Daily Kennebec journal., 1884-07-23
Gales aud Sketfhes.
THE TURN OF An ACCIDENT.
tContinuec from yesterday. }

girl, weeping bitterly.
Give the gentleman his wallet back,
then. and perhaps he'll let you of
Il can't | haven't got it, Oh, please
believe me- Don't send me to jail ~ she
urged.
The landladv only answered by an eX-
preston OF disgust. And. throwing her
apron over her head, the poor girl wept
in silence, saying no more.
John had held his peace during this al
tercation, sharply eying the persons con-
cerned in it. meanwhile. The Nashes he
knew something about. They were OF
good reputation as far as he was aware.
The maid was a stranger to them, as TO
him: but, in spite Of the circumstances,
and her manner. which was hardly less
suspicious. he could not bring himself to
believe her guilty. He was not hasty
man. and he was just one, with kind
heart TO back his temperate judgments !;
and after few minutes reflection he made
up his mind what to do.
Il can't swear that | put the wallet
under the pillow, or anywhere else he
said. I'm pretty sure that did. but my
thoughts about it are confused, somehow,
and it may be that left it at Bolton, where
slept Tuesday night. | don't want no
injustice done on my account. Don't cry
ike at''-addressing himself to the girl
-.I'll tell you what I'll do. Will you
get the bay mare shod during the day ?"
to Mr.. Nash-''and if you'll lend me a
saddle I'll ride back to Bolton and make
inquiry there. If find the money, well
and good if don't it will be time enough
to talk further about it Tomorrow
I'm sure it's good of you to take so
much trouble declared the landlady.
But whether or no, the girl don't stay
here. I'll have no suspected thief IN my
house :"
'.There'll be nothing to suspect her Of,
if find the wallet, ," rejoined John dryly.
Don't give the poor girl bad name till
YOU know that she deserves it." Then he
left the room. unmindtul of the look OF
gratitude which shone upon him from the
blue eyes of the girl, who had dropped
her apron, and she gazed after him till he
was outof sight.
His reflections were not agreeable, as he
retraced his footsteps over the dusty high
way, travelled but yesterday with so light
heart. The loss OF his money meant a
good deal TO John Boyd. The pressure of
shoulders, as he thought over the proba-
bilites of its non-recovery. but won t
give in without fight for it, he thought,
grimly, as he urged his horse forward.
Miles seem doubly long when measured
by heavy heart, and, what with dust,
heat and the continual effort TO clear his
mental confusion as to when and where
he had last seen his wallet, the young far
mer was tagged and despirited enough.
before noon was fairly come.
He stopped to dine at little tavern at
tached to a toll gate, and with some vague
hope that the money might have been
picked up on the road by some one, men
toned his loss. The tolI-keeper shook his
head.
'Bolton's your only chance" he said.
If it was on the road you dropped it.
there's no likelihood that you'll ever hear
of it again. The dust is eight inches deep.
should say, and there's been three big
| droves of sheep, and one of bullocks
along since yesterday, so if your wallet
was lying there, they must have trampled
it under pretty thoroughly. 1t is buried
/ deep enough, you may he sure, unless,
which is just as likely to happen, some one
/ has picked it up and made off with it.
| Your chance is a slim one, reckon
! Cold comfort this; but John was forced
to agree with his opinion. Despondngiy
/ he rode through the afternoon, scanning
/ the way rs he went, tor, despite the toll
/ keeper, faint hope still fingered in his
heart, though the track. deep in dust. and
churned aud trampled by the crowded
/ droves, presented a sorry field for either
/ hope or discovery.
/ He bad gained the top OF Il long hill,
from when Bolton was dimly visible.
when n moving object far ahead caught
his eve, and he rose in his stirrups in or
der to see more clearly. As he did so.
his horse made a false step, stumbled, and
threw him forward in the saddle so that
his head grazed the horses neck. 1t was
in this position that tiny object, patch
/ OF red, not over an inch square, in the
dust beneath, caught his eve. His heart
gave a little leap, then he called himself
a fool, but all the same he dismounted to
examine, Already a random hoofstroke
had buried the red patch from sight, but
John recollected the spot, and stopping,
dug and sCOoped till it again became vis-
BILE. His fingers recognized a solid sub
stance. Trembling with excitement. he
continued to dig: another second, and the
object was uncovered, lifted out and with
a wild, incredulous whoop OF joy, John
Boyd held in his hand his wallet, buried
deep by the hurrying herds, and uncover
ed for one passing moment that his eve
might rest upon it. and no other. Except
for that lucky stumble, ne would have rid
den over the lost treasure, and never
dreamed what lay beneath his horses feet.
And some folks say there ain no God.
was his mental comment. spoken half
aloud. Then-for John Boyd's religion,
though a homely. was a true one-he bent
his head, and said IA few words Of thanks
giving after which. jumping on his horse.
he took the backward route. eager to tell
his good fortune. and exonerate the poor
girl, who. as he now remembered with
self-reproach, must have passed a painful
day under the stigma of undeserved sus-
picion,
The heat was yielding to evening fresh
ness. and he urged his horse, impatient to
set matters straight; but. with his best
endeavor. it was after IL O'Clock before he
at last drew rein in front of Nash's hotel
He was expected, that was evident, for
lights were burning. and both Nash and
his wife hurried out to meet him. wearing
faces of lugubrious length, which only in
part changed to cheerfulness when they
heard of the recovery of the wallet
aVhpra what did toll ,-opC'- ,r;aJ .b .