Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-04-08
CHAPTER XVII.
Faith Is Restored.

throat He was walking be-
side Wild Bits head while Custer in
the cart tried to support Langham,
for the latter had not regained con-
| seriousness. Custer, I'm mighty well
satisfied with you; / may say that
while ] always have been proud of
you | am prouder this moment than
| ever hoped to be, How many boys
in Mount Hope, do you think, would
have the nerve to do what you just
done? I love nerve" concluded Mr..
Shrimplin with generous enthusiasm.
But Custer was silent, a sense of
bitter shame kept him mute.
Custer" said his father, in tim
| idly propitiatory tone, Il hope you
amt feeling stuck up about this"
Il wish it had never happenedi'
The boy spoke in an angry whisper.
You wish what had never hap
pened. CUSTER"
about you'll meant"
Shrimpin gave hollow little laugh.
We'll, and what about me, SON
f. | may be allowed to ask?'
II wish you'd gone down to the
crick bank like | wanted you tot" re-
joined the boy.
Again he felt the hot tears gather.
and drew the back of his hand across
his eyes. The little lamplghter had
been wishing this. too; indeed, 1t
would forever remain one OF the
griefs of his life that he had not done
so. He wondered miserably If the
old faith would ever renew itself.
. L.. 4 u L.
commonplace. but Clusters belief had
given him hours of high fellowship
with heroes and warriors; it had also
ninistered to the bloody mindedness
which lay somewhere back of that
auaking fear constitutional with linn,
and which he could no more control
than he could control his hunger or
thirst. His blinking eyelids loosed
solitary drop of moisture that slid
out To the tip of his hooked nose.
But though Mr.. Shrimplins physical
equipment was of the slightest for
the role in life he would have essayed
nature, which gives the hunted bird
and beast feather and fur to blend
with the russets and browns of the
forest and plain, had not dealt UNI
generously with him, since he could
believe that q lie long persisted in
gathered to itself the very soul and
substance of truth. Another hollow
little laugh escaped him.
Lord, Custer, l was foolin'-I am
always foolin'l 1t was my chance to
see the stuff that's in you. Well, it's
pretty good stuff" he added art
fully.
But Custer was not ready for the
reception of this new idea; MS
fathers display of cowardice had
seemed only too real to him. Yet the
little lamplighter's manner took on
confidence as he prepared to estab-
lish a few facts as a working basis
for their subsequent reconciliation.
I'D been a little better pleased.
son, if you'd gone quicker when you
heard them calls Mr.. Langham was
letting out; you did hang back, you'll
remember-it looked like you was de-
pending on me too much, but L got
no desire to rub this in. What you
done was nervy, and what l might
have looked for with the bringing-up
I've given you. I shan't mention that
YOU hung back" He shot glance
out of the corners of his bleached
blue eyes in Clusters direction How
many minutes do you suppose you
was in getting out of the cart and
over the fence? Not more than five,
I'd say, and all that time | was sit
ting there shaking with laughter-just
shaking with inward laughter;
asked you not to leave me alone!
Well. always was joker but con-
slider that my best joke!"
Custer maintained a stony silence,
vet he would have given anything
could he have accepted those pleas
ant fictions his father was seeking to
establish in the very habiliments of
| truth.
II hoped you'd know how to take a
| Joke. SOM" said the little lamplighter
in hurt tone.
Were you joking. sure enough"
asked Custer doubtingly.
as ii likely | could have been in
earnest?" demanded Shrimplin, hitch
| ing up his chin with an air of disdain.
Whats my record right here in
Mount Hope? Was it Andy Gilmore
or Colonel HARRISON that found old
man Mcbride when he was murdered
| in his store?" And the little lamp
lighters tone grew more and more in
dignant as he proceeded. Maybe you
think it was your disgustin' and dirty
Uncle Joe? I seem to remember 1t
was Bill Shrimplin, or do I just
dream 1 was there-but 1 amt been
called liar. not by no living man"
and he twirled an end of his dropping
taxen mustache between thumb and
forefinger. Facts is facts he
finished.
Everybody knows you found old
Mr. Mcbride" said Custer rather
eagerly.
didn't" replied Mr.. Shrimplin darkly.