Suddenly a voice was heard:

"Not wishin' to interfere in a fair fight--it's me, parson, Sheriff
Peters--not wishin' to interfere in a fair fight, I've been a-lookin' on
here, where I'd tracked the thief myself, and would have grabbed him if
you hadn't been about half a minute ahead of me. And if you want to know
my honest opinion--my professional opinion--it's just this: There was
stuff for a splendid sheriff spiled when you went a-preachin'. How you'd
get along when it come to collectin' taxes, I don't know, never havin'
been at any meetin' where you took up a collection; but when it come to
an arrest, you'd be just chain-lightning ground down to a pint. The
pris'ner's yours, and so's all the rewards that's offered for him,
though they're not offered for a man of the name _he_ gives. But,
honest, now, don't you think there's a chance of mitigatin'
circumstances in his case? Let's talk it over--I'll help you tie him so
he can't slip you."

The sheriff lighted a pocket-lantern and placed it in a window-frame
behind him, then he tied the prisoner's feet and legs in several places,
tied his hands behind his back, sat him upon the ground with his face
toward the door, cocked a pistol, and then beckoned the preacher toward
a corner. The sheriff opened his pocketbook and took out a paper,
whispering as he did so:

"I've carried this as a sort of a curiosity, but it may come in handy
now. Let's see--confound it!--the poor old fellow is describing the
child just as it was fifteen years ago. Oh, here's a point or
two!--'brown eyes, black hair'--oh, bully! here's the best thing
yet!--'first joint of the left fore-finger gone.'"

The sheriff snatched the light, and both men hastened to examine the
prisoner's hand. After a single glance their eyes met and each set of
optics inquired of the other.

At length the sheriff remarked: "He's _your_ pris'ner."

The circuit-rider flushed and then turned pale. He took the lantern from
the sheriff, turned the light full on the prisoner's face, and said:

"Prisoner, suppose you were to find that your father was alive?"

The horse-thief replied with a piercing glance, which was full of
wonder, but said not a word. A moment or two passed, and the preacher
said:

"Suppose you were to find that your father was alive, and had searched
everywhere for _you_, and that he thought of nothing but you, and was
all the time hoping for your return--that he had grown old before his
time, all bec