t eye, perched idly on the vines about the porch, having
relinquished for the day the job of teaching a small, stubby imitation
of himself to fly. The shocks of wheat in the bare field close by had
turned a rich red gold in the lengthening rays before Stephen Ryder
realized that night was close at hand.

All at once he heard a discordant noise which he knew that Ab Ryder
called "singing," and presently the boy appeared in the distance, his
mouth stretched, his tattered hat stuck on the back of his tow-head, his
bare feet dusty, his homespun cotton trousers rolled up airily about his
knees, his single suspender supporting the structure. His father laughed
a little at sight of him, rather sardonically it must be confessed, and
saying to his wife that he intended to go to the shop for a while, he
rose and strolled off down the road.

When supper was over, however, Ab was immensely relieved to see that
his father had no idea of continuing his work. Consequently the usual
routine was to be expected. Generally, when summoned to the evening
meal, the blacksmith hastily plunged his head in the barrel of water
used to temper steel, thrust off his leather apron, and went up to the
house without more ado. He smoked afterward, and lounged about, enjoying
the relaxation after his heavy work. He did not go down to lock the shop
until bed-time, when he was shutting up the house, the barn, and the
corn-crib for the night. In the interval the shop stood deserted and
open, and this fact was the basis of Ab's opportunity. To-night there
seemed to be no deviation from this custom. He ascertained that his
father was smoking his pipe on the porch. Then he went down the road and
sat on the log near the shop to wait for the other boys who were to
share the risks and profits of borrowing the hammer.

All was still--so still! He fancied that he could hear the tumult of the
torrent far away as it dashed over the rocks. A dog suddenly began to
bark in the black, black valley--then ceased. He was vaguely over-awed
with the "big mountings" for company and the distant stars. He listened
eagerly for the first cracking of brush which told him that the other
boys were near at hand. Then all three crept along cautiously among the
huge boles of the trees, feeling very mysterious and important. When
they reached the rude window, Ab sat for a moment on the sill, peering
into the intense blackness within.

"It air dark thar, fur true, Ab," said Jim Gryce,