The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1900-03-16

would have said the man felt his fate
hanging upon the answer which the
young girl should give to his question:
''Are you afraid of me?"
"Afraid?" repeated Jenny, with gen.
tie surprise. "Why should be afraid?
Surely you wouldn't do any harm to
Tony or me?"
mo more would I, so help me
Heaven!"
The man rose, stretching himself to
his full height, like one relieved from
some crushing weight.
"And now, my girl, if you will, you
may give me some of the pork and
beans you spoke about. They're
mighty warming on night like this"
Jenny sprang to do his bidding with
pleased alacrity, setting a bountiful
portion upon the table, and drawing a
chair beside it.
81 can't see why father don't come"
she said, anxiously.
A curious expression fitted across
the mans face.
Don't you fret, child" he answered.
The SHOWS drifted badly, and it would
be nothing strange if they had to stop
somewhere on the road and wait till
morning. But you never mind; I'll at
tend to everything. You've got cattle
and things to look after, / suppose.
I'll feed 'em for you, and then I'll bring
in another log or two for the fire"
"How good you are, sir! I know
father will thank you thousand
times"
"Thank me yourself, child! I'm not
doing it for your father It's long since
I've had occasion to be thanked, and
the words have a sweet sound"
He opened the door and went out
through the binding snow.
Returning half hour later, he care
fully replenished the fire, rabing the
Goals together till the red blaze
mounted high in the great chimney.
Then he caught Tony in his arms
once more, making him laugh with II
merry story, before Jenny carried him
off to bed.
''Theres no use expecting your folks
tonight" said the stranger, when
Jenny reappeared, having left her lit.
tie charge quietly sleeping. THE
storm grows harder every minute.
But they'll be here bright and early in
the morning, never fear. You go and
lie down with the boy, and I'll just
camp here in front of the fire."
"But you won't be comfortable, sir"
"Comfortable! I'll get the sweetest
rest I've had for many long night"
Jenny did as she was hidden. Still
dressed, she threw herself upon the bed
beside her little brother.
It was long before she slept, for as
the snow beat against the window
panes she could not repress sharp
anxiety for the safety of those she
loved.
"What should have done if this man
had not Gomez" she asked herself
again and again. "He seems so
strange; but he is very, very kind"
She lost consciousness at last, and
when she awoke, the sun was already
shining in at the eastern window.
She sprang up hastily, scarcely able
to collect her scattered memories OF
the night of storm.
Hank! Could it be? It was!-the
sound of slowly tinkling bells ap.
preaching through the still air.
"They are coming!" she cried, joy
fully, and ran into the adjoining room.
1t was empty, and the fire smoldered
low upon the hearth. Her visitor had
gone, unannounced and sudden as he
had come.
'And he had no breakfast" mourned
poor Jenny. "How shameful of me tu
sleep like this!"
She flung open the door just as her
fathers sleigh appeared in sight, the
stout horses struggling bravely
through the unbroken drifts.
A cheerful halloo rang out, answered
by her own joyful voice.
The sleigh reached the door, and in
moment Jenny was in her fathers
| arms.
"My poor little girl! Thank God.
you are safe! was wild with fear for
you-all alone in the stormy night"
"But wasn't alone. father. A man
came here, and he was so kind! He fed
the cattle, and made my fire; but-onl7
think!-I slept so late that he went
away without any breakfast" II
The father and son looked at each
| other. II
"What is that?" cried Jenny, glanc-
| ing at the table. 81 do believe he left
a letter! Yes-and directed to you,
| father!''
Mechanically the father unfolded the
bit of paper, and this is what he real:
ct knew of the money you took from the
express office last week at Millville
| have been watching my opportunity ald
| when you rode away to-day followed you,
| and cut down the big trees which YOU
| found across your road as you came back.
| 81 did this to gain time, for I knew y1u
| could never cut your way around before
| morning.
IT came here to rob you. Your children
| trusted me. The boy is like one that re-
| member. If they had been afraid Of ne,
| should have found your money and gone
away. You will think it foolish, but it
came to me that if there was something
| left in me that an innocent child could
| trust, perhaps it was enough for the be-
ginning-just the beginning-of a better
man.
JACK CARNIGAN.'
Tho fathers face grew ashy pale,
and the paper fell from his hand