her singing gayly. 
 
 At the sound of his mother's voice raised 
 in song Thomas was relieved. Perhaps, 
 after all, this sudden change in his father 
 meant good instead of otherwise. His bur- 
 den of care fell from his shoulders. 
 
 "Come, let us show you our garden," he 
 said. "Laura and I did all the planting. 
 Father spaded for us. ' ' 
 
 In an instant the girls were from the 
 porch and hurrying down the garden walk. 
 They had been born and bred in the city and 
 gardens were new to them. They examined
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 203 
 
 each separate plant, exclaimed over the size 
 of onions and lettuce and grew eloquent 
 upon the silken tassels of the corn. When 
 each plant had been looked over and criti- 
 cized, Rhoda sat down under the shade of the 
 old forest chestnut tree which stood at the 
 end of the yard. 
 
 "I did not know how tired I was," she 
 said. "Let us sit here and talk until dinner 
 time. If we don't rest, we'll be too tired to 
 ride home." 
 
 They seated themselves about her. Mar- 
 gery was the only quiet one among them. 
 
 Rhoda rallied her: "A penny for your 
 thoughts, Marge!" 
 
 "Perhaps they are not worth that much. 
 I'm just a little worried. I'm afraid I said 
 something that excited Mr. Crissman. The 
 only thing I said was that Uncle Doctor was 
 coming." 
 
 "It wasn't what you said," said Thomas. 
 "He may not have heard a word. He may 
 have been thinking very hard and part of 
 something came back to him."
 
 204 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Have you always lived at the mill- 
 house?'* asked Rhoda. She was not of an 
 emotional temperament and did not relish 
 a tale of woe or sentiment, so she tried to 
 stem both by turning the conversation by her 
 question. 
 
 "No, not always," replied Thomas, not 
 caring to go into details concerning their for- 
 mer home, for he was conservative by nature. 
 But Laura was different. Her face lighted 
 up and she began at once the story of the 
 former home in town. She could not re- 
 member having lived there and she had seen 
 it but once since they had moved from it, but 
 her imagination stood her in good need. She 
 told the story as it was and yet wove about 
 it a golden haze of fancy and uncertainty. 
 Her listeners were spellbound, they were 
 having fairy tale and romance at first hand, 
 and they revelled in it. 
 
 Laura did not forget the story of the little 
 tin box. Under the magic of her imagina- 
 tion it became a thing of great importance 
 and as worthy of search as the Holy Grail.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 205 
 
 When she finished, the silence was un- 
 broken for several seconds. Then Margery 
 spoke seriously and in great good faith, for 
 she yet believed in charms and fairyland. 
 " While you were talking, I found a four- 
 leaved clover. You know what that means ? ' ' 
 
 Laura shook her head in negation. "No, 
 I don't" 
 
 "It's good luck. Whenever you pick a 
 four-leaved clover, you must put it in the 
 heel of your left shoe, and make a wish, and 
 before the moon changes, your wish will 
 come true." 
 
 "Keally?" Laura's eyes grew big and 
 bright. "I wish I'd known that before. 
 I've often seen them." 
 
 " It 's true. There 's a song about the four 
 leaves," Rhoda declared. "It goes some- 
 thing like this : 
 
 "One is for faith, 
 
 And one is for hope, 
 
 And one is for love, I know. 
 
 Then God put the fourth one in for luck, 
 
 So search where the four leaves grow."
 
 206 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "IVe saved this for you, Laura," said 
 Margery earnestly. "Pick it, and wish that 
 your father could be cured. It will come 
 true." 
 
 "I don't believe it!" said Thomas. 
 "Don't do it, Laura. You will only be dis- 
 appointed. Then you'll feel worse than 
 ever. The doctors have said time and time 
 again that nothing could help him." 
 
 ' ' It will not hurt to try, ' ' said Laura. ' ' I 
 shall not be disappointed if it does not come 
 true. Doctors do not always know things. 
 Sometimes things happen through luck," 
 and she tucked the clover in her shoe and 
 made the wish. ' ' Now we '11 see who is right, 
 Thomas. It won't be long until there's a 
 new moon." 
 
 At this point the conversation was inter- 
 rupted by the summons to dinner. When 
 the meal was finished, Alice took her hus- 
 band by the hand and went out with the chil- 
 dren to the shade of the forest trees. She 
 encouraged Margery to talk of matters of 
 the home and the camp, and all the while she
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 207 
 
 watched her husband to see if he heard or 
 heeded what was said. But he sat as he 
 ever did, smiling upon them when his glance 
 met theirs or when Alice spoke directly to 
 him. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when they 
 heard the whistle of the train in the distance. 
 
 "That means we must soon start home," 
 said Rhoda. 
 
 ' l Not for some time. They must drive for 
 several miles from the station here," said 
 Mrs. Crissman. "We can stop the wagon 
 as they pass the door." 
 
 "Mother gave me permission to ask 
 Thomas and Laura to the camp, ' ' said Mar- 
 gery. "May they come?" She hesitated 
 but a second and added, "and bring their 
 father with them ? ' ' 
 
 She was surprised with what quickness 
 Mrs. Crissman accepted the invitation. She 
 could not read the elder woman's mind and 
 know the hope that their presence had fos- 
 tered in her. 
 
 "There are the wheels!" cried Rhoda,
 
 208 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 springing up. "Listen to them creaking! 
 Suthern must have found an old ice-wagon 
 to drive. Did you ever hear such a noise 1" 
 
 She moved toward the gate. The others 
 followed. As Suthern turned the curve they 
 signalled him to stop. The one passenger in 
 the light wagon was a man far past middle 
 age, portly of figure, and stern of face. He 
 had planted his cane firmly upon the floor 
 of the wagon, and was leaning heavily upon 
 it. He gave a sudden start when Suthern 
 stopped the horses, looked quickly about him 
 to see the reason for this, saw the children, 
 and without a word of greeting, resumed his 
 position. 
 
 The people of the mill-house came close to 
 the wagon, and the girls clambered in as 
 well as they could without assistance, for 
 Suthern was needed at the reins. Amid the 
 chatter and laughter, the good-byes, and 
 s promises of a return visit, the father leaned 
 forward suddenly, and grasping Doctor 
 Brenhizer by the arm, tried to speak. His
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 209 
 
 face twitched; his mind made a desperate 
 struggle to emerge from the darkness which 
 surrounded it. At last he jerked out a few 
 disconnected, meaningless words. 
 
 "Old bones the case old bones. 'You 
 know! What must I tell you? Bones 
 bones " 
 
 " Drive on, Suthern," said Dr. Brenhizer, 
 pushing the man 's hand from his arm. Then 
 he added, as though to himself, "The man 
 is crazy. Shouldn't be let loose. He'll 
 harm someone." 
 
 The drive up the mountain was an unusu- 
 ally quiet one. The girls sat flat on the bot- 
 tom of the spring wagon and were jolted 
 about from side to side whenever the wheels 
 struck a stone. Under ordinary circumstan- 
 ces they would have expressed themselves 
 audibly. But now with Uncle Doctor before 
 them, they kept silent, expressing their dis- 
 pleasure with grimaces and muscular con- 
 tortions. 
 
 Margery alone appeared unconscious of 
 
 14
 
 210 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 jolts and bumps. A new idea had come to 
 her, and her mind was engrossed in forming 
 plans in which she meant her grim uncle to 
 take an active part.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MARGERY WAGES WAR WITH UNCLE DOCTOR 
 
 The children of the camp were impressed 
 by the presence of the grim, silent man, who 
 had no word for anyone. When they 
 laughed heartily, or carried on a discussion, 
 all speaking at once, and with the full power 
 of their lungs, he gave them a look so severe 
 that they became still as mice, and scampered 
 away beyond his ken. 
 
 But for the greater part of the day, he 
 was absorbed in his own work, and paid at- 
 tention to nothing else. But even this had 
 the effect of suppressing the joyous spirits 
 of the young people, to whom Uncle Doctor's 
 work was gruesome. Each evening at dusk 
 he walked a short distance into the woods, 
 where he set traps for any animal which 
 could be caught. The first morning he came 
 211
 
 212 . SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 in with several jack-rabbits and one tremb- 
 ling chipmunk. These he penned up and fed 
 on a special diet for several days. So far 
 the children looked on and enjoyed his 
 science. But when he fed poison to the big- 
 gest rabbit and stood by watching it suffer, 
 before he administered an antidote, they 
 were ready for revolution. It was nothing 
 to them that he counted the experiment a 
 great success, and took down notes in his 
 tablet which later would add to the skill of 
 the medical fraternity. But it was even 
 worse when he took the chipmunk, his case 
 of knives, and bottles of ether far into the 
 woods and worked alone. He brought the 
 poor little animal back with its head ban- 
 daged as carefully as though it were a per- 
 son. Although he made it a bed of soft 
 cotton, and kept the bandages moist with 
 medicine, and fed it several times a day with 
 ground nuts, and bread moistened in milk, 
 the children could not forgive him. They 
 gave him and his experiments a wide berth.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 213 
 
 Whole days passed without their being in 
 his presence. Gradually it became the cus- 
 tom that the younger people sat at the table 
 alone for their meals. Mrs. Houston waited 
 for Uncle Doctor and ate with him. She 
 did not mind his taciturn, gloomy words and 
 talked to him in her sharp, keen way and 
 forced him to reply to her. His sister knew 
 and appreciated him as no one else could do 
 and she was like him, in that she loved few 
 people, but loved them intensely. She knew 
 what had gone from his life with both wife 
 and son. It made it harder for him that he 
 could speak of them to no one, not even his 
 sister. He kept the sorrow and shame 
 walled up in his own heart and gave himself 
 to scientific work as though that was all life 
 could hold for him. 
 
 Sometimes when he worked alone, experi- 
 menting with operations upon the different 
 animals, the grim, hard look left his face, 
 and he became only a broken-hearted, brok- 
 en-spirited man. No one seeing him then
 
 214 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 could have feared him. Only pity could 
 have filled the heart at the sight of this 
 crushed, subdued old man. 
 
 Thomas and Laura, with their father, vis- 
 ited the camp the day following that on 
 which the girls had been guests at the mill- 
 house. Alice had sent them forth with fear 
 and hope struggling for supremacy. Yet 
 nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. 
 Dr. Brenhizer had not been near the camp, 
 being interested in his work in the depth of 
 the woods. 
 
 Several days passed before Alice again 
 suggested to Thomas that the three should 
 walk up to the lumber camp. Seven years 
 with their innumerable disappointments had 
 not robbed her of hope. She watched the 
 three set forth, Laura dancing along as airy 
 and care-free as a butterfly, Thomas follow- 
 ing more slowly, and the father, more of a 
 child than either of his children, pausing 
 along the road to pluck flowers. 
 
 The hope in her heart made her young 
 again. She went back to her sewing, and
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME . 215 
 
 sang as she worked. She had long since 
 given up all hope of finding the hidden 
 money. It had always been a minor trouble 
 to her. With Jim well and as he had been 
 before, nothing else could matter. She felt 
 that if he would once more know her and call 
 her Allie in his old, tender, affectionate way, 
 she would gladly toil and slave to the end 
 of life. Unconsciously her voice took up 
 the words of an old song which she had sung 
 in school, years before. 
 
 "Every dark night has a morning, 
 
 Ho ho! Ho ho! 
 Every dark cloud has a silver lining 
 
 We know ! We know ! 
 And the day is brighter when it comes 
 After a night with no stars shining, 
 And trustful hearts will turn their clouds 
 Inside out to see the lining." 
 
 She worked all morning steadily without 
 thought of dinner or a moment to rest. She 
 might have gone on all day had not the
 
 218 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 splashes of rain upon the porch roof startled 
 her from her day dreams. 
 
 "Raining! I must see about the peeps,' 7 
 she said, and went out to put the newly- 
 hatched chickens under cover. 
 
 All morning the young people were hav- 
 ing a glorious time at camp. They had 
 staked out what they called Indian reserva- 
 tions and, dividing themselves into two tribes 
 and painting their faces with the juice of 
 berries and leaves, had carried on Indian 
 warfare. 
 
 Jim Crissman sat on the great stone and 
 watched them. It was impossible to know 
 if he grasped the idea of their play, but he 
 was contented there and smiled whenever his 
 glance met one of theirs. 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I knew it 
 would rain. I felt a great drop. Let us run 
 for the cabin." 
 
 The rain was pattering like hail about 
 them. Seizing his father by the hand, 
 Thomas ran with the others to the camp. 
 
 "Your mother has a nervous headache and
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 217 
 
 you're not to disturb her," said Suthern. 
 ''She's lying down in the lobby, and is not 
 to be called until dinner time." 
 
 "Then we'll sit out under the canvas porch 
 and tell stories," said Margery, leading the 
 way. "It will be better fun, anyhow. I 
 love to watch the rain if it doesn't light- 
 ning." 
 
 "Let's have riddles and stories," said Is- 
 abelle, seating herself on the half log which 
 served for stools. 
 
 ' ' Let 's tell love stories. The kind you read 
 in novels. They are always so romantic," 
 said Mabel. 
 
 At this Rhoda sniffed the air with disdain. 
 "Nampy, pampy stories like that? They 
 weary me ! Let 's tell ghost stories or Indian 
 stories." 
 
 Tom Jones stretched himself face upward 
 on the rocky earth. "That suits me, Rhoda. 
 Someone give us a good Indian story." 
 
 "Suppose you start one yourself," said 
 William. 
 
 "All right. I got this from a history of
 
 218 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 father's. Of course, I can't tell it as it was 
 there. It was too short and dry. I'll em- 
 bellish it a little. " 
 
 He began the story which he garnished 
 with midnight raids and much scalping. His 
 hero fairly swam in gore. Isabelle and 
 Mabel shuddered; Rhoda worked up a good 
 show of interest as she always did in what- 
 ever pleased the boys ; but Margery heard no 
 word of what was being said, for her mind 
 was busy with matters of moment. 
 
 The rain was pelting down. Uncle Doc- 
 tor had been driven in from the woods. He 
 was drenched to the skin, and entered the 
 camp to change his clothes. He had come in 
 from over the higher point of the mountain 
 and entered the camp by way of the kitchen, 
 without the children seeing him. Each had 
 taken their turn in story-telling and Mabel 
 finished with a particularly doleful tale. 
 
 "That was too bad," said Isabelle when 
 Mabel concluded. "I'm sorry it did not 
 turn out better. I like my stories to end
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 219 
 
 so that everyone lives happily ever after- 
 ward. " 
 
 "But anyway it all happens for the best," 
 said Margery, sagely. "Whatever happens, 
 happens for the best for those who try to 
 live right." 
 
 "Nonsense! Nonsense!" exclaimed a gruff 
 voice back of her. i l That 's the biggest false- 
 hood that history has ever handed down to 
 posterity. ' ' 
 
 They started suddenly at the sound of 
 Doctor Brenhizer's voice. Margery's heart 
 was quaking, but she had enough of her 
 mother's spirit in her not to permit this 
 attack upon her beliefs. She got upon her 
 feet and faced squarely about that she 
 might look her Uncle Doctor in the eye. 
 "It's not a falsehood!" she said stoutly. 
 "It is true. My mother says it is true and 
 she knows." 
 
 "Cant and bigotry!" was his response as 
 he came from the doorway out under the 
 canvas roof.
 
 220 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 At this, Jim Crissman arose and ap- 
 proached the doctor. The muscles of his 
 face were working like a man in convul- 
 sions. He laid his hand upon the doctor's 
 arm. "Number Ten was just passing when 
 he told me about the bones." He laughed 
 gleefully. There was something horrible in 
 the mirthless sound. "It's all come back. 
 I couldn't remember before. The box of 
 bones. You know where to find the box of 
 bones? Don't you? Open up the old fel- 
 low's bony head. I knew you would know 
 if I'd tell you. I'm glad I didn't forget. 
 I did forget for awhile.". 
 
 Dr. Brenhizer had stood silent while this 
 was going on. When Jim had finished, the 
 doctor pushed his hand away, and turning 
 to Thomas, said, "You'd better take your 
 father home. If he acts in this way, it isn't 
 safe to have him about." 
 
 "He never acted this way before," cried 
 Laura. "It's only when he sees you that 
 he acts so. But you'd make anyone nerv-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 221 
 
 ous just to look at you. 19 She glared at him 
 like a little fury. 
 
 "Tut tut, child! Don't show the same 
 traits! This giving up to fits of anger 
 might effect your mind later." 
 
 Thomas had said no word, but, arising, 
 had taken his father's hand and moved 
 down the old camp road toward home. 
 Laura, after she had given expression to her 
 feelings, of necessity followed. 
 
 Tom and William were moved by the 
 scene, but, rather than make a show of their 
 emotion, slipped off through the woods, 
 heedless of the dripping boughs of the trees. 
 
 Margery was both angry and touched. 
 She was not afraid of Uncle Doctor now. 
 She had answered him sharply and he had 
 not stricken her from the face of the earth ; 
 therefore she was ready to take the same 
 risks again. 
 
 "The man's crazy," said Doctor Bren- 
 hizer. "He should not be allowed to roam 
 about. He will harm someone."
 
 222 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "He isn't crazy!" retorted Margery. 
 "He's always quiet and happy until he sees 
 you. You excite him. That's why he acts 
 
 so.' 
 
 "Just so, my little niece," he replied. 
 "What you say is all the more proof of his 
 being unsafe. If he takes queer notions 
 without reason about one stranger, the same 
 thing may occur again. He will do some- 
 one harm. I shall make it my business the 
 next time I go into town to report him to 
 the authorities as a dangerous person." 
 
 "Don't you dare to do it!" she cried. 
 "You make everyone unhappy about you, 
 just because you are unhappy yourself. 
 You think that poor man is contented, and 
 you'd make him and his children misera- 
 ble." She looked straight into his eyes 
 without flinching. She was not afraid of 
 him or anyone and she would defend her 
 friends against the world. 
 
 Doctor Brenhizer looked at her grimly 
 until she had quite finished her angry 
 speech. Then he said lightly, "Tut, tut, it's
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 223 
 
 not seemly for a little girl like you to speak 
 so to her elders. Your mother was not 
 brought up that way," and walked on into 
 the camp, while Margery, yet angry and de- 
 fiant, retorted, "It would have been better if 
 she had!" 
 
 The little storm cleared and at the table 
 the children were as happy and light of 
 heart as before. Dr. Brenhizer and Mrs. 
 Houston did not appear until the meal was 
 finished and the children from the room. 
 
 Margery knew that her mother and Uncle 
 Doctor had their heart-to-heart talks over 
 the tea-cups. She was disquieted, fearing 
 that her mother might be persuaded to for- 
 bid further visits between the mill-house 
 and the camp, for she knew how her mother 
 loved and respected Uncle Doctor. 
 
 Determined that her mother should at 
 least hear the truth of the Crissman family, 
 she left her young friends and joined her 
 mother and uncle at the table. 
 
 They were discussing Jim Crissman 's 
 condition when she slipped in and sat down
 
 224 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 on the bench beside her mother. Neither 
 of the elder people paid any attention to 
 her, and she sat without comment until her 
 uncle had finished. The whole gist of the 
 story was that Jim Crissman was a danger- 
 ous character to have at large. Mrs. Hous- 
 ton tacitly agreed with him. 
 
 "I did not realize his condition or I surely 
 would not have allowed the children to ask 
 him to come here, " she said. 
 
 At this point Margery took part in the 
 conversation, explaining in terms not com- 
 plimentary to the doctor that it was Uncle 
 Doctor alone who caused him to be so er- 
 ratic, and that he was quiet and lovely at 
 other times. 
 
 To this Doctor Brenhizer replied as be- 
 fore, "Tut, tut, child, you don't know what 
 you are talking about ! Leave such matters 
 to older heads than yours." 
 
 "I do know what I am talking about! I 
 think you would sit quiet, too, if you were 
 hit on the head with a stone. I think you 
 would try to help him instead of planning
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 225 
 
 to make his children and his poor wife un- 
 happy." 
 
 "Margery, Margery, you are speaking too 
 hastily ! Keep quiet, " said her mother. 
 
 "What does the child mean?" asked Doc- 
 tor Brenhizer, turning to his sister. 
 
 "Nothing at all, as far as I know. Some 
 of Mabel Wade's romantic ideas, I fancy." 
 
 "No, mother, really. Mabel has nothing 
 to do with it. I heard the story first. Let 
 me tell it to you and Uncle Doctor just as 
 Thomas told it to me." She leaned eagerly 
 forward; her eyes grew bright and her 
 cheeks flushed. She grew quite eloquent in 
 her girlish way, as she told the story of Jim 
 Crissman's promotion, the report about the 
 bank, the hidden money, and his first trip 
 out. 
 
 This was news to Mrs. Houston. As she 
 listened, she glanced from time to time at 
 her brother as though to read what he 
 thought of this story; but Doctor Brenhi- 
 zer 's face was grim and it was impossible 
 to tell whether he were really listening.
 
 226 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Now, Uncle Doctor," she exclaimed as 
 the story of Jim Crissman was finished, 
 "you will cure him while you are here, won't 
 you ? I meant to ask you that first day you 
 
 came.' 
 
 He arose from the table, stepping over the 
 long bench which served the purpose of 
 chairs. "Tut tut, I'd have my hands full 
 of such cases if I'd undertake to help every 
 one which is brought to my notice." He 
 took up his instrument case, and had started 
 out for the woods before she had fully re- 
 covered from her surprise.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 DIFFICULT HOURS FOR ALL 
 
 At the mill-house Alice was worried and 
 anxious, questioning herself if she had done 
 the best for her afflicted husband in sending 
 him among strangers. The only comfort 
 she permitted herself was found in the 
 thought that she had done what she thought 
 was best. She had had a happy day until 
 she saw the children and their father com- 
 ing home, but at the first sight of them she 
 knew that all was not as usual. Laura was 
 nervous and excited ; Thomas was silent and 
 distressed; while the father, walking be- 
 tween them, was talking rapidly. His 
 cheeks were flushed and his eyes frenzied. 
 
 Alice walked down to the gate to meet 
 them. Thomas lifted his sorrowful, plead- 
 ing eyes to hers, but gave no explanation. 
 227
 
 228 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 He had decided that he would not tell his 
 mother about Doctor Brenhizer's saying 
 that his father was dangerous, and should 
 be shut up. On the way home from camp, 
 he pledged Laura to promise not to worry 
 her mother with that. 
 
 Alice went up to her husband, and laying 
 her hand upon his, said in her gentle, affec- 
 tionate manner; "I'm glad you're home, 
 Jim. Did you have a lovely day in the 
 woods ?" 
 
 He gave no answering, confiding smile to 
 her words, but he pushed her hand away 
 and cried out, "Why don't you tell me what 
 it was I was to tell him ? You know I was 
 to tell him and I cannot remember." 
 
 "Yes, Jim. I'll tell you bye-and-bye 
 after we eat supper. It is quite ready for 
 you. I knew you and the children would 
 be hungry." They had come to the door of 
 the house and paused, waiting for him to 
 enter. But instead he sat down in the door- 
 way, and, burying his face in his hands, 
 muttered and talked to himself about trying
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 229 
 
 to tell what it was and no one would help 
 him. The children were trembling with 
 fear, but their mother was as calm and se- 
 rene as ever. She smiled at them as plac- 
 idly as had been her habit. "Come, 
 children! You must be tired and hungry. 
 Eat your supper and slip off to bed." 
 
 Then to give them confidence and to show 
 that she had no fear in her heart, she sat 
 at the table with them and forced herself 
 to eat, although the food stuck in her throat, 
 and her heart was heavy within her. 
 
 When they had finished, she gathered up 
 the dishes, preparatory to washing them. 
 " While mother is doing this work, you had 
 better get a basin of water, Thomas. You 
 and Laura must wash your feet before you 
 go to bed." 
 
 "Must I, mother? I'm so tired." 
 
 She looked down at the dusty, mud- 
 stained feet and legs, which unshod had 
 traveled the mountains all day. She 
 laughed gayly as she answered, "Would you 
 go to bed with such dirty legs, Thomas?"
 
 230 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 He got up and went out to the well to 
 draw the water. Laura followed him and 
 they sat on the well-curb and splashed the 
 water about, and forgot for a time their 
 worry and fear, just as the mother knew 
 they would. 
 
 When she had seen them safe in bed, she 
 came out to the door and sat beside her 
 husband. She had the little scrap of pa- 
 per which she had taken from his hand that 
 day of the accident ; but she kept it from his 
 view, waiting a favorable opportunity to 
 bring it to his notice. He had been quiet 
 for some minutes, but at her appearance he 
 began the broken talk about not knowing 
 and her not helping him to remember. 
 
 "Why don't you tell me tell me what I 
 was to say to him?" 
 
 "Was it this, Jim Telluride, Mexico" 
 She laid the crumpled paper before him. 
 
 "That's it that's it!" he cried excitedly. 
 "Now I'll tell him! Now I'll tell him!" 
 He paused and looked vacantly about him. 
 "What was it I was to tell him? Oh, what
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 231 
 
 was it? What was it*?" He buried Ms 
 face in his hands, talking meanwhile and 
 asking what it was he should tell. 
 
 Alice sat quiet and seemingly unmoved, 
 while she watched and listened. She could 
 bear seeing him suffer more than this; she 
 would willingly go through all this trouble 
 again if she could arouse his benumbed 
 brain into activity, and see him as he had 
 been before. 
 
 The night had come. They sat in the 
 darkness while he. struggled to bring his 
 mind under control. Several hours passed 
 in this way when his tears fell upon the hand 
 she had reached forth to caress him. 
 
 "What is it, Jim? Tell Allie about it." 
 
 "I don't know what it was. I can't tell 
 anyone," and he sobbed over his trouble as 
 a child would have done. 
 
 "Don't try to think about it, Jim. It 
 really does not matter if you tell him or not. 
 Perhaps he knows." 
 
 "Can't you tell what it was?" 
 
 "No; I can't, Jim. Allie is very sorry
 
 232 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 but she cannot help you. Come to bed and 
 rest. To-morrow may make it right." 
 
 She arose and passed into the house, and 
 he obediently followed. He fell asleep soon 
 after going to bed, but tossed about and 
 talked. She sat by his side until he grew 
 quiet, and only when she thought that he 
 was sleeping soundly, she allowed herself to 
 rest. 
 
 She had scarcely fallen asleep when she 
 awoke with a start. Jim was standing in 
 the middle of the room with a lighted lamp 
 in his hand. 
 
 "What is it, Jim?" she asked, making an 
 effort to keep both surprise and worry from 
 her voice, lest it excite him. His manner 
 and voice were rational as he answered her, 
 "I'm looking for that red tin box." 
 
 She gave a start of surprise. For one 
 instant she believed that his memory had 
 returned, and that he was only confused by 
 his new surroundings. 
 
 "A red tin box. It had some diamonds 
 in it. I cannot think where I put it. I
 
 Hey, there. Orissman, you're called for Sixty-five 
 on time!" (Sec page 273.)
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 233 
 
 think I know where. It was in the empty 
 skull of a box of bones. That's where it is. 
 Now I must look for the bones." 
 
 "I will help you, Jim. But it is too dark 
 now to see well. Let us wait until morn- 
 ing. Then we'll look. Go back to bed and 
 sleep until to-morrow." 
 
 He looked at her intently. "Why, I 
 didn't know who you were. But I know 
 you now." 
 
 Her heart stopped beating. For a mo- 
 ment she held her breath. If he could call 
 her Allie but once, she believed she could 
 be happy. 
 
 "Who am I, Jim?" she asked softly. 
 
 "You ? Why, you are the operator at the 
 O. K. office. I know that. Didn't you just 
 hand me my orders'? That's Number Ten 
 now turning the curve. She's running late. 
 Kimball's firing and we'll pull out of here 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 "Go to bed, Jim, and sleep," she said, 
 pushing him toward the bed. He obeyed 
 her now for his old mood was upon him.
 
 234 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 She put out the light and sat by him all 
 night, lest he should slip from the house 
 without her knowing where he had gone. 
 
 
 The spirit of disturbance seemed to be 
 in the air that day and night. Up at the 
 camp on the mountain, Margery Houston 
 was acting as never before. She had quar- 
 reled with her guests until they had gone off 
 and sat by themselves ; she had fussed with 
 William until blows almost passed between 
 them, and when her mother had repri- 
 manded her, she had replied curtly. They 
 looked in surprise at the gentle, sweet-tem- 
 pered Margery. 
 
 "Go into the lobby, Margery," said Mrs. 
 Houston. "Stay there by yourself until 
 you can be with the others without quarrel- 
 ing." 
 
 Downcast and miserable, Margery obeyed. 
 Entering the lobby, she threw herself face 
 downward across her cot and sobbed her 
 anger away. 
 
 A few minutes later, Mrs. Houston
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 235 
 
 slipped in and knelt by Margery's side. 
 "Tell mother aU about it," she said. "What 
 has happened?" 
 
 "It's all Uncle Doctor," she replied. "I 
 always want to quarrel when he's about 
 but I did think he would be noble and gen- 
 erous if he was glum and silent. From 
 the first day when I met the Crissmans, I 
 felt sure that Uncle Doctor would make 
 their father well. He could, if he wanted 
 to, but he's selfish and cruel." 
 
 "Don't think about that, Margery. Per- 
 haps Uncle Doctor is not so unkind as you 
 'think. He may know that nothing can help 
 that poor man. There are some cases which 
 no doctor, however skilled he is, can help." 
 
 "But he could try." 
 
 "But he may know that any attempt 
 would be useless. It would be cruel to make 
 the poor man suffer when no good can pos- 
 sibly come of it. You are only a little girl 
 yet, Margery, and do not always see mat- 
 ters in the right light. Leave such matters 
 to older and wiser heads."
 
 236 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "But I did so want to help them!" 
 
 "I know you did, dear. Your wish and 
 effort shows a loving little heart; but for 
 this time believe that Uncle Doctor knows 
 best. You have done what you could in 
 telling him about this poor, afflicted man. 
 Don't worry longer about it. Come out and 
 sit by the campfire. Suthern has roasting 
 ear.s in the husks. "We'll put them in the 
 coals to-night." 
 
 "Ill come in a few minutes, mother, after 
 I bathe my eyes. I do not wish the girls 
 to know that I was crying." 
 
 "Very well, Margery." Mrs. Houston 
 left the lobby and joined the circle of older 
 people about the campfire. A few minutes 
 later Margery came out and buried her 
 troubles in the delight of making hot beds of 
 ashes for the corn roasting. 
 
 Uncle Doctor was the only one of the 
 campers who was not beside the fire as the 
 stories and laughter passed gayly from one 
 to the other. He had left the supper table 
 and gone into the woods, as was his habit.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 237 
 
 But his trap and snares did not usually keep 
 him long. He had always returned before 
 night had settled. But this evening he was 
 troubled. He wished to be alone with his 
 thoughts, so on his return he stopped within 
 a short distance of camp, and seated him- 
 self on the rocky ledge which overhung the 
 brow of the mountain. He could catch the 
 reflection of the campfire but no sound of 
 life from the cleared space below came to 
 him. The darkness and silence fitted in 
 with his thoughts, which were gloomy and 
 depressed. His life had not been a festive 
 one. There had been years of hard work 
 and self-denial to fit himself for his profes- 
 sion, yet he had been both contented and 
 happy at that period. The years when his 
 wife and boy were with him were like bands 
 of gold binding his earlier and later life. 
 The wife was gone. Yet he could have 
 borne her loss without letting it embitter his 
 life, for he had been with her to the last and 
 knew that she was content to go. But his 
 boy ! What did he know of him ? Perhaps
 
 238 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 he was leading a life of crime, putting into 
 the world all the evil which his magnificent 
 mind could conceive ; or it might be that he 
 lay in an unmarked grave in the potters' 
 field, or was a wanderer upon the face of the 
 earth. There was gayety and happiness in 
 the little camp below him. How could he 
 take part in it, when somewhere his own son 
 might be freezing, starving or suffering ? 
 
 His thoughts turned to the poor afflicted 
 creature who had visited camp that after- 
 noon. It was not pity so much as science 
 which caused his thoughts to turn toward 
 him. If what Margery had told him about 
 the man's being hit by a stone were true, the 
 case was quite within his power to reach. 
 He had performed similar operations scores 
 of times and could again. But why should 
 he? This was the question which came to 
 him. Why should he go to the trouble to 
 help this man$ No one had turned aside 
 from his work or his pleasure to lay a re- 
 straining hand upon his son or to say a word 
 of warning to him. He had come to the
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 239 
 
 mountain for his own pleasure and rest and 
 did not wish to have either intruded upon. 
 He would not bother with this man Criss- 
 man who lived in the mill-house, he made up 
 his mind to that. 
 
 He refilled his pipe and, throwing himself 
 on his back on the ledge, looked up into the 
 vault of blue above him. Infinite worlds 
 universe after universe of souls revolving 
 millions of miles above him who knew? 
 Science had never reached to the worlds 
 beyond. Man had stopped with that which 
 was just beneath his hand. His knowledge 
 stopped within narrow limits. All he could 
 say of the universe which revolved above 
 him was that he did not know. 
 
 But one thing the learned Doctor Bren- 
 hizer did know this night as he lay on the 
 ledge and looked heavenward. He knew 
 that he was infinitely small and insignificant 
 a mere atom in the world about him and 
 the thought did not satisfy him. 
 
 He aroused himself. He must get into 
 camp or his sister would worry about him.
 
 240 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 He got up and stretched himself, for his 
 limbs had grown numb by contact with the 
 stone. He made his way down the moun- 
 tainside to the camp. It was an easy 
 matter, for the fire flared like a torch against 
 the sky. He came into the clearing, passed 
 without a word those seated there and went 
 directly to his cot and slept as though the 
 world and its cares touched him not. He 
 awoke at the first glimmer of daylight and 
 at once aroused Suthern, who slept in a ham- 
 mock swung under the trees. 
 
 "Make me a cup of strong coffee and lay 
 out a lunch while I shave, but don't waken 
 the others. " 
 
 When he reappeared, freshly shaved and 
 dressed, his coffee and eggs and bacon were 
 ready. "When he had finished his breakfast, 
 he turned to Suthern. "If Mrs. Houston 
 asks for me, tell her IVe been fed and have 
 gone down the mountain on a little matter 
 of business, " and taking up his great leather 
 case fitted with his delicate instruments, he
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 241 
 
 went down the old lumber road to the foot 
 of the hiU. 
 
 Alice was busied with her breakfast the 
 children were yet sleeping when she saw the 
 doctor come briskly along the road. To her 
 surprise, he entered her gate and came up 
 the garden walk. She trembled with 
 strange forebodings. Her limbs would have 
 refused to move had she not forced them to 
 it. She went to the door to meet him, for if 
 his errand were unpleasant, she did not wish 
 the children to overhear what he might say. 
 
 In his brusque, grim way, he brushed past 
 her into the house. "Sit down, woman. 
 I've come to talk to you about your husband. 
 Sit down. " 
 
 He pushed a rocking chair toward her and 
 Alice dropped in it, all her power of resist- 
 ance gone from her.
 
 RECALLED 
 
 Thomas and Laura slept until late. By 
 that time the conference between the doctor 
 and the mother was finished. But Thomas 
 saw Doctor Brenhizer leaving the house and 
 go- toward town, and his little heart was 
 troubled. He believed that the doctor was 
 doing what he had threatened to do about 
 having the father shut up. He turned away 
 from the upper window and hurriedly 
 finished his dressing. He did not tell his 
 fears to Laura, for he already possessed the 
 manly instinct of saving and protecting her 
 because she was weaker and younger. 
 
 His father was sleeping soundly. He 
 
 went downstairs, expecting to find his 
 
 mother distressed by the doctor's visit, but 
 
 on the contrary she was busy with her work 
 
 243
 
 244 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 with an eager, expectant air that : he had 
 never seen before. She caught him in her 
 arms and kissed him with a fierce show of 
 affection. 
 
 "Come eat breakfast at once, sonny. 
 Don't make a noise or wake father. Let 
 him sleep as long as he will, for he was not 
 well last night. Here comes mother's little 
 girl," she beamed fondly upon Laura, who 
 just then entered the kitchen. "Come, 
 girlie, and get through with breakfast. 
 Mother has a pleasant surprise for you 
 both." 
 
 They looked up expectantly at her. 
 
 "You could never guess it. You are to 
 go into town to spend the day with Mrs. 
 Heiner. Won't that be lovely? She will 
 take you out in the pony cart and show you 
 her flowers and books. You are to go as 
 soon as you can get ready and stay until she 
 brings you home this evening." 
 
 Laura was loud in her exclamations of 
 delight, and began at once on her breakfast 
 that she soon might make ready for the visit.
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 245 
 
 But not so with Thomas. He pushed his 
 plate from him. He was suspicious of this 
 sudden visit. Did it mean that his father 
 would be taken away while he and Laura 
 were absent ? He looked up at his mother, 
 his fear showing in his eyes, and she under- 
 stood his look. 
 
 "It is all right, sonny," she whispered, 
 bending over the back of his chair until her 
 lips touched his forehead. "Doctor Bren- 
 hizer has gone to see Doctor Heiner. They 
 are both coming back soon to help father. 
 Doctor Brenhizer believes he can. At least, 
 he will make the attempt. If no good comes 
 from it, your father will be no worse than 
 before. There is one chance of making him 
 well, and I said that they should take that 
 chance. " 
 
 His face cleared. He was such a child 
 that his emotions bounded from one extreme 
 to another like a gum ball. He laughed 
 aloud. "We'll have a fine time, won't we, 
 Laura? Mrs. Heiner may let me hold the 
 reins and drive, but she won't let you, Laura.
 
 246 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 You're too little! It takes strong arms to 
 hold in a horse." 
 
 "I don't want to drive. I'd rather pick 
 flowers and she'll let me wear her string of 
 blue beads while I'm there." 
 
 Alice made the children ready and sent 
 them to town. Doctor Brenhizer had prom- 
 ised to tell Mrs. Heiner to expect them. He 
 himself had suggested their being sent away 
 for several days if possible. The presence 
 of children annoyed him, and he did not wish 
 to have them about the house while he was 
 there. 
 
 Alice watched them until they turned 
 from the Paddy's Run road into the one 
 that was but a continuation of the main 
 street of the town, then she went to put her 
 house in order. Her husband was at the 
 breakfast table when she went back to the 
 house. He looked tired out after his rest- 
 less night. She saw to it that he had what 
 he wished to eat and then slipped away to 
 arrange his bedroom. 
 
 Doctor Brenhizer had told her what to
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 247 
 
 make ready and had suggested that she have 
 his room as nearly like that of the old home 
 as possible, so that when he awakened he 
 would not be conscious at first of any great 
 change. When he awakened, if he ever 
 would! There was an uncertainty about 
 that. Yet she did not hesitate to take upon 
 her shoulders the responsibility of the risk. 
 She was doing for Jim what she knew he 
 would do for her were their positions 
 changed. It was her duty to give him the 
 chance of a living life even at great risks of 
 robbing him of life in any form. She 
 changed the furniture about, arranged the 
 window draperies and placed a picture op- 
 posite the bed where his glance might rest 
 upon it as it had been in the old home. 
 
 It was almost noon when the doctors and 
 nurse returned. Doctor Brenhizer re- 
 mained without, under the shade of the 
 forest trees, lest the sight of him might 
 excite the patient. Doctor Heiner came in 
 cheery and light-spirited. He sat down for 
 a few minutes in the living-room while Alice
 
 248 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 assisted Miss Spangler in making ready the 
 sponges and basins. At last Doctor Heiner 
 spoke to the man sitting near him. "Come 
 upstairs with me. You need to rest. You'll 
 feel fine if you sleep a little." 
 
 He arose and held out his hand. Jim 
 laid his own within it and went with the 
 doctor as quietly as a child. When they 
 entered the bedroom, he persuaded him to 
 undress and go to bed, promising that when 
 he awoke he would remember about the box 
 and the diamonds and the bones. And Jim 
 listened and did as he was told. But the 
 instant his head touched the pillow, Doctor 
 Heiner laid the sponge upon his nostrils and 
 lips. A minute later Jim Crissman was 
 unconscious that Doctor Brenhizer and 
 Miss Spangler were removing the pillow 
 from beneath his head and that his bed was 
 being wheeled close to the window. 
 
 When the operation had been performed 
 and the room put in its accustomed order, 
 the patient opened his eyes and looked about 
 him. The nurse and doctors were yet in
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 249 
 
 the room, but he was yet too much under 
 the influence of the ether to grasp what was 
 going on about him. He drank from the 
 glass which the nurse held to his lips and 
 then lay back again on the pillow and slept. 
 
 It was too soon to know whether the 
 operation would have the desired results but 
 not too soon to know that the danger of 
 death itself had passed. 
 
 Miss Spangler was left in charge of the 
 sickroom. The two doctors talked alone 
 with Alice before they left the house. 
 
 "We cannot tell when he will awaken; 
 but you must be there when he does. He 
 must see no strange face. Have all things 
 as nearly as possible as they were the day 
 he left home before the accident. He may 
 not understand that seven years have passed 
 and don't let him know now. Agree with 
 all he says and keep him tranquil and 
 quiet." 
 
 This was the gist of the advice they gave 
 her and she realized how important seeming 
 trifles might be in his awakening.
 
 250 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 She went into the children's room and 
 taking from the chest the linen dress she had 
 worn the evening before Jim had gone on 
 his trip, she dressed herself in it, though 
 she felt awkward and ill at ease. She 
 arranged her hair in the old fluffy, girlish 
 style of seven years before. Yet in spite of 
 her care, it was not the same Alice who had 
 worn the gown before. She examined her- 
 self in the glass. The girlishness had gone 
 from face and figure, yet a new charm had 
 taken its place. Jim might find her dif- 
 ferent, but perhaps the new Alice would 
 please him even more than the other had 
 done. 
 
 The children were to stay with Mrs. 
 Heiner for the remainder of the week. She 
 missed them sadly, yet felt that the doctors 
 were right in thinking that their absence at 
 this time was best both for themselves and 
 their father. 
 
 She hovered about the bedroom door until 
 evening. Then the nurse allowed her to
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 251 
 
 come in and sit by the bedside while she her- 
 self rested. 
 
 Twilight came and deepened into night. 
 Early in the evening Dr. Brenhizer came in, 
 touched the pulse, listened to the beating of 
 the heart, and gave an exclamation of relief. 
 
 Alice was about to arise and light the 
 lamp, but he forbade her. "Ill sit here a 
 while," he said, seating himself in the chair 
 by the open window. 
 
 It was past ten o'clock when the patient 
 stirred, moved, and then his eyes fell upon 
 the white figure by his side. 
 
 "Why, Alice, are you up and dressed?" 
 
 Her heart sprang into her throat and 
 choked her. For seven years, she had been 
 starving to hear him speak her name. She 
 felt like laughing aloud and shrieking for 
 joy, but his welfare was first in her mind, so 
 she controlled herself and said calmly, 
 "Yes, Jim, I've been up some time." 
 
 "About what time is it?" 
 
 "Somewhere about ten o'clock."
 
 252 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 ' ' I thought it wasn 't daylight yet. You 've 
 kept the blinds down and the room dark so 
 I could sleep. Wasn't the caller here? I 
 stood second out. " 
 
 * ' No, he hasn 't been here. I suppose he '11 
 be around later." 
 
 He made a motion as though he would get 
 up. She laid a restraining hand on his arm. 
 
 "You must stay in bed to-day, Jim, or 
 until the doctor comes. You've been sick, 
 you know." 
 
 "No, I didn't know. I did have horrible 
 dreams about something. I was trying to 
 talk and no one seemed to know what I said. 
 "What was the matter ? ' ' 
 
 She did not need to answer, for his hand 
 had gone up to his head and touched the 
 bandages. He partly grasped their mean- 
 ing. 
 
 "Been hurt 1 An accident ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, but not serious. You were uncon- 
 scious. That was all." 
 
 "Were any of the other men hurt? How 
 did it happen?"
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 253 
 
 "It wasn't a wreck, Jim. The train went 
 through, all right. You were the only 
 one " 
 
 "I'm glad of that." 
 
 " who was hurt. You were hit by a 
 stone from the quarry." 
 
 "It's a wonder there are not more hurt. 
 The first thing I do when I get out of bed is 
 to report that place as dangerous. They 
 have no business to let Huns and Dagos fix 
 a blast. They don't know how to use 
 powder. I'll see that that place is reported 
 at once." 
 
 "Yes, Jim." 
 
 She did not tell him that five years had 
 passed since a blast had been set off at the 
 quarry. He was quiet for some minutes. 
 
 "What day is it?" 
 
 "Friday, Jim." 
 
 "Friday, and I made my first run on 
 Tuesday. Have I been sick all that time?" 
 
 "Yes; but you were a very good patient, 
 Jim. I was with you all the time." 
 
 "What did you do with the babies'?"
 
 254 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Mrs. Heiner is taking care of them." 
 
 "Did Laura's tooth come through?" 
 
 "Yes; she was a little fretful. That was 
 all. But babies generally are with the first 
 tooth. " 
 
 Dr. Brenhizer stirred near the window. 
 Jim Crissman turned his head but his eyes 
 could not pierce the darkness. 
 
 "Whoisthat,AUie<?" 
 
 "The doctor, Jim." 
 
 ' ' Is that you, Heiner ? You Ve made a nice 
 job of it, keeping me in bed almost a week. 
 But I've the upper hand now, and I mean to 
 get out of here on short notice." 
 
 "Nothing will please me better. But this 
 is not Heiner. He couldn't be on hand and 
 I've taken his place." 
 
 The patient raised himself slightly in an 
 effort to see the speaker but he could not. 
 He lay back on the pillow again. 
 
 "You're a stranger, doctor. I know by 
 your voice. I was raised in this town and I 
 know every man in it. How did you happen 
 to get side-tracked here?"
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 255 
 
 The doctor moved nearer the bed. "I 
 have friends here and I came up for a time. 
 My name 's Brenhizer. ' ' 
 
 "I wonder if you could be the Doctor 
 Brenhizer who lives over at Dixmont 1 ' ' 
 
 "The very same. How did you happen 
 to hear of me?" 
 
 "Some queer things happen. I heard of 
 you for the first time last Tuesday when I 
 went out. There was a young man bum- 
 ming his way in an empty freight car. I 
 got to talking to him when we waited for 
 orders at the O. K. office. He was in a 
 pretty bad way. He was all worked up over 
 some of the wild things he had been doing." 
 
 "And what did he say of me?" 
 
 "He said to write to you and tell you that 
 he had turned over a new leaf. He was on 
 his way to join a fellow he had met at school 
 and who was located in the southwest. He 
 said if you wanted to hear from him and it 
 was safe for him to ever come back you were 
 to write to him there." 
 
 "He was very thoughtful. Thank you,
 
 256 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 Crissman, for delivering the message. The 
 young scamp should not have bothered a 
 stranger to deliver his messages for him. 
 tWhat was the name of the place 1" 
 
 "I've forgotten. He wrote it down on a 
 scrap of paper. I suppose it's stuffed in my 
 overalls pocket." 
 
 "I found it, Jim, and put it safely away. 
 It was Telluride, Mexico, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, that's the place. He said if you 
 missed anything at home you were to look 
 in the old bone's head. Whate\ he meant 
 by that, I don't know. But those are his 
 very words." 
 
 "Yes, I understand. We had a little joke 
 of our own. Thank you, Crissman. I'm 
 going now. You are to do no more talking, 
 but take this medicine and go to sleep or 
 111 see that you are kept in bed more than 
 one day longer." 
 
 He left the old mill-house and went into 
 town. The places of business had been 
 closed for hours and the streets were 
 deserted. He was glad of it for he wished
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 257 
 
 to meet no one whom he knew and to talk 
 with no one. 
 
 He walked the streets until he found the 
 telegraph office from which he sent two mes- 
 sages. The one was to the chief town officer 
 at Telluride, Mexico and read : 
 
 "Spare no money to find Harry Bren- 
 hizer who left for your, town seven years 
 ago. Communicate with father Henry 
 Brenhizer." 
 
 The second was to his assistant at Dix- 
 mont. "S jtfch cranial cavities of skeleton 
 in box in home office. Telegraph contents." 
 
 After writing the messages, he went to 
 Doctor Heiner where he made his home 
 while in town. 
 
 "Our man is all right," he called to 
 Doctor Heiner as he passed his bedroom. 
 "He'll be out in a day or more." 
 
 The following morning proved that his 
 conclusions were incorrect for on visiting 
 the mill-house they found Jim Crissman 
 delirious with fever. 
 
 17
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE DAWNIXG OF THE DAY 
 
 There were ten days of suspense and un-. 
 certainty concerning Jim Crissman's illness. 
 Then the fever abated and he lay as helpless 
 as a child. But his mind was back as it had 
 been before the accident, and the seven 
 years of his affliction had passed from his 
 memory. If he was conscious of them at 
 all, it was as though they were parts of a 
 half -remembered dream. 
 
 Doctor Brenhizer was devoted in his at- 
 tentions, making frequent visits each day 
 and providing the medicine and food neces- 
 sary to the patient's recovery. His manner 
 was as brusque and his face as grim as ever, 
 but even Margery was forgetting them when 
 she saw his skill and devotion. 
 
 The evening after the second day on which 
 259
 
 260 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 he had sent his messages word came from 
 his assistant at Dixmont. Its receipt took 
 from Doctor Brenhizer much of the shame 
 he had been carrying for years, for in the 
 cavity of the skull of the skeleton the as- 
 sistant had found the jewels which Doctor 
 Brenhizer thought his own son had stolen. 
 The son had put them there, of course. 
 Doctor Brenhizer would not ask himself the 
 reason. He was satisfied to wait an explana- 
 tion ; he was not impatient. He had waited 
 seven years without hope for this bit of 
 knowledge. Now a few months would soon 
 pass with hope to bear him company. 
 
 When the patient had so far recovered 
 that he observed what was passing on about 
 him, he became conscious that the room was 
 not the same. 
 
 " Where am I, Alice ?" he asked, letting 
 his glance wander over the unfamiliar 
 walls, * ' I 'm not at home. ' ' 
 
 "No, Jim," she smiled lightly. "We're 
 down at the old mill-house on Paddy's Run. 
 You remember that?"
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 261 
 
 "Yes; but what possessed you to come 
 here, the most out-of-the-way place that you 
 could find? And why did you take the 
 trouble of moving at all?" 
 
 "For several reasons. Mr. McCormick 
 allowed me to use the place for nothing. 
 The air and quiet were the only things to 
 make you well, and here I can let the 
 children play all day in their dark clothes 
 and not bother with much washing and 
 ironing." 
 
 "You are a wise little woman," he re- 
 plied, reaching forth to touch her hand. 
 "It is a hard enough matter to have me to 
 wait on without dressing the kids in finery. 
 You don't look like yourself, Allie. What's 
 the trouble?" 
 
 "I worried about you a great deal while 
 you were ill, Jim," she answered simply. 
 "And the children worried, too." 
 
 "The poor kids! You must have a good 
 easy time when I'm able to be about again. 
 You must sit in an easy chair and I'll wait 
 on you. I don't like to see you look worn
 
 262 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 out." He was quiet a few minutes and 
 then began on the subject she had been 
 dreading. 
 
 "I'm sick to see the babies, Allie. Did 
 the doctor say when they could come to see 
 me?" 
 
 "No, Jim. He didn't say a word about 
 it, but I suppose he wants you to be quite 
 strong first. He's afraid they will be noisy 
 and that will make you worse. Mrs. Heiner 
 took them home with her today. She's been 
 so good." 
 
 * * A little noise would be good for me. I 'm 
 dying to see the babies. Couldn't you slip 
 them in just a minute, Allie?" 
 
 "No, Jim, I'm afraid the doctor wouldn't 
 like it. He's been so careful and has taken 
 care of you without a cent. He said he was 
 well paid in learning about an accident like 
 this." 
 
 "Well, we could have paid him easily 
 enough. We're not beggars even if I can't 
 earn anything for a month. We have
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 263 
 
 eighteen hundred dollars in the box, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes, Jim. I was thinking of that. I 
 looked about everywhere before we left 
 home, but you had it hidden so well. I 
 thought no robbers could find it if I could 
 not." 
 
 " You'd never find it in the house, Allie. 
 I knew you would feel uneasy and look for it 
 and then be worried into fits if you found 
 it. I fooled you that time, Allie." 
 
 "Well, where did you put it, Jim? You 
 don't need be afraid of telling me now. 
 Since you've been ill I've quit worrying 
 about such trifles as money." 
 
 "You have?" He laughed as he used to 
 do. "Well, then, little woman, I'll tell you. 
 I pried up one end of the flagstones the 
 first one near the steps and laid the box flat. 
 Then I pounded the stone down, and there 
 it is safe." 
 
 "I never thought of looking there. The 
 stones seemed so level."
 
 264 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "So you see we could have paid the doctor 
 his price. Do you know whom he makes me 
 think of? There was a young fellow bum- 
 ming his way in the freight car the morning 
 I was hurt. The only difference is that this 
 doctor is older and grimmer. I have been 
 wondering if they could be related in any 
 way." 
 
 "I do not know." She was glad that he 
 had forgotten what had taken place during 
 the short period of consciousness which had 
 followed the operation. 
 
 Each day he asked that the children might 
 be brought in to see him, and each day she 
 put him off with excuses. It was not until 
 lie was strong enough to walk from the bed 
 across the room to the window that he forced 
 her to tell him the truth. 
 
 "I'm going to see the kids to-day, Allie. 
 If you won't bring them here, I'll walk 
 downstairs. That will hurt me more than 
 having them here. You will bring them, 
 won't you, Allie?" 
 
 " In a few minutes, Jim. ' ' She came close
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 265 
 
 and, drawing a stool near, sat down by his 
 chair and held his hands in hers. 
 
 "I wished to talk to you first, Jim." She 
 smiled cheerfully. * ' How long do you think 
 you have been ill 1 ' ' 
 
 "Well, I really don't know. A long time 
 from the looks of my bones. A month?" 
 
 " Suppose, Jim, that it was a longer time 
 than that a year or even more than a year. 
 "Would you bear it and laugh over it?" 
 
 "I don't know about laughing over it, but 
 as to bearing it, I've got to do that. But 
 surely I couldn't have been so ill for over a 
 year and not know it. Besides I'd been 
 even more of a skeleton than this." 
 
 "But, Jim, dear, sometimes there are 
 other kinds of illness when the body is 
 strong." Her face was growing white and 
 drawn. She felt that she would die rather 
 than tell him. He saw how she was suffer- 
 ing and, forgetting himself, tried Ms best to 
 reassure and strengthen her. 
 
 "Yes, Allie, I'm beginning to understand. 
 What was it?"
 
 266 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 "Just your memory, Jim. You forgot 
 me and the children and everyone. You 
 could not say my name." 
 
 "Forgot youT' 1 
 
 "Yes, but it must have been only my name, 
 for you would smile and seem so happy to be 
 with me." 
 
 "How long has it been, Allie? Don't be 
 afraid to tell me. I'll stand it." 
 
 "Seven years, Jim." 
 
 "Seven years!" he repeated the words 
 softly as though he did not fully grasp their 
 meaning. "Seven years, Allie." He let 
 his head fall back on the pillows of the chair 
 and closed his eyes. Again thoughts of his 
 wife saved him. He turned suddenly to her. 
 
 "Was I always with you, Allie? Or did 
 you send me away?" 
 
 "Send you away? Why, Jim, do you 
 think I would do that? No, you have never 
 been away from me unless it was that you 
 walked with the children in the woods." 
 
 "But, Allie, tell me honestly. Was I
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 267 
 
 hard to manage? Was I ever unkind to 
 you? I never harmed you, did I?" 
 
 ''Why, no, Jim. You were always the 
 loveliest, kindest person. You always 
 smiled at me and patted my hand. You 
 never had an ugly look or an ugly word for 
 me. Why, you couldn't be unkind, Jim!" 
 
 "I'm glad I didn't make you fear me." 
 
 They sat silent, hand in hand for some 
 time. 
 
 Then she said, "Thomas is a big boy and 
 has been in school three years. He has been 
 such a comfort to me. Shall I bring the 
 children up to you now, Jim?" 
 
 "Not now. Let us sit just this way for 
 the rest of the day. I can't understand it all 
 and it must come back gradually." 
 
 So they sat until Alice was compelled to 
 slip away to prepare the midday meal. 
 Doctor Brenhizer came in then and sat with 
 the patient. 
 
 To the surprise of both wife and doctor, 
 the patient bore the shock remarkably well.
 
 268 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 The next morning he again asked for the 
 children and when they came he talked with 
 them as though the past seven years had not 
 been. From this time his improvement was 
 most marked. When he was able to come 
 downstairs, a little party gathered on the 
 porch, shaded by the woodbine. 
 
 Margery, who had come down from the 
 lumber camp to spend the day, was among 
 them ; and Alice and the children and Doctor 
 Brenhizer. Jim, lying back in his easy 
 chair, began again the story of the young 
 man who rode that day on the box car. 
 
 "I suppose you're the man that boy 
 meant," he said, addressing Doctor Bren- 
 hizer. "I meant to send you word. You 
 know why I did not. The fault was not 
 mine. Now perhaps it is too late. ' ' 
 
 "Not altogether. You told me a good bit 
 a few weeks ago. I telegraphed at once." 
 
 "How did you know where? I cannot 
 remember th3 place. I just glanced at the 
 paper he handed me." 
 
 "But your wife kept the paper. As I
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 269 
 
 said, I sent word to Telluride over three 
 weeks ago." 
 
 "And no reply!" said Alice anxiously. 
 " That is too bad." 
 
 "I did not say that. I had word in less 
 than forty-eight hours. It was from Harry 
 himself saying that he would come as soon 
 as he could leave a patient. I didn't under- 
 stand just what he meant ; but a letter later 
 told me that Doctor Harry Brenhizer was an 
 honor to the name." 
 
 * 
 
 During the following week, Dr. Harry 
 Brenhizer came to the old mill-house and the 
 camp on the mountain top. He was a man 
 every inch of him, and his father's heart 
 grew young again as his eyes rested upon 
 him for none but a pure, strong man could 
 look as this boy of his looked. 
 
 "I'll tell you all about it, father," he said 
 as they walked arm in arm before the mill- 
 house. "Just for one instant I was tempted 
 to take mother's jewels. I meant to pawn 
 them and free myself of debt. But I didn't.
 
 270 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 I had them in my hand as I went through 
 the office to go back upstairs for fear I 
 should be tempted again ; and as to the check, 
 I did not know what I was doing when I put 
 your name to it. When I came to myself, I 
 did what I could to have it recalled, but it 
 was too late." 
 
 They had come up to the door of the mill- 
 house before which Alice and her husband 
 sat, while Thomas and Laura with the young 
 people from the camp were looking over a 
 number of new books which Doctor Harry 
 had brought from town for them. 
 
 " There has been seven years of worry and 
 trouble for nothing," said Doctor Brenhizer. 
 
 "I don't think so, father," was the reply. 
 "I think it was for something. I could not 
 understand it then, but I think I do now. It 
 was well for me that I had seven years of 
 hard work and struggle against the weak- 
 ness of my own nature. When I awoke to 
 the fact that I had betrayed my father's con- 
 fidence, and had reached the place where I 
 had lost control of myself, I was almost des-
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 271 
 
 perate. I did what I could to cut off from 
 evil, but it was stronger than I was. I was 
 hopeless and almost lost until I found that 
 man is not expected to rely on his own 
 strength. That gave me confidence in my- 
 self and my own reform." 
 
 "But if you could have stayed with me, or 
 if the word you sent by Crissman could have 
 come to me, there would not have been seven 
 lonelv years." 
 
 v v 
 
 "Yet I say it was best, father. If I had 
 heard from you, I would have been happier, 
 but I also would have been much more easily 
 satisfied. But I said to myself, 'My father 
 is ashamed and grieved ; but shame and grief 
 will not come to him again for me.' No, 
 father, it was all for the best for me. It was 
 Jim Crissman and his wife who suffered 
 without recompense." 
 
 They were within hearing of the little 
 group before the mill-house. Jim Crissman 
 smiled at the words. "I am not so sure. 
 Perhaps I've been paid for the seven years' 
 run over a sand-ballast and up grade. Alice
 
 272 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 
 
 and I planned a good bit and knew exactly 
 what we would do for the kids. Thomas was 
 to be a doctor and Laura a fine musician, if 
 she took to it. We had everything cut and 
 dried. We were the whole road and all the 
 departments; but," he looked about him on 
 the faces marked with the experiences of the 
 last seven years. It was difficult for him to 
 express himself about matters which lay 
 close to that great tender heart of his. He 
 had been a railroad man all his life and it 
 was natural that even his religious instincts 
 ; expressed themselves in terms of the road. 
 It was with the greatest reverence he con- 
 tinued, "but the Lord side-tracked us to 
 show that He had the right of way for 
 awhile." 
 
 , Alice understood him better than the 
 others. She could not smile at the lightness 
 ,of his words. She knew how much these 
 seven years had done for her. Her sorrow 
 and responsibility had purified and strength- 
 ened her. She was tender, self-controlled, 
 unselfish, faithful. The years had given her
 
 SIXTY-FIVE ON TIME 273 
 
 these qualities. What more could she ask of 
 them than that 1 
 
 These had been seven lean years for the 
 Crissmans, as far as material matters were 
 considered, but they were swallowed up by 
 seven fat ones. 
 
 The tin box was unearthed from its bed 
 under the stone, and the money was paid on a 
 little home not far from the old place. 
 Doctor Henry Brenhizer became interested 
 in Thomas and promised that the oppor- 
 tunity for a medical education would be 
 waiting him when he was ready for it. 
 
 But best of all yet Jim Crissman and 
 Alice broke down and cried when it hap- 
 pened was the day when the sick man was 
 wholly well, and was doing odd chores about 
 the place, and the one-armed caller came to 
 the front fence and cried out, "Hey there, 
 Crissman, you're called for Sixty-Five on 
 time!" 
 
 THE END
 
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