Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1892-11-21

his ducats to his daughter.
AT last he slept but not any too
soundly; dreams visited him, and un-
pleasant ones they were. Vision after
vision came and faded, and his wife was
alarmed beyond measure to see his un-
conscious hands go out again and again,
perilously near sometimes to the loaded
rifle.
1t was midnight before she slept at all,
but then her sleep was profound. 1t
was broken at last by the strangest and
most thrilling of sounds, no less star
tling than a heavy fall, and a loud,
harsh, reverberating report, as though
cannon had been fired at her ear.
No woman is ever too frightened to
scream, and Mrs. Jameson's shrieks
were loud and shrill as she covered
among the bedclothes, and scrambling
in the darkness and muttered words she
could not understand did not tend to
calm her.
There was rush of feet in the hall
without; stout shoulder sent the door
inward with crash, and Dick Levoe,
who had made this unceremonious en-
trance, stood there, with light high
above his head, his keen eyes scanning
the apartment swiftly.
1t took him moment to comprehend,
and then he laughed with immeasur-
able amusement.
The miller, clad but lightly, was
sprawling on the floor, dazed wonder in
his face, the old rifle, which he had struck
as he fell, lying harmless beside him
and now unloaded; a window was open,
and through it came fine sheet of rain;
the old man was soaking wet and rain
drops glistened on his hair and scanty
garments; his bare feet were muddy,
and altogether he presented anything
but an agreeable or presentable appear
ance.
"What has happened?" asked Dick as
soon as his mirth could be suppressed, as
he aided the miller to his feet.
IL don't know" stammered Jane,
son.
His wife, hearing voices, cautiously
peeped out from under the coverlet.
"Robbers!" she cried shrilly. "They
have been here again. Have they shot
you, Harvey?
"No, wife, I'm not shot" said Harvey,
"an l don't think there's been any rob-
walking"
"What"
GIVE been walkin in my sleep, sure as
you live," groaned the miller. I'm all
wet, so | must have gone out of doors,
an the Lord only knows where have
been or what I've been doin. l was
dreamin of that ten pounds
He broke off and hurried to the spot
in which he had hidden the money. 1t
was not there.
you're rather old for such capers,
Harvey" his wife was saying.
But he didn't hear her. Very blankly
he turned to Dick, who had now retreat
ed to the threshold where Jennie was
standing, white and startled, but ravish-
ingly pretty.
Lad" the miller said solemnly, 81
believe I've robbed myself. I've heard
of such things, an nowI believe I've just
done that an hain't got notion where
l put the money"
"Is it gomez"
"Yes."
"Then you had best put on dry clothes,
sir, while go out and try to follow the
tracks you have probably left in the
garden. Your feet are so muddy Pm
sure you must have been there. I'll re-
port in few moments"
A whispered sentence to Jennie at the
door, and Dick was off to don his boots
and laugh at the remembrance of the
miller's plight.
With lantern he went out into the
rain, and his gravity departed again as
under the window of the miller's
chamber he discovered deeply indented
footprints, which proved that Jameson
had emerged like schoolboy.
The big, bare feet left plain traces in
the soft soil of the garden. Dick fol-
lowed them on across the road, and
found that they ceased at one corner of
the mill. A loose board had been
freshly replaced. He drew it out and
there, in the aperture, found small tin
box.
Taking it out, he hurried back to find
Jameson, his wife and Jennie up and
dressed, waiting for him.
The miller took the box eagerly and
opened it with scarcely steady hands.
There were the ten pounds, and under
them the money of which he had thought
Dick had robbed him.
Lad" he said, turning to his EN-,
ployee, 'Ive been thinkin ill of you for
the last few days, an ask your pardon.
If | can ever do you good turn call on
me-"
Il take your word, sir" said Dick
cheerfully, going straight to Jennie and
taking her hand. 81 want your consent
to my marrying Jennie some day, when
l have proved myself able to take care
of her. We love each other, and l hope,
sir, you'll not forget what love was to
yourself once"
"No, l don't, lad," said the miller,
with tender glance toward his wife;
"but a mill hand gets but poor wages,
an you'll have to wait awhile"
"As for that" said Dick, 81 think
you'll have to look up another mill hand
Mr.. Jameson, for have another offer,
and intend taking it. wasn't brought