Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1882-09-09


Mechanically the deacon took it and
saw it was still sealed, and saw also it
was the package he had been expecting.
Then IN dazed way he looked at his
partner, standing with his eyes fixed on
the ground, and the old, sullep, de-
spondent look on his face. Raising his
eyes he met the deacons for an instant
and read the horror in his face.
8 see you, too, have judged me" he
said, IN voice so low As to be nearly
inaudible. "WelI, so be it; can die
like man, and an innocent one, too;
for deacon" and he faced the old man
with steady look, "I found that pack
age lying on the trail this morning. l
had grown tired of waiting and started
toward the camp to meet you. When I
picked it up [ knew something was
wrong, and it flashed upon me to keep
ont of sight. especially after what had
happened before. ] asked them to bring
me here that might tell you the truth,
and tell you that / appreciated your
kindness. l have nothing more to say"
he added, YEARLY, and his despondent
face fell once more upon his breast.
"Still the deacon never looked at
him, but covered his face with hand
that trembled in spite of himself.
Well, deakin," at length said the
bluff voice OF the spokesman, "you see
how it is-a likely story; but then, of
course, he wouldn't confess it. This is
the second time, too. The first we let
him off easy, but now" and the
speaker paused ominously.
A low but determined murmur of
assent came from the others. The
deacon heard it, and his hand fell from
his face and grasped the breast of his
flannel shirt convulsively, as he turned
and faced them.
"Now," he said in low, firm voice,
tyou know me. You know that never
once have left the straight and narrow
path to join in the denominations over
there" pointing to the camp.
"That's so, deakin," said the spokes-
mau, little taken aback at this abrupt
address. "We all know you have fol-
lowed the straight trail, aud that your
ways wasn't exactly our ways"
"Yes," said the deacon, ''your ways
were not my ways. For, men, saw
the folly of it all and had long ago found
out that life was not given us to be frit-
tered away like that; that it was ter
ribIe earnest thing to be fought and con-
quered and trampled under foot and be
made subservient to the end.
"For twenty odd years." the deacon
continued, as the others were silent
''for twenty odd years have walked as
straight as it was in me to do, keeping
steadily on without friend or companion
until he came. Then l saw what
wreck he had made of life, and thought
| might set him right aud stand his
friend, and maybe in time he might
he might at least pc friend to me-.
The deacon's steady voice trembled
slightly as he paused, aud his auditors
still kept silence, held not by any elo-
quence in his speech, but by the grim
earnestness of his manner. Still facing
them, he moved to the young man s side
and laid his hand on his shoulder.
"He is innocent" he said in the same
steady voice. "I feel it-I know it, and
you shall not harm him. But if he
were not"-and the deacon threw one
arm about him and shielded him from
them with his broad breast-"if he
were guilty of all You say, you should
not harm him while draw the breath
OF life; for, men. | am his father y
For an instant his auditors gaZed ut
the deacon's gaunt figure appraised be-
fore the other. Then bluff voice said
softly, "Boys, we'd better git" and the
two were left alone.
Half way down the mountain side the
leader of the little party suddenly
stopped.
''Boys," he exclaimed, abruptly,
'fwhat will the camp say to this ?"
"They will say we are lot Of
soft-hearted fools y
''Let them y defantIy said the bluff
voice of the leader. "Let them say
what they please, for, boys, there amt
any of this crowd going to part them
two now."
But the camp didn't say so at all The
camp, instead, worked itself up into
such q state of enthusiasm over the
deacon's pluck, and drank SO many and
so much hearty healths to the deacon
and his newly found son, that the re-
sources of the "Miner's Retreat" were
we'll nigh exhausted. For, upon their
return, the real culprIt had been cap
tured, and his last confession revealed
the truth.
Magically, Mountain City had sprung
into existence-like magic it faded
away. The "Green Mountain Boy +"
had proved to be ''blind lead" the
mines had failed, and the camp was
abandoned. The tents have long since
vanished, with their tenants, and only
the mouldering Lighthouses, their dirt
roofs fallen in, mark the site of the once
prosperous camp.
With the rest, the little tent upon the
mountain side has disappeared, and it's
inmates have gone, no one knows
whittier, most likely to follow the bea-
con hight of Fortune westward over the
mountain tops.
But, though the silver vein hidden in
the mountains breast was destined never
to be discovered, yet the deacon was
richer by far. For, in the reverent af-
fection of the son he had saved and re-
claimed, he had struck vein of pure
gold yielding more aud more abundant
ly, and never to be exhausted.
/ Dt.a