San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-04-13
the same time.

1T may as well De DOT as in, he an
swered, and went away rather sulkily,
turning around after few yards and
holding up his finger toward me to i'm
press the necessity of caution.
My father did not speak of this mat
ter to me again, but what he said ranked
in my mind. could hardly realize that
he meant his words, for he had always,
as far as knew, been an upright, right
eous man, hard in his ways and grasp
ing in his nature, but guiltless of any
great sin. Perhaps it was that he was
removed from temptation, for isother-
NAL lines of crime might be drawn on
the map through places where it is hard
to walk straight, and there are others
where it is as hard to fall. 1t was easy
to be saint in the Island of Uffa.
One day we were finishing breakfast
when our guest asked if the boat was
mended Zone of the tholepins had been
broken). l answered that it was.
II want you two," he said, "to take
me round to Lamlash to-day. You shall
have couple of sovereigns for the job.
l don't know that may not come back
with you-but may stay"
My eyes met those of nv father for n
flash. There's mo- vera much wind"
he said.
"What there is is in the right direc-
tion," returned Digby, as l must call
him.
"The new foresail has no been bent"
persisted my father.
There's no use throwing difficulties
in the way" said our visitor angrily.
IF you won't come, I'll get Tommy
Gibbs and his father, but go shall. Is
it bargain or not?"
"Tll gang" my father replied sullenly,
and went down to get the boat ready. l
followed, and helped him to bend ON the
new foresail. l felt nervous and ex-
cited.
"What do you intend to do?" asked.
81 dinna KEN" he said irritably. "Gin
the worst come to the worst we can gle
him up at Lamlash-but oh, it wad be a
peety, an awful peety. You're young
an strong, laddie; can we no. master
him between u.s."
mo" said, I'm ready to give him
up, but I'm damned if lay hand on
him.
you're a cooardly, white livered
loonr' he cried, but was not to be
moved by taunts; and left him mum
bling to himself and picking at the sail
with nervous fingers.
1t was about two o'clock before the
boat was ready, but as there was a
slight breeze from the north we reck-
oned on reaching Lamlash before night
fall. There was just a pleasant ripple
upon the dark blue water, and as we
stood on the beach before showing off we
could see the Carlin's Leap and Goatfell
bathed in purple mist, while beyond
them along the horizon doomed the long
line of the Argyleshire hills. Away to
the south the great bald summit of Ailsa
Craig glittered in the sun, and a single
white feck showed where fishing boat
was beating up from the Scotch coast.
Digby and l stepped into the boat, but
my father ran back to where / had been
mending the rails and came back with
the hatchet in his hand, which he
slowed away under the, thwarts.
"What dye want with the ax? our
visitor asked.
"It's handy thing to hae ABBOTT a
boat" my father answered with averted
eyes, and showed us off. We set the fore
sail, jib and mainsail and shot away
across the Roost, with the blue water
splashing merrily under our bows. Look
ing back saw the coast line of our little
island extend rapidly on either side.
There was Carravoe which we had left,
and our own beach of Carracuil, and the
steep, brown face of the Combera, and
away behind the rugged crests of Beg
na-phail and Beg-na-sacher ! could see
the red tiles of the byre of our home
stealing, and across the moor a thin blue
reek in the air which marked the posi-
ton of Corriemains. My heart warmed
toward the place which had been my
home since childhood.
We were about half way across the
Roost when it fell a dead calm, and the
sails tapped against the mast. We were
perfectly motionless except for the drift
of the current, which runs from north
to south. l had been steering and my
father managing the sails, while the
stranger smoked his eternal cigarettes
and admired the scenery; but at his sug-
gestion we now got the SOULS out to
row. shall never know how it began,
but as l was STOPPING down to pick up
an oar 1 heard our visitor give great
scream that he was murdered, and look
ing up saw him with his face all in a
sputter of blood leaning against the
mast, while my father made at him with
the Ratchet. Before | could move hand