Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1893-06-01


words last viii and testament Of
James Athertou."
With his heart humping he has
tily glanced through it. Putting it
IN his pocket, he started homeward
over the Pennington Mountain on
a run. What happiness he was car
rying For he bore in his pocket
the missing viii of James Atherton,
win dated 10 years later than the
one giving Barney everything, and
giving William Atherton complete
| possession of the farm he occupied.
Il xas bittes. cold. day. Al
though Thanksgiving had passed,
no snow. had fallen and the frozen
ground shivered for its white win
ter blanket. The way over the
Pennington Mountain was a long
one, and the sun was low before
Roger had accomplished half the
steep ascent. As he climbed higher
and took the full force of the keen
north wind from which he had been
sheltered in the valley, more than
once he wished he had stayed at
Brambleton over night.
But Roger was young and vigor-
ous, and as the cold increased he
walked the faster, pressing toward
the shelter of the forest that clothed
the top and western side of the
mountain. The last rays of the
sun were shining through the leaf
less trees with a coppery glare just
as he reached the summit. Black
against the disk of the sinking orb
he saw the figure of q man in the
path some distance ahead of him
sway, stagger and fall to the ground.
He rushed on to reach him, and
when he bent over he saw it was his
old cousin Barney.
ssI'm overcome with cold," Bar
ney managed to say. eff you can't
get me to some place where | can
manage to get warm I'll freeze to
death. Help meifyou can; remem-
Der we are cousins"
"There isn't a house within three
miles," said Roger, "but the old
panther's den isn't far off, and if
you can get there and have any
matches about you I'll build fire
and have it warm in no time at all.
Lean on me and we'll make it."
Half dragging him. Roger got
him to the little cave which had
been the home of the last panther
in Vermont. The old man handed
Roger all his stock of matches, anx-
iously watching the preparations for
a fire and striving to fight back the
drowsiness overcoming him. Roger
swiftly gathered pile of leaves and
dead branches, but the leaves we're
moist with frost, the branches hard
and round and there was no knife
with which to whittle shavings, and
match after match spattered against
the incombustible fuel.
"You ought to have some paper"
said Barney. Il wish / had some;
that would set the fire going"
Roger held the last match in his
hand. There was a piece of paper
in his possession-iust one, and
that was the will of James Ather-
ton. He drew it forth and handed
it to Barney.
The afterglow of sunset shone
family into the mouth Of the cave
and the old man held the paper to-
ward the light, but it slipped from
his neryeless fingers and he fell back
in q stupor.
Roger wrung his hands. Should
he destroy the will to save the life
of the man who had oppressed his
father for SO many years and then
have that man deny that the will
had existed. II Barney had only
read the will and promised to re-
gard its provisions Roger would not
have feared to kindle the fire with
it, for Barney was a man of his
word. But now, If he would burn
the will, what proof could he give
| that it had existed:
| Roger stopped down to try the
last match against the soggy leave:
perhaps they would burn. The
match blazed, and some leaves driel
than the others fiared up for a mo.
ment, but then began to die dowr
slowly. Roger seized the viii, held
it toward the flames-then hesitat
ed. The lonely scream of an ow
sounded far off on the mountain
and from the recesses of the cave /;