s and hard work, they'll be able
to tackle the Lord's nat'ral gifts of the airth at any time."

Declining the cigarettes offered him by Demorest for a quid of
tobacco, which he gravely took from a tin box in his pocket, and to
the astonished eyes of the servants apparently obliterated any further
remembrance of the meal, he accompanied his host to the veranda again,
where, tilting his chair back and putting his feet on the railing, he
gave himself up to unwonted and silent rumination.

The silence was broken at last by Demorest, who, half-reclining on a
settee, had once or twice glanced towards the misshapen cactus.

"Was there any trace discovered of Blandford, other than we knew before
we left the States?"

"Wa'al, no," said Ezekiel, thoughtfully. "The last idea was that he'd
got control of the hoss after passin' the bridge, and had managed to
turn him back, for there was marks of buggy wheels on the snow on the
far side, and that fearin' to trust the hoss or the bridge he tried to
lead him over when the bridge gave way, and he was caught in the wreck
and carried off down stream. That would account for his body not bein'
found; they do tell that chunks of that bridge were picked up on the
Sound beach near the mouth o' the river, nigh unto sixty miles away.
That's about the last idea they had of it at North Liberty." He paused
and then cleverly directing a stream of tobacco juice at an accurate
curve over the railing, wiped his lips with the back of his hand,
and added, slowly: "Thar's another idea--but I reckon it's only mine.
Leastways I ain't heard it argued by anybody."

"What is that?" asked Demorest.

"Wa'al, it ain't exakly complimentary to E. Blandford, Esq., and it mout
be orkard for YOU."

"I don't think you're in the habit of letting such trifles interfere
with your opinion," said Demorest, with a slightly forced laugh; "but
what is your idea?"

"That thar wasn't any accident."

"No accident?" replied Demorest, raising himself on his elbow.

"Nary accident," continued Ezekiel, deliberately, "and, if it comes to
that, not much of a dead body either."

"What the devil do you mean?" said Demorest, sitting up.

"I mean," said Ezekiel, with momentous deliberation, "that E. Blandford,
of the Winnipeg Mills, was in March, '50, ez nigh bein' bust up ez any
man kin be without actually failin'; that he'd been down to Boston that
day to get some extensions; that old Deacon Salisbury knew it, and had
been