. So. Now," he added in a muffled
whisper, "sit down yer by me till I go asleep." To assure himself of
obedience he disengaged one hand from the blanket, and, grasping his
father's sleeve, again composed himself to rest.

For some moments the Old Man waited patiently. Then the unwonted
stillness of the house excited his curiosity, and without moving from
the bed he cautiously opened the door with his disengaged hand, and
looked into the main room. To his infinite surprise it was dark and
deserted. But even then a smoldering log on the hearth broke, and by the
upspringing blaze he saw the figure of Dick Bullen sitting by the dying
embers.

"Hello!"

Dick started, rose, and came somewhat unsteadily toward him.

"Whar's the boys?" said the Old Man.

"Gone up the canon on a little pasear. They're coming back for me in a
minit. I'm waitin' round for 'em. What are you starin' at, Old Man?" he
added, with a forced laugh; "do you think I'm drunk?"

The Old Man might have been pardoned the supposition, for Dick's eyes
were humid and his face flushed. He loitered and lounged back to the
chimney, yawned, shook himself, buttoned up his coat and laughed.
"Liquor ain't so plenty as that, Old Man. Now don't you git up," he
continued, as the Old Man made a movement to release his sleeve from
Johnny's hand. "Don't you mind manners. Sit jest whar you be; I'm goin'
in a jiffy. Thar, that's them now."

There was a low tap at the door. Dick Bullen opened it quickly, nodded
"Good-night" to his host, and disappeared. The Old Man would have
followed him but for the hand that still unconsciously grasped his
sleeve. He could have easily disengaged it; it was small, weak and
emaciated. But perhaps because it was small, weak and emaciated he
changed his mind, and, drawing his chair closer to the bed, rested his
head upon it. In this defenceless attitude the potency of his earlier
potations surprised him. The room flickered and faded before his eyes,
reappeared, faded again, went out, and left him--asleep.

Meantime Dick Bullen, closing the door, confronted his companions. "Are
you ready?" said Staples. "Ready," said Dick; "what's the time?" "Past
twelve," was the reply; "can you make it?--it's nigh on fifty miles, the
round trip hither and yon." "I reckon," returned Dick shortly. "Whar's
the mare?" "Bill and Jack's holdin' her at the crossin'." "Let 'em hold
on a minit longer," said Dick.

He turned and reentered the house softly. By th