THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 LEN GANSETT 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 OPIE READ 
 
 Author of "The Starbucks," "The Carpetbagger," "Old 
 
 Ebenezer," "The Jucklins," "My Young Master," "On 
 
 the Suwanee River," "A Tennessee Judge," "A 
 
 Kentucky Colonel," " Emmett Bonlore," 
 
 "The Wives of the Prophet," "The 
 
 Colossus," "The Tear in the 
 
 Cup and Other Stories," 
 
 CHICAGO 
 LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1888 
 BY TICKNOR AND COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Copyright, 1902, by WM. H. LEE
 
 PS 
 
 PRKKACK 
 
 TO THE lo^th THOUSAND 
 
 This book was written when a certain neighborhood 
 was fresh in mind. And there is one little incident that 
 sustains me in the belief that in the delineation of these 
 characters I must have hit upon the element of truth. 
 One afternoon, not long ago, I was sitting beneath a tree 
 in the neighborhood where these scenes are laid, talking 
 to an old justice of the peace. Presently he said : 
 
 " By the way, yonder comes old man Gentry. The 
 other day I gave him that Len Gansett book and told 
 him lo take it home and let his v/ife read it to him 
 can't read himself. Now we'll hear what he's got 
 to say about it." 
 
 The old man came along, driving a mule and a red 
 steer hitched to a wagon, and when he was abreast of 
 us, the justice spoke to him. 
 
 " Howdy Mr. Gentry." 
 
 "Whoa hor, come yere Buck. Wy howdy, 'Squire," 
 
 " Take that book home with you ? ' ' 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 "Your wife read it to you?" 
 
 "Ah, hah." 
 
 "What do you think of it?" 
 
 The old man scratched his head. "W'y, 'Squire, 
 that ain't no book at all. I've hearn folks talk thatter 
 way all my life." 
 
 It was better than a thousand words from a recog 
 nized critic. 
 
 2062G10
 
 LBN GANSETT. 
 
 i. 
 
 "WELL," how're you pleased with the place by this 
 time?" remarked old Bob Gansett, addressing his grand 
 son, who, a few days before, had arrived in the neigh 
 borhood of Abbott's Ford. 
 
 "I am very much pleased." 
 
 "Ah, hah, I s'pose so. What do you say your fust 
 name is?" 
 
 "Now, pap," interposed old Mrs. Gansett, "I don't 
 want you to torment the child. You know his name's 
 Lenqubees, an' what makes you-want to keep on a-askin' 
 an' a-askin' o' him?" 
 
 The old man's eyes winked with merriment. "Lenqu 
 bees," he repeated. Well, I'll swear! Lenqubees! 
 Well, I hope it won't result in nothin' bad. How old 
 are you?" 
 
 "I am going on twenty-two." 
 
 "Had" that name all the time?" 
 
 "Of course I have." 
 
 "I didn't know. Didn't know you could stand it 
 that long." 
 
 Again the old lady remonstrated. "You know very 
 well when he was named," she said; "know it as well 
 as I do, every bit an' grain."
 
 Q LEN OANSETT. 
 
 "Oil, I mout o' heard something about it, Sarah; but 
 it passed out o' my mind/' 
 
 "I am sorry/' said the young man, with an air of 
 annoyance, "that you are so much exercised over my 
 name. It is the name which my father your eon 
 gave me." 
 
 "That may be true," old Bob replied; "but Hildenroy 
 never did have good jedgment." 
 
 "Hildenroy," repeated young Gansett. The two men 
 looked at each other and laughed. Then the old man 
 acknowledged that he had bestowed upon his son the 
 name of Hildenroy, and after an argument in which he 
 exhibited much tact, he agreed that the name had an 
 odd sound; but even after this he continued to repeat 
 the name of his grandson as though it had taken 
 possession of him. 
 
 The neighborhood of Abbott's Ford is situated in 
 one of the northern counties of Arkansas. Six Points 
 river, which runs through the neighborhood, is fordable 
 at any place, and why any ford should be specially 
 designated is beyond the power of any man to make 
 clear. The neighborhood of Abbott's Ford is not a wild 
 section of country. Many of its farm-houses are moss- 
 grown, and many of its fields, long since worn, by suc 
 cession of corn crops, into sterility, have been thrown 
 out to grow up in persimmon and sassafras bushes. The 
 people have never held education in high esteem. They 
 argued, many of them, that education had been largely 
 instrumental in causing the war, and that they would 
 rather be ignorant and contented than to be educated 
 and unhappy. Schools, however, were not wholly un-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 7 
 
 known in the neighborhood of Abbott's Ford, for 
 "readin', 'ritin', an' 'rithmetie" were, during three 
 months of the year, taught in the Ebeneezer meeting 
 house. The higher branches of learning were con 
 demned, and grammar was looked upon with especial 
 disfavor. The circuit rider, at the time to which this 
 story relates, was a man of great importance; and to him 
 many good people looked for information, not alone 
 that which concerned their soul's, but, in great part, 
 the gossip of the neighborhood. He was a kind of news 
 letter. He prayed earnestly, and ate with vigor and 
 relish. He sang lustily, and, with marked pertinacity, 
 insisted that his meagre salary should be paid. 
 
 Robert Gansett and his wife, while they were both 
 young, settled in the Abbott's Ford neighborhood, hav 
 ing come from Tennessee. Old Bob, as nearly every 
 one called him, was a man of good sense, but of little 
 education. While a young man he possessed a passion 
 for horse-racing, and when he became old, although 
 he had long since allied his speculative destinies with 
 those of a church, there was still about him a perceptible 
 fondness for spirited horse-flesh. His temper, humor 
 ously equable, rendered him an agreeable companion. 
 He was quizzical and prankish; he was kind-hearted 
 and generous. The wild bursts of laughter which had 
 characterized him in youth had settled down into a 
 smile and hearty chuckle, which characterized him now 
 that the noon of life was long since past. His beard 
 was bushy and iron-gray; his mouth, when in repose, 
 indicated strength of purpose, and his eyes had the
 
 g LEN OANSETT. 
 
 effect of making one believe that their owner was speak 
 ing the truth. 
 
 Mrs. Gansett, borrowing an expression often used by 
 the neighbors, was as good an old soul as ever lived. 
 "With tenderness she cared for the afflicted, and she knew 
 that every one who died was better off. Life to her was 
 merely a season during which to prepare for death. 
 Often during revivals she would shout as though her 
 quart cup of great joy were overflowing; and without 
 her presence the mourner's bench seemed to languish. 
 The preachers may have been the lamp, and the ex- 
 horters may have been the wick, but she was the oil. 
 
 Len Gansett had come to live with his grand-parents. 
 His father and mother were dead. The young man was 
 tall and strong, was well educated, but did not appear 
 to be especially fitted for anything. He was not an idle 
 dreamer, but his fondness for reading novels was much 
 mc-re pronounced than his disposition to perform any 
 kind of labor. He had lived in N^ew Orleans, had 
 "roughed it" with cowboys in Texas, and he had stood 
 behind the counter of a St. Louis dollar-store. He had 
 not long been connected with the establishment when 
 the proprietor called him one day and said: 
 
 "Gansett, you don't seem to get the hang of things." 
 
 "I am afraid that I don't." 
 
 "You are afraid so? Why, confound it! you don't 
 try. This morning I noticed that you kept a book be 
 hind the counter, and that you paid more attention to 
 it than to my customers. Can't stand that, Gansett. 
 Guess you'd better go."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 9 
 
 The young man, having failed in every previous 
 undertaking, was now more than ever cast down. 
 
 He had congratulated himself upon having at last 
 found something for which he was fitted, but he soon 
 heard mutterings which warned him that somehow he 
 was not giving satisfaction. He did not seem to think 
 that there could be the least objection to his turning 
 to a book when there were no customers demanding his 
 services. After receiving his discharge he went to his 
 lodgings, where he found a letter from his prandparents 
 urging him to come and live with them. Within an 
 hour from the time of receiving the letter young Gan- 
 sett was on a St. Louis and Iron Mountain railway 
 train, rushing toward his new home. A day's ride in a 
 stage-coach completed the journey. He was delighted 
 with the old place. The Gansett farm was one of the 
 best in the country, and the Gansetts were held in high 
 esteem. The old house, part stone and part wood, was 
 situated on a hill near the river, and was surrounded by 
 great trees. To the young man who had been so much 
 knocked about, the old place breathed a promise of rest. 
 At first -he hardly knew how to take his frolicsome 
 grandfather, but he was shrewd enough to see that the 
 old man was a man of excellent sense, and that, not 
 withstanding his prankish disposition, he was gentle 
 and kindhearted. Len had just returned from a visit 
 to Dogwood, a small village about two miles distant 
 from the Gansett farm, when the old man asked him the 
 question which opens the first chapter of this story. 
 
 "Lenqubees," said the old man, "you are pretty well
 
 10 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 put together, an' I don't have no doubt but what you 
 can make a mule powerful tired in the course of a day." 
 
 "I prefer riding a horse/' the young man replied. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean for you to ride the mule, but walk 
 behind him. Hand me that pipe up there on the man 
 telpiece. Look out, don't knock off the camfire bottle." 
 
 Len handed him the pipe, and when the old man had 
 filled it with tobacco he began carefully to pick up the 
 crumbs which had fallen on his knee. 
 
 "You pick up those crumbs as if you had not a barn 
 full of tobacco. You are surely a rigid economist, and 
 you make me think with regret of how I used to 
 squander my salary." 
 
 "I never squandered a cent of money in my life," the 
 old man rejoined. "I have given money to the needy, 
 but I never wasted it. Economy ain't a habit with me; 
 it's a nature." 
 
 "Never squandered money, you say? How about 
 horse-racing in your younger days? Don't mean that 
 you always won, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I often lost, but I took care to see that the 
 men who won were needy. I never squandered a cent, 
 Lenqubees." 
 
 Mrs. Ganseitt had left the room to drive a hen out of 
 the kitchen. "Air you still a-twittin' o' that child?" 
 she asked, upon reentering the room. "I declare, pap, 
 that you act like you never heard o' it before. Don't 
 you know that his mother wrote to us Hildenroy never 
 would write and told us what they had named the 
 child, an' don't you know you said you'd bet he lived? 
 An' I know you hurt my feelin's, for when I asked you
 
 LEN GANSETT. H 
 
 how you knowed, you 'lowed that a child that could 
 stand such a name two weeks would live to split his 
 cradle into kindlin' wood. Len, don't let your grandpa 
 torment you, for he's gettin' childish, I do believe." 
 
 The old lady, thoroughly satisfied with the remarks 
 she had made, settled herself back in her chair, and the 
 old man blew smoke through a grin. 
 
 "Oh, we are on the best of terms/' Len replied. "He 
 is more than welcome to all the amusement which my 
 name can furnish. By the way," he added, rising and 
 taking down a gun from a rack over the door, "believe 
 I'll go down to the river and see if any ducks have come 
 in." 
 
 "It's rather too soon in the season for 'em," the old 
 man said. 
 
 "Well, I'll go anyway. Perhaps some of the skirmish 
 ers have come." 
 
 "That youngster is full of the 'Old Harry/ " said old 
 Bob Gansett when Len had quitted the house. "He's 
 mighty quiet now, but he's only feelin' his way. I don't 
 think, though, that he's lazy, an' as long as he ain't that 
 I ken put 'up with him. I do believe that laziness is the 
 unpardonable sin." 
 
 "Pap, you ought to be ashamed to talk that way." 
 
 "I do, Sarah, sho's you're born'd I do. Just take a 
 man that won't work an' he's ginerally putty well filled 
 up with nearly all the other sins. A man that won't 
 work ain't no 'count." 
 
 Len turned towards the river and thus mused as he 
 slowly walked along: "AVhat an odd old gentleman! 
 Time has not relieved him of his love of fun. It is said
 
 12 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 that humor ripens slowly, and I believe that it does. 
 His fun is a kind of autumnleaf rustle, not the dry 
 leaf, for that would be satire instead of humor; but the 
 red and yellow leaf, from which the sap has not all been 
 drawn. There is a freshness here with which I find 
 myself falling in love. This country is rude, but it is 
 not raw, for there is a mellowness everywhere. Those 
 great rocks in their skirts of gray and caps of green moss 
 are grand. Here is where my father played when he 
 was a boy. I have heard him talk of the wonderful fish 
 he used to catch out of this river." 
 
 He stood on the bank of the river and thoughtfully 
 looked at the beautiful stream. The first frost had 
 fallen, but it had been so light that the cotton stalk 
 seemed to stand in surprise, not knowing whether to 
 curl up its top leaves in obedience to the warning chill 
 or to hold up its head and open its top boll; but the 
 sycamore-tree, more easily discouraged, threw down its 
 leaves and waved its bare arms in the evening's long- 
 drawn sigh. 
 
 "Not a duck in sight," mused the young man. "Prob 
 ably I may find a squirrel. Grandpa laughs at me so 
 much that I don't want to go back empty-handed. He 
 must take me for a child, when in fact he would feel 
 much older if he had passed through a few years of my 
 experience." 
 
 He turned into a narrow ravine. The summer's sun 
 had drawn nearly all the water from the little stream 
 which was wont to flow through the ravine, and as the 
 autumnal rains had been light there only remained a 
 succession of small pools, so closely covered with leaves
 
 LEN GANSETT. 13 
 
 that they could scarcely be distinguished from smooth 
 patches of earth. Len had proceeded but a short dis 
 tance when he stepped into one of the pools. Just then 
 he heard a merry, ringing laugh. Looking up, he saw 
 a girl sitting on a rock. 
 
 "You laughed just in time, young lady," said he, as 
 he turned and began to climb toward the rock on which 
 the girl was sitting. 
 
 "Why?" she asked when he had approached her. 
 
 "Because you might have heard something stronger 
 than polite." 
 
 "Oh, hoi" she said, "that wouldenter made no dif- 
 funce, fur dad he cusses nearly all the time. He cusses 
 the rheumatiz, an' when the rheumatiz ain't a-naggin' 
 an' a-peckin' at him, he cusses the cow. He's the out- 
 cussenest an' the outdationest man about some things 
 you ever seen." 
 
 "May I sit down?" Len asked. 
 
 "Yes, if you're tired, squat. I ain't a-carin'." 
 
 The girl-'s face was pretty and her form was indescrib 
 ably graceful, like a perfect letter found on a page of 
 bad manuscript and which seems to have been made by 
 accident. Her eyes were as brown as the leaves in the 
 pool, and her hair was as brown as her eyes. 
 
 "What made your hands so black, little miss?" 
 
 "I'm not a little miss." 
 
 "What are you?" 
 
 "Dad says I'm a gigglin' gal." 
 
 "You haven't answered my question. What is the 
 matter with your hands?"
 
 14 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Wa'nut stain. Been a-hullin' uv wannuts fur win- 
 wr." 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "Ned Hobdy." 
 
 "That's a strange name for a girl." 
 
 '^What's yer name?" 
 
 <4 Len Gansett." 
 
 "Yes, an' Lenqubees is a mighty strange name fur 
 anybody, I'm a-thinkin'." 
 
 "How do you know my name is " 
 
 "Oh, yer gran'mammy tole me all about how she was 
 a-goiii' ter write ter yer. Say, do I talk like a nigger?" 
 
 "Why do you ask such a question?" 
 
 "'Cause when I went to school over at Ebeneezer the 
 fool woman the pert thing what teached the school 
 said that I talked like a nigger. I kain't help it ef I 
 do, an', mor'n that' thar's a plenty uv the folks in this 
 here neighborhood that talks as bad as I does yes, a 
 all-fired sight of 'em." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 "Never mine axin" till yer've answered. Do I talk 
 like er nigger?" 
 
 "No, you remind me more of a wild bird." 
 
 "Oh, git out!" she exclaimed, though not in ill-humor, 
 for before Gansett could apologize for a remark which 
 he feared had offended her, she said, "I live about a mile 
 from here in a little ole house that yer wouldn't hardly 
 stop to look at. My mother is dead, an' I reckon that's 
 the reason I talk like a nigger. I kain't recolleck her, 
 but they tell me that she died er praisin' the Lawd, but 
 it won't be thater way with pap. He'll die a cussin' uv
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 15 
 
 the cow. Wall, I must be a-gittin' home, fur it's gittin' 
 dark. v 
 
 "Don't you want me to go with you?" 
 
 "Not much I don't. Talk 'bout a twelve-year-ole 
 gal flyin' roun' with comp'ny. W'y, man, yer mus' be 
 crazy." 
 
 "Well, good-by, Miss Ned." 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Bumblebees." 
 
 Darkness came on before Len reached the house. 
 
 "I'll play a joke on the old gentleman," he said when 
 he had reached the yard fence. He lay down by the 
 fence, and began to squall like a chicken in distress. 
 Instantly a door flew open, and the old man Gansett, 
 bareheaded and excited, bounded out into the yard. 
 
 "Shew! shew!" he cried. "Sarah, cadfound the luck! 
 the boy's got the gun, an' the deternal owls air a-totin' 
 off all the chickens. Shew, there!" 
 
 Len roared with laughter. "Well, I'll be pestered if 
 it ain't the fetchtaked boy," said the old man. "Sarah, 
 I told you he was full o' the 'Ole Harry.' Come on in 
 an* git your supper. Never mind, ole feller. I'll bet 
 you a thousan' dollars that I git even with you, see ef I 
 don't."
 
 16 LEN QAN8ETT. 
 
 II. 
 
 DOGWOOD was a village consisting of a dozen dwell 
 ings, three rude storehouses, and the office of the 
 "Weekly Picket." Len Gansett, soon after his arrival, 
 had made the acquaintance of the Hon. Mangus Dock 
 ery, editor and proprietor of the "Picket." The journal 
 ist had shown Len many marks of favor, and had invited 
 him to write for his paper. 
 
 "You might write me something funny/' the editor 
 said. "Everybody likes fun, and I am something of a 
 humorist. As you lived in New Orleans you might have 
 noticed that one of the papers there copied a thing from 
 me. No, it wasn't humorous. It was let me see 
 something about the cotton crop, I believe. Yes, gave 
 me credit for it right up to the handle." 
 
 Mr. Dockery wore jean trousers and a sort of linsey 
 waistcoat, but his coat was "store made." He wore 
 high-heeled boots. His face, in obedience to the de 
 mand of a strong nature, revealed the importance and 
 responsibility of his position, yet Mr. Dockery was not 
 imperious. He had often gone to one of the merchants 
 and" said, "I just lack seventy-five cents of 'having money 
 enough to get out my paper this week. It will contain 
 a handsome notice of your improved facilities for doing 
 business, and, if you want never mind. I was about to 
 to say that if you would let me have the seventy-five 
 cents but really I am already under numerous obliga 
 tions to you."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 17 
 
 Mr. Dockery was once a candidate for state land 
 commissioner,, and although his name was not 
 mentioned in the convention, yet he could justifiably 
 assume the title of "honorable." He was a very handy 
 man in the community, was courteous to strangers, and 
 always felt that he was performing no more than his 
 duty when he showed them into a back-room where the 
 "Blind Tiger's" teeth could be seen. Dockery was much 
 attached to the Gansetts, not especially because the old 
 man was a subscriber to the "Picket," but doubtless 
 because butter and chickens, brought from the Gansett 
 farm, were often left at the printing-office. 
 
 Early one morning the Hon. Mr. Dockery called at 
 the Gansett house, and requested Len to go home with 
 him. 
 
 "My object is a selfish one, I must acknowledge," he 
 said. "The fact is, I ain rather pushed this week. A 
 delinquent tax-list came in on me yesterday evening, 
 and if I pay the proper attention to it I fear that I shall 
 not have time enough to do my news columns justice; 
 so, my dear young friend, I want you to do some writing 
 for me." 
 
 "I have never written anything for publication," Len 
 replied, "and I fear that I could not get up anything 
 in the proper shape." 
 
 "Why, my dear sir," Mr. Dockery laughed, "who but 
 a professional editor can get up anything in the proper 
 shape? I will give you the points that I want written 
 up, and I can revise what you have written." 
 
 "Go on, Lenqubees," said old man Gansett. "You
 
 18 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 can't write up nothin' much wus than it has been wrote 
 up in the past." 
 
 The editor winced, but agreed with the old man. 
 "Why, come on/' he urged. "I am sure that when you 
 see your matter in print you'll not be ashamed of it. I 
 know exactly how you feel, for I was once an amateur 
 myself." 
 
 Len, without further protest, accompanied the editor. 
 The home of the "Weekly Picket" was constructed of 
 rough oak boards, set up endwise. The house had been 
 built while the lumber was green, and the consequent 
 shrinkage had left cracks so large that the editor was 
 never placed under the necessity of raising a window 
 for want of air. A placard tacked on the door bore the 
 following announcement: "Having purchased a com 
 plete outfit of latest styles of types, we are prepared to 
 do all kinds of job printing." 
 
 A strong man, at one load, could have carried away all 
 the types owned by the Hon. Mr. Dockery, yet the 
 editor was prepared to do all kinds of work. The hand- 
 press was old and battered, and the "cases," judging 
 from their ancient appearance, might have been used in 
 Jacobite garrets in the reign of William III. 
 
 "Go in," said the editor, opening the door and majes 
 tically waving his hand. "Now," he continued when 
 they had entered, "we'll sit down and smoke a while 
 and then go to work. Come in!" 
 
 Some one had knocked at the door. Four men 
 entered. They were introduced as Mort Haney, Asa 
 More, Andy Tillotson, and Eufus Malone. They were 
 uneducated farmers, and had come, they said, to "jaw"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 19 
 
 the editor awhile. Len had heard his grandfather speak 
 of the men, particularly of Mort Haney. Haney was a 
 gaunt, gray-eyed man with stiff hair. Shortly after 
 receiving an introduction to Len, Haney said: 
 
 "Wall, how do yer like it out here?" 
 
 "Very well," Len replied. 
 
 "Find a good deal of ignunce, I reckon?" 
 
 "I haven't been around very much " 
 
 "Oh, yer mean that yer ain't found it yit, but 'low 
 ter find it when yer do go round?" 
 
 "You misunderstand me, Mr. Haney. I do not mean 
 to cast any reflections on the people of this commnuity. 
 My father was born and reared in this part of the 
 country, and I would be the last man in the world " 
 
 "Come, gentlemen," interposed the editor, "don't let 
 us have a misunderstanding. Mr. Gansett, these men 
 can't write like a professional, but they are honest." 
 
 Asa More: "Yer bet we air, Dockery. We ain't 
 speech-makers, but we air as good j edges uv human 
 timber as the next crowd that comes along." 
 
 Andy Tillotson: "I believe I'm as good as any man, 
 ,an' dam'f I ain't willin' ter undertake ter prove it." 
 
 Eufus Malone: "I never was much uv a fighter, but 
 I ain't been whupped yit." 
 
 Len: "Gentlemen, you misunderstand me, are led 
 astray by the misconception of Mr. Haney. He thought 
 and without cause, that I had cast imputations upon 
 this neighborhood, when, in fact, nothing was farther 
 from my intention. It is sometimes a very difficult mat 
 ter to explain the simplest mistake; so now, gentlemen, 
 if I have said anything to wound any one's feelings or
 
 20 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 to arouse any one's resentment, I am sorry for it, and 
 I humbly beg pardon." 
 
 Dockery: "Hang it, men, don't jower. Len, I 
 wouldn't be surprised but our friends have been drink 
 ing a little, and we must therefore excuse them." 
 
 Mort Haney: "Nobody axed yer ter excuse us, Dock, 
 an' I don't reckon that nobody wants yer ter. I wuz er 
 talkin' ter this high-ferlutin' chap here. They say he's 
 lazy an' won't work, an' that's putty nigh anough fur 
 me at the fust offstart." 
 
 Len (angrily): "I have not asked you for your 
 opinion of me, sir. I have begged your pardon simply 
 because you hadn't sense enough to understand me " 
 
 Asa More: "Dam'f I don't believe this thing's a-get- 
 tin' a leetle too warm for me." 
 
 Haney: "Hold on, Asa, an' don't go, fur I want you 
 to see me through with this thing. I never urged this 
 here fuss, an' I ain't responsible fur it." 
 
 Dockery: "Gentlemen, I am very sorry that this mis 
 understanding should have occurred. I know that old 
 man Gansett will be sorry when he hears of this, all the 
 outgrowth of the slightest misunderstanding." 
 
 Haney: "Damn old man Gansett!" 
 
 Len sprang to his feet, but was instantly seized by 
 More and Tillotson. 
 
 "Come, now," said. More, as he forced Len back into 
 the arm-chair from which he had arisen, "none uv this, 
 er yer 5 !! git yerse'f inter buz'ness." 
 
 Haney: "Boys, yer all know me well miff ter know 
 that I ain't goin' ter stan' no break like that. No man 
 ken. 'wolf me like that/'
 
 LEN GANSETT. 21 
 
 Dockery: "I regret it very much, Len, but this 
 means immediate business." 
 
 Len (somewhat cooled down): ''How does it mean 
 business? It simply means that Haney is a fool for mis 
 understanding a simple remark." 
 
 Tillotson: "No, young feller, it means a good bit 
 mor'n that. Haney won't put up with no man's slack, 
 lemme tell yer, an' if thar ain't a change mighty quick 
 thar'll be some powder er burnin' roun' here." 
 
 Haney: "Now yer talkin'. I ain't never tuck the 
 'vantage uv no man yit, an' I'll gin him a show." 
 
 Dockery: "Len, you'll have to fight; I see no other 
 way." 
 
 Len (excitedly): "I am willing to fight, Mr. Dockery, 
 but I don't want to commit murder or to be murdered." 
 
 More: "The means air honorable. Dock has a 
 couple uv hoss pistols here." 
 
 Dockery (who has often marked paragraphs in the 
 papers which he sent to exchanges): "Perhaps the 
 gentlemen prefer Colt's?" 
 
 Haney: "Wall, it don't make no difference with me, 
 only so fur as I have a chance ter vindercate myse'f ; but 
 thar's goin' ter be a fight, an' all hell can't prevent it. 
 Asa More, I challenge that thing settin' thar, an' I want 
 yer ter be my secon'." 
 
 More: "I'm with yer, fur I know yer've been in 
 sulted." 
 
 Dockery (approaching Len and placing his hand on 
 the young man's shoulder): "My dear friend, I don't 
 see how you can get out of it. Say (in an undertone),
 
 22 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 that fellow ain't much of a shot. He'll fight, but don't 
 let him frighten you." 
 
 Len: "I'm not frightened, but " 
 
 Haney (overhearing the remark): "Yes, yer air 
 skeered. Yer air a damn coward, an' yer know it." 
 
 Len (springing to his feet and striking a table with 
 his clenched hand): "Haney, you've forced this on me, 
 and now, damn you, take the consequences. Lead on, 
 Dockery. I don't care whether we use pistols or 
 cannons."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 23 
 
 III. 
 
 THERE was no excitement in the village, for no one 
 except the men who witnessed the quarrel between Len 
 and Haney supposed that a duel was about to take place. 
 Haney was insolently cool. Len was somewhat excited. 
 
 "This is a very unfortunate affair, Gansett," said 
 Dockery, taking Len's arm, "and I hope you won't think 
 that it is the way in which we in general conduct such 
 matters. 'Some of the finest compositions I ever saw 
 were communications growing out of little social dif 
 ferences, and which led to vindications of honor. I am 
 sorry, for your grandfather's sake, that these arrange 
 ments could not have been touched up with a little more 
 elegant formality." 
 
 Len shuddered, and the editor continued: "Haven't 
 got a chill, I hope. If you have, I would like to recom 
 mend Peggleston's Pills; they are advertised in the 
 Ticket.' " 
 
 "Dockery, this is all foolishness," Len replied. "I 
 was brought up in a civilized way, and I don't believe in 
 such butchery. Say, Mr. Haney," stopping and ad 
 dressing the "fire-eater," who strolled along a short dis 
 tance behind, "can't we arrange this disgusting affair?" 
 
 "Ef yer ain't a coward, go on. It'll mighty soon be 
 arranged." 
 
 "Come, Gansett," said the editor, "there is no alter 
 native." 
 
 Len, without attempting further to settle the affair,
 
 24 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 suffered himself to -be led away. The place selected 
 was a dreary sandbar, partly overgrown with stubby 
 bushes. Len stood for a moment and gazed at the river. 
 He had but a few moments' time, for Dockery, thrust 
 ing a pistol into the young man's hand, said: 
 
 "He's standing off there waiting for you. Don't 
 tremble that way. Aim at his breast. That's right; 
 brace yourself." 
 
 Haney showed no signs of fear. Len had hoped that 
 the impetuous man would, when he saw the near 
 approach of blood, consent to some sort of com 
 promise; but Haney's calm determination tore loose 
 hope's last ligament, and, addressing the editor, he said, 
 "Dockery, you know that I didn't bring this on. I tried 
 to get out of it. Please tell my grandfather " 
 
 "How much longer air yer goin' ter palaver?" shouted 
 Haney. 
 
 "Stand steady, Len," said Dockery as he turned away. 
 "Now you're all right." 
 
 Haney, whose lankness gave him the appearance of 
 superior height, stood erect and defiant. A breeze 
 stirred his long hair. The signal was given. The two 
 reports were almost simultaneous. Len did not move. 
 Haney staggered and fell. Dockery ran to Len and, in 
 a voice not free from agitation, said: 
 
 "Come, let us get away from here. Don't go and look 
 at him; the remembrance will only make you feel worse 
 when reaction sets in. You have killed him. Come on, 
 I tell you!" excitably grasping Len's arm. "Damn it, 
 man, we'll be arrested for murder." 
 
 Len no longer hesitated. When Dockery pronounced
 
 LEN GANSETT. 25 
 
 the word "murder" the young man caught his breath 
 with a quick gasp; and, turning, he followed the editor, 
 who, with strides more far-reaching than graceful, was 
 hurrying away. 
 
 "I don't know wh'at to do/' said Len, catching up with 
 Dockery. "I am half inclined to give myself up/' 
 
 "Then you are just half a fool, that's all. Confound 
 it, don't you know that they'll hang you? Let's keep 
 close to the river till we get to your grandfather's place. 
 We'll stop at the house as if nothing had happened and 
 get a couple of horses. We won't tell -the old folks any 
 thing about it, but will manage to send the horses back 
 after we are safe. Geewhilikans, man, you are as pale 
 as a ghost. Let me take the pistol. I reckon the boys'll 
 take care of the other one." 
 
 "Dockery," said Len, when they had gone some dis 
 tance, "do you think I am a murderer?" 
 
 "Of course I don't think so," the editor replied; "but," 
 he added, in a tone of voke by no means reassuring, 
 "the law'll care devilish little for what I think. They'll 
 hold me as accessory before the fact." 
 
 Len groaned. He did more than that: he whim 
 pered. It was, indeed, unfortunate that he should, so 
 soon after arriving in the State, violate one of its crimi 
 nal laws. Every word Dockery uttered drove a nail in 
 the coffin of hope. The editor frankly acknowledged 
 that he could possibly have prevented the duel, but 
 swore that he could not bear to see a friend the grand 
 son of a man whom he revered grossly insulted. 
 
 Old man Gansett was standing at the gate when they 
 arrived.
 
 26 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "W'y, you've got through with your work mighty 
 soon/' said he. "I 'lowed "it would take you putty nigh 
 all day. Glad it didn't, though. Wife she's out visitin'. 
 Come in and rest your bones. Len, you ain't lookin' 
 peart. Anything ailin' you?" 
 
 Len, averting his face, replied that he wasn't feeling 
 very well. The old man was sorry to hear it. He had 
 hoped that his grandson would enjoy the best of health. 
 
 "None o' the niggers air about," Mr. Gansett re 
 marked as he opened the door, "an' we'll have a time all 
 to ourselves. Take seats." 
 
 Len grew more and more nevous. "Murder, murder, 
 murder!" rang in his ears. 
 
 "Well, if that boy ain't a sweatin' jes like it was July," 
 said the old man. "Ah, Lord, boy, if you sweat this 
 sort o' weather I don't know what'll become o' you 
 when we turn the moul' board to the co'n. Dockery, 
 have you. seen Mort Haney to-day?" 
 
 Len started. The old man continued: "His wife 
 was over here a while ago, ridin' the nag that Mort got 
 from Josh Meyers. She'd been visitin' summers. The 
 beatenest woman to gad about I ever seen. She said 
 that Mort was to come after her, an' she didn't know 
 what had become o' him." 
 
 Dockery replied evasively, and made a feeble effort 
 to change the subject, but the old man, paying no 
 attention to his guest's evident desire to introduce a 
 new topic, continued: "It's mighty sildom that any 
 body hears me talk about my neighbors; but I want to 
 say this about Mort; there's some mighty good p'ints 
 about him, an' then ag'in there's some not so good.
 
 LEN QANSETT. 27 
 
 When he gits a little licker in him he's as uppish as a 
 hen a-settin'. I have thought it many a time, an' now 
 I'm goin' to say it. If he don't mind, some feller that 
 ain't got no mo' sense'n he has '11 shoot his head offen 
 his shoulders. Don't you boys feel like eatin' a snack? 
 There's plenty o' col' viddults in the kitchen. I'll go 
 an' put it on the table." 
 
 "Oh, never mind," the editor expostulated, "We ate 
 something just before leaving the berg. We really 
 haven't time to eat, Mr. Gansett. The fact is, Len and 
 I have a little riding to do and we'd like to borrow a 
 couple of horses." 
 
 "Well, you air welcome to 'em, but you'll have to 
 wait a while. I sent a wagon-load o' corn an' wheat to 
 the mill this mornin', an' as I told the boy not to wait 
 if the mill was crowded, he'll be along back now putty 
 soon. Better let me fix you somethin' to eat. Len, ain't 
 you hongry?" 
 
 "No, sir, I couldn't eat a bit. I I" 
 
 "Just my fix, Len," said the editor, coming forward 
 with a well-timed remark, to cover the break in Len's 
 protest. 
 
 "Well, if you can't eat, you can't, that's all. Jest 
 excuse me for a minit, then, fur I do want to eat a 
 snack." 
 
 "Len," said Dockery, when the old man had left the 
 room, "we'd better pull out from here without waiting 
 for the horses. The first thing we know a constable 
 will be down on us. You'd better go and crowd your 
 duds into a gripsack." 
 
 "Are you going back after your clothes?" Len asked.
 
 28 LEN GANSETT, 
 
 The editor, sadly smiling, replied, "I brought mine 
 with me. I always go accompanied by my wardrobe. I 
 reckon, however, we'd better wait till the horses come. 
 My goodness, boy, don't look that way! Change your 
 face by the time the old man comes back, or he'll know 
 that something has happened." 
 
 Len had arisen, and was standing with his back turned 
 to the fire. His face was pale, and into his eyes, whose 
 wont was liveliness of expression, there had crept a 
 vacant stare. When the old man returned to the room 
 Len sat down, but took care not to expose his face to 
 Bob Gansett's investigation. 
 
 "It's mighty nigh time them horses was comin'/' the 
 old man observed as he peered through a window. 
 "That nigger's had plenty o' time to who's that comin' 
 in at the big gate?" 
 
 Len started from his chair. "Set down," said Mr. 
 Gansett; "it ain't the horses." 
 
 Len obeyed, and the editor, on whose face anxiety 
 lurked like November shadows, and who had also arisen, 
 sat down with a sigh of awful resignation. The old 
 man opened the door, shaded his eyes with his hands, 
 and said: 
 
 "Yander comes the gang. I'd know it a mile off. 
 There's Asa More, Andy Tillotson, and Rufe Malone. 
 Wonder why Mort Haney ain't with 'em? I reckon he's 
 gone down after his wife, not knowin' that she's gone 
 home. Halloa, gentle men, come in!" 
 
 Len sprang to his feet, but Dockery, with more pres 
 ence of mind and with more of a determination to meet 
 any crisis, forced him back into his chair. "Be quiet,"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 29 
 
 he whispered. "They have merely come to tell the olci 
 man what has happened, and they won't say anything 
 as long as we are here. They are pretty good fellows, 
 and will give us a chance to get away." 
 
 When the men entered the room with a decorum 
 which made Len shudder, and which called forth an 
 expression of surprise from old man Gansett, the editor 
 attempted to smile, hut the result was so barren that 
 Len's heart sank, if possible, deeper than ever. The 
 visitors sat down, and each one, unable to conceal the 
 depression which he felt, gazed into the fire. 
 
 Bob Gansett: "Boys, you don't seem in yo' usual 
 sperets to-day." 
 
 Asa More (shifting uneasily in his chair): "I ain't 
 hearn no complaint." 
 
 Andy Tillotson (clasping his hands back of his head 
 and stretching out his legs): "I don't know how it is 
 with the rest, but I ain't feelin' so powerful brash." 
 
 Bob Gansett: "I don't know how you feel, but you 
 look like you'd jes' come from a fun'al. Didn't see 
 nothin' o' Mrs. Haney a-ridin' o' the bay nag, I reckon?" 
 
 Malone: "I ain't seed her in some time, an' mor'n 
 that, I don't want ter see her soon." 
 
 More: "Kufe, ain't yer got no sense? Kain't yer 
 keep yer mouth shet?" 
 
 Malone (frowning): "I've got a right ter talk, 1 
 reckon." 
 
 Tillotson: "Yas, when yer talk right." 
 
 Bob Gansett: "Come, now gentlemm, what is the 
 matter? You talk like everything had gone to rack an' 
 ruin. Where'd you leave Haney?" I'll bet you was
 
 30 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 all carousin' together when he should uv' been goin* 
 after his wife. Set down, Len, an' you, too, Dock- 
 ery. Dog it, the old Mck 'pears to have tuck possession 
 o' you all. I was jus' sayin' a while ago that Haney 
 would ketch it one o' these days. I reckon you all recall 
 the day at Brannon's log-rollin'; you recolleck, don't 
 you, Asa?" 
 
 More: "The time when he punched Alf Settle with 
 a han'pike an' then 'lowed he'd shoot him? Oh, yas, I 
 recolleck it; an' if Settle hadn't er lacked sand Haney 
 would 'a' got it that day." 
 
 Bob Gansett: "He couldn't chunk everybody round 
 that way. He'll meet his match yit. Boys (addressing 
 Len and Dockery), I'll swear I don't know what makes 
 that nigger keep the horses away so long." 
 
 Malone, More, and Tillotson exchanged significant 
 looks. The old man continued: "Len an' the editor 
 'low that they want to take a short ride." 
 
 More (in an undertone, but not so low that it escaped 
 Len's ears): "A long ride, I reckon." 
 
 "What did you say?" Bob Gansett asked, putting one 
 hand behind his ear and holding his head to one side. 
 
 More: "I said that it was pleasant weather for a 
 long ride. I'd ruther ride now than any other time uv 
 the year. How is it with yerse'f, young man?" 
 
 Len (nervously): "I don't know." 
 
 More: "Never rid much, I reckon." 
 
 Malone: "It's putty nigh time he was 1'arnin'." 
 
 Bob Gansett: "Oh, he can ride, I reckon. He Till 
 otson, you are the nearest, wush you'd see who's that 
 at the door."
 
 LEN OANSETT. 31 
 
 Tillotson opened the door. Mort Haney stepped into 
 the roo'm: 
 
 "Great God!" Len exclaimed, springing to his feet. 
 
 Then there arose a mighty roar of laughter. Old man 
 Gansett took hold of the mantelpiece and laughed until 
 the tears gushed from his eyes. For a time Len was 
 speechless; but when he saw Dockery jerking like a 
 sainted negro in a trance, it dawned upon him that he 
 was the victim of a joke. 
 
 "All right, gentlemen/' said Len; "you may laugh as 
 much as you are a mind to, but rest assured that I am 
 the happiest one of the party. Mr. Haney/' he added, 
 shaking hands with the man who would "ketch it one o' 
 these days," "I am delighted to see you enjoying such 
 excellent health." 
 
 "No gladder'n I am," Haney rejoined. "A fighter 
 w'y, young feller, I never fit nothin' in my life never 
 hurt nobody, er haw, haw, haw!" 
 
 Every one laughed. Old Bob wiped his eyes and said, 
 "Ah, Lenqubees, I thought I heard a chicken squawl. 
 My son, don't try to tamper with your grand-daddy. 
 W'y, I've forgot mo' tricks then you ever knowed. I had 
 to work this one mighty sly, for I was afeerd Sarah 
 would find it out. Now, boys," the old man added, "I've 
 got a leetle o' the best ole co'n in the country, made 
 way up in Tennysy, where the hillsides air so steep that 
 they lean back. I'll fetch it out, fur on sich an occasion 
 we ken afford to dampen our whissuls." 
 
 The old man, still laughing, left the room, and the 
 men threw out their quids of tobacco. The old man 
 returned with a jug and several glasses. "There ain't
 
 32 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 no harm in a little o' this," said he. "I've heen hittin' 
 it moderate along all my life, an' nobody ken say that I 
 was ever drunk. He'p yourselves. Dockery, teteh it 
 light, fur you know yo' failin'." 
 
 "He never fails to tech it," Ilaney remarked as he 
 poured out a drink. Dockery took the jug, poured out 
 a glass nearly full, and, when he had swallowed the 
 liquor, said: 
 
 "Ah, this beats a blind tiger." 
 
 Len declined to drink, and the old man, though 
 pleased, remarked: "You'd better take a little for 
 sociability's sake. You needn't be afeerd o' it, fur no 
 Gansett was ever a drunkard." 
 
 "Especially those who never drank, anything." 
 
 "You are right, my boy; you are right," said old Bob, 
 as he colored the bottom of his glass with a small drink. 
 
 "Believe I'll join you, my old friend," the editor 
 announced, as he advanced again and took up the jug. 
 
 Haney: "When Dockery drinks it's like pourin' 
 whiskey in a rat-hole." 
 
 More: "Not exzackly, fur a rat-hole never gits 
 shaky." 
 
 Dockery: "Gentlemen, you may talk as much as you 
 please, but you bet I know what's good." 
 
 Tillotson (who had taken a "stiff snort"): "Tears 
 putty much thater way." 
 
 Dockery: "You needn't talk. Nobody can lay over 
 you." 
 
 Tillotson (with a quoatation from the southwestern 
 classics): "No, not if the cou't knows herse'f, an' she 
 thinks she do."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 33 
 
 The conversation borrowed vivacity from the jug. 
 Len felt no resentment, but with a thankful heart mused 
 over his recent trouble. To him it was not only a joke, 
 but a lesson; and, as the best lessons are the severest, 
 he cast thankful glances upon his grandfather, per 
 ceiving which, the old man perceptibly warmed toward 
 his grandson. By this time the editor and proprietor 
 of the "Picket" was "putty full," and Mr. Tillotson, to 
 say nothing of Haney, More, and Malone, was in that 
 state which enables a man to see two objects when he 
 should see but one. 
 
 Tillotson: "Dockery, how's the circulation of your 
 paper?" 
 
 Dockery: "Circulation why, blamed if I don't lead 
 the band. I begun a serial story wrote it myself some 
 time ago, and the circulation has doubled since then." 
 
 More: "How many 'scuse me (he had spit on Til- 
 lotson's foot), how many papers do yer throw out at a 
 clatter?" 
 
 Dockery: "Oh, I don't know how many. Fifteen 
 quires." 
 
 More: "That ain't mor'n two thousan', is it?" 
 
 Dockery: "It ain't? You'd better go to school an' 
 learn what a printer's quire is. Everybody in the 
 county except you fellows take my paper. Two thou 
 sand, the buck devil!" 
 
 "Gentlemen," said old man Gansett, "I don't want 
 to hurry you off; but Sarah'll be home putty soon, an' 
 I wouldn't have her see you all in this fix fur nothin' 
 in the world." 
 
 Tillotson: "Eight, old man, right. Wouldn't want
 
 34 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 her to see us. Ain't drunk, yer know, but don't want 
 her ter see us. Come, fellers, let's move." 
 
 Haney, in taking leave, put his arm around Len and 
 said: "Don't think I'd kill yer, do yer? Wuz ter see a 
 man tryin' t' kill yer, shoot's head off. Oh, I am thar 
 when it comes ter a row. Come on, fellers! Ole man, 
 much ableeged fur kin'ness, an' will try an' merit return 
 uv the same. Good-by, all han's." 
 
 "There ain't no harm in 'em," said the old man, when 
 his noisy friends were gone, "but they lack backbone. 
 Len, you didn't get mad, did you?" 
 
 "No, sir. I am so full of thankfulness that it was all 
 a joke that there is not, in my soul, any room for resent 
 ment."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 35 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE old man and Len were still talking of the joke 
 when Mrs. Gansett returned. 
 
 "Air you still a pesterin' that child?" she asked, as she 
 took off her sun-bonnet, rolled it up and placed it on a 
 small shelf over the door. "I declare, pap, it is a sin an' 
 a shame for as old a man as you air to carry on this way," 
 she added as she sat down. "It does 'pear like you'd 
 ruther pester a body then to eat the sweetest pie that 
 was ever baked. It's joke, joke, all the time. You 
 never ken set down an' talk like other folks." 
 
 "That's a fact, Sarah," the old man good-humoredly 
 replied. "I never talk like other folks because you won't 
 give me a chance; you do mighty nigh all the talkin' 
 yourself. I ain't pesterin' the youngster; that is, not 
 now. I had to pay him for makin' that chicken squawl, 
 an' I've done it. Lenqubees, we'd better tell her, fur 
 if we don't, an' she finds it out in any other way, we'll 
 have to climb a mighty tall tree and strain our eyes 
 'fore we ken see the tail eend o' it." 
 
 Then the old man, occasionally assisted by Len, gave 
 an account of the duel and the social affair which had 
 followed. 
 
 Mrs. Gansett did not listen patiently, but, aside from 
 exclamations of disapproval, she offered no serious inter 
 ruption until the old man spoke of bringing out the 
 jug. 
 
 "My sakes alive, pap!" she exclaimed; "did you let 
 them good-for-nothin' men git drunk in my house?"
 
 36 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Well, they wa'nt exactly sober when they left here." 
 "What made you let 'em drink here, say?" 
 "Well, I wanted to show Lenqubees that they ain't 
 men o' backbone. The mo' a man knows about his 
 associates the better it will be for him in the long run. 
 When a man's sober he makes it his business to hide his 
 natur'; when he's drunk he makes it his business to show 
 his natur'." 
 
 "That's all foolishness," Mrs. Gansett replied. "It's 
 all foolishness, an' you know it. It's jest an excuse for 
 gettin' folks drunk, an' you ought to be ashamed o' 
 yourself." 
 
 "AVhen did I ever git anybody drunk befo'?" 
 "That don't make no diffunce. The principle o' one 
 time is jest as bad as if you wus to do it a thousan' times. 
 Len, your gran'pap acks like he never did have to die." 
 "That ain't it, Sarah," old Bob replied. "I ack like 
 I know it 'an that I kain't he'p it. When the Lord calls 
 on me I'll go, an' not till then, an' I don't want to ack 
 like I want the Lord to hurry it up. Lenqubees an' me 
 understand each other now, Sarah, an' don't you fret 
 about me pesterin' him. How air they all over at Bra- 
 ley's?" 
 
 "They air as pore as usual," Mrs. Gansett replied. 
 "I declare I don't understand that fam'ly. Buck Bra- 
 ley 'peers to work hard anuff, an' goodness knows he's 
 as strong as a steer, but somehow they never have 
 nothin' in the house. The chillun air mighty nigh 
 naked, an' winter a-comin' on, too. I hearn while over 
 there that old Ben Hobdy is down ag'in with his rheu- 
 matiz. He's a-cussin' an' a-swearin', an' he ain't got a
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 37 
 
 stick o' wood cut, nor a mou'ful o' meat, nor a dust o' 
 meal in the house." 
 
 "'Nuff to make him cuss," said old Bob. 
 
 "N"o, it ain't nuther. It's anuff to make him pray. 
 He's liable to drap off at any minnit." 
 
 "By the way," said Len. "I met his daughter several 
 days ago. She is a beautiful child." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Gansett, "an' she's as kindhearted 
 as she is putty. She does all the housework jes' like a 
 grown woman, an' waits on her daddy jes' like he was a 
 chile. The old man never wuz much account, that is, 
 he hain't been sence his wife died. It makes my heart 
 bleed to think o' Ned. Pore chile! I took her some lin- 
 sey clothes t'other day, an' do you know that she was so 
 mortal proud that she at fust refused to have 'em? She 
 was, but I begged her an' worked with her tell she put 
 'em on. Well, I mus' go out an' see if Jane's got a fire 
 started. A nigger 5 !! funter round all day an' then not 
 git nothin' done. I'd ruther do all the work than have 
 my life pestered out of me about it. I'm goin' to put 
 this ole piece o' carpet at the door, an' I want you all to 
 wipe your feet when you come in. Pap would keep a 
 body busy sweepin' out the mud he lugs in. I had this 
 floor scoured yistidy, an' now look at it! Looks like a 
 passul o' hogs had been penned up in here. I'm goin' 
 to tell that editor to stay 'way from my house if he 
 kain't keep from gittin' drunk. His old paper ain't 
 much account nohow. Len, fetch in that big stick o' 
 wood out there. I don't want yo' gran'pa to lift it. 
 Pap, now don't you be in a swivit, fur we'll have some- 
 thin' to eat putty soon."
 
 38 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 V. 
 
 BETWEEN Dogwood and Oak Hill a station on the 
 St. Louis, Iron Mountain, & Southern railway a stage 
 coach line was in operation, the line over which Len 
 had come. The owner of the line, Colonel John Bently, 
 lived about two miles distant from the Gansett farm. 
 Colonel Bently, a few years before Len Gansett took up 
 his residence in the Abbott's Ford neighborhood, had 
 come from the East. He bought a farm, and shortly 
 afterward established the stage line. His house, upon 
 which some little architectural effort had been expended, 
 was, with its grounds of well-cultivated shrubs and care 
 fully kept trees, an inviting place. The outhouses were 
 neatly painted white. Guinea chickens cried "Pot-rack, 
 pot-rack" in the yard, and the turkey-hen, with her 
 long, graceful neck and bearing of meekness, reached 
 up and picked the blueberries from the stubby cedar 
 bushes. In the house there were many books, books of 
 adventure and books of philosophy. The colonel was 
 looked up to by every one in the neighborhood. He was 
 foremost in every movement for the welfare of the com 
 munity; he was charitable to an admirable degree, and 
 his flowing courtesy of manner and frankness of 
 countenance made even the most humble and ignorant 
 man in the neighborhood feel at ease in his presence. 
 He had never been married, and, with the exception of 
 the servants that found a home in his house, lived alone. 
 He was apparently about fifty years old, and wore a
 
 LEN GANSETT. 39 
 
 beard in which, one could catch silvery glimpses of com 
 ing age. 
 
 Len and the colonel soon became acquainted. The 
 young man felt proud of the attention which the colonel 
 began at once to show him. Never before had he met an 
 educated and wealthy man with whom he felt so free, 
 and to whom it was so easy to talk. 
 
 One afternoon Colonel Bently called at Bob Gansett's 
 house, especially, he said, to take Len home with him. 
 
 "You must stay all night with me," said he. "The old 
 people can get along very well without you one night." 
 
 "I am willing enough to go," Len replied. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Gansett, "for the pore child don't 
 hardly go offen the place." 
 
 "Grandma, don't pity me, if you please. You talk to 
 me as though I were a cripple or subject to epileptic 
 fits." 
 
 The old man laughed. His wife turned upon him 
 and said: 
 
 "Now, pap, what are you a-winkin' an' a-blinkin' 
 about? Kain't a body speak?" 
 
 "It pears mighty like a body ken," the old man 
 replied. "By the way, Lenqubees," he added, "before 
 you come home tomorrer I want you to go round an' 
 tell the neighbors to come over Thursday mornin' an' 
 he'p me roll logs. The dead trees in the lower fiel' air 
 fallin' with every win'. I'm goin' to set the niggers to 
 choppin' 'em in lengths right off." 
 
 "You have never seen a genuine log-rolling, I dare 
 say," said the colonel, addressing Len. 
 
 "No, sir."
 
 40 LEN &ANSETT. 
 
 'Then you should attend." 
 
 "If you should happen to come along at the right 
 time/' said Bob Gansett, turning to Colonel Bently, 
 "you'll find him there huddled up at the end o' a 
 han'spike, buckin' ag'in Mort Haney or some o' the 
 other fellers. Oh, I'm goin' tol'arn him somethin' 
 goin' to finish his edycation." 
 
 Len replied that he was willing to learn, and the 
 colonel remarked that if he could recall a few years he 
 could hold his own with the best of them. "Len," the 
 colonel added, "if you are ready, we'll proceed. Mrs. 
 Gansett, although I am not invited to the log-rolling, 
 yet I shall take the liberty of being present at dinner." 
 
 "Do, Colonel Bently; do, if you please," Mrs Gansett 
 replied. "We kain't promise you nothin' as good as 
 you'd git at home, but we'll give you the best we've got." 
 
 "Now, Len," said the colonel, when he had shown his 
 visitor into his library, "you must feel perfectly at home. 
 In my house there are no arbitrary rules to be observed. 
 If you are hungry between meals go to the dining-room 
 and get something to eat. When I was a boy I was made 
 so uncomfortable by formalities while visiting that I 
 even then resolved that if I ever owned a house I would 
 see that no uncongenial air came in at its windows; that 
 no cramps and twinges of restraint should lurk about its 
 hearthstone. You may sit in that rocking-chair, just 
 as you are; you may lie down on a sofa, just as I am 
 going to do, or you may walk about the premises. You 
 may make free use of whatever you see, may go to bed 
 when you feel disposed, and get up when you choose." 
 
 "Colonel," Len replied, casting a look of admiration
 
 LEN GANSETT. 41 
 
 upon the hospitable man, "there seems to be no limit 
 to the liberties which you grant." 
 
 "You should not regard such slight courtesies as 
 liberties, but must bear in mind that the pleasure of 
 your society outweighs, in my estimation, anything that 
 I may do to make you. feel comfortable. There are some 
 pretty fair cigars on the mantelpiece. Help yourself, 
 and hand me one. Thank you," he added, when Len 
 had handed him a cigar. "I have a match, thank you." 
 
 As he reclined on a sofa, with one arm under his head 
 and his eyes half closed, Len closely studied his face. 
 "He is the most perfect type of the American 'gentle 
 man/' young Gansett mused. The colonel looked up, 
 and Len, somewhat confused at being detected in his 
 close scrutiny of Bently's face, said: 
 
 "You have interrupted me in an agreeable con 
 templation, colonel: I was studying your features." 
 
 "Then excuse my untimely interference," the colonel 
 replied, with a smile. "You must also understand that 
 even my features are at your service." 
 
 "I was thinking," said Len, "how a man of your 
 experience and reading can find my society at all inter 
 esting." 
 
 "An absurd thought," the colonel laughingly replied. 
 "Why, don't you know that the old horse frequently 
 takes great delight in playing with the colt? In associat 
 ing with the young the old often catch the spirit of 
 youth. The young man helps the old man to think of 
 pleasant things. An old tree is grander when a sapling 
 grows beside it. Do you like books. Len?" 
 
 "I am passionately fond of books, but I fear that my
 
 42 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 taste is not very good. I prefer novels to the exclusion 
 of more healthful, and by far more instructive, works." 
 
 "You must educate yourself out of that; hut after all, 
 the right sort of a novel is not unhealthful. I hold that 
 the novel-reader is never wholly a bad man, for to be a 
 lover of novels he must enter into the soul of the work. 
 He must sympathize with the afflicted and rejoice with 
 the happy character. Some of the world's greatest 
 writers have been lovers of novels. Macaulay not only 
 read every good novel which the English language 
 afforded, but read novels in other languages; and to this 
 thirst for bright literature must be attributed his powers 
 of brilliant description. So, my friend, don't regret that 
 you have a passion for novels, but regret, rather, that you 
 have not also cultivated a taste for more solid reading. 
 Come in." 
 
 A negro boy entered the room. "Well, Tom, what is 
 it?" 
 
 "Mr. Honeycut is out on de po'ch, sah." 
 
 "Tell him to come in." 
 
 Mr. Honeycut came in and was introduced to Len. 
 Mr. Honeycut's hair was cut square off, with a pre 
 cision that would lead one to believe that Mr. Honeycut 
 regarded such a truncated fashion as a style which he 
 was compelled to observe. His eyes were small, with 
 just enough room between them for the upper part of a 
 very narrow nose. He had a tusk that lifted his upper 
 lip into a perpetual snarl, and his neck, covered with 
 red blotches, looked as though it might have once been 
 hung up with bacon in a smoke-house. He had not 
 taken the precaution to wipe his feet, and when he
 
 LEN GANSETT. 43 
 
 stamped upon the hearth, which he did upon entering 
 he scattered fragments of mud. He lived on Bently's 
 farm, and made a pretence of cultivating a tract of land. 
 
 "Wall, colonel," said Mr. Honeycut, "how's the worP 
 usin' yer?" 
 
 "Oh, I can't complain," the colonel replied. 
 
 "I didn't know that yer had hearn uv it?" 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 "The stage robbery." 
 
 The colonel sprang up from the sofa and exclaimed: 
 "Confound it, man, speak out!" 
 
 "Wall, I don't know much ter speak, but I'll tell yer 
 all I know. I was over at Dogwood about dinner-time, 
 an' hearn that the stage had been robbed. The driver 
 said that a putty good size sum o' money that wuz sent 
 sent down from St. Louis fur Masklin & Bros., the cot 
 ton buyers, had been tuck. The gear wuz cut so bad 
 that it wuz with differkilty that the stage could be drug 
 in. Martin, the driver, said that he would be over putty 
 soon an' tell yer all about it. One feller hit Martin 
 over the head an' bruised him a right smart." 
 
 Len could not help but pity Bently. His face, a few 
 moments ago so serene, was now streaked with lines of 
 anxiety. The stage-driver soon made his appearance. 
 
 "I kain't hardly tell how it come about," said he. "I 
 was kept at Oak Hill, waitin' for a train, and it was 
 mighty nigh midnight 'fore I left. Thar was only three 
 passengers, an' they give up all they had without makin' 
 a show uv fight. We was all tuck by s'prize an' wall, 
 I was hit over the head." 
 
 "Martin," said the colonel, "this is the third time
 
 44 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 within the past year that you have allowed your stage to 
 be robbed. It does seem to me that you should make an 
 effort" 
 
 "How could I, colonel, when I wus hit over the 
 head?" 
 
 "Let me see where you were struck/' said Bently. The 
 stage-driver removed a bandage from his head and the 
 colonel examined the wound. "It wasn't much of a 
 blow, Martin," the colonel remarked; "it wouldn't have 
 cracked a peanut." 
 
 "Oh, yes, it would, sir. It would have cracked 
 cracked two uv them." 
 
 "Martin," said the colonel, "I don't think that I can 
 trust you any longer. You are too easily robbed, and, 
 to tell you the truth, I don't know but you are perfectly 
 willing " 
 
 "Great heavens, colonel, don't say that! I've got a 
 wife an' chillun ter suppo't, an' ef what you've gist said 
 wus ter git out I would be ruined. I dunno but I'm 
 ruined anyway," he added with a whine. "I've driv' a 
 stage so long that I don't know how to do nothin' else. 
 Wife'll be mightily bothered 'cause you've turned me off. 
 Don't know" 
 
 "Well, well," the colonel interposed, "go ahead. No, 
 never mind wringing my hand. Mark you, now, that 
 I want you to take better care of my interests." 
 
 The driver, after many expressions of gratitude took 
 his leave. 
 
 "I'd like to see a set uv fellers rob a stage that I had 
 anything to do with," Mr. Honeycut remarked. "I ain't
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 45 
 
 much, on the fight, but nobody never took nothin' away 
 from me yit/' 
 
 "It is easier to talk than to act/' the colonel replied. 
 
 "Yas, that's so; but I wouldn't mine takin' holt uv 
 sich a job. Kain't give me a set, ken yer?" 
 
 "Not at present, Mr. Honeycut." 
 
 "I didn't know. Wall, I'll leave yer." 
 
 When Mr. Honeycut was gone, the colonel, with an 
 air of perplexity, walked up and down the room. A 
 negro boy appeared and announced that supper was 
 ready, but Bently heeded him not. Darkness came on, 
 but the colonel still continued his meditative walk. At 
 length he said: 
 
 "Gansett, you must excuse my abstraction. You 
 doubtless appreciate my position. Come, let us go to 
 supper/'
 
 46 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THERE was scarcely a word uttered during the meal. 
 Occasionally the colonel, giving himself up to thoughts 
 which "ciphered sums" of perplexity on his brow, would 
 lean back and fixedly gaze into the featureless face of 
 vacancy. When Bently and Len had returned to the 
 library the colonel said: 
 
 "Gansett, were you ever in trouble?" 
 
 "Oh, I have been in situations which I don't suppose 
 any one would envy; but I kon't know that, aside from 
 the sorrow incident upon the death of some one who was 
 dear to me, that I have seen real trouble. I can say this: 
 none of my stages have ever been robbed." 
 
 The colonel smiled. The "sums" of perplexity were 
 wiped from his brow. "I don't know," he replied, "but 
 that you are fortunate in not owning a stage line. The 
 school-teacher, the congressman whose home is in a 
 country town, and the owner of a stage line are not to be 
 envied." 
 
 "The owner of the stage line has one advantage," 
 said Len. "He can sell out." 
 
 "Oh," the colonel replied, with a shrug, "he has no 
 advantage over the congressman, for the congressman 
 can sell out." 
 
 "Yes, but the school-teacher can't. This makes his 
 position the most unenviable of the three." 
 
 "You are right, Gansett. There is nothing in store 
 for the country school-teacher. Yet the President's
 
 LEN OANSETT. 47 
 
 place is not more important. Heigho! I hardly know 
 what to do. It is almost impossible to catch those rob 
 bers. I can't do it alone, and the officers are not very 
 active. I'll have to offer a reward. This will stir up the 
 guardian angels of justice. There is in Missouri a band 
 of train robbers, and I am inclined to the belief that 
 they have opened a branch office in this neighborhood." 
 
 "And," Len suggested, "they seem to be doing a 
 pretty fair business." 
 
 "Yes, but on borrowed capital. ."Well, there is no use 
 in worrying over it. Gansett, I have learned a great 
 deal from your grandfather. He is a philosopher, if 
 there ever was one. If that man were to lose one arm, 
 he would congratulate himself that the other one had 
 been spared. I have never met a man the contemplation 
 of whose character afforded me more pleasure and pro 
 fit. His strong nature is set off by the gem of generous 
 forgiveness. There are others who would make life a 
 frown; he would make it a smile." 
 
 "Why," said Len, "you are trying to make a poem of 
 the dear old man." 
 
 "He is a poem, Gansett; hexameter, for you know he 
 is six feet." 
 
 The evening wore pleasantly away. The clock struck 
 eleven. A stick of wood in the fireplace broke in two, 
 and a cat jumped up with a sneeze of alarm. 
 
 "Gansett, your room is just across the hall. It is 
 ready for you at any time; you may sit up all night, or 
 go to bed, just as you like." 
 
 "Well, since it is left to me, I'll go to bed. Good 
 night," he added, arising.
 
 48 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 Len arose early next morning, and had gone out into 
 the yard, when the colonel joined him and said, "Gan- 
 sett, the dogs treed something over on the hill just be 
 fore daylight. Don't you hear them? Let us go over, 
 and if it is a 'coon we'll chop the tree down, hold off the 
 large dogs and have a fight. Here, Rogers," calling a 
 negro, "get an axe and bring it along. Did you ever see 
 a 'coon fight, Len?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Then you have been cheated out of rare sport. Come, 
 let us hurry." 
 
 They found the dogs "barking up" a large oak tree. 
 
 "Git 'im down, ole boys; git 'im down!" exclaimed 
 the negro, as he stuck his axe into the tree. "It's eider 
 er little 'possum ur er 'coon." 
 
 "Why a little 'possum?" Len asked. 
 
 "'Gaze er big 'possum ain' ap' ter climb er big tree. 
 Git 'im down, ole boys! Mus' I chop her down, cun'l?" 
 
 "Yes, go ahead. Let's see. Throw it out there in 
 that open place. Chop as fast as you can, and when you 
 get tired I'll relieve you." 
 
 The colonel relieved the negro from time to time, and 
 when the tree was about ready to fall Bently took the 
 axe and said, "Rogers, call the dogs and hold them until 
 the tree falls. Gansett, take hold of that large dog. 
 Don't be afraid of him. He won't bite you. All ready? 
 Here we go!" 
 
 The colonel dealt a few more blows with his axe. 
 Screak, snap, boom! The small dogs rushed into the
 
 LEN GANSETT. 49 
 
 waving "lap" of the fallen tree. The large dogs howled 
 and attempted to break away. 
 
 "Great Caesar!" exclaimed the colonel, springing on 
 to the stump; "turn loose the big dogs! It's a bear!" 
 Len turned loose his dog and took to his heels, but soon 
 regaining his presence of mind, and ashamed of his 
 fright, returned. 
 
 "Eogers," cried the colonel, "run to the house and 
 bring my gun. He'll kill all the dogs." 
 
 The bear had been wounded by the fall, and although 
 unable to defend himself with those cool and summary 
 movements of destruction so well known to canine 
 prowlers of the cane-brake, yet in a very few minutes 
 he had killed two of the dogs and had taught the others 
 to keep a healthful, if not a respectful, distance. 
 Eogers soon returned with the gun. 
 
 "Do you want to kill him, Gansett?" the colonel 
 asked. 
 
 "No, I believe not." 
 
 "What, wouldn't you like to say that you had killed 
 a bear?" 
 
 "Not a wounded one." 
 
 "Well, he has to die," said the colonel as he cocked 
 the gun. "It is impracticable, if not impossible, to give 
 him liberty, and upon this hypothesis he deserves death. 
 Here he goes!" 
 
 The bear rolled over, and the dogs, knowing that all 
 danger was past, rushed upon the fallen monster and 
 then fought among themselves. 
 
 "Eogers," said the colonel, "I forgot to tell you to 
 bring a butcher-knife."
 
 50 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I fotch one, sail." 
 
 "All right. You'd better stick the old gentleman, 
 and then get the mules and drag him to the house. It's 
 the first bear I ever saw in this neighborhood, Gansett. 
 I suppose he came out of the bottoms on a foraging 
 expedition. Well, let us go to breakfast." 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Len set out, as his grand 
 father had requested, to summon the neighbors to the 
 log-rolling. Every one was willing to come. Summon 
 ing a man to a log-rolling is appealing to his honor. 
 The most shiftless man in the neighborhood, the man 
 who cares not to work for himself, and the seat of whose 
 jean trousers are threadbare, is generally the best man 
 at a log-rolling. Luxemburg was feeble and sleepy in 
 a calm, but in battle his eyes flashed and his bearing 
 became august. In every-day affairs the leader of a log 
 rolling is lazy, and his words are uttered with a weak 
 and peevish accent; but when he steps upon the ground 
 where the handspikes are in readiness, his aspect under 
 goes an ennobling change: his voice is clear and ringing, 
 and, with a mathematical eye, he sees the weak point 
 of every log. Braley, whom Mrs. Garsett had said was 
 as "pore" as usual, was this sort of a man. Had he not 
 been included in the invitation, he would have been 
 grievously offended. In cold weather he was nearly 
 always out of wood, and during a sleet or snow storm 
 the near neighbors could hear the reluctant strokes of 
 his axe as he attacked saplings which grew within easy 
 reach of his house. His boys wore clothes too large for 
 them, and it seemed that his girls always wore winter 
 frocks in the summer and summer frocks in the winter.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 51 
 
 Braley's house, built of round logs, was easy enough 
 to find, not because it was built on an eminence, for 
 it was not; but because, if any one should be near, the 
 whooping and yelling of the children would attract 
 attention and serve as a guide to the place. When Len 
 Dismounted from his horse and entered the yard several 
 boys and girls, catching sight of him, uttered exclama 
 tions not unlike the sounds made by hogs when taken 
 by surprise, and scampered away. Some of them 
 "broke" for the stable, and others, unable to clamber 
 over the fence, crawled under the house. A gaunt man 
 came out of the house, and Len, introducing himself, 
 stated the object of his visit. 
 
 "Glad ter see yer, sir," said Mr. Braley. "Come in 
 ther house an' rest yerself." 
 
 Len accompanied him into a room rank with the 
 smoke of strong tobacco, and was introduced to a 
 scrawny woman with reddish hair. One corner of her 
 mouth was drawn down, having yielded to the constant 
 pressure of a "snuff stick." 'She was a type of the ner 
 vous and worn-out class of women so often found among 
 the poor people of the South. To such a woman 
 married life is slavery. She may have once been bright 
 and cheerful, but a few years of drudgery naturally saps 
 the cheerfulness from her life, and leaves, instead, 
 asperity of temper and whining complaint. 
 
 Mrs. Braley turned from the work of baking corn- 
 bread on the hearth, and said, "Set down over thar. 
 Take the other cheer, thatVll tilt back with yer. 
 Buck," addressing her husband, "why'n't yer drive that
 
 52 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 fetchtaked dog out? Don't yer see lie's got his nose 
 inta ever'thin'?" 
 
 Braley shoved the dog with his foot and meekly sat 
 down. 
 
 "Yer hain't been livin' yere long/' said Mrs. Braley, 
 turning to Len. / 
 
 "No, only a few weeks/' 
 
 "Wall, I don't see what anbody wants ter come yere 
 fur/' she replied, as she put a shovel of fire on the lid 
 of an oven. "It's a mighty pore place ter see any sort 
 uv en joy ment." 
 
 Mr. Braley sat twirling his thumbs. His wife con 
 tinued: "It looks ter me like the men in this country 
 don't do nothin' but set round from mornin' till night." 
 
 Len, attempting to lead the conversation to subjects 
 more pleasant, invited Mrs. Braley to take dinner at his 
 grandfather's house on the day of the log-rolling. His 
 attempt was not successful. 
 
 "Law me!" she replied, "I never go offen the place, 
 an* so fur as goin' is consarned, I'd jest as well be in 
 jaiJ, every bit'n grain. Is yer folks all well? That's a 
 blessin'/' she added, when Len had replied affirmatively. 
 "Ole man Gansett is a show fur ter see. A cricket ain't 
 no pearter'n he is, an' nobody ain't got no better heart. 
 Yer gran'maw, like the balance uv the women, is w'arin* 
 out mighty fast. Keep yer seat." 
 
 < No, I must go, as I have one or two other places to 
 visit." 
 
 "But set right down. Dinner 5 !! be ready in a jninit." 
 
 Braley cast a beseeching look on Len, and Len, think 
 ing that he understood his host, sat down. The woman
 
 LEN GANSETT. 53 
 
 drew out a table from against the wall and placed corn- 
 bread and fried bacon upon it. 
 
 "Draw up yer cheers/' she said. The men obeyed. 
 About this time the children began to make their ap 
 pearance. They scrambled with one another on the 
 hearth, each one struggling for the privilege of "sop 
 ping" the skillet. 
 
 Braley accompanied Len to the fence. "Tell the old 
 man that I'll be thar bright an' arly/' said he. 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "Say/' he called, as Len was riding away, "come over 
 some time an' we'll go huntin'. I'm the cap'n in that 
 line." 
 
 The day for the log-rolling came with a glow of 
 glorious sunlight. The air was keen, and the dogs 
 sniffed the frost on the dead grass and scampered in 
 glee. The men came early. Mort Haney, Andy Tillot- 
 son, Asa More, Eufe Malone, and several others were on 
 hand by the time the sun showed himself, but they were 
 all preceded by Buck Braley. Len, after seeing Braley, 
 had doubted the propriety of inviting him; but now his 
 doubt was turned into surprise. Braley walked with the 
 air of a conqueror, and his voice, so weak a short time 
 before, was vigorous now. Old man Gansett brought out 
 his jug. 
 
 "Good to take the cobwebs outen a man's throat," 
 said Mort Haney as he poured out a liberal drink. 
 
 "Hurry up with yer licker, men, an' le's go," shouted 
 Braley. "We're burnin' daylight here. Come ahead, 
 all han's! Ole man, better have a bucket uv water sent 
 out, fur we don't want no foolishin' atter we git thar."
 
 54 ZEN GANSETT. 
 
 Some of the logs were very large, and the strong men 
 tottered under jtheir weight. 
 
 "Put down yer han'spikes, men/' Braley would yell. 
 "Turn her over. Here we go!" 
 
 "Ken we walk with this'n?" Asa More asked as he 
 looked at a large log. 
 
 "Yes," Braley rejoined, "we ken walk with anything. 
 Slew her aroun', boys. Put chips under yer spikes so 
 yer ken ketch holt. Keady, all han's? Here we go!" 
 
 Len was lifting against Braley. ' The young man's 
 knees smote each other, and he was just on the eve of 
 giving up, when Braley, resting his handspike on his 
 knee, reached over the log, tapped Len on the shoulder 
 and said: 
 
 "Keep yer eend up, young feller. Oh, yer ken sleep 
 without rockin' ter night." Len made another effort 
 and was successful. "Now, men," shouted Braley, 
 "yerM better rest, while I go over yander and' skirmish 
 round a little." 
 
 The suggestion met with silent approbation. Endur 
 ance with the log-rollers was a matter of pride. 
 
 "Who's that a-comin'?" some one asked, as a horse 
 man came within sight. "Dinged if it ain't Parson 
 Murray, the circuit rider. Reckon he must've smelt 
 the pot a-b'ilin'." 
 
 Mr. Murry may not have "smelt the pot a-b'ilin'," 
 but the chances are that he had. He rode up to the 
 fence, stopped, spoke to the men, and leisurely threw 
 one leg over the horn of his saddle. 
 
 "Won't you light, Brother Murray?" old Bob Gan- 
 sett asked.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 65 
 
 "No, I believe not." 
 
 "Better git down an' look at yo* saddle," said Mort 
 Haney. "We're goin' ter open a kag uv nails an' wring 
 a dish-rag atter a while." 
 
 The preacher, smiling blandly, said that he would 
 greatly enjoy such an occassion. Just then the welcome 
 sound of the dinner-horn was heard. Braley, who had 
 returned from his skirmish, said, "Parson, we'd like fur 
 yer to ax a blessin' fur us at ther dinner-table. Uv co'se 
 yer nee'n't er eat nothin'." 
 
 "I'll see about the eating part/' Mr. Murray laugh 
 ingly replied. 
 
 "Come on, all han's," shouted Braley. "Let's eat an' 
 git back yere, fur we ain't mor'n half through yit." 
 
 The preacher dismounted, and, with his bridle rein 
 thrown over his arm, walked with the men. When Len 
 reached the house he found that Colonel Bently had 
 arrived, and, among several women who had come, he 
 found Ned Hobdy, the little girl who had so deeply im 
 pressed him. While the men were on the gallery, wash 
 ing their faces and hands, the girl approached Len, who 
 stood apart from the rest and said: 
 
 "Howdy?' 
 
 "Why, how are you, little miss?" 
 
 "Whut yer reckon I come fur?" she asked, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know." 
 
 "I didn't come ter eat dinner like yer think I did; 
 but I come just because pap said I could. Air yer glad 
 ter see me?" 
 
 "Yes, very glad."
 
 56 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I don't believe yer. Ef I wuz er grown lady yer 
 mout be, but yer ain't as it is. Do yer see this new 
 coat?" she said, shaking the skirt of a bright-colored 
 dress. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I made it myse'f. Ain't I smart?" 
 
 "Come on in ter dinner," shouted Braley. "Young 
 feller," addressing Len, "I'm goin' ter pull yer this 
 evenin'. YerM better git strength outen the pot."
 
 LEN Q&NSETT. 57 
 
 VS. 
 
 THE table, spliced with boards and "set off" with 
 many old dishes with blue rims, extended the full length 
 of the dining room. Some of the men put on their 
 coats, but the majority of them sat down in "shirt- 
 sleeved" disregard of appearances. Mrs. Gransett was 
 much worried by the cares imposed upon her, but then 
 she was never happier than when she contemplated her 
 guests in the act of "gorgin' their appetites." Colonel 
 Bently had sent a bear roast, which proved an attractive 
 feature of the dinner. 
 
 Colonel Bently (addressing Braley): "How are you 
 getting along with the work?" 
 
 Braley: "Fust-rate, con'l; fust-rate. Some uv the 
 logs air old residenters; but we kotch 'em nappin' an* 
 have put 'em whar they'll do the most good." 
 
 Mort Haney: "Oh, Braley knows how ter take advan 
 tage. It comes nachul ter him." 
 
 Braley (with due appreciation of the compliment): 
 "Bet yer life I do! Whut do yer think uv it, young 
 feller?" (addressing Len). 
 
 Len: "You seem to understand your business." 
 
 Braley: "Now yer're shoutin'. When yer wake up 
 in the mornin' an' find yer j'ints like rusty hinges, yer'll 
 be willin' ter bet that I'm ther cap'n." 
 
 Bently (addressing old Bob): "I am inclined to be 
 lieve that our friends will find Len to be much tougher 
 than they imagined."
 
 58 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Old Bob: "Let 'em go ahead. I never seen a Gansett 
 that was easily floored, an' I don't b'l'eve they ken do 
 much to him." 
 
 Mrs. Gansett: "Air you men tryin' to plague that 
 child?" 
 
 Len (with an air of embarassment): "Grandma, I 
 must protest against being called a child." 
 
 Asa More: "Ef he's a child, I'd like to know how 
 big ther men git whar he come frum. I'll take another 
 help ter that sweet-pertater pie, ef yer please. Not as 
 much as yer give me befo'. 'Bout half as much." 
 
 Eufe Malone: "Jest as well give him as much, fer ef 
 yer don't he'll ax fur mo'." 
 
 Braley: "By ther way, colonel, hain't hearn nothin' 
 frum the stage-robbers yit, I reckon?" 
 
 Bently: "No; as they have not furnished information 
 with regard to their whereabouts, the officers of the 
 law have not found them. The reward I offered, of 
 course, had a stimulating effect, but has resulted in 
 nothing but assurances that the rascals shall be brought 
 in. Honeycut, who seems to possess some of the unen 
 viable qualifications of the bloodhound, is still on the 
 track. He is certain that the leader of the gang is Steve 
 Grade, the Missouri outlaw. I don't know what reasons 
 he has for believing this, but reconcile it with the reflect 
 ion that if we believe nothing except that which is 
 based upon reason so plain that every man can see it, 
 we would indeed be an incredulous people. With regard 
 to one thing I have made up my mind, that if the law 
 will not give me better protection I shall discontinue 
 the stage line."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 59 
 
 Bob Gansett: "I hope, you won't do that, colonel, 
 for it would be a serious loss to tbe community." 
 
 Bently: "Then let those who profess to uphold the 
 law take that into consideration. No one should expect 
 me to go on in this way." 
 
 Len: "I share your opinion, colonel. If the law is 
 powerless to protect you, I would, if so situated, pro 
 tect myself, by withdrawing from an enterprise so full 
 of loss and vexation." 
 
 Braley (shoving back his chair): "Gentlewm, yer 
 talk may be mighty interesting but it don't roll logs. I 
 don't want ter hurry yer, but it's time we wuz a-gittin' 
 back down thar." 
 
 Asa More: "Oh, don't be snatched!" 
 
 Braley: "Talk's cheap, but it don't lift nuthin'. 
 Come ahead, gentlemenl" 
 
 The logs were piled and fired before the sun went 
 down behind a curtain of November gauze. The men, 
 when their work was done, sat around a blazing log-heap 
 and told jokes that had come from North Carolina many 
 years before. On one occasion Mr. Mangus Dockery, 
 editor and presumable owner of the "Picket," had pub 
 lished several of these jokes, having been assured that 
 the incidents related had taken place in the Abbott's 
 Ford neighborhood; and, several weeks afterward, while 
 searching his exchanges to see if any of them had been 
 copied, he became indignant upon finding the following 
 parapraph in a Tennessee paper: "An insignificant 
 sheet in Arkansas, limitedly known as the Ticket/ is 
 not content with clipping articles without giving credit, 
 but publishes as original old jokes that were brought in
 
 60 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 wagons to Tennessee seventy-five years ago. A driver 
 of a certain wagon, when asked where he got his load of 
 jokes, said that they were willed to him by his grand 
 father, who had inherited them from his mother's great- 
 uncle/' 
 
 "What air you men jowerin' about?" old Bob Gansett 
 asked, turning to Asa More and Eufe Malone. 
 
 More: "Nothin' in perticuler." 
 
 Malone: "Yas, it is sumthin' in perticuler. Asa 
 called me a lie an' I don't 'low ter put up with it, 
 nuther." 
 
 More: "Wall, he did tell a lie, an' thar ain't no use 
 ''n tryin' to crawl out en it. Said that his daddy come 
 ter this State befo' mine did." 
 
 Colonel Bently: "Well, what difference does that 
 make? In view of my own recent trouble I am almost 
 tempted to say that coming here did not reflect credit 
 on either of them." 
 
 More: "That's all right, but I wanter be put squar' 
 on the record. Rufe's been tryin' ter pick a quarrel 
 with me fur some time, an' now dam'f he kain't git it." 
 
 Malone: "Ain't been tryin' ter pick a quarrel with 
 yer, no sich uv a thing, an' yer know yer air lyin' when 
 yer say so." 
 
 Bob Gansett (with an air which Len had never before 
 seen him assume, but which was well known to certain 
 people in the community): "Hold on, boys, I don't 
 want no fightin' here, an' by the bones o' old Andy 
 Jackson, I won't have it! More, set down there!" 
 
 More (resuming his seat): "Jest as yer say, old man.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 61 
 
 Say, 'spose yer sen* fur yer jug an* let's have soom 
 licker." 
 
 Bob. Gansett: "Rot a drap o' licker do you get here. 
 When a row begins it's no time to handle the jug." 
 
 More: "That's all right. We was jes foolin' wa'n't 
 we, Rufe?" 
 
 Malone: "Yas, that's about all." 
 
 Gansett: "You fellers would make any sort o* ack 
 nowledgment now that whiskey is under discussion, but 
 it's better not to have any now. You air welcome to it, 
 boys, that is, so far as givin' it is concerned, but as 
 things have took an ugly shape you kain't git a drap/' 
 
 Old Bob's last remark closed the discussion, and one 
 by one the men sought their homes. Braley went to the 
 house with old man Gansett. When they had entered 
 the yard, Braley said: 
 
 "Ole man, I don't like ter ax yer, but I'd like ter have 
 a rnidlin' uv meat. We're out at my house, an' ef yer'll 
 let me have it I'll pay yer fur it in a day ur two/' 
 
 "Pay the devil/' the old man replied. "I don't want 
 no pay. You ken git all the meat you want. Come inter 
 the smoke-house an' pick out what you want." 
 
 Braley selected a "side" of bacon, and, carrying it like 
 a carpet-bag, took his way homeward. His battle had 
 been won, but the victory illumined not his brow lent 
 not elastic pride to his step. As he climbed over a fence, 
 or, rather, as he sat a moment on a fence, with his bacon 
 resting beside him, he was an ideal picture of sub 
 jugation, of a meekness which could feel no resentment. 
 When he reached home his children greeted him with 
 shouts, and one of the boys, whose appetite for the
 
 62 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "greasy" must have been keen, ran to his mother and 
 exclaimed: 
 
 'Top's got hog-meat." 
 
 Braley entered his house with the air of a man who 
 owes an apology. His wife shook out her knob of red 
 hair and snapped: 
 
 "Putty time uv day ter be gittin' home." 
 
 "Here's some midlin' meat," Braley replied, holding 
 up his treasure as a propitiation. 
 
 "I see it," his wife said, with a snarl. "Think that 
 all yer*ve got ter do is to work like a dog all day an' 
 then fetch home a little modikin uv meat. Dan's bar*- 
 footed, an' 'Liza ain't got no shoes, an' here yer stay 
 away all day." 
 
 They wouldn'ter had no shoes ef I hader stayed at 
 home, would they?" 
 
 "Oh, shet your mouth! I never seed the like on the 
 face uv the Lawd'ul Mighty's yeth. It do 'pear like ther 
 men is a-gettin' wus an' wus ercount ever 5 day. I wush 
 I wuz a man." 
 
 "Wush yer wuz," Braley meekly replied. 
 
 "Oh, shet your mouth! Yer doan' know whut you 
 wush. Fur the Lawd's sake!" she exclaimed, turning 
 in bewilderment, and contemplating the fragment of a 
 garment which one of the children held up in the door 
 way; "that fetchtaked, deternal ca'f has chawed the 
 sleeves offen my caliker coat." 
 
 "Wall, wall," said Braley, "we'll git anuther one." 
 
 "Who'll git anuther one?" she snapped. "I'd a like 
 ter see yer git one. I've been livin' with yer long time, 
 an' I don't know when yer got me one."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 63 
 
 "I ken tell yer. Las' Ginnywerry wuz a year ago." 
 
 ''Wall, it wuz give ter you. Oh, don't talk ter me, fur 
 yer ain't no 'count. Whut did yer have fer dinner ter- 
 day?" 
 
 "We had a b'ar roast, an' chicken pie, an' fresh hog- 
 meat, an' slice pertater pie, an' I don't know whut all." 
 
 "Yes, an' I lay yer stuffed yerse'f tell yer wus fit to 
 pop. Ole Buckley wuz here ter-day an' he wants yer ter 
 he'p him gether co'n ter-morrer. I reckon yer air glad 
 uv it, fer it gives yer a chance ter git away frum home 
 ag'in. I wush I wuz er a man." 
 
 "Wush yer wuz." 
 
 "Oh, shet yer mouth!" 
 
 There was one little soul that evening who went to a 
 dreary home, Ned Hobdy. She found her father sit 
 ting by a cheerless hearth. She brought in several sticks 
 of wood when she entered, and placed them on the fire. 
 The old man's face was darkened by pain. His hair was 
 bushed up in antagonism to all gentleness, and his 
 watery eyes snapped in anger: 
 
 "Whut ther he'll made yer stay all day?" he ex 
 claimed. 
 
 "Couldn't get erway no sooner, dad." 
 
 "Ther hell yer say." 
 
 "Dad, please don't cuss an' fuss," she said, approach 
 ing the old man, gently stroking his grizzly hair, and 
 pressing her beautiful face against his forehead. 
 
 "Wall, damn it, how did yer expect me ter git along?" 
 
 "W'y> dad, yer said yer rheumatiz wuz better, an' that 
 I mout go." 
 
 "Yes, damn it; but it come back to me."
 
 64 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Don't cuss, dad. Ther bad man'll git yer ef yer do. 
 Look," she added, taking up a basket which she had 
 brought, "here's a whole lot uv nice things Mrs. Gansett 
 give us. I'll set ther table an' we'll have er nice time." 
 
 "Is ole Gansett's nephew still thar?" 
 
 "Yas, sir." 
 
 "Proud as the devil, ain't he?" 
 
 "No, sir. He's jest as nice as he ken be." 
 
 "Yas, like hell." 
 
 "Dad, ther bad man'll git yer she- ef yer don't stop 
 cussin'. One time ther wuz a man an' he cussed an' 
 cussed. Ever'body tole him ter stop, but he wouldn't 
 do it. He'd cuss when he went ter bed an' cuss when 
 he got up, so, one day, the bad man came an' put a 
 chain roun' his neck an' led him away off down in the 
 holler an " 
 
 The old man laughed, and the girl sprang to his side, 
 seized him with a pretence of violence and kissed him. 
 
 "Wouldn't treat me mean, would yer, dad?" 
 
 "No, little precious, fur yer air the sweetes' thing in 
 ther worl'. I love yer " 
 
 "Thar now, dad," she said, as the old man began to 
 shed tears. "Jes cuss as much as yer wanter an' ther 
 bad man shan't have yer no, he shan't. Don't cry, fur 
 we're goin' ter have sich er nice supper, an' then I'll rub 
 all the pains away, an' then we'll be all right. Jes' set 
 right still now till I fix ther table. Here's some jelly fur 
 yer an' some* some ever'thing. That's a good dad. 
 Wait now till I fix yer cheer." 
 
 Eufe Malone was strolling along the road leading in
 
 LEN GANSETT. 65 
 
 the direction of his home when he was overtaken by Asa 
 More. 
 
 "Whut's yer hurry?" More asked. 
 
 "Ain't in much uv er hurry/' Malone replied, turning 
 and waiting for More. 
 
 "Joggin' towards home?" More asked. 
 
 "Yas, got my feedin' ter do." 
 
 "Wush the old man had give us some o' that licker," 
 said More. "I need a drink right now." 
 
 "So do I." 
 
 "S'pose we go on out ter Dogwood an' git some," More 
 suggested. 
 
 "Eeckon we ken make ther raise?" 
 
 "I think so. Dockery knows whar it is." 
 
 "I wouldn't mind goin', Asa, but I've got ter go home 
 an' feed." 
 
 "The stock ken wait tell yer git back. Let's cut across 
 here. Whut do yer say?" 
 
 "All right, I'm with yer." 
 
 They found Mr. Dockery in his office. The editor 
 was assuring a man that the debt should be paid im 
 mediately. "Wait till the mail comes in," said Mr. 
 Dockery. "That is, you needn't wait, for I understand 
 that the stage is late, but come round in the morning." 
 
 The man suddenly withdrew and the editor greeted 
 his friends. 
 
 "Who is that feller?" More asked, meaning the man 
 who had just left. 
 
 "Oh, he's a galoot," Dockery replied. "He's the fel 
 low that started a saw-mill about ten miles from here.
 
 66 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 some time ago. I owe him for some lumber, and he acts 
 like a crazy man." 
 
 "He'll be atter yer ag'in in the mornin'," said Malone, 
 "fur yer tole him yer'd pay him when the mail come in. 
 'Spect any money in the mail?" 
 
 "There might be some. It's missed so often that it 
 ought to hit this time." 
 
 "Anybody owe yer?" More asked. 
 
 "Let me see. Yes, one man in Little Eock owes me. 
 Yes, but I see that he's dead. Anyway, I might get 
 some money. To tell you the truth, I'm looking for a 
 registered letter. I don't know exactly who from, but I 
 feel as though one is on the road. It would be just like 
 some fellow to send me an advertisement with payment 
 in advance." 
 
 "Say, Dock," said More, "we didn't come to hear 
 about your prospecks, but ter see ef we couldn't mak the 
 raise uv a little licker." 
 
 "I don't know, boys, whether " 
 
 "Oh, yas, yer do know." 
 
 "Let me see. I know where we can get some stuff, 
 but I tell you now that it ain't good." 
 
 "It'll jolt a feller, won't it?" Malone asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, it'll jolt." 
 
 "That's all we want." 
 
 "Well, let's go then," said Dockery. "We'll have to 
 be sly about it." 
 
 Night had set in and clouds had blotted out the stars. 
 Dockery shuddered as he closed the door of his office. 
 He might have caught a glimpse of the spectacle which 
 he was soon to witness.
 
 LEN OANSETT. 67 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE three men went into the back room of a dis 
 reputable-looking shanty, kept by an old man whose hair 
 and beard were white with a pretence of honorable age, 
 but in whose eyes there was a twinkling squint, that 
 peculiar look and that sly snap which has never char 
 acterized the eyes of the truly honest man. The man 
 who sneaks around and gets a drink of whiskey at a 
 "blind tiger" may be an honest man, that is, he has 
 many chances in favor of such a supposition; but it is 
 a pretty well accepted fact that the man who keeps the 
 "blind tiger" is perfectly willing to take money and run 
 the risk of having it said that he acquired it in a way 
 peculiar to the methods of honest} 7 ". 
 
 The room in which the visitors were shown was dimly 
 lighted by a nickering candle, placed upon a bracket 
 made of a shingle and supported by a wooden peg. The 
 three men drew chairs up to a rough table and sat down. 
 
 "Who's doing this?" said the editor, placing his 
 elbows on the table. 
 
 "Oh, I reckon we air," Asa More replied. "I've got 
 a little dust summers down here in my sock. Here, old 
 man," addressing the proprietor, "fetch us some licker." 
 
 The old man held up his hands, and with a quaint 
 caper of caution hissed "S-h!" 
 
 "Wall, now, here," said Malone, "what's the use'n all 
 this tomfoolery? Yer know whut we come in here fur." 
 
 "Yas, I know; oh, yes, gentlemen, I know," the old
 
 68 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 man replied, rubbing his hands together as he approach 
 ed the table. "What'll yer have ?" 
 
 "Licker, uv co'se," said More. 
 
 "All right, gentleman, but we hafter be mighty quiet 
 about it. There's a lot uv fellers nosin' roun' fur ther 
 gran' jury an' " 
 
 "Oh, wall, give us the bug-juice an' don't talk," More 
 broke in. "We know whut yer're here fur." 
 
 The old man brought three glasses of whiskey and a 
 tin cup of water. 
 
 "Great Geehossiphat!" exclaimed Malone, as he put 
 down his glass; "this stuff's strong enough ter kill a 
 mule." 
 
 "You'd better look out, then," Dockery replied. 
 
 "An' now, here," rejoined More, "we don't want no 
 editin' bus'ness in ourn. Needn't think that 'cause 
 yer've got mo' edycation than we have that yer're bet- 
 ter'n we air." 
 
 "Don't think so, my dear fellow; don't think so," 
 Dockery replied, as he put down the cup of water. "I'm 
 your friend by the way, Malone, your subscription's 
 out. You told me some time ago that you couldn't get 
 along without the Ticket,' and you'd better renew. 
 What do you say, old fellow P' 
 
 "I don't b'l'eve I wanter sign fur it ter-day," Malone 
 replied. 
 
 "Oh, now, here," said Dockery, "you know that you 
 want it." 
 
 "Dang it, Dock, I ain't got ther money." 
 
 "I saw that you had three dollars just now." 
 
 "I know, but I am a-needin' uv that."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 69 
 
 "Don't need it as much as I do." 
 
 "That mout be, but I ain't perpared ter think as you 
 do/' 
 
 "Here," said Dockery, calling the old man, "repeat 
 this." 
 
 The old man refilled the glasses and Dockery said, 
 "Kemember this against me." 
 
 The old man muttered his disapproval of remember 
 ing it against Mr. Dockery, whereupon the editor said: 
 
 "Oh, now, here, you know I'm all right. You were 
 willing to trust me one time." 
 
 "Y?s," the old man replied, "an' ef I hadn'ter trusted 
 yer then I mout be mo' willin' ter do it now." 
 
 "Well, that's all right. We'll fix it. My regards, 
 gentlemen!" 
 
 "Dock," said Malone, "we had ther boss dinner ter- 
 day over at old Gansett's. Helped him roll his logs. 
 Fine time, I tell yer. Preacher Murray come bogin' 
 along jest about dinner-time. He didn't talk much at 
 the table, fep he kep' his mouth putty well stopped up 
 with viddles. I'd hate ter have as straung apertite as 
 that man's got an' not have nothin' ter dam her up with. 
 He's er rip snorter, as the feller says. Old man, give us 
 another dose uv yer pizen." 
 
 The old man, still cautious and nervous whenever he 
 heard a sound, filled the glasses again. 
 
 "Drink hearty," said Malone, as he raised his glass. 
 "I tell yer whut's er fack," he added, wiping his mouth 
 on his coat-sleeve, "they may say what they please about 
 licker, but it's a dev'lish good thing in its place. As the 
 feller says, we need a little somethin' to brace us up."
 
 70 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 "Yes/' replied Dockery, "man needs a stimulant, not 
 so strong as this stuff/' tapping the rim of his glass, 
 "but a little livelier than ordinary water." 
 
 "Gentlemen" said the old man, "I wush yer wouldn't 
 talk quite so loud." 
 
 "Damn it, what's the matter with you?" More ex 
 claimed. "Yer put me in mine uv er skeery hoss that's 
 allus lookin' out fur somethin' ter git skeered at." 
 
 "Wall, yer know they mout snatch me up an " 
 
 "Oh, let 'em snatch!" 
 
 "I don't say let um snatch," the old man replied. 
 "They snatched me wunst, an' I liked ter never got 
 outen it." 
 
 "That's all right," said Dockery, with an air of im 
 patience. "We'll not discuss it. I know, we all know, 
 that you run risk, but say, my old friend, give us a 
 little more of this stuff, and to-morrow I'll " 
 
 "Not another drap, Mr. Dockery, without ther 
 money." 
 
 "Oh, well, it's just as you say." 
 
 "Dock," said Malone, "Asa an' me come mighty nigh 
 comin' tergether ter-day." 
 
 "That so?" 
 
 "It's er fack," More replied; "but we made it up." 
 
 Malone: "As the feller says, Asa an' me couldn't 
 afford ter be at outs." 
 
 More: "No, bet your bottom dollar we can't. We've 
 been knowin' each other er laung time, an' our folks 
 befo' us knowed each other." 
 
 Dockery: "The strong ties which hold you together
 
 LEN 6ANSETT. 71 
 
 could not "be easily broken. What did you quarrel about 
 to-day?" 
 
 "Nothing but a piece uv foolishness. "We got ter 
 talkin' about when our people come ter this State, and 
 Asa called me er lie, an' then we jowered a little." 
 
 More: "Yas, I called him a lie, but we made it all 
 right atterwards. Fetch us some more licker, ole skin 
 flint!" 
 
 The glasses were filled again. The men were loud in 
 declamation. 
 
 Malone: "Any man that says I've got anything ag'in' 
 Asa is a damn lie." 
 
 Dockery: "I never heard any one make such an 
 assertion.'* 
 
 Malone (striking the table): "An', by God, nobody'd 
 better say it!" 
 
 More: "Nobody will say it, Eufe. Ever'body knows 
 that we love each other like brothers. Wy, dang it, 
 I'd fight fur yer quicker'n lightnin'!" 
 
 Malone: "Gimme yer han', ole podner." 
 
 More (grasping Malone's hand): "Put her thar. Yas 
 (turning to Dockery), we like ter fit ter-day; but yer see 
 hew we feel about it now." 
 
 Malone: "Like ter fit er about er damn piece uv 
 foolishness, too. Asa called me er lie an' " 
 
 More: "Yas, but, dang it, we made it all right." 
 
 Malone: "I know that as well as anybody does." 
 
 More: "Wall, then, let it drap." 
 
 Malone: "Ain't it dun drapped?" 
 
 More: "Don't 'pear like it has." 
 
 Malone: "Ther hell it don't,"
 
 72 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 More: "Yas, ther hell it don't." 
 
 Dockery: "Gentlemen, your quarrel has been ad 
 justed, therefore let us talk of something else." 
 
 More: "I ginerally talk about what I damn please, 
 an' I don't need no advice, nuther." 
 
 Malone (addressing More): "An' ef yer think that I 
 don't talk like I damn please yer're on the wraung road." 
 
 More: "It don't make er damn bit uv diffunce ter me 
 how yer talk." 
 
 Malone: "Wall, keep on a-thinkin' thater way an' 
 yer'll get slipped up on atter awhile." 
 
 More: "Oh, I know yer're ther sort uv man ter slip 
 up on er feller." 
 
 Malone: "Never slipped up on nobody yit." 
 
 More: "No, an' yer'd better never try ter slip up on 
 me." 
 
 Malone: "I don't have ter slip up on yer. I ain't 
 afeerd uv yer, Asa More, an' the sooner yer reckernize 
 that fack ther better it'll be fur yer." 
 
 Dockery: "Gentlemen, don't quarrel." 
 
 The old man: "I don't want no quarrelin' in my 
 house." 
 
 More: "It don't make er damn bit uv diffunce whut 
 yer want, yer've got ter take whut comes. Kuf e Malone, 
 I called yer a lie ter-day, an' I meant it too." 
 
 Malone sprang to his feet and exclaimed, "Take that 
 back, uv you'll wush yer hed." 
 
 More arose and said, "I take nothin' back. I ken 
 whup any uv the Malones ther best day they ever seed." 
 
 "Oh, sit down, boys," Dockery expostulated. "It 
 won't do to get into a fight here."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 73 
 
 "It'll do ter git inter er fight anywhar an' at any time 
 when er man calls me er lie," Malone vociferated. 
 "More, ain't yer goin' ter take that back?" 
 
 "No, I ain't." 
 
 "I'll give yer five minits." 
 
 "Make it five seconds." 
 
 Malone seized a hatchet that lay on a barrel and made 
 a motion at More. More "ducked" his head, and then, 
 with a terrible blow, Malone buried the blade of the 
 hatchet in More's head. A groan, and the man fell 
 dead. 
 
 "Great God!" exclaimed Dockery. "What have you 
 done?" 
 
 "I've killed a damn scoundrel, that's what I've done. 
 Let me outen here. Don't yer try ter stop me, ole man, 
 fur I'll kill yer in er minit !" 
 
 Malone rushed from the room. Dockery and the old 
 man gazed upon the horrible sight. A gust of wind 
 extinguished the candle. The two men could hear the 
 blood dripping from the table. The old man, after much 
 fumbling, lighted the candle. The murdered man was 
 gone. Dockery and the old man looked in amazement 
 at each other. 
 
 "Great Lord!" said Dockery, "what has become of 
 him?" 
 
 "It beats anythin' I ever seed," the old man replied. 
 "Even ef he'd been erlive he couldn't er got out with 
 out me knowin' it, fur I was standin' right here in the 
 do'. I don't un'erstan' it, I tell yer." 
 
 "Well, I'll swear!" said Dockery. "If a man had told 
 me that such a thing could happen I would have thought
 
 74 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 him a fool. "We've got no time, though, to investigate 
 mysteries. It is our duty to go and inform the authori 
 ties." 
 
 The town was soon aroused. The "blind tiger" was 
 ablaze with lanterns and torches. The place was search 
 ed, but save the blood on the floor, not a trace of the 
 murdered man could be found. 
 
 "You fellers air puttin' up a joke on us," said the 
 sheriff. 
 
 "I'll swear by all things holy that I saw More's head 
 split open with a hatchet, and I saw him lying dead on 
 the floor." 
 
 "Then why ain't he here now?" 
 
 "That is something beyond my ability to explain." 
 
 "Well, there's something mighty crooked somewhere. 
 We can't hold an inquest until we find the body. I 
 reckon you fellers had better come along with me," ad 
 dressing Dockery and the old man. "I'll have to keep 
 you in hand tell this matter is sorter cleared up. Now, 
 don't get excited, Mr. Dockery. Of course we don't 
 charge you with committing murder, but almost any 
 thing can happen in a "blind tiger." 
 
 "I'll give bond for my appearance," said the editor. 
 
 "I reckon not," replied the sheriff. "Affairs of this 
 sort ain't bailable, if I understand th law. I don't like 
 to take such a course, but I reckon I'll have to take you 
 to jail. Oh, yes, you'll go, Mr. Dockery. I'm your 
 friend, understand; but you'll have to board with me till 
 we understand the situation a little better. Come onP
 
 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 IX. 
 
 OLD Bob Gansett was foreman of the grand jury. 
 There is some difference between the foreman of a grand 
 jury and the foreman of a petit jury, for the foreman of 
 a petit jury is expected to know nothing, whereas the 
 foreman of a grand jury is expected to know everything. 
 Old Bob, with his characteristic energy, exerted himself 
 in behalf of Dockery and the old man who kept the 
 "blind tiger;" and, with an eye to exact justice, it was 
 his purpose to exculpate the old man from the suspicion 
 of complicity in a murder, and then indict him on the 
 charge of unlawfully selling liquor. When old Buck 
 the only name by which the "blind tiger" man was 
 known discovered this, he more than ever lamented 
 the fact that a murder had been committed, not on 
 account of the atrocity of the crime, but because his own 
 ungodly vocation had been exposed. 
 
 The sheriff arrested Malone. When found, Malone 
 was in the woods, chopping a saw-log; and when the 
 sheriff made known the object of his visit Malone stuck 
 his axe into a stump and said: 
 
 "Uv co'se I'll go with yer, Jim. This is all new ter 
 me. I left Dockery an' ole Buck with More, an' when I 
 left 'em More 'peared to be en joy in' putty fa'r health. 
 Me an' More have allus been fust-rate frien's, an' I don't 
 know why anybody should cuse me uv killin' him, still 
 I'll go with yer."
 
 76 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "That's tlier way to talk, Eufe. I don't believe you air 
 guilty, but I hafter have you all the same." 
 
 "I know that, Jim," Malone replied as he put on his 
 coat; "but it strikes me in er putty bad time, as I've got 
 ter git out er lot uv logs. Wai, I'm with yer." 
 
 The mystery was still as deep as ever. That a murder 
 had been committeed no one entertained a doubt, for 
 More was missing; but no inquest could be held upon the 
 supposition, even, though it was strengthened by the 
 blood in the "doggery." 
 
 "You kain't do otherwise than hold Dockery an* ole 
 Buck," said Bob Gansett, addressing the sheriff; "but 
 I am satisfied that they ain't guilty. Dockery wouldn't 
 kill anything but whiskey." 
 
 "I am of your opinion, specially consarnin' the whis 
 key," the sheriff replied. "I have thought uv a plan that 
 I think'll work." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "Wall, I have found the body." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Yes, found it in ther woods erbout er ha'fer mile 
 from here, buried in a hole whar a tree had blowed up." 
 
 "How do you suppose it got there?" 
 
 "I don't know, but somebody'll explain befor' long." 
 
 "What is your plan?" 
 
 "Wall, I'm goin' ter take Malone outen jail, asshore 
 him that he is at liberty, an' that we all b'l'eve him in 
 nocent, an' take a walk with him in ther woods, in the 
 direction uv the body. If he's guilty he'll try ter change 
 my co'se. Won't want ter go to ther place whar ther 
 body wuz buried."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 77 
 
 "Jim, I didn't know you understood human natur' so 
 well." 
 
 The sheriff smiled. "I don't know nothin' erbout 
 books/' said he, "but I know a right smart erbout men, 
 an' men wrote ther books." 
 
 The sheriff went to the jail, and, drawing Malone 
 aside, said: 
 
 "Kufe, we're all satisfied that you ain't guilty. Hold 
 on, you needri'ter thank me, thank yourse'f. Come on 
 out an' le's talk over this thing. I want you ter he'p 
 me sift this matter." 
 
 "Yer ken bet all yer've got that I'll he'p yer all I ken," 
 Malone replied. 
 
 "Oh, I know that, Eufe. You ain't never went back 
 on me yit." 
 
 "No, an' I never will." 
 
 "I know that." 
 
 They turned away from the jail and were soon in the 
 woods. The sheriff began to talk of his chances of re 
 election. Occasionally he would clutch Malone's arm, 
 and sink his voice into a confidential tone. Nearer and 
 nearer they approached the place where the murdered 
 man had been buried. Malone attempted to change the 
 direction of their walk, but the sheriff, enthusiastic in 
 the enumeration of his qualifications for office, contin 
 ued to approach the grave. Malone became nervous. Of 
 course the sheriff did not notice it. Malone stopped. 
 
 "Let's go over here an* set on that blowed-up tree," 
 said the sheriff. 
 
 "No," replied Malone, "I must go home."
 
 78 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Whut's you hurry, Eufe? Come on, I want ter talk 
 ter you about the Anderson boys." 
 
 Malone walked a few steps farther and stopped again. 
 
 "Come erhead, Eufe." 
 
 "No, I I" 
 
 "Look here, Malone," said the sheriff, as he drew a 
 pistol, "you know damned well what's over thar, an' 
 thar ain't no use in tryin' ter honeyfuggle me. The 
 sooner you own up the better it'll be fur you." 
 
 Malone trembled violently. "Own up," said the 
 sheriff. 
 
 "I kain't hide it, Jim; kain't do it ter save my life. 
 I killed him." 
 
 Malone was taken back to the jail. Dockery and old 
 Buck were liberated. Malone made a full confession. 
 
 "How did the body disappear so mysteriously?" old 
 Bob Gansett asked. 
 
 "That's easy ernuff ter explain," Malone replied. 
 "When I rushed outen ther room I went roun' ther 
 house ter lissen at what Dock an' Buck had ter say. 
 Jest as I peeped through a crack ther wind blowed out 
 ther candle. The mean whiskey had made a devil outen 
 me an' I had nerve ernuff ter do anything. Ther house, 
 yer know, is built erbout two feet offen ther groun', an' 
 I knowed that ther broad planks uv ther floor wa'nt 
 nailed down. I seed xackly whar ther body laid, an' 
 when ther light went out I knowed that I could raise 
 er plank an' drag ther body under ther house. I darted 
 under, an' ther idee worked like er charm. By ther 
 time the candle wuz lit ergin, I was draggin' ther body 
 frum under the" house. I am a good deal bigger then
 
 LEN o AN SETT. 79 
 
 More, so I wrapped my coat er round his read ter keep 
 it frum bleedin' on ther groun', tuck him up an' toted 
 him off, that's ther whole sum an' substance uv it." 
 
 Shortly after Dockery was released he approached Len 
 Gansett, who had just come to town, and, after cordially 
 shaking his hand, said: 
 
 "Len, I am devilish glad to see you, devilish glad!" 
 
 "They had you in a pretty close place, Dockery." 
 
 "Didn't they, though? The fact is, I wouldn't care 
 but for one thing: they've fooled around until I am 
 behind with my paper. My subscribers should not ex 
 pect me to get it out on time when I'm in jail." 
 
 "I should think not." 
 
 "But they do. Gansett, let me tell you something. 
 There is nothing in this world so unreasonably exacting 
 as a man's subscribers. They expect him to be a saint, 
 and at the same time be familiar with all phases of sin; 
 they do, damned if they don't. Now, sir, I'll lose at 
 least three subscribers by this transaction three, just 
 think of it! Say, Len, I'd like for you to help me a 
 little." 
 
 "I can't set tpye, Dockery, but I'll help you write." 
 
 "My dear boy, writing is but a small part of news 
 paper work. Any unprofessional can write. The bloom 
 ing school-girl and the gosling boy can write." 
 
 "Then, what do you want me to do?" 
 
 "Well, as the worst has come to the worst, I'll teli 
 you. Just now, when I went to the office, I found that 
 the sheriff had put a log chain around my press. Not 
 satisfied with restraining my personal liberties he must 
 strike one more blow at American institutions and ham-
 
 80 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 per the press. Why did he do it? I'll tell you. I owe 
 or at least he says I do an uneducated man the paltry 
 sum of twenty dollars for as poor a lot of lumber as you 
 ever saw twenty dollars. I assured him that he should 
 have his money; but, unwilling to give me a chance, he 
 took advantage of an oppressive law and locked up the 
 fountain from which the intelligence of this community 
 flows. Now, I say it boldly, too, that when an unedu 
 cated man a log-ripper can hamper the press, why, 
 then it is time for intelligent men to take action. Let 
 me have twenty dollars/' 
 
 "Dockery," replied Len, as he began to search his 
 pockets, "I have only eighteen dollars. You are wel 
 come to what I've got." 
 
 "The sum is quite sufficient, my dear boy, quite suffi 
 cient. I will pay the oppressor ten dollars, pay four 
 dollars on my office rent, and with the remaining four 
 dollars I will lay in a stock of paper. See that man?" 
 (pointing); "well, he's another enemy of printers' ink. 
 Ever since I started the Ticket' he has been an adver 
 tiser. In the last issue of my paper I thoughtlessly 
 placed another merchant's ad. above his, and, sir, he 
 'kicked' oh, he Tucked' like Adam's off ox. I wouldn't 
 have minded his 'kicking,' but he ordered his advertise 
 ment out. How do people expect a man to run a paper 
 when advertisers act that way?" 
 
 "You must have advertisements, I suppose?" said 
 Len. 
 
 "Must have, sir," repeated Dockery. "Why, sir, a 
 paper without advertisements is a pretence! I wouldn't 
 let such a sheet come into my house. Advertisements
 
 LEN GANSETT. 81 
 
 are the ballast, while the fading matter are the sails. 
 Without advertisements a paper flops and flounders like 
 a wounded fish does, damned if it don't!" 
 
 "Say, Dockery, is it true that Andy Tillotson has 
 been arrested on a charge of stealing a cow?" 
 
 "Well, the report is substantially true. Andy has 
 been arrested. Why, sir, if any man had told me that 
 Andy was a thief I would have disputed the assertion 
 with all the vigor of a strong nature. Do you know what 
 that fellow did? He headed my subscription list. He 
 renewed his subscription the other day; but now that 
 he's in hock I don't suppose that I'll ever get the money. 
 That's the trouble in running a newspaper, Gansett. 
 You never know when a subscriber is going to die or be 
 taken to jail." 
 
 "Why, don't you engage in other business, Dockery, 
 if so many ills attend a newspaper?" 
 
 "Len, it is simply this: I am not fitted for any other 
 business. When a man masters the intricacies of one 
 calling he cannot, in middle age-, turn his attention to 
 a calling with which he is. unfamiliar." 
 
 "How long have you been in the newspaper business?" 
 Len asked. 
 
 "Let me see. It will soon be three years since I be 
 came a professional." 
 
 "What had you followed previous to that time?" 
 
 "Law, Gansett, law; but I must say I did not like it. 
 Oh, law is very good for some people> the groove man 
 for instance; but it is obnoxious to the man who yearns 
 to break away to tear asunder dust-covered strings and 
 to soar among the clouds of grand gloom and sublime
 
 82 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 brightness. In law a man must linger in a starvation 
 state until some older lawyer takes him up. Then he 
 enters the office of the older lawyer, does much tedious 
 writing, does legal drudgery, and receives just enough 
 of the profits to enable him to have his breeches skilfully 
 patched. That's law, Gansett. I don't know how it 
 strikes other people, but it seems to me that a young 
 lawyer's coat can get slicker than a similar garment be 
 longing to any other man. The young doctor is pretty 
 hard to beat, but I think he must yield first place to the 
 young lawyer. Say, Gansett, come and take dinner with 
 me. I board over at that weather-boarded house. Come 
 on! Say, one word before you go. My landlady is a very 
 peculiar woman. She mutters about men that OAVC her. 
 Sometimes I think that she is losing her mind. Do you 
 know a move she's going to make. She's going to refuse 
 to allow me credit for my three days in jail. Yes, she 
 will do it as sure as I'm a living man; but do you know 
 how I'll get even with her ? I'll make her wait for what 
 I owe her." 
 
 Malone was speedily brought to trial. He attempted 
 no defence, only claiming that he had not committed 
 murder; that his action was impulsive instead of pre- 
 meditative. The facts as brought out by the examina 
 tion of men who had witnessed the quarrel at the log 
 rolling, and the facts as given by Dockery and old Buck, 
 tended to brand Malone as a murderer; yet, with unjust 
 lenity, he was only sentenced to a term of three years in 
 the penitentiary. The next day Andy Tillotson, con 
 victed of stealing a cow, was sentenced to a term of five 
 years.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 83 
 
 "Well, have you got through with that good-fer- 
 nothin' gran' jury business?" said Mrs. Gansett one 
 evening when old Bob and Len returned home. 
 
 "Yas, I reckon I am." 
 
 "I hope so," Mrs. Gansett replied. "It do seem that 
 thar's allus som'thin' to take a body away from home. 
 It's awful cold," she added as she shoved a dry board 
 between the logs in the fireplace. "I know you air mos' 
 froze. Len, child, put your feet out there an' warm 'em. 
 Bob, there's a hole in your shoe. Wall, for pity sake! 
 Jes look at it. Len, I had a visitor to-day, little Ned 
 Hobdy. It's foolish to say it, I know, but I would give 
 anything if that child was my daughter. I never saw 
 such a swee't child as she is. Jes' to think how she takes 
 care o' her father. I knowed they hadn't nothin' much 
 to eat in the house " 
 
 "Where have they got it to eat if they haven't got it 
 to eat in the house?" old Bob asked, slyly winking at 
 his grandson. 
 
 "Goodness gracious!" vociferated the old lady. 
 "Kain't a body say a word without bein' picked up? 
 As I was goin' to say, I knowed they hadn't much to eat, 
 so I offered the child a pone o' co'n light bread an' 
 some meat, but do you think she wanted to take the 
 vidults? I could hardly persuade her. Poor child, it's 
 a pity an' a shame that she ain't better off. Whut did 
 you fetch?" noticing a tin pail which old Bob had placed 
 on the table. 
 
 "We stopped by Mort Haney's," the old man replied, 
 "an* Miz Haney made me take a mess o' chitterlin's."
 
 84 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 ""Wall/' said the old lady, "I'm much, obleeged to her. 
 Did you thank her?" 
 
 "I don't rekerlect." 
 
 "You don't? Wall, for pity sake, Bob, have you lost 
 all your perlitness? Len, did he thank her?" 
 
 "Yes, grandma." 
 
 "Well, then. I declare to goodness your gran'pap is 
 gettin' so keerless that he distresses me. Bob, befo' I 
 forget it let me tell you that a fetch-taked dog scratched 
 a hole under the smoke-house and toted off a midlin' o' 
 meat." 
 
 "He must've been hungry," old man Gansett replied, 
 with another sly wink at Len. 
 
 "Wall, fur pity sake, Bob, is that all the thanks a body 
 gits fur tellin' you. Len, mighty little comfort a body 
 gits outen your gran'pap. Supper is ready if you have 
 warmed yourselves." 
 
 "Isn't it ready, anyway?" 
 
 "0 Bob, for goodness' sake, hush! Come on. Len, 
 light the other candle."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 85 
 
 X. 
 
 A DEEP snow, the deepest that many of the oldest 
 inhabitants had ever seen, lay on the ground. The air 
 was keen and crisp, and the sun shone as brightly as 
 though springtime had come. 
 
 "What," said Mrs. Gansett, entering the sittingroom, 
 approaching the fire and holding her hands over the 
 blaze, "you ain't goin' out sich a day as this, air you?" 
 
 Len had drawn on an overcoat, and was putting on 
 a pair of mittens. "Yes," he replied, "I thought that 
 I'd take a stroll." 
 
 "W'y, gracious me, you'll freeze! It's mighty nice 
 overhead, but it's awful under foot." 
 
 "Grandpa has been out nearly all day." 
 
 "There's no accountin' fur your gran'pap, Len. It 
 do seem to me," the old lady continued, as she turned 
 the churn around, "that he's been out in every spell o' 
 weather that has come along sense we was married. In 
 the spring an' summer he ain't satisfied unless he's drip- 
 pin' wet, an' in the fall an' winter he 'peers ter be on 
 tho'ns till he goes out an' gits mos' froze. Air you 
 goin' a-huntin'?" 
 
 "No, I am merely going out for a walk. To tell you 
 the truth, I thought that I'd go over to old man 
 Hobdy's. I have never seen Ned's father, and I am 
 curious to meet him." 
 
 "Wall," said Mrs. Gansett, as Len turned toward the 
 door, "you'll meet a Tartar, as sho's you're bornd."
 
 86 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Len, after receiving directions as minute as the old 
 lady could give, set out through the trackless woods. 
 He crossed the river on the ice, not foregoing a few boy 
 ish capers as he did so. He had climbed over a fence, 
 and had started across a "small field, when some one 
 shouted to him. He looked back and saw a man ap 
 proaching. 
 
 "You don't seem to know me with these trappings 
 on." 
 
 "I do now," said Len, extending his hand. "Colonel 
 Bently, how are you?" 
 
 "First-rate. This weather makes me young again. 
 Which way?" 
 
 "Thought I'd go over to old man Hobdy's." 
 
 "Better come with me. There's a turkey and a lot 
 of quail waiting for me, and I don't know that you 
 could do better than to come and share them with me." 
 
 "No, thank you, colonel; I have made up my mind to 
 go to Hobdy's." 
 
 "That's nothing. Come with me. I have just un 
 packed some old books that my grandfather, many years 
 ago, bought of an old second-hand book-dealer. Several 
 of them reach as far back as 1640. There is one partic 
 ularly in which you would find interest. It is entitled 
 'A Quiet Eest for Good Men's Souls, and a Terrible 
 Warning to Men whose Minds are Steeped in Sin and 
 Iniquity/ There are also several political tracts, one of 
 which, it is thought, was written by Milton. Now, 
 what do you say?" 
 
 "The temptation is great, colonel; but like the boy 
 who is resolved not to go to the brook, but, in spite of
 
 LEN GANSET'l. 87 
 
 all allurements, goes to Sunday school, I must keep in 
 the road of previous intention. At an early day, how 
 ever, you will find me handling your musty treasures. 
 Where have you been out this way?" Len asked, hoping 
 to change the subject, for, although he greatly desired to 
 see the little girl and her father, he felt that the per 
 suasive colonel, should he persist, might gain his point. 
 
 "I have been out to Dogwood. With more compas 
 sion for my horse than consideration for myself I 
 decided to walk. Horses in this country get along badly 
 in the snow. By the way, I will tell you why I went. 
 Honeycut sent me word that he had captured one of the 
 stage-robbers. This was, indeed, a welcome piece of 
 news; but when I saw the suspected man I was convinced 
 of his innocence, that is, so far as the robbery is con 
 cerned. I found a miserable, shrinking tramp, a fellow 
 with hunger enough to steal, but with not enough 
 courage to rob. He looked as though he were about to 
 be hanged, and when I gave him five dollars, and told 
 him that he was free, he looked at me in bewilderment, 
 burst into tears, and hurried away. So Mr. Malone has 
 gone to the penitentiary. The gallows would have been 
 more befitting. I suppose you noticed how lightly he 
 got off and how severely the law took hold of Tillotson. 
 It is nearly always the way in this country. The jury 
 looks with commiseration on the man who sheds blood, 
 but frowns darkly upon the thief. The leading men of 
 the country censure this; they condemn it in unmeasured 
 terms; but let a Northern newspaper affirm it, and they 
 denounce the paper as a slanderous sheet." 
 
 <r 5Tes," Len replied, "because they know that the
 
 88 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Northern paper does not speak of it in the desire to 
 bring about a reform, but uses it as a political lever. 
 The law is not enforced in the North much better than 
 it is in the South, Blood may be cheap in the South, 
 but in the North human life is sold at wholesale. The 
 rich proprietor of a great mill looks without feeling upon 
 the women and children who are wearing out their lives 
 in his service. He needs not say that he cannot better 
 their condition. He can well afford to pay them more for 
 less work. Does he help the poor consumptive who is 
 dying at his loom? No, he assists in getting up a charity 
 ball, which, after the expenses are paid, leaves but little 
 for the suffering widows and the starving children. He 
 assists in getting up the ball, not because he is desirous 
 of relieving distress, but because he knows that the 
 newspapers will praise his generosity. The fashionable 
 woman dances while the starving woman waits for some 
 thing to eat." 
 
 "Why, my dear boy," said the colonel, "you are get 
 ting very warm for a man who is trudging through the 
 snow. You almost make me think that we are in a 
 harvest field. Is not that a shock of wheat? Oh, no, 
 it is only a stump covered with snow. You observe that 
 my eyesight is not so good as it used to be. Ah, I have 
 made you laugh! I do not like to see you so serious, for 
 then you look like an old man. Leu, it is useless to 
 discuss the evils of our time. They are many, they are 
 powerful, and cannot be corrected except by those who 
 practise them." 
 
 "And to them," said Len, "we need not look for cor 
 rection."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 89 
 
 "You are right. Thank God that I have never op 
 pressed any one. Say, do not the people of this com 
 munity amuse you?" 
 
 "Yes, I find in them an interesting study/' 
 
 "I know you do. When I go to church, or any public 
 gathering, I am always entertained by what I hear. In 
 the city we find slang; here we find an expressive dialect. 
 I would like to know the origin of some of the words 
 I hear. The other day I heard Mort Haney in speaking 
 of striking a negro, say, ( I didn't faze him.' When you 
 think of it, 'faze' is an expressive term. Then, again, 
 there is the word 'momox/ meaning to execute badly. 
 The first time I ever heard it, Honeycut used it in tell 
 ing me that he had hired a negro to bottom a chair, 
 but that he had 'momoxed' it. Your grandparents use 
 many words that amuse me, but I notice that their 
 dialect is a little different from that of many of the 
 people. At first I did not understand the cause, but I 
 soon learned that it is because they are from Tennessee. 
 I am not sure, but I think that they introduced the 
 word 'momox.' I tell you this is tiresome walking. Let 
 us sit on the fence and rest a while." 
 
 They had crossed the field. Len turned over a rail 
 to knock the snow off, and the colonel, thanking him for 
 his consideration, climbed up and seated himself. 
 
 "Do you know, Len, that these people are now glad 
 that the war terminated as it did?" 
 
 "I have not heard many of them express themselves, 
 but I think that they are." 
 
 "They are, sir, without a doubt. They no^ know that 
 had the Confederacy succeeded in establishing itself
 
 90 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 they could have hoped for nothing better than social 
 slavery. They know that the slave-owner would be 
 supreme, and that a poor man would be looked upon 
 with contempt. If Congress should now grant to the 
 Southern States the right to go out of the Union, not 
 one of them would go out. Have you ever thought of 
 the lenity with which the leaders of the rebellion were 
 treated?" 
 
 "The history of the world furnishes no parallel," 
 Len replied. 
 
 "You are right, my dear boy. 'The man who leads a 
 rebellion against an established government,' says 
 Macaulay, 'stakes his life on the event;' but it was not 
 the case in this country. Do you know why?" 
 
 "Yes," said Len; "it is because th'e American people 
 are the most humane people in the world." 
 
 "You are right. Although I was born in England 
 came to this country when I was quite young yet I 
 agree with you. I believe that it was Carlyle who said 
 that a nation or people who borrowed its language from 
 another nation could never be truly great; but I differ 
 from him." 
 
 "The Americans did not borrow their language," Len 
 replied. "The men who left England and came to this 
 country brought their mother-tongue with them. It 
 was their language, and they had a right to leave it to 
 their children; so I think the English language is as 
 much the inherent right of this country as it is of Eng 
 land. Well, colonel," Len added, as he got off the fence, 
 "I must proceed." 
 
 "Won't go home with me?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 91 
 
 "No, not to-day." 
 
 Len left the colonel sitting on the fence. When he 
 had gone some distance he looked back, and saw his 
 friend reading a newspaper with as much contentment, 
 it seemed, as though he were sitting in his library. Len 
 experienced some difficulty in finding Hobdy's house, 
 but at length he unexpectedly came upon it. Ned was 
 chopping wood in the yard. Len climbed over the 
 fence and approached within a few feet of her before she 
 saw him. 
 
 "Wall, ef this ain't er come off," she said, throwing 
 down the axe. 
 
 "Why, my little girl, what are you trying to do?" 
 
 "Ain't tryin' ter do nothin'. Jes doin' it, that's all." 
 
 "Let me chop it for you/' said Len, taking the axe. 
 
 "Wall, but hurry up, fur ther fire is almost out an' 
 dad's got his pains bigger'n er mule. Yistid'y he walked 
 all er roun', but he's snatched ter-day." 
 
 "Now, let me take it in for you," said Len, when he 
 had chopped several sticks of wood. 
 
 "Wall, but let me go in fust, fur ef yer wuz ter s'prise 
 dad he mout cuss yer. He's the cussenest man yer ever 
 seed when he's got his pains." 
 
 Len followed the girl. "Dad," said Ned, as she step 
 ped into the room where the old man sat, "here's Mr. 
 Len." 
 
 "Damn Mr. Len!" roared the old man. 
 
 "Don't pay no 'tention ter him," said the girl, "for 
 he's got his pains. Wait till I rake up ther chucks an' 
 then put ther wood on ther fire. That's it," she added, 
 when Len had followed her directions.
 
 92 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Damn yer/' cried the old man; "don't kick yer foot 
 ag'in' my leg." 
 
 "I won't/' said Len. 
 
 "Wall, ef I hadenter throw'd out er hint yer would." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't. I am very careful." 
 
 "Yas, damn keerful." 
 
 "Dad, don't cuss. Mr. Len, ther bad man is goin't ter 
 git dad ef he don't look out. W'y, this mawnin/ while 
 I wuz out in ther yard he come erlong an' put his elbows 
 on ther fence, an' says, 'Whar's that man that cusses so?' 
 'He's dun gone,' I said, 'an' yer neenter come here airter 
 'im.' Then he wenter way an' hain't been back sence. 
 Mr. Len, set en this cheer, fur that'n'll spill yer." 
 
 Old man Hobdy looked at Len and said: 
 
 "Ned 'lowed yer wa'n't stuck up.'' 
 "Well. I'm not, I hope, Mr. Hobdy." 
 
 "Mr. ther Devil," said the old man, as he scowled 
 and with a jerk drew up one of his legs. "I don't know 
 whut yer've got to be stuckup erbout. Ef it wa'n't fur 
 yer gran'daddy yer'b be as pore as er June rabbit." 
 
 "Dad," said Ned, as she approached the old man and 
 put her hands on his head, "don't scold Mr. Len, fur 
 look at ther nice wood he fotch in fur yer." 
 
 "Who 'n hell's scoldin' him?" 
 
 "Thar, dad, fur pity sake don't cuss." 
 
 "Who could he'p cussin' when thar ain't nothin' ter 
 eat in ther house?" 
 
 "Yas, thar is, dad; thar's ther turkey. Oh, let me tell 
 yer, Mr. Len! This mawnin' when I went out ter feed 
 ther cow whut did I see but er gre't big turkey er settin' 
 on the low limb uv er tree. I knowd that dad couldn't
 
 LEN GANSETT. 93 
 
 shoot him 'cause he had his pains, so I slipped in ther 
 house, got ther gun, slipped out, put it on ther fence, 
 tuck aim jes' thiser way, shet my eyes an* pulled. Bang 
 went ther gun, an' then ter flop, flop, flop, ther old tur 
 key fell. I gethered him up an' fotch him ter ther house 
 an' scalded him an' picked him, an' I'm goin' ter cook 
 him, an' airter all that dad says thar ain't nothin' ter 
 eat in ther house." 
 
 "I didn't think erbout that," the old man replied. 
 
 "But he oughter think erbout sich things, oughtn't 
 he, Mr. Len?" 
 
 "I should think so," Len ventured to reply. 
 
 The old man looked at him with a fierce glance and 
 replied, "Yer don't know whut ther hell yer'd think." 
 
 "Thar, he's cussin' ergin," said ther girl. "Le's run 
 erway an' leave him, Mr. Len. We kain't stay with 
 people that cusses. One time there wuz er man that 
 cussed an' cussed, an' ther bad man " 
 
 "Damn ther bad man!" 
 
 "Dad, fur goodness sake, hush," she said, as she 
 smoothed back his hair. "Don't pay no 'tention ter him, 
 Mr. Len, fur I know his pains must be awful." 
 
 "Yer don't know er blame thing erbout it. Git erway 
 an' let my ha'r erlone," the old man vociferated. "Yer 
 air allus tellin' whut yer know, an' yer don't know 
 nothin' at last. Git erway." 
 
 She patted his rough cheek and then sat down. 
 
 Len looked at her admiringly. "You are a noble little 
 girl," he could not help saying. 
 
 "I don't know what that is," she said; "but ef you say 
 I am, I hope I am."
 
 94 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "Ned." said the old man, "take ther shovel an' throw 
 some ov ther coals on top, an' ther fire'll burn better." 
 
 "Bless me, I left ther shovel out yander!" I'll git it 
 in er minit." 
 
 She darted out of the house. The old man turned to 
 Len and said, "She left ther shovel under ther apple- 
 tree ther only one on the place whar her mother is 
 buried. When er snow falls Ned allus shovels it offen 
 ther grave. In ther summer time she allus keeps flowers 
 on the grave, an' yer mer go> thar right now an' yer'll 
 find pieces uv dishes an' bits of nice-lookin' pieces uv 
 rags whut ther neighbors have give her. In ther night 
 when it sleets she talks erbout it, an' I've knowed her 
 the coldes' night that ever blowed ter git outen bed an' 
 kiver that grave with planks. Confound this infernal 
 damned thing ter ther all-fired devil!" he howled, draw 
 ing up his legs. "Wush I wuz in hell." He writhed in 
 his chair and cursed. 
 
 "Can't you do nothing for it?" Len asked not know 
 ing what else to say. 
 
 The old man turned upon him with a scowl. "Do 
 any thin fur it!" he yelled. "W'y, damn your skin, do 
 yer think I'd set here in misery ef I could do anything 
 fur it! Yer talk like yer'd lost whut little sense yer ever 
 did have. Do anything tur it, ther devil!" 
 
 "I merely" 
 
 "Yer merely talk like er fool, that's whut yer merely 
 do." 
 
 "Now, dad, I'll fix it," said Ned, as she bounded into 
 the room. 
 
 "Wall, but confound it, don't shake ther house down."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 95 
 
 "Let me attend to it," said Len, as he took the shovel. 
 "How long have you had rheumatism, Mr. Hobdy?" he 
 asked, when he had thrown up the coals and stood the 
 shovel against the wall. 
 
 "How long has Adam been dead?" he ejaculated. 
 
 "Well," said Len, smiling at Ned, "the best authori 
 ties agree that he has been dead several years." 
 
 "Well, then ther best erthorities ergree that I've had 
 the rheumatiz ever since I tuck sick. Sometimes I think 
 that I wuz bornd with it. It strikes me all uv a sudden 
 an' it leaves me thater way. My legs don't swell none, 
 yer see. This last spell has been a putty tough one. 
 Arter while it'll hit my heart, an' then Ned can put 
 things on my grave." 
 
 "Dad, please don't talk thater way/' 
 
 "Wall, it will, an' whut's ther use'n gittin' out'n it. 
 Thar, it's easin' down. I tell yer, Mr. Gansett, it's awful. 
 Er man ken suffer tell he ain't ot no sense. Thank 
 God," he added, as he stretched his legs, "it's goin' 
 erway. Neddie, thar's some blackberry cordial up thar 
 in the cubbo'd. Give Mr. Gansett some of it." 
 
 "No, thank you," Len replied; "I never drink any 
 thing." 
 
 "It won't hurt yer, sir. Yer gran'maw made it." 
 
 "I don't doubt its excellence, but I do not care for 
 any." 
 
 "Then give me a swallow uv it, Ned. No, never mind. 
 I am well enough off without it. I am glad to see yer, 
 Mr. Gansett, an' I hope yer'll make yerse'f at home. We 
 ain't well fixed fur entertainin' uv comp'ny, but as yer 
 air not stuck up yer air willin' ter make 'lowances. Ned-
 
 96 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 die, dear, it's erbout time yer wuz gittin' suthin' ter eat, 
 fur I reckon Mr. Gansett is haungry. We cook an' eat 
 in here, as we hain't got no uther place." 
 
 "I'm not hungry," Len replied. 
 
 "Oh, but yer must eat with us," ISTed declared. "It 
 never would do ter let yer go erway without eatin' 
 nothin'. I'll cut off some uv ther turkey an' fry it. 
 Won't that be nice, dad?" 
 
 "Fust-rate. Mr. Gansett, thar hain't nuthin' like tur 
 key steak 'specially wild turkey." 
 
 "Dad," said the girl, as she took down a skillet, "I'm 
 awful glad yer pains have went away, for," she added, 
 with a mischievous smile, "the bad man wuz jest erbout 
 ter grab yer."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 97 
 
 XI. 
 
 As Len was returning home from his visit to the 
 Hobdys he came upon Braley, the leader of log-rollings 
 and active enterprises where collaboration is entered 
 into with such heartiness by accommodating neighbors. 
 Mr. Braley was in the woods near his house, chopping 
 down saplings. 
 
 "W'y, hello, Mr. Gansett! I didn't hardly reco'nize 
 yer," said Braley, as Len approached him. "How air 
 yer gittin' erlong?" he added when he and Len had 
 shaken hands. 
 
 "Very well," Len replied, as he held his hands over 
 a smoking fire which Braley had made. "Pretty bad 
 time to cut wood, isn't it, Braley?" 
 
 "It ain't ther bes' time in the worl', lemme tell yer, 
 'specially with er axe so dull that yer could ride ter mill 
 on its aidge. I woulder got upborne wood tuther day, 
 but I went over to help old Austin put up a stable, so 
 ther cold snap an' snow cotch me with my coat off. I 
 woulder chopped some late yisdity evenin* airter I got 
 back home, but I had ter go over to Dogwood airter er 
 ha'fer bushel uv meal." 
 
 "Ho, Buck!" called an ungentle voice. 
 
 "Aho, I'm er-comin'. He turned to Len and said: 
 "Wush yer'd git under one eend uv this pole. Wife she's 
 awful fidgety when she's in er hurry." 
 
 Len assisted him. "Now," said Braley, when the pole
 
 98 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 was thrown down in the yard, "I've got ter chop it up in 
 len'ths. Go in ther house an' I'll be in d'reckly." 
 
 "No, I don't care to go in. Haven't time." 
 
 "Better go in an' git er snack, fur yer'll be haungry 
 ergin yer git home." 
 
 Mrs. Braley, with a soiled rag tied over her head, 
 came out. She nodded at Len, turned and shook off a 
 child that clung to her skirts, and said to her husband: 
 
 "Hurry up, fur ther fire is mighty nigh out." 
 
 "Am er-hurryin' jest as fast as ever I ken." 
 
 "Don't 'pear like it. Mr. Gansett, won't yer come 
 in?" 
 
 "No, thank you; I haven't time." 
 
 Mrs. Braley slightly wrinkled her long, keen nose, 
 sniffed the air, and said, "Men allus have time. It's 
 ther wimmen that ain't got time fur nothin'. I know er 
 man that ain't got time ter git up er little dab a' wood 
 when he sees er snowstorm er-comin', but he's got time 
 ter go 'way from home an' piddle erroun' all day." 
 Braley looked reproachfully at her. She sniffed the air 
 and continued: "Ther good book may say that man 
 e'rhs whut he eats by the sweat uv his brow, but it 
 oughter say by the sweat uv his wife's brow. Fur pity 
 sake," sharply turning upon her husband, "ain't yer 
 never goin' ter git that stick cut in two?" 
 
 "Don't yer see that I'm hackin' just as fast as ever 
 I ken? Give er body time, won't yer? Ole axe is as 
 dull as er froe." 
 
 "Why don't yer grind it, then?" 
 
 "Whut's the use'n grindin' it when you an* ther 
 chillun take an' souse it in ther groun'?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 99 
 
 "Wall, ef we didn't use it thar'd be mighty little fire 
 on ther place." 
 
 "Wall, wall, fur ther Lord's sake, hush." 
 
 "Who yer talkin' to?" she demanded. "Til give yer 
 ter know that yer kain't tell me ter hush." 
 
 Braley did not reply. He threw down his axe, took up 
 the wood which he had cut and went into the house. 
 
 "Won't yer stay an' git er snack?" Mrs. Braley asked 
 when Len, bidding her good-evening, turned to go away. 
 
 "No, I thank you." 
 
 "Wall, yer needn't think we ain't got nuthin' ter 
 eat." 
 
 "I don't think that, I assure you." 
 
 "Wall, I tell yer whut I wush yer'd do: wush yer'd 
 tell yer gran'maw ter save me a settin' uv turkey aigs. 
 I had a fine chance uv young turkeys last spring, but 
 the varments got in amongst 'em an* took 'em boda- 
 tiously off." 
 
 "All right, I'll tell her." 
 
 "Whut, yer ain't goin'?" said Braley, appearing in 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Yes, I must go." 
 
 "Wait till I git in a little mo' wood an* I'll go with 
 yer." 
 
 "Yer*!! not do no sich uv er thing/' Mrs. Braley snap 
 ped. "All you study erbout is er chance ter git erway 
 from home. I spize ter see er man allus wantin' ter gad 
 erbout. Here I haven't put my foot offen ther place 
 fur nigh on ter six months, an' nobody ever tells me ter 
 go an' enjoy myself. I don't want ter hurry yer off, Mr.
 
 100 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 Gansett, but ef yer air waitin' fur him yer mout as well 
 go erlong." 
 
 Braley pulled his hat down over his face, took up his 
 axe, and with revengeful vigor attacked a stick of wood. 
 Len turned away, and had gone but a short distance 
 when he was overtaken by one of Braley's boys. 
 
 "Say, thar." 
 
 Len stopped and said, "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "Pap says come over ter-mor' an he'll slip erway an* 
 an* go er-huntin' with yer." 
 
 "I don't know whether I can come or not." 
 
 "Better come, fur he 'lows that he knows whar er ole 
 buck uses. Ef yer come, jes' stop out in ther woods an' 
 holler. Mur is in her tantrums, pap 'lows, an' don't 
 want him ter go. Comin'?" 
 
 "No, I believe not." 
 
 "Hain't got no flat terbacker erbout yer, I reckin?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "S'arch yerse'f an* see." 
 
 "I know that I haven't, for I don't chew." 
 
 'Tap 'lowed ef yer have, he'd like ter have some." 
 
 "Tell him that I haven't any." 
 
 "Wall, but when yer see him ergin don't tell him 
 that I axed yer fur ther terbacker, fur he mout furgit 
 that he tole me. Ef yer'll gimme er dog I'll come over 
 ter yer house some time." 
 
 "I have no dog." 
 
 "Then I'll slip off some time an' come over ter yer 
 house anyhow, fur when I wuz over thar wunst Miz Gan- 
 sett give me er gre't big hunk uv sweet bread, an' it 
 wa'n't sweetened with sorghum, nuther. Good-by."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 101 
 
 When Len reached home he found his grandparents 
 engaged in a religious discussion. The old couple were 
 members of the same church, hut in their established 
 creed there were points upon which they could not agree. 
 Mrs. Gansett, having suffered somewhat during the argu 
 ment, appealed to Len. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, grandma." 
 "W'y, my child, it is as plain as daylight." 
 "Then why does grandpa not agree with you?" 
 The old man rubbed his knees, a habit with him when 
 he meditated mischief. The old lady replied, "He won't 
 agree jes' because there is so much o' the fetchtaked red 
 mule in him; that's why. He knows that I'm right." 
 
 "No, Len, I'll tell you the way of it," said the old 
 man. "The Bible bears me out in what I say and yo' 
 grandma thinks that there is something wrong with the 
 book." 
 
 The old lady looked searchingly at him to determine 
 whether or not he were in earnest. The old man's face 
 relaxed not a line of its gravity; and then the old lady, 
 thoroughly convinced that he was not jesting, sorrow 
 fully said, "Bob, I do believe that you air losin' your 
 mind. You know jest as well as you know your name 
 that I am right. A man may git religion away from the 
 mourner's bench, but the Bible don't say that he kain't 
 git it at the mourner's bench. It grieves me to think 
 how far away you air driftin' in your ole age. I do 
 believe that you'd ruther frolic then to pray." 
 
 "I'd rather laugh then to cry," the old man replied. 
 "It's a pity that you don't cry mo' than you do, good 
 ness knows. I don't mine seein' a body in a good humor,
 
 102 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 but I don't like to see a body always lookin' out for 
 suthin' to snicker at." 
 
 "Better do that, Sarah, then to search 'roun' fur suth 
 in' to grieve at." 
 
 "No you wouldn't, no sich thing. The Saviour was 
 a man o' sorrow an' wuz 'quainted with grief." 
 
 "Yes, because His mission was sorrowful, yet with 
 all, He did not command His followers to mourn. He 
 said, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me,' and we 
 all know that little children are full of laughter. Some 
 times I think that the preachers would have us believe 
 that He wanted the children to come unto Him so He 
 could make 'em hush." 
 
 "Bob Gansett," said the old. lady, "ain't you ashamed 
 of yourself?" 
 
 "I haven's said nothin' to be ashamed about. Oh, 
 well, I was only in fun, Sarah," he added, as an expres 
 sion of tenderness cast a warm glow over his face. "You 
 know I wouldn't hurt your feelin's." He arose, ap 
 proached his wife, placed his hands on her silvery head, 
 leaned over and kissed her. She reached up and put her 
 arms around his neck. "I wa'n'n angry with you, Bob," 
 she said. "You know a heep better than I do, for you 
 have got mo' sense about sich matters." 
 
 "Nonsense, Sarah. You've got mo' real hoss sense 
 an' jedgment in one minit than I ever had in my life." 
 
 "I must get up from here and see about gittin' some- 
 thin' to eat," said Mrs. Gansett, arising. "That nigger 
 has been a funterin 'round in the kitchen fur two mortal 
 hours, an' here it is after dark an' we ain't got nothin' 
 to eat yit. I do know in my soul that some niggers air
 
 LEN Q AN SETT. 103 
 
 the triflin'est things on the top side o' the Lord'ell 
 mighty's green yeth. Turn me loose, Bob, fur I declare 
 I must go." 
 
 Old man Ganeett was much interested in "Bobinson 
 Crusoe." The book had been in the house during many 
 years, but not until Len came and took it down from a 
 shelf in the garret did the old man know what an enter 
 taining guest found shelter beneath his roof. After 
 supper Len took down the book. Mrs. Gansett was also 
 much interested, but she pretended not to be. She had 
 an idea that "Bobinson Crusoe" was an ungodly, at least 
 an "unchurchly," book, and sometimes, after becoming 
 so absorbed in listening that her knitting-needles ceased 
 their rattle, she would make recompense by suddenly 
 getting up and busying herself with turning the churn, 
 or hanging clothes to dry in front of the fire. 
 
 "Len," said the old man, "turn back there and read 
 again where Bobinson dug out that big cedar boat. You, 
 see, Sarah, after workin' days and days on the boat, he 
 found, when it was done, that he couldn't git it down to 
 the water. That convinces me that the whole thing is 
 true, for if it wa'n't he'd 'er got that boat down to the 
 water in less'n no time. I want to get the hang o' the 
 whole thing as I go along." 
 
 Len read the chapter designated by the old man. 
 "Now, don't you see," said Mr. Gansett, "that it's bound 
 to be a fack? Sarah, why don't you set down the're now 
 an' lis'n? You put me in mine o' a stray sheep, that 
 don't know which way to turn." 
 
 "We'll all be lost sheep if we fool away our time 
 with sich books as that 'un." the old lady. replied.
 
 104 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Why so? Simply because the feller ain't thinkin' 
 about dyin' an' ain't standin' 'roun' a-snufflin' ? It tells 
 about killin' goats, an' didn't Esau kill goats? Hah?" 
 
 "He wa'n't no better by it if he did/' Mrs. Gansett 
 replied. "But go on with the readin', Len/' she added; 
 "you ain't a-botherin' o' me." 
 
 "Ef I thought the thing wa'n't true I'd fling it be 
 hind the fire," said the old man. "But it is true, ain't 
 it, Len?" 
 
 "Excuse me until I get a drink of water/' Len replied. 
 He knew that if he told his gradfather that the book 
 was fiction the old man's interest in the work would be 
 gone. Old Bob, Len knew, denounced all novels as 
 vicious lies, and knew that this great work of the imagi 
 nation, side by side with "The Pilgrim's Progress" and 
 "Don Quixote," would, in Mr. Gansett's estimation, 
 share the fate of a "Sixteen String Jack." 
 
 "There are many truths we all know of many that 
 are not so reasonable as this book," Len replied, as he 
 resumed his seat. "We can dispute almost anything or 
 believe almost anything." 
 
 "That's what I say," said the old man. "Go on with 
 the readin'. Well, for goodness sake, Sarah, you ain't 
 goin' to card them bats to-night, air you?" Mrs. Gan 
 sett had taken down a pair of cotton cards. "Air you 
 determined to kill yourself at work?" 
 
 "A body has to have quilts," Mrs. Gansett replied, 
 "an' if a body has to have quilts, a body has to card bats, 
 I reckon." 
 
 "Yes, but you've got enough quilts to do you to-night. 
 Nobody's stold any lately, have they?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 105 
 
 "Oh, if you don't want me to card, I won't/' said Mrs. 
 Gansett, glad that she was morally forced to relinquish 
 her design. "Go on with your reading Len." 
 
 The old man sat with his head turned to one side. A 
 boy could not have listened more eagerly to a fairy tale. 
 All his previous reading had been dry discussions of 
 creed, the exhaustive and voluminous research of men 
 who knew how to fight for theory, but who knew 
 not how to touch that great fountain of pure relig 
 ion, the human heart. Mrs. Gansett resumed her knit 
 ting, but, after a round or two, she left one needle 
 sticking in her knitting "sheth," that old-time, grand 
 motherly contrivance made of a goose-quill and a bright 
 patch of velvet; and, forgetful of the duty which she 
 owed to the "Wages of Sin," and similiar publications, 
 gave herself up to genuine enjoyment. 
 
 "Hush!" said the old man, springing to his feet. 
 "What's that?" 
 
 A distressing shriek. Len sprang to the door and 
 opened it. 
 
 "Somebody at the gate," said he. "It's a woman!" 
 
 Mort Haney's wife rushed into the room. Her clothes 
 were torn and her hands were bleeding. 
 
 "My gracious! Miz Haney, what's the matter?" old 
 Bob asked before any one else could speak. 
 
 "0 Mr. Gansett Mr. Gansett' 
 
 "What's the matter? tell me!" 
 
 "Mort" 
 
 "Well, what about Mort?" 
 
 "Jes' now some men come ter our house, tuck Mort
 
 106 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 out in the woods an' hung him. Oh, for God's sake " 
 She sank upon the floor. 
 
 "Come, Len," said the old man, as he took down a 
 gun from a rack over the door. "Git the pistol outen 
 the top drawer of the bureau an' come on." 
 
 Len obeyed. "Sarah," said the old man, "keep Miz 
 Haney here till we come back." 
 
 "Grandpa," Len remarked as he closed the door, 
 "you'd better let me carry the gun. I'm stronger than 
 you are." 
 
 "Stronger the mischief," replied the old man. "I 
 ken fling you down the best three outen five. Le's take 
 this short cut. I don't know why in the world any 
 body's got anythin' ag'in' Mort, for he never harmed 
 nobody in the world." 
 
 "If I run on ahead, grandpa, I might get there in time 
 to save him." 
 
 "Yes, an' you mout get there jest in time to get shot. 
 Le's climb this fence." 
 
 They hurried along in silence. A screech-owl cried, 
 and a fox, bounding from a patch of briers, struggled 
 through the deep snow. The moon was shining 
 brightly, and the woods were illustrated by white spots 
 and dark shadows. 
 
 "Stop," said Len. 
 
 "Hear anything?" 
 
 "Thought I heard some one yelling. Yes; come this 
 way." 
 
 The cries became more distinct. "They are whipping 
 him!" Len exclaimed, as he rushed forward. The old 
 man could not keep pace with him.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 107 
 
 "What are you doing here!" exclaimed Len. Two 
 men, throwing down something which they seemed to 
 be using with much vigor, turned and ran away in dif 
 ferent directions. Len fired his pistol, and old man 
 Gansett, taking aim as though he were drawing down on 
 a deer, fired his gun. 
 
 "Didn't git him," said the old man. "So much for 
 small shot." 
 
 They found Haney tied across a log. "W'y Mort, 
 whut's the matter?" Mr. Gansett asked. 
 
 "Let's untie him," said Len. "I'll have to cut the 
 ropes. Now you're all right." 
 
 Haney arose to his feet, stretched himself, tucked 
 his shirt into his pantaloons, and, as he took up his coat, 
 said: 
 
 "Whew! This is the hottest night fur sich cold 
 weather that I ever seed. Got er chaw uv terbacker er- 
 bout yer, Mr. Gansett?' 
 
 Old Bob gave him some tobacco. Len could not help 
 laughing. 
 
 "Tain't much uv er laughin' matter," said Haney. 
 "My back feels like it has been run over by er ox cayart." 
 
 "Whut does it all mean?" old Bob asked. He was 
 leaning against a tree and was holding his sides. 
 
 "Wait tell yer get through with yer fun, gentlemen, 
 an' I'll ter yer," Haney replied. "Yer ack like yer wuz 
 at er show. How did yer find out I wa'n't enjoyin' ther 
 best uv health?" 
 
 "Your wife told us," old Bob replied. "She's at my 
 house now, an' I reckon we'd all better go there. Come 
 ahead!"
 
 108 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Ef I find out who my comp'ny wuz ter-night, some 
 body's goin' ter be too sick ter eat melasses," said Haney, 
 as he walked along between old Bob and Len. "I hadn't 
 quite got through my supper when somebody hollered 
 at ther gate. I thought it wuz somebody that wanted 
 ter stay all night, an' I went out. 'Bout ther time I got 
 ter ther gate, er feller grabbed my arms from behine, an' 
 jes' then some other feller flung er rope over me, an' 
 then they both tied me. My wife she seed 'em erbout 
 this time, I reckon, but she wuz too sharp ter run out 
 whar they wuz. They had suthin' over ther faces, an' I 
 coul'n't tell who they wuz. When they took me out in 
 ther woods they tied me ercross er laug an' wanted ter 
 know ef I'd leave ther country ef they'd let me off? I 
 wa'n't prepared ter leave ther country jes' then, fur I 
 wa'n't quite dun eatin' supper, so I told 'em we'd better 
 argy erwhile. Well, we argyed. They talked hoarse so's 
 I couldn't reckognize ther voices, an' it peered aimer 
 'while that they had got ther best uv it, fur they 'gun 
 ter cut some switches ter larrup me with. Wall, they 
 had 'gun ter warm up ter ther work, an' I had 'gun ter 
 git putty tired, when I heard suthin' go off, an' then I 
 wuz untied. They cut ther blood outen me; but never 
 mine, thar's anuther night er-comin'. Ther worl' wa'n't 
 made in er day." 
 
 "I didn't know that anybody had anything ag'in you, 
 Mort," said the old man. 
 
 "Nuther did I; but it 'peers like they have. I never 
 done nobody no harm that I know uv. While them fel 
 lers wud er-whuppin' me I Towed ter myse'f that it wuz 
 er good thing I didn't have no c.hillun, fur ef I had they
 
 LEN GANSETT. 109 
 
 mout git skeered an' set up er yell. 'Bout that time I 
 could do ernuff yellin' fur er whole neighborhood. Er 
 man don't know how loud he ken yell tell he gits a 
 fa'r chance." 
 
 When they reached Gansett's house Mrs. Haney 
 fainted. When she "came to," which she did after the 
 application of remedies which Mrs. Gansett seemed to 
 have produced by magic, Haney said, "Thar, now, set 
 up here. 'Peers like I smell whiskey. Wouldn't mine 
 takin' a snort merse'f." Mrs. Gansett brought a bottle 
 and a glass. "Don't be afraid uv pourin' out too much," 
 said he. "Ah, this is fine," he added, when he had 
 swallowed the whiskey. "B'Peve I'll go an' tell them 
 fellers to come back an' whup me some mo'." 
 
 "Mort, yer oughter be ershamed," said Mrs. Haney. 
 
 "Whut good would that do? Folks are allus sayin* 
 that er man oughter be ershamed when thar ain't no 
 purticuler use uv it. I don't understand why anybody 
 wants ter whup me," he added, as he shrugged his 
 shoulders. "Some folks may not think it hurts, but I 
 oughter know, fur it 'peers ter me like I've been thar. 
 Puts me in mine uv when I wuz er boy an' had the sun 
 blister my back when I went in er-washin'. Say, ef it 
 ain't unperlite, I wush some uv yer would look at my 
 back." 
 
 He took off his coat. His shirt was red with blood. 
 "Look out," he said to his wife. "Lift it easy, fur ther 
 shirt's stuck ter me." 
 
 "My gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Gansett; "the man is 
 cut all to pieces. Let me go an' get some cold cream an*
 
 HO LEN GANSETT. 
 
 put on it. Well, fur pity sake, whut merciless wretches 
 they must 've been!" 
 
 "Never mind/' said Haney; "I'll git even when I find 
 out who it was. Thar's a passul uv fellers in this here 
 neighborhood that's got inter ther habit uv goin' roun' 
 an' whuppin' folks, but thar's comin' er time when 
 they'll hear sunthin' that won't soun' like er pian'. I 
 ain't er man ter growl an' cry over er thing that's hap 
 pened; but mark whut I tell yer, somebody's goin' ter git 
 it whar it'll do ther most good. That sorter feels like 
 it," he added, when Mrs. Gansett began to apply the 
 cold cream. "Gimme my coat. Now, le's go home," 
 he added, addressing his wife. "I'm er million times 
 obleeged fur whut yer've all done fur me. I hope them 
 fellers'll come back ter-night. Ef they do, cold cream 
 won't do 'em much good. It'll take salt, an' er heap 
 uv it, ter keep 'em from sp'ilin'. Wall, good-night, all 
 han's!"
 
 LEN OANSETT. 
 
 XII. 
 
 "WHY, my dear boy, I am glad to see yon," said 
 Colonel Bently, as he opened the gate for Len. "Walk 
 in and at once proceed to make yourself at home. All 
 well?" he added, as he and Len shook hands. 
 
 "As well as usual," Len replied. 
 
 "Good: The thaw makes the roads pretty heavy, I 
 see. Come this way." 
 
 They went into the library, a room inviting to any 
 one who regarded books as congenial companions. 
 
 "You have been at work, I see," said Len, as he 
 glanced at several sheets of manuscript which were lying 
 on a table. 
 
 "Yes," the colonel replied, "I have been trying to 
 grind out something for a paper printed in a town where 
 I used to live. To me my pen is amusing, but not 
 remunerative. At one time I had hopes of becoming 
 an author, but after receiving many slaps at the hands 
 of publishers I wisely decided that I was not intended 
 to be a writer." 
 
 "Do you not suppose that you would have succeeded 
 had you persisted?" Len asked. 
 
 "I think not," the colonel replied. "I had a double 
 charge of ambition, but somehow I had not that deft 
 touch which cultivation of ten fails to impart, and without 
 which no man can be a successful writer. I had not the 
 knack of moving characters. I could picture them well 
 enough, but when they spoke they lost what little nat-
 
 112 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 uralness I had been able to give them. Have you ever 
 written any, Gansett?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Len replied. "I once wrote a story for 
 'Scribner's.' " 
 
 "You don't tell me/' 
 
 "Yes; but it was not printed in that magazine." 
 
 "Oh, I see," said the colonel, laughing. "You doubt 
 less had the forethought to enclose stamps for the return 
 of the manuscript." 
 
 "Yes, I thought that the editor might want to open 
 up a correspondence with me. The correspondence, 
 however, was very brief. It was of a general nature, 
 so general, in fact, that it was printed on a slip of paper. 
 I was sorry for the editor, for I felt that he did not know 
 what he was losing. I sent the story to 'Harper's.' It 
 came back. 'Magazine editors,' I said to myself, 'are 
 peculiarly stupid this year.' I sent it to several news 
 papers, and at last I took it to an editor who published 
 a country paper, a sheet something like the Ticket.' 
 The editor said that he was rushed, but that if I would 
 pay a tramp printer; who happened to be on hand it 
 should appear, as Dickens would express it, in all the 
 glory of print. I had only seventy-five cents. The 
 printer agreed, for that sum, to undertake the enter 
 prise. I stood near him, expecting to hear a compli 
 mentary ejaculation. When I stepped back to get a 
 drink of water, the editor, who. had scarcely looked at 
 the story, asked the printer what he thought of it. 
 The ungrateful type-setter replied that it was an average 
 quality of hog-wash. I presume that somebody must 
 have read the story, but no one ever spoke to me with
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 113 
 
 regard to it. I was certain that it would increase the 
 circulation of the paper; but several weeks afterward, 
 when the sheet suspended, I decided that it had not. 
 Since then I have done but little writing for publi 
 cation." 
 
 "You should not stop," said the colonel. "I believe 
 that if you would take the characters which we see every 
 day in this neighborhood, draw them just as they are, 
 and weave them into a story, that it would be a success. 
 Come in." Some one had rapped on the door. Mr. 
 Honeycut entered. "How are you?" said the colonel. 
 "You know Gansett. Sit down." 
 
 Mr. Honeycut seated himself, squirted a stream of 
 tobacco-juice into the fire, stretched out his legs, struck 
 his heels together, scattered mud and snow on the 
 hearth, and said: 
 
 "Sorter saft outside." 
 
 "It seems to be," the colonel replied, glancing at the 
 mud on the hearth. 
 
 "Yas," Honeycut continued; "thought I never would 
 git through Beasley's lane. Haven't seed Mort Haney 
 sense he wuz whupped, I reckon?" 
 
 "No," the colonel replied. "Wonder if he has any 
 idea who- committed the outrage?" 
 
 "Not fur shore. I passed his house jest now an' wuz 
 taikin' with him, an' he 'lowed that he wuz nosin' 'round 
 an' would drap on somebody unbeknowin's. Oh, Mort's 
 er keen un, an' I'd hate ter be ther guilty feller an' face 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Honeycut "popped" his heels together again. 
 The colonel, slightly frowning, said:
 
 L EN G AN SETT. 
 
 "You'll get some of the mud off your feet if you 
 keep on." 
 
 "Yas, reckon so. Mighty saft outside. Thought I 
 never would git through Beasley's lane. Speakin' 'bout 
 Mort, w'y' I dunno whut anybody'd wanter larrup him 
 fur. I don't b'l'eve he ever pestered er man in his life. 
 Gansett, don't know whuther the ole man is goin' ter 
 tend the bottom fiel' j'inin' Mort's, do yer?" 
 
 "I am goin' to cultivate it." 
 
 "Say yer air?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Yer'll have er happy time with the cuckle burrs. 
 Have ter be er lettle perter than yer air now, I tell yer. 
 Better let me tend it on the sheers." 
 
 "I'll take care of it," Len replied. 
 
 "Have yer han's full, I tell yer." 
 
 "That's all right." 
 
 "Yer won't think so 'bout ther middle uv June." 
 
 "I don't know what I'll think then, but I do know 
 what I think now." 
 
 "Yas, I reckon so. Co'n'l, haven't got nothin* ter 
 drink layin' roun' loose, have yer?" 
 
 The colonel, without replying, placed a decanter and 
 goblet on the table. Honeycut took an immodest drink 
 and said, "Don't yer indulge, Gansett?" 
 
 "No," Len replied. 
 
 "Wall, I do. Here's at yer ag*m." 
 
 He turned toward the fire, and stretching out hia 
 legs, again struck his heels together, remarking that it 
 was "sorter saft outside." 
 
 "There is no doubt about it," said the colonel.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 hain't be," replied Honeycut, "fur I thought I 
 never would git through Beasley's lane. So yer air 
 goin' ter crap it with ther aid man?" he added, address 
 ing Len. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Yer'll find ther old man a pusher, an' er humper. 
 I worked fur him one year, an' he stirred me early an' 
 late. Ef yer work with him thar won't be no grass 
 growin' un'er yer feet." 
 
 "I am not afraid of work," Len replied. 
 
 "I wa'n't nuther," said Honeycut, "but he come 
 mighty nigh puttin' me through. Better let me take 
 that fiel'." 
 
 "I have told you that I am going to cultivate it." 
 
 "Yas, that's whut I beam yer say. Wall, b'l'eve I'll 
 jine myse'f in ernutber drink. Here's lookin' at yer!" 
 
 The colonel, excusing himself, left the hoom." 
 
 Honeycut produced a flask and filled it from the 
 decanter. "Er feller's got ter heel hisse'f," said he. 
 "It's sorter saft outside, an' I wanter brace myse'f ag'in' 
 I git ter Beasley's lane." 
 
 The colonel reentered the room. Len could see that 
 Honeycut annoyed Bently, and knew that the affable 
 man's politeness was all that kept the colonel from kick 
 ing Honeycut out of the house. 
 
 "Co'n'l, ef thar's anything handy, I'll eat er snack," 
 said Honeycut. 
 
 "You'll find something in the dining-room," Bently 
 replied. "Go and help yourself." 
 
 "I don't see how you can stand that man," Len re 
 marked, when Honeycut had quitted the room.
 
 116 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Oh, well," rejoined Bently, "we have to put up with 
 many unpleasant things. Sometimes I feel my fingers 
 closing themselves into a fist, and I often have to put 
 my left foot on top of my right one to hold it down, 
 but I reason with myself. The fellow ought to have 
 better sense, but somehow he hasn't. To tell you the 
 truth, I am afraid of him, for I don't think that he 
 would hesitate to set my house afire or stick a knife into 
 me. I regard him as a very dangerous man." 
 
 "Well," said Len, "when it comes to that, you can be 
 as dangerous as he is, can't you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; but I don't want to kill the fellow, and if 
 I were to make him angry I would have it to do or be 
 killed myself. I'll tell you how desperate he is: some 
 time ago, he rode up to a voting precinct, knocked 
 down three negroes, seized the ballot-box, and, in the 
 presence of a crowd of men, kindled a fire and burned 
 the ballots." 
 
 "Why didn't the judges shoot him?" Len asked. 
 
 "They were afraid." 
 
 "I have never had anything to do with elections, 
 colonel, and I don't know how hard a ballot-box is to 
 hold, but I don't think that any man could take one 
 away from me." 
 
 "Hush, he's coming!" 
 
 Honeycut reentered the room. Len regarded him 
 contemptuously, but the colonel politely invited him to 
 take a seat. He sa't down, clasped his hands back of his- 
 head and looked with a lear at Len. Young Gansett 
 thought that he had never before seen a face so hideous. 
 
 "Colonel," said Len, arising, "I must go."
 
 LEN GANSETT. H7 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Yes, I must go. I merely stopped in to see you, not 
 intending, really, to stay so long as I have." 
 
 "Stay to supper, old boy." 
 
 "No, I thank you. I must get back and help grandpa 
 feed the cattle." 
 
 "I am sorry you are going so soon. Give the old 
 couple my kindest regards, please." 
 
 The sun had gone down. The soft, glowing twilight 
 of a Southern winter's evening tipped with gold the 
 dead leaves on the .oak saplings. Len stopped when he 
 reached a point where the road wound its way along a 
 great bluff that over-looked the river, and stood gazing 
 down the stream. Cow-bells, with their tankter-tank- 
 tank, made music in the distant canebreak; and away 
 down, amid wild vines and dead weeds, the fox, prepar 
 ing for a night of adventure, caught the sound of the 
 bells, and waltzed grotesquely in the deepening gloom. 
 
 "Hello, whut yer lookin' at?" 
 
 Len turned and beheld Honeycut standing near him. 
 
 "I am looking at the xiver." 
 
 "That's whut I 'lowed ter myse'f, but er feller that's 
 got a-hankerin' fur lookin' at ther river won't be much 
 uv er han' ter tend that fiel'." 
 
 "Never mind the field, I'll take care of it." 
 
 "Glad to hear yer talk that way. Like to hear er man 
 talk erbout work, fur thar ain't er lazy bone in my body. 
 Mort Haney's been splittin' some rails fur thur ole man, 
 hain't he?" 
 
 "Yes."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "That's whut I 'lowed. Them fellers done Mort up 
 putty brown, didn't they?" 
 
 "Oh, well, now, Honeycut, I don't want to talk to 
 you. I don't want your company, and you would con 
 fer a favor on me by " 
 
 "Goin' erhead, eh?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Wall, hain't I got er right ter stand here as well as 
 anbody?" 
 
 "I don't dispute your right, and I don't care how long 
 you stand here, so you don't say anything to me." 
 
 "'So good, erbody kain't speak ter yer, I reckon?" 
 
 "Yes," rejoined Len, "I am too good, or too bad, or 
 too something, to talk with you." 
 
 "Hell uv er feller, ain't yer?" 
 
 "Never mind what sort of a fellow I am/' 
 
 "That's all right, podner"; we won't hitch. I like 
 the ole man, an' wouldn't jower with yer jes' on his 
 ercount. Made Mort putty mad when ther fellers lar 
 ruped him, didn't it?" 
 
 "Rather," Len replied, with a change of manner. He 
 looked at Honeycut, and did not seem to be tired of 
 the interview. A suspicion had arisen in his mind. 
 
 "Whut yer reckon they whupped him fur, Gansett?" 
 
 "I don't know. You can probably answer that 
 question." 
 
 "How do I know?" 
 
 "You ought to know." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "You were one of the men who whipped him." 
 
 "You are a liar!"
 
 LEN G AN SETT. H9 
 
 "Say," said Len, perfectly calm, "I wish you would 
 be a little more particular. You might make me ner 
 vous if you keep on this way." 
 
 Honeycut laughed, and an owl, which had alighted 
 on the dead branch of a tree not far away, hooted in 
 refrain. 
 
 "Whut makes you oh, say, yer wuz over ter Hobdy's 
 tuther day. Ned is er smart little gal. Puttiest young 
 un' I ever seed. When she gits old ernuff me an' her 
 is goin' to marry." 
 
 "God save her from such a fate!" 
 
 "Wall, go an' ax ther ole man. She is gettin' erlong 
 putty well now soon be er-w'arin' long coats, an' it's 
 'bout time I wuz a-lookin' out fur er house ter put her 
 in. Oh, her an' ther ole man is anxious." 
 
 "You are a liar!" Len exclaimed. "She can not but 
 despise you." 
 
 "Wall, go an' ax her. I'll bet she'll tell yer that we're 
 engaged. Oh, you neenter git mad an' stomp, fur it's 
 er fack. Ther ole man tells me that ef me an' Ned 
 don't git married airier while he never will be happy; 
 but that's neither here nur thar. Whut makes yer 
 think I he'ped whup Mort?" 
 
 "Never mind what makes me think so. I believe it, 
 and I am goin' to tell him so." 
 "Oh, yer wouldn't do that, would yer?" 
 
 "Go on, now," 
 
 "Go on yerse'f. Young man, it hits me that yer air 
 a little too big fur yer britches, an' it's time yer wuz 
 tuck down er peg er two, an' ef .yer fool 'long with me 
 I'll do it. Do yer bear me? Hah, do yer hear?" 
 
 "Mr. Honeycut, I don't desire any dealings with you.
 
 120 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Our roads are not in the same direction. I must go." 
 
 Len turned to go. Honeycut exclaimed: "Hold on, 
 old feller! Thar's been things said here that I don't 
 like. Yer said that I he'ped whup Mort, didn't yer?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How do yer know?" 
 
 "Of course I have no positive proof, butl believe it." 
 
 "Yas, an' yer b'l'eve like ther ole feller over ther river. 
 Look here, I ain't ther man ter stan' sich er dose as 
 that. I don't mine takin' cast'-oil, but when thar's too 
 much turpentine mixed in with it, w'y, I kick outen the 
 traces. Uv cose I ain't guilty an' nothin' of ther so't, 
 but you've got ter sw'ar that yer'll keep yer mouth shet 
 'fore yer leave here." 
 
 "You have convinced me," Len replied. "Now I 
 know that you are guilty." 
 
 "Now, here, Gansett, I want to give you a fa'r chance. 
 Yer ain't much mo' than er boy, an' boys is ap' ter be 
 rash. Take back whut yer've said an' promise not ter 
 say nothin' erbout it ur yer'll wish yer had." 
 
 Honeycut slowly advanced. "Keep back," said Len. 
 
 "All hell kain't make me keep back. Do whut I tell 
 yer, ur I'll fling yer offen this bluff. I don't like yer 
 nohow." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "I hate yer, Gansett." 
 
 "You flatter me." 
 
 "Goin' ter do it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Honeycut seized Len. A desperate struggle followed. 
 Len, with one hand, caught a sapling. The next 
 moment Honeycut was thrown over the bluff.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 121 
 
 XIII. 
 
 "GREAT Lord!" exclaimed the young man, with a 
 shudder. He looked over the precipice. About six feet 
 from the rugged edge of the bluff, on a bending sapling 
 whose roots found scanty life among the crevices of the 
 rocks, sat Mr. Honeycut. He had fallen astride the 
 sapling, and had had the presence of mind to hold on 
 and make his seat secure. 
 
 "Thank God!" said Len. 
 
 "That's all right, young feller," Honeycut replied; 
 "but don't roll er rock down on me." 
 
 "I won't. Is there any way in which I can help you?" 
 
 "Yas, jest say the word an' I'll climb up the edge. 
 Say that yer won't shove me off ergin an' I'll soon be 
 up thar." 
 
 "God knows that I have no desire to shove you off." 
 
 "That's all right. God mout know all erbout it, but 
 I wanter know it too." 
 
 He climbed up. Len took hold of a sapling, reached 
 out his hand and assisted him. 
 
 "I see that thar ain't much use'n skylarkin' with 
 you," said the rescued man, as he began to arrange his 
 "bed-tick" suspenders, which had been broken by the 
 fall. "Now, lemme tell yer, I wouldn't have ther 
 co'n'l ter know erbout this here frolic fur nothin' in ther 
 worl'. He's been er mighty good frien' ter me, an' has 
 he'ped me outen mor'n one tight place, an' ef he-wus ter 
 know that I had tried ter floor you he would turn er
 
 122 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 shoulder as cold as a Jennywery meetin'-house on me. 
 Jes' let ther thing drap an' I'll pledge yer my word an* 
 honor as a gentleman an' nobody ken say that I ain't 
 that I never will bother yer no mo'. I am a peaceable 
 man, Mr. Gansett, an' ef it hadn't been fur that whiskey 
 that I slipped inter that bottle while ther co'n'l wuz out, 
 I never woulder toch yer. What do yer say?" 
 
 "I have no disposition to renew the contest/' Len 
 replied. 
 
 "I know, but will yer promise not ter say nothin' 
 erbout our lettle erf air?" 
 
 "Yes, for it is of no credit to either of us." 
 
 "Now yer talkin'. Gimme yer han'." 
 
 "Never mind," said Len. "We can never be on very 
 pleasant terms, at least our relations can never be very 
 cordial. Keep out of my way and I will endeavor to 
 keep out of yours." 
 
 Len did not wait to hear Honeycut's replv, but, turn 
 ing abruptly, walked rapidly toward home. His grand 
 mother met him at the gate. It was dark, and the old 
 lady did not recognize him until he spoke. 
 
 "Thank goodness, you've got back safe an sound!" 
 she said, placing her hand on his arm. 
 
 "It is not late, grandma." 
 
 "I know, but I have been so oneasy about you. I 
 never felt that way about you before. I don't know 
 what put it into my head, but I thought you fell in the 
 river an' was drown ded." 
 
 When they entered the sitting-room old Bob, who was 
 fanning the fire with a turkey-wing, looked up and 
 said:
 
 LEN OANSETT. 123 
 
 "W'y, how'd you git out o' the river. Lenqubees?" 
 
 "I haven't been in the river." 
 
 "That's strange. Sarah throwd you in about sun 
 down an' " 
 
 Now, Bob!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, you did. You come in from the kitchen an' 
 lowed that you knowed Len was in the river. You went 
 on at a terrible rate, an' at one time I thought about 
 norratin' it around the neighborhood. I told her that 
 you would be along d'reckly; but no, she 'lowed that 
 you was gone." 
 
 "The men folks never will understand the wimen 
 folks," Mrs. Gansett replied. "I kain't explain it, but 
 whiler go, when I was out in the kitchen, jest as I took 
 a pan o' biscuit outen the stove, I thought that some 
 body was tryin' to throw you in the river. I let the 
 pan fall an' run in here, an' Bob 'gun to laugh at me." 
 
 "Well, I am here, and with a good appetite for sup 
 per," said Len. 
 
 After supper, while Len and the old man were at the 
 stable, looking after the wants of the horses the young 
 man said: 
 
 "I suppose you can keep a secret, grandpa." 
 
 The old man, hanging a lantern on a peg, looked at 
 Len and replied: 
 
 "Well, I have kept many a one." 
 
 "I promised to say nothing about it, and would keep 
 the promise had not grandma's presentiment so im 
 pressed me." 
 
 He then gave an account of his encounter with 
 Honeycut.
 
 124 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Well, I'll swear, that is strange," said the old man. 
 "I don't understand it. There is something strange 
 about your grandmother. Sometimes she says I look for 
 So-and-so to-day, and the first thing I know here comes 
 So-and-so. Len, why did the fellow want to kill you?" 
 
 "I have no idea, unless it was that he thought I sus 
 pected him of whipping Haney." 
 
 "Do you really think that he helped to whip Mort?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I don't know why don't understand his motive, 
 but somehow I suspect him." 
 
 "Who was the other one?" 
 
 "I have no idea." 
 
 "It won't do to tell Mort." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Well, he's so mad that he'll go right to work with 
 out investigatin' the matter." 
 
 "I don't intend to tell him what I suspect. It is 
 better to let him make his own discoveries and sum up 
 his own conclusions." 
 
 "Honeycut is mean enough to do anything," the old 
 man said. "He has never been known to do anything 
 desperate, but ever since he was a boy he has been 
 looked on as a no 'count feller, that would do anythin' 
 mean. He is lazy as a dog, an' ef it wan't fer the 
 colonel he would starve to death." 
 
 "Well, we'll not" 
 
 "Hello, in thar!" called a voice. 
 
 "Well, I'll be hanged if thar am't Mort," said the 
 old man. "We'll be out in a minit," old Bob continued.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 125 
 
 "How do you find yo'self ?" lie added when he and Len 
 had passed out. - 
 
 "Oh, sorter sore, but able ter be stirrin'. How are yer, 
 Len? Wife an' me 'eluded we'd come over ter-night, 
 as we didn't have nothin' else ter do. Men folks won't 
 stay at home, an' wimin folks don't like ter. Soon be 
 time ter bergin stirrin' uv ther s'ile, Mr. Gansett." 
 
 "Yes," old Bob replied. "For the last day or so I 
 have felt might'ly like seem' the dirt turned over. Yis- 
 tedy I caught the scent o' burnin' grass, an' I could 
 hardly keep from ploughin' a few furrows." 
 
 When they reached the house they found Mrs. Gan 
 sett deep in the description of the impression which had 
 come upon her that evening. "Bob an* Len won't 
 believe me," said Mrs. Gansett; "but I tell them that 
 they do not understand wimin folks." 
 
 "That they don't," replied Mrs. Haney; "that they 
 don't. Mort he laughs at me when I tell him that I 
 have that sorter feelin', but " 
 
 "It's becase I ain't got no faith in it," Mort replied. 
 
 "Now lemme tell yer," continued Mrs. Haney, turning 
 to Mrs. Gansett. "Some time ago me an' Mort went 
 over ter Braley's, an' as we was comin' back, I says: 
 'Mort, somethin' has happened at home, somethin' 
 awful.' 'How do yer know?' saye he. 'Cause,' says I, 
 'I feel that er way, an' I jes' know thar is;' an' bless yer, 
 when we got home we found that somethin' had got in 
 ter ther smoke-house an* stole the last midlin' uv meat 
 we had." 
 
 "Wall," said Mort, "the meat woulder been gone ef 
 yer hadnter felt that way."
 
 126 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Yas, but I felt that way." 
 
 "Ah, hah! an' ef yer'd er felt that way an' hadenter 
 found nothin' missin', yer wouldn't have been so keen 
 ter tell it. Come ter think erbout it, yer never tell me 
 erbout yer strange feelin's till airter somethin' has dun 
 happened." 
 
 "W'y, Mort Haney, ain't yer ershamed ter set thar an' 
 talk that er way?" 
 
 "It's er faek. Ther other night, airter I wuz dun 
 whupped, yer tole me uv er dream yer had ther night 
 afore." 
 
 "I did have the dream, but I forgot ter tell yer erbout 
 it in time ter do any good." 
 
 The conversation during the visit of Mort and his 
 wife was chiefly held down to the unfleeting fact that 
 the "men folks don't understand the wimen folks." 
 
 The next day Len went over to the Hobdy place. 
 Honeycut's words with regard to Ned hummed, with 
 wearisome repetition, in the young man's ears. Len 
 found Ned in the woods near the house. He heard her 
 singing before he saw her. She was sitting on a large 
 log. One of her shoes lay on the ground, and, in happy 
 carelessness, she waved her "stocking-foot" to and fro 
 in the entrancing sunshine. When she saw Len she clap 
 ped her hands, jumped off the log, put on her shoe, 
 jumped back again, and cried out: 
 
 "Now, Lenqubees, I'm dressed ready ter see yer." 
 
 "I'm glad to see you, little girl," said Len, as he 
 seated himself beside her. 
 
 "I ain't so awful little," she replied, giving the skirt 
 of her ragged dress a petulant flirt. "Long time ergo
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 127 
 
 folks called me little, but now it's time for *em to stop." 
 
 "All right. How is your father?" 
 
 "Mighty bad. Ther good weather took erway his 
 pains; but yistidy he would he'p me wring out some 
 clothes that I had washed, an' ther pains come back. I 
 tried my best ter keep him frum dabblin' in ther water, 
 but, child-like, he would do it. Men never does know 
 whut's good fur 'em. Did yer come er purpose ter see 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No, you didn't." 
 
 "Then, why did I come?" 
 
 "Jes ter be er-comin', I reckon." 
 
 "After to-day I cannot come so often." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I am going to begin ploughing to-morrow." 
 
 "I'm allus glad ter see yer, but it is gittin' erbout 
 time that folks was a-ploughin' ef they wanter do any- 
 thin. As dad is so uncertain, we kain't tend much uv 
 a crap, but we're goin' ter do ther best we ken an' trust 
 ter the cross-roads boys." 
 
 "The cross-roads boys?" 
 
 "Yes. That's whut pap calls ther rain in ther sum 
 mer time when yer ken see it way cross ther field." 
 
 "Ned, do you know a man named Honeycut?" 
 
 The girl frowned. "Whut made yer speak uv him?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "I merely want to know if you are acquainted with 
 him." 
 
 "Is that all yer want to know? No, it ain't," she 
 added, giving Len a serious look. "You hav hearn
 
 128 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 something an' I wanter know who told yer an* whut 
 they told yer." 
 
 "Well, I saw Honeycut yesterday over at Colonel 
 Bently's. We walked part of the way home together, 
 and he spoke of you. He had been drinking, otherwise 
 I don't suppose he would have spoken as he did." 
 
 "How did he speak?" she asked. Her manner had 
 changed. An old woman could not have been more 
 serious. 
 
 "Well, he intimated that so soon as you become old 
 enough that that " 
 
 "That we'd marry?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes. It is not true, is it?" 
 
 "I'm erfeerd it is." 
 
 "What! you marry that brute?" 
 
 "Oh, don't le's talk about it." 
 
 "But you must tell me more." 
 
 She tried to assume a lively air, but the effort resulted 
 in failure. "Come, little girl, tell me all about it." 
 
 "Thar ain't much ter tell, Mr. Gansett. Ever sense 
 I ken recolleck I have been told by dad that I must 
 marry Honeycut." 
 
 "Your father surely does not like the man." 
 
 "I don't see how he ken, but thar don't many days 
 slip 'twixt ther time uv one tellin' an' ernuther. I hate 
 ther man. I could kill him. I do b'lieve that ef some 
 body wuster kill him ther Lord would say that he done 
 right. Many a time when we wus out uv meat I have 
 seed dad give Honeycut ther last cent uv money in ther 
 house."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 129 
 
 "And to oblige your father you will one day marry 
 Honey cut?" 
 
 "I hafter, Mr. Len; but I hope that I'll die as soon as 
 ever I do." 
 
 "You are very young yet, and many changes may 
 occur between now and the time when you'll be of 
 marriageable age." 
 
 "Yes, that's so; an' it's that alone what keeps me up. 
 I ain't smart with books, but outside uv 'em I ain't er 
 fool." 
 
 "You are a remarkably bright child." 
 
 "Child," she repeated; "w'y, Mr. Len, I ain't no child. 
 Let me tell you somethin'. I'll soon be fifteen years 
 old. I'm holdin' my age back to keep from you know 
 what. Lemme tell yer. Ther other night I thought I 
 wuz free. I dremp' that Honeycut fell in the river an' 
 was drownded. I seed him as plain as daylight, an' then 
 I seed seed you, an' I thought yer tole me that Honey- 
 cut fell off the bluff. I almos' wush he had." 
 
 "And I wish now that I had wish now that he had. 
 Ned, you are a beautiful girl don't turn away. You 
 are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, and 
 your soul is as beautiful as your face. I am determined 
 that you shall never become the wife of that beast." 
 
 "But dad says" 
 
 "It makes no difference what dad says. You shall 
 never marry Honeycut." 
 
 "How ken I he'p it ef dad says I must?" 
 
 "Let me tell you, Ned, if the worst comes I will kill 
 Honeycut. I will take the life of a dog to save the life 
 of an angel chop down a weed to save a flower. Don't
 
 130 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 look at me so curiously. I know the thought is horrible 
 to you, but it is pleasant to me. I will take no advan 
 tage of him will give him every possible show " 
 
 "Oh, he might kill you, Len." 
 
 "No, he could not. My cause will be the cause of 
 justice. Ned, you cannot marry that man. He is a 
 brute." 
 
 "I know it, but dad says that I must. Honeycut was 
 over here the other day, an' after he left dad come ter 
 me an' says, 'Yer love me, don't yer, Ned?' 'Yes, dad,' 
 I said, 'yer know I do.' 'Then yertl do whut I want 
 yer ter, won't yer do it ter save me?' I told him 
 'Yes/ " 
 
 "How save him ?" Len asked. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Honeycut has got some sort uv 
 a holt on dad; I don't know whut it is, but dad has 
 hinted ter me now don't yer never say nothin' erbout 
 this that Honeycut could have him hung. I know that 
 dad never done nothin' wrong. I know it jes' as well 
 as I know my name." 
 
 "Never mind, Ned, it will all come out right. Do 
 you know that I would rather be killed than to see you 
 marry Honeycut?" 
 
 "No, why would yer?" 
 
 "Because, sweet creature, I love you." She glanced 
 at him, burst into tears, jumped off the log and ran 
 away.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 131 
 
 XIV. 
 
 LEN stood gazing after the girl until she disappeared 
 behind the house, and then he followed her. When he 
 turned the corner of the house, Ned, who sat in the 
 doorway, jumped up and exclaimed: 
 
 "Wy, dad, here's Mr. Len! Come in. We're awful 
 glad to see yer." 
 
 She extended her hand and greeted Len as though 
 ma'ny weeks had elapsed since she had seen him. "Come 
 in an' set down. Git up, kittie/' she said as she took a 
 chair and shook it. A lazy cat suffered itself to be dis 
 lodged. Len, after speaking to old man Hobdy, sat 
 down. The old man looked, with a pair of blurred eyes, 
 at the visitor. 
 
 "How is your health, Mr. Hobdy?" 
 
 "Ain't got none. How's yourn?" 
 
 "Pretty fair, thank you." 
 
 "Yas, yer ken well erford ter say putty fair when yer 
 air strong ernuff to fling down er two-year-ole bull. 
 Ever'body but me ken be well. Eeckon the Lord'ul- 
 mighty's got er spite at me. Don't know why, fur I 
 ain't never done nothin' agin him." 
 
 "Oh, you'll come out all right," Len replied. 
 
 The old man frowned until his ragged brows almost 
 hid his blurred eyes and rejoined: "Yas, like hell." 
 
 "Now, jes' do lissun at dad," said the girl. "Ther bad 
 man'll git yer, mine ef he don't."
 
 132 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Damn ther bad man!" howled the old man as he 
 drew up one leg and wrinkled his nose. 
 
 "Never mine/' the girl went on; "one uv these here 
 days yer^ll hear suthin' comin' down ther road like er 
 two-hoss wagin, an' when yer look up yerll see ther ole 
 bad man er-comin' erlong, knockin' his hoofs tergether." 
 
 "Oh, hush up with yer nonsense! When air yer goin' 
 over ter Johnson's airter that milk?" 
 
 "Goin' right now/' she said as she took down a yellow 
 pitcher from a shelf. 
 
 "I'll go with you/' Len remarked. 
 
 "No yer won't," she replied. "I want yer ter stay 
 with dad till I come back ter keep ther bad man from 
 gittin' him/' 
 
 "Well, I'll stay," said Len. 
 
 When she had gone Len turned to Hobdy and asked, 
 "Do you know a man named Honeycut?" 
 
 The old man stared at Len and replied, "Yas, damn 
 him!" 
 
 "You don't seem to like him." 
 
 "He's er good man in his place," said Hobdy. 
 
 "Where is his place?" 
 
 "In hell!" the old man exclaimed. 
 
 "The other day, while I looked at Honeycut," Len 
 remarked, "I wondered how any woman could ever love 
 him." 
 
 "Who said any woman loved him?" 
 
 "Nobody, but I thought that he might, after a while, 
 get married. I don't see, though, how any father could 
 ever give his consent to "
 
 LEN GANSETT. 133 
 
 The old man, uttering a violent oath, turned upon his 
 visitor, and said: 
 
 "Thar's a damn sight ub things yer don't see. Whut 
 makes yer talk thater way ter me, say?" 
 
 "Oh, I was merely expressing my opinion with regard 
 to to " 
 
 "Yer air tryin' ter pry inter suthin' that don' con- 
 carn yer, young feller. Why do yer wanter come roun' 
 here 'spressin' sich 'pinions ter me?" 
 
 "I am very free in expressing my opinion of such a 
 man as Honeycut." 
 
 "Yas, but whut ther hell do I kere, say?" 
 
 "Of course I didn't know how you stood with regard 
 to the man." 
 
 "Do yer know whut I believe?" 
 
 "Can't say that I do." 
 
 "Wall, I'll tell yer. I b'l'eve that yer air er young 
 liar." 
 
 "Then I am fortunate in not being an old one." 
 
 The old man cackled, blew his nose, and, after a few 
 moments, said: 
 
 "Gansett, I ruther like yer. Thar's suthin' erbout 
 yer that I never seed erbout no other feller, but let me 
 tell yer, I don't want yer ter talk ter me erbout that 
 feller Honeycut. He makes my life miserable. With' 
 out him I could laugh at ther rheumatiz, but the 
 rheumatiz an' that feller tergether knocks me." 
 
 "Mr. Hobdy, I don't want you to think that I am 
 prying into your affairs, but let me tell you that I love 
 your daughter. Hold on, now, and let me get through.
 
 134 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 She has given me to understand that she is to be the 
 wife" 
 
 "I'll smack her jaws!" exclaimed the old man. 
 
 "Oh, no, don't do that. She knew that I would not 
 tell any one or at least thought as much. Tell me 
 about the matter. If Honeycut has you in his power, 
 we must " 
 
 The old man raved. Len sat, quietly regarding him. 
 
 "Tell me all about it, Mr. Hobdy. It is my idea 
 my entrancing dream to send Ned to school, and then, 
 at the proper time, if she loves me, marry her. Don't 
 rave so. Act like a man. It would be an unpardonable 
 sin to sacrifice that child. Come, now, sit down and 
 calm yourself. Make haste, for Ned will be back pretty 
 soon." 
 
 The old man had arisen and was hobbling about the 
 room. At one time he seized his crutch and drew it 
 back as though he would strike his visitor, but Len, not 
 in the least disturbed, calmly looked at him. 
 
 "Sit down. If you continue to cut such capers the 
 rheumatism will come down on you like a wolf on the 
 fold." 
 
 The old man sat down. Len continued: "In thus 
 holding out against a course which reason suggests, you 
 do not exercise that strong natural sense with which 
 nature seems to have endowed you." 
 
 "Air yer in earnest, Gansett?" the old man asked. 
 
 "Of course I am. What object could I have in know 
 ing your secret if " 
 
 "Wall, wall, I'll tell yer, but don't never let Honey- 
 cut find it out. Mebbe as smart er young feller as you
 
 LEN GANSETT. 135 
 
 air could he'p me. Lemme think a minit. Watch out 
 fur Ned." 
 
 For a few moments he sat in silence. Then, with 
 brightened countenance, he began to tell his story. 
 "Erbout nine years ergo," said he, "thar lived in this 
 neighborhood a feller named Jim Buck. Me an' Jim 
 wa'n't friends. We had er fallin' out wunst erbout some 
 cattle. I cotch him er-pullin' down my fence an' er- 
 turnin' 'em inter my co'n fiel'. I rushed up ter him ter 
 whale him, an' he snatched out a navy six an' told me 
 ter dig dirt, an' I dug. Couldn't do nothin' else. 'Fore 
 I dug, though, I tole him that I'd see him ergin. That 
 evenm' he writ er letter ter me, sayin' that he didn't 
 want no trouble with me. 1 answered the letter as best 
 I could, an' told him that I wuz goin' ter shoot him on 
 sight. Erbout three days airter that, I wuz goin' 'long 
 ther fence by ther ole Abner Cummins place an' ther 
 fust thing I knowed I heard a gun go off. I 'lowed, uv 
 co'se, that some feller wuz er huntin' squirrels, an' didn't 
 pay no 'tention ter it, tell all uv er sudden I come up 
 ter Jim Buck, layin' dead. While I stood lookin' at 
 him, who should come up but Honeycut. 'Whut made 
 yer kill him?' says he. 'I never done it/ I said. 'Wall, 
 now/ Honeycut went on; 'me an' him wuz fust-rate 
 frien's, an' ther tuther day he showed me a letter whar 
 yer said yer wuz gwine ter shoot him on sight, an' I've 
 got ther letter right here in my pocket an' it's ernuff ter 
 hang yer on.' I could er killed Honeycut as free as look 
 at him, but strange ter say I had forgot my pistol. I 
 saw that he had me, an' I begged him ter gin me ther 
 letter, but he wouldn't do it. He said that ef I would
 
 136 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 berhave merself he wouldn't tell on me. I didn't know 
 whut else ter do, an' I promised ter berhave. He said 
 he would hafter have er little change now an' then, 'an' 
 say/ said he, 'thar's one thing yerVe got ter un'erstan'. 
 When that little gal uv yourn comes uv age, I want 
 her/ I 'gun ter cuss, but it wa'n't no use. 'I'll see that 
 yer don't git erway frum me,' he said, 'an' ter keep yer 
 frum hurtin' me I'll sw'ar out er peace warrant ergin 
 yer.' Then he went erway, an' sorer than er stone bruise 
 I went home. The coroner hil er inquest, but couldn't 
 find out who done ther killin'. Nobody, not even ther 
 nigger that had fotch me ther letter frum Buck, knowed 
 that thar wuz any diffunce betwixt us. Sence then 
 Honeycut has tuck erbout all ther money I could rake 
 an' scrape. Many er time I have thought erbout killin' 
 him, but he has tuck purticular pains ter tell folks that 
 I would like ter kill him 'cause Ned loved him. Life 
 is sweet, Mr. Gansett, even ter er ole man that's got ther 
 rheumatiz. I have studied over it till I am almos' crazy, 
 an' I don't know what ter do. What do yer think uv 
 it?" 
 
 "It is a desperate state of affairs," Len replied; "but 
 the girl must be saved." 
 
 "But how? If we try to save her I will be hung fur 
 murder. It won't do ter say nothin' ter Honeycut erbout 
 it Here comes Ned. Yas, ther sheep in this here 
 country don't 'peer ter Git ther milk?" 
 
 "Didn't have none, dad." 
 
 "They never have none when we want it." 
 
 "Mr. Len," said the girl, "I thought yer would be 
 gone ag'in' I got back, J)ut yer ain't."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 137 
 
 "Were you in hopes that I would be gone?" 
 
 "Oh, I didn't say that. The day is so bright I don't 
 see how a body can stay in ther house." 
 
 "Well/ said Len, arising, "I must go. When you get 
 able, Mr. Hobdy, I'd like to see you over at grandpa's; 
 and, Ned, as you are able " 
 
 "Oh, I'm comin' over airter while. Good-by." 
 
 After going some distance Len looked back Ned was 
 standing in the door, watching him. 
 
 "That child," mused the young man, "makes this 
 whole neighborhood bright. She is the most beautiful 
 creature in the world. Honeycut I am almost sorry 
 that I did not kill him when I threw him over the bluff. 
 Old man Hobdy is weak." 
 
 He turned into the country road and had gone some 
 distance when some one called out: 
 
 "Hole on an' wait fur good comp'ny." 
 
 Len looked around and saw Honeycut approaching. 
 He did not stop and "wait fur good comp'ny," but 
 Honeycut soon overtook him. 
 
 "Whicher way, Mr. Gansett?" 
 
 "This way." 
 
 "Yas, so I see. Hobdy's well as usual, I reckon." 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "Ah, hah! Ain't changed yer notion 'bout tendin' 
 that fiel'?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "That's what I 'lowed, but yer'd better. Cuckleburrs 
 grows down thar thicker'n ha'r on er dog's back an' 
 hot, w'y it's the hottest place on re-cord. Whut do yer 
 say?"
 
 138 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I say that I am going to cultivate the field." 
 
 "Sho' 'miff?" 
 
 "I don't mind cocklehurrs and hot weather." 
 
 "Sho' 'miff?" 
 
 Len made no reply, but gave Honeycut a contempt 
 uous glance. 
 
 "Don't yer think times air gittin' harder ever' year?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Thought yer wuz putty well up in sich matters." 
 
 "I'm not." 
 
 "Sho' 'nuff?" 
 
 "Look here, this conversation is very uninteresting 
 to me." 
 
 "Say it is? Wall, I never wuz much uv er talker, 
 nohow. Didn't go ter school much when I wuz er boy. 
 Mout uv gone, but ther old man didn't have much 
 money. Say, have they warned yer ter work on ther 
 road yit?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Wall, they'll be airter yer. They don't furgit. Turn 
 down thiser way, eh? Wall, it's erbout as nigh fur me." 
 
 "I don't want your company, Honeycut, and " 
 
 "Oh, I ain't goin' ter pester yer, young feller. I ain't 
 never pestered nobody yit." 
 
 "Certainly not," Len replied. "You are one of the 
 most innocent men I have ever met." 
 
 "Thank yer fur ther comperment." 
 
 "You are entirely welcome, I assure you. Who was 
 with you when you whipped Mort Haney?" 
 
 "Now, look ahere, Mr. Gansett, we don't wanter talk 
 erbout that. I thought that we had sorter went inter
 
 LEN GANSETT. 139 
 
 er Agreement consarnin* it. I am er peaceable sorter 
 feller, I am, an' I don't like fur er feller ter talk ter me 
 thater way. I've had many er chance ter fight, an' I 
 never fit yet lessen it wuz ther time yerse'f an' me had 
 that little scrimmage. We're all right, though. I 
 wouldenter throwd yer over that bluff ef I could. I'm 
 one uv these heah sociable sorter fellers." 
 
 "How much farther do you go in this direction?" 
 Len asked. 
 
 "Oh, jest as far as yer please." 
 
 "Well, my pleasure in this matter is somewhat limited. 
 Our separation, on my part, will not cause a moment of 
 regret." 
 
 "Beckon not. I see that yer air er feller that ken 
 stan' disappointment." 
 
 "Now, here, Honeycut, we have gone far enough to 
 gether. You go your way and I'll go mine. I do not 
 care to associate with you, and if you force your com 
 pany upon me you will have cause to regret it. I go 
 down this way. Don't follow me."
 
 140 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE time for planting the crops had come. Brush 
 heaps burned in the new-ground fields. The wild-eyed 
 hare sprang from her bed to leave her young ones to be 
 turned over by the plough. Along the fences, border 
 ing the woods where the sun warmly shone, lizards, with 
 startling rustle, ran through the dry leaves; and, far 
 above, the keen-eyed hawk sailed round and round, 
 watching the chickens that cackled in the barn-yards. 
 
 Old Bob Gansett rigged up, as he termed it, a team 
 for Len. The team consisted of a large one-eyed horse 
 and a small mule. When the young man suggested that 
 he would prefer a more respectable-looking outfit, the 
 old man replied: 
 
 "Well, when you wear this team out I'll see if I can't 
 get you a better one." 
 
 "You have given the negroes good teams." 
 
 "Do you know why?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you. A negro will often abuse a sorry- 
 lookin' team, but he takes a pride in a good-lookin' one. 
 He takes pleasure in curryin' the mules, and in many 
 other ways tries to outdo the other fellows. You have 
 too much sense an' too much kindness o' heart to mis 
 treat anything. The nigger boys are about done 
 sproutin' the bottom fiel', so you ken go ahead at once. 
 I've showed you how to plough deep by movin' your 
 back-band forward, an' have in other ways give you all
 
 LEN GANSETT. 141 
 
 the necessary instructions; so now put that old shoe on 
 the p'int o' yo' plough, to keep it from gouging up the 
 road, an' go ahead/' 
 
 To Len the work was novel, but with his strong arms 
 and quickness of understanding he soon "got the hang 
 of the thing." The turning soil, when he gazed long at 
 it, made his head swim, hut when he looked away, and 
 saw the birds chattering on the fence, he felt a thrill of 
 pleasure. The head swimming passed away, but the 
 pleasure of gazing at fair nature, just aroused from a 
 long nap, grew less. His arms grew tired and his legs 
 began to ache. Would the dinner-horn never blow? He 
 thought that he would sit down and rest awhile, but just 
 as he stopped he thought that his grandfather might 
 make fun of him, so he clucked to his team and resumed 
 his work. At last the dinner-horn sounded. He had 
 often heard of the music of the dinner-horn, but never 
 before had he realized that an instrument without keys 
 could produce such a thrill. 
 
 "How are your legs?" the old man asked when Len, 
 after feeding his team at the barn, entered the house. 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "Glad to hear it. Occasionally I'd look over in yo' 
 direction to see if you had turned loose an' set down, 
 but I'm glad to know that you didn't. There's only 
 one way to make a man o' yourself, an' that is to stick 
 to whatever business you undertake. Come an' let's 
 eat a snack." 
 
 "I have noticed," said the young man, looking up 
 from his plate and addressing his gradmother, "that the
 
 142 L* GA-N8ETT. 
 
 plough is a forcible agent in behalf of hog's jowl and tur 
 nip-greens." 
 
 "Ah, Lord, child," the old lady replied, "a honest 
 appetite is more to be desired than gold an' fine linen." 
 
 "Yes, but it is not so much sought after," Len re 
 joined. "But with me there has always been more 
 appetite than gold." 
 
 "You are better off for it, my child." 
 
 "Yes, but people sometimes eat too much. It would 
 be well to mix gold and appetite." 
 
 "People t|iat work hard don't hurt themselves eatin'. 
 I know I never did; neither has your gran'pa, fur he ken 
 git outen bed at any time o' night an' eat." 
 
 "Len," said Mr. Gansett, when the young man had 
 arisen from the table, "ketch your bosses an' go ahead. 
 While the weather is as good as it is now you must hump 
 'em." 
 
 The novelty had already worn away, and hard, uncom 
 promising, laborious fact had taken its place. 
 
 "Some one with the power of a Jashua must have 
 commanded the sun to stand still," Len mused. "I am 
 certain that it seems just as high at it was two hours 
 ago. I'd like to go over to the river and catch some fish. 
 Catfish are biting now. I must ask grandma if she does 
 not want a mess. There's not a cloud in the sky. Bet 
 it doesn't rain for two weeks; but why should I want it 
 to rain when grandpa is so anxious to .get this land 
 broken up? If he knew my thoughts he would call me 
 lazy, but I don't see why a man should wear himself out 
 this way. Git up there! Getting tired too, eh? Well, 
 you are not more anxious to stop than I am."
 
 L&N G AN SETT. 143 
 
 For hours the sun seemed to hang in the tops of dis 
 tant trees. Slowly it faded, and then, like a ball of sub 
 dued fire, it sank out of sight. Len staggered as he 
 walked toward home, and, forgetfully, stepped over 
 imaginary clods. He was asleep by the time he touched 
 the bed, and then, before turning over, his grandfather 
 called him. 
 
 "Not time to get up yet, is it?" 
 
 The old man laughed. "Why," said he, talking from 
 the foot of the stairs, "it's broad daylight everywhere." 
 
 "When you called me I did not think that you had 
 gone to bed." 
 
 "But I have been to bed, and I don't think I ever 
 passed a longer night." 
 
 "I know that I never passed so short a night." 
 
 "Well, hurry up and feed your horses ag'in' we git a 
 snack ready. We've played long enough, an' it's time to 
 do sometbin'. Hurry up!" 
 
 Len was so stiff and sore that he could scarcely get out 
 of bed, and.at bfeakfast he was so sleepy that he could 
 hardly keep his eyes open. His work was a painful drag, 
 and several times during the day ne was tempted to sit 
 down and rest, but the fear that his grandfather was 
 watching him spurred him onward. 
 
 How he longed for Sunday! "It used to be a very dull 
 day to me," he mused; "but now it will be a day of en 
 joyment." 
 
 Sunday came as usual, but to Len it was not common 
 place. He sat down in the yard and lazily enjoyed the 
 sunshine. He leaned back against a tree and dozed off
 
 144 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 to sleep, and had begun to step over clods and watch. 
 
 the turning soil when some one exclaimed: 
 "Wall, ef yer ain't lazy!" 
 Len sprang up. Ned Hobdy stood near him. 
 "Why, my little girl, how do you do?" 
 "Didn't I tell yer that I wa'n't er little girl?" 
 "Yes, but you are not a very large girl." 
 "I'm large enough. I come over ter go ter meetin' 
 
 with yer gran'maw, an' I thought I'd walk erroun' while 
 
 she is gettin' ready." 
 
 "I suppose I may go with you." 
 
 "I'm goin' with yer gran'maw." 
 
 "Yes; but cannot I go with both of you?" 
 
 "No, fur we don't want no men folks with us." 
 
 Len insisted, but Ned was inexorable. The young 
 
 man comforted himself with the hope that after her 
 
 return from church he might walk home with her; but 
 
 his grandmother returned alone. 
 
 "I won't be outdone/' the young man mused. "I will 
 
 go over and see her." 
 
 He hurried toward Hobdy's house, hoping to overtake 
 
 Ned, but he was disappointed. He found Hobdy much 
 
 improved in health. 
 
 "That talk I had with yer ther other day he'ped me 
 
 might'ly," said Hobdy. "I've had very little cause ter 
 
 hope fur anythin' in this here world that is, sense that 
 
 awful erfair, an' now, even ter ketch holt uv er floatin' 
 
 leaf keeps my head erbove water." 
 "Where is Ned?" 
 "Don't know. She wuz here jest er minit ergo. I'll 
 
 step out an' call her."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 145 
 
 He called, but received no answer. "I don't know 
 whut could er went with her so quick/' Hobdy remarked 
 when he reentered the house. 
 
 Len thought that he knew, but he did not venture an 
 opinion. He thought that she had seen him coming and 
 had fled into the woods. He was disappointed, heart 
 sick. 
 
 "You have not told me yet, Mr. Hobdy, whether you 
 would be pleased with me as your son-in-law." 
 
 . "Ef ever-thing could be cleared up I'd be might'ly 
 pleased, but thar's a heap in ther way yit. Ned is a 
 sorter curious girl, but she will do jest as I tell her." 
 
 "Oh, I would not think of marrying her unless I know 
 that she loved me. I tell you, Mr. Hobdy, that I am 
 terribly in earnest. Since the first moment I saw her a 
 bright picture has ever been before me. She has laid a 
 thoughtless hand on my life, and I must follow her." 
 
 "Hanged ef yer don't pear ter be in earnest. Have 
 yer talked ter ther old folks erbout it?" 
 
 "No, not particularly. "Well," he added, arising, I'll 
 go out and see if I can find her." 
 
 The old man did not object. Len went into the 
 woods. He walked with as little noise as possible. He 
 stopped when he came to a tinkling little stream, flow 
 ing, through beds of moss, from a spring, and, looking 
 up the stream, he saw Ned, sitting on a rock with her 
 face turned from him. He slowly and easily approached 
 her. She turned and saw him. 
 
 "Don't run away, Ned!" 
 
 She had sprung to her feet, but his voice was so im-
 
 146 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 ploring that she sat down again. She suffered him to 
 take a seat beside her. 
 
 "Ned, why do you keep out of my way?" 
 
 "It don't 'pear like I do keep outen yer way." 
 
 "I mean, then, why do you try to keep out of my 
 way?" 
 
 "I never did want ter be in er body's way." 
 
 "Now, look here, little girl, you know what I mean. 
 Didn't you see me coming and run away?" 
 
 "I run part uv ther way an' walked part." 
 
 "Why did you try to avoid me?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. You must not ask me such 
 questions, Mr. Len. I act the best I ken, an' ef I don't 
 do ter please ever'body w'y I kain't he'p it. Yer* tend 
 like yer want ter see me, but yer know yer don't." 
 
 "There is no time, not a minute, when I am not 
 delighted to see you." 
 
 She gave him an incredulous glance, shook her beau 
 tiful hair, and replied: 
 
 "Oh, no, yer ain't, an' yer kain't fool me. It ain't 
 wuth while fur er pusson ez smart as yer air to tell me 
 that he likes ter see me an' talk ter me, lessen it is that 
 he ken go erway an' make fun uv me." 
 
 "Ned, I wish you would believe me " 
 
 "But somehow I kain't. Won't yer 1'arn me how?" 
 
 "I wish that I could. I would give anything, do any 
 thing, to convince you." 
 
 "Wall, we won't talk erbout it. Yer gran'maw told 
 me that yer have 'gun ter plough." 
 
 "Yes, I began several days ago." 
 
 "How do yer like it?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 147 
 
 "Can't say that I like it very well, but I suppose that 
 I'll get used to it after awhile. NecL wouldn't you like 
 to go to school?" 
 
 "Uv co'se I'd like it, but how would dad git along? 
 Who'd wait on him when his pains come on?" 
 
 "I suppose some one could be hired to do your work." 
 
 "That wouldn't suit dad, fur nobody ken please him 
 but me." 
 
 "That may be true, but you must think of yourself 
 as well as of your father." 
 
 "Ain't got time ter think uv myself." 
 
 "But you must take time, for there'll come a day when 
 you'll wish you had. You can't live this way always." 
 
 "Kain't live no way allus," she mischievously replied. 
 
 "No, and you should not want to live this way any 
 longer than can be helped. If your father should get 
 well, and it now seems likely that he may, he will not 
 need to be waited on." 
 
 "When he gits well I'll think erbout goin' ter school, 
 but I kain't think erbout it now." 
 
 "But by the time he gets entirely well it may be too 
 late for you to go to school." 
 
 "Why air yer so anxious fur me ter go ter school? 
 Am I so awful ignunt?" 
 
 "Oh, no, you are not ignorant, but the brightest per 
 sons in the world must go to school." 
 
 "Ter keep' em frum talkin' like er nigger?" 
 
 "No, not exactly that, but to broaden their minds." 
 
 "I believe, Mr. Len, that I could 1'axn ef I had er 
 chance."
 
 148 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I know you could. Your mind is as bright as a 
 ray of sunlight." 
 
 After a few moments of serious reflection, reflection 
 that clouded her face, she said, "But what is the use of 
 sich hopes? A few years frum now an' I'll hafter marry 
 Honeycut." 
 
 "Not while I am alive," Gansett exclaimed. 
 
 "0 Mr. Len!" 
 
 "I mean it. You shall not marry that wolf." 
 
 "How can yer he'p it? What will become of dad? 
 Oh, I know he's got some awful holt on him." 
 
 "Not as awful a hold as he'd have on you if you were 
 to marry him." 
 
 "His holt wouldn't last so long, fur I intend ter kill 
 myse'f as soon as I marry him. Then he couldn't do 
 nuthin with dad, fur dad couldn't keep me frum killin' 
 myse'f." 
 
 "You must not think that way. If anybody must die 
 it must be Honeycut." 
 
 "Yer wouldn't murder him, Mr. Len." 
 
 "No, I would give him every opportunity. I would 
 compel him to fight me." 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" she quickly exclaimed. "He might kill 
 yer!" 
 
 "I would rather be dead than to see you his wife." 
 
 "But yer bein' killed wouldn't save me, don't yer see?" 
 
 "Yes, that's true; but I don't intend to get killed. 
 Perhaps I may persuade him to leave the country. I 
 see that Colonel Bently has a great deal of influence over 
 him. Perhaps the colonel will assist me."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 149 
 
 "Oh, yer mus'n't let ther colonel know anything 
 erbout it/' 
 
 "I wouldn't let him into any of our secrets, but would 
 tell him to send Honeycut away, making him promise 
 never to come back again." 
 
 Len had no faith in this rather romantic view, but 
 he felt it to be his duty to say anything that would in 
 the least tend to brighten the girl's prospects. 
 
 "Now, Ned, let me ask you the same question which 
 I asked you just now. "Why do you try to keep away 
 from me?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know." 
 
 "Yes, you do. Is it because you do not like me?" 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 "Then you do like me, do you?" 
 
 "I kain't keep from likin' yer. Everybody likes yer." 
 
 "Like me! Is that all?" 
 
 "Ain't that ernuff?" 
 
 "No, it is not enough." 
 
 "I thought it was." 
 
 "When did you think so?" 
 
 "All the time." 
 
 "Do you think of me all the time?" 
 
 She looked pleadingly at him. "I must go," she said. 
 
 "Not now," he replied, taking her hand. "Tell me 
 how much you think of me and then you may go." 
 
 She looked into his eyes and said, "I love yer, an* 
 love yer, an' love yer, all ther time." 
 
 She jumped down from the rock and ran away.
 
 150 LEN OANSETT. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 MR. MANGUS DOCKERY, editor and proprietor of the 
 "Picket/' sat in his office deeply pondering over an 
 exact piece of wording which he was spreading on a 
 sheet, torn from one side of a paper hag. He did not 
 omit the appliances, or rather the necessary perform 
 ances, incident to a great literary strain, for he would 
 occasionally frown like the corrugated elbow of a stove 
 pipe, would scratch his head, and nibble the end of his 
 pencil. 
 
 "Think I've got it all right/' he mused. "I'll copy 
 it in ink to make it more binding. Let me see how it 
 reads: 
 
 To our worthy townsman, Mangus DocTcery: 
 
 DEAR SIK There are times when all good citizens think 
 deeply and wisely of legislation, and particularly of that 
 legislation directly relative to their own community. For 
 some time we have been casting about in an endeavor to 
 find suitable timber for the coming session of the legis 
 lature. We could not agree, and were sorely perplexed 
 until we became of one mind, and that unity of mind, sir, 
 was our determination to ask you to come out as our can 
 didate. We are aware of the fact that you have many 
 duties and responsibilities devolving upon you as an editor, 
 and that much experience and wisdom is necessary to the 
 safe conduct of a newspaper, but we also know good editors 
 are much more plentiful than good legislators. You might 
 sell your paper to advantage, or might suspend it during the 
 session of the legislature. An early reply will greatly 
 oblige, 
 
 Vox POPULI.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 151 
 
 "That will do first-rate," the editor mused as he pro 
 ceeded to copy the "call." "I must disguise my hand 
 for some incredulous fool might ask me to show up. 
 The great fault of the American people is their unbe 
 lief." When he had copied the "call" he shoved back 
 his chair and said, "I must answer this thing. It is 
 better to strike before the iron is hot enough than it 
 is to wait until the iron gets too cold. Those gentlemen, 
 evidently the best citizens in the county, are con 
 ferring a great favor upon me, and it would not be 
 courteous to delay my reply." 
 
 At the conclusion of an hour's hard work he had pro 
 duced the following: 
 
 Vox Populi, gentlemen and fellow-citizens: 
 
 I have maturely considered the call which you have been 
 pleased to make upon me. I am at a loss as to why you 
 selected me, for, as you doubtless well know, I have never 
 entertained a political aspiration. I have always thought 
 the responsibilities attendant upon the discharge of legis 
 lative duties to be too great for me, even though I recognize 
 the fact that without a deep feeling of responsiblity there 
 can be no thorough, conscientious work. I have ever been 
 a modest man, living in a modest way, and I was in hopes 
 that I might be permitted to remain in my position of semi- 
 obscurity; but, fellow-citizens, if it be the will of the people 
 that I should go forth to fight their battles, I will throw 
 personal interests aside, buckle on my armor, and sub 
 missively hearken to the voice of my countrymen. 
 
 "That's not bad," said the scribe, contemplating with 
 an air of satisfaction the work which he had accom 
 plished. "If this don't place me on a sure footing I 
 don't know what will. Come in!" he exclaimed, spread-
 
 152 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 ing a newspaper over the "call" and reply. ."Why, 
 helloa, Len Gansett! Come in. I was just thinking 
 about you/' Dockery added as he and Len shook hands. 
 "What are you doing over in this part of the country?" 
 
 "Nothing, particularly. The ground is too wet to 
 plough, and " 
 
 "Yes, and you've got a day off. Glad to see you. 
 Wish I could get a day off, my dear fellow, but I cannot. 
 With me it is to work all the time, and when Sunday 
 comes I am too tired to rest. Have you heard the 
 news?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Stage robbed again last night." 
 
 "You don't say so?" 
 
 "That's exactly what I do." 
 
 "Was there much loss?" 
 
 "Several thousand dollars." 
 
 "Has Colonel Bently heard of it?" 
 
 "Yes, one of the boys went over and told him shortly 
 after the stage arrived." 
 
 "He was deeply affected, of course." 
 
 "Hurt him, but he said very little in the presence of 
 the messenger, but when he went into an adjoining 
 room he swore like a sailor.' 3 
 
 "I am sorry for him," said Len. 
 
 "So am I; but it can't be helped." 
 
 "Has there been any attempt to catch the robbers?" 
 
 "Yes, the sheriff and a party of fellows started out, 
 caught up with the robbers, shot at them and chased 
 them until about daylight and then lost them. But I've 
 got something of more importance than the robbery."
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 153 
 
 "You must be going to get married." 
 
 "No, sir. Eead this," lifting the newspaper and hand 
 ing him the "call." 
 
 "What do you think of that?" 
 
 "I don't know. What do you think of it?" 
 
 "Well," said Dockery, after a few moments' reflection. 
 "I think that it is pretty devilish strong. I have seen 
 many a call, and I don't know that I ever saw one more 
 to the point than this one." 
 
 "You are going to reply to it, of course." 
 
 "Eeply to it why, my dear fellow, I have replied to 
 it. Here, read this." 
 
 "That does very well," Len remarked when he had 
 read the reply. 
 
 "Now you're talking, Gansett." 
 
 "Have you any idea who wrote the call, Dockery?" 
 
 "None whatever; but I know that it must have come 
 from a number of prominent citizens." 
 
 "Did it come through the post-office?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Let me see the envelope." 
 
 "What did I do with it?" feeling his coat pockets. "1 
 am quite certain that I had it a moment ago. Humph, 
 what could have become of it?" 
 
 "Dockery, are you quite sure that it came in an 
 envelope?" 
 
 "What? Sure of it? Why, of course I am, when I 
 tell you that it came through the post-office!" 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Oh, what? Confound it, Gansett, what is the mat 
 ter with you to-day? You talk like a detective. Damn it
 
 154 LEX G AN SETT. 
 
 what are you laughing at? Gansett, you may become a 
 good farmer, but your chances of ever understanding 
 politics and the literary graces of statesmanship are slim 
 indeed. Understand, now, I do not say this in depre 
 ciation of your intellect, for you have a strong mind, 
 even though it lacks a certain sort of grasp, but say 
 it in a way of kindly advice, so that you may be warned 
 of the numerous pitfalls which are hidden along your 
 path. You" 
 
 "Your advice is very good, Dockery, but I fear that 
 I have not the grasp necessary to catch it at once. Sup 
 pose you write it out in the form of a call, and let me 
 reply to it." 
 
 "Gansett, you are beside yourself to-day. Do you 
 mean to insinuate that I did not or rather that I did 
 write this call?" 
 
 "I don't insinuate it, old fellow; I simply know that" 
 you did/' 
 
 "Len, if any other living man were to tell me that 
 well, it wouldn't be good for him, that's all. I am 
 astonished at you." 
 
 "Don't let me wound your feelings, Dockery. You 
 are not the first man who has written a call addressed to 
 himself. You see I have not lived in the woods all my 
 life, and am therefore somewhat acquainted with men. 
 It is none of my affair, of course; but I don't want you 
 to think that you can humbug me." 
 
 "Gansett, you are almost insulting." 
 
 "I hope not. Didn't you write that?" 
 
 "No, I didn't. Now what have you got to say?" 
 
 "Well," Len replied, "only that I expect to take the
 
 LEN GANSETT. 155 
 
 stump in favor of some truthful man, a man who is not 
 afraid to stand up and acknowledge the truth." 
 
 "Now, look here, Len, you couldn't go against me." 
 
 "Well, you heard what I said." 
 
 "Let me tell you, Gansett, that I am not afraid to 
 acknowledge the truth. I own that I knew this call was 
 going to be written." 
 
 "Now you are getting down to facts." 
 
 "Yes, I own that, and but this is confidential I 
 acknowledge that I read the call before it was sent 
 through the mail. Now, here, Gansett, I believe that 
 I can make a confidant of you. It did not come through 
 the mail. Len/' sinking his voice to a whisper, "I 
 wrote it." 
 
 "That's what I thought." 
 
 "Yes, that's what I did," the editor continued, "and 
 I'll tell you why. A man of ability might stay forever 
 in this country, might wear out his mental and physical 
 self in promoting the general welfare of the people, and 
 yet they would stand quietly by and see him go unre 
 warded. Therefore, realizing that I deserve reward, and 
 knowing that no one is disposed to take the lead in re 
 warding me, I decided to take it myself. Don't give 
 your old friend away, my dear boy, and rest assured 
 that when I am elected I will discharge my duty. Do 
 you know what I am going to do? I am going to save the 
 tax-payers thousands of dollars by pasing a bill reducing 
 the salaries of State officers. The people are burdened 
 with taxation, and it is my ambition to come to their 
 relief. That's my ticket, and I think it will win. Oh, 
 they've got a race-horse on the track this time, not a
 
 156 LEN GAlfSETT. 
 
 dark horse, but a horse that ain't afraid of the sunlight. 
 What do you say? Hold on; somebody's at the door. 
 Come in!" 
 
 Colonel Bently entered the office. He shook hands 
 with Len and Dockery, and sat down on a home-made 
 chair which the editor brought for him. 
 
 "Have any of the robbers been captured, colonel?" 
 Len asked. 
 
 "JSTot that I know. It seems useless to attempt to do 
 anything. The rascals, after doing their work, can fly 
 to the river-bottoms and find a secure retreat among the 
 cane. I have decided to advertise my stage-coaches 
 I have but two and horses for sale. I cannot stand to 
 be harassed in this way. Perhaps the officers do their 
 best, but their best is very poor. To tell you the truth, 
 I am disgusted." 
 
 "My dear colonel," said Dockery, "don't sell out. 
 The country is improving all the time, and after a while 
 there will be no trouble. I have received a call, from 
 many prominent citizens, asking me to run for the legis 
 lature. If elected, I shall introduce a bill entitled a bill 
 for an act for the better protection of stage lines. Don't 
 give up, my dear colonel, for day is breaking. We have 
 been groping a long time in the night, but a glow in the 
 east tells us that the sun is rising. I do not think I 
 speak boastfully when I say that my political chances 
 cause the sun to rise for this county. You smile in 
 credulously. Unbelief, colonel, is leading this country 
 to everlasting ruin/' 
 
 "Well, Dockery," the colonel replied, "if you run we 
 will all support you/'
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 157 
 
 Dockery sprang to his feet, seized the colonel's hand, 
 and exclaimed: "Noble words, nobly spoken! I knew 
 that I could count on your support, for I have ever 
 known you to be a man who believes in bestowing reward 
 upon him who deserves it. Now 'sir, to show you how 
 much I appreciate your abilities, I open my columns to 
 you, with the request that you express yourself with 
 regard to my general fitness for the position." 
 
 "Gansett might help you, too," the colonel suggested. 
 
 "Help me!" Dockery exclaimed; "why, I should say 
 that he can. My young friend is a writer, a writer with 
 force and integrity. Turn loose, Len, and make a man 
 of yourself. Oh, you can do it! With a little practice 
 your style will blossom like the rose; and, above all 
 other composition, political writing is best calculated 
 to awaken vigor of thought and logic. Wait, gentlemen, 
 until this call is published and then turn yourselves 
 loose." 
 
 "Well," said the colonel, arising, "I must go. I came 
 over to see if the sheriff had done anything, and now, 
 failing to learn that he has, I shall return no wiser than 
 when I came. Len, I have my buggy; won't you ride 
 with me? Come on! I'm in need of company." 
 
 After vigorously shaking hands with the confident 
 candidate, and what candidate is not confident? the 
 two men withdrew. 
 
 "Says he has a call from many prominent citizens," 
 said the colonel,, as he and Len rode along. "Do you 
 know who those prominent citizens are?" 
 
 "I think so," Len replied.
 
 158 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I know," the colonel rejoined. "They are Mr. Man- 
 gus Dockery." 
 
 "I think that you are right." 
 
 "I know it.'-' 
 
 "What are his chances?" 
 
 "Oh, we can't tell. After all, I don't know but he'll 
 do as well as any one we can select. He is not a bad 
 fellow." 
 
 "Were you in earnest about supporting him?" 
 
 "Yes, for, as I tell you, he'll do as well as any one. 
 Let us turn out and give the fellow a chance. He is 
 not inseparably linked to the truth, but I don't believe 
 that he is dishonest. How do you like farming?" 
 
 "I can't say that I like it very well." 
 
 "How would you like to run a weekly paper, the 
 Ticket/ for instance?" 
 
 "I would like it." 
 
 "Well, if Dockery goes to the legislature, you may 
 take charge of the paper." 
 
 "He might prefer to place it in other hands." 
 
 "I think not. The office belongs to me, and if you 
 will consent to take charge of it I'll put in new type, a 
 better press, and employ a good printer. There are 
 people enough in this country to support a good paper, 
 and I believe that you can make a readable sheet. In 
 consideration of his place in the legislature, Dockery 
 will willingly give up the paper. What do you say?" 
 
 "I must say that I am delighted with the idea." 
 
 "All right. With this understanding I will go out 
 and make speeches for Dockery when the time comes.
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 159 
 
 My main object, Len, is to help you along. I see that 
 you are a young man of ability well, I like you." 
 
 "Colonel, I don't know how to express my thanks." 
 
 "Don't try. I shall be rewarded if you make a good 
 paper." 
 
 "I will endeavor to do that. I think that I can soon 
 learn to set type, and then the office will not be so ex 
 pensive. Hold on! I get out here. Well, good-day!" 
 
 The young man's soul was full of a thrilling thought, 
 the thought that the printing-office might be made a 
 school for Ned Hobdy.
 
 160 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 HOT weather came. Len struggled manfully to keep 
 the cockleburrs subdued, but they grew like Jonah's 
 gourd-vine. Far down the corn-rows the hot air danced, 
 and the buffalo-gnats, with their annoying sting, 
 swarmed under the trees. The bell cow and the scrub 
 calf ran with desperate rush through the bushes, and 
 the horse, with a sudden start of terror, wildly threw up 
 his head as the nit fly "zipped" him under his throat. 
 Would it never rain? Dust arose in the field, and the 
 blades of the corn were twisted like ropes. One eve 
 ning the sun went down behind a murky bank of clouds, 
 and in the night Len was awakened by a down-pour of 
 rain. The next morning everything was fresh. The 
 roses in the yard, no longer depressed by thirst, held up 
 their glowing lips in perfumed pout, and the cedar- 
 trees, which yesterday bore wart-like buttons, were now 
 ladened with fungus knots, resembling great yellow 
 spiders. 
 
 "Too wet to plough to-day, Lenqubees," said Mr. 
 Gansett, as the family sat at the breakfast table. 
 
 "I'm glad it is," observed Mrs. Gansett. "I'm jest 
 glad it is, for Len has mighty nigh worked himself to 
 death in that bottom field. Ah, Lord, child, you'll find 
 the life o' a farmer a mighty hard one. Your po' father 
 uster say that he would quite it jest as soon as he got 
 three times seven, an' he did."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 161 
 
 "Yes/' the old man replied, "an* ef lie had stuck to it 
 he mout o' been alive yit." 
 
 "Now, Bob Gansett, what's the use'n talkin' that 
 way? The Lord, in his own good time, called our son, 
 an' no matter where he might 'a' been he would have 
 had to go. Len, it sometimes 'peers to me that your 
 gran'pa is a inferdel. He gits wus and wus all the 
 time/' 
 
 Old Bob winked at Len. The old lady continued: 
 "The last time Brother Murry was here it was all I could 
 do to keep your grandpa in the house while Brother 
 Murry prayed." 
 
 The old man winked again, and said, "I like to hear a 
 good prayer, Sarah; but it strikes me that Murry's got 
 more appetite than religion." 
 
 "I reckon the old apostles had to eat/* 
 
 "Yes, but they didn't go 'round the country for that 
 special purpose." 
 
 "Oh!" with a sigh, "I know you would muzzle the ox 
 that treadeth out the grain." 
 
 "It's all right about the ox that treadeth out the 
 grain, Sarah. I don't want to muzzle him; but then I 
 don't think it's right to take the halter off of a calf an' 
 turn him in the field." 
 
 "Bob Gansett, you sha'n't compare Brother Murry to 
 a calf, for I won't have it. Just look how he has built 
 up the circuit sence he come here." 
 
 "Oh, yes, that's well enough. He's built one log- 
 house and patched up another, and well, he's done well 
 enough. He's a good, strong, healthy man, and gene 
 rally eats what is set before him. If he'd take that
 
 162 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 appetite o* hisn to some big town he could sell it for 
 enough money to build several churches." 
 
 "For the goodness' sake, hush! If I didn't have no 
 mo' religion than you let on like you've got I'd stop 
 goin' to church. Len, have another cup of coffee. It'll 
 be a long time till dinner." 
 
 "It won't be so long to-day, grandma/' Len replied. 
 "It's too wet to plough/' 
 
 Old man Gansett laughed. Mrs. Gansett, slowly 
 shaking her head, remarked: 
 
 "Your gran'pa would like to see ever'body work 
 themselves to death. It's a wonder he ain't wore him 
 self out to a frazzle long ago. I reckon you'll be glad 
 when you git to printin' your newspaper." 
 
 "TTes," Len replied, "I must say that I am looking 
 forward to the time with more than usual interest." 
 
 "I am sorry to lose such a good hand," said the old 
 man, this time winking at his wife; "but if you must 
 go I reckon you must." 
 
 "Don't let him worry you, grandma," Len rejoined. 
 "He and I have talked over the matter and thoroughly 
 understand each other." 
 
 Sometime had elapsed since Colonel Bently had 
 spoken of the newspaper project, yet Len had not told 
 Ne4 Hobdy of his hope that she would consent to work, 
 or rather study, in the office. He ha4 seen her several 
 times, but had not been blessed with an opportunity of 
 explaining the plan which lay so near his heart. Im 
 mediately after breakfast he set out for Hobdy's house. 
 As usual he found Ned in the woods. She advanced to 
 meet him, but he failed to find the wonted light of glad-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 163 
 
 ness in her beautiful eyes. She suffered him to take 
 her hand and permitted him to kiss her. 
 
 "What's the matter, little girl?" 
 
 "Oh, ever'thing." 
 
 "Don't talk that way. Tell me exactly what the 
 trouble is." 
 
 "0 Mr. Len," she sobbed, catching his arm and press 
 ing her face upon it, "I don't know what to do." 
 
 "Do about what? Tell me what is the matter, and 
 perhaps I can advise you." 
 
 She wiped her eyes, put back her hair, and said: 
 
 "Honeycut is at the house. I couldn't stand to hear 
 him talk to dad about me, so I come away. Wait, now, 
 don't you go thar an' git in a row with him. Please 
 don't go!" she implored. 
 
 "I must go, but I won't do anything to make matters 
 worse. Stay here till I come back." 
 
 Without replying she sat down on a log. Len hurried 
 toward the house. Hobdy and Honeycut were in a warm 
 discussion. Just before reaching the door Len heard 
 an assertion that caused him to stop involuntarily and 
 listen. 
 
 "She is too young, I tell yer," said Hobdy. Then the 
 voice of Honeycut a voice which when once heard 
 could never be forgotten replied: 
 
 "She mout be too young fur some folks, but she ain't 
 too young fur me. I'm er lady's man, myse'f, a young 
 lady's man. W'y, ole man, the gals all take airter me 
 when I go fur er walk." 
 
 "Now, here, Mr. Honeycut, yer mus'n't make light uv 
 this here matter. It's powerful serious with me."
 
 1(54 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I ain't ther one whut's makin' light uv it, ole man. 
 You air ther one that's makin' light uv it. Ef yer wa'n't 
 yer'd send fur the preacher right erway." 
 
 "I kain't give her up yit. Wait er little while longer." 
 
 "Oh, that's whut yer allus say." 
 
 "She don't love yer, Honeycut." 
 
 "That don't make no diffunce. She ken 1'arn that 
 airier while. Oh, I'm a lady's man!" 
 
 "Yas; but, Honeycut, yer ain't got nothin' yit ter 
 s'port a wife on." 
 
 "Wall, now, don't yer fool yourse'f, fur I've got some 
 mighty fine prospecks layin' 'roun' loose." 
 
 "Wall, then, it's high time that yer wuz er gatherin' 
 some uv 'em up." 
 
 "Oh, I'll git er holt uv 'em soon ernuff. I've been 
 layin' off er day er two ter come over and fetch things 
 down ter er fine p'int, but somehow couldn't git off. But 
 I'm here now, an* I want ter know ef thar's er settlement 
 in sight." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know what ter do, Honeycut." 
 
 "It's time yer wuz er-knowin'." 
 
 ."You know that I didn't kill that man." 
 
 "Wall, ef yer think yer didn't we'd better take ther 
 erfair ter cou't." 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" 
 
 "Yas, better take it ter cou't. I'm one uv ther best 
 witnesses yer ever seed. I oughter be er jedge, I un'er- 
 stan' law so well." 
 
 Len, clearing his throat so that the inmates of the 
 room might be apprised of his approach, advanced to 
 the open door, looked in, and said:
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 165 
 
 "How are you?" 
 
 "Wy, here's my ole frien'!" exclaimed Honeycut. 
 "Come in, Gansett!" 
 
 Len entered, shook hands with Hobdy, drew up a 
 chair, sat down, and said: 
 
 "Mr. Hobdy, I am making arrangements to take 
 possession of the 'Picket/ printed at Dogwood. As you 
 cannot afford to send your daughter to school, I thought 
 that it would be a good idea to let her work in the 
 office. Of course she could not do much at first, but I 
 would pay her enough to enable you to hire some one 
 to stay with you. By learning to set type she would 
 not only know a good trade, but would, incident to it, 
 acquire an education, more complete in many respects 
 than she could get at school. I have not spoken to her, 
 for I thought it better to consult you first/' 
 
 The old man looked at Honeycut. Honeyeut squint 
 ed, looked at Len, and said: 
 
 "Wanter make er sorter she-devil outen her, I reckon. 
 Er haw, haw! I don't know whut ther ole man thinks, 
 but as his adviser in nearly all family erfairs, I must 
 say for him that ther plan ain't erproved uv. I've been 
 round er printin'-office some, an' I don't think it is er 
 fitten place fur er gal. Thar's men ernuff ter work in 
 ther printin'-offices. .Ther gals mus' do ther house 
 work." 
 
 "You would never regret the step, Mr. Hobdy," said 
 Len, paying no attention to Honeycut's opinion. "Some 
 of the . ablest men and women in the country have 
 received their education at the printer's case." 
 
 "I wish ISTed could go inter it," the old man timidly 
 replied.
 
 166 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "Yer don't wush no sich uv er damned thing!" ex 
 claimed Honeycut. "Er man what's had as many pains 
 as yer have don't know whut's good fur his folks." 
 
 "Honeycut," said Len, "I am talking to Mr. Hobdy, 
 and if you persist in shoving in your views I'll kick you 
 out that door." 
 
 "Oh, no, no!" old man Hobdy whined. "Don't let us 
 have no trouble here. Let him talk, Mr. Gansett, fur 
 he don't mean no harm; do yer, Mr. Honeycut?" 
 
 "No, don't mean no harm, an' don't 'low that no 
 harm shall be did. As the gayardeen uv ther gal I'd 
 ruther she wouldn't go a nigh er printin'-office. Thar 
 ain't no good come outen er printin'-office yit, an' 
 Come in, Ned!" 
 
 The girl entered and, without speaking, seated herself 
 on the edge of the bed. 
 
 "Jes' talkin' about yer," said Honeycut. Ned made 
 no reply. "I said we wuz jes' talkin' erbout yer," Honey- 
 cut repeated. "Gansett, here, 'lows that he's goin' ter 
 take charge uv er printin'-office, an' he 'lows that he 
 wants er gal erbout yer size ter go in an' 1'arn the trade 
 with him." 
 
 Ned quickly looked up. Honeycut, perceiving the 
 sudden change in her manner, and slightly frowning as 
 he noticed her glowing face, continued: 
 
 "He wanted yer ter go in with him, but me an' yer 
 daddy don't think that it would be ther best thing fur 
 yer." 
 
 Ned, turning with an air of sarcasm and addressing 
 Len, said: 
 
 "Ther wolf allus 'pears ter have er int'rust in ther 
 lamb/'
 
 LEN GANSETT. 167 
 
 "Now, Ned," remarked old man Hobdy, "don't talk 
 that way. Mr. Honeycut merely give it as his advice 
 that it won't do fur yer ter go. Thar ain't no purtic'lar 
 hurry, an' we'll talk it all over some other time." 
 
 Len, as he looked at Hobdy, thought that he had never 
 before seen a man so completely cowed. Honeycut 
 stretched out both his legs, shoved his hands deep into 
 his pockets, and insolently threw back his head. 
 
 "Yas," old Hobdy continued, "thar's plenty uv time 
 ter talk over sich matters." 
 
 "No, thar ain't plenty uv time," Honeycut replied. 
 "Yer'd jes' as well give er final answer now. I don't 
 believe in f oolin' erlong with er case like this. Gansett," 
 drawing up his legs, straightening up and addressing 
 Len, "me an' this here young lady, as I once befo' hinted, 
 is engaged ter be married, an' I don't thank yer fur 
 comin' roun' an' meddlin' in erfairs that don't consarn 
 yer; an' now let me tell yer wunst fur all, ef yer want er 
 water-toter an' flo'-sweeper fur yer printin'-office, w'y, 
 yer'll have ter look fur one somewhar else. As they say 
 in er 'batin' s'ciety, this here is all I've got ter say on 
 ther subjec', an' I hope that we won't hear no mo' frum 
 yer." 
 
 "I understand something of the relationship existing 
 between you and the young lady," Len replied, "and I 
 also know that the young lady's taste has not been con 
 sulted. In my office her duties would not consist of 
 carrying water and sweeping." 
 
 "Well," rejoined Honeycut, "I don't kere how much 
 yer know, so long as yer know it ain't none uv yer 
 bus'ness."
 
 168 LEV GANSETT. 
 
 "Well, we'll see about that," Len replied, arising. 
 
 "Don't be in er hurry," said Hobdy. 
 
 "Yes, I must go. Good-morning." 
 
 "Wait," Honeycut called, "an' I'll go a part uv ther 
 way with yer." 
 
 Honeycut joined Len. They walked some distance 
 before either of them spoke. 
 
 "Gansett, I thought that we had come ter some sorter 
 understandin'." 
 
 "I am not responsible for what you think." 
 
 "Uv co'se not, but I don't know what right you've 
 got to inte'fere with me." 
 
 "We won't discuss that." 
 
 "But we must." 
 
 "All right, then, go ahead." 
 
 "I ain't got much to say. I only want ter tell yer that 
 Ned sha'n't go in ther printin'-office." 
 
 "I haven't much to say," Len replied, "but I say that 
 Ned shall go into the printing-office." 
 
 "Wall, 'fo' that day comes, ther grass will be red in 
 spots." 
 
 "That may be true." 
 
 "It won't be my blood that stains ther grass, Gansett." 
 
 "I am glad that you feel at such ease with regard to 
 your safety." 
 
 "I know yer air er putty tough man, Gansett, but I 
 want yer to understand that I ain't so mighty tender." 
 
 "That's all right." 
 
 "N"o, it ain't all right, Gansett. What do yer perpose 
 ter do?" 
 
 "See that Ned works in my office."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 169 
 
 "Wall, I'll see that she don't." 
 
 "By the way, Honeycut, have you seen Mort Haney 
 recently?" 
 
 "No, I hain't; why?" 
 
 "Nothing, only he is still looking for the fellows that 
 whipped him. I saw him yesterday. He had a Win 
 chester rifle. Told me that every chance he had he 
 devoted himself to the investigation of the affair which 
 interests him so much. He seems to think that I have 
 an idea as to who the fellows are. I haven't told him 
 yet that you are one of them, for I don't want you to 
 be found with a hole through your head. I am very 
 tender-hearted in that way." 
 
 "Now, look here, Gansett, what's the use uv all this 
 foolishness?" 
 
 "None whatever. I don't want to tell Haney, hut I 
 am afraid that I shall be forced to do so." 
 
 "Gansett, thar ain't no use'n us fallin' out. I don't 
 know but er printin'-office would be er good place fur 
 ther gal. I must think erbout it. I'm sorter slow in 
 makin' up my mind." 
 
 "It seems so." 
 
 "Yes, but I generally git it made up airter while. 
 W'y, I tell yer whut's er fack, ef that feller Haney 
 thought that I he'ped ter whup him an' I didn't but 
 ef he jes' thought so, he'd fill me so full uv lead that 
 I couldn't walk. Curious feller, that way. Wall, I turn 
 off here. Say, I think we ken fix that printin'-office 
 bus'ness. Good-by."
 
 170 LET* GANSETT. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 "YES," Len mused as he walked along alone, "I think 
 It will be all right. Honeycut may not think so, but fear 
 less honesty can generally overcome desperate villany. 
 Poor child, how much she has to endure, and how 
 patiently she bears it! What a heroine some writers 
 could make of her, and in fiction how great society 
 women would give her their sympathy, though they 
 might see her and talk without emotion to her. This 
 is not their fault, for they could not fathom the depth 
 of her character. It requires a skillful hand to shake 
 and arouse their emotions. I believe that Ned will learn 
 rapidly. Free from the embarrassments of the school 
 room, with no 'superior scholar' to taunt her, she would 
 devote herself to her task. I feel sorry for old man 
 Hobdy, though it seems that if I were in his place well, 
 I don't know what I would do. To-morrow I must go 
 back into this corn," he added, as he reached the fence 
 surrounding the field which he was cultivating. He 
 placed his arms on the fence and stood looking into the 
 field. Hot steam arose from the soil. The corn-blades 
 rustled Avith a sound like gentle waves. The woodpecker 
 with his unmusical cry, fiercely pounded on the branch 
 of a dead tree, and the bull-bat, with smothered bellow, 
 darted at the flies that swarmed above the corn. 
 
 "Think I'll plough this corn one more time and lay 
 it by, as they say here. Who is that, I wonder?" He 
 saw a man coming down a corn-row. "Why does he
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 171 
 
 want to pull up weeds in my field? Why, helloa, 
 Braley!" 
 
 "Hi, Len," said Braley, throwing down a handful of 
 weeds and approaching the fence. Happened ter be 
 comin' through the fiel', an' I jes' eouldn' keep my han's 
 offen whut few weeds I seed. I am er powerful han' 
 thater way." 
 
 "How is your corn, Braley?" 
 
 "Wall, it is powerful in the grass. Ain't got much 
 uv er crap in, but somehow it got ther bulge on me an' 
 run bodaciously away with me. It wouldn't er got erway 
 frum me, but durin' the last wet spell I had ter make 
 er hen-house fur ole Patterson." 
 
 "Did he pay you for it?" 
 
 "Who, ole Patterson?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Wall, no, ole Patterson didn't." 
 
 "Did any one pay you?" 
 
 "Wall, no. Yer see, I couldn't he'p doin' it. Wife, 
 she didn't want me ter go, but as I had allus he'ped ther 
 ole man I couldn't refuse him this time." 
 
 "That's all very well, but he should pay you for your 
 work." 
 
 "Wall, he told me that when I wanted er mid'lin' o' 
 meat I'd know whar ter come fur it. Wife, she 'lows 
 that I'm gittin' lesser an' lesser ercount ever' year; but 
 I don't think so. Wimen allus say that erbout ther 
 men. Wall, I mus' be goin'." He took one hand off the 
 fence, looked around again, placed his hand on the 
 fence, and said: "I'm sorter pushed fur time. Never 
 wuz in sich er rush in my life. Wall, I must be goin'."
 
 172 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 He took both hands off the fence, kicked a clod, broke 
 off a sassafras twig, put it into his mouth, and re 
 marked: 
 
 "Er man has ter hump hisself. He jes' nachully ain't 
 got no time ter fool erround. Wall, I mus' go. "Wife, 
 she sent me out ter git er mid'lin' uv meat, an' I don't 
 'zackly know whar ter git it." 
 
 "Why don't you go to Patterson's?" 
 
 "I would, but ther old man is curi's erbout lettin' er 
 feller have meat. My chillun can eat mo' meat than any 
 set uv chillun I ever seed. 'Peers ter me like the fust 
 thing they do when thep hop outen ther cradle is ter 
 look airter er piece er meat ter chaw on. Mout ride all 
 day an' not find ernuther set uv chillun jes' like 'em. 
 Fine chillun, though! We never did think Tom wuz 
 goin' ter live." 
 
 "Why, because he was so delicate?" 
 
 "Oh, no, 'cause he wuz so smart. W'y, when that 
 boy wa'n't mo'n four year an' er half ole, he could fling 
 er rock over ther top uv er tree as high as that hick'ry 
 yander. Looked fur him ter die ever* day, but he kep' 
 joggin' erlong. He's er snorter, now, an' is er meat-eater 
 frum erway back yander. Wall, I must go; but, ter tell 
 yer ther truth, I don't know whar ter git that meat." 
 
 "Come home with me and I'll give it to you." 
 
 "Sho' 'nuff?" 
 
 "Of course. Come on!" 
 
 "I'll go yer wunst, anyhow. Say, I told wife that I'd 
 go ter Patterson's airter it, an' ef she ever says anything 
 don't yer let on that yer know nothin' erbout it. Ther
 
 LEN GANSETT. 173 
 
 truth, uv ther matter is, I got er couple of mid'lin's 
 frum Patterson yistidy." 
 
 "You certainly have not eaten " 
 
 "Wait till I tell yer. I wouldn't have yer say nothin' 
 erbout it fur ther world, but ther truth of ther business 
 is I got drunk an' lost ther meat in ther woods. I know 
 I oughter be whupped, but I kain't he'p it now. I told 
 wife that I didn't git none, 'cause Patterson wa'n't at 
 home, but that I'd go back ter-day. I don't see how I 
 come ter lose it, fur erbout ther last thing I recolleck 
 'fo' gittin' home wuz ther tight grip I Ml' on ther meat. 
 Thar's somethin' powerful ther matter with me when I 
 turn loose er mid'lin'! Say, when we git ter ther house, 
 jes' git ther smoke-house key while I stan' roun'. I 
 don't want ther old folks ter know I'm on ther place." 
 
 "All right," Len replied. 
 
 Len acted as Braley had requested, and soon the 
 shiftless man, singing in imitation of the strange and 
 weird quill-whoop of the negroes, strode homeward. 
 
 Len was astir early the next morning, not particu 
 larly aroused by an industrious impulse of his own, 
 but drowsily, and, still half dreaming, got out of bed 
 because his grandfather's voice, from the foot of the 
 stairs, insisted upon such a performance. 
 
 The weeks wore on with that lack of incident which 
 farmers from infancy learn to endure, a blight on the 
 rising spirits of youth, but a balm on the declining 
 spirits of old age. 
 
 Young Gansett "laid by" his corn. He looked back 
 at the last furrow when he had reached the end of the 
 row, and, driving his horse into a fence corner, took the
 
 174 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 plough-handles under his arms leaned back, and said: 
 "I hope that this is my last furrow. I don't mind 
 work, but I do mind being a slave to a patch of ground. 
 If I can't make that paper pay but I must, for Ned's 
 sake, make it pay. I knew that when all barriers were 
 removed she would be delighted with the idea. Well, 
 I must take this plough to the barn." 
 
 Dockery's legislative "call" had at first created great 
 merriment among the people. They did not know that 
 the editor had written it; but each man, knowing himself 
 to be a prominent citizen, knew that the "call" had not 
 been submitted to him. The levity soon gave place to 
 serious consideration, for Colonel Bently issued a circu- 
 uar, declaring that Dockery was the man for the position. 
 "I shall," the colonel said in conclusion, "do all within 
 the persuasive power of an earnest man and promoter 
 of my country's interest to secure the nomination of Mr. 
 Dockery. He is zealous and fearless, and, what is most 
 requisite to the character of a legislator, he is pains 
 taking in the work of serving his friends. Therefore, 
 good citizens, let us all turn out and nominate Mr. 
 Dockery." 
 
 The good citizens turned out and the editor was nom 
 inated by acclamation. Dockery was deeply moved by 
 this outburst of patriotism, and, in a voice through 
 which waves of emotion rolled returned his thanks to 
 the convention. 'Tellow-citizens," said he, "on the 
 spur spur of this great occasion, it is imposible for me 
 to express all I feel. I do not on this occasion claim to 
 be a great orator, and if I were I could not find words to
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 175 
 
 express my feelings on this momentous occasion. This 
 august " 
 
 "September," some one shouted. "Ther 'leckshun 
 comes off ther fust Monday in September." 
 
 "I know that, my dear friends. I say that this august 
 assembly is quite enough to daunt the courage of a 
 better-equipped orator than I am; but in the legislature, 
 where I shall not be confronted by such learning and 
 intelligence, I can put my foot on the neck of wrong 
 and take hold of the hand of right. I don't know that 
 I can say more on this occasion. I gratefully thank 
 you." 
 
 The orator was loudly cheered, and when he stepped 
 down he was seized, and, upon the shoulders of several 
 men, was enthusiastically borne from the house. 
 
 As no other candidate appeared in the field Dockery 
 was largely elected. In a two-column article he an 
 nounced his withdrawal from the "Picket." He thank 
 ed his readers for their generous patronage, and thanked 
 his brothers of the press for their courtesy. In the out 
 pouring of his regret at parting from them he forgot 
 that the editor of the "Grange Standard Bearer" had 
 called him a pirate, and that the editor of the "Moun 
 tain Cove Eagle" had threatened to whip him on sight. 
 
 Colonel Bently kept his promise. New type and a 
 new press were ordered, and the office was fitted up in a 
 way that caused Dockery to sigh. 
 
 "Now, Gansett," said Dockery to Len, "if there's any 
 thing about the business you don't understand, why, 
 don't hesitate to ask me. By George, you ought to 
 prosper here. You've got a good printer; cheap, too.
 
 176 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 While I am in the legislature I will keep you posted, and 
 say, I want you pay attention to me. I expect to make 
 several speeches down there that will be of vital interest 
 to my constituents, and well, I'll write out the speeches 
 and send them to you. They'll take considerable work 
 off your hands. Oh, I know all about it. Many a time 
 have I longed for a good, stirring speech, one that 
 scooped fraud and plunged a cold blade into the heart 
 of corruption." 
 
 "I will not forget you," Len replied. 
 
 "I don't intend that you shall, for if you were to do so 
 I alone would not be injured. My constituents would 
 suffer-. "Well, you know that I shall remain here among 
 my people until the last of December, and if during that 
 time I can be of any service to you, let me know. I 
 might, until you get your hand in, write your leaders 
 for you." 
 
 "I don't intend to pay much attention to heavy 
 leaders, Dockery." 
 
 "My dear young man, let me warn you against making 
 such a mistake. A newspaper without a leader is like 
 a man without a coat. What are you going to fill up 
 with?" 
 
 "With local news, editorial paragraphs, amusing arti 
 cles, and careful selections." 
 
 "That's very well, but you've got to have leaders. 
 What the people want is strong political articles, mainly 
 on legislative matters. What was it the poet said? 'We 
 must legislate, we must legislate, or we must perish/ " 
 
 "Educate, you mean," Len replied.
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 177 
 
 "Believe it was educate, but it makes no difference 
 all the same thing." 
 
 Old Bob Gansett had a high opinion of what an 
 editor should be. He had confidence in Len, and though 
 he regretted to see the young man turn from a pursuit 
 so useful and embrace one so ornamental, yet he was 
 willing that Len should consult his own taste. He 
 silently wished that the young man had chosen law; for 
 in the country the lawyer, in his cheap broadcloth, is 
 the embodiment of all that is wise. Mrs. Gansett knew 
 that the pulpit offered greater advantages to a young 
 man of education, and she prayed that Len might be 
 come a circuit-rider. 
 
 Early one morning Ned Hobdy presented herself at 
 the Gansett farm, to accompany Len to the office. Her 
 face was radiant and her eyes shone with the lustre of a 
 new life. As she and Len walked along the road the 
 young man began to tell her of his love. 
 
 "Yer mus' hush that, Mr. Len. I'm goin' thar ter 
 1'arn, an' lessen yer promise me one thing I'll turn right 
 roun' an' go home." 
 
 "I'll promise anything, Fed." 
 
 "Wall, promise that yer never will hint love ter me 
 ag'in till I tell yer ter." 
 
 "Oh, but you might never tell me." 
 
 "Yas, I will when ther time comes. It may be er good 
 while, but I'll tell yer." 
 
 "I'll keep the promise if it kills me." 
 
 "It won't be ap' ter kill yer. We mus' work like 
 fightin' fire, an' mus'n't fool erroun' none." 
 
 When they reached the office, when the girl saw what
 
 178 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 she had to learn, she clasped her hands in a sort of 
 despair, but her face was soon aglow with determination. 
 The printer, a rather old man, named Collins, but who 
 was known to the Guttenberg guild as "Hungry Pete," 
 took great interest in the girl. 
 
 "Get up on this stool/' said he, "and I'll show you the 
 boxes. Know your letters, I suppose." 
 
 "Oh, yas' I ken read er little." 
 
 "All right, then. First thing you know you'll be 
 writing articles for a fashion magazine. By George!" 
 he mused, as he turned to take up a handful of em- 
 quads; "she's the prettiest creature I ever saw. Here, 
 now," he said aloud, "let me sort up your case. Then 
 I'll put up some big type, this way, so you can find the 
 boxes. After a while you'll know the boxes so well that 
 you needn't have the big type. Then you can take them 
 out." 
 
 Len stood looking on. "I'll have to follow your advice, 
 too, Collins," said he; "for I'm going to learn." 
 
 "All right, but if you don't mind I'll take the other 
 stool." 
 
 "Help yourself. I'd rather stand up, anyway." 
 
 "Glad of it. Like to work with a man that would 
 rather stand up." 
 
 "Where did you work last, Collins?" 
 
 "Didn't work. Hoofed it from one place to another." 
 
 "How did you find your way to this place?" 
 
 "Didn't find my way. Just happened here." 
 
 "I see that you are industrious, and I suppose you are 
 sober." 
 
 "Yes, now I am. "Why," turning to Ned, "you're
 
 LEN GANSETT. 179 
 
 picking 'em up right along. Turn the nicks up, this 
 way. That's it. Oh, you'll soon learn!" 
 
 "I hope so; but it's so hard ter pick 'em up, an' then 
 it*s hard to turn 'em loose in ther right place." 
 
 "Yes, but after a while it'll all be as easy as shelling 
 corn. Don't try to hurry. Just take your time." 
 
 When Ned reached home, at night, she found her 
 father standing in the door, looking for her. 
 
 "I'm powerful glad ter see yer," said the old man. 
 "Seems like yer've been gone er month. Ther little 
 nigger does his best, but nobody ken take yer place. 
 Wall," he added, when, after kissing him, Ned had sat 
 down, "how do yer like ther bus'ness?" 
 
 "It's awful pokey an' tiresome, an' I know that ef yer 
 wuz workin' at it ther bad man would come right erlong 
 an' nab yer. I know I'll dream erbout it all night. Oh, 
 it does make me so tired! but I'll 1'arn it, ?ft' then I 
 won't talk like er nigger." 
 
 "Yer talk like er angel," said the old man. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "er black one. I wush yer could 
 see all the funny little things we've got thar. Ter look 
 at them so little an' curi's would make yer laugh, 
 but when yer went ter pick 'em up they'd try ter git 
 outen yer way, an' then ye'd cuss till ther bad man would 
 jump right in airter yer."
 
 180 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 WITH dauntless persistence Ned devoted herself to 
 her work. She soon learned the "boxes," but then it 
 seemed that she was compelled to encounter difficulties 
 still more perplexing. There were so many little things 
 to remember, such exactness demanded, that the girl, 
 scarcely able to correctly spell a word except by closely 
 following her "reprint copy," was sometimes tempted 
 to run away; but it was only for a moment at a time that 
 her spirits would sink. 
 
 "Don't permit anything to discourage you/' Len 
 would say. 
 
 "I won't; but, Mr. Len, I ain't got Farin' ernuff for 
 this sorter bus'ness." 
 
 "The learning will come. You can read better now 
 than you could at first." 
 
 "Oh, yas, an' spell better, too; an' after while I ken 
 talk better. I study my books ever 7 chance I git." 
 
 "That's right. Why, just look, my proof is quite as 
 bad as yours, and I have had the advantages of educa 
 tion." 
 
 "Yes, but you I don't say yer any mo', do I? you 
 ken set set " 
 
 "Manuscript." 
 
 "Yas, you ken set manuscript an' I kain't." 
 
 "But you will learn after a while." 
 
 "I know, but after while is so long."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 181 
 
 "Oh, not so very long. You have only been at work 
 here a little more than a month." 
 
 "Yes, that's so. How I do wish I could set type like 
 Mr. Collins ken!" 
 
 "Why," said the old printer, without looking up from 
 his work, "you can beat me all hollow pretty soon. You 
 have made wonderful progress, and it won't be long 
 until you can correct your own galleys." 
 
 "I'll try it now if you'll let me." 
 
 "No, most too early yet." 
 
 "I know I'm 1'arin' fast, for at night I read to dad. 
 He thinks I'm the finest scholar he ever seen." 
 
 The "Picket" increased in popularity, and the cir 
 culation began to show a slow, but steady growth. 
 
 "Collins," Len one day remarked, "I think .that I 
 have at last found the business for which I am suited." 
 
 "A man that's a failure in everything else generally 
 makes a good editor," the printer replied. "There's a 
 Memphis paper" pointing "that has copied one of 
 your sketches." 
 
 Len eagerly took up the paper. "Yes, here it is, cred 
 ited to the Ticket.' I'll take it home and show it to 
 the old people. Here comes Colonel Bently. Come in, 
 colonel!" 
 
 "Good-morning," said the colonel as he entered the 
 office. "Gansett," he added, as he sat down and placed 
 his arms on a pine table, "you are making an excellent 
 paper, one that would reflect credit upon the intelligence 
 of any rural community." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," Len replied. "Look here," 
 exhibiting the Memphis paper.
 
 182 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Well, I declare!" said the colonel. "That's a first- 
 rate article, and I warrant you that it will go the rounds 
 of the press. Ah, my dear boy, I knew that I was not 
 doing wrong in establishing you here. How are you 
 getting along, Miss Hobdy?" 
 
 Ned blushed and replied that she was getting along 
 very well. 
 
 "What are you doing now?" 
 
 "Correctin' a galley," she replied. 
 
 "She sets a first-rate proof, considering her length of 
 time at the business," said Collins. "I'm going to put 
 her on manuscript pretty soon." 
 
 "Wot till I can read better'n I can now," the girl 
 rejoined. 
 
 "She is a close student," said Len. "I have never 
 before seen any one improve so rapidly. I have realized 
 one thing; that a printing-office, even though it be a 
 small one, is a great school, as far as it goes, and that its 
 methods are practical, although they are technical. I 
 studied punctuation at school, but I find that the print 
 ing-office, in this branch especially, is far better than 
 any school. A good printer, in the matter of punctu 
 ation, is better than an ordinary professor." 
 
 "Yes," the colonel replied, "the printing-office is a 
 school an excellent supplement; yet not broad enough 
 to take the place of more systematic training. It only 
 teaches one branch." 
 
 "But it teaches that branch thoroughly," said Len. 
 
 "Yes," the colonel replied; "but one branch, no mat 
 ter how thoroughly it may be taught, does not suffice." 
 "I know that, colonel; but thoroughness in one thing
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 183 
 
 teaches thoroughness in many things. I do not mean 
 that the duties necessarily devolving upon one in a 
 printing-office can wholly impart knowledge, but I think 
 that it opens one's eyes to the necessity of useful infor 
 mation; in other words, it teaches one to choose the 
 practical, and to throw aside the impractical." 
 
 "Yet, my dear boy, there are thousands of printers 
 who do not lift themselves above who seek nothing 
 further than an acquaintance with the direct appliances 
 of their trade." 
 
 "Yes, for, as a rule, they are not ambitious; but when 
 ever a printer attempts to enlarge his sphere he generally 
 succeeds." 
 
 "That's what he does," said Collins. "If he can't 
 handle ems in one place he hoofs it to another town. 
 Don't know Fatty McGuire, do you, colonel?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, Fatty used to be the toughest in the gang was 
 a regular bum. Where do you suppose he is now?" 
 
 "I have no idea." 
 
 "Well, he's down in Texas, preaching. He's the best 
 mourner's-bench solicitor in that State. When he opens 
 up, the boys weaken. One night in Galveston he caught 
 fourteen printers, or 'comps,' rather," correcting him 
 self. "Oh, no, the boys can't hold out against him." 
 
 "Good preacher, no doubt," the colonel replied. 
 
 "Good preacher why, he's a rip snorter. I worked 
 with him before he joined the church. Didn't think 
 there was much to him; but when I heard him turn 
 loose I just handed my hat to Long Tom he was with 
 me and told him that I caved."
 
 184 LEN QANSETT. 
 
 "I have no doubt but that your friend is a persuasive 
 speaker," the colonel observed; "but don't you think that 
 he would be a still better talker had he gone through a 
 theological college?" 
 
 "No, sir," Collins exclaimed. "His familiar expres 
 sions caught the boys. He didn't quote Greek to show 
 that his creed was the best. He said that he had been 
 a woeful sinner; that he had fallen in love with Christ, 
 not because he was educated into it, but because he 
 couldn't help himself. Even in his longest sermons he 
 didn't waste a single word. He had been used to weigh 
 ing words in his stick, and he knew the heavy one irom 
 the light ones; and, again, he punctuated his lines. He 
 didn't talk fast, but he took his time, and sometimes he 
 would stop and make motions as if he had bad manu 
 script on his case, and couldn't quite catch on to the 
 style, but the first thing we knew he'd go ahead and 
 make us shed tears. He didn't hunt for lurid colors 
 to paint an awful hell with; no, he took a modest brush 
 and painted love and trust all over the house." 
 
 "Did his homely persuasion draw you to the cross?" 
 the colonel asked. 
 
 "Well, yes, and I run with the gospellers for some 
 time, but finally I had to hoof it out of town. I hadn't 
 gone far till I met Jerry Barnes, and that settled it. 
 Jerry had a quart, and that started me on a little breeze. 
 Eoamed around the country awhile, and finally struck 
 this town." 
 
 "You ought to go back to the fold," the colonel sug 
 gested.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 185 
 
 "I can't now. Think it would take Fatty to bring me 
 around all right." 
 
 "When the had man gets you, you won't think of 
 Fatty," Ned remarked. 
 
 "That's about the size of it," the printer replied. "No 
 use of a man going back, though, unless he feels like it. 
 Well, we've talked about long enough. If we want to 
 get up this paper, we've got to pull out." 
 
 From time to time, just as often as the girl's con 
 sciousness of her own worth would permit, Ned's wages 
 were increased. Every Saturday evening, with a pride 
 which delighted her father, she took her money home. 
 Len took but little money home. He regarded himself 
 as fortunate if he were able to pay off. Gradually, 
 though, the paper began to pay better. 
 
 Winter came on, and the honorable Mr. Dockery went 
 down to serve his country. He waited until the house 
 was organized, but he could wait no longer. Then he 
 arose and began a harangue on the tax-burdened condi 
 tion of his people. He had spoken during some fifteen 
 minutes when the speaker informed him that there was 
 no motion before the house, and that he was out of 
 order. Mr. Dockery showed a disposition to argue the 
 point, but a loud rap of the gavel overruled him. 
 
 Pretty soon he introduced a bill, wandering in aim 
 and profuse in construction, asking special favors for 
 the county which he had the honor to represent. The 
 way being thus opened, bills of similar purport were 
 introduced, until it seemed that every county in the 
 State was praying for relief. It was unwise to pass them 
 all, so, as a "starter" in a good direction, Mr. Dockery's
 
 186 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 bill was "killed." The devoted legislator had written 
 to several of the leading men of his county, telling them 
 that the bill would surely be passed. When the great 
 measure of relief was mercilessly and indefinately 
 tabled, Mr. Dockery sent a communication, of which 
 the following is an extract, to the "Picket:" "I have 
 found that this legislature is opposed to our county. It 
 cannot be denied that I have taken the lead in affairs 
 of this session of the Arkansas general assembly; and this 
 being the case, certain jealousies have arisen to take 
 away from me my well-earned distinction. It is as I 
 have repeatedly said: the people are not careful enough 
 in their selections of legislative timber. Small men hold 
 small ideas; narrow men are narrow in their views. I 
 have been told by old politicians that my bill was drawn 
 up in a masterly manner. Of this I cannot say, but I 
 do know that it was framed with the view of relieving 
 my tax-ridden people. I have been honored with a place 
 on the most important committees, and, notwithstanding 
 the failure of my great and humane measure, I feel that 
 I can accomplish much for my county and State." 
 
 In a private note to Len Mr. Dockery said. "I wish you 
 would tell Mose Hardrider that I will pay him just as 
 soon as I get the money. He has written to me three or 
 four times, and must think that I am not good for the 
 amount. It is not right to harass a man who has the 
 cares of state on his mind. A man can do physical 
 labor and, when he puts his tools aside, speak of subjects 
 that annoy him; but, as you by this time doubtless know, 
 a man engaged in mental work cannot put his tools aside. 
 Therefore I wish that Hardrider would attend to his own
 
 LEN GANSETT. 187 
 
 business. It is true that I am getting six dollars per day; 
 but, Gansett, you know that six dollars per day to men 
 in our standing is, after all, a beggarly pittance. I may 
 never again mount the tripod; but, my dear fellow, 
 remember that I shall, no matter where I may be, always 
 cheerfully give you advice. I know that you are modest, 
 yet I do not feel that you will hesitate to call upon me. 
 Say, in your editorial paragraphs and indeed you write 
 them like a professional give me a send-off. Tell the 
 people that I am doing my duty and that I deserve re 
 election. Of course I shall not run again, but well, 
 you know how to fix it. If you should come down while 
 we are in session I shall make a motion that you be in 
 vited to a seat on the floor. This will be a big thing for 
 your paper, and will be the means of getting you a num 
 ber of subscribers here." 
 
 One rainy day when Ned had not come to town, and 
 when the printer had, in consequence of being ahead, 
 taken a "lay off," Honeycut entered the office. Len 
 was reading Dockery's letter when Honeycut entered. 
 
 "Helloa," said the visitor, stamping his feet on the 
 door-sill, "how yer gettin' erlong?" 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Glad ter hear it. Got a sorter int'rust in ther office, 
 you know." 
 
 "You needn't put yourself to any trouble," Len re 
 plied. 
 
 "Oh, 'taint no trouble er tall. I'm er peculiar sorter 
 person that er way," Honeycut added, with a yellow 
 grin. 
 
 "Nobody takes mo' int'rust in his neighbors than I do. 
 Whar's Ned?"
 
 188 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 "Miss Hobdy did not come to-day." 
 
 "Reckon she stayed at home, then." 
 
 "I suppose she did." 
 
 "Wall, sar, she's gittin' so high up that I kain't hardly 
 talk ter her. Ken talk well ernuff, but kain't hardly 
 understan' her. Never seed anybody climb up in ther 
 pictures so fast. I wuz over ter ther ole man's las' night, 
 and Ned couldn't do nothin' but read her boak an' talk 
 erbout it. Putty smart gal, after all, an' will make er 
 putty good wife, an' she's gittin' erbout ole ernuff now." 
 
 "I suppose," Len replied, "that she will consult her 
 own pleasure with regard to marriage." 
 
 "I don't know erbout that. I reckon that when a 
 man's engaged ter er gal he's got er right ter hurry up 
 ther erfair." 
 
 "Yes, and I suppose that she has a right to break the 
 engagement." 
 
 "Sometimes yas, an' sometimes no. Yer've know'd 
 all erlong that me an' her wuz goin' ter git married, an' 
 I don't think that yer've got er right ter interfere. I ken 
 stan' er good deal, am willin' ter put up with er heap, 
 but I've got ernuff uv yer med'lin', Mr. Gansett. I tuck 
 old -man Hobdy off ter one side las' night an' had er 
 long talk with him, an' he tells me that he's mo'n willin' 
 fur me an' Ned ter get married. Er good man aughter 
 marry er gin he's as old as I am, an' bein' er good man 
 merself, I think that my time has erbout got here." 
 
 "I believe we had a talk about Mort Haney some time 
 ago," said Len. 
 
 "Yas, bTeve we did." 
 
 "I told you, I believe, that he wanted to find out who 
 whipped him last spring."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 189 
 
 "Yas, b'l'eve yer did." 
 
 "I told you then that I knew one of the parties." 
 
 "Correck; go erhead." 
 
 "You were unwilling to give your consent " 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "But when I told you something, you consented." 
 
 "That's it." 
 
 "Well, if you devise any scheme for taking that girl 
 from this office I will tell him that you assisted in whip 
 ping him." 
 
 Honeycut grinned, took off his hat, rubbed his head, 
 and replied: 
 
 "Ain't heard from Mort lately, I reckon." 
 
 "No, not very recently." 
 
 "That's what I thought." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Wall, he don't kere now who whupped him. He's 
 down with newmony, an' ther doctor said this mornin' 
 that he couldn't live till night. Mighty sorry, fur Mort 
 is er good-hearted feller. He's ready now ter forgive 
 ever'body, an' I thought I'd go by an' tell him that I 
 know'd who whupped him." 
 
 "You infernal hound!" exclaimed Len; "do you sup 
 pose that I will allow you to marry that girl?" 
 
 "Oh, wall, ther gal will do jest whut ther ole man 
 says. Ther ole man an' me air good frien's, an' he'll do 
 jest whut I say. Wall, podner, I've got ter go. Must 
 go over ter Hobdy's ter-night. Say," he added when he 
 had reached the door, "ef Ned don't come ter-mor' yer 
 needn't be s'prised, fur ther mout be some marryin' 
 goin' on putty soon. Good-day. BTeve I'll go by an' 
 see when Mort's goin' ter be buried."
 
 190 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XX. 
 
 WHEN Honeycut departed, which he did after many 
 knowing winks and not a few repetitions of a malicious 
 grin, a facial accomplishment which he had highly 
 cultivated, Len, in a perplexed state of mind, sat down 
 and gave himself up to agitated meditation. He knew 
 that in the event of Haney's death Honeycut would play 
 upon Hobdy's fear until the old man would implore his 
 daughter to relinquish her place in the printing-office. 
 The editor decided to go over to Hobdy's without delay, 
 and, with this idea in view, he closed his office early in 
 the afternoon and set out for the home of the beautiful 
 apprentice. 
 
 Occasional gusts of rain, in fitful sputter, came down. 
 The muffled dove, high upon the dead branch of a tree, 
 tucked down her head in resignation, and the crow, with 
 cheerless cry, flew over the old field long since given up 
 to sedge grass, running briers, and sprouts. The clouds 
 were full of frowns and tears angry meditation and 
 violent outbursts of grief. The water, falling upon the 
 dead leaves, produced a feeling which is nowhere felt 
 save in the country, the feeling that an old man has 
 just been buried. In the winter, when the tall trees are 
 bare, and when the saplings, with youthful attachment, 
 cling to their dead leaves, the fresh clay thrown from an 
 old man's grave seems to invite the rain. 
 
 "I hardly know what to do," Len mused as he strode 
 onward. "I can tell the old man what a pity it would
 
 be to take Ned from the office; but can I keep her, if 
 he insists upon it, from marrying that wretch? Of 
 course she would do almost anything to protect her 
 father, but to yield to a fate a thousand times worse than 
 death well, the old man should not think of such a 
 thing. But, after all, how can he help himself? His aim 
 is to protect his own life; but can he not, and with de 
 fensible cause, kill Honey cut? Damn it, can I not kill 
 him! No; it would be murder, a murder which neither 
 God nor man would excuse. I wish that the scoundrel 
 would try to kill me! I believe it would be a Christian 
 act to provoke him. So help me, God, yonder he stands 
 in the road!" 
 
 Honeycut waited for Len to approach. 
 "Wy, helloa/' said he, when Len drew near, "whut 
 air yer doin'? Tryin' ter slip edgeways 'twixt these 
 showers? Ef yer air goin' my way I'll jine yer. Been 
 er-pokin' round' in ther woods ever sense I left yer. 
 Seed one uv ther Tally boys jest now, an' he tole me that 
 Haney ain't no better. Pity fur sich er man ter die, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, when there are other men who so much more 
 deserve death," Len replied. 
 
 "That's whut I 'lowed, an' is whut I'm goin' ter say 
 at ther burryin'. Never seed me at er fun'ral, did yer? 
 Oh, I'm ther cap'n when it comes ter burryin' folks! 
 Euther burry er good man than ter eat. Better ter me 
 than a candy-pullin'. Do yer know these heah woods 
 is gittin' dang'us? They air. Feller wuz tackled in 
 here t'other day. 'Fore I left town er frien' uv mine, 
 big merchant, 'suaded me ter take this here pistol." He
 
 ]92 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 drew out a large pistol, looked at it, returned it to its 
 place and added: "Wouldn't like ter shoot er good man, 
 but he mustn't shove me. Hain't got er pistol, have 
 
 yer?" 
 
 "No," Len replied, before he thought. He immedi 
 ately perceived a change in Honeycut's countenance. 
 
 "Wall," Honeycut replied, with a grin, "when yer 
 want one let me know, an' I'll 'commerdate yer. Pow 
 erful ban' ter 'commerdate folks. My father an' all my 
 folks wuz thater way. Look here, whicher way yer 
 goin? Ain't that yer neardest road?" pointing. "Yer 
 mus' be goin' summers else." 
 
 "I don't know that it's any of your business." 
 "No, not in purticuler. Jest thought I'd ax." 
 For some distance they walked on in silence. 
 "Goin' over ter Hobdy's, ain't yer?" Honeycut asked. 
 "Yes." 
 "Whut fur?" 
 "None of your business." 
 
 "I reckon it is, though. Now, look er here, young 
 feller, I wanter tell yer suthin'. I want yer ter stop 
 med'lin' with my bus'ness. I never have fooled with yer 
 er tall, an' with me ever'thing went on all right tell yer 
 come inter ther neighborhood. I reckon yer air er leetle 
 stronger than I am, but gunpowder talks as well fur one 
 man as fur ernuther. Yer needn't go over ter Hobdy's. 
 I ain't erfeered that yer ken change ther ole man's mine, 
 but yer mout worry ther gal." 
 
 "It doesn't make any difference to me what you want." 
 
 "No, an' it didn't make no diffunce ter ther June bug 
 
 what ther duck wanted, but it happened that ther duck
 
 LEN GANStiTT. 193 
 
 wanted ther June bug. Don't walk so clost ter me. 
 Keep off er leetle. This here pistol is powerful easy on 
 trigger. Yer mout think yer could jump on me an' 
 take it away from me, but yer kain't." 
 
 "It is against the law to carry concealed weapons," 
 Len remarked, deeply regretting that he had failed to 
 provide himself with one. 
 
 "Yas, ergin ther law; an' it's ergin ther law ter kill 
 er man, yet folks do it." 
 
 "Murderers do." 
 
 "That's whut they tell me." 
 
 "You ought to know without being told." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, I daresay you might, to some extent, rely on your 
 own experience." 
 
 "I don't know what yer air tryin' ter git at, young 
 feller, an' I don't keer a damn, but what I said jes' now 
 erbout not wantin' yer ter meddle in my erf airs is jes' 
 whut I meant. Me an' ther ole man has got 'rangements 
 that nobody but ourselves understands' an' which it 
 would be sorter dang'us ter pry inter." 
 
 "Honeycut, your warning is wasted on me. It is like 
 throwing sand against a suspended wire. None of it 
 finds a lodgment. I know that you are a desperate fel 
 low, and that if it were not for the keen interest which 
 you feel in your own safety you would attempt to do me 
 violence. I know that you are incapable of a manly 
 thought or generous impulse, and, above all, I know that 
 you are a damned coward. Just now I told you that I 
 had no pistol. If I have told an untruth, pardon me." 
 
 Honeycut's manner underwent an instant change.
 
 194 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 "Thar ain't no use'n jowerin'," said he. "Reckon a man 
 ken talk. Jes' wanted yer ter un'erstan' that I didn't 
 want yer ter meddle with my bus'ness. Ain't nothin' 
 wrong in that, but here yer go an' git mad'n er wet hen. 
 Ef yer want ter go over an' call on ther ole man, w'y, uv 
 co'se I kain't keep yer frum it; but I ken keep ther gal 
 frum workin' in ther printin'-ofnce, an' I'm goin' ter 
 do it." 
 
 "Well, we'll see about that." 
 
 "B'l'eve I'll turn off here an' go by er place whar I've 
 got some business that needs tendin' ter. Yer won't 
 be over at thar old man's many minits till yer see me er 
 jog'in' erlong in ther cummunity. So long." 
 
 Len did not reply. He did not even look to see which 
 direction Honeycut had taken, but, with quickened step, 
 hurried onward. A nervous fear lay cold against his 
 heart. When he reached Hobdy's house he found Ned, 
 seemingly forgetful of surroundings, bending over a 
 book. She looked up with a start when Len tapped on 
 the facing of the opened door. 
 
 "Come in," she said, arising and placing a chair near 
 the fire. "Why, how wet you are! What made you come 
 out on such a day? Come over here to scold me for not 
 comin' coming to the office this morning, didn't you?" 
 
 "How could you come when the weather was so bad? 
 Where is your father?" 
 
 "Gone to his trap. He'll be back putty pretty soon, 
 and maybe he'll bring some partridges with him. If he 
 does, I must send some over to your grandma." 
 
 "What are you reading?" Len asked, taking the book 
 from her lap. 
 
 "It's a grammar."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 195 
 
 "Ah, hah, becoming more and more a student. Do 
 you like grammar?" 
 
 "I don't know enough about it to tell yit yet. It's 
 full of awful hard words, and sometimes it gets as dry 
 as a chip in August; but I stick to it." 
 
 "You can't do anything with it alone." 
 
 "Yes, I can, but I don't get along as fast as I could 
 if somebody was to help me; but, after all, when I learn 
 anything by myself I know it better than if somebody 
 was to learn it to me." 
 
 "Teach it to you. No one can learn you anything, 
 but can teach you." 
 
 "I'll remember that, but there are so many little 
 things to remember. Here comes dad, but he ain't got 
 no partridges." 
 
 "Evenin', evenin' ter yer," said Hobdy, as he entered 
 the room. "Keep yer cheer. Wall, how're yer gittin' 
 along?" he added as he and Len shook hands. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Does my gal put yer ter any trouble?" the old man 
 asked, as he drew up a chair and sat down. 
 
 "Oh, no, she does her work so well that it is a pleasure 
 to have her in the office." 
 
 The old man smiled, looked at his daughter and 
 said: 
 
 "An* 1'arn w'y, I never seed ther like. She ken read 
 now almost like er preacher. Fur some time she's been 
 readin' me a mighty fine book that she got in town. It's 
 all erbout er young feller that had a step-daddy that I 
 would like to knock down, an er big ole feller wuz allus 
 watin' what wuz he watin' fur, Ned?"
 
 196 LEN OANSETT. 
 
 "Something to turn up. The book is 'David Copper- 
 field/ " 
 
 "Oh, yes; allus wain' fur suthin' ter turn up. Thar's 
 some powerful fine readin' in that book. Sometimes I 
 git sorter skeer'd an' don't see how things air goin' ter 
 turn out, but airter while they come out all right. When 
 N"ed got through with it I told her ter begin at the fust 
 an' read it all over ag'in; and she dun it, sar, dun it as 
 easy as er greased wag'in goin' down hill. I want her 
 ter keep on er readin' it till I can. almost talk it off. 
 Then when she's erway I ken think erbout it an' laugh 
 at ther funny ole feller, an' kick ther step-daddy, an' 
 haul off an' smack his heffer uv a, sister that tuck the 
 keys away frum ther boy's mother. An' that other fel 
 ler that worked fer ther lawyer, ther feller that grab 
 bed holt uv er hoss an' breathed in his nostrils " 
 
 "Uriah Heep," said Len. 
 
 "Yes, that's ther very feller. Do yer know what I'd 
 like ter do?" I'd like ter take er green hoop-pole, stan' 
 off erbout five feet, an' wrap it eroun' him erbout three 
 times." 
 
 "Think it would do him good, eh?" Len laughingly 
 replied. 
 
 "Don't know erbout that, but it would do me er pow 
 erful chance uv good ter larrup him. Lemme see, thar 
 wuz ernuther feller, what's his name, Midlirf, I 
 b'l'eve." 
 
 "Midling" Len repeated. 
 
 "Yas, ther feller that went out in ther water ter keep 
 er feller frum drowndin' an' got drownded hisse'f." 
 
 "Oh, you mean Ham, Ham Peggotty."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 197 
 
 "Yas, Ham, that's er fack. Knowed his name wuz 
 hog-meat uv some sort. Now, Ham, he wa'n't no slouch, 
 as yer go erlong." 
 
 "No, he was a good and brave fellow." 
 
 "Oh, he wuz er spunky feller as ever lived. Whut 
 'pears ter be the matter with yer, Mr. Gansett? Look 
 like yer air sorter sad erbout suthin'. Ef thar's anythin' 
 ther matter, out with it." 
 
 Ned looked searchingly at Len. "Is it something 
 about me?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes," Len replied, "it is something about you." 
 
 He then related a part of the conversation which he 
 had held with Honeycut, taking care, however, to make 
 no allusion to Haney. The old man's face grew dark. 
 "Ned," said he, slowly turning to his daughter, "wush 
 yer would go out erwhile till me an' Mr. Gansett talk 
 this here matter over." 
 
 Ned obeyed without replying. When she reached the 
 door she turned and cast an imploring glance at Len. 
 
 "I don't know what ter do," said old man Hobdy, 
 when Ned had gone. "How come him ter change his 
 notion? T'other week he talked like he wuz might'ly 
 pleased." 
 
 "It is useless to attempt to keep up with his whims," 
 Len replied. "The best plan, in fact, is to pay no 
 attention to him." 
 
 "Wush ter God I could pay no ertention ter him, but 
 what am I ter do? Yer see he's got me on his hip, an' 
 ken fling me any way he wants ter." 
 
 "I do not believe that it is so bad as you think. A 
 threat is quite enough to settle the coward. Tell him
 
 198 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 plainly that if he interferes with your affairs that you 
 will kill him." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, I can't do that, fur he knows that I 
 wouldn't kill him. Ain't that him er comin' yander? 
 Yas, it is. Hush, Mr. Gansett! Don't let him know 
 whut we wuz talkin' erbout." 
 
 Honeycut entered without ceremony, sat down, 
 stretched out his legs and struck the heels of his boots 
 together, scattering mud over the hearthstone. 
 
 "How's yer rheumatiz, ole man?" Honeycut asked. 
 
 "Ain't felt it fur some time," Hobdy replied; "but I 
 don't know how soon it mout hop erstraddle uv me." 
 
 "N"o, I reckon not, but yer air well ernuff ter go ter 
 er weddin', ain't yer?" 
 
 "Who is going to be married?" Len asked, giving 
 Honeycut a look not bespeaking gentleness. 
 
 "I am me an' Ned." 
 
 "When do you think the ceremony will take place?" 
 Len asked. 
 
 "Thought it mout take place ter-mor'." 
 
 "So soon?" Len inquired, with mock interest. 
 
 "Yas, never like ter put nothin' off too long. Ef yer 
 air in ther neighborhood yer better come roun." 
 
 "I think that I will be present when Miss Hobdy is 
 married, but I don't think she will be married very 
 soon." 
 
 "Yer 'pear ter know suthin' erbout it/' 
 
 "Oh, yes, I generally keep well informed with regard 
 to the actions of people in whom I take an interest." 
 
 "Putty smart feller, ain't yer?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 199 
 
 "Well, I hope that I am not a fool, and I'm pretty 
 certain that I am not a coward." 
 
 "That mout be," Honeycut replied, nodding his head 
 toward Hobdy, "but I know er ole feller what ain't so 
 brave." 
 
 "Gentlewm," said Hobdy, "please don't talk p'inted. 
 I'm gittin' ole, an' don't know when ther rheumatiz 
 mout hop straddle uv me, so don't talk p'inted." 
 
 "Never yer mine," replied Honeycut, "me an' him air 
 talkin' now. Me an' yerse'f will talk when he goes 
 home." 
 
 "I have said nothing of going home," Len rejoined. 
 
 "No, but if yer don't want ter hear me an' ther ole 
 man talkin' erbout ther weddin' yer better go. Hobdy, 
 I wanter take Ned outer ther printin'-office right erway. 
 What do yer say?" 
 
 "W'y, Mr. Honeycut, yer know " 
 
 "Never mind," Len broke in; "don't pay any attention 
 to this fellow. The girl shall not be taken from the 
 office, from an employment in which she takes so much 
 interest, an employment which has opened uf) a new 
 life to her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, Mr. Gansett," said old Hobdy; "but I reckon 
 she's dun larn't ernuff. She w'y, here's Braley! Come 
 in, Mr. Braley; wuz jes' talkin' erbout yer. Set down." 
 
 Braley shook hands all around. He had just returned, 
 he said, from an expedition which he hoped would be re 
 warded with a middling of meat, but which had been a 
 failure. 
 
 "Drapped in, as I come erlong, to see Mort Haney."
 
 200 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Honeycut looked up. Len, in tones of anxiety which 
 he could not conceal, asked: 
 
 "How is Haney? Does the doctor think that there is 
 any hope of his recovery?" 
 
 "Wall, he aughter. Mort is pickin' up right erlong. 
 Wuz eaten er ash-cake while I was thar. He got better 
 all on er sudden. Oh, he's all right, an* will be out in 
 'er day ur two." 
 
 Honeycut got up, and, addressing Hobdy, said: 
 
 "I wuz jes' er-jokin' erbout advisin' yer ter take yer 
 daughter outen ther printin'-offke. I reckon it's ther 
 best place fur her. Wall, folks, I mus' be er-shovin'. 
 Good-evenin'."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 201 
 
 XXI. 
 
 SUGGESTIONS of spring were breathed in the air, the 
 cold wind of winter was softened into the budding 
 season's gentle sigh. The legislature had adjourned. 
 Doekery, with his characteristic love for the discharge of 
 duty, had voted for an extension of the time. The. 
 session had been extended, and during a few more days 
 the ex-editor had enjoyed the distinction of law-making; 
 but now the distinction was gone, and he had returned 
 home to receive the praise and the censure of his con 
 stituents. 
 
 "Gansett," said Dockery, meeting Len shortly after 
 the praise, but particularly the censure, had begun to 
 sound in his ears, "don't you think that I discharged 
 my duty? Sit down here on this log" they had met in 
 the woods "and tell me like a man. I know you can 
 talk like a man when you want to. Damn it!" lowering 
 his voice, "my sensible constituents are pleased, but my 
 weak ones have the temerity, or lack of sense, rather, to 
 insinuate that I was not only derelict, but that well, in 
 short, they impugn my motives. They have talked in 
 this way until I am sick; so now, my brave boy, I want 
 you to say something to lift me up point out in your 
 own masterly way the good features of my stewardship. 
 Just give it to them from the shoulder. In short they've 
 got a horse on me, and I want you to take up the thing 
 and give them one dash out of the box. What do you 
 say?"
 
 202 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I don't think that there's any use in saying anything," 
 Len replied. "There is no campaign going on. Let the 
 matter rest." 
 
 "Let hell rest!" 
 
 "Well., yes, let hell rest, for I should think that it 
 needs one." 
 
 "That's good enough for a side remark; but now, 
 really, let us get down to business. I want you, as a 
 favor to me, you know that I elevated you to the high 
 position which you now occupy in the great fraternity 
 of journalism, yes, as a favor to me, to me, you under 
 stand, I want you to give me a few lines wait a minute. 
 Here is something I've scratched off. I'll read it." He 
 then read the following: 
 
 "There is no position more trying than that of a 
 legislator. It is impossible to please everybody, and 
 sensible men understand this, but there are a few cranks 
 who do not. The best people of this county know that 
 the Hon. Mangus Dockery has discharged his duty; that 
 he was the leading member of the house and chairman 
 of one of the important committees; that his speeches 
 were the best of the session; that he warmly supported 
 the bill reducing the ruinous salaries of State officers, but 
 there are a few envious sore-heads who are growling at 
 the Hon. Mr. Dockery. Chief among these is old Mat 
 Mason. Everybody knows that Mat is a fool, and that, 
 for some of his little practices, he narrowly escaped the 
 penitentiary several years ago. He is a disgrace to this 
 community. We have taken much interest, have studied 
 with pleasure and profit the high political course taken
 
 LEN GANSETT. 203 
 
 by the Hon. Mr. Dockery, and we believe that he is 
 good congressional timber." 
 
 "How does that strike you?" Dockery asked, carefully 
 folding the paper and placing it on Len's knee. "Does 
 she go?" 
 
 "I'll print it on one condition." 
 
 "Name an honorable condition, and I will accept it, 
 Gansett. What is the condition?" 
 "That you sign your name to it." 
 "My stars alive! man that would never do." 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Why?" Damn it, don't you know why? Old Mat 
 came in one of going to the penitentiary for killing a 
 man. If I were to sign it he'd shoot me." 
 
 "Yes, and don't you suppose that if I were to print 
 it as an editorial he would shoot me?" 
 "Not the least danger in the world." 
 "Then why would he shoot you?" 
 "Because he don't like me, and has had it in for me 
 for some time." 
 
 The paper fell to the ground. A breeze caught it up 
 and bore it several yards away. Dockery arose to go 
 after it, but, after advancing a few steps, turned, and 
 said: 
 
 "Gansett, I did not think that you were afraid of any 
 body. I had always thought that you were a fighter." 
 "I hope," Len replied, "that you never thought I was 
 a fool." 
 
 "Oh, now, here, what's the use in trying to turn it 
 off that way? Print the thing, and I will make it all
 
 204 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 right with you. An act of simple justice was never lost 
 on me, Gansett." 
 
 Then they engaged in a heated discussion more char 
 acterized by force than by elegance of expression. They 
 did not observe the approach of an old fellow with long 
 hair and frowsy eye-brows. The old fellow was Mat 
 Mason. He was walking with his head inclined forward, 
 and with his eyes cast downward. Another breeze had 
 blown the paper still farther away. Mason, suddenly 
 coming upon it, took it up and began to spell out its 
 contents. When he had read it he looked about him, 
 and, seeing Len and Dockery, he cautiously approached. 
 "Now," said Mr. Dockery to Len, "there is no earthly 
 danger in printing it. I don't want him to know that 
 I wrote it, for " 
 
 "The danger has nothing to do with it," Len broke in. 
 "The question of justice is the one to be considered. 
 Mason has never done me any harm/' 
 
 "Yes, but he has hurt the county and State by his war 
 on me, damn him! I Why, how are you, Mr. Mason? 
 I I am glad to see you." 
 
 Len burst out laughing. Dockery said: 
 "Gansett and I were just talking about you. I said 
 that you had made war on me, but that you did it not 
 through bad motives, but because you were honestly 
 mistaken in me." 
 
 "Yas, glad ter he'r yer say it. By ther way, Mr. Dock 
 ery, I'm lookin' fur er man." 
 
 "Who's the man? If I can aid you in your search I 
 shall most willingly do so." 
 
 "Fm lookin' fur ther feller what writ this here," said
 
 LEN 6ANSETT. 205 
 
 the old man, striking the palm of his left hand with the 
 paper. Dockery turned pale. 
 
 "Know anything erbout it?" old Mat asked. 
 '"Let me see it," said Dockery. He took the paper 
 and with trembling hands held it out and pretended to 
 read it. "No, sir," said he, "I don't know who wrote 
 it, but if I find out I'll come and tell you. If he be a 
 friend of mine, and he seems to be, I will reprimand 
 him." 
 
 "Yas, I reckon so. Mr. Gansett, do you know who 
 writ this paper?" 
 
 "I will shield the fellow," Len had been musing. "He 
 has no courage, and cannot help it." When old Mat 
 asked the question, Len quickly replied, "I wrote it, 
 and while we were discussing its main points a breeze 
 blew it away." 
 
 "Yes," said Dockery, "a breeze in fact, an ill wind 
 which blows no good blew it away." 
 
 "Mr. Gansett, I like er brave man, an' nothin' stirs 
 me more than ter see er man take on himself suthin' 
 what another man is er feered ter acknowledge. I 
 heard whut yer wuz talkin' erbout, an' I know that 
 Dockery writ this stuff. I oughter kick him all through 
 these woods, but as he has sich er noble man interested 
 in his cause I'll satisfy myself by givin' him one only." 
 
 He gave Dockery a vigorous kick, and without re 
 maining to exchange another word, sauntered away. 
 Dockery looked after him, and when he was beyond ear 
 shot, said: 
 
 "He thinks he's the smartest man in this eommunity, 
 but he's a damned fool/'
 
 206 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Why didn't you knock him down when he kicked 
 you?/' Len smilingly asked. 
 
 "Gansett," Dockery impressively replied, "acts of 
 violence do not enter into my mode of warfare. I make 
 war on corruption in high places. I battle for the lowly 
 and humble, not with a brute force, but with the might 
 ier weapon of the brain. I was astonished at you, Len." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Don't you know that when you told Mason that you 
 wrote the thing he disputed your word. Might just as 
 well have called you a liar. You ought to have knocked 
 him down. - Oh," the ex-editor continued, when Len 
 burst out laughing, "it's no laughing matter. A man 
 must protect his honor. Well, I must be going. Isn't 
 that Mason coming along yonder? No, it's old Mort 
 Haney. Well, take care of yourself." 
 
 The "Picket" was now quite a newspaper. Old Bob 
 Gansett declared that it was the best sheet ever printed, 
 and his wife asseverated that if her dear grandson would 
 only print more religious and less news matter the paper 
 would be a great blessing to the community. The old 
 couple were proud of Len. Mrs. Gansett was particularly 
 so after hearing Brother Murray say that the editor was 
 a man of good sense, and that he would have made an 
 excellent circuit rider. 
 
 "Ned grows better-looking all the time," old Bob one 
 evening remarked to Len. "Never saw such a change in 
 a gal, never in my born days. Smart, too, eh?" 
 
 "One of the most intelligent creatures I have ever 
 seen. She makes me ashamed of myself." 
 
 "Sets type right pert, I reckon."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 207 
 
 "Yes, and not only that, she has became quite a 
 grammarian. She reads the best books, and instead of 
 being a simpering girl, such as the schools turn out, she 
 is thoughtful and deep. Instead of being the girl who 
 writes, 'Classmates' we have met to part, to go out into 
 the busy world/ and so on, she can write up an event in 
 a correct and concise, way. She is a wonderful girl." 
 
 "Have you said anything to her lately about 
 marryin' ?" 
 
 "I hinted at something of the kind yesterday, but she 
 reminded me of a promise I was compelled to make her 
 when she first went into the office." 
 
 "Has Honey cut said anything more?" 
 
 "No, he keeps out of the way. I think that Colonel 
 Bently said something to him." 
 
 "Did you speak to the colonel about it?" 
 
 "No, but I am inclined to think that Ned did." 
 
 "Bently is the only man that can do anything with 
 Honeycut." 
 
 "Yes, for the reason that he almost supports the fel 
 low. Bently does not like him, but cannot resist his 
 entreaties." 
 
 "Is old Hobdy satisfied?" 
 
 "Thoroughly. He has become passionately fond of 
 novels, and declares that he has entered upon the hap 
 piest time of his life." 
 
 "Len," said Mrs. Gansett, entering the room, "I've got 
 some good news for you." 
 
 "What is it, grandma?" 
 
 "W'y, Brother Murray tells me that he will write out 
 Ms sermons an' let you print 'em."
 
 208 LEX GAN8ETT. 
 
 Len's countenance fell. The old man roared with 
 laughter. 
 
 "Now, Bob, you neenter laugh, for it is a fact. He 
 told me so yistidy." 
 
 "Oh, I don't doubt he told you/' 
 
 "Then whut air you laughin' at?" 
 
 "Laughin' at Len." 
 
 "Whut air you laughin' at him fur? He did tell me 
 so/' 
 
 "Oh, I don't doubt that." 
 
 "Whut, then air you laughin' at? Say." 
 
 "Ask Len." 
 
 "Whut is he laughin' at, Len?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose he thinks that I don't care to print the 
 sermons." 
 
 "But you do, don't you?" 
 
 "Well, I can't say that I hanker after the distinction." 
 
 The old lady uttered an exclamation of astonishment, 
 and with an air of bewilderment regarded her grandson. 
 
 "I don't question their merit, grandma," said Len, 
 "but I cannot afford to fill up my paper with them." 
 
 The old lady sighed and turned awa} r . Old man Gan- 
 sett sprang from his seat, hastened to the door, and 
 looked out. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter, Bob?" the old lady 
 asked. 
 
 The old man, turning from the door, said, "No, he 
 hasn't done it yit." 
 
 "Who hasn't done whut? Tell me." 
 
 "Why, Brother Murray hasn't set the river afire yit." 
 
 "You good-for-nothing!" the old lady rejoined, smil-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 209 
 
 ing in spite of herself. "You need a beatin', if anybody 
 in this world ever did. It 'pears like the older you git 
 the wus you air. Never mind, you'll think o' all this 
 when I'm dead an' gone. You'll think o' how you have 
 mighty nigh harassed the life outen me. Never mind, 
 sir. It'll all come back to you when it's too late." 
 
 One day Bently came to the office and told Len that 
 he had urgent business with him. An addition to the 
 office had been built, and Len now enjoyed the luxury 
 of a room from intrusion. When the colonel had been 
 conducted to the room, Len, after closing the door, 
 said: 
 
 "Now I am at your service/' 
 
 "Are you very busy?" 
 
 "No, not very." 
 
 "Let us sit a while and talk." He passed his hand over 
 his forehead, as if he would wipe away a troubled 
 thought, and said: 
 
 "We are friends, I hope, Gansett." 
 
 "Most assuredly." 
 
 A few minutes of silence followed. The colonel 
 looked at Len as though he were trying to read the 
 young man's soul. The situation became embarrassing. 
 "Did you ever read 'Michiavel'?" the colonel asked. 
 
 "No ? sir, I do not like him." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Another silence followed. The colonel arose and 
 thoughtfully walked the floor. He paused, put his hand 
 on the young man's arm and looked into his eyes. 
 
 "Do you know, Gansett, that I doubt man in general." 
 
 "We all do, sometimes."
 
 210 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Very true." 
 
 He resumed his walk, continued it for a few moments, 
 and then, with a sudden change of manner, said: 
 
 "Well, I'll come over some other time and see you; or, 
 perhaps, it would be better for you to come over and see 
 me." 
 
 "All right; but say, colonel, are you in need of money? 
 If so, I can, perhaps, make the last payment on the 
 office before it is due." 
 
 "Best perfectly easy on that point, my dear boy; rest 
 perfectly easy. I told you that you need never pay me, 
 for, indeed, you have greatly benefited the community, 
 and I would not have accepted payment at all had you 
 not forced it upon me." 
 
 "I know that, colonel." 
 
 "Well, then, be assured that I am not needing money. 
 The matter of which I wish to speak does not refer to 
 money. Gansett, I have taken a deep interest in you, 
 and I do not see why you should not become a great 
 man; but," turning toward the door, "I must go. Come 
 over Saturday night and stay all night with me." He 
 stopped when he entered the composing-room. "Hard 
 at work, I see." 
 
 "Yes, rather," replied Collins. "Got a delinquent tax- 
 list on hand and it keeps us moving. Used up nearly 
 all the s*orts in the office." 
 
 "Dry work, I dare say." 
 
 "Dry to the reader," Collins replied, "but pretty moist 
 to the publisher. Miss Hobdy delights in it." 
 
 "No, I don't," Ned replied, getting off a stool and 
 emptying a "stick" of type. "I'd rather set up an obit-
 
 LEN O AN SETT. 211 
 
 nary any time. Section so-and-so, township what not, 
 and range this and that. It's just as stupid as it can be." 
 
 "We'll have to be like a fellow I knew in Texas," Col 
 lins replied. "The boys rode him on a rail till he got 
 so used to it he wouldn't travel any other way. Hired 
 two Mexicans to carry him around on a rail. His wife, 
 with an eye to his comfort, padded the rail, but he 
 couldn't ride it until he tore off the pad. Said that he 
 appreciated her kindness, but that he had to consult 
 his own comfort'. So now, you see, we don't like tax- 
 lists, but after we get used to them we can't do without 
 them." 
 
 "Between the two, a tax-list and a rail, providing 
 it be fixed up with a side saddle and carried by able- 
 bodied men, I would choose the rail," Ned replied. 
 
 "Gansett," said the colonel when he reached the door, 
 "please do not forget our engagement."
 
 212 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 SATURDAY evening. A violent storm was blowing, 
 and the rain streaks, they could scarcely be called 
 drops, woven into great gray sheets, swept over the 
 fields. 
 
 "My gracious alive, Len," exclaimed Mrs. Gansett, 
 "you are not going out in such a storm as this!" 
 
 "Yes; I promised Colonel Bently that I would come 
 over and stay all night with him." 
 
 "Done what?" asked old man Gansett, looking up 
 from an old leather-covered book. 
 
 "Promised Colonel Bently that I would come over to 
 his house this evening and remain all night with him." 
 
 "But you ain't goin' to do it, air you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Sich a time as this!" exclaimed the old man, throw 
 ing down his book and staring at Len. "W'y, he'll 
 think you're outen your senses if you go at sich a time as 
 this. Set down, an' we'll have a snack to eat pretty 
 soon." 
 
 "No, my mind is made up." 
 
 "Well," replied the old man, taking up his book, "if 
 your mind is made up I've got no more to say." 
 
 "Now, Bob," interposed Mrs. Gansett, "that's allus 
 the way. You air allus ready to give in without argy- 
 ment that mout result in good. Len you'd be drownded 
 in the rain, my child; an', besides that, the horse would 
 almost be blinded an' mout run away with you."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 213 
 
 "I am going to walk." 
 
 "Let him alone," said the old man. 
 
 "There you go agin " 
 
 "Let him alone." 
 
 "I do wish 't you'd hush. A body never can say 
 nothin' without you have " 
 
 "Let him alone." 
 
 The old lady flounced intu a rocking-chair. Len passed 
 out into the storm. 
 
 "Why, Gansett/ exclaimed Colonel Bently, as he con 
 ducted the young man into the library, "is it possible 
 that you have come at such a time? Come, you must 
 change your clothes immediately. I'll get you the best 
 in the house." 
 
 "I brought extra clothes in a water-proof bag, which I 
 left in the hall." 
 
 "Well, you are indeed a man of provision. Put on 
 your dry clothes. Go into the room just across the 
 hall." 
 
 "Now, I suppose you are ready for supper," said the 
 colonel, when Len, having put on dry clothing, returned 
 to the library. 
 
 "I am not hungry; still, I am always ready to eat at 
 your table." 
 
 "Thank you. By the way, I have some excellent 
 brandy. Better try some." 
 
 "No, I can get along better without it." 
 
 "I can't agree with you, Gansett; however, we'll not 
 argue the point." 
 
 The colonel seemed to be in the best of spirits, and 
 during supper entertained Len with anecdotes and hum-
 
 214 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 erous bits of his experience. After supper, when they 
 returned to the library, Len waited, not without a feel 
 ing of impatience, in the hope that the colonel would 
 introduce the important business at which he had so 
 vaguely hinted a few days before, but one anecdote con 
 tinued to follow another until the clock struck eleven. 
 Gradually the colonel grew more serious. He drew Len 
 out on many subjects. 
 
 "The philosophy of circumstances shapes every life," 
 said the colonel. 
 
 "But it should not be so," Len rejoined. "Every life 
 should shape circumstances." 
 
 "That, my dear boy, would bring about an endless 
 conflict, in that different lives would try to give different 
 shapes to circumstances. I do not believe that a man 
 can shape his destiny, but thus much I do believe. I 
 believe that we often miss an end simply because we are 
 unable to discover it and because we have no one to 
 point it out. We all have a certain aim, a certain ideal 
 istic end to accomplish. In youth the bright mark is 
 almost within reach, but as we grow older, the mark, less 
 bright, recedes. Those who fancy that they have 
 reached the mark find after a while that it is a delusion. 
 There is no fame but that is followed by disgust; no 
 exhilaration that is not followed by weariness; no laugh 
 ter that does not at last end in a sigh. But there is a 
 great lesson to be learned from all this." 
 
 "That no one should strive to cultivate the tree of 
 ambition?" Len asked. 
 
 "Oh, no; but that no one should become intoxicated 
 with the wine of ambition; that we should endeavor to
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 215 
 
 make ourselves comfortable; in other words, that we 
 should first accumulate money, with which there is no 
 great misfortune, except the death of friends, and 
 without which there is no great success." 
 
 "I am not over-ambitious," Len rejoined. "I hope 
 to be comfortable without having to enter the lists and 
 swing a battle-ax for money. I look forward to a 
 modest home, a happy wife, a mind-feeding library." 
 
 "A commendable aim, surely; but you may strive for 
 years and years before you can sit down in such a home. 
 You may be old and have rheumatism. Your eyes may 
 not be able to lift food to the mind." 
 
 "Yes, but what am I to do? How can I get this home 
 except in the tread-mill way? In fact, I prefer to get 
 it that way. I abhor financial speculation. I do not 
 like trade. I claim no superiority over those who buy 
 and sell, but I confess that such trade is distasteful to 
 me; in fact, I am not equal to the demand of trade." 
 
 "Well, well," said the colonel, after a moment's re 
 flection, "we all have our views. I like to hear you 
 express yourself, and I think that after a while we'll 
 understand each other. My object in thus drawing you 
 out is to impress upon your mind a part of my own 
 philosophy. A philosophy, unless it is imparted to 
 some one, is crippled. What I mean is, that to enjoy a 
 principle we must share it with a friend. I have never, 
 as you have doubtless observed, attempted to conceal 
 the esteem in which I hold you." The young man, who 
 had arisen and who was standing with his hands resting 
 on the back of a chair, bowed in acknowledgment, and 
 the colonel continued: "You are well balanced, Gan-
 
 216 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 sett, and I hope that you will never allow any tide to 
 take you off your feet." 
 
 "I don't think that I ever have, colonel." 
 
 "No, not exactly; but I could not help but notice that 
 you were almost unhealthy elated over the reproduction 
 of your sketches. Now, hold on. I know that you feel 
 a just pride in your work, and, moreover, are grateful 
 to see that large journals copy it, but do not let that 
 pride redound to your disadvantage." 
 
 "What must I do, stop writing sketches and confine 
 myself to mere local mention?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no! You misunderstand me. I simply do 
 not wish you to centre all your aims, all your hopes, in 
 such work. There is something better awaiting you." 
 
 "What is that something?" Len asked. 
 
 The colonel arose, took a turn about the room, ap 
 proached Len, looked into his eyes, and said: 
 
 "There awaits for you, my boy, the means with which 
 to purchase true greatness, contentment. Do not 
 attempt to hurl yourself into literary work now. The 
 lines of art and the lines of bread are rarely found on 
 the same page. You should not be compelled to write 
 for money, but, having money, should write to make 
 your readers better. There are some instances of good 
 'bread' writing, but they are few. Be an artist, not a 
 laborer." 
 
 "Colonel, I am not trying to hurl myself into litera 
 ture. To tell you the truth, I do not look beyond my 
 own little journal." 
 
 "Well, I hope we have both been instructed by our 
 conversation. I told you the other day that I had im-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 217 
 
 portant business with you, but in reality I had not. I 
 merely wanted to talk to you. There are times when I 
 am compelled to express myself, but even then I choose 
 my auditor. Suppose we go to bed."
 
 218 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 ANOTHER summer came and passed, another spring 
 breathed with redolent breath. The Hon. Mangus 
 Dockery, having lost political caste, and having failed 
 as a bookkeeper for a plantation supply-house, began 
 the publication of another paper, the "Eagle of Free 
 dom." He established his office in a weather-boarded 
 shed, with a "dirt floor." A number of people who knew 
 the pinched condition of Dockery's finances were sur 
 prised when the prospectus of his new paper appeared; 
 but they need not have been, for Dockery, when he had 
 not money enough to do anything else, always started 
 a paper. 
 
 "Len," said Dockery, "our interests will not conflict, 
 for Dogwood is now large enough to support two 
 papers." There had been three houses biult in Dog 
 wood since Dockery edited the "Picket." "Yes," con 
 tinued the ex-statesman, "there's room enough " 
 
 "At the top," Len smilingly suggested. 
 
 "Yes, Gansett, at the top, an eminence which we will 
 both occupy in peace and harmony. We can help each 
 other mentally and physically. We must run fearless 
 papers, Gansett. The ginger-cake and cider business 
 won't pay. Then let us speak out. Ah, my dear boy, 
 somebody will find his jacket warmed before long." 
 
 "Are you going to warm old man Mason's jacket?" 
 Len asked. 
 
 "Gansett, that man is beneath my notice. You
 
 LEN GANSETT. 219 
 
 remember once how I restrained myself when he in 
 sulted you." 
 
 "The time he kicked you, eh?" Len suggested. 
 
 ''Let me see, I believe he did say something about 
 kicking me; but, be that as it may, he is beneath my 
 notice. My first number is not as well printed as I 
 could wish, but I've got the circulation. I had my 
 choice, go to Congress or run a newspaper. Then 
 came a struggle. I knew that I could accomplish much 
 by going to Congress, and I carefully considered the 
 subject; but then my love for printer's ink came up 
 within my breast, and well, I had to start a paper." 
 
 One evening, while Ned Hobdy was pursuing her way 
 homeward, Dockery overtook her. 
 
 "Why, good-evening, Miss Hobdy! You seem to be 
 in a hurry." 
 
 "No, I am not in very much of a hurry, that is, no 
 more than usual. My father is always so anxious to see 
 me that I am always anxious to get home." 
 
 "Quite commendable, I assure you; quite commend 
 able. How is the old gentleman's health?" 
 "Not very good." 
 
 "Sorry to hear it. By the way, they tell me that you 
 have become quite a scholar." 
 
 "They have overrated me," she replied. 
 
 "Oh, no; they simply do you justice. Are you fond of 
 the business?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Quite commendable, I assure you. Don't walk <\mte 
 so fast. I have a proposition to make."
 
 220 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 She looked at him quickly, but did not slacken her 
 pace. 
 
 "You have learned about all you can in the Ticket' 
 office," said Dockery. 
 
 "We never learn all we can, no matter where we are 
 located/' she replied. 
 
 "Ah, some truth in that, but it is not the whole truth. 
 Our surroundings have much to do with our ability to 
 learn. If we associate with scholars our minds are more 
 apt to bear scholarly fruit. Does Gansett pay you well?" 
 
 "Better than I deserve." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no; quite impossible; but, be that as it 
 may, there is something else to take into consideration. 
 You are now on the road to accomplishment, and I 
 think that I can finish the work which Gansett has be 
 gun. In short, Miss Hobdy, I offer you a situation in 
 my office." 
 
 Ned almost screamed with laughter. 
 
 "Oh, I'm in earnest, Miss Hobdy." 
 
 "I have no desire to leave the Ticket' office, Mr. 
 Dockery." 
 
 "Not for greater advantages?" 
 
 Again the girl laughed. "What advantages can you 
 offer?" she asked. "You work in mud when the weather 
 is wet, and in dust when it is dry. You hint, and rather 
 broadly, too, at your superior education. There is no 
 more comparison between you and Mr. Gansett than 
 there is between a star and a lightning-bug. He is cul 
 tivated and original; you are superficial and a plagiar 
 ist; and, sir, I don't thank you "
 
 LEN GANSETT. 221 
 
 "Oh, now, here, Miss Hobdy, I fear that Gansett has 
 prejudiced you against me." 
 
 "What cause could he have? I assure you that he 
 does not discuss you, at least in my presence." 
 
 "Ah, a silence begotten of envy," Dockery replied. 
 
 "Envy!" the girl contemptuously repeated. "We 
 never envy those who are below us. Good-evening." 
 
 "Wait one moment. I would not only offer you a 
 place in my office; I listen, please I would give you 
 a home. I won't you wait? Well, you are running 
 away from good fortune. But it is always the way with 
 those who are lifted above their rightful station." 
 
 Ned stopped. She looked furiously at Dockery and 
 exclaimed: 
 
 "You are an unprincipled coward! I will tell Mr. 
 Gansett what you have said." 
 
 "Oh, hold on, Miss Hobdy! Please wait a minute. It 
 was only a joke, I assure you. Now you are gone with 
 out waiting to hear an explanation. Never saw such a 
 neighborhood. Nobody can take a joke." 
 
 His knees smote together. He hurried homeward. 
 He saw Len coming, but he turned into the woods to 
 avoid him. 
 
 That night Len went over to Hobdy's house. The old 
 man, whose mind was full of the "Vicar of Wakefield," 
 was delighted to see him. 
 
 "That ole preacher is the cap'n," said Hobdy. "He 
 tickled me mighty nigh to death when he made them 
 women folks go back inter ther house an' snatch off all 
 that finery. Let's see, what's ther name uv ther man 
 that writ it?"
 
 222 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Goldsmith," Len replied. 
 
 "Yes, Goldsmith; but he hit as hard as a blacksmith. 
 Ned, yer mus' read that book over ter me ernuther 
 time. I ain't quite got ther hang uv all ther p'ints. 
 Mr. Gansett, I've been ernuther man sense Ned got so 
 she ken read like er preacher. I uster look at books and 
 wonder how folks could hump over 'em all day didn't 
 know ther wuz so much fun in 'em." The old fellow 
 laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. Then he 
 swallowed some tobacco, and coughed until he was 
 almost strangled. 
 
 "I had company part of the way home," Ned re 
 marked, turning to Len. 
 
 "Indeed; but that is not strange. Who was the fort 
 unate person?" 
 
 "Our distinguished rival, Dockery." 
 
 "I thought that I saw him in the road some distance 
 ahead of me, as I came home, but upon looking up the 
 second time I saw that he had disappeared." 
 
 "His conscience must have driven him into the 
 woods." 
 
 "How so?" Len quickly asked. 
 
 Ned, after making Len promise not to get into 
 trouble, related the conversation she had held with 
 Dockery. The old man looked up and frowned. Len 
 quietly remarked, "To-morrow I will tell him he must 
 be more careful in the future." 
 
 The next day, shortly after Ned arrived at the office, 
 Len went out. Ned looked inquiringly at him as he 
 passed her. She then went to the door and said: 
 
 "Remember your promise."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 223 
 
 "I will," he replied. 
 
 He went to Dockery's office. The ex-legislator was 
 standing in front of a small looking-glass, tacked against 
 the wall, combing his hair. 
 
 "Why, how are you, my dear boy? Sit down. Say, 
 the last issue of the 'Picket' was as fine a paper as I 
 ever saw. Did Miss Hobdy tell you of the little joke I 
 tried to play on her? Fearful that she might forget it, 
 I thought that I would hurry to your office; but, by 
 George! I forgot it myself." 
 
 "Ah, you had doubtless started to my office when you 
 turned into the woods, yesterday evening, to shorten the 
 distance." 
 
 "I I did I turn into the woods?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Miss Hobdy has told me what you 
 said to her, told me how you cast a slur upon her 
 former condition." 
 
 "It was all a joke." 
 
 "A gentlemanly one, I must say. Put on your coat." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" Dockery falteringly 
 asked. 
 
 "Don't ask another question. Put on your coat and 
 come with me." 
 
 Dockery tremblingly obeyed. Just before they 
 reached the "Picket" office, Dockery said: "Preacher 
 Murray has just gone into your office. He " 
 
 "Silence!" 
 
 When they entered the office, Len, after bowing to 
 the preacher, turned to Dockery and said: 
 
 "Get down on your knees, there, near Miss Hobdy's 
 stool."
 
 224 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 "Oh, dear Gan " 
 
 "Get down!" 
 
 Dockery obeyed. "Misa Hobdy," said Len, "don't 
 look at him." 
 
 Ned turned her face away. 
 
 "Now/' said Len, touching Dockery with the toe of 
 his boot, "apologize. Tell Miss Hobdy that you are a 
 brute, a liar, a plagiarist, and, withal, a coward. Tell 
 her that you haven't manliness enough to appreciate a 
 lady." 
 
 "Mr. Gansett " 
 
 Len kicked him. "Tell her." 
 
 "Miss Hobdy, I am a a liar " 
 
 "And a plagiarist; go on " 
 
 "A plagiarist and " 
 
 "Coward," said Len. 
 
 "Coward," repeated Dockery. 
 
 "Come, hurry up! Tell her that you haven't manli 
 ness enough to appreciate a lady." 
 
 "Haven't manliness enough to appreciate a lady. Now 
 let me say something " 
 
 "Not another word. Get out of this house."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 225 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 ABOUT an hour after Dockery left the "Picket" office 
 Len received from him the following note: 
 
 MR. GANSETT In the language of the ethereal bard, "In 
 peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness 
 and humility." I have often pondered over this grand 
 thought, and I am sure that it has kept me out of many 
 difficulties. It was this thought, my dear Gansett, that en 
 abled me to curb my wrath a few minutes ago. Had it 
 not been for this thought I would have come upon you like 
 an enraged tiger. To you I will now confess that I was 
 wrong in speaking to Miss Hobdy as I did; but, my dear 
 sir, wounded love weighs not its words. I trust that you 
 will pardon me, but I had hoped that Miss Hobdy would 
 one day be mine; but now, sir, I magnanimously relinquish 
 all claims in your favor. I do not stop to ask myself 
 whether or not you would do as much for me, but I make 
 this sacrifice in obedience to the promptings of an unselfish 
 nature. I will endeavor to bear my loss as becomes an 
 American citizen, a man in whom a flourishing community 
 has placed its trust. That I shall pass through dark hall 
 ways, and sit down in gloomy chambers there can be no 
 question, but with the flat-iron of determination I will 
 smooth the wrinkles from my brow. I hope, sir, that you 
 will not consider our affair of enough importance to war 
 rant a place in your columns. Believe me, sir, your obedi 
 ent servant, 
 
 HON. MANQUS DOCKERY. 
 
 "Ned," said Len, "read this. Eead it and reflect upon 
 the sublimity of human sacrifice," 
 
 Ned read the note, threw it down, and without saying 
 a word took up her "stick" and resumed her work.
 
 226 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Well, what do you think?" 
 
 "What can I think?" 
 
 "You can think that the Hon. Mangus Dockery is a 
 noble man or " 
 
 "A fool," the girl suggested. 
 
 "Have you no balm for his wounded soul?" 
 
 "No balm." 
 
 "Shall I answer his note?" 
 
 "Do as you like." 
 
 "In case I answer it," continued the editor, slyly 
 winking at Collins,, "what must I say with regard to 
 you?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Have you no word for him?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Come, be generous." 
 
 "Well, shall I write a note to enclose with yours?" 
 
 "Yes," Len replied, again winking at Collins. 
 
 "All right," said the girl, getting off her stool and 
 seating herself at a desk. After a short season of writ 
 ing she said: 
 
 "You may send him this." 
 
 The girl looked mischievously at Collins and smiled. 
 Len took the sheet of paper and read as follows: 
 
 "MY DEAR MR. DOCKERY Your declaration of love is in 
 deed a revelation to me. I have always admired you, yes, 
 have more than admired you, and I hope that at an early 
 day you will come and see me." 
 
 "The deuce!" Len exclaimed. "You are not going to 
 send this." 
 
 Collins roared. "She got you that time, cap'n," said
 
 LEN GA.NSETT. 227 
 
 he. "Well, we've had enough foolishness. If we want to 
 get this paper up we've got to pull out." 
 
 That evening, as Len and Ned were walking along the 
 road, swinging a basket between them, the young man 
 said: 
 
 "Ned, have I not kept my promise, the promise that 
 I would not talk of love?" 
 
 "Yes; but you are about to break it now/' 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 "Your sly introduction of the subject." 
 
 "Well, suppose I break it?" 
 
 "You will weaken my confidence in you." 
 
 "I don't want to do that, I am sure." 
 
 "Then don't talk of love." 
 
 "Why? Is the subject distasteful to you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then why do you object to my speaking of it?" 
 
 "Oh, I told you why. You know that I love you 
 worship you. Now let it rest. Give me my basket, I 
 must turn off here." 
 
 "Just wait a moment. Ned, you have never cared 
 anything for Dockery, have you?" 
 
 "How foolish you are!" 
 
 "But tell me. Understand that ardent love is jealous 
 of a shadow." 
 
 "You know that I don't like that vain, shallow man. 
 Go on home, Len; you are unnatural this evening." 
 
 "Well, sweet girl, good-evening." 
 
 When Len reached home he found Colonel Bently 
 and Bob Gansett sitting in the yard. The evening was 
 delightful. Bull-bats winged their whirling flight, and
 
 228 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 the whippoorwills, emerging from their daytime seclu 
 sion, had begun to sound the notes of their monotonous 
 song. The chatter-jack sang in the oak-tree, and the 
 droning black bug, with clumsy bump, struck the 
 clothes-line. A soft, mellow light and a growing shadow 
 waltzed over the fields, and down the lane the bell-cow 
 came, while the capering calf pressed his head against 
 the bars to catch the appetizing fragrance of his moth 
 er's breath. 
 
 "My dear boy," said the colonel, arising and extending 
 his hand, "I am delighted to see you. Have this seat." 
 "Oh, no," said Len; "keep your seat. I'll get another 
 chair." 
 
 "Yes," remarked old Bob, "for it would be a putty 
 come-off for you to come all the way over here to give 
 up your cheer to a youngster." 
 
 "Ah," laughed the colonel; "and such a youngster, 
 too!" 
 
 Len brought a chair from the hallway and sat down. 
 The colonel turned to him and said: 
 
 "Len, your paper improves with each succeeding 
 issue." 
 
 "A compliment, surely, colonel. To hear you say it 
 does me more good than to know that such is the case, 
 since I know that your compliment comes from the kind 
 feeling which you bear me." 
 
 "Ah, my dear boy, you can indeed take a truth and 
 make it a compliment to him who utters it." 
 
 "To utter truth, colonel, is compliment enough of 
 itself."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 229 
 
 "Yes," said old man Gansett, "as truth has become 
 so sca'ce." 
 
 "I don't know, grandpa, but that the supply is equal 
 to the demand." 
 
 "Journalism induces pleasant satire," said the colonel. 
 
 "Or rather an utterance of the actual," Len replied. 
 
 "It seems that all our arrows are barbed this evening," 
 said the colonel. "I have always known that Len was 
 incisive, but I have never before known him to make 
 such free use of his blade." 
 
 "My blade is dull, colonel,, except when your presence 
 sharpens it." 
 
 "Ah," said the colonel, "we are resolved into a mutual 
 admiration society." 
 
 Mrs. Gansett appeared in the doorway. "Before you 
 can sharpen any blade," she said, "you'll have to calk up 
 the trough of the grindstone. The sun has dried up the 
 water and cracked it." 
 
 "I reckon we'll get along all right," said the old man, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Now, what's the matter with you, Bob?" the old 
 lady demanded. "A body can't say a word without you 
 have to snicker. You act like you was possessed. Make 
 me think you have gone daft. Well, come on, now, 
 supper is ready. We haven't got anything very enticin', 
 but you're welcome to what we've got. Come, colonel !" 
 
 "Madam," replied the colonel, arising and bowing with 
 a mien which diplomatists might envy, "I ate dinner 
 just before leaving home, and am not hungry, yet your 
 invitation almost gives me an appetite." 
 
 "Much obleeged," the old ldy replied, with a slight
 
 230 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 inclination of her venerable head. "Len you an' gran'- 
 pa fetch yo' cheers." 
 
 After supper the colonel approached Len, drew him to 
 one side, and said: 
 
 "My dear boy, if you have nothing of importance on 
 hand to-night I wish you would go over and stay all 
 night with me." 
 
 "Colonel, I am afriad that I cannot go to-night." 
 
 "Why? Anything important?" 
 
 "Well, it might not be important in the estimation of 
 any one else." 
 
 "Come, tell me what it is." 
 
 "Well, for some time I have been working on a story 
 in which I have become so much interested that I am 
 now anxious to finish it." 
 
 "A high flown composition, I dare say." 
 
 "No, sir; on the contrary, it is humble in conception 
 and lowly in treatment." 
 
 "The scene, then, I suppose, is laid in a charity hos 
 pital," the colonel smilingly remarked. 
 
 "No; it is laid in this neighborhood." 
 
 "Ah, that is a stroke of genius." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Because the man of genius always writes near home. 
 The foolish and aimless romances seeks a country of 
 which his probable readers are not familiar. Then he 
 can exercise a fancy acquired from unhealthful books 
 instead of throwing aside the unlikely, and writing of the 
 true. But, say, the story won't suffer if you go and stay 
 with me to-night."
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 231 
 
 "That may be, but I am afraid that you would if I 
 
 go." 
 
 "I'll risk that. I must tell you something. You 
 know that I am not inclined to be suspicious." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, but I have begun to suspect some one of an 
 intention to rob me." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I don't know exactly why, but I believe 
 that Honeycut has designs upon my house." 
 
 "I don't know," Len replied, "but that he has designs 
 upon every house where he thinks a strict watch is not 
 kept." 
 
 "I hope that you will say nothing about my suspicions, 
 for they may prove to be ill-founded." 
 
 "How long have you suspected Honeycut?" 
 
 "I have never placed much confidence in him, but I 
 did not actually suspect him until recently." 
 
 "Why did you have anything to do with him in the 
 first place?" Len asked. 
 
 "He came to my house one morning and asked if I had 
 any work he -might do. He declared that he was in great 
 need of a few dollars, and that he would perform any 
 kind of work. I did not like his looks, but I took pity 
 on him. He did his work well. His ignorance of social 
 customs led me to believe that his growing familiarity 
 was not intentional, otherwise I would have forbidden 
 his coming to my house again." 
 
 "Why do you suspect him of an intention to rob you?" 
 
 "Well, he came over to my house this morning, and 
 with that freedom which every one exercises on my
 
 232 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 premises he wandered about unatteneded. I was sit 
 ting in the library, reading, when I remembered that I 
 had left my favorite pipe in another room. I went to 
 get it. My slippered feet made no noise. Upon shoving 
 open the door, which was ajar, I saw Honeycut attempt 
 ing to unscrew the fastenings of the window-shutters. 
 I addressed him, and, much confused, he stammered 
 out an incoherent reply. He concealed his screw-driver 
 under his coat, and, after making a few commonplace 
 remarks, withdrew, apparently satisfied that I had not 
 discovered his design. I am not afraid, Len, but Fd 
 like to have you stay with me to-night/' 
 
 "If it be an actual accommodation I'll go with you." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear boy." 
 
 When they reached Bently's house the colonel con 
 ducted Len to a room, pointed to the window, and 
 said : 
 
 "There is his work." 
 
 "Yes, the catches are removed." 
 
 "Now, my dear Len, if nothing comes of this, promise 
 me that you will not mention the affair." 
 
 "Of course, colonel." 
 
 "You promise, then?" 
 
 "Yes, but I don't see why you should desire to shield 
 a bad man." 
 
 "It is not my desire to shield him, Len." 
 
 "Then why not have him arrested?" 
 
 "That would be useless. I have not sufficient evidence 
 to convict him; besides, I can only suspect him of a 
 design, and not of his having committed a crime. If
 
 LEN GANSETT. 233 
 
 you should speak of it now, he would be put upon his 
 guard. I want to catch him, don't you see?" 
 
 "You are right, colonel." 
 
 The colonel and Len talked until a late hour. When 
 the young man went to the room which had been 
 assigned to him, he extinguished the light, opened the 
 window, and sat down. The night was beautiful. The 
 sheep, lying on the green pasture, looked like white 
 pillows scattered over a dark bed. 
 
 "There is no use in my remaining in this room," 
 the young man mused. "I can't sleep. Believe I'll go 
 down and sit under the trees. No, I'd better not dis 
 turb every one by walking through the house. Let me 
 see, I can get out on the roof of the gallery and slide 
 down a post." 
 
 A few moments later Len was on the ground. "Now, 
 how am I going to get back?" he asked himself. "Well, 
 I'll have to arouse the colonel, after all." 
 
 He walked a short distance from the house and sat 
 down under a tree. An ill-boding tree-toad dismally 
 croaked above him. A night-hawk cried. A negro on 
 a distant plantation blew his melancholy quills. Some 
 one climbed over the fence. Len's heart beat faster. 
 The figure slowly and cautiously approached the tree 
 under which the young man was sitting. Len rec 
 ognized Honeycut. Honeycut perceived Len and stop 
 ped. 
 
 "That you. co'n'l?" 
 
 "No," Len replied. 
 
 "Oh, it's Gansett."
 
 234 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 "Yes, it is Gansett. What are you doing here this 
 time of night?" 
 
 "What're you doin' here?" 
 
 "I don't know that it concerns you." 
 
 "Wall, I don't know that my bein' here consarns you, 
 nuther." 
 
 "I am inclined to think differently. I am Colonel 
 Bently's guest, and " 
 
 "That's all right," said Honeycut, sitting down on the 
 grass. "Putty night, ain't it?" 
 
 "Most too light for your business, I should think." 
 
 "Mebbe so, but it'll be darker when the moon goes 
 down." 
 
 "What you lack in courage you make up in insolence." 
 
 "That's it, I reckon. Ef yer lose on yer co'n yer've 
 got ter make up on yer hogs." 
 
 "Yes, but I know of one hog on which but little can 
 be made up." 
 
 A window was thrown up. A voice demanded: "Who 
 is that down there?" 
 
 "Me an' Gansett," Honeycut replied. 
 
 The colonel came down, and, addressing Honeycut, 
 asked: 
 
 "WTiat are you doing here this time of night?" 
 
 "I was passin' an' wanted a drink uv water, an' come 
 in to go to ther well." 
 
 "Get your water, then, and go on." 
 
 "Yes, sah," said Honeycut, arising. "I am much 
 obleeged ter yer, Good-night, gentlemen,"
 
 LM GANSETT. 235 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE young men of Dogwood were much excited over 
 the arrival of a young woman, Miss Pauline Chackerin, 
 a graduate of a well-known college. She came to teach 
 school, not hecause she needed the money, for her 
 parents, of course, were well off, but because she 
 wanted to be of use in the world. Miss Pauline spoke 
 with a cultivated lisp. She dressed becomingly, and well 
 understood the art of arranging her hair so that her 
 high, narrow forehead might find some relief. The 
 young men who, with high-heeled boots and ruffled 
 shirt-bosoms, visited her, declared her a person of won 
 derful intelligence; and although the young lady could 
 not help feeling contempt for her surroundings, 
 always seeming to have trouble with her skirts lest they 
 should touch something yet she talked freely with the 
 humble villagers, generously showing that she was not 
 averse to assisting in an amelioration of their condition. 
 Miss Pauline soon became acquainted with Len Gan- 
 sett; indeed she went to the "Picket" office and intro 
 duced herself to him. She had done much literary work, 
 had been brought up with a pen in her hand, and could 
 occasionally write short stories for the "Picket." 
 
 She had written for the "Waverly Magazine," and 
 although the editor did not pay her, yet he gave her 
 great encouragement. She would rather write for home 
 publications, for she wanted to see the immediate im 
 press of her mind upon friends with whom she was daily
 
 236 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 associated. She intended to make a special feature of 
 composition, and to aid her classes she would read to 
 them her own writings. 
 
 Len published the first story which she submitted. 
 It was a pedantic composition, but was not wholly with 
 out merit. Her visits to the office became frequent. She 
 paid but little attention to Ned, and in speaking to her 
 assumed a superiority which Ned, when the authoress 
 was gone, would mimic, to the great delight of old 
 Collins. 
 
 One day when Len and Collins were out Miss Pauline 
 called with another story. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Gansett?" she asked, seating herself 
 and throwing her parasol upon a table. "Oh, dear," she 
 continued, without giving Ned time to reply, "how this 
 insalubriously warm weather does affect me! Did you 
 say that Mr. Gansett is out?" 
 
 "I did not say anything," Ned replied; "but he is out." 
 
 "Can you approximate the time of his return, Miss 
 What is your name, again?" 
 
 "I have always had the same name, and consequently 
 have not been named again. Ned Hobdy is my name." 
 
 "Ned, did you say?" 
 
 "Yes," Ned replied, reaching after a capital letter. 
 
 "I don't think it is a pretty name." 
 
 "Neither do I." 
 
 "Did you tell me when Mr. Gansett would be likely 
 to return?" 
 
 "No, for I have no idea." 
 
 "How long have you known Mr. Gansett? Since you 
 were a school-girl, I suppose?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 237 
 
 "I am nothing but a school-girl now. This is my 
 school." 
 
 Miss Pauline frowned slightly, and replied, "Not a 
 very complete school, I imagine." 
 
 "No, it is not perfect in all its branches, yet it makes 
 a special feature of composition. I learn a great deal 
 from the original stories which I set up." 
 
 Miss Pauline cast a quick glance at the type-setter, 
 but, detecting on the girl's face no expression of sarcasm, 
 remarked, "Yes; but it is like eating the fruit which 
 some one else has grown." 
 
 "But it is not necessary to plant the tree in order to 
 enjoy the fruit." 
 
 "Miss Hobdy," said the authoress, "it is a pity that 
 you had not been sent to school and regularly educated. 
 You might have become really bright." 
 
 "Thank you; but, as I was not regularly educated, I 
 must now make the best of the irregular means which 
 are within my reach." 
 
 "Yes, I opine so. I do wish Mr. Gansett would come. 
 I have another story for him," taking up a small roll 
 of manuscript which she had been affectionately hold 
 ing on her lap. "Perhaps you would like to read it." 
 
 "JSTo, I'll wait until it is put on the hook." 
 
 "Oh, no; I want you to read it now. I want to point 
 out the fine points to you." 
 
 Ned got off her stool, took the manuscript, spread it 
 upon the table, and, drawing up a chair, sat down. Be 
 fore beginning to read she said: 
 
 "Excuse me, but you should not roll manuscript.
 
 238 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 See, if I were not to roll it first one way and then 
 another I could not keep it on my case." 
 
 "That is a question for type-setters to discuss, and not 
 of concern to editors," the teacher replied. 
 
 "Upon the contrary," rejoined Ned, "it is quite 
 annoying to editors." 
 
 "Well, never mind, read the story." 
 
 Ned arranged the manuscript and hegan reading. 
 Miss Pauline, with an air of superiority, settled herself 
 back, and, with a self-satisfied smile, closely watched 
 the countenance of the reader. 
 
 "Look here a moment, said Ned. 
 
 "Well/-' replied Miss Pauline, leaning forward. "Have 
 you found anything wrong?" 
 
 "Yes. Listen to this: 'Douglas was very hungry, 
 but he had nothing to eat in his basket.' '' 
 
 "Well, what's wrong with it?" 
 
 "He certainly did not intend to eat anything in his 
 basket. You mean that Douglas had nothing in his 
 basket to eat." 
 
 "You are foolish!" exclaimed Miss Pauline. "One 
 expression is just as good as the other." 
 
 "Yes," Ned replied, "I think that one is even better 
 than the other. Here's something else. You say that 
 Douglas had no money to spend in his pocket, when you 
 doubtless mean that he had no money in his pocket to 
 spend. You will observe that the most direct statements 
 are the best." 
 
 "Who are you, to give such advice!" exclaimed Miss 
 Pauline. 
 
 "And, again," continued Ned, paying no attention to
 
 LEN GANSETT. 239 
 
 the fury of the authoress, "you do not understand punct 
 uation. If you had put a semi-colon there, and a 
 comma here, you would not have begun three successive 
 short sentences with a conjunction, which, you must 
 admit, does not sound well, as each sentence is declara 
 tive and leaves nothing for the following sentence to 
 take up, thereby dispensing with the connecting link of 
 'and.' I do not profess to be a grammarian, but I am 
 something of a student, and " 
 
 "Student!" Miss Pauline contemptuously repeated. 
 "You don't know what a student is. Give me that story. 
 I would leave it here, but I am afriad that Mr. Gansett 
 would never see it. I know that he will print it, regard 
 less of your criticism. You a student!" continued Miss 
 Pauline, punching the table with the end of her parasol; 
 "why, you don't know anything have never seen any 
 thing. You presume to critize me! I will tell Mr. Gan 
 sett to teach you better manners. I was graduated at 
 Wilson's seminary, I will have you understand, a place 
 where " 
 
 "Politeness is ommitted," Ned suggested. 
 
 "No, miss; a place where politeness is taught." 
 
 "You probably failed to take the entire course." 
 
 "Oh, I could choke you!" 
 
 "No, I don't think you could. I was graduated in the 
 woods, and my arms are very strong. Have you ever 
 chopped any wood, Miss Chackerin? Excellent exer 
 cise!" 
 
 "You are a most despisable wretch, and I'll have Mr. 
 Gansett discharge you, that's what I'll do. Oh, you 
 hateful thing!"
 
 240 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "Don't be excited. Sit down and correct your story." 
 
 "I'd like to correct you, you hateful wretch!" 
 
 "Look here, your abuse has gone about far enough. 
 You came in here expecting to astonish me with your 
 silly stuff, and when, after you defied my criticism, I 
 criticised your story, you flew into a passion. You 
 attempted to pose here as a superior being", and it seems 
 that your strongest effort has been made to completely 
 overawe and crush me. I have never sought to harm 
 you, have never spoken of you but with respect, while 
 you have taken every possible occasion to speak lightly 
 of me. I think that I know the reason, but you need 
 not put yourself to extraordinary trouble. Mr. Gansett 
 and I are old friends." 
 
 "What do you mean?" Miss Pauline almost screamed. 
 
 "Oh, if you do not understand, reflect, and doubtless 
 your own mind will suggest a solution." 
 
 Miss Pauline gathered up her skirts and rushed from 
 the house. A few minutes afterward, Ned, looking 
 through the window, saw Len and the school-teacher 
 Avalking slowly down the road. Collins entered the 
 office. 
 
 "Well, pulling away, are you, Miss Hobdy? Why, 
 what makes you so nervous?" 
 
 "Yes, I am pulling away; but I don't know that I 
 am nervous." 
 
 "Saw the teacher just now," said Collins, as he took 
 up his composing-stick, "and I was afraid that she had 
 come around to leave us some more slush. Did she?" 
 
 "She brought a story, but took it away with her 
 again."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 241 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Because I criticised it, and she got mad and took it 
 away." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Collins, tapping the bar of his 
 "case" with an "em quad." 
 
 "She considered it very impudent of me, declaring 
 that she was a graduate, and that I had never seen any 
 thing." 
 
 "What did you tell her?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know what all, but I think that she left 
 with a pretty good idea of my opinion of her. Oh, if I 
 had met her two years ago, when I could scarcely read, 
 and she had spoken to me as she did to-day, I would 
 have rumpled her hair! Two years ago less than two 
 years ago just think of it!" 
 
 "A great change," said Collins. "I have worked in 
 printing-offices nearly all my life, but I never saw any 
 one learn so rapidly as you have." 
 
 "A wild vine, when it is taken from the woods and 
 planted in the yard, where it is watered and cultivated, 
 grows very fast; faster than if it had first come up in the 
 yard." 
 
 Collins looked at the girl, slowly shook his head, and 
 muttered, "You git away with me, blamed if you don't!" 
 
 "What did you say?" Ned asked. 
 
 "Nothing. Was trying to think of a quotation I once 
 heard. Here's the boss. Come in, me noble duck!" 
 
 Len sat down and remained some time without say 
 ing anything. Ned glanced at him as if she would read 
 his thoughts. 
 
 "Miss Pauline tells me that she has another one of
 
 242 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 her excellent stories for us/' said the editor. "Her home 
 paper copied the first one." 
 
 "Her father took it around and had it put in, doubt 
 less/' Ned replied. 
 
 "Oh, I think not," Len rejoined. "It possessed quite 
 sufficient merit to warrant its reproduction. She has 
 promised to give us a picture of herself to hang in the 
 office. Well, it is about time to stop work. I haven't 
 felt disposed to do anything to-day. Ned, suppose we 
 
 go." 
 
 "I am not ready to go yet/' 
 
 "Well, I must proceed/' 
 
 Ned followed him with her eyes, and when he was 
 out of sight she took down her basket and started home 
 ward. When she reached home she dropped the basket 
 on the HOOT and threw herself upon a bed. 
 
 "Ned, air yer sick?" her father asked. 
 
 "No, sir/' 
 
 "What's the matter with yer?" 
 
 "Tired; that's all." 
 
 The old man lighted a lamp and placed it on a table 
 near the bed. As he did so, he caught sight of her face, 
 which she attempted to conceal with her arms. 
 
 "W'y, gal, yer ain't cryin'? Tell yer old dad; has any 
 thing gone wrong?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Wall, I never seed yer carry on this er way befo'. 
 Ain't yer goin' ter eat- no supper? I shot er lot er 
 blackbirds down in ther fiel' an' have stewed 'em finer'n 
 silk." 
 
 "I don't want any."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 243 
 
 The old man mutteringly turned away. "Ned," he 
 exclaimed, "here's Mr. Gansett! W'y, come in! Thar 
 'peers ter be suthin' ther matter with Ned this evenin', 
 Mr. Gansett." 
 
 "No, there isn't," Ned replied, quickly arising. 
 "Good- evening, Len." 
 
 "How are you, little girl? Thought I'd come over and 
 spend the evening with you. Am I welcome?" 
 
 "You know you are," she replied, putting hack her 
 beautiful hair. 
 
 "It is very warm in here, Ned; suppose we go out and 
 sit on a log." 
 
 They went to the log on which Len had so often seen 
 the girl sit, listlessly gazing at that nothing from which 
 we draw our most tranquil thoughts. 
 
 "Len, I told you that I would let you know when to 
 talk of love." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well," nestling closer to him, "you may may 
 talk of it now." 
 
 Without replying he put his arms around her beauti 
 ful shoulders and pressed her head against him. Her 
 glorious hair broke loose from its fastenings and veiled 
 his bosom. 
 
 "Little angel," he said, "don't you know that I wor 
 ship you?" 
 
 "I know," she breathed, "that I hope so. I know that 
 I have prayed for your love. Len, you don't know 
 how my heart has ached this day! I was jealous; I know 
 it, and acknowledge it. That woman oh, I cannot help 
 but dislike her "
 
 244 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Don't mention her, darling. She told me what you 
 said to her, and I told her that I did not want any more 
 of her stories." 
 
 "But, Len, why did you appear so indifferent to me 
 when you came into the office?" 
 
 "Because I wanted to sit where we are now sitting; 
 because, angel, I wanted you to tell me that I might talk 
 of love." 
 
 "You wanted to make me jealous?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But," she said, as she put her arms around his neck 
 and kissed him, "you must not do so any more. My 
 heart is very tender, Len. It is very warm, dear, and a 
 draft of cold air chills it." 
 
 "Well, darling, you shall not be exposed to the draft 
 again." 
 
 "Ho, Gansett!" old man Hobdy called, "I've got the 
 best blackbird stew yer ever seed. Ef yer an' Ned air 
 through with yer 'portant bus'ness yer'd better come an' 
 git some. Wy," he added, as he advanced and looked 
 at Ned, "I never seed a gal improve so. Jes' now she 
 wuz ailin'." 
 
 "My soul was ailing," the girl replied, "but the soul's 
 physician has come." 
 
 "Then good-by ter the blackbirds," replied the old 
 man. "No foolishness now. Come on!"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 245 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 "LEN," said Ned, as she and the editor were walking 
 toward the office the morning after the reconciliation, 
 "you must promise me something." 
 
 "What another promise?" 
 
 "Yes." . 
 
 "Will it be hard to keep?" 
 
 "Not so hard as the first one." 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "You must promise me that after we are married I 
 may continue to work in the office." 
 
 "That won't look very well, little girl." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It might create the impression that I demanded your 
 services; in fact,," he miscievously added, "people might 
 think that I owe you, and married you to discharge the 
 debt." 
 
 "Nonsense! you know they won't. When they notice 
 how much better clothes I and my father wear, and how 
 much better everything looks around our house, they 
 must know that my wages are paid regularly. You 
 haven't promised me," she added, taking his hand. 
 
 "You may go to the office with me, but you need not 
 work. You may help me edit the paper." 
 
 "May I?" she joyously exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You are joking." 
 
 "No, I am in earnest."
 
 246 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "And you will let me write stories?" 
 
 "Yes, you may write as your inclinations suggest." 
 
 "That will be just splendid!" she happily exclaimed, 
 seizing his arm in an embrace. "I believe I can write a 
 story about the humble people I know. I can imagine 
 all sorts of situations, and I know that I can write them 
 down as I see them/' 
 
 As they neared the office, Ned, looking up, said, 
 "Yonder comes Mr. Dockery. Does he speak to you 
 when he meets you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; the little apology does not seem to have 
 interfered with our social relations." 
 
 "Mr. Gansett," said the editor of the "Eagle of Free 
 dom," "I desire to communicate with you a few 
 moments, if Miss Hobdy has no objections." 
 
 "I have no objections," Ned replied. 
 
 Len stopped. Ned walked on toward the office. 
 
 "Let us sit down here," said Dockery, pointing to a 
 grass-covered bank. They sat down, and Dockery, bit 
 ting off a chew of tobacco from a thick plug covered with 
 tin spangles, said: 
 
 "Len, -we have always advised with each other, and I 
 do not feel disposed to take an important step without 
 consulting you. I have made it a rule to act cautiously 
 in serious matters, to which course I can attribute much 
 of my success. When I was a boy I decided that many of 
 our evils and mishaps come from rashness. Now, sir," 
 placing one hand on Len's knee, "what I am going to 
 say to you must go no further. I am, I gladly say, 
 aware that with you a secret is sacred. I am in love. 
 Hold on, now! I am not in love with Miss Hobdy. She
 
 LEN GANSETT. 247 
 
 is an excellent lady, possessing many noble qualities, 
 but I'm not in love with her." 
 
 "Who is the fortunate woman?" Len asked. 
 
 "The accomplished Miss Chackerin. My dear Gansett, 
 my position has thrown me in contact with many estim 
 able ladies; but, sir, I have never seen one who so 
 strongly appeals to me as Miss Chackerin. I have met 
 her several times, and each time I have become more 
 attached to her. She is a writer of marked ability, I'll 
 publish one of her stories next week, and I believe that 
 she can soon learn to set type. Now, what do you 
 advise?" 
 
 "Why, if you love her and she loves you, marry her." 
 
 "Sensible advice, Gansett; the very cream of judg 
 ment. Love her, my dear boy; I adore her! I admit 
 that she is not beautiful, but beauty is a delusion. In 
 selecting a life partner we must look more to character 
 and disposition than to beauty." 
 
 "Have you spoken to her on the subject?" 
 
 "Only in a vague way. I complimented her work, and 
 hinted that my life had become much brighter since 
 she had come to Dogwood. She smiled; by George! sir, 
 I wish you could have seen that smile. Never saw such 
 a smile in my life. I can never forget it. I cannot en 
 dure the suspense much longer, and I shall take an early 
 opportunity of telling her of my love and imploring her, 
 from her throne of peerless worth, to decide my fate. 
 Please do not mention what I have told you, Gansett, 
 for you are the only man who possesses my confidence." 
 
 When Len entered the office Collins said, "Had a con 
 versation with the Hon. Mangus, eh?"
 
 248 LEN 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He gave me about an hour and a half of his valuable 
 time this morning; took me into his confidence, called 
 me his dear friend, and wanted me to advise him." 
 
 "What did you tell him?" Len asked. 
 
 "Told him to marry her. He said that he could not 
 stand the suspense much longer, and said something 
 about her throne of peerless worth. By George, here 
 she comes!" Collins exclaimed. Miss Pauline Chackerin 
 entered. Ned turned and gave her an inquiring glance. 
 After bowing to Len and Collins, the school-teacher ad 
 dressed Ned. "Miss Hobdy," said she, "I have come to 
 apologize to you for my ruder ess. I have ever been 
 restive under criticism, and I know that I should have 
 more sense, but won't you please forgive me?" 
 
 "We were both to blame," Ned replied, extending her 
 hand, and then, noticing the type-dust upon her fingers, 
 withdrawing it. 
 
 "Never mind the smut," said Miss Pauline. "The 
 soil which honest labor leaves upon our hands is an 
 honorable mark. I have no desire, Miss Hobdy, to 
 antogonize you; on the contrary, I think that we should 
 be on the best of terms. What are you writing now, 
 Mr. Gansett? Some rascally joke, I warrant you. 
 Heigho, I am getting tired of this country! The 
 weather is so warm, and I freckle so easily, too. Oh, no," 
 she added, when she had been three times invited to sit 
 down, "I haven't time to stay more than a minute. 
 Thought that I would come and ask Miss Hobdy's par 
 don. Mercy, how I do run on! You must be quite a 
 hand at the business," addressing Collins.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 249 
 
 "Yes'um." 
 
 "Did you ever set up the types for books?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I set up two-thirds of the Sunday-school 
 books you see throughout the country." 
 
 "Indeed! Now tell me, who writes the most of such 
 books?" 
 
 "Many of them are written by the rattiest old bums 
 I mean drunkards who wants to raise a stake. I 
 know a fellow who writes dime novels half the week, and 
 Sunday-school books the other half." 
 
 "You don't tell me." 
 
 "Yes, I think I do. Did you ever see a book, with 
 imitation of variegated marble covering, entitled, 'Why 
 Sweet Willie laid down His Life'?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Well, that was written by a lunch rounder, named 
 Jones." 
 
 "Yes, lunch rounder while in town, and a handout 
 advocate while in the country." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, but I must say that I 
 do not believe you. Well, I must go. I gave the chil 
 dren a long recess in order to come up here; but, good 
 ness," looking at her watch, "it is time to take in. 
 Good-by." 
 
 Old Collins groaned when the school-teacher had gone. 
 "A small dose of that fading damsel goes a long ways," 
 said he. 
 
 "You should not speak so of the young lady," Len 
 replied. 
 
 "Probably not, but it's true all the same. She makes 
 me very tired."
 
 250 LEX GAN8ETT. 
 
 "I must admit that she is not very refreshing. Her 
 father owned too many negroes before the war," said 
 Len. 
 
 "Yes, and especially as she has an Indiana accent," 
 Collins suggested. 
 
 "You are right," said Len. "The daughter of an ex- 
 slave owner may say 'I reckon/ and in a moment of for- 
 getfulness may say 'dun gone/ and even 'gwine;' but 
 she does not say 'noospaper/ and 'crick' for creek." 
 
 Collins shook his "case" with a loud rattle, and 
 groaned; and then, with the printer's characteristic cus 
 tom when speaking of the proprietor of a paper, looked 
 at Ned, and remarked: 
 
 "The old man sizes her up about right." 
 
 Shortly after Miss Pauline left the "Picket" office 
 she was overtaken by Mr. Dockery. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Pauline, you are looking fresh this morn 
 ing. Let me accompany you as far as the school-house." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "Not at all. By the way, I am much pleased with 
 your story." 
 
 "Then you accept it?" 
 
 "By all means. You may not like the way I shall 
 bring it out, for it will appear in three different sizes of 
 type." 
 
 "Haven't you enough type of one size?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; but but different sizes give diversity to the 
 appearance of a story. I had a story in 'Harper's Maga 
 zine/ some time ago, and by special request the editor 
 who is a friend of mine had it set in three sizes of type. 
 He rather liked the idea."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 251 
 
 "Of course I do not know much of such matters," 
 Miss Pauline said. "I can only judge of literary, and not 
 of mechanical, excellence/' 
 
 "I should think, Miss Pauline, that you would devote 
 your life to literature." 
 
 "Nothing would make me so happy." 
 
 "Ah, I knew it. I told Gansett the other day that I 
 wished that I was able to give you regular employment 
 on my paper." Dockery glanced at the young lady's 
 watch-chain. "I told him that if we were associated to 
 gether that not only the State of Arkansas, but the 
 entire country would soon hear of the 'Eagle of Free 
 dom.' Don't walk so rapidly, Miss Pauline." 
 
 "I haven't the time to discuss the matter now, Mr. 
 Dockery." 
 
 "Oh, it won't take us long." 
 
 "Why not call on me this evening?" 
 
 "Yes, I will. Oh, I think that we can come to some 
 terms." 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 "Well, good-by for the present." 
 
 That evening Dockery called on Miss Pauline. The 
 weather was extremely warm, and at Dockery's sugges 
 tion they sat on the gallery. Braley passed, carrying a 
 "middlin' uv meat." Sheet lightning flashed in the 
 western sky. A brindle cow with deformed hip-bones 
 stood in a patch of dog fennel, lowing mournfully. It 
 was a propitious time for love-making, and Dockery, 
 upon whom no feature of sentimental environment was 
 lost, turned from a contemplation of the cow and re 
 marked:
 
 252 LEN OANSETT. 
 
 "All nature seems to sing a song of love." 
 
 "Don't yon think that it would be better for the 
 nature which we find in this community to sing a song 
 of sixpence?" 
 
 "Yes/' Dockery laughingly replied, "a song of six 
 pence, bottle full of rye; especially the rye, as this is a 
 prohibition town." 
 
 "You are so witty, Mr. Dockery." 
 
 Dockery nodded his head in recognition of the com 
 pliment, and replied: "Without wit, a man can do but 
 little in the newspaper business; and," he added, "I 
 found that wit was an appreciative quality in the legis 
 lature. After many opponents came to know me, 
 neither of them, fearing a stinging repartee, would dare 
 to lift his voice against me." 
 
 "You like politics, then?" 
 
 "I cannot say that I like the low-born workings of 
 politics, but I confess that I like public life. I am at 
 my best when under fire. I am naturally a man of 
 courage." 
 
 "Such is my estimate of you, Mr. Dockery." 
 
 Again the editor nodded. Miss Pauline continued: 
 "There is nothing I admire so much as courage." 
 
 "Except literature," Dockery suggested. 
 
 "Yes, I must except literature. Literature is my 
 heart, my life's blood. My father is a literary man. Be 
 fore the war, when he had nothing to do but to manage 
 his estates, he wrote a great deal for publication." 
 
 "How is the old gentlman's health?" 
 
 "Very fair, considering his age." 
 
 "Has he sold much of his land?"
 
 LEN OANSETT. 253 
 
 "Not a great deal." 
 
 "Nearly all his children living at home, I suppose?" 
 
 "I am the only child living." 
 
 "How long do you expect to remain here?" 
 
 "Oh, so long as it suits my fancy, or whim, as father 
 would say." 
 
 "Do the trustees of the school pay you promptly?" 
 
 "I have never asked them for money. Yes, quite 
 promptly." 
 
 "You remember that this morning I spoke to you 
 with regard to my paper?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, it is growing every day." 
 
 "I am, indeed, glad to hear it." 
 
 "Miss Pauline, shall I be candid with you?" 
 
 "By all means, Mr. Dockery." 
 
 "Well have you some water handy?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 She brought a dipper of .water. Dockery took a 
 swallow and returned the dipper. When she had 
 resumed her seat, Dockery said: 
 
 "I am a very candid man." 
 
 "I admire candor," she remarked. 
 
 "When I was in the legislature," the editor continued, 
 "my opponents all gave me the credit of being candid." 
 
 "It was generous of them." 
 
 "They could not help it." 
 
 "Indeed." 
 
 "Yes. So you want me to be candid with you?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Well get some more water never mind, I've just
 
 254 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 had a drink, thank you," he added, as though declining 
 an invitation. "What I was going to say is this: I have 
 never met a woman who so much impressed me as you 
 have. In fact, Miss Pauline, I love you, and want you 
 to be my wife. What do you say?" 
 
 "0 Mr. Dockery, I don't know what to say. Your 
 question comes so unexpectedly. I confess that I like 
 you very much." 
 
 He reached over, took her hand, held it a moment and 
 released it. "My business prospects are good," said he, 
 "and, as I said before, we can make my our paper a 
 phenomenal success." 
 
 "Yes, I believe we could." 
 
 "And we must." 
 
 "You must give me time to think about it." 
 
 "How long?" 
 
 "A week." 
 
 "Well, it shall be as you say. As I have a great deal 
 of writing to do I must go." 
 
 She followed him to the gate. The brindle cow 
 looked at them and lowed. When Dockery had gone, 
 Miss Pauline hurried to her room and wrote a letter to 
 her father. The following is an extract from the let 
 ter: 
 
 "Yes, I am to be married, and it is high time, as I 
 am now thirty-three years old. The man, Mr. Dockery, 
 is not handsome, but he has good prospects, and is an 
 editor. This will give me a chance to write, and you 
 know I have set my soul on it. I send you five dollars, 
 which is all the money I can spare. Goodness knows 
 our old house is bad enough, but if we can't afford to
 
 LEN GANSETT. 255 
 
 pay the rent you'd better get a cheaper house. I will 
 write you again soon/' 
 
 "Beckon that's settled," Dockery mused as he walked 
 along the dusty road. "I guess she loves me. She is 
 not so bad-looking, and^that watch and chain sets her off. 
 Guess I'll wear it after a while. Women don't need 
 watches. I think that after we are married I'll give up 
 the newspaper business. If her father is the right sort 
 of a man he won't mind taking me in with him. Hello, 
 that you, Honey cut?" 
 
 "Whut's left uv me," Honeycut replied. 
 
 "Which way?" 
 
 "Jest knockin' 'round. Thought I'd call on Gansett, 
 as I ain't seed him in a good while, but when I got ter 
 his office it was shut up." 
 
 "Got business with him?" 
 
 "Yes. I hear he's goin' ter git married." 
 
 "I understand so." 
 
 "Wall, I've got a leetle suthin' ter say erbout it. Ther 
 ole man promised that gal ter me er long time ergo, an' 
 I ain't goin' ter gin er up so easy." 
 
 "I wouldn't, if I were in your place." 
 
 "Don't 'low ter, let me tell yer. Me an' Gansett ain't 
 got much love fur each other." 
 
 "I don't think that Gansett and anybody else have 
 very much love for each other." 
 
 "Me nuther; but ef he thinks that he ken work me 
 he'll find that he's got the wrong sow by the year. I've 
 got jest ernuff licker in me now not ter give a damn fur 
 nobody, an' it won't be pie fur him ef he fools with me. 
 I ain't no slouch. He tried ter kill me onct."
 
 256 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "You don't say so?" 
 
 "Beckon I do. Tried to fling me offen a bluff, an* I 
 ain't f urgot it, nuther. Got ernuff licker in me ter whip 
 the fust feller and the next one what comes erlong, an' 
 when I git afoul uv Gansett I won't use a hroon-straw, 
 nuther. Ain't afeerd uv hell'n'er high water. Got 
 licker ernuff in me ter tell yer that. Never was downed 
 by a man yit. Wall, so long. Ef anything happens, 
 keep yer mouth shet. Got licker ernuff in me ter tell 
 yer that."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 257 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 HONEYCUT, staggering as he walked, turned away. 
 Dockery, watching him mused: "Don't believe it would 
 be very good for Gansett if he were to meet that fellow 
 in the road. I haven't got anything particularly against 
 Gansett, and would warn him of his danger if I were 
 not afraid of Honeycut. He would accuse me of med 
 dling in his affairs. Honeycut is a bad man. I haven't 
 the physical courage to tackle bad men, but. when it 
 comes to moral courage I am essentially there." 
 
 Honeycut went to the "Picket" office, seized the dor- 
 knob, rattled the door, and exclaimed: "Come out ef 
 yer air in thar! I'm fixed fur yer, an' ken whup Mort 
 Haney an' ther whole kit an' b'ilin' uv yer. Got licker 
 ernuff in me ter tell yer what I want yer ter un'erstan'. 
 Ain't in thar, eh? Wall, I reckon I ken find yer/' 
 
 He turned away, and with unsteady steps pursued his 
 course toward old man Gansett's house. Once he step 
 ped in a wagon-rut and fell. He scrambled up, clapped 
 his hand on his side pocket, and said, "Thought I'd 
 broke old Betsy, but I hain't, though. Come out, Bets, 
 an' let me tilt yer." 
 
 He drew a bottle from his pocket, shook it, and held 
 it up between himself and the sheet lightning which 
 continued to flash in the west. 
 
 "Here's ter yer, ole red-eye," he said. "Lightnin' ter 
 lightnin' an' dad's deal. Haw, haw, that ain't bad!
 
 258 ZEN GANSETf. 
 
 Here's at yer, dod rot yer!" He took a drink, returned 
 the bottle to his pocket and continued his walk. 
 
 "I'm stirred up now," he muttered. "Ain't nothin' 
 like gittin' er man's blood b'ilin' hot. Whup any man 
 in the country. Got licker ernuff in me ter say that, 
 an' do whut I say, too. Hi yah, you little son-of-a-gun!" 
 A frightened dog had run across the road. Thunder 
 rumbled in the far west, and the lightning became more 
 vivid. 
 
 "I'll call ther whelp out an' put it ter him, an' ef the 
 old man kicks I'll gin him er dose. Whoop! on thar war 
 path now, with plenty uv licker an' forty yards uv back 
 bone. Come out, Bets, an' lemme tickle yer. Whew!" 
 he added, as he recorked the bottle, "I'm as hot as a 
 guinea nigger er thinnin' co'n. B'l'eve I'll rest erwhile 
 an' then cut my capers; 'sides that, I ain't got quite 
 licker 'nuff yit." 
 
 He stepped aside into the woods and sat down on a 
 log, placing the bottle beside him; then, in a hoarse 
 voice, he began to sing: 
 
 "Nigger on er wood-pile, couldn't count 'leben, 
 
 Flung him in er feather-bed an' he thought he wuz in heben, 
 
 An' er, oh, Lawd, gals, come er git out uv ther wilderness"-- 
 
 "Hell, whut's the use'n singin' when thar ain't no 
 body ter hear me?. Come here, Bets." He snatched up 
 the bottle and drank. Then he leaned forward, with 
 his elbows on his knees, and with his chin resting on 
 the palms of his hands. "Bet yer life, ole Honeycut 
 never furgits nothin'. Bet yer life, ef er man slights 
 him he's got ter look out fur hisse'f. Go down thar
 
 LEN GANSETT. 259 
 
 putty soon, an' stir things up with a sharp stick. Oh, 
 I'm here, bet yer life on that! Come here, Bets. Whut's 
 the matter with yer? Gittin' empty, eh? Wall, I know 
 whar thar's mo' ter be found." 
 
 His head sunk lower. He muttered something, snored, 
 and fell off the log. He did not get up, but stretched 
 himself out and turned over on his back. Wind, vivid 
 flashes of lightning, and deafening claps of thunder, 
 but the wretch did not awake. Eain fell in torrents; 
 still he slept, not on his back, for, with a drunken man's 
 unconscious instinct, he had turned over on his side, 
 and shielded his head with his arms. The rain was 
 still falling when Honey cut sprang to his feet. He 
 uttered an exclamation of alarm. 
 
 "My Lord, whut am I doin' here? Whar's my bottle? 
 Empty!" he despairingly added. "Whar am I, anyway? 
 Blamed ef I know. Wet as er drowned rat, but as dry as 
 erbone. Some feller must've flung me up, wet ur dry, 
 an' I must've come down on both sides at wunst. No 
 use'n tryin' ter find my way outen here tell daylight. 
 Gittin' lighter now, 'pears like. Let me see, whut wuz 
 I goin' ter do anyway? Yes," he added, with a shud 
 der, "I was on my way ter kill Gansett." 
 
 The shudder was not the result of the abhorrence in 
 which he held the shedding of blood, but of thinking 
 of his own danger. The darkness surrendered with 
 reluctance; daylight came with faint and timid streaks. 
 
 "Humph!" grunted Honey cut; "I ain't fur frum ther 
 road, an' I b'l'eve I'll shove away frum here. Gee whiz!" 
 he exclaimed, when he had turned a bend in the road, 
 "yander is old Gansett's house. Ef I'd er knowd I wuz
 
 260 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 so clos't last night I woulder kep' on an' not sot down on 
 that log. Mebbe it's er good thing fur somebody that I 
 did stop, an' I don't know ef that somebody ain't me. 
 Thar's ther ole man in ther yard. Never ketch him in 
 bed airter daylight. Who's that with him? Blamed ef 
 it ain't Dockery. Lemme see, didn't I meet him last 
 night B'l'eve I did. Wonder ef I said anything ter 
 him erbout Gansett? Don't b'l'eve I'd better go by thar. 
 Helloa, they see me, an' I mout's well face ther music. 
 Thar's Len, too. They air all comin' out ter ther fence." 
 
 Dockery walked behind Len, apparently attempting 
 to shrink from view. 
 
 "Good-mornin', gentlemen" was Mr. Honeycut's 
 salutation as he reached the fence and placed his arms 
 on the top rail. "Got out putty early, didn't yer? But 
 yer wa'n't out as early as I wuz, fur I ain't been ter bed 
 yit. Helloa, Dockery! thought I left yer in town last 
 night." 
 
 "I believe you did; that is, I remember seeing you in 
 town about the time I had started to visit my esteemed 
 contemporary here." 
 
 "Old man," said Honeycut, "lookin' well this mornin', 
 fresh as er watermillon vine airter er rain." 
 
 "I am feelin' very well," the old man replied. 
 
 "An' you," pursued Honeycut, addressing Len, "air 
 all right, air yer?" 
 
 "Yes; with thanks for your kind inquiry." 
 
 "Not er tall, not er tall. Say, Dockery, ef yer ain't 
 too busy I'd like ter see yer er minit." 
 
 Dockery pretended not to hear. He quickly looked at
 
 LEN GANSETT. 261 
 
 Len, then at the old man, and then looked far away at 
 nothing. 
 
 "Hear whut I said, Dock?" 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "I said ef yer wa'n't too "busy I'd like ter see yer er 
 minit:" 
 
 Dockery reluctantly passed out at the gate, and joined 
 Honeycut. They walked a short distance away, neither 
 of them speaking. 
 
 "I wanted ter ax yer," said Honeycut, stopping and 
 placing one foot on a low stump, "ef yer said anythin* 
 ter them fellows erbout our talk last night." 
 
 Honeycut was leaning forward with his elbow on his 
 knee. He looked up at Dockery with a wicked squint. 
 
 "What talk?" the editor asked, nervously picking at 
 a thread on his dingy coat-sleeve. 
 
 "The talk we had last night when I had so much licker 
 aboard." 
 
 "Oh, that talk! Not a word, Honeycut; not a word." 
 
 "What made yer come over so soon airter I left?" 
 
 "Had particular business with Len." 
 
 "Whut bus'ness?" 
 
 "Oh, something with regard to the consolidation of 
 our papers. Say, they are there waiting for me. Eeckon 
 breakfast must be ready." 
 
 "Wall, I must shove along. Eecolleck I don't want 
 no underhand bus'ness with me. Eecolleck that even 
 when I'm sober I am all wool, an' er little mo'n three- 
 quarters uv er yard wide." 
 
 Dockery rejoined Len and old man Gansett. After 
 leaving Honeycut the night before, the wily editor,
 
 262 ## GAN8ETT. 
 
 thinking that his time for making a strike had come, 
 hurried to the Gansett farm. "If I warn Len," he 
 mused, "he will do everything he can to help me into the 
 good, an, I hope, profitable graces of old man Chack- 
 erin; and I am running no risk, for the fellow, even if 
 he should hurt somebody and escape, can't remember 
 that he met me. I can prepare Len, and when Honey- 
 cut comes Len can shoot him, and that will be the end of 
 it. If old Chaekerin should fail to take me in, Len, in 
 view of the service I have performed, will gladly consent 
 to a consolidation of our papers. Then I can walk right 
 into Congress." 
 
 Dockery, upon imparting his startling information, 
 had been much cast down at the quiet demeanor of the 
 old man and his grandson. The old man had merely 
 remarked, "I knew a feller once that started out to kill 
 a community of people, but he was shortly afterward 
 took with the cramp an' died without seem' his friends." 
 
 Dockery, with the confused shadows of disappoint 
 ment and dismay settling upon his face turned to Len, 
 hoping to read some sign of alarm, but the young man 
 had chilled him by this quiet observation: "Whiskey 
 has different effects upon some people. Some people 
 want to sing, others to dance, others to tell all they 
 know, which, barring repetition, would consume but 
 little time, and others want to fight." 
 
 When the rain came, the old man, much elated at the 
 prospects of a good "season," went out and get wet, as 
 usual, and when bedtime arrived Dockery was shown 
 to a room. He had seen none of the preparations which 
 alarm should inspire, and, after starting at every sound,
 
 LEN OANSETT. 263 
 
 sank into a troubled sleep. Dockery thought of all this 
 as he slowly walked hack to the spot where Len and the 
 old man were standing. 
 
 "Wanted to borrow five dollars of me/' said Dockery, 
 as he closed the gate. 
 
 "Did you let him have the money?" Len asked, wink 
 ing at the old man. 
 
 "No, I told him that times were so hard that I couldn't 
 afford it." 
 
 "Wonder why he didn't call on us last night?" the 
 old man remarked. 
 
 "Must have got too drunk," Dockery rejoined; "but 
 let me tell you, Len, keep an eye on him, for he's a 
 bad man; and, by the way, if he should ever ask you why 
 I came over last night, for the Lord's sake and my own 
 don't tell him. He wouldn't hesitate to butcher me 
 and head me up in a flour-barrel." 
 
 Immediately after breakfast Dockery returned to Dog 
 wood. While Len was waiting for Ned to come along 
 Colonel Bently rode up. 
 
 "Light, colonel, an' look at yer saddle," old Bob 
 called. 
 
 "No, thank you, I haven't time. I want to see Len 
 a moment." 
 
 By this time Len had reached the fence. 
 
 "How are you, my dear fellow?" said the colonel, 
 holding out his hand. 
 
 They cordially shook hands. "No," said the colonel, 
 in reply to a pressing invitation to get down, "I haven't 
 time. I came over to ask a favor of you." 
 
 "It is granted before you name it/'
 
 264 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "I thought so. For some time I have been thinking 
 of going to England. I am an Englishman "by birth, 
 you know. I want to go back and look at the old 
 country once more, and I want you, while I am away, 
 to look after my house and affairs as well as you can. 
 You needn't go over to the house very often, once every 
 three days, say." 
 
 "Of course I will serve you to the fullest extent of 
 my capacity, but you are not going at once, are you?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not immediately. I have considerable busi 
 ness to attend to before I leave; must go to Little Rock, 
 and possibly to Galveston. I am now on my way to Oak 
 Hill to complete the sale of my stage line. I am to meet 
 a man there from St. Louis. Well, I'll see you again 
 and have a long talk with you before I leave. Take care 
 of yourself until I see you again." 
 
 A few moments later Ned made her appearance. She 
 wore a new muslin dress, covered with pink prints of 
 flowers. It could not have been made plainer, but it was 
 the picture of neatness. She wore two roses in her hair, 
 and around her waist she had gayly tied a belt of vines. 
 
 "Why, my little girl," said Len, advancing to meet 
 her, "you look as though you were dressed for a festival." 
 
 "You sha'n't make fun of me," she laughingly said, 
 and then ,glancing toward the house to see if any one 
 were looking, she snatched the vines from around her 
 waist, and, holding both ends, threw them over Len's 
 head, pulled him down and kissed him. When she had 
 released him and bounded away he said, "Come, don't 
 you think you'd better throw that delicious lariat 
 again?"
 
 LEN GANSETT. 265 
 
 "No, I don't, you rascal!" 
 
 "You started in with so much more affection tnan 
 usual that I thought you might keep it up." 
 
 "But I'm not." 
 
 "Why are you dressed so beautifully this morning?" 
 
 "Keep away from me," she joyously cried. "You'll 
 muss me all up. I came over to tell you that I am not 
 going to work to-day. This is father's birthday, and we 
 are going to spend it in the woods." 
 
 "Won't you let me spend it with you?" 
 
 "No, that wouldn't do." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, don't you nuderstand? If you are with me I 
 can't be the girl I was, and to-day I am going back in 
 the past." 
 
 "But why do you wear that dress?" 
 
 "So when I look at it my heart can leap out of the 
 past and swell in contemplation of the future. Won't 
 you let me have my way?" 
 
 "Assuredly; but you have thrown down your lariat." 
 
 "Oh, I'll kiss you, but don't put your hands on me. 
 There, and there," kissing him twice. "Now let me go. 
 Was ever there a woman such a fool about a man?" 
 
 She ran away from him. The sun came out. He saw 
 the roses nodding in the bright light as she ran down 
 the hill. 
 
 Shortly after Len reached the office he received a 
 note from Miss Pauline, asking him to call on her 
 immediately. When he arrived at her boarding-house 
 he found her standing at the gate. 
 
 "You must excuse my sending for you," she said, "but
 
 266 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 I wanted to see you on very particular business. Good 
 ness, I have not asked you to come in. How I do go on!" 
 
 "I haven't time to come in." 
 
 "Well, then, I must consult you out here. You are 
 a comparative stranger to me, but I do feel as if I could 
 confide in you. Girls have so few friends in whom they 
 can rely anyway there I go again. Well, what I am 
 going to say is this, and I don't want you to breathe a 
 word of it to aybody, not a living soul: yesterday evening 
 Mr. Dockery came to see me and now you are not to 
 mention it and asked me to be his wife. I was 
 shocked, for the proposal was so unexpected. I did not 
 give him a final answer, preferring rather to consult 
 some one. What do you think I ought to do?" 
 
 "Miss Chackerin, I am the last man in the world you 
 should consult." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I am not competent to give advice with 
 regard to such matters." 
 
 "Well, you can tell me this: What are his prospects?" 
 
 "I know nothing about his business." 
 
 "But don't you think that with my help his paper 
 might be made to pay?" 
 
 "I cannot say." 
 
 "Well, then, I must rely on my own judgment." 
 
 While this conversation was going on Dockery 
 was writing a letter to the postmaster of the town in 
 which old man Chackerin lived.
 
 LEN GA.NSETT. 267 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 ONE evening Len received a note from Colonel Bently, 
 requesting, if convenient, an immediate interview. Gan- 
 sett answered the note by calling at the colonel's house. 
 
 "Ah, my dear boy," exclaimed the colonel, cordially 
 seizing Len's hand, "I knew you would come! I did 
 not like the idea of placing you under the slightest in 
 convenience, and would have called on you, but really, 
 in my present state of hurry and bustle, I could but ill 
 spare the time/' 
 
 "Don't mention it," Len replied, seating himself in 
 an arm-chair which the host had brought forward. 
 "Have you perfected all your arrangements?" 
 
 "Not satisfactorily. I have failed to dispose of my 
 stage line. The man made his appearance, but having 
 heard, while in the neighborhood, that the stage was 
 sometimes robbed, he gracefully withdrew, and returned 
 to St. Louis. But I shall not allow this to interfere with 
 my trip. I would go now that I have made up my mind, 
 even if I were compelled to sacrifice everything I possess. 
 Would it be asking too much to request you to go out 
 to Oak Hill occasionally? I haven't, as you are aware, 
 much confidence in my driver, and I do not think that 
 my agent at Oak Hill is above turning a dishonest penny 
 now and then." 
 
 "My dear colonel," Len rejoined, warmly, "you can 
 not ask too much of me." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear boy. It is positively refreshing
 
 268 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 to meet a man who has so fine a sense of accomodation. 
 Understand, now, you are not to put yourself to any 
 trouble. I don't want you to neglect a single thing your 
 duty to yourself says must be performed. To you my 
 interests must be of minor consideration. Everything, 
 I trust, will go on smoothly, that is, as smoothly as here 
 tofore; and, assured that you will throw out an occasional 
 glance in my behalf, the waves of the old ocean may 
 toss me, the blanching cliffs of my native land may 
 throw at me ill-boding look, my native town, where 
 William of Orange first set his foot in England, may 
 refuse to greet me with a single gleam of welcome, yet I 
 shall feel perfectly easy with regard to my interest here. 
 Not another word, Gansett," he added, as Len made a 
 motion with his hands, expressive of the obligations 
 which overwhelmed him; "not another word. I want no 
 promises. I only want to know that you will not entirely 
 forget me. There' I have wearied you with my profuse 
 estimate of your sendees. John," addressing a negro 
 boy who had just made his appearance, "Mr. Gansett 
 will stay all night and see me off in the morning. Not 
 another word, now. Come, supper is ready." 
 
 After supper the two men talked until the clock struck 
 a late hour. The colonel explained his plans. He was 
 so much wrapped up in his contemplated visit to his old 
 home that he did not look beyond it. 
 
 He fell into reminiscence, then sank into history. He 
 would approach his home with the admiration of a stu 
 dent, and would bound ashore with the enthusiasm of 
 a delighted boy. His people had never been great in 
 history, having espoused the parliament's cause in the
 
 LEN GANSETT. 269 
 
 great civil war, but they had always commanded respect 
 in their neighborhood. "I shall," the colonel said, 
 "tremble with none of the emotions which seize a man 
 who returns to a home where familiar scenes await him. 
 There are no great trees well known in childhood, nor 
 no gushing springs associated with youth, to await me, 
 for I cannot remember when I left the country, but 
 I feel that I shall approach as the Oriental approaches a 
 mosque at whose shrine his fathers worshipped. I shall 
 feel the grandeur which ages have woven into wreaths 
 and wound about the summits of the old hills; and the 
 stars, to me, will seem as though from time immemorial 
 they have been set to watch over the scene." 
 
 Early the next morning the colonel, bidding Len fare 
 well, was driven to Oak Hill. 
 
 The Hon. Mangus Dockery had not long to wait for 
 an aswer to his letter, making inquiry of Miss Pauline's 
 father. The postmaster wrote as follows: "Old man 
 Chackerin has been living here several years; came from 
 Indiana, I believe. He may have been a great slave 
 owner in his time, but if he did it was under a special act 
 of Congress. The old fellow is a sot. I am told that he is 
 a pretty fair shoemaker, which is much to his credit, 
 but he has long since degenerated into an unreliable 
 cobbler. He owns no property, and if you hear a man 
 who ever collected a debt which the old fellow owed, 
 please forward his name at once. Barring the fact that 
 he has never been detected in telling a truth, he is a 
 pretty good sort of fellow. His daughter, partly by her 
 own force of will and partly by subscription, received 
 a very fair education. She might have done well here
 
 270 LEX GAN8ETT. 
 
 if she had not, after her return from school, considered 
 herself superior to every one in the community. It may 
 not be of interest, but I will say that she created quite 
 a sensation here some time ago by suing a well-known 
 lawyer for breach of promise. If the old man owes you 
 anything, please accept my sympathy. If you want my 
 bill against him I will send it to you." 
 
 Mr. Dockery groaned when he read the letter, and, 
 although his office was well ventilated, he raised the 
 window and stuck his head out, much after the fashion 
 of the deputy sheriff who calls people into court. He 
 let down the window, went out, looked toward Miss 
 Pauline's school, and frowned. Then he returned to 
 his desk, slammed a chair made of twine strings and pine 
 boards against the wall which made the house shake 
 and said, "Catch anybody picking me up! Catch any 
 woman making a fool of me! I haven't lived here for 
 nothing. Needn't think I am a summer coon. Thinks 
 she's caught me, but she's off. Came into this neighbor 
 hood representing herself as a princess; but I'll show her 
 what's what. Nobody can pick me up. No, Hon. Mr. 
 Dockery," he added, as he caught sight of himself in a 
 three-cornered fragment of looking-glass, tacked against 
 the wall, "no lady can play you for a sucker. Some 
 people ignorant people, I must say may consider 
 Mangus Dockery a sucker; but he is not. Mangus is on 
 top; and don't you forget that. Even if his marriage is 
 null and void, don't forget that he can work Gansett, 
 who is indebted to him for his life. Now, young lady, 
 you must shift for yourself. You may be accomplished 
 and all that, but Mr. Dockery the Hon. Mr. Dockery,
 
 LEN GANSETT. 271 
 
 if you please cannot afford to throw himself away on 
 you. He would love you yes, if you had not deceived 
 him, but as it is, you must take your chances. Miss 
 Pauline, I am afraid I must bid you an extended adieu." 
 
 Mr. Dockery had received a note from Miss Pauline, 
 in which that young lady confessed her devouring love 
 for him, together with a happy concurrence in the mar 
 riage proposal. Dockery had, in an unrestrained gush 
 of sentiment, answered the note. He told the young 
 lady that without hr his life would be a barren wasle. 
 Why he expressed himself in a manner so original is not 
 known. It is somewhat singular that other men have 
 not said, "without you my life would be a barren waste." 
 
 "I am committed to call upon you this evening," Mr. 
 Dockery continued to muse; "but, Maid of Athens, 
 Tennessee, thou shalt feel that thy lover hath departed, 
 and that the cool, unruffled, and severe critic has taken 
 his place. Maid of Eome, Georgia, the man in whom 
 this intelligent community placed its most sacred trust 
 may be generous to a fault, and forgiving to a degree 
 almost unbecoming to a statesman, but he cannot quietly 
 submit to a marriage which, however advantageous to 
 the other party, is disastrous to himself. Maid of 
 Alexandria, Arkansas, farewell!" 
 
 At the appointed time Dockery called at the house 
 where Miss Chackerin irritated a nervous old piano, and 
 ate beefsteak fried in ham-fat and ancient lard. She met 
 him with a gracious smile, and gracefully wheeled an 
 arm-chair into position for him. When he had seated 
 himself, she placed an ottoman a small cheese-box 
 covered with a piece or rag carpet near the chair, sat
 
 272 'LEN GANSETT. 
 
 down upon it, clasped her hands over Mr. Dockery's 
 knee, looked with soft eyes at him, and said: 
 
 "The shadows of evening come and darken the earth, 
 but love, mingled love, makes all things bright." 
 
 Dockery nervously twisted himself in his chair, looked 
 away at the village cow, which just at that time was lift 
 ing a yard gate off its hinges, and replied, "Yes, that's 
 a fact." 
 
 Miss Pauline, looking searchingly at him, responded: 
 "By commonplace acknowledgement, sentiment loses 
 half its charm. You seem cool and distant this eve." 
 
 "I am not cool," Dockery answered, as he mopped 
 the perspiration from his face. "If I were, I would not 
 ooze so freely, and being so near you is a refutation of 
 your assertion that I am distant." 
 
 "Come, Mangus, I am too tender to be joked. The 
 birds twitter, but they do not joke with each other. Let 
 us be serious." 
 
 "I am serious," Dockery answered, in a tone so rasping 
 that Miss Pauline unclasped her hands. "This is a time 
 ti be serious, Miss Chackerin; it is my painful duty to 
 tell you that our warm relationship must end. I hold 
 you in the highest esteem, understand, and shall ever be 
 willing to assist you; but my duty to my constituents 
 I mean my duty to myself, forbids our marriage." 
 
 The young lady did not become excited. She did not 
 seize a handkerchief and press it to her eyes, but, aris 
 ing from the ottoman and taking a sort of whalebone 
 position, suggestive of being ready to spring, she 
 replied: 
 
 "Your mind, I fancy, is playing you odd capers."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 273 
 
 "Oh, no, not at all. I find that my prospects are not 
 so bright as I thought. My subscription list has begun 
 to fall off and my advertising patronage has begun to 
 shrink. I dislike to tell you this, but is my duty/' 
 
 "I can help you to regain what you have lost." 
 
 "I don't think you can. In times of prosperity a 
 woman may be a blessing in a printing-office, but at time 
 of adversity she is a curse." 
 
 With demeanor distressingly calm, in a voice danger 
 ously firm, Miss Pauline said: 
 
 "Mr. Dockery, in your dealings with shallow-minded 
 people vacillation may count as an evidence of genius, 
 but I wish to assure you that I am not shallow-minded, 
 and that I shall not permit any vacillation to interfere 
 with my plans. You have asked me to be your wife; 1 
 have consented." 
 
 "Yes, but now I tell you that 1 am in no condition to 
 marry you." 
 
 "Yes, you are." 
 
 "I tell you that I am not. I am a married man. My 
 wife lives in Texas." 
 
 Even this did not shock her. "Mr. Dockery," she 
 calmly replied, "I admire a skilful falsehood, but I 
 detest a clumsy one." 
 
 "You don't believe that I am married?" 
 
 "No;" but I believe that you soon will be." 
 
 "Here, read this," said Dockery, taking from his 
 pocket the postmaster's letter, and handing it to her. 
 She read the letter, and without the slightest emotion 
 returned it to him. "It is a verj; well written letter/'"
 
 274 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 she said. "I did not know the fellow could write so 
 well." 
 
 "Great Lord,, woman!" Dockery exclaimed; "does 
 nothing have any effect on you?" 
 
 "Nothing produces no effect. Something must be 
 introduced to produce an effect upon me. Oh, I see your 
 disappointment. You thought that I was a giddy, sim 
 pering girl, and found that I am " 
 
 "Old enough to be my mother/' Dockery suggested. 
 
 She laughed, turned down the light which was burn 
 ing too high, and replied, "In sense, yes; in other 
 respects, no. You expected to hear sobs and see tears 
 to-night, but you are disappointed. I desire to tell you, 
 sir, that I am no fool. There is only one person in this 
 neighborhood sharp enough to deal with me, and that 
 person and 1 cannot help but admire her is that self- 
 educated Miss Hobdy. Oh, you expected to hear me 
 rattle off a rhapsody, eh? Well, I have not. Now, sir, 
 I shall be plain with you. I must be your wife; not par 
 ticularly because I love you, but because I have set my 
 heart upon it. You cannot escape me. I have a note 
 from you, in which you acknowledged your love for me, 
 and in which you speak of our approaching marriage. 
 I have taken care to preserve this bit of writing, not on 
 account of its sentiment, but on account of its value as 
 testimony. The letter which you received from the 
 postmaster tells you that I once sued a man for breach 
 of promise. Yes, and the money which I received paid 
 for a scholastic course which I was desirous of taking." 
 
 "That's all very well," Dockery broke in; "but a suit
 
 LEN GANSETT. 275 
 
 brought against me would not yield money enough to 
 buy a supper for a grasshopper." 
 
 "Oh, I am perfectly aware of that, Mr. Dockery. I 
 know that you are worthless, but I shall sue you, never 
 theless." 
 
 "You won't get anything." 
 
 "But I can ruin your prospects." 
 
 "I have no prospects>" 
 
 "You have a back." 
 
 "A back?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "I mean that I shall sue you, and then publicly horse 
 whip you. Mr. Dockery," she added, seizing a fan 
 which lay on the old piano, "old maids are not always 
 weak. Don't stare at me. I am not dangerous. I have 
 told you the result of your refusing to marry me. Now 
 let me tell you the result of your compliance. I shall 
 do everything I can to advance you. I will not fill up 
 your paper with sentimental stories, but will write of 
 happenings, such as will please our readers. I will learn 
 to set type and to manage the business. There are 
 enough people in this community to support two papers, 
 and our paper must be supported. I know that you are 
 a man of some reading, shallow reading, and that in 
 a certain way you may become useful to your interests. 
 If you refuse to love me, you must obey me." 
 
 Dockery got up, approached the door, placed his hand 
 on the knob, turned and said: 
 
 "You're a hell of a woman!" 
 
 "You have stated the case," she replied, advancing.
 
 276 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "You want to crush me." 
 
 "No. that would be no achievement." 
 
 "If you think so little of me, why do you want to 
 marry me?" 
 
 "That is a question which almost puzzles me. Fate 
 must have decreed it." 
 
 "And I suppose fate decreed that you should marry 
 the man whom you sued?" 
 
 "Oh, no; but fate did decree that he should give me 
 money to assist my education." 
 
 "I wish you had married him." 
 
 "So do I." 
 
 "Let me make a proposition." 
 
 "I am willing." 
 
 "I will leave it to Gansett." 
 
 "All right. Shall we go now?" 
 
 "No; he is not at his office. Let us wait until to 
 morrow." 
 
 "I agree. You will abide by what he says?" 
 
 "Yes; but you must not see him before I do." 
 
 "I won't." 
 
 "I think that he will decide in my favor," said Dock- 
 ery. 
 
 "If he does, you will not hear a word of complaint 
 from me." 
 
 "Suppose we leave it to Gansett and Miss Hobdy?" 
 
 "I am willing." 
 
 "Why are you willing?" 
 
 "Because I believe that they will act rightly, and be 
 cause I know that my cause is right."
 
 LEN GAtfSETT. 277 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Dockery had promised Miss Pauline that 
 he would not seek an opportunity of confering with Len 
 previous to an appointed time, when they should both 
 call upon him and Miss Hobdy, yet very early the next 
 morning Dockery went over to old man Gansett's house. 
 He had not time to go into the house, he declared, when 
 old Bob opened the door in response to Dockery's holloa 
 at the gate. 
 
 "Tell Len to come out a minute, please. I want to 
 see him on very particular business/' 
 
 Len soon appeared, scarcely able to repress a laugh 
 when he noticed Dockery's ludicrously anxious face. 
 
 "Come in, Dockery!" 
 
 "No, my dear friend, I haven't time. Say, can you 
 take a short stroll with me?" 
 
 "Only a very short one, for breakfast will soon be 
 ready." 
 
 They slowly walked along the road winding among 
 the trees. "Gansett," said the editor of the "Eagle of 
 Freedom," "to me you have been a friend of value and 
 information. I have come to you for adivce even be 
 fore you were a professional when I would not have 
 gone anywhere else, I hope, sir, that you appreciate the 
 confidence I have felt in your ability and integrity. Now, 
 sir, I again come to you, and I hope that you will not 
 only advise me as as as I desire to be advised, but 
 that when the question is finally left to you, and some
 
 278 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 one else whose name I shall in time reveal, that you will 
 decide in my favor/' 
 
 He then gave an account of his last interview with 
 Miss Pauline. "And now, dear Gansett," affectionately 
 placing his hand on Len shoulder, "will you step in and 
 save me from a designing woman, whom I have learned 
 to despise? Would you see me humilated, my useful 
 ness crushed, my life blasted? I see, by the noble ex 
 pression of your eyes, that you would not. Give me 
 your hand, my dear Gansett. Thank heaven that degen 
 eration has not placed its blighting hand upon every 
 man!" 
 
 "You may depend upon me, Dockery." 
 
 "God bless you, Gansett! God bless you, my dear boy! 
 You are a genius, if there ever was one. Well, I must 
 hurry back now. When the affair comes up be sure that 
 you do not, by even a look or a nod, give the fair one an 
 inkling of what has taken place this morning. 3 * 
 
 "Leave all that to me, Dockery." 
 
 "HI do it, my dear friend; I'll do it. Oh, I knew that 
 you would not forget the service which 1 recently rend 
 ered you." 
 
 "Won't you take breakfast with me?" 
 
 The editor of the "Eagle of Freedom" was possessed 
 of a keen appetite, and he had never been known to 
 decline an invitation to eat; yet, on this occasion, so 
 pressing was the necessity of fcjs speedy return to the 
 village that he positively refused to eat. 
 
 "It makes me shudder to think of marrying that 
 woman," he mused, as he hurried over a "near cut ?> 
 through the woods. "It is startling to contemplate the
 
 tm &AXSETT, 279 
 
 impudence of low-bred people. All, my lady, the man 
 who handles the instrument which is mightier than the 
 sword will give you a turn to-day that you will not soon 
 forget/' 
 
 Dockery was in his office, making a pretence of great 
 industry when Miss Pauline called upon him. 
 
 "It is nearly school-time/' she said, "and as you did 
 not call for me I was afraid that you had forgotten your 
 promise/' 
 
 "Never forgot a promise in my life, my dear Miss. 
 Take a seat/' 
 
 "No, we have no time to waste. Let us go at once." 
 
 "I am ready/' 
 
 "And I am delighted at your willingness." 
 
 "Needn't be," Dockery muttered to himself, as he 
 raked a pile of exchanges into the corner. 
 
 When they had entered the "Picket" office Len made 
 a sign to Collins, who immediately withdrew. Ned and 
 Miss Pauline began a vivacious discussion of neighbor 
 hood affairs, while Len and Dockery spoke of the poli 
 tical situation. After a while they gathered about a 
 table, when Dockery briefly stated the cause of the visit. 
 He made a speech so forlornly absurd that his auditors 
 laughed. "It is no laughing matter," said the recal 
 citrant lover. "It is almost a case of life and death." 
 
 When he had concluded, Miss Pauline said: "The 
 strangeness, I may say the ridiculousness, of this affair 
 is painfully apparent, and I would gladly wash my hands 
 of it but for my determination that Mr. Dockery shall 
 not play with me as though I were a toy. He asked me
 
 280 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 to be his wife. I gave my consent; but when he found 
 that I was not a daughter of rich parents ' 
 
 "Hold on!" Dockery interposed; "you doubtless mean 
 that when I found that I had been deceived." 
 
 "You have made your speech, sir. If I deceived you 
 more than you deceived me it was not due to your 
 scruples, but due to the fact that my chances were bet 
 ter than yours. I think I am capable of making him a 
 good wife." 
 
 "Oh, I don't doubt that, Miss," Dockery exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, then," said Len, "if you do not doubt it, we 
 think that you should marry her." 
 
 Dockery's eyes bulged out. "Don't joke, Gansett!" 
 he gasped. 
 
 "It is no joke, Dockery. All men agree that mar 
 riage is serious." 
 
 Dockery: "I appeal to Miss Hobdy." 
 
 Ned: "Mr. Gansett has expressed my opinion." 
 
 Miss Pauline (with a smiling bow): "I thank you for 
 the justice of your decision." 
 
 Dockery (struggling to suppress his indignation): 
 "There is no justice about it. Gansett you have not 
 treated me fairly. Eemember that I one time saved 
 your life." 
 
 Gansett (good-humoredly): "And that I now advise 
 you to make this girl your wife." 
 
 Dockery (furiously striking the table): "This is no 
 occasion for foolish rhyme." 
 
 Gansett (laughing): "Nor for violent action." 
 
 Dockery (to ISTed): "Miss Hobdy, I though better of 
 you."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 281 
 
 Ned: "In compliment of me you might have thought 
 : worse." 
 
 Dockery: "This beats any farce I ever heard of. Miss 
 Chackerin, you surely did not think that I was in earn 
 est when I proposed to leave this affair to Gansett." 
 
 Miss Pauline: "I took you at your word." 
 
 Dockery: "You should not have done so. The whole 
 thing was a joke. Ha, ha (mirthlessly) only a joke. 
 I am a humorist, miss." 
 
 Miss Pauline: "I am glad to know it. I have often 
 heard that humorists haven't enough willforce to make 
 bad husbands." 
 
 Dockery (contemptuously): "Woman, I cannot help 
 but pity you." 
 
 Gansett (with feigned enthusiasm): "That is an ex 
 cellent sign of our fair progress, for does not Dryden tell 
 us that pity melts the mind to love?" 
 
 Dockery: "He told a lie if he referred to me." 
 
 Gansett: "My dear sir, we do not know but the entire 
 poem of 'Alexander's Feast' was written for you; and, 
 presuming so, it is our duty to protect the memory of 
 the great poet against calumny." 
 
 Dockery: "Oh, you be blamed! Gansett, you needn't 
 think that you can make fun of me." 
 
 Miss Pauline (with a sigh): "I fear that we cannot 
 make anything of you." 
 
 Dockery: "Oh, you be blamed, too!" 
 
 Gansett: "He has, himself, degenerated into foolish 
 rhyming." 
 
 Dockery: "If I have made a rhyme it was uninten 
 tional. Well, I don't think there's any use in further
 
 282 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 discussing this unpleasant affair. If I were a woman, 
 and was so anxious to get married as Miss Chackerin is, 
 I would surely drown myself." 
 
 Miss Pauline (bowing resignedly): "I cannot refute 
 the imputation that I am anxious to get married. The 
 fact that I am willing to take you proves it." 
 
 Dockery: "Gansett, I shall not forget you." 
 
 Gansett: Thank you." 
 
 Dockery (sarcastically): "Oh, you needn't feel under 
 any obligations. You told me that you would decide in 
 my favor." 
 
 Miss Pauline: "Have you had a previous consulta 
 tion with Mr. Gansett, and that, too, after promising that 
 you would not?" 
 
 Dockery (somewhat confused): "Well, I happened to 
 see him this morning, and " 
 
 Pauline: "What time?" 
 
 Gansett: "About five o'clock." 
 
 Pauline (to Dockery): "Yes, it was all a joke, and 
 you are a humorist. I should think that a humorist 
 would cut a melancholy figure in court." 
 
 Dockery: "Hang the court! I don't pay any atten 
 tion to it." 
 
 Pauline: "Then I am driven to act, to some extent, 
 upon Judge Lynch's plan." 
 
 Dockery: "How?" 
 
 Pauline: "You force me to take the law into my own 
 hands." 
 
 Dockery: "What can you do?" 
 
 Pauline (with dangerous composure): "I can shoot 
 a pistol with remarkable accuracy."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 283 
 
 Dockery (turning pale): "You certainly would not 
 commit an act of violence/' 
 
 Pauline: "Justice must come, regardless of price." 
 
 Dockery: "I'll go down and swear out a peace-war 
 rant." 
 
 Pauline: "You might do that if you succeed in reach 
 ing the magistrate's office." 
 
 Dockery began to tremble. He wiped his perspiring 
 face, and after a struggle with himself, said: "It has 
 been my rule in life to avoid violence, and I would rather 
 suffer than be the cause of any one committing a rash 
 act. I will marry you, Miss." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "One week from to-day/' 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, when?" 
 
 "Now." 
 
 "Gansett, you see she will not even give me time to 
 say my prayers. I have read of many an outrageous 
 affair, but this one stands without precedent. I am 
 resigned. I am ready." 
 
 She took his arm, smiled upon him, and, as she gently 
 drew him toward the door, said: "I know that this is 
 a little out of the regular order of things, dear; but do 
 we not see new sights and experience new feelings every 
 day? It is the nature of man to trample upon woman. 
 Some do so in a more gentle and refined way than others, 
 yet they all trample upon her. Mr. Gansett, will you and 
 Miss Hobdy come down and witness the ceremony?" 
 
 Len consented, but Ned excused herself. The bridal 
 party soon reached the magistrate's office, where Mr.
 
 284 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Mangus Dockery and Miss Pauline Chackerin were 
 married. 
 
 Mrs. Dockery continued to teach school after her mar 
 riage, and it was observed that the editor of the "Eagle 
 of Freedom" got around more among the farmers who 
 came in from the surrounding country. Marriage either 
 lowers or lifts a man, either stimulates his ambition or 
 saps his energy. 
 
 One day, when Dockery's honeymoon had reached its 
 first quarter, the bridegroom, meeting Gansett, said: 
 
 "Wait a minute, my dear boy, I want to speak to you/' 
 He was nervously energetic, and he had a sort of startled 
 air in suddenly looking about him. "Gansett, I have 
 often heard that everything turns out for the best, and I 
 now believe that the saying is true. Before my marriage 
 I cared but little for money. You know that I simply 
 threw it away; but now, sir, every nickel counts. My 
 wife is the most extraordinary woman I ever saw. You 
 might seine the entire country and you could not find 
 another one like her. Sense! Why, sir, that woman 
 is the concentration of wisdom. She actually knows 
 more than I do; does, hanged if she don't! She gave up 
 her school the other day, and now she proposes to devote 
 herself to our office. My office had a little mortgage 
 a cloud about the size of a man's hand hanging over it, 
 but she has lifted it. Tell you another thing that re 
 markable woman has done. She has rented a small farm, 
 near town, and has decided that I shall devote my spare 
 time to it. She is firm, firm as white oak; but then she 
 is so gentle that I would not for the world wound her 
 feelings by disobeying her."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 285 
 
 "I am glad that you and your wife are so well suited 
 to each other, Dockery." 
 
 "Suited! Why, Gansett, I never saw the like. I owe 
 you an everlasting debt of gratitude. Man often blindly 
 throws stumbling-blocks into the path of his own inter 
 est, and the reluctance which I exhibited with regard 
 to my marriage, I now see, was opposed to my future 
 usefulness. Yes, my dear friend, you assisted in making 
 a man of me. By the way, when are you and Miss Hobdy 
 to be married?" 
 
 "Very soon." 
 
 "Glad to hear it, my dear boy. Put it there," extend 
 ing his hand. "I tell you, sir, a man amounts to nothing 
 until he is married. Think of gentle arms that twine 
 about your neck, of soft and soothing words that fall 
 like balm upon your overworked brain. Here comes my 
 wife." 
 
 Mrs. Dockery, who was evidently in seach of her hus 
 band, approached. 
 
 "Mangus," she said, "what are you doing here?" 
 
 "Consulting my friend Gansett with regard to a busi 
 ness proposition." 
 
 "I don't know that you could consult a better man, 
 Mangus; but did I not tell you to go over to Parker's 
 and get the steers, and to haul some wood?" 
 
 "Yes, and I am going immediately. I know as well 
 as any one that printers' wood should be hauled up dur 
 ing warm weather. It is on the same principle of that 
 wise adage, 'In time of peace prepare for war.' I think, 
 though, my dear, that Parker is using his steers to-day." 
 
 "How do you know?"
 
 286 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Oh, well, he told me some time ago that he always 
 used them on "Wednesdays." 
 
 "Yes, but this is Thursday." 
 
 "That's a fact. Well, I'll go over at once. Gansett, 
 let me see you a moment," drawing Len aside. "Say, 
 I wish you would tell her that there is plenty of time to 
 get in the wood, and that I ought to be hustling for sub 
 scribers among the country people." 
 
 "I don't believe," Len smilingly replied, "that it 
 would be safe to interfere with her plans." 
 
 "Why, my dear friend, she is the gentlest creature in- 
 the world. She is afraid that I'll have to go out in the 
 cold next winter and chop wood. I tell you- that she is 
 the most considerate creature in the world. The fact is, 
 she is too careful of me." 
 
 "Mangus!" 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 "Are you going after the steers?" 
 
 "Yes, in a minute." 
 
 "Well, go on, then." 
 
 Dockery imploringly gripped Len's arm, gave him an 
 appealing look, and slowly sauntered away, not unlike a 
 "hang-back" boy forced to execute a task. He looked 
 back to see if Len were talking to Mrs. Dockery, then, 
 without increasing his gait, disappeared behind a stable. 
 
 Mrs. Dockery, smiling blandly, turned to Len and 
 said: "Woman has gained one victory. Tell me, Mr. 
 Gansett, don't you think that I am the most peculiar 
 woman you ever saw?" 
 
 "You are certainly remarkable." 
 
 "I determined, long ago, not to be one of the hum-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 287 
 
 drum sort. With all of my seeming imperiousness, I 
 like Dockery. He amuses me, and I don't see how I 
 ever got along without him. I do not intend to hen- 
 peck him, but he must understand that we shall make a 
 living'. Isn't that Mr. jCollins coming?" 
 
 "Yes, he has been to the post-office." 
 
 Among the letters which the printer handed Len was 
 one bearing a foreign postmark. It was from Colonel 
 Bently.
 
 288 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The letter, dated at London, ran as follows: 
 
 MY DEAK LEN Before coming here, I visited Devon 
 shire, where my ancestors were born. I cannot convey to 
 you even a suggestion of the strength of my emotions as I 
 stood on that hallowed ground. 
 
 Please do not forget to visit my house, and to take an oc 
 casional ride out to Oak Hill. I would write you a long 
 letter, telling you all about my trip, but I am too tired; 
 besides, I have not recovered from the effect of that rever 
 ential rush of memory which a visit to this country must 
 inevitably bring upon the man who, born here, has long 
 been removed from the scenes of his infancy. 
 
 "I can truthfully say/' said Len, when he had shown 
 the letter to Ned, "that I have not neglected my duty 
 so far as his house is concerned." 
 
 "Yes; but you haven't been out to Oak Hill but once." 
 
 "That's a fact; I must go again. I think to-morrow 
 will be a good time. "We are pretty well along with the 
 paper, are we not?" 
 
 "Yes, it is nearly up." 
 
 "Suppose you go with me. "We can go out early at 
 morning and start back in the afternoon, immediately 
 after the train comes." 
 
 "Of course I would like to go anywhere with you." 
 
 "Yes, because it is your nature to inspire happiness, 
 as it is the nature of the sun to scatter bright beams." 
 
 "If it were not so easy for you to pay graceful compli-
 
 LEN 6ANSETT. 289 
 
 xnents, Len, I would tell you not to put yourself to any 
 trouble on my account." 
 
 "It is always easy to speak the truth, little girl." 
 
 "No, the truth is often hard to tell. It is hard to 
 handle because it is so strange." 
 
 "You aptly take possession of an old adage and make 
 its heart circulate the life-blood of your own illustration. 
 Will you come over to our house early to-morrow morn 
 ing, or shall I call for you?" 
 
 "I will come to your house." 
 
 Ned came at the appaointed time. What a joyous 
 ride it was! There were no other passengers. Len had 
 never before seen Ned so frolicsome. She bounded from 
 from one seat to another, happy in the exuberance of 
 her own blithe nature, and happy in the thought that 
 her liveliness pleased Len. She seemed to give up her 
 soul to the occasion; she was at once a quick-witted 
 woman and a delightful child. Every one who has 
 travelled through this part of Arkansas is willing to 
 swear unless ladies who never swear except in cases of 
 breach of promise that the rivers, of which there are 
 many, exceed, in beauty of margin and clearness of water, 
 any rivers that have worn their channels in the green 
 footstool of the great Master of life. At a distance they 
 seem to be strips of pure sky, imbedded in a setting of 
 gray, and when approached you think that the fountains 
 of the gods are overflowed, and that one of their streams 
 is sweeping past you. 
 
 "What makes you so thoughtful?" Ned asked when
 
 290 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 the stage-coach had descended a gentle slope into a 
 stream. 
 
 "Am I silent?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then it must be that the beauty, the grandeur 
 through which we are passing combine to deprive me 
 of the power of speech. As I look upon this scene/' 
 waving his hand, "I think that I have never before been 
 so close to nature. It makes me realize my nothingness. 
 "Wait a minute, driver. Don't drive out until I tell you."' 
 He opened the door of the coach and stood with one 
 foot on the wheel. 
 
 "Come on/' said the girl. "You are so much in love 
 with nature that I am jealous of her. You must know 
 that I am a woman, and that everything that draws your 
 attention from me is my rival." 
 
 "Nature is not your rival, sweet girl, for nature is 
 the stalk, and you are the bloom." 
 
 "Don't talk so loud. The driver might hear you." 
 
 "He wouldn't know what we are talking about if he 
 did." 
 
 "Don't you fool yourself/' said the driver, gathering 
 up his reins. "I know all the fishin'-holes along this 
 creek. Know where Atkinson put out his trout-line. 
 Look out, thar! Get ep!" 
 
 A hurried cloud came, a cloud which follows a water 
 course and leaves the upland dry, and rain began to fall. 
 
 "This only adds comfort to beauty," said Len, "for it 
 brings to us a thought of our own snugness. We never 
 know what comfort is until some outside agency im-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 291 
 
 presses us. I don't suppose, however, that the driver is 
 of my opinion." 
 
 Just then the stage-coach stopped under the spreading 
 branches of a tree. The driver, descended from his 
 lofty perch, placed his back against a tree, popped Bis 
 whip, and said: 
 
 "I've driv stages a good deal in my time, but this here 
 is the wust country I ever driv over. Thar ain't nothin' 
 along the line ter int'rest a feller. Wall/' taking his 
 hat by the brim and shaking it, "reckon the shower is 
 about over." 
 
 The tourists, after arriving at Oak Hill, went to a hotel 
 "to get dinner. The sign, held up by two saplings, pro 
 claimed the fact that the place was the New York Hotel. 
 The proprietor, about whom everything seemed to be 
 yellow, had a cough, which he said was caused by the 
 inactivity of his liver. He had approached so near the 
 grave that the yellow clay was on his feet, yet his anxiety 
 concerning the few dimes which occasional guests drop 
 ped into his yellow hand was so strong that it often 
 seized him and fiercely shook him. His wife had 
 acquired much flesh, and had a very handy way of box 
 ing 1 the children, of whom there were seven, from one 
 side of the room to the other. When she boxed a boy 
 it seemed that, recognizing the fact that she had boxed 
 him in the wrong direction, she would immediately box 
 him back again. Her life seemed to be largely devoted 
 to the correction of such errors. 
 
 "Jest make yourselves at home," said the landlord, 
 addressing Len and Ned. "My name is Miller, yes, and 
 I come from West Tennysy. Yes, I've been here five
 
 292 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 month. Yes, I come here for my health. My liver ain't 
 right. Jest set down till I bring some fresh water. Yes, 
 we've got putty good water, but it don't appear to do my 
 liver no good. Martha," speaking to his wife, "don't 
 you see Virginia foolin' with the lady's hat?'* 
 
 Mrs. Miller promptly arose, boxed Virginia in the 
 wrong direction, then boxed her back again. "Now, 
 1'arn to keep your ban's off'm things. Don't you blub 
 ber an' cry 'round here. Eli," turning to her husband, 
 "when air yer goin' ter git that fresh water?" 
 
 "Eight now, yes." He soon returned with a bucket of 
 water which he placed on the shelf outside the door. 
 "Help yourselves," said he. "Good water, and I did 
 think that it would help me, but it hain't. My liver 
 ain't right. How long mout you be goin' to stay with 
 us?" 
 
 "Until after dinner. We are going back soon after 
 the train comes," Len replied. 
 
 "On a sort of a bridal tower, I reckon." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Didn't know but you had just got married an' come 
 out to look at the cars. Where do you live?" 
 
 "Dogwood." 
 
 "Way out thar? W'y that's mighty nigh outen the 
 world. Yes, what business are you in?" 
 
 "I publish the Ticket.' " 
 
 "Well, I've seed a copy or two. What air you holdin' 
 it at?" 
 
 "Two dollars per year." 
 
 "I would sign fur it, but times air too hard. I have 
 a pretty tough time, specially as my liver ain't right.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 293 
 
 Martha, you'd better see about dinner fur it'll soon be 
 train-time." 
 
 On the return there were several passengers, greatly 
 to the disappointment of Len and Ned, who had hoped 
 that no one would disturb them in their enjoyment of 
 the beautiful rivers and grand scenery. One of the pas 
 sengers, an elderly man, who travelled for a well-known 
 whiskey-house, and who, of course, did a good business 
 all over Arkansas, had come down from Missouri, where, 
 using his words, a train had just been stopped, and the 
 passengers "held up" by robbers. 
 
 "Were you on the train ?" one of the passengers asked. 
 
 "Yes; and I just had time to shove my watch into my 
 boot-leg. They got my pocket-book and pistol." 
 
 "Why didn't you shoot them?" 
 
 "I didn't have any business with them. Strangers 
 to me, as the fellow said. Wonder what we're stopping 
 here for? Say, driver, why don't you go ahead?" 
 
 "I've lost the king-bolt." 
 
 "You ought not to lose king-bolts in this republican 
 country." 
 
 "Not republican," the driver replied, looking around. 
 "Goes democratic every time." 
 
 "That's all right. Say, can't you dispense with royalty 
 and go ahead? I've got business to attend to." 
 
 "Kain't move a peg till I get that king-bolt, or one 
 like it. Thar's a blacksmith shop about a mile from 
 here, an' you'll hafter wait till I ken go thar an' have 
 a bolt made. Mighty sorry,' but it's as hard on me as it 
 is on any o' the rest o' yer. Here's a nice place for a
 
 294 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 picnic, an' yer'd better commence ter make yerselves at 
 home. What time have yer got, cap'n?" 
 
 The whiskey-drummer took out his watch, held it in 
 the palm of his hand, glanced at it, closed it with a snap, 
 returned it to its place, looked about him, and then 
 said, "Three fifteen." 
 
 The driver hurried away, and the passengers proceeded 
 to make the best of their situation. They sat under the 
 trees, listening to the whiskey-man, whose stories were 
 much older than his liquors, but whose stock on hand 
 seemed to be inexhaustible. He even went so far as to 
 repeat jokes which he had heard at minstrel shows, 
 actually said that he had two birds, one named Wheeler 
 and the other Wilson, because neither one of them was 
 a singer. This atrocity merited the severest punish 
 ment. One man, who looked like a preacher by the ex 
 pression of his countenance, but like a sinner by the ex 
 pression of his mouth, sighed wearily, and said: 
 
 "For the Lord's sake, Parker, let up! You are enough 
 to give a man the jim-jams." 
 
 Len and Ned strolled through the woods. To them 
 the delay was not tiresome, for it liberated them from a 
 company in which they took no interest. It must have 
 been at least five o'clock when the driver blew his horn 
 to summon his scattered passengers. 
 
 "King-bolt's all right, eh?" said the whiskey-man, as 
 he got into the coach. 
 
 "Reckon it'll stay with us a while," the driver replied, 
 as he shut the door. 
 
 The lengthening shadows, creeping down into ihe ra 
 vines lent a gloomy grandeur to the rocks, and the
 
 LEN QANSETT. 295 
 
 streams seemed to run with more noise now that the 
 night drew near. 
 
 "This country may do for the long-haired and wild- 
 eyed poet/' said the drummer, "but it won't do for your 
 Uncle Fuller," meaning himself. "Your Uncle Fuller 
 can put up with a good deal, but his endurance has its 
 boundary lines. Suppose those horses were to get scared 
 and run off down there. It would give your Uncle Ful 
 ler as much as he could do to take care of the ladies. 
 You live out here somewhere, eh?" addressing Len. 
 
 "Yes, at Dogwood." 
 
 "Dogwood, that's a curious name for a town. By the 
 way, they call a tree dogwood, because it has so much 
 bark, don't they? Ha, haw, haw! By George! that's 
 good, eh, Elliot?" 
 
 The person addressed began to snore as though the 
 atrocious pun had put him to sleep. 
 
 "Oh, by the way," said the drummer, reaching over 
 and placing his hand on Len's shoulder, "you publish a 
 paper, I believe." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am glad I met you. I have seen a lot of stuff 
 copied from your paper, and I want to tell you that 
 you are welcome to any of my gags. In St. Louis the 
 newspaper men follow me around and take down what I 
 say; don't they, Elliot?" 
 
 "I have heard you say so," Elliot replied. 
 
 "Oh, well, you know it's a fact. By George! it's as 
 dark out there as an umbrella full of black cats in Egypt. 
 What are you stopping for? Lost another member of 
 the royal family?"
 
 296 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 Both doors of the stage-coach were violently thrown 
 open. 
 
 "Throw up your hands!" a deep voice demanded, and 
 then a blinding flash from a dark lantern fell upon the 
 passengers. The women shrieked, and for a moment 
 there was such commotion that business was much 
 retarded. Parker, the man of "gags," tried to crouch, 
 down under a shawl which some one had dropped. 
 
 "Stop howlin' an' come to bus'ness," said the man 
 who had the dark lantern. "No use 'n tryin' ter whup 
 the devil round the stump. What air you doin' down 
 thar?" pulling the shawl off and revealing the cramped 
 form of Mr. Parker. "Come, shell out!" 
 
 "I have nothing to shell/' Len good-humoredly re 
 plied. 
 
 "Git out, all of you! This is too slow a way. Don't 
 be frightened. We ain't goin' to hurt nobody." 
 
 The passengers, having recovered their self -possession, 
 got out, and, as ordered, held up their hands. 
 
 "You are not a big prize; still, you are worth some 
 thing these close-fisted times," the leading robber re 
 marked as he relieved Len of three dollars in silver. 
 "No watch, eh? Here's one," proceeding to relieve the 
 whiskey-drummer of his timepiece. "You cheated me 
 out of it the other night. Met you on a train in Mis 
 souri, you know." 
 
 Ned stood near Len, with one hand on his shoulder. 
 One of the robbers came along, looked at her and tap 
 ped her under the chin, and, with a blow as quick as a 
 flash of powder, Len knocked him down. 
 
 "What the devil air you doin'!" exclaimed the leader,
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 297 
 
 turning upon Len. "Another caper like that, and you'll 
 regret it ef you can." 
 
 "I don't object to givin' up what money I have," Len 
 quietly replied; "but neither you nor your ruffians must 
 take liberties with a lady whose protector I am proud 
 to be." 
 
 "That's all right. Get back in the box. "Wish you had 
 as much money as you have grit. Bill, got the express 
 package all right ? Sorry we had to knock the driver off 
 his seat. See if he's hurt much." 
 
 Some time elapsed before the coach started. The 
 driver had been violently knocked from his box. Parker 
 took out a sample bottle of his goods, induced the driver 
 to drink, not a difficult task, however, and succeeded 
 in so far restoring him that he was soon afterward able 
 to gather up his lines and resume the journey. 
 
 "Parker," said Elliot, "will you please tell us what 
 time it is?" 
 
 "Never mind," Parker replied; "I'll get that watch 
 again, see if I don't." 
 
 "How will you get it?" 
 
 "I don't know exactly, but I'll get it again. I think 
 I know that robber. He's a St. Louis pawn-broker. 
 Mind what I tell you. Well, as the fellow said when he 
 had nothing more to lose, we're safe now. How far are 
 we from Catnip, Mr. Editor?" 
 
 "Catnip?" 
 
 "Yes, the place where oh, beg your pardon, I mean 
 Dogwood." 
 
 "We are now entering the suburbs." 
 
 "Glad."
 
 298 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 After nearly an hour had passed Parker said, 
 "Thought we were entering the suburbs of that fleeting 
 village?" 
 
 "We are." 
 
 "Well, how far do the suburbs extend?" 
 
 "All over the country." 
 
 "Sorry." 
 
 Dogwood was thrown into a thrilling state of excite 
 ment immediately after the arrival of the stage. The 
 sheriff summoned a posse and started in search of the 
 robbers, a useless exercise of horse-flesh. Justice, so 
 long delayed, was slowly approaching, but not through 
 the agency of the officers of the law.
 
 LEN QMSETT. 299 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE sheriff and his posse returned, the usual reward 
 was offered, and then there came that quiet, the pro- 
 foundest of all quiet, the quiet which follows an excite 
 ment in a cross-roads village. 
 
 "I don't feel very well to-day, and I have decided to 
 give myself an extra allowance of exercise," Len re 
 marked one morning, when, arriving at the office, he 
 glanced at a distasteful task. "I shall probably be away 
 all day, Ned, so I leave the office in your charge. If the 
 fighting man from the head-waters should come in, tell 
 . him that Collins has agreed to attend to him/' 
 
 "Where are you going?" the girl asked. 
 
 "I am going to stroll, it makes no difference in which 
 direction. I feel that my future usefulness depends up 
 on my going into the woods to-day." 
 
 Len wandered away, caring but little whither he 
 went. Late in the afternoon, when he thought of 
 returning, he was astonished upon realization that he 
 had lost all idea of direction. "This is a pretty come 
 off," he mused. "Can't take a walk without getting 
 lost." He came upon a brook which he thought was 
 one along whose banks he had walked an hour before; 
 but, after pursuing it some time, he found that he was 
 wrong. He sat down to rest, and, wearied with much 
 exertion, dropped off to sleep. When he awoke the sun 
 was setting. "This is getting to be serious," he said, as 
 he resumed his devious journey. "If I don't come on
 
 300 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 time grandpa will alarm the neighborhood. Helloa! 
 yonder is a road. I know where I am now/' he gladly 
 exclaimed. "This is the Oak Hill road, but I am a long 
 ways from home." 
 
 He walked along briskly. Evening insects began their ^ 
 grating songs, and a night-hawk, emancipated from the 
 glaring eye of day, alighted on the dead snag of a tree 
 and screamed in revenge. 
 
 "Helloa, what's this?" he said, stopping and taking up 
 a piece of rope about fifteen feet in length. "Some man 
 lost this off his hay-wagon," he added, noticing wisps of 
 hay hanging on the branches above him, "and by this 
 time is arraigning his ill-luck before a blue bar of pro 
 fanity. I'll take it along. Can't afford to lose such an 
 opportunity of proving to grandpa that I have an eye for 
 the useful in life." 
 
 He quickened his pace as the darkness deepened. 
 Sometimes the road wound among thick undergrowth, 
 into those damp and gloomy places which impress the 
 strongest heart with a sense of dread; then it seemed 
 to crawl around a steep hillside, just able to find room 
 to stretch itself. Just as Len reached a "cut," where 
 one side of the road was bordered by high and detached 
 rocks, he heard the sound of horses' hoofs, rattling along 
 the flinty pass a short distance ahead of him. He stopped 
 involuntarily and listened. The horses were approaching 
 him. Moved by a sudden impulse an impulse which he 
 did not understand, but with which he did not stop to 
 argue he climbed up a short distance and stood behind 
 a large rock that had rolled down from a cliff above. 
 Scarcelv had he taken his hidden stand when two horse-
 
 LEN GANSETT. 301 
 
 mea dashed around a bend in the road and stopped 
 opposite him. 
 
 "Say," said one of the men, "I'll remain here until 
 you ride out and meet the boys. Tell them three is no 
 particular danger now, and that we will go back to 
 Missouri to-morrow. Get back as soon as you can, for 
 we have business before us." 
 
 These words were spoken in a low tone, but Len's 
 eager ear caught every one of them. One of the men 
 rode on as directed, the other remained in the road only 
 a few feet from Len. "I think that my cow-boy exper 
 ience will now serve me a good turn," Gansett mused, 
 and instantly his fingers began to make a lariat of the 
 rope. He was not in the least excited; his only feeling 
 was of quiet exultation. "I can't miss him," he thought, 
 "and if I succeed in getting the rope well down over his 
 arms his weapons will be of no use to him." 
 
 "Whoa!" said the man, speaking to his horse. The 
 animal, in reaching after the leaves of the vines grow 
 ing in the scanty soil, had moved nearer the rock behind 
 which Gansett was standing. "Whoa, I tell you!" 
 
 Len stood ready, but waited. He could plainly see 
 the outlines of the horseman, but fancied that one of 
 his hands was raised. Yes, it was. He had taken- off 
 his hat, and was passing one hand over his head. 
 
 Len noiselessly moved to one side, to give his arms 
 more play, and, with a skill which a professional cattle 
 man might hav admired, threw the rope. Then, with 
 his entire weight thrown against the rope, he sprang 
 from behind the rock. The horse, jumped; the man, 
 uttering a loud cry, fell to the ground. The daring cap-
 
 302 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 ture was effected in a moment. Len, without relaxing 
 the rope, but following it hand over hand, soon reached 
 his prisoner. The man did not stir after striking the 
 ground. He was stunned, perhaps killed; but Gansett, 
 determined to take no chances, wound the rope about 
 the man, turned him over on his breast and tied his 
 hands. His next move was an attempt to secure the 
 horse, but the animal galloped away. Knowing that 
 the riderless horse, should he be discovered by any of the 
 gang, would spread alarm, Gansett dragged the insensi 
 ble man down into the ravine. Then, straightening 
 him out, he took two pistols from the outlaw's belt and 
 laid them on the ground. The man groaned. 
 
 "You are coming around all right," said Len. "Who 
 are you, anyway?" 
 
 No reply. 
 
 "If I only had a match I'd study your features awhile. 
 Probably you've got one. Let me see. Yes, you are 
 well provided." 
 
 Just as he was about to strike a match he heard the 
 sound of hoofs, and, catching up the two pistols, he 
 hurried back to the road and secreted himself. Two 
 men galloped past. Len levelled one of the pistols and 
 fired. The gallop was quickened into a wild dash, and 
 then all was still. 
 
 "I don't think it is safe to strike matches in this 
 neighborhood at present," he mused. "I think I'd bet 
 ter go back to my prisoner and wait a while." 
 
 When he returned he found that the outlaw had not 
 changed his position, but that he exhibited signs of life 
 by breathing heavily.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 303 
 
 "Who are you?" Len again asked. 
 
 No reply. 
 
 Len sat down with his back against a tree and waited, 
 but his anxiety to see the man's face became so strong 
 that he became restless and impatient. 
 
 "I'll try one match, anyway." 
 
 He approached the prisoner, who lay on his back, and 
 struck a match, but it fell from his trembling hand. 
 He tried to calm himself, but could not. He thought 
 of the foolishness of becoming excited after the dan 
 gerous work had been accomplished, but to no purpose. 
 He struck another match. The man mumbled some 
 thing, but Len paid no attention to him. The match 
 blazed. Gansett held it near the man's face. 
 
 "Great God!" exclaimed the young man, dropping 
 the match and springing to his feet. "Great God, it is 
 Colonel Bently!" 
 
 Len, placing his hand against a tree, steadied himself 
 for a moment, then slowly sank down, and buried his 
 face in his hands. He broke out in a cold prespiration, 
 and his frame shook as though seized with ague. The 
 night wore away, still the silence was unbroken save by 
 the night-hawk, which, realizing the near approach of 
 the eye of day, screamed in revenge. 
 
 "Gansett," said the colonel, "untie me." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Gansett, I appeal to your sense of gratitude, to your 
 sympathy, to your humanity." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Kemember that you owe your happiness to me. I
 
 304 LEN 
 
 placed you in your present position, and I kept Honey- 
 cut from forcibly marrying Miss Hobdy." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Is it possible, Len, that I appeal to you in vain?" 
 
 "Yes. The Colonel Bently whom I knew, admired, 
 loved, is in England. You are an outlaw, and perhaps 
 a murderer." 
 
 "I swear that I am not." 
 
 "The devil swore that he was holy." 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed of your inhumanity your 
 cowardice. You lurk in the woods like a savage, and 
 lasso a man like a sneak." 
 
 "And you ride in the woods like a thief, and rob 
 people like a ruffian." 
 
 "I'll pay you for this. Come, Len, don't harden your 
 heart against me. No matter how much of an outlaw I 
 am, I have never done aught against you." 
 
 "Yes, you have," Len exclaimed, violently striking 
 his breast. "You have injured me more than you have 
 injured all your victims combined. ' You have shaken 
 my faith in man. I have passed through many trials, 
 but until I held a match over your face my faith in 
 man remained unshaken. The robber and the assassin, 
 the thief and the liar, all of whom I have seen, only 
 strengthen my belief that there did exist a noblest work 
 of God, but you you have stabbed that ennobling 
 faith." 
 
 "Gansett, you are too hard on me; so hard that you 
 forget your obligations. Eemember that the printing- 
 office " 
 
 "I don't owe you a cent. I have paid the last note."
 
 LEN OANSETT. 305 
 
 "Very true, but the fact that I did not push you 
 should inspire gratitude. Len, I cannot help but like 
 you, cannot help admiring your manliness, but there is 
 an honor, a manliness, that arises above all law. I now 
 appeal to that honor and manliness and in the name 
 of human friendship I ask you to untie me. I will leave 
 this neighborhood, never to return. News shall come, 
 stating that I died in England, and there shall also come 
 a will bequeathing my farm and stage line to you. For 
 God's sake, Len, do not turn away from me! Honey cut 
 shall disappear, never to return, and you and the woman 
 whom you love can live in " 
 
 "By the way, colonel/' Len interposed, "did you find 
 much change in your old home? I fear that my letter 
 will not reach you. Pity, too, for I told how much we 
 all missed you, and how warm my friendship was. I 
 told you many things that I could not tell during a con 
 versation. The sun is fairly up. Will you walk to Dog 
 wood with me, or shall I leave you here until I get a 
 wagon?" 
 
 "I'll remain here/' 
 
 "All right. Permit me to tie you more securely, anfl 
 to gag you, lest you injure yourself by shouting." 
 
 "You are heartless, Gansett." 
 
 "Yes, quite so." 
 
 "I'll walk with you/' 
 
 "Then I will untie your legs, but let your arms 
 remain as they are." 
 
 "D d wretch!" the colonel muttered. 
 
 "Yes, decidedly so. Ah, a happy thought! I'll drive
 
 306 LEN 
 
 you as I would a calf, but if you become boisterous I'll 
 shoot you as I would a dog." 
 
 When they reached Dogwood the people became much 
 excited; but, to Len's surprise, Bently attempted no de 
 fence of himself. He was taken to jail and locked up, 
 and, lest a rescue might be attempted, a strong guard 
 was stationed around the house. Just as Len and the 
 sheriff were turning away from the jail a man rode up 
 and said, "Gentlemen, I've got a piece uv news. Las' 
 night as Honeycut wuz ridin' erlong over here nigh Tar- 
 rapin branch somebody shot him. He galloped away, 
 an' didn't know he wuz hurt bad till he reached home. 
 Ball sorter went in behind his shoulder, an' 'peered ter 
 range round. Ther doctor don't think he'll live." 
 
 The sheriff, to whom Len had told his story, said, 
 "Mr. Gansett, that powder wasn't wasted." 
 
 "No, I think not. Do you think that there is likely 
 to be an attempt to liberate Bently?" 
 
 "Not by the citizens, for you see they air as hot as the 
 devil ag'in him, but some o' the gang mout dash in. 
 You've done noble work, and the reward " 
 
 "I wouldn't touch a cent of it for the world." 
 
 <f Wall, but it has to go to somebody. Me and the 
 boys rid mighty hard " 
 
 "You and the boys, then, may have the reward." 
 
 "Now you're talkin'. Look at the folks, will you? 
 Oh, but they've got a sensation now that'll last 'em for 
 a day or two. Helloa, Mr. Collins!" addressing the 
 printer, who came forward. "We've got him, after all." 
 
 "So I hear. Mr. Gansett, if you want to say anything
 
 LEN GANSETT. 307 
 
 about it in our next issue it is time to begin, specially 
 as we are about out of copy/' 
 
 "Collins, I don't know how to write it up. You do 
 it. Say that he was captured by a man connected with 
 the Ticket/ but don't give any of the particulars." 
 
 "Let me interview the colonel?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gansett," said the sheriff, "let us interview 
 the colonel, and pVaps he'll tell how hard he had to 
 ride to keep out of our way t'other night." 
 
 "Do as you think best, Collins," Len replied. "Has 
 Miss Hobdy come yet?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," she's in the office. She's heard all about 
 it." 
 
 Len hurried to the office. When he entered ISTed 
 burst into tears and threw her arms around his neck. 
 "There, little girl, don't cry. It's all over." 
 
 "But I am not a little girl if I can reach up this way," 
 pulling his head down and kissing him. "Sit down and 
 tell me all about it." 
 
 He related his story. Her eyes sparkled and her 
 breathing grew faster. "You are the bravest and smart 
 est man in the world," she said when he had concluded. 
 "By the way, I had to tell a little story for you. I told 
 your grandpa that you might not be home until late, 
 and then, I don't know why, I said you would probably 
 be away all night." 
 
 News spreads rapidly in the country. Men who are 
 the slowest on the farm are sometimes the fastest on the 
 road. Old Bob and his wife met Len at the gate. They 
 were mucl- excited, particularly Mrs. Gansett, who loudly 
 thanked the Lord that her grandson was safe. At the
 
 308 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 breakfast-table Len gave a detailed account of his ad 
 venture. 
 
 "Bob," said Mrs. Gansett, as she seized a peach-tree 
 branch and vigorously waved off the flies, "didn't I tell 
 you that the colonel wouldn't do? Hah, didn't I tell 
 you?" 
 
 "Well, now, Sarah, I don't 'zactly recollect whether " 
 "Yes, you do, an' you know it. Don't you know one 
 evenin' when Len went home with him, I said I didn't 
 like the idea? Yes, you do know it. I have allus had 
 my suspicions o' that man, an' I knowed jes' as well as 
 I ever knowed anythin' that he would come to some bad 
 eend. It's a mighty easy matter to fool yo' grandpa, 
 Len, but it's hard to fool me. I knowed it knowed it 
 as well as anythin' that thar was suthin' wrong with that 
 man. I reckon fetch take the flies, they stick so; it 
 mus' sho'ly be goin' to rain the next time you'll all 
 pay attention to what I say."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 3Q9 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE excitement throughout the neighborhood became 
 more and more intense. The people, realizing that their 
 social leader had fallen, bitterly meditating the length 
 of time they had been duped by him, surrendered them 
 selves to that condition of fury which is the sprouting- 
 ground, the plantbed, of mob violence; but the good 
 sense of a few old men, and notably the good sense of 
 Bob Gansett, restrained a general demand for vengence. 
 The prosecuting attorney of the district soon arrived. 
 He called at the "Picket" office, and, during a conver 
 sation with Len, said: 
 
 "You have undoubtedly accomplished a good piece of 
 work, but you ran a great risk. In truth, you did not act 
 very wisely. Any number of honest men fox-hunters 
 ride through the woods at night, and while your step 
 ping behind the rock proves to be fortunate, yet you did 
 not hear the men say enough to convince you that they 
 were indeed robbers." 
 
 "That is a fact," Lqn replied. "I acknowledge that 
 I was rash." 
 
 "And again," continued the prosecuting attorney, 
 "when you went back to the road, upon hearing the 
 sound of hoofs you fired at two men, who might have 
 been a physician and some one who had been hurriedly 
 sent after him." 
 
 "Great Caesar, man!" Len exclaimed; don't make me 
 out to be a fool."
 
 310 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Of course not; but these facts will be far from com 
 forting when the counsel for the defence enlarges upon 
 them, especially so if the defendants invent a clever 
 story, which they will evidently do." 
 
 "A clever story amounts to but little in the face of a 
 fact. I have a letter from Bently, purporting to have 
 been written in England, and '' 
 
 "Yes," said the prosecuting attorney, nodding in 
 ironical approval; "but you must know that the colonel 
 could reach this neighborhood quite as soon as the let 
 ter." 
 
 "That's a fact, but I don't believe he has been to 
 England." 
 
 "Of course not; but don't you know that the letter is 
 against us, proving that the colonel was abroad when 
 a certain robbery was committed?" 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 "I suppose not. Now, Mr. Gansett, you'd better de 
 stroy that letter." 
 
 "No, I shall keep it." 
 
 "But I tell you that they will use it- against us." 
 
 "All right; let them use it." 
 
 "I say no." 
 
 "I say yes, for I do not intend to throw a single ob 
 stacle in the colonel's way." 
 
 "Mr. Gansett, you are certainly a very hot-headed 
 and impulsive young man." 
 
 "Well, I can't help it." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can help it. Have you seen the fellow 
 you shot?"
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 3} i 
 
 "No, not since he passed me like the flying shadow 
 of a wolf." 
 
 "Sentiment," said the prosecuting attorney, hiting 
 off a chew of tohacco. "Sentiment and law, though, are 
 like castor-oil and rose-water, won't mix. Let us go 
 over and see what's his name?" 
 
 "Who, Honeycut?" 
 
 "Yes, and take a justice of the peace with us to attest 
 his confession." 
 
 "How do you know he will confess?" 
 
 "Oh, he must; that's all." 
 
 Accompanied by a magistrate, they went to Honey- 
 cut's house, a small cabin situated on a rugged hillside 
 about a mile from Bently's house. The wounded man, 
 cared for by the family who lived in the house, did not 
 appear to be in immediate danger; but the prosecuting 
 attorney, who took care not to reveal his connection 
 with the law, but who slyly intimated that he was a 
 skilled surgeon from a distant town, soon convinced 
 Honeycut that his case was hopeless. 
 
 "Mr. Gulp," said Len, addressing the lawyer, "let me 
 see you outside a moment." When Gulp had followed 
 him, Gansett added, "I don't want you to take any ad 
 vantage of that fellow." 
 
 "Now, look here, my dear sir, for God's sake don't 
 make a fool of yourself! I tell you that sentiment and 
 law won't mix." 
 
 "It is not so much sentiment as it is justice that " 
 
 "Yes, I know all about that. Let me tell you some 
 thing. I strongly suspect that Mr. Honeycut murdered 
 a man in this county some years ago; in fact, he has
 
 312 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 muttered certain words that lead to this belief. Suppose 
 he gets well and is convicted of robbery? He will be 
 sent to the penitentiary for a few years, and " 
 
 "You are right," said Len. 
 
 "Of course I am. Just come in and keep quiet." 
 
 Honey cut became very restless. He was much fright 
 ened, and when Gulp took a small Bible from his pocket, 
 and began to read a passage luridly descriptive of hell, 
 the wretch groaned aloud. 
 
 "I am not a preacher," said Mr. Gulp, "but I have been 
 taught by good men that there is a way of avoiding this 
 place, no matter how dark a crime a man may have com 
 mitted. It is an awful thing, my dear Mr. Honeycut, to 
 be hurled into eternity without having prepared yourself. 
 Oh, if you desire to die with a dark stain on your mind, 
 all right," he added, as Honeycut turned his face away. 
 
 "'I don't wanter die thater way." 
 
 "It appears that you do." 
 
 "But I don't, I tell you." 
 
 "That may be, but you are going to put it off till it's 
 too late." 
 
 "No, I ain't nuther." 
 
 "Then why don't you tell me that you murdered a 
 man?" 
 
 "Who said I did?" 
 
 "Well, that's all right. Men sometimes talk in their 
 sleep." 
 
 "Yas, an' they sometimes tell lies in their sleep." 
 
 "But more often when they are awake," the lawyer 
 added. 
 
 "How long do you think I'll live?"
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 313 
 
 "Perhaps until this evening." 
 
 Honeycut groaned. "Look here/' said he, "er lawyer 
 that Colonel Bently sent over here told me not to say 
 nothin' ter nobody." 
 
 "Of course that lawyer is much more interested in his 
 fee than he is in your soul." 
 
 "I don't know erbout that. Gansett, what did you 
 come here fur? To see me die?" 
 
 "Not particularly." 
 
 "Yas, like hell yer didn't. See er man ridin' 'long 
 ther road at night an' shoot him fur nuthin'. Yer ought 
 ter be hung fur it." 
 
 "How do you know I shot you?" 
 
 "Never mind; I know all erbout it, but I won't say 
 nuthin'." 
 
 The lawyer, turning to the justice of the peace, said, 
 in an undertone, but loud enough for Honeycut to hear: 
 "Did that nigger say he'd have the grave ready in time?" 
 
 "Yes; he's at work on it now." 
 
 "Keckon, then, it will be ready." 
 
 "What did you say?" Honeycut asked. 
 
 "Nothing," the lawer replied. 
 
 "Yas, yer did," he moaned. "Said suthin' erbout er 
 grave." 
 
 "Well, to tell you the truth, your grave is being dug, 
 and by this time they are smoothing down your lowly 
 pillow. Ready to go, gentlemen?" 
 
 "Hold on," said Honeycut. His voice had become 
 weak and his breath was difficut. "I don't wanter die 
 thiser way."
 
 314 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Don't do it. Put your faith in the great Pleader for 
 man in the great Forgiver of sin." 
 
 "I did kill a man wunst." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "But I'm sorry fur it." 
 
 "What was his name?" 
 
 "Jim Buck. Him an' Hobdy had had some trouble, 
 an' he wanted me ter go in with him an' kill Hobdy. I 
 said I would, but airterwards backed out. Then he said 
 ef I didn't help him he'd norate it round that I got up 
 the scheme. This skeered me, an' I thought the bes* 
 thing I could do wuz ter kill Buck, so one day I followed 
 him an' killed him. I sarched his pockets arter he fell 
 an' found er note that Hobdy had writ him. I jes' could 
 spell it out, but I seed how 'portant a dockyment it wuz. 
 Pretty soon I seed Hobdy er-comin', an' I hid, an' then 
 come out on him when he stopped ter look *at Buck." 
 
 "What about your connection with the robberies that 
 have been committed in this State and Missouri?" 
 
 "I oughten ter say nothin' erbout that, fur it consarns 
 somebody else." 
 
 "Wall, I went in with ther colonel. He wuz sich a 
 good friend ter me that I told him that I killed Buck. 
 Then he had me. Ther stage-driver an* er feller named 
 Price wuz in ter it too." 
 
 The confession was written by the justice of the 
 peace who, strange to say, could write legibly and was 
 signed by Honeycut. 
 
 "Now we are all right," said the lawyer, as the party 
 set out for Dogwood. "The confession fixes everything. 
 Let us take a short cut if there is one, for I've got con-
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 315 
 
 siderable work to do to-day. Gansett, I have been 
 solicited to run for judge at the next election, and I'd 
 like your support. Those who know me best say that I 
 am well qualified for the place, and, to tell you the truth, 
 I believe that I am. I understand the law, and I think 
 that I know what justice is. Helloa, who is the gentle 
 man?" 
 
 "His name is Braley," Len replied. 
 
 "Hy, gentlemen," said Mr. Braley, approaching and 
 placing a tow sack on a log. The party stopped, and the 
 lawyer was introduced to the champion log-roller. 
 
 "What have you in your sack, Braley?" Len asked. 
 
 "Er middlin' uv meat, that I got over at Bradshaw's. 
 He'p'd him to fix up his gin t'other day, an' he told me 
 when I wanted anythin' ter let him know, an' this 
 mornin' wife she 'lowed that we'd better have er little 
 meat; so I went over and got some. Now ain't that awful 
 erbout the col'n? I didn't speck no better, nur hardly 
 ez good, uv Honeycut, but I wuz mighty s'pized erbout 
 the col'n. Wife she 'lowed that it wuz putty much ther 
 way with all ther men, an' when I told her that it wa'n't 
 ther way with me she 'lowed that I wan't ernuff ercount 
 ter rober man. Which way yer been?" 
 
 "'Been over to see Mr. Honeycut," the lawyer replied. 
 
 "Yas, ther son uv wall, I don't talk erbout no man 
 when he's down flat uv his back. Mr. Gansett, I've allus 
 sorter b'l'eved that he had suthin' ter do with whalin' 
 Mort Haney, an' I bet yer ef Mort had thought it ez 
 straung thar would er been some music in ther neighbor 
 hood. Wall, wall, Mr. Gansett, wusht I'd been with yer 
 ther night yer fotch 'em ter taw. Good-by, gentlemen,"
 
 316 LBN GANSETT. 
 
 he added, taking up his sack. "Reckon ther chillun's 
 haungry by this time, never seed chillun that hankered 
 so airter meat, an* I reckon I'd better be shovin'." 
 
 When they reached Dogwood the lawyer said: "Gran- 
 sett, I am going to see the sheriff and get him to have 
 Honeycut closely guarded. And, by the way, I am go 
 ing to call on the colonel. I don't suppose I can get him 
 to make a confession, but I can upset some of his plans." 
 
 About an hour afterward the sheriff called at the 
 "Picket" office, and informed Len that the colonel 
 wanted to see him. Len went immediately to the jail. 
 
 "Gansett," said the colonel, "sit down." His face was 
 haggard and his eyes were hollow, but his voice was 
 cheerful, nor had his manner lost any of its cordiality. 
 
 "How are you getting along, Len?" 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Have you relented toward me?" 
 
 "I was deeply wounded, but the wound is healing." 
 
 "Will it leave a scar?" 
 
 "One which time cannot efface." 
 
 "I know how you feel, and I do not blame you. Len, 
 there are some men that are made of a strong mixture 
 of good and bad. Within them there is a constant stru- 
 gle between the two elements. I am one of those men, 
 so moulded and so directed by the hand of fate. I will 
 tell you truthfully for the disposition to lie is not up 
 permost in my nature that I honor you, think more of 
 you than of any man I have ever met. I have robbed " 
 
 "Colonel," Len broke in, lifting his hands in implor- 
 ation, "I did not ask you for a confession. You know 
 how I have revered you, how I regarded you as my model
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 
 
 of manhood. Tell me nothing that reflects upon your 
 self. Let me look back at you let me forget that " 
 
 "I am a criminal?" 
 
 "Yes/' 
 
 "But you cannot forget it, my dear boy. I am now 
 engaged in writing a statement, which at the proper 
 time shall be placed into your hands. I shall not spare 
 myself/' 
 
 "If it be intended to sting me, to still lower you in 
 my mind, I will not read it/' 
 
 "You shall read it. You surely will not refuse me so 
 slight a request." 
 
 "Oh colonel, I now wish that I had released you!" 
 
 "No, it is better as it is. I could not have much 
 longer escaped justice, and it is better that a friend, 
 rather than an enemy, should lay the hand of retribution 
 upon me." 
 
 "I don't understand how a man so universally 
 esteemed, so noble in many respects, and so able intel 
 lectually, could resort to lawlessness." 
 
 "I do not understand either, Gansett. The adventure, 
 the excitement of robbery, was necessary to my life. I 
 am two men." 
 
 "I wish I had never known but one of you." 
 
 "And I wish there had been but one of me. So 
 Honey cut has made a confession?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am glad of it, for if ever a man deserved to be 
 hanged he is the man. There is one thing I can say: 
 Len, I have never shed human blood." 
 
 "I am glad to know that."
 
 318 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 "You mean that you are glad to hear it, even though 
 you cannot believe me." 
 
 "But I do believe you.'* 
 
 "Thank you, my dear boy! I am glad that you do not 
 think me the worst man in the world. When I go to 
 the penitentiary you must come down and see me. I 
 have, for many years, hoped that the time when I could 
 write a moral book for boys would come, and I think the 
 opportunity is near at hand." 
 
 "You may not be sent to the penitentiary/' 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear boy!" 
 
 "You may escape." 
 
 "Will you aid me?" 
 
 Len arose and walked about the room. "No," he 
 said, "I cannot aid you." 
 
 "You are right, but if you know of others aiding " 
 
 "Don't say another word. I must know nothing." 
 
 "I wish I had been born with a nature like yours." 
 
 "Perhaps you were born with a better nature than 
 mine." 
 
 "Xo, for when I was a child I caught many glimpses 
 of my future life. Sometimes I have thought that I was 
 insane; but then, when mounted on a swift horse, gallop 
 ing through the gloom of night, I have felt my spirit 
 bound with delight and have felt my mind growing 
 clearer and clearer as I sped along. Gansett, do not go 
 so soon." 
 
 Len had rapped on the bars of the door. "Yes, I must 
 go to the office."
 
 LEN GAN8ETT. 3ic 
 
 "I have a great favor to ask." 
 "Name it" 
 
 "For the Lord's sake, keep Dockery away from here." 
 "I'll do so. I'll speak to his wife, and she will settle 
 him."
 
 320 LEX OANSETT. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Two days later, and before Len had again called on 
 Bently, the paper which the colonel declared he was 
 preparing was placed on Len's desk. The contents were 
 as follows: 
 
 My DEAB LEN It is not my purpose to tire you with a 
 long account of myself, and, above all, it is not my inten 
 tion to degrade myself. I make this assertion at the outset, 
 lest you throw the manuscript aside. I was born near 
 Boston, Mass., in the year 1839. My father was a lawyer of 
 large practice, and was a stern, though just, man. My 
 mother was the soul of gentleness, and I used to think that 
 my father was not tender enough in addressing her, for his 
 words were often harsh. It was my mother's ambition that 
 I should enter the ministry; but my father, who could not 
 tolerate doctrines and creeds, not only discouraged the 
 idea, but swore that I should be a lawyer. When I was 
 about fifteen years old my only sister ran away and mar 
 ried a man whom my father disliked. Father swore that 
 she should never again enter his house. Several years 
 later, when sister's husband died, leaving her penniless, he 
 allowed her to come home, and, though she continued to 
 live with us, he never spoke to her again. I went into the 
 law office, and for a time tried to overcome my dislike of 
 the business; but what at first was distasteful, after a 
 while became positively loathing. I had been in the office 
 two years when my mother died. I never entered the office 
 again after her death, but ran away, and, after many hard 
 ships, secured a position on a weekly newspaper. My 
 father came to take me away. He seemed gentler than I 
 had ever known him to be, and while persuading me to 
 come home said, "Son, you need not study law unless you
 
 LEN GANSETT. 321 
 
 want to. How would you like a position in a bank?" I 
 replied that such a position would suit me. "I have already 
 secured one," said he, "and your success in life now de 
 pends upon your honesty and efficiency." The work in the 
 bank was congenial, and at the age of twenty-three I was 
 given the position of cashier. From the first I was sur 
 prised to see the affairs of the bank conducted in so loose a 
 manner, and noticed, with peculiar interest, that the books 
 were not overhauled. I possessed the confidence of every 
 man connected with the institution, and viewing this with 
 pride, and thirsting for more popularity, caused the per 
 nicious seeds of hypocrisy to be scattered within my breast. 
 I became an active church-member, and took great interest 
 in Sunday-schools. I knew that I was a hypocrite, and 
 knowing it caused me to hold myself above honest people, 
 whom I knew felt the love of Christ. All this time I was 
 gradually stealing I can think of no better term small 
 sums of money, and the fact that the irregularities were 
 not discovered gave me additional courage. Of course this 
 could not long continue. A man always increases, but 
 never decreases, his system of robbery, and at last I de 
 parted, taking nearly $100,000. My father made good the 
 shortage, so a newspaper informed me, and less than two 
 months later the old gentleman died, leaving no property. 
 After this I traveled under an assumed name, visiting 
 nearly all the noted cities of the world. I gradually lost 
 interest in what I saw, and decided to do something. The 
 opportunity was not long delayed. An Englishman, a 
 Frenchman, and myself betook ourselves to the Alps and 
 became robbers. After six months the enterprise proved 
 disastrous, especially so to my companions, who, while in 
 the discharge of their "duty," were shot and killed. I 
 escaped, and as the atmosphere of that country had become 
 rather oppressive, I went to South America, then to Texas, 
 and, finally, to the neighborhood of Abbott's Ford, Arkan 
 sas, where I resumed my real name, with the addition of
 
 322 LEN GANSEfT. 
 
 colonel, which military prefix, fn view of my Alpine experi 
 ence, I thought was due me. 
 
 I had but little money left after buying my farm and 
 stage-line. At first I did not intend to be aught but a good 
 citizen to live among the books of which I was fond; but 
 the spirit of adventure, that something which assists in 
 making two men of me, urged me to again become a rob 
 ber. At one time I thought that Dockery might be a valu 
 able man, and with an idea of converting him to my unholy 
 cause I assisted him with his newspaper; but I soon found 
 that he was weak and unstable, a dangerous man in whom 
 to confide. When I met you I was so struck with you that 
 I centred my hopes on you, but to save my life notwith 
 standing the fact that we became such fast friends I 
 could not broach the subject. I have made appointments 
 with you, having sworn to myself that I would unfold my 
 plans, but when the time came I could not speak. There 
 was something about you that sealed my lips. You doubt 
 less remember the time I told you of my suspicions with 
 regard to Honeycut. I wanted Honeycut to get into my 
 house and be captured or killed so that the excitement 
 would spur me up to the point which I had endeavored 
 to reach, but you frustrated the design by meeting the 
 fellow in the yard. I had an arrangement with him to slip 
 into my house about midnight. You suspected Honeycut 
 of complicity in the Mort Haney whipping affair. Your 
 suspicions were just. Honeycut and I whipped Mr. Haney 
 did it because he had become a little too free in express 
 ing himself. 
 
 In addition to my stage-line, and as an almost necessary 
 adjunct to my business, I owned a half interest in a St. 
 Louis pawn-shop. In this way watches and finger-rings 
 were rendered useful. This is the cause of my pretended 
 visit to England: I had begun to fear you. Sometimes 
 when you would look at me I could not help but think that 
 you could read me; so, to convince you that I was in a
 
 LEN G AN SETT. 323 
 
 foreign country at the time of a certain robbery, I left the 
 neighborhood. The letter which you received was written 
 in my house, dated in advance, sent to an acquaintance of 
 mine in London and re-mailed. 
 
 I have just heard that Price and the stage-driver have 
 been captured in Missouri, and as they are wanted in that 
 State the authorities here are not likely, for several years 
 at least, to have dealings with them. 
 
 Well, I don't know that I have anything else to say. I 
 have told you pretty much all about myself without going 
 into tiresome details. Sometimes I hardly know what to 
 think of myself, and after every long meditation I am 
 forced to the conclusion that I have been following a 
 course pointed out for me. I cannot shaiie off a Calvanistic 
 belief which has taken hold of me a belief which tells me 
 that the good and bad cannot be materially changed. Ras 
 cals, like poets, are born, and though bad blood runs in 
 families, yet a black sheep is often born in the whitest 
 flock. I hope that you will remember my good qualities, 
 and, with the gentle hand of kindness, cover up in your 
 memory my evil deeds. I know that I have greatly shocked 
 your belief in the honesty and uprightness of man, but the 
 shock though perhaps not so violent had to come sooner 
 or later. Honesty among men is much more rare than 
 virtue among women, and nine times out of ten the deepest 
 rascal is the most plausible talker; for, knowing that much 
 of his success depends upon his address, he cultivates the 
 faculty of convincing assertion. 
 
 If anything should occur to prevent me from making a 
 more formal disposition of the property which I call mine, 
 please show this paragraph, namely, that I hereby will all 
 my effects to the county, and that I direct, as nearly as 
 possible, the refunding of every cent I have taken from the 
 traveling public. There will, of course, be many fraudulent 
 claims; but in regard to such claims the best possible judg 
 ment, whatever that may be. must be exercised. 
 
 Yours, BENTLY.
 
 324 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 When Len had finished the manuscript he took it to 
 Ned, placed it upon her "case," and said: 
 "This is something that will interest you/' 
 "What beautiful writing! Oh," turning to the last 
 page, "it is from Colonel Bently!" 
 
 Len stood near her until she had finished reading; 
 then, as she rearranged the manuscript, he asked: 
 "What do you think of it?" 
 "I hardly know. What a strange man!" 
 "What do you think of his philosophy?" 
 "I do not know enough of the world to correctly esti 
 mate it. I hope, though, that it is not true. What do 
 you think of it?" 
 
 "I fear that much of it is true."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 325 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 HONEYCUT improved rapidly, so rapidly, in fact, 
 that he was soon removed to the jail. He and the 
 colonel were separated by iron bars so far apart that 
 Honeycut could thrust his head into Bently's apartment. 
 The wretched fellow spent most of his time sitting on 
 his straw bed, bemoaning and cursing his stupidity. 
 
 "W'y, damn my fool soul," he said; "I oughter had 
 better sense than ter turn myself wrong side out'ard 
 jist beca'se that feller wanter me ter. Wish I had him 
 by ther neck." 
 
 "He'll have you by the neck before long," the colonel 
 rejoined. 
 
 "Whut ther devil yer wanter talk thater way fur, 
 hah?" 
 
 "Merely to impress you " 
 
 "Impress ther devil!" 
 
 "That's what I'm trying to do." 
 
 "You air as bad as I am, ever' bit V grain." 
 
 "The judge and jury will settle that question." 
 
 "You know that yer got me inter ther robbin' bus'- 
 ness/ ' 
 
 "But you had committed murder before I ever saw 
 
 you." 
 
 "I killed er man, but I done it in self-defence. Never 
 mind, when I git outen here, I'll settle with Gansett. I'd 
 er done it long 'go, but you wouldn't let me. Say, now, 
 in earnest, do yer think they're goin' to hang me;"
 
 326 LEN OANSETT. 
 
 "I don't see why they shouldn't." 
 
 "Blamed ef yer soul wouldn't rattle in a mustard- 
 seed." 
 
 "And yours would find ample room to lie at full 
 length on the point of a cambric needle. I don't see 
 why the authorities wanted to afflict me with your pres 
 ence. I am bad enough, God knows, but I shudder 
 when I look at you." 
 
 "Who is that?" Honeycut exclaimed, as he heard the 
 front door grate on its hinges. "Blamed ef it ain't ole 
 Hobdy!" 
 
 Hobdy walked along the corridor until he was oppo 
 site Honeycut, then, taking hold of the bars, he looked 
 at Honeycut, and said: 
 
 "Ken I do any thin' fur yer? How would er fried 
 chicken strike yer? Must be putty hard on er wounded 
 man ter be shet up thiser way." 
 
 "I want you to go on erway from here, Hobdy, an' 
 leave me erlone; that's what I want," Honeycut ex 
 claimed. 
 
 "Now, here, I didn't come ter torment yer. No mat 
 ter how mean er man has been ter me, I allus feel sorry 
 fur him when he's in er bad fix." 
 
 "Wall, yer needn't be sorry fer me. You air a ole 
 coward, ur yer'd a-killed me long 'go," 
 
 "That's er bad way ter talk, Mr. Honeycut." 
 
 "I talk as I damn please." 
 
 "All right; I ain't ther man ter pester yer. W'y, thar's 
 ther col'n. How's yer health, col'n?" 
 
 "I am not feeling well, Mr. Hobdy. Am threatened 
 with fever, I think."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 327 
 
 "Hope not, an* mo'n that, I hope yerll come out all 
 right. Cou't meets termor' an' I hear 'em say they are 
 goin' ter take up Honeycut's case the fust one/' 
 
 "That's none uv your damned business," Honeycut 
 growled. 
 
 "Not in perticuler, that's er fack. Wall, col'n, I wush 
 yer mighty well." 
 
 The next day Honeycut was arrainged before court. 
 He pleaded not guilty, the same plea he had pre 
 viously set up before a justice of the peace, but could 
 prove nothing. His confession, together with Hobdy's 
 testimony, left no doubt of his conviction. The jury, 
 without leaving the box, rendered a verdict of guilty. 
 Honeycut betrayed no emotion, but, discharging a 
 mouthful of tobacco-juice, nodded at Hobdy, and 
 said: 
 
 "The devil will git yer fur this." 
 
 "Yas," the old man replied; "but it 'pears like he's 
 goin' ter git somebody else fust." 
 
 Honeycut did not seem to realize his situation until 
 sentence was pronounced. Then he sank down on a 
 bench, where he remained until the sheriff led him away. 
 He was given two weeks' time during which to prepare 
 for death. Murray, the circuit rider, called upon him. 
 
 "Mr. Honeycut," said he, "are you sorry for what you 
 have done?" 
 
 "Yas, sir." 
 
 "You realize that your soul is in danger of being sent 
 to torment, do you not?" 
 
 "Yas ; I reckon o."
 
 328 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Are you repentant enough do you realize that the 
 Saviour's blood is all that can save man?" 
 
 "Yas; an' ef I bTeve that, I'll go to heaven won't I?" 
 
 The minister arose, looked at the brute, and said, 
 "Perhaps I am too honest to engage in this sort of 
 business. God knows that I would not seek to throw a 
 stumbling-block in the way of any man, but I do not 
 think that it is my duty to encourage you. Heaven is 
 the abode of the gentle and noble children of man, and 
 not for the murderer. I bid you good-morning." 
 
 When it became known that Murray had refused to 
 give a spiritual prescription to Honeycut many women 
 were horrified, but when he had preached a sermon in 
 defence of himself he stood forth acquitted of the charge 
 of inhumanity. Honeycut secured another preacher, a 
 shouting old fellow who had long been silenced by con 
 ference, on account of a charge, a little too well founded, 
 declaring that the "unreverend" gentleman had pulled 
 down a fence, and had driven his hogs into another 
 man's cornfield. This man prayed and shouted, and, in 
 the language of Mort Haney, rubbed Honeycut down un 
 til he was in good training. 
 
 One Thursday evening, while Len was strolling near 
 the village, he came upon a party of men engaged in 
 erecting a scaffold. One of them, Mr. Braley, threw 
 down his saw, shook hands with Len, and said: 
 
 "Been livin' here a mighty long time, an' this is the 
 fust work I've ever got outen ther county. The sheriff 
 axed me how much I'd charge, an' I told him hurry 
 up thar, boys, fur we've got ter finish it ter-day told 
 him that I didn't know. He 'lowed that money wuz
 
 LEN GANSETT. 329 
 
 scarce, but said that ef I done ther work well he'd give 
 me ernuff meat ter do me three munt's. Don't b'l'eve 
 he knows whut er contract he's un'ertook. Hurry up, 
 men! Andy, saw off ther eend uv that beam. That's 
 it. Spence, ef them nails ain't big ernuff take them 
 other ones." 
 
 The next day Dogwood was crowded with people from 
 all over the country. Early at morning Dockery took 
 a, position near the jail, and would, doubtless, have 
 occupied the place until the procession was formed had 
 not his wife ordered him away. Honeycut and old Billy 
 Winn, the preacher, continued to pray until the sheriff 
 informed them that the time was up. The criminal was 
 placed in a cart. He was pale, but was not excited 
 had that dazed expression peculiar to the victims of the 
 gallows. He had to be assisted up the steps of the 
 scaffold, and when he stepped forward in response to the 
 question, "Have you anything to say?" his knees shook. 
 
 "I ain't got much ter say that'll int'rest these here 
 folks," he said. "I killed Buck, an' I'm goin' ter suffer 
 fur it. I am ready ready ter die, fur I b'l'eve my sins 
 have been wiped out." 
 
 His neck was not broken by the fall, and he died a 
 slow and horrible death. 
 
 As Len and his grandfather turned away from the 
 place, the old man remarked: "This is awful, but he 
 brought it on himself. It is a mighty hard matter to 
 dodge the jedgment o' the Lord."
 
 330 LEX GANSETT. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 COLONEL BENTLY was seized with a virulent type of 
 fever. On the day of the execution of Honeycut the 
 colonel was delirious, but the next day his mind being 
 temporarily clear he sent for Len. 
 
 "I haven't much to say," he said. "I know that I am 
 going to die, and I did not want to die without seeing 
 you again. I cannot with Julian say that I die without 
 remorse, as I have lived without reproach, but I shall 
 do the best I can under the circumstances. Strange as 
 it may seem to you, Len, I am not afraid to die. I can 
 not believe that there are future glories laid up for me; 
 but somehow I am willing to leave it all to the one who 
 has had the shaping of my life. I know that this is a 
 dangerous dectrine to teach to those who would take the 
 advantage of it by attributing all their shortcomings to 
 Fate, yet I cannot help but believe it. Honeycut was 
 hanged, they tell me." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How did he stand it?" 
 
 "Acted his part very well." 
 
 "Wish you'd chip me off a piece of that ice. Every 
 time I think of that fellow I want ice. Probably it is 
 because I think he has gone to such a warm place. 
 Thank you," he added, as he took the ice. "Great Lord, 
 how my blood burns! Nobody can live in this damp 
 place. Look," he said, with a smile, "how it affected 
 Honeyeut's health."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 331 
 
 "Colonel, is there anything I can do for you?" 
 
 "Nothing, Gansett. Yes, come and see me often, 
 that is, when I am myself. If I am delirious when you 
 call, don't come in. Did I put that ice in my trunk?" 
 
 "It is in your hand." 
 
 "That's true, but I thought I had locked it up and 
 sent it away. You'd better leave me, Len." 
 
 Bently grew worse day by day, and a physician who 
 had come from a distance said that recovery was impos 
 sible. His words were verified. One night, while a 
 violent storm was blowing, while the frightened inhabi 
 tants of Dogwood were momentarily expecting to see 
 their houses blown away, the summons came. Len and 
 his grandfather were in the cell at the time. The lamp 
 light flickered, the storm roared. 
 
 "Is that a stage-coach running away?" the colonel 
 asked in a weak voice. 
 
 "It is the wind," Len replied. 
 
 "It has come to blow my soul away." 
 
 The light went out. Len struck a match, and by its 
 glare he saw that the man was dead. 
 
 The day was beautiful. The leaves were in the glow 
 ing brown of maturity, and the streams, after the fierce 
 heat of summer, seemed to leap with brighter life. L T n- 
 trained, but musical, voices sang in a little church. It 
 was Len and Ned's wedding-day. Everybody in the 
 neighborhood was present, not in the church, for it 
 was too small, but were gathered about it. Just before
 
 332 LEN GAN8ETT. 
 
 the ceremony was over, one man, addressing an acquain 
 tance, said: 
 
 "Goin' ter have suthin' ter eat somewhar on the 
 ground, I reckon. My folks ain't no hands fur nick- 
 nacks. What they want is meat, an' er plenty uv it. 
 Eeckon they'll have fresh meat here 'stead uv middlin's. 
 Wall, it don't make much difference with me so it's 
 meat. Excuse me a minute. There's my wife standing 
 over yonder, and I don't want her to see me. She's one 
 of the finest creatures, she sees me, and I've got to go." 
 
 Among those who pressed forward to congratulate 
 Len was Parker, the whiskey-drummer, who had just 
 arrived. 
 
 "Glad to see you," said Parker. "Told you I'd get my 
 watch again. Got it, yes, sir, got it. Hear you are going 
 north on a bridal tour. Would like to go along, but have 
 got business in this part of the country. Printer named 
 Collins going to run your paper while you are gone, I 
 believe? Well, whenever I come around I'll help him 
 out. I've got a fine line of gags on hand." 
 
 The wedding tour, necessarily economical, was not an 
 extended one. On the return trip the train was so 
 delayed that the stage was gone when Len and his wife 
 reached Oak Hill. 
 
 "I hope we shall not be compelled to stay at that 
 miserable little hotel," said Ned. 
 
 "We won't. I'll hire some one to take us over in a 
 wagon." 
 
 A wagon was secured. "Do you know anything about 
 the Abbott's Ford neighborhood?" Len asked as they 
 drove along.
 
 LEN GANSETT. 333 
 
 "Not much," the driver replied. 
 
 "Don't know, then, whether or not anything has hap 
 pened within the last two weeks?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 They met no one, did not go through Dogwood, but 
 drove straight home. When they got out at the gate 
 old man Gansett came to meet them. Tears were roll 
 ing down his face. He did not speak, but leading Len 
 and Ned into the orchard, he pointed to a fcesh mound 
 and said, "Your gran'ma." 
 
 When they had entered the house the old man said: 
 "She wasn't sick long, an' I hope that I'll go as she did. 
 Don't let me worry you, my dear children. This is a 
 gloomy place, but I can't help it. Don't pay any 
 attention to me." 
 
 Ned put her arms around the old man's neck. "Grand 
 pa," she said, "you must know that God's will is best. 
 She was prepared to go home, and wjien she went she 
 found her house in order." 
 
 "God bless you, my darling! God bless you!" he 
 sobbed. "You air an angel, if there ever was one." 
 
 The next morning, Ned, addressing her husband, 
 remarked, "Some time ago you promised that after we 
 were married I might go to the office with you every 
 day and help you edit the paper. Nothing could give 
 me more pleasure, but I cannot go and leave grandpa 
 alone." 
 
 "Ned, you are not only the sweetest, but the best girl 
 that ever lived. Has grandpa told you of a certain plan 
 he has laid out." 
 
 "No."
 
 334 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "Perhaps lie wants to surprise you." 
 
 "Please tell me, and I'll promise to be just as much 
 surprised when he tells me." 
 
 "Oh, you charming little hypocrite! He has rented 
 the little house where your father lives." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "To keep your father from renting it." 
 
 "But what will become of dad?" 
 
 "He is to come here and live with us." 
 
 "There," exclaimed Ned, "grandpa is calling me. 
 Eun along to your work now, and be a good boy." 
 
 Shortly after he had reached the office, and while he 
 was talking to Collins, Dockery rushed in and greeted 
 him with a demonstration that was almost violent. 
 
 "Sit down, Dockery; sit down. Glad to see you. How 
 are you getting along?" 
 
 "First-class." 
 
 "How is your paper?" 
 
 "My dear boy," said the Honorable Mangus Dockery, 
 the 'Eagle of Freedom' is is I might say, no more, 
 or, in more classic language, has ceased to shriek." 
 "I am sorry to hear it." 
 
 "Oh, no, say, rather, that you congratulate me. My 
 wife came to the conclusion, and I heartily concurred 
 with her, that we'd better sell out; so we sold the 
 plant" 
 
 "The sprout, you mean," Collins suggested. 
 
 "Never mind, Cap'n Collins, I know what I am talk 
 ing about. Sold the plant to a fellow who has moved it 
 off somewhere. We I speak of my wife and myself 
 have opened a small grocery store. Here's our business
 
 LEN GANSETT. 335 
 
 card. Whenever you want anything in our line give us 
 a call. Well, sir, you do not know what a relief it is to 
 get out of the harness. I have always known that I had 
 commercial talents, and I have often believed that I was 
 wrong in throwing away my time in a calling which 
 demands so little serious thought." 
 
 "Do you keep the books?" 
 
 "Well, no; my wife does that." 
 
 "You are the salesman, I suppose?" 
 
 "Well, not exactly. You see, after consulting with my 
 wife, I thought it better to spend the most of my valu 
 able time in working on a piece of land we have rented, 
 preparatory to the production of vegetables upon which 
 we can live without drawing upon our other resources. 
 I am now in my working" garb, having just come over 
 from the field; and, by the way, if you should see my 
 wife soon, don't mention the fact that I came over from 
 the field, for she might not like it because I did not go 
 home first and render myself more presentable. Eemark- 
 ably neat woman, Gansett; remarkably neat! Well, I 
 must be getting back." 
 
 As Mr. Dockery went out he spoke to two men who 
 were coming in. The two men were Braley and Mort 
 Haney. After cordial greeting they sat down and began 
 to tell Len how much everybody had missed him. 
 
 "Big changes have happened here sense you fust 
 come," said Haney. 
 
 "I wuz jist er-thinkin* erbout that," remarked Braley. 
 
 "Yes," Len replied, "several changes have occurred." 
 
 "We're goin* ter have a railroad putty soon," said 
 Haney.
 
 336 LEN GANSETT. 
 
 "I wuz jist a-goin' ter tell him that," remarked Braley. 
 
 "Yes/' Len replied. "They have already begun work, 
 and before many months trains will be running through 
 this place." 
 
 "Kailroads, I reckon, air mighty good things," ob 
 served Braley; "bu"t I've hearn that they do bring up 
 ther price uv meat might'ly. Hear 'em say that 'fo' 
 ther railroad went to Oak Hill yer could buy middlin's 
 fur er little ur nothin', but that yer kain't hardly git 
 'em now fur love nur money." 
 
 "How are you off fur meat now, Braiey?" Len asked. 
 
 "Well, I'll jest tell yer how it is with me. When I 
 left home this mornin' wife she 'lowed ef I didn't fetch 
 er middlin' back when I come it wouldn't be good for 
 me; but I ain't made the raise uv nairy one yit." 
 
 "You are going by my house, are you not?" Len asked. 
 
 "Oh, yas, I ken go by anywhar." 
 
 "Here," said Len, after writing on the reverse side 
 of a proof-sheet, "this is an order for as much meat as 
 you can carry." 
 
 "Much erbleeged, Mr. Gansett; much erbleeged. 
 B'l'eve I'll jog on out thater way now. Haney, ready to 
 shove? Well, come on then. Say, Mr. Gansett, 
 whenever yer want any work done, don't furgit ter 
 let me know. I ken do it better 'n anybody else, and it 
 sha'n't cost yer er cent, nuther," 
 
 Old man Hobdy was delighted at the prospect of liv 
 ing with the Gansetts. 'T)idn't know I'd ever live in 
 sich er fine house," he said, gazing at the rough logs 
 and rougher stones of the old building; "but er man 
 don't know one day what's goin' ter come ther next."
 
 LEN GANSETT. 337 
 
 October mellowed into November, the crowning glory 
 of an Arkansas year. In the evening Len and his wife 
 would walk along the shore of the beautiful river, and 
 in the twilight they sang old songs. Old man Gansett 
 rarely smiled. His vigor was gone, but in the evening 
 he walked, not along the river, but in the old orchard 
 where his wife was buried. One evening, when Len was 
 with him, he pointed to an apple-tree above Mrs. Gan- 
 sett's grave, and said: 
 
 "Me an' your gran'ma set out that tree many years 
 ago. For a long time now it has had fewer an' fewer 
 apples on it ever' year, an' this year it only had two. 
 They growed clost together way up at the top, an' the 
 day your gran'ma was buried one o' them fell off. 
 There's the other one up there now." 
 
 "Do you want me to get it for you?" Len asked. 
 
 "No, let it stay." 
 
 One morning the old man did not come to breakfast. 
 He said that he felt too bad to eat anything. A physi 
 cian who was immediately summoned, said that Mr. 
 Gansett had pneumonia. A few days later, on a calm 
 and beautiful day, his body was tenderly borne out into 
 the old orchard. Just as the coffin was lowered, an apple 
 fell from the top of a tree and rolled into the grave. 
 
 A railroad now passes through Dogwood, and though 
 it may affect the price of "middlin's," yet it is a great 
 advantage to the general public. The old Gansett house 
 has undergone no change, and in the evening, when the 
 weather is fine, Len and his wife walk along the shore of 
 the beautiful river.
 
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