iver? I've fished
a lot there. Cornwall, Connecticut. The hills are pretty there. Then
Andy got worse. You look in that drawer." John remembered, and when he
got out the tintype, Jake stretched for it eagerly. "His mother and him,
age ten," he explained to Elizabeth, and held it for her to see, then
studied the faces in silence. "You kin tell it's Andy, can't yu'?" She
told him yes. "That was before we knowed he weren't--weren't goin' to
grow up like the other boys he played with. So after a while, when she
was gone, I got ashamed seein' Andy's friends makin' their way when
he couldn't seem to, and so I took him away where nobody hed ever been
acquainted with us. I was layin' money by to get him the best doctor in
Europe. I 'ain't been a good man."

A faintness mastered him, and Elizabeth would have put the picture
on the table, but his hand closed round it. They let him lie so, and
Elizabeth sat there, while John, with Mart, kept Nancy away till the
horror in the outer room was made invisible. They came and went quietly,
and Jake seemed in a deepening torpor, once only rousing suddenly to
call his son's name, and then, upon looking from one to the other, he
recollected, and his eyes closed again. His mind wandered, but very
little, for torpor seemed to be overcoming him. The squaw had stolen in,
and sat cowering and useless. Towards sundown John's heart sickened at
the sound of more horsemen; but it was only two white men, a sheriff and
his deputy.

"Go easy," said John. "He's not going to resist."

"What's up here, anyway? Who are you?"

Clallam explained, and was evidently not so much as half believed.

"If there are Indians killed," said the sheriff, "there's still another
matter for the law to settle with him. We're sent to search for whiskey.
The county's about tired of him."

"You'll find him pretty sick," said John.

"People I find always are pretty sick," said the sheriff, and pushed
his way in, stopping at sight of Mrs. Clallam and the figure on the bed.
"I'm arresting that man, madam," he said, with a shade of apology. "The
county court wants him."

Jake sat up and knew the sheriff. "You're a little late, Proctor," said
he. "The Supreme Court's a-goin' to call my case." Then he fell back,
for his case had been called.

Hank's Woman

I

Many fish were still in the pool; and though luck seemed to have left
me, still I stood at the end of the point, casting and casting my vain
line, while