St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1882-03-31

ceased speaking.
"Amos," said the deacon one even
ing, ~ am expecting the final payment
on the Green Mountain Boy 1t ought
to come on the coach day after to-mor-
row, and as we are running short in
the grub line, suppose we go to the
city, get the money, and lay in a new
supply ?"
''As you will, Deacon" the other re-
piled.
And so in the morning they set out,
driving the burrO before them. To-
wards evening, as they drew near ''the
city" Amos began to betray signs of
uneasineSs.
''DeacOn,7 said he, at length, "yOu
have never thought it might get us
both into trouble if | was seen in the
city after-what | told you that first
night, you remember ?"
True, boy" the deacon replied, as
he stopped still. II had forgotten
about it."
at would be best, think" Amos
continued, indicating the spot with his
hand as he spoke, ''fOr me to camp to-
night in this little gulch off the trail.
You can go on to the city and l will
await your return in the morning"
So they separated and the deacon
went on alone. 1t was late when he
arrived the express office was still
open, however, pending the arrival of
the coach, then due. After having wait
ed vainly for its coming for some little
time, he walked away and sought lOdg-
ings for the night.
The next morning he found the city
in excitement. The incoming coach
had been "held up" the night before
by a single road agent, and the treas
ure box ritled of its contents, and par
ties were even now in search of the
depredatOr. Hurrying to the express
Office, the deacon learned it was true,
and learned also his expected package
had been taken with the rest.
The loss bore hard upon the deacon,
for it had been all he had except the
little now in his possession. This,
however, he now expended i'll prOvis-
ions, and, packing the burrO, set out to
reiOin his companion.
Arrived at the spot where the two
had parted he found no one. Vainly
he shouted and waited there was no
response.
''IIe has gotten tired of waiting, and
returned alone to the tent" thought
the deacon, and, so thinking, hurried
onward to the tent also. But he was
again disappOinted-the was no one
there.
Mechanically the deacon drew off the
pack and released the burrO to Craze.
Then, for the first time, he began to
connect the robbery of the coach with
his partners disappearance.
''He could net do it-he would not y
muttered the deacon, as he walked tC
and fro, shouting at intervals and lis
tening vainly for Il reply.
And Vet for all his prOtestations the
thought would obtrude itself, causing
him to walk about i'll agitation and
mutter again and again, 'He could not
he would not !" And still he was
more shocked than surprised, when al
nightfall Il party came up the little
trail with his partner in their midst.
"Deacon," said the spokesman, a,
they gathered about the little tent
''we brought him here at his last re-
quest, for it's clear case against him
He was caught skulking about the trai
this morning, and we found this oI
him." and the speaker extended Il pack
age.
Mechanically the deacon took it, saw
it was still sealed, and saw also it wa
the package he had been expecting
Then in dazed way he looked at hi
partner standing with his eyes fixed OF
the ground, and the old, sullen, de
spOndent look on his face. Raising hi
eyes he met the deacon's for an instant
and read the horror in his face.
II see you, too, have judged me,
he said, i'll voice so low as to be near
ly inaudible. "Well, so be it | cal
but die like IL man and an innOcen
one, too for, Deacon" and he face,
the old man with Il steady look, 50
found that package lying in the trai
this morning. | had grown tired O
waiting and started towards the cam
to meet you. When | picked it up
knew something was wrong, and
flashed upon me to keep out of sight
especially after what had happene
before | asked them to bring me her
that | might tell you the truth, an
tell You also | appreciated your kind
ness. | have nothing more to say,
he added, wearily, and his desponden
face fell once more upon his breast.
Still the deacon never looked at hin
but covered his face with Il hand tina
trembled in spite of himself.
"Wen, deakin," at length said tn
E bluff voice of the spokesman, ''yOu sc
how it is-a likely story but then, {
. course, he wouldn't confess it. This
the second time, too. The first we lt
him off easy, but now" and tn
: speaker paused ominOusly.
A low but determined murmur (
? assent came from the others. The des
: con heard it, and his hand fell from h
: face and grasped the breast of his fiar
mel shirt convulsively, as he turne
and faced them.
l "Now," he said, in low, firm voic
( 'yOu know me. You know that nev'
once have left the straight and ma
a row path to join in the abominatiol
over there" pointing to the camp.
That's so, deakin,' said the spoke
p. man, little taken back at this abrul
= address, eve all know you have 70
f lowed the straight trail, and that yol
WAYS wasn't our ways"
u .'Yes.n replied the deacon, "yOl
:. ways were not my ways. For, men,
e saw the folly of it all, and had long az
t found out life was not given us to
= frittered away like that ; that it was
T terrible earnest thing, to be fought al
v conquered and trampled under foe
d and be made subservient to the end
e "For twenty odd years." the deacC
! continued, as the others were silent
d ''fOr twenty odd years | have wake
as straight as it was in me to do, kee
; ing steadily on without friend or cor
- panion until-he came. Then | sa
It what a wreck he had made of life, al
G thought | might set him right al
It stand his friend, and may be in tin
l. he might-he might at least be a friel
to me-"
g The deacOn's steady voice trembl