el came up.

The colonel stood a moment and looked at the machine.

"It's quite ingenious," he said. "Explain the principle."

Ben described the mechanism, in brief, well-chosen words which
conveyed the thought clearly and concisely, and revealed a fine mind
for mechanics and at the same time an absolute lack of technical
knowledge.

"It would never be of any use, sir," he said, at the end, "for
everybody has the other kind. But it's another way, and I think a
better."

"It is clever," said the colonel thoughtfully, as he went into the
house.

The colonel had not changed his mind at all since asking Miss Laura to
be his wife. The glow of happiness still warmed her cheek, the spirit
of youth still lingered in her eyes and in her smile. He might go a
thousand miles before meeting a woman who would please him more, take
better care of Phil, or preside with more dignity over his household.
Her simple grace would adapt itself to wealth as easily as it had
accommodated itself to poverty. It would be a pleasure to travel with
her to new scenes and new places, to introduce her into a wider world,
to see her expand in the generous sunlight of ease and freedom from
responsibility.

True to his promise, the colonel made every effort to see that Bud
Johnson should be protected against mob violence and given a fair
trial. There was some intemperate talk among the partisans of Fetters,
and an ominous gathering upon the streets the day after the arrest,
but Judge Miller, of the Beaver County circuit, who was in Clarendon
that day, used his influence to discountenance any disorder, and
promised a speedy trial of the prisoner. The crime was not the worst
of crimes, and there was no excuse for riot or lynch law. The accused
could not escape his just punishment.

As a result of the judge's efforts, supplemented by the colonel's and
those of Doctor Price and several ministers, any serious fear of
disorder was removed, and a handful of Fetters's guards who had come
up from his convict farm and foregathered with some choice spirits of
the town at Clay Jackson's saloon, went back without attempting to do
what they had avowedly come to town to accomplish.

_Thirty_

One morning the colonel, while overseeing the work at the new mill
building, stepped on the rounded handle of a chisel, which had been
left lying carelessly on the floor, and slipped and fell, spraining
his ankle severely. He went home in his buggy, which was