The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1894-04-11

was time for me to be going. So I
marched from the scene. bidding Inkster
goodnight. and to the others waving my
hand, and crying:
IF there's a sheriff anywhere i'm these
blessed islands, I'll see his wig
III.
An hour later 1 found myself sitting
by an empty CRATE. with the teeth chat
tering in my head. I had been lost in
visions of uncertain morrOws, picturing
the fights and shifts and travels that
might befall me yet in Shetland; and
again, forgetting these, had seen away
across the dark wintry sea the lights of
Buckle harbOr and the red lamp Of Bell
Bowie's inn. Should 1 pay the money
after all? 1 knew "A crew that could
avenge me on the swindlers.
Suddenly my door-it had been off the
latch-was blown open. and the blast
that came in was loaded with snow
The house door closed with a bang; Har-
wick and Inkster had passed out Fine
weather, thought I, for a sail of fifty
miles in a wherry, And all at once
was seized with the suspicion that the
Fellows, in Offering to take me to Ler-
wick. had counted on our being driven
in by the cold before we were long at
sea, and 1 saw myself landed a little
way down the coast. or at some adjacent
isle. the victim of trap Would God
l had been Of simpler wits for then
perhaps l had yielded to the sore stress
of my situation, though in bitterness.
yet not in terror and alone. and reached
Lerwick, If not according to the compact,
at least without dead men for company.
g ha oil I
not have paid my bill to save my life.
But with my landladys "aff We go the
morn sticking in my mind, and knowing
that every house in the village would
De shut against me, | did not see my
course as far as another might. let alone
the times beyond. 1 resolved TO take
counsel with DIR. Wilson at once and as
soon as I heard the sound Of psalm-sing-
ing. for which I had waited, l slipped
out into the storm.
1t was no easy job to round the gable,
which was to the sea. Blown about and
blinded by the snow, I struck against
the corner, and had to feel along the
wall with my hands. In this way l saw
my room through the spy-window. a
figure swoopS to my trunk, opens ii,
glances in. locks 1t, and As gone! Ay.
my money is there. Thurson. They
stunned their singing and my battle with
the storm.
Going all the way with my shoulder
to the wind, l did not see the doctors
house till I was at the very gate. Save
for glimmer in the upper story. it was
dark. MY heart sank, for the doctors
habit was to get to bed in the small
hours, and if he was not sitting up he
must be either I'll with the drink, or
away from home. / hung about the
spot, feeding my sense of loneliness, and
letting the snow freeze in my hair. that
l might pity myself the more. Then
remembered that the housekeeper was
no Shetlander, but a native of Laurence
kirk Bent on telling my story to Mrs.
Gillanders. if her master was not to be
seen, / boldly rang the bell. The door
was opened Immediately and there stood
the doctor himself When he heard my
voice, he told me to come in; and / was
no sooner in the lobby than he pulled
me to the light and just looked at my
face.
Doctor 1 said. I'm needin' freen.
and if you're not the man, God help
mep'
Take off that coat" said he: land
your boots" he added. glancing down.
There never was such a gentleman
when he was sober. and he was notice
ably sober that night He set me in an
easy chair by the fire, and brought me
| a pair of slippers. I told him every
thing; but, though he listened to my
words and now and then put ques-
| ton. he took most interest in the pass
| book. AS he went through the pages
he would smile and talk to himself
Kidneys" l heard him saying. kid
neys, kidneys. Ay, Johns fond
Of kidneys" When at length he handed
me the book, he remarked that the ad-
dition was correct
We'll" said 1. there's no much else
correct; and ] was going into matters
when the doctor said quietly:
I'm sorry for you. Murray. but my
| advice to you is to pay the account
. doctor a d
II know. Still. you must pay it,
He made teddy for us both, and over
| the glass gave his arguments, mixed
with queer stories of the place 1 was in
| and the folk L was among.
What have YOU to expect from a law
| suit? You have no case; you can prove
| nothing; all the witnesses would be on
! the other side. Wait on the law. Muir
ray, and it's not nineteen, but ninety,
! pounds you'll be in for. before airs done
| And meanwhile there will be sore times
| for YOU You're not i'm Scotland. nv
friend: nor yet in Lerwick.'
After thinking for awhile, l said, sui
| lenly enough:
'Well. doctor. I'll give the money to
| YOU and you can pay them. To tell the
| truth, it's not in my blood 10 pass them
their blackmail; I'm afraid of what I
might do with that hand. If your lad
| can give me life as far as T. I'm
| off tomorrow And We may tell them
they'll be speired for next season by
/ the Buckle crews
I'm surprised, Murray, at your taking
a matter of few pounds so much to
heart
'"Ahi We would nae say that if We had
] to depend on the herrin'. But it's not
! the money; it's the imposition-the inn
position / repeated. all my anger
| coming back at the word. Il suppose
/ must submit, but have a mind to see
/ them damned first"
And with that 1 rose to go.
The doctor smiled, and began to stir
| his liquor absently.
There's one other way" he said. with
some hesitation.
/! He was silent for time | saw there
| was something working in his mind. At
/ last he muttered over his glass: It's
a pity about that trunk Of yours, -