Chapter VIII: Part 8

This article aroused people much more than the advertisement, and the talk was most general around town about this peculiar farmer. People became curious to go to Ash Point to see for themselves what the "specialist" would do and say, and to learn more about his methods of healing. The interest increased on Friday, especially among certain young men, who saw in Abner an object for considerable sport. Even staid business men, knowing something about Abner's odd ways, smiled to themselves, or discussed the matter with one another. They, too, longed for a little excitement, and when they mentioned it to their wives they found a ready response. Thus a number of the leading citizens of Glucom planned a trip to Ash Point Saturday evening. Of course they would not visit the man, but merely drive by, or stop and listen to what he had to say. It would be great fun, so they imagined.

It was Lawyer Rackshaw, however, who saw most in the advertisement. Here was a chance to get more than even with the man he hated. He was so elated that he invited Hen Whittles into his office Friday night, upon the special promise that there would be no more rats present. They drank, played cards, and discussed Abner Andrews.

"That man is crazy," Hen declared.

"Not crazy, but a fool," was the emphatic reply. "Only a fool would do what he has done, and to cap it all, to put such an ad. as that in the paper! But it's just what I need. My, it gives me a fine opening to get even with him."

"In what way?" Hen asked.

Rackshaw smiled as he threw down an ace, and then helped himself to another drink.

"Oh, I've a plan," he at length replied. "I'll fix that old fool this time, all right. He'll get patients he's not looking for."

"But do you think people will go to be treated?" Hen asked.

"Go? Sure, they'll go. Why, it's the talk of the town, as you must know."

"But, will sick people go?"

"Sure. I've been talking to several already, and they're so sick they can hardly get along. Ho, ho!" and Rackshaw leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

"Where's the joke?" Hen was becoming impatient now. "You seem to have something funny up your sleeve."

"I have. Listen."

"By Jove!" Hen exclaimed, when Rackshaw had explained his purpose. "That's a good one, all right. You're a wonder, for sure. I'd never have thought of that. Ha, ha, the old cuss will get more'n he bargains for if I'm not mistaken. But you must be careful though. Remember the rats."

"There'll be no come-back this time, mind you," was the decided reply. "I hold the trump cards in this game, so don't worry."

Zeb read the scathing editorial in the paper and smiled. He showed it to Abner and asked him what he thought of it.

"It's jist what I wanted," was the enthusiastic reply. "Jist what ye wanted!" Zeb exclaimed. "How de ye make that out?"

"Don't ye know? Haven't ye enough sense left to see wot that article will do? Why, it'll bring a hull crowd here Saturday night quicker'n anythin' else."

"H'm, so that's the way ye look at it, eh? But don't be too sure, Abner."

"Never ye mind about that, Zeb. I wish I was as sartin of goin' to heaven as I am of that gang comin'."

"Got ye'r tub all ready?" Zeb bantered. "An' what about ye'r laffin'-gas? Ye mustn't fergit that."

"An' 'ye'r brains,' why don't ye say? Yes, every dang thing's in shape, even me old shot-gun."

"De ye expect to have to use that?"

"One kin never tell. This dodge of mine is somethin' out of the ordinary, an' the crowd might git a bit unruly. It's jist as well to be on the safe side."

"Seems to me, Abner, the safest side fer you to-morrow night will be the other side of sun-down. I wish to goodness ye hadn't started this thing."

"Keep ye'r shirt on, Zeb, an' don't worry. But, there, I must git home an' see how me laffin'-gas is comin' along."

Saturday evening was bright and warm. Not a breath of wind was astir, and the river was like one huge mirror. But the people who came to Ash Point from Glucom were not thinking of such things. They were more concerned about seeing Abner Andrews and his method of healing than all the beautiful things of Nature. Had they been with Moses when he was tending the sheep, they would have been much more interested in watching two rams fighting than in studying the burning bush and heeding its divine message.

Abner was in the workshop, and Zeb was out on the road as director of ceremonies, or "office-boy" as Abner termed him, when the vanguard arrived. There were waggons and autos which went slowly by and then returned later. The occupants craned their necks in their efforts to see something out of the ordinary. Several made enquiries of Zeb, and when the latter pointed to the workshop, they laughed and went on their way.

This looked at first as if all intended to do the same, and Zeb chuckled as he thought of Abner's disappointment, and the fig of tobacco he would have to hand over.

At length, however, an auto, containing four young men and women, sped up the road and stopped near Zeb.

"Where is the specialist?" the driver laughingly enquired.

"Eight over there," and Zeb pointed to the workshop. "Go in that door."

"Queer office, that," was the reply. "A new stunt, eh?"

There was much laughing and joking as they moved away, and Zeb watched them with keen interest.

Abner was waiting to receive his patients, and had with much difficulty twisted his long legs into the tub by the time the visitors were at the door. By his side on the work-bench he had a number of ginger-beer bottles, all tightly corked. His face was wreathed with his most engaging smile as he motioned the young people to sit down.

"Glad to see yez," he told them, when they were at length seated upon the chairs Zeb had brought from his house. "Now what kin I do fer yez?"

"We're very sick," the driver explained, "and seeing your ad. in the paper, we've come to you for help."

With considerable difficulty his companions kept from laughing outright, and this Abner noted. But he pretended to be deeply concerned, and studied the four most critically.

"Yez sartinly do look sick," he agreed, "an' it's lucky that yez have come this evenin'. Now, what seems to be the matter, an' where is the trouble?"

"Eight here," and the spokesman placed his hand upon his heart in a most solemn manner.

"H'm, heart trouble, eh? Well, that's serious. Are yez all affected the same way?"

"Yes, all of us. We can't work or do anything, the attacks are so bad."

The young women were forced to turn away their heads at these words, while one stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth to keep from laughing outright.

"My, my!" and Abner thoughtfully stroked his chin. "But look here, young gal, it'll be ye'r stummick that'll be troublin' ye instid of ye'r heart if ye swaller that handkerchief. I can't do nuthin' with that kind of trouble."

The girl's face grew scarlet as she hurriedly withdrew her handkerchief, while her companions laughed heartily.

"Laff all yez like," Abner encouraged. "That's part of me cure. It's jist what yez need."

"But is that all you have to say about our real trouble?" the spokesman demanded.

"Well, now, first of all I want the fees. Twenty-five cents fer each; that'll make a dollar. Thank yez. That's better," he continued, as he slipped the hill into his pocket, "I kin now prescribe fer yez. But, remember, yez must follow the directions I give yez, or else yez'll git a dang sight worse than yez are at present."

"Fire ahead," was the reply. "We're all willing to do as you say."

"That's good. I allus like obedient patients. Now, the first thing I want yez to do is to go an' git two licences. Ye'll have to pay five dollars apiece fer 'em. The Government's more expensive than I am."

The young women now became visibly embarrassed, and wished that they had not come.

"The next thing yez must do," Abner went on, "is to go an' see some parson. Ye'll have to pay him, too, remember. But as fer curin' heart trouble any parson kin do it quicker'n anything yez ever saw. I had it afore I married Tildy, an' a bad attack it was. But after old Parson Shaw had hitched us together with that double an' twisted knot of his, I've never had a touch of heart trouble since. It sartinly did work wonders with me."

The consternation upon the faces of the patients was most amusing to Abner. He liked the way the girls blushed, and the young men turned red to the roots of their hair. He knew that they were merely out for fun and were getting more than they had expected.

"Don't go yit," he ordered, as he saw the young women move toward the door. "I haven't given yez the full prescription."

"But suppose the parson doesn't cure our heart trouble, what then?" the second young man at length found courage to ask. "It might not work on everyone as it did on you."

"Don't ye worry about that, young man," Abner replied. "The symptoms may hang on fer a while, but as soon as ye git several extra mouths to feed, ye'll find that all trouble will pass away. It did in my case, I know, an' I guess it'll be so with you."

By this time the girls were at the door, blushing more furiously than ever. They were far from enjoying the interview, and longed to be outside. The young men were about to follow, when Abner hailed them.

"Say, ye've fergot somethin'. I've given yez the prescriptions, but I'd like fer yez to take somethin' with yez to use when yez set up house-keepin'." Here he reached up and lifted a bottle from off the work-bench. "Now this is the greatest stuff out," he explained. "Jist keep it handy in the pantry or on the kitchen shelf where ye'll know where to find it in a jiffy. On wash days or when things go crooked jist open this an' take a little whiff, an' it'll make yez all good natured in no time. If the baby gits cranky or gits wind on its little stummick, all yez need do is to give it a smell of that bottle, an' ye'll be surprised to see how soon it'll begin to---- But, good gracious! What's wrong with them gals? They've gone, blamed if they ain't!"

They had all gone except the young man who had last spoken. He was angry, and expressed his opinion in no mild language. The young women had been insulted, so he said, and he called upon Abner to apologize.

"Apologize, eh?" was the reply. "What is there to apologize about? Yez came here in order to make fun of me, an' because I handed out wot was coinin' to yez I'm expected to apologize! Not on ye'r life, young man, an' ye kin jist tell them things to the one who sent yez."

"How do you know that anyone sent us?" the young man evasively queried.

"H'm, I'm not altogether a fool. I've a little brains left yit. Come now, on y'er word of honor, didn't Lawyer Rackshaw put yez up to this job?"

Abner smiled as the young man made no reply. He was certain now that his surmise had been correct, and he was satisfied.

"That'll do. Ye may go. Ye needn't answer if ye don't want to. But remember the prescriptions, an' also yours truly, Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."

The young man looked as if he would like to do more than express his feelings in words. But Abner seemed exceptionally big just then, as he lifted himself out of the tub and stood before him. He decided that retreat was the better part of valor, so in no enviable frame of mind he joined his companions who were waiting for him in the car. In a few seconds they were hurrying down the road, a defeated and angry quartet.

They had not gone far, however, when they met a truck filled with a number of reckless young men. They stopped, and in a few words aired their grievances. Shouts of laughter and cheers came from the new-comers.

"Well fix the old fellow," they shouted, as they hurried on. "Leave him to us."

Abner saw them coming, and hearing the noise they were making, knew what to expect. Peering through the little window facing the road, he watched them as they approached. Then in an instant a regular bombardment of balls of mud, rotten eggs, and stones were hurled at the building. One stone crashed through the window and struck Abner a glancing blow above the eye. With yells of delight the crowd passed and then all was still.

Abner's blood was now up. Seizing his shot-gun, he stood just within the door and waited. He saw Zeb coming toward him, and called to him to keep back.

"Let me handle the bunch," he shouted. "I'll fix 'em."

"Be careful," was the reply. "Don't shoot. Here they come agin."

As the car was almost opposite the workshop, and the youths were about to make another bombardment, Abner stepped quickly out of the building and ordered them to stop. As the driver hesitated for an instant, Abner threw his gun into position and threatened to shoot if he did not obey. This had the desired effect, and soon the car was motionless.

The occupants were speechless, and their faces betrayed their complete consternation at this sudden turn of affairs. They dropped the eggs, mud, and stones they had ready to hurl, and stared at the man with the gun.

"Why don't yez go ahead?" Abner asked. "Now's ye'r chance. Tired of ye'r fun, eh? Well, then, jist hop out an' run that Tin-Lizzie into the yard here. Git a hustle on," he ordered, as the youths hesitated.

Seeing that Abner meant business, the joy-riders scrambled out and stood in the road while the car was run into the yard.

"There, that's better," was Abner's comment, when this had been accomplished. "Now, yez kin hustle."

"But what about the car?" the driver asked, as he alighted. "It doesn't belong to us. We hired it."

"Yez did, eh? Well, then, it's safer here than with sich reckless kids. Scoot along now. I'll keep the car fer damages rendered to that buildin' an' to my dignity."

"Damages!" the driver exclaimed. "Why, we were only having a little fun."

"Is that so? Fun, was it? Well, ye'r fun'll cost ye jist five dollars apiece, an' not a cent less. I'm a specialist, ye see, on all kinds of diseases. You fellers are troubled with swelled heads an' want of brains, so five dollars out of y'er inside pockets will be the best cure that I kin recommend."

By this time the joy-riders were very angry, and their language was far from Scriptural. They vowed that they wouldn't pay a cent, and that they would have Abner arrested for threatening to shoot them.

"Go ahead," Abner announced. "But before yez git ye'r Tin-Lizzie ye'll fork out that money. I'll give yez jist five minutes to make up ye'r minds. Come here, Zeb," he called. "I might want ye."

The young men were now in a fix, and they discussed the matter in an excited manner.

"We haven't the money," they at length announced.

"All right, then, me hearties, I'll keep the car."

"Will you take two dollars apiece?" Abner was asked.

"It's five or nuthin'," was the reply. "Hustle up there, fer time's most up."

Finding that their captor was relentless, with many protests and threatening words the needed forty dollars were at length produced and handed forth.

"There, that's better," Abner chuckled, as he pocketed the money. "There's ye'r car, so take it an' git."

Abner and Zeb stood and watched the crestfallen joyriders as they scrambled on board.

"Don't fer git to send in ye'r bill to ye'r lawyer," Abner called out, as the visitors sped away. He then turned to his companion.

"Where's that plug of T. & B, Zeb?" he asked. "I'm dyin' fer a smoke. Me nerves are pretty shaky.

"I don't believe ye have sich things as nerves," Zeb replied, as he pulled a fig of tobacco from his pocket. "How in the name of all creation kin ye do sich things??

"Brains, gall, an' luck, that's how, with a little laffin'-gas thrown in. Ho, ho! But, say, there's Tildy an the gals!"

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*A SERMON WITH A PUNCH*

"We are going to church in town to-night," Mrs. Andrews announced the next day when dinner was over. She and Abner were alone, for Jess and Belle were out for a ramble with the boys.

"That's good," Abner replied, as he filled his pipe. "I'll look after the kids."

"But you're goin', too, Abner."

"Me!"

"Yes, you. If anyone needs to go to church it is you after what you did yesterday. The burden of your many sins must be pretty heavy by this time. I am thoroughly ashamed of you. What in the world possessed you to do such a thing?"

"Brains, gall, an' luck, as I've informed ye before."

"I don't see what they had to do with it. You have the gall all right, and luck helped you out. But you might have used your brains to a far better advantage. You were never like any man I ever knew, and you're getting worse all the time."

"Tildy, I'm not like other men." Abner blew out a match and looked thoughtfully at his wife. "I couldn't be like other men if I tried. The Lord didn't build me that way. I guess He got so tired making so many men alike, who all do an' say the right things, that when He came to me He gave a different twist to my make-up. He was experimentin' on Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint."

"H'm, if He did, then I don't believe He's ever tried it again."

"Mebbe not, Tildy. But He might do worse. Now look here, I'm different from most men, I acknowledge. But in what way? I'll tell ye, if ye don't know. I'm not afraid to speak me mind when necessary, an' fight like the divil aginst a bunch of grafters, an' git more'n even with 'em if I kin. I enjoy a bit of fun now an' then."

"Queer fun you like, it seems to me," his wife retorted.

"Mebbe so. But fun with no punch in it is no fun at all to my way of thinkin'."

"To hurt the feelings of others; that's the kind of fun you like."

"Don't be so sure of that. I have never hurt a fly in fun, remember, an' hope I never shall. But when it comes to Rackshaw, Ikey Dimock, an' a bunch sich as came from Glucom yesterday, then I'm willin' to see 'em squirm under me fun. Them's my religious convictions, though mebbe they don't altogether jibe with wot ye hear at church."

"Indeed they don't," was the emphatic reply. "And that's the reason why you must go to church to-night. There's a new man at St. Felix, and I understand he is a wonder. He is not afraid to speak his mind, and he always talks about present-day affairs. The church is crowded to the doors every Sunday night, so I have heard."

"Say, Tildy, I wonder if they have made up their minds in that church yit who is to say the 'Amen'? They were in a great way about it the last time I was there, nigh three years ago."

"What do you mean, Abner?"

"Oh, don't ye remember? When the parson got through with his prayin' the choir kicked up a terrible fuss as to who was to say 'Amen.' One young woman, with a big feather in her hat, lifted up her voice an' said it all right to my way of thinkin'. But no sir-ree, that didn't suit a feller behind her, so he growled out another 'Amen.' An' jimmy-crickets! no sooner was he done than two more said it, each in a different way. Then they started it all together, an' sich a time as they had over it! It was 'Amen! A-men! A-A-men!!! A-A-A-Amen!!!, an' last of all a big 'Amen' that nearly took the roof off the buildin'. I don't know to this day who won out, but I imagine there was some high talkin' an' hair-pullin' when church was over."

"Why, don't you know that they were singing?" Mrs. Andrews asked. "They were not fighting over it. I thought it was most beautiful, and so did others."

"So I've heard ye say, Tildy. But, my, it sounded funny to me, an' it didn't seem altogether becomin' to scramble sich as they did fer that word in a sacred buildin'. I ain't been back there since."

"And nowhere else," was the retort. "You're worse than a heathen, Abner Andrews, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You must go to-night, though, and then perhaps you'll get the habit."

Abner sighed and blew forth several great clouds of smoke.

"My, that's great terbaccer I got from Zeb yesterday," he remarked. "Don't know what I'd a done if I hadn't won that bet."

"I wish you'd stop betting, Abner. Mr. Parker, that new minister at St. Felix, preached a great sermon on the subject recently, so Julia Tomkins told me."

"He did, eh? What did he say?"

"I don't know all, but he laid it down pretty plain that it was a fearful sin, and that money raised that way was dishonest. It was 'tainted,' so he said, and he would have nothing to do with it."

"Is that what he said? Well, that's interestin'. I wonder if he knows that quite a bunch of his flock, Ikey Dimock, Hen Whittles, an' sich like, put tainted money into the plate every Sunday? I bet ye'r life he doesn't turn a cent down. I'd like to see that new parson. Guess I'll go to church. He might hand out something spicy to-night, an' I'd like to see how the 'holy ones' of his flock take it. But who'll look after the kids, Tildy, if I go?"

"I've arranged with Mrs. Zeb to look after them," was the reply, "She and Zeb like the boys, and it will be a change for them to have children around the house for an afternoon."

"We'll have to start early, Tildy. Jerry ain't as spry as he used to be. He's not been to town fer a day or two, an' he's pinin' fer the yell of an en-gine."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Abner, that Mr. Royden is to take us in his car. We are to go to the hotel for supper. Belle has invited us, and she is determined that we shall all go."

"She has, eh? Well, that's nice of her. I was afraid when ye mentioned supper at the hotel that I'd have to foot the bill. Belle's some gal, she sure is. Yes, I guess I'll go. But, my, I do hate to dress up in all me finery. This style bizness gits on me nerves."

Abner enjoyed himself that evening at the hotel, and when dinner was over he and Royden went into the smoking-room.

"This is sartinly comfort," he remarked as he settled himself back in one of the big chairs. "There's some class to us, eh? Might think we had some soft government job, or were politicians, fer that matter."

"You are happier as you are, Mr. Andrews," Royden replied, as he touched a match to his cigar. "Politicians seem to me to be the men we should least envy."

"Ye don't tell! Why, I thought they had a cinch."

"You're mistaken, then, so far as I have seen. A politician is very uncertain of his position; he has all sorts and conditions of people to meet and keep in good humor, and has to make promises which he knows he can never fulfil. He is subjected to all kinds of criticisms, no matter what he does, for his opponents are watching him with jealous and envious eyes. Politics is a great game when rightly played, but sad to say it has degenerated into mud-throwing and a wild scramble for money and position."

"That's what it is to-day, young man," Abner replied. "There's nuthin' noble about it in this province, let me tell ye that. The politicians I know are like so many hawks flyin' here an' there, seekin' to grab all they kin find. Look at them heelers who are tryin' to git my gravel hill. But I gave 'em somethin' they won't fergit in a hurry."

"You must be always on your guard, Mr. Andrews," Royden warned. "If they can't get you one way they will try other means. They have the pull, you see. Election day is near, and they can't afford to lose much time."

"Let 'em pull all they want to. I guess I kin pull, too, when it comes to that. Say, that's a fine smoke," and Abner looked at the cigar he had just taken from between his teeth. "It's as good as Rackshaw's. De ye smoke this kind often?"

"Very rarely. These are special ones for to-night. We must celebrate a little on an event like this."

The men thus talked and smoked until it was time to go to church. Abner was inclined to remain where he was, but Mrs. Andrews would not listen to him.

"You've come to town to go to church, and going you are," she declared. "I've got you this far, and you shall not go back now."

"But I feel sleepy, Tildy, an' would like to have a nap," Abner pleaded.

"Well, sleep in church, then, providing you don't snore."

"Jist the thing," and Abner rose with alacrity. "I've often said the best part of goin' to church is the fine sleep one kin git durin' the sermon."

When they reached the church they were surprised to find the building almost full, and only with difficulty were they able to obtain a place where they all could sit together. Before the service began every seat was taken, and people were standing in the aisles.

"Guess there must be somethin' hot on to-night, Tildy," Abner whispered. "I never saw sich a crowd at church before. Ye'd think this was a movin'-picture house."

Abner paid little attention to the first part of the service. It was all somewhat unintelligible to him, and he found the prayers and hymns very long. He was interested, however, in observing the people in the church, especially the familiar forms of Isaac Dimock and Henry Whittles, who were sitting well up in front. But this diversion soon lost its charm, and he longed to be back at Ash Point talking with Zeb Burns. He wondered how long it would be before the sermon, and if that did not interest him he could go to sleep. Tildy would keep him from snoring, he had no doubt about that.

Abner watched the clergyman as he went into the pulpit, and he wondered what there was about him which attracted such large congregations. He was somewhat enlightened when the text, "I have played the fool," was announced. He was wide awake now and did not feel one bit sleepy. He wanted to know what the speaker would make out of those words. He had not long to wait, for soon the minister was telling about King Saul, destined for such noble things and yet acting in such a selfish and ridiculous way that he was forced to utter the words, "I have played the fool."

The speaker applied the lesson to present-day affairs, and asked if there were not many people who were playing the fool like that king of old. They were endowed with various talents, and yet they were either making wrong use of them, or wasting them in senseless ways.

"I come now," he at length said, "to the main question up to which my words have been leading. We call ourselves Christian men and women, and we are so self-satisfied that we cannot see how little we are really doing, nor how far we are from Him whom we call Master. There are things in our very community which should make us blush for shame. One of these is the criminal neglect of the destitute children. What has been done for them? An effort was made a short time ago to erect a Home for needy orphans. But what has become of the plans? Nothing. We have played the fool, and in the meantime the destitute ones have been suffering."

The speaker paused for a few seconds, and looked around. Everyone was almost breathless, waiting to hear his next word, Abner, too, was keenly alert. He was glad that he had come, for he was greatly interested. Here was a man, so he thought, who knew what he was talking about, and was not afraid to express his views.

"During the last few days," the speaker continued, "this town has been much stirred over the peculiar antics of a man living about five miles from here. He has been doing peculiar things of late, and it is the general opinion that the man is a fool or crazy. I have heard people laughing and talking about him, and wondering what idiotic thing he would do next."

Abner's eyes now were fairly starting out of his head, and he leaned forward so as not to miss the slightest word. "What in the world is the man drivin' at?" he asked himself.

"But while most of you have been joking about that farmer at Ash Point, and considering him a fool," the speaker went on, "I have been studying the other side of the question. I have learned that he bears a good name along the river, and although he is impetuous at times, and is not afraid to speak his mind like a man should, yet he is highly respected and minds his own business when he is let alone. He was arrested a short time ago, and placed in jail. And why? For thrashing a man who wrote a libellous article in _The Live Wire_ about his wife. I would have done the same myself, as would any man, unless he were an arrant coward. You have been calling that man a miscreant and a fool, but let me tell you what he has done. He offered a thousand dollars toward the building of a Home for orphan children. But he has not paid it, some might say. No, certainly not, and for a very good reason. He had sense enough not to put that money into a dump-heap, where it was proposed to build the Home, when there are excellent sites right in this town. His one idea was to do something for helpless children, and not to help a man sell a piece of ground which was absolutely useless for anything else except a dump."

Abner almost emitted a chuckle, as he turned and looked at Henry Whittles, whose face was very red, and who was writhing under the minister's scathing words. Others were looking at him, too, for all knew that he was the man referred to by the clergyman.

"But what has that man you call a fool done?" the speaker asked. "If you do not know, let me tell you. When he found that the people of this town were playing the fool, and doing nothing toward the erection of an Orphan Home, he took into his own house five destitute children, all boys. He and his family are caring for them, and are doing all in their power for those little ones. The children are decently clothed, well fed and happy. And all that from people who have very little of this world's goods, depending entirely upon a poor gravel farm for their living. Let me now ask who have played the fool: that farmer and his family, or the people of this town?"

It was quite evident that his message was stirring the entire congregation, and there was considerable whispering here and there. This was noted by the minister, and he knew that his words were having their desired effect. But he had more to say, and continued:

"You were all much interested this last week in that farmer's peculiar advertisement in the paper, which brought forth such a scathing editorial. A number of people, I believe, went to Ash Point yesterday to have fun at Mr. Andrews' expense. But they came back wiser than they went, having learned a very useful and salutary lesson, which, I trust, they will not soon forget. Now, was that advertisement the work of a fool or of a madman? I believe not. If I understand rightly, Mr. Andrews took that method of testing the people of this town. They would take but little interest in the welfare of helpless children, and would not even go to see how they were getting along. But they would travel miles to see a man perform in a wash-tub and say funny things. That is my conclusion, and I feel that I am right. Mr. Andrews is far from being a fool, even though he follows the method of Diogenes, that famous actor and wit of olden days."

Again he paused and looked quizzically around.

"I see you are getting restless," he resumed, "and I know that some of you have made up your minds never to come to this church again, and if possible to starve me out. You may go ahead and say and do what you like. Starve me if you wish, but I appeal to you in my Master's name not to let His little ones starve or go homeless. Take the burden off the shoulders of that worthy farmer at Ash Point. Provide a place for those children and others like them in this very town. A big building is not necessary just now. A house large enough can surely be secured for them at a reasonable expense, and I have every reason to believe that the Government will give some assistance, and if so the matter should be easily arranged. But there should be no delay. I hope the people of this town will get together at once. We have been playing the fool in the past; let us now see that we do it no longer."

When the sermon was ended, Abner slipped quietly out of the church. He did not wish to meet the people when the service was over. He wanted to be alone that he might think about all that he had heard. He made his way back to the hotel, and sat down in the smoking-room. It was there that Jess found him some time later, smoking and gazing thoughtfully out of the window. There was no one else in the room.

"You didn't go to sleep after all, did you, daddy?" she accosted, while her face beamed with joy.

Abner slowly took the pipe from his mouth, and looked at his daughter. There was a peculiar expression upon his face and a mistiness in his eyes.

"No, Jess, I didn't go to sleep," he drawled. "But I guess them kids at home'll be sleepy if we don't hustle back. An' say, I fergot to tell Zeb to feed Jerry, blamed if I didn't."

*CHAPTER XXVIII*

*THE HOLD-UP*

There was great discussion over the sermon preached at St. Felix Sunday night. Several people were very angry at the outspoken words, among whom was Henry Whittles. He made haste to see Lawyer Rackshaw, and poured out to him his troubles, and how he had been grossly insulted.

"It serves you right," was the unsympathetic reply he received. "If you will insist upon going to church you must not complain at what is handed out to you. I've cut loose from all such superstitious and sentimental gush, and I advise you to do the same."

"I intend to do so while that idiot is there," Whittles declared. "And to think that Abner Andrews was at church, too."

"He was!" and the lawyer looked his astonishment.

"Yes; and his family as well. Miss Rivers, the Attorney General's daughter, was with them, too, so I believe. Abner will have something to chuckle over now, all right."

"Let him chuckle, Hen. He won't do it long. Just wait till that trial comes off."

"When is that?"

"Pretty soon now. He'll chuckle on the other side of his face."

"But Parker upheld Abner in what he did. He said that any man who was not a coward would have done the same if Joe Preston had written such an article about his wife. In fact, he confessed that he would have done so himself if he had been in Abner's place."

"He said that, did he?"

"He certainly did, and if I'm not much mistaken his words will have a strong influence. It will be necessary for you to be on your guard."

Rackshaw made no reply, but sat and gazed thoughtfully out of the office window. In truth he sat there for some time after Whittles had left, and he seemed in no hurry to go on with his business.

_The Live Wire_ made a great deal of the sermon, and scored Mr. Parker for going beyond bounds. It was the duty of a clergyman to preach the Gospel, so the paper piously announced, and to leave civic matters alone. It also hinted that a clergyman was very short-sighted who antagonized members of his flock, who were liberal supporters of his church. Mr. Parker had done this, and accordingly must expect to put up with the results. The real vital matter of a suitable Home for orphans was not mentioned, and no credit was given the Andrews for what they had done. This oversight was noted by many readers and severely criticized. In fact, the editorial did a great deal for Abner, far more than the writer imagined. It made thinking people realize how partisan and narrow it really was, and that the welfare of the community was not its main object.

This was brought out, too, in the accounts it gave of the coming election. The men it advocated were known to be unscrupulous grafters, who had carried on wholesale robbery for several years in connection with various government deals. A long description was given of a great political picnic, which was to be held that afternoon in the Parish of Granton on the opposite side of the river from Ash Point. The members of the county would be present, and there would also be several noted speakers. All were urged to attend, and to hear the "truth, and nothing but the truth."

Zeb Burns read these articles to Abner as they sat after dinner under the shade of a big maple tree near the workshop.

"Seems to me that paper's tryin' to knife that parson as well as me," Abner remarked, as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"An' I guess it'll meet with about as much success," Zeb replied. "I wish I'd heard that sermon last night, Abner. It must have been a corker."

"It sure was, an' I never thought once of goin' to sleep. But ye should have seen Hen Whittles' face an' ears. Why, they was as red as the reddest beet I ever saw. Say, there goes the _Bluebird_, and he motioned to a steamer out upon the river. Wonder why she's up so early to-day."

"Fer the picnic, of course," Zeb explained. "She's black with people. They've come fer the peanuts, kill-at-first-taste cigars, lemonade, an' hot air. There's to be some great speeches over there this afternoon. How'd ye like to run across in ye'r yacht, Abner? Ye haven't had her out fer a long time."

"That's true. I've been too busy ashore. But I wouldn't go to that picnic fer a good deal. I don't want me morals spiled. All the gas-bags in the province couldn't change me, 'specially them fellers who are to speak this afternoon."

"They'll be after ye to vote fer 'em, though."

"Not on ye'r life. They think I'm luney an' too hard to talk to. Ho, ho, wasn't it funny the way they looked when they learned that we wasn't deaf after all?"

"Mebbe they'll hear about that sermon, an' they might change their minds."

"Sure, sure, ye kin never tell what people'll do. It's made a great difference at my house, anyway."

"It has? In what way?"

"Oh, I can't jist explain. But Tildy isn't nigh so cranky, an' Jess looks very happy. It may be that young feller who comes to see her, though I don't believe that's the full reason. They was all mighty sot up the way that parson stood up fer me last night."

"But how did he know so much about ye, Abner?"

"Blamed if I know. That's been puzzlin' me a great deal. Where he got all that information, an' had my mind turned inside out is more 'n I kin understand. Why, I never spoke to that feller in my life an' he seems to know me like a book."

Scarcely had Abner finished speaking when an auto swung up the road at a fast clip. It was about to pass when the chauffeur suddenly pulled up in front of the big maple. There were three men in the car besides the driver, and they were the very ones who had come to buy the gravel hill. They seemed to be in a great hurry.

"Good-day, gentlemen," the spokesman, Thomas Dillman, accosted. "Can you tell us what time the steamer from the city arrives here?"

"She's already arrived," Abner replied.

"Arrived! But she's not due here for half an hour yet."

"Can't help that. She's arrived an' gone. That's her smoke 'way up there," and Abner pointed up the river.

Exclamations of consternation burst from the three men at this information, followed by strong denunciatory language.

"What in the devil is the meaning of all this? Dillman demanded, looking fiercely at Abner, as if he were the cause of the trouble.

"Search me," was the reply. "Ye'll have to go an find out fer ye'rselves. I'm not runnin' the steamer nor the picnic."

"But we must be at that picnic," the man insisted. "It is absolutely necessary for us to be there. We are to speak, and the people will be expecting us. Confound that steamer! I shall certainly make it hot for the company. It has a government subsidy, too, and to think that we should be treated this way!

"That ain't nuthin' new," Abner explained. "We're more'n used to sich capers. That boat never knows her own mind. She comes an' goes any old time, an' doesn't mind one dang bit how people are put out. I'm mighty glad yez have got a good dose to-day."

"You are!" Dillman indignantly retorted. "You're a nice one. But this is not getting us over the river. How in blazes are we to get there? That's the important thing just now. Isn't there a boat we can hire?"

"S'pose you run 'em over, Abner," Zeb suggested.

"Have you a boat?" Dillman eagerly asked.

"Sure, three of 'em. Now, there's the canoe, the flat-bottomed boat, an'----"

"Oh, never mind telling us about them," Dillman impatiently interrupted. "Get us there; that's all we want. We'll make it worth your while."

Abner knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rose slowly to his feet.

"Jist wait a minute till I git me oars," he told them. "I guess I kin take yez."

There was a peculiar light shining in his eyes as he hurried into the house and returned a few minutes later. No one noticed that he had donned his coat, and that it was buttoned about him in a strange manner. Room was made for him in the car, and, telling the chauffeur where to go, in a few minutes they were at the shore on the upper side of the point. A short distance away the _Scud_ was tugging at her anchor, for a stiff breeze was blowing in from the west. The tender was pulled up on the shore.

"Hop in," Abner ordered, "an' set still, all of yez."

It took them but a few minutes to board the _Scud_ and get under way. A rude craft was this yacht which Abner had made with his own hands. She was small and her cock-pit was barely large enough to hold the three men. Here they crowded together and looked ruefully around. They were not accustomed to the water, and when the wind had filled her sail and the yacht began to careen to one side, they almost wished that they had never come. For a while the _Scud_ glided steadily along, being somewhat sheltered by the point. But when once beyond this the full force of the breeze caught the boat, and the spray began to dash aboard. The three passengers clutched hard at the sides of the cock-pit, and looked anxiously around.

"Is this blooming thing safe?" one of the men gasped, when a larger spray than usual flung itself over them.

"Sometimes she is an' sometimes she isn't," was the laconic reply. "Kin yez swim?"

The three men shook their heads.

"That's too bad."

"Why, what do you mean?" Dillman asked. "Do you think she'll upset?"

"Can't say," Abner drawled. "Ye never jist know what queer kinks the _Scud'll_ take. Only last month she played one of her funny pranks, an' upsot right near here with a wind no harder'n this."

"She did!" and the men's faces became suddenly white. "What did you do?" one of them anxiously enquired.

"Oh, jist climbed on her bottom until she drifted ashore. That ain't nuthin' fer me. I'm used to the water, an' could swim all day if I had to."

The man made no reply, but clutched the sides harder than ever as the waves increased.

"Yes," Abner continued, "this is a bad place when the tide's runnin' down an' the wind's blowin' up. Two men were drowned right out here a few years ago. They was in a bigger sailin' boat than this when a sudden squall struck her, an' she flopped right over. They couldn't swim, ye see. That's a bad piece of water ahead where ye see them white-caps. I have me doubts about gittin' through."

"Don't go through," the men begged. "For God's sake go back! We've had enough of this."

A gleam of triumph now shone in Abner's eyes. He gave the tiller a vigorous twist and brought the _Scud_ full head to the wind.

"So yez don't want to go through, eh?" he queried.

"No, no. Go back."

"Well, I don't have to go through them white-caps, so what's ye'r terms if I go round 'em?"

"Terms! What do you mean?" Dillman gasped.

"Guess you fellers should know, all right. I want a settlement fer me gravel hill. That's what I mean, an' I intend to have it now."

The men understood most clearly the purport of these words, and their hearts became hot with anger. They realized the helplessness of their position, and how they were at the mercy of this man.

"You're a villain!" Dillman roared. "Do you think it's fair to get us into a tight corner and then hold us up like this?"

"De ye like it?" Abner asked with a chuckle. "How does it feel? Ye know now, don't ye? Ye'r tryin' to do the same with me, an' ye'r jist waitin' the first chance to steal me place. But, by jiminy, ye'll not do it as soon as ye think, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if ye will. I've got yez here, an' here I'll keep yez till ye come to me terms."

"Good gracious, man!" Dillman exploded, "we can't do anything here. Wait until we get ashore and we'll talk this matter over with you."

"Not by a long chalk. Jist write out that ye'll give me fifteen thousand dollars fer that place, an' I'll land yez at the picnic grounds in no time. But yez better hurry up, fer the _Scud's_ drifting fast toward them white-caps. Guess, though, I kin hold her nose up stiddy ferninst the wind a few minutes longer."

Dillman looked at the rough water, and then at the imperious commander.

"If this boat overturns," he at length remarked, "you'll go down, too, for you can't surely swim in a place like this."

Abner laughed, and threw open his coat.

"Look," he cried. "I've got a life-belt on. I never come here on a windy day without it."

The three men were now completely stumped and they looked imploringly around. But no help was in sight. A short distance away the water was raging where the wind and the tide were contending with each other.

"Hurry up," Abner ordered, "the _Scud'll_ soon take them white-caps full astern, an' then good-bye."

Dillman's hand clawed at a note-book and fountain-pen in his vest pocket. He hesitated, however, and looked at his companions.

"Go ahead, Tom," they advised, "there's nothing else to do."

But Tom delayed, leaned over and whispered something to his comrades in distress. Abner could not hear what was said, though he noticed that they nodded their heads in approval.

"Say, we'll offer you five thousand," Dillman at once announced.

"Fifteen thousand or nuthin'," was the peremptory order. "You government fellers think nuthin' of throwin' that much around, an' a darned sight more, when it suits yez. I might as well have what's due me. Hurry up. Ye've got no time to waste."

With trembling hand Dillman put his pen to the paper, and rapidly wrote.

"How will that do?" he presently asked, handing the paper to Abner.

"Read it," was the order. "Me eyes are not good, an' it's all I kin do to handle the boat."

"'On behalf of the local government,'" Dillman read, "'we agree to give Abner Andrews fifteen thousand dollars for his place at Ash Point.'"

"That's good," was Abner's comment. "Now, sign it, the three of yez."

This was soon done, and in a few seconds the paper was placed in Abner's hand. The three men anxiously watched to see whether their captor would look at it, and they breathed more freely when he thrust it at once into his pocket without even a glance in its direction.

Abner at once threw over the tiller and the _Scud_ swung around. Her sail filled, and she darted forward as if glad of her release. The wind had now increased, but the yacht, running dead before it, bore herself bravely. On and on they sped until at length the big picnic tent near the shore could be seen showing white amid its setting of verdant grass and waving trees. Ere long they could discern people moving about, and as they drew near the shore they could see that it was lined with people who had hurried down to watch the superior movements of the little craft, reeling onward, at times half smothered by the leaping waves.

With his passengers landed, Abner at once headed for home. He wondered why the politicians were so affable and had bidden him such a cheery good-bye. They did not seem one bit angry, and he saw them laughing and talking with one another as he sped away.

"Let 'em laff," he mused, "I've got the paper," and he thrust his hand into his pocket to be sure it was safe. "They can't fool Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, not by a jugful, skiddy-me-shins if they kin."

*CHAPTER XXIX*

*COUNSEL FOR THE DEFENSE*

It was a great story Abner had to tell that night at supper. The boys, who always ate early, were playing out in the yard, and the sound of their laughter drifted in through the open window. Abner told nothing about what he had demanded of the three men, but merely of the fright he had given them.

"Ye should've seen their faces," he chuckled. "They thought fer sure that I was goin' to swamp 'em in them white-caps. My, how they begged me to go back!"

"It was a shameful thing to do," Mrs. Andrews declared. "They will never forgive you, and they are government members at that."

But Belle did not consider it in that light. She was highly amused, and her eyes danced with merriment.

"Don't you worry, Mrs. Andrews," she said. "It will take more than that before those men get all that's coming to them. I know who they are from Mr. Andrews' description, for daddy has often told me about them. They have been a great worry to him for years, and I can imagine how he will laugh when I tell him how they were frightened. Daddy doesn't approve of such schemes, for I have often heard him say so."