Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the noble river, or the waters of the little creek lying between its semi-wooded banks. It was a balmy spring evening when the whole world seemed at peace. On a night such as this new longings and aspirations swell the heart, and the blood tingles joyfully through the body. Stephen had remained after the rest of the men had gone home. He wished to examine the logs to see that the work was well done. As he now stood on the shore his thoughts were not upon the glassy river or Nature's loveliness. His mind was disturbed. All through the winter he had been looking forward to the time when the logs would be floating there secured by their wooden bonds. He had planned to have Nellie come to see the completion of his work. He knew how she would rejoice at what he had accomplished, and in his mind he had heard her words of congratulation. But now all was changed. The work was done, but Nellie was not there to behold his victory. How lonely seemed the parish since her departure. He had thrown himself with great energy into his task, and the days had sped by. But, try as he might, he could not free himself from the weight which pressed upon his heart. Everything in the parish moved on as before. The new clergyman came, and service had been held in the church as usual. Many spoke favourably of the new man. He was young, full of spirit, and a clear, forcible speaker. But to Stephen it was not the same as formerly. He missed the white-haired, venerable man in his accustomed place. The moment he entered the church his eyes sought the seat where Nellie always sat. It was empty. That form so dear to him was not there. He saw her Prayer Book and Hymn Book in the little rack, and a lump came into his throat, as he knew they would not be used.

He thought of these things, standing there on the shore. His tall, manly figure was drawn to its full height. He gazed straight before. It was a far-off vision he beheld, and suddenly there came into his heart a peace such as he had not known since she left. She seemed to be very near, standing right by his side. He saw her face, beheld her eyes looking into his, and heard her voice bidding him to be of good cheer, and to look up.

A sound near by startled him. He glanced quickly around, half expecting to see Nellie standing there. Instead, however, he beheld the tall, lank form of Tony Stickles approaching. His face was gaunt, his step weak and slow. But Stephen did not notice these, so surprised was he to see him.

"Tony!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, "where did you drop from? I thought you were on the big drive."

"So I was, Steve," Tony replied, taking a seat upon a large boulder.

"Didn't get fired, eh?"

To this Tony made no response. He looked thoughtfully before him for a while.

"Say, Steve," he at length remarked. "How's Parson John?"

"He's gone, Tony. Driven from Glendow."

"What!" and Tony sprang to his feet in excitement. "When did he leave?"

"Last week."

"Then I'm too late! I was afraid of it! But I came fast--I ran sometimes; but it was no use. Is he in the lockup?"

"In the lockup! What do you mean?" and Stephen stared at him in amazement.

From the depth of a capacious pocket Tony brought forth Dan's soiled letter, and held it up.

"Read that," he said. "It's all I know."

Quickly Stephen scanned the quaint words, drinking in almost intuitively the meaning of it all.

"Did Dan give you this?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"And where is the boy now?"

Tony's eyes dropped at the question, and he did not answer.

"Is anything wrong?" Stephen insisted.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But set down close, Steve. I've somethin' great to tell ye."

And sitting there in the dusk of even Tony poured into his companion's ears the story of that terrible scene in Giant Gorge, and of Dan's brave deed.

Stephen listened spell-bound to the tale. The meaning of Dan's departure was all clear now. While people had been blaming the lad as an ungrateful runaway he had fared forth in loving service on behalf of his guardians. A mistiness blurred Stephen's eyes as Tony paused.

"Where is Dan now?" he asked.

"At Big Sam's house. We brought 'im down on the waggon, an' I helped carry 'im in."

"Who is Big Sam?"

"Oh, he's the teamster. The booms are near his place whar the raftin' will be done. Sam hauls the stuff fer the gang."

"And you don't know how badly Dan is hurt?"

"No, I came away at once. I wanted to help the old parson. An' say, Steve, did they find the gold?"

"Find it? No. And I don't think they will now. It's a great mystery."

"An' they say the parson took it?"

"Yes, some do."

"An' didn't they find the iron box?"

"No."

"Did they look beneath the ashes?"

"They searched every nook and corner, and even sifted the ashes, but could find nothing."

"An' didn't Billy say nuthin'?"

"No, he was too weak. He tried to speak after the parson had carried him out, but no one could understand him."

Tony did not speak for a while, but remained lost in thought.

"Steve," he at length remarked. "I'd like to go to that old place. Will ye go with me?"

"What! to-night?"

"Yes, right away."

"It will be dark there now, Tony. Why not wait until morning?"

"No, no. I must go to-night. We kin git a lantern, an' I want a shovel, too. Will ye come?"

"Yes, if you want me," was Stephen's reluctant reply. "But you might as well save yourself the trouble. The place has been so thoroughly searched by daylight that I don't see we can do much at night. Anyway, I shall go with you."

Together they moved on their way up the road, Stephen carrying his peevy upon his shoulder. As they came to the store he stopped.

"Wait here, Tony," he said, "till I run in and get the mail. I shall be only a minute."

Entering the building he found Farrington sitting behind the counter writing. He looked up as Stephen entered, and laid down his pen. He was affable to all now, for election day was but a week off, and he needed every vote.

"Raftin' all done, Steve?" he asked as he handed out the mail.

"Yes, all finished," was the reply.

"Ye'll be to the p'litical meetin' to-night, Steve, won't ye?"

"Oh, I had forgotten all about it."

"But ye must come. I want ye to hear what I hev to say. Gadsby'll be thar, an' I've got a dose fer 'im which he won't soon fergit. I'll show 'im a thing or two, an' the people'll learn that they need a real, live practical man for councillor. Ye must certainly come."

"I'm not sure that I can come," Stephen replied. "I have an engagement to-night. I may be there, however, if I can get through in time. But I must be off now; Tony's waiting for me."

At these last words Farrington started, and an expression of concern swept over his face. He leaned anxiously forward and looked intently at Stephen.

"Did ye say that Tony Stickles is out thar?"

"Yes. He has just arrived."

"Why, w--what's he back so soon fer?"

"Special business, so he tells me. But I must be off."

Stephen noted Farrington's remarkable interest in Tony's return, and wondered what it meant. He had no mind to tell him about Dan, for he preferred to have as few words as possible with this man who was such a thorn in the flesh. He left Farrington standing in the door and proceeded with Tony up the road. As they moved along he noticed how his companion lagged behind. Usually he was such a rapid walker, and this slowness was a surprise to Stephen.

"Are you not well, Tony?" he asked.

"I'm all right," was the reply. "I've had a long walk to-day."

"Since when?"

"Daybreak."

"And did you rest?"

"No."

"Look here," and Stephen faced sharply about "Have you had anything to eat to-day?"

Tony's face flushed, and he gave a slight, evasive laugh. But Stephen was not to be put off.

"No, that won't do. I want to know. Have you been walking all day without any food?"

"Oh, I didn't mind, Steve. I was in a hurry to get home. Besides I--"

"Yes, I know," interrupted Stephen. "You didn't have your pay, and were too proud to beg. Oh, you're a great one. But you shall have supper with me at once before you go digging among those ashes."

For a while Tony was stubborn, but in the end Stephen led him off in triumph. Supper was ready, and Mrs. Frenelle gave the visitor a hearty welcome, and in his own quaint way he told of his work in the woods, and his experience on the drive.

"I feel like a new man," he said, rising from the table. "I was about tuckered out. Now I'm ready fer that bizness up yon. Guess we'll turn up somethin' tonight, or my name ain't Tony Stickles."

It was quite dark by the time they reached the ruins of the old house. The lantern threw its fitful light over the charred sticks and blackened stones.

"My! this is a scary place!" Tony exclaimed as he glanced around. "Poor old Billy was good to me, an' many a square meal I've had here. Now let's begin operations."

The wreck of the old-fashioned chimney stood out gaunt and desolate, while the large fire-place was filled with sticks and stones. These Tony began to clear away, tossing them far from the foundation. Placing the lantern in a secure position, Stephen assisted him in his task. Why he did so he could not tell, but there was something so sure and masterful about Tony's words and actions that he felt compelled to do something.

"Now fer the shovel, Steve. We'll soon see what's here," and Tony began to dig up ashes and earth in a lively manner. "I think this is the place. Yes, right down under the big hearth-stone, a little to the right. He told me about it time an' time agin. Poor Billy! Poor Billy! Ye never thought it 'ud come to this."

Stephen was all attention now. He watched Tony, digging and talking, uncertain whether the lad was really in his right mind. Had the fearful experience in Giant Gorge turned his brain? he wondered. He had read of such things. There was something uncanny about the way Tony talked to himself, and, brave though he was, a strange feeling crept through Stephen's body, making him long to be away from the spot. And still the digging went on, down through the yielding soil.

"Should be here purty close," Tony remarked. "Under the hearth-stone, well to the right. I ought to be near--Hello! what's this?"

The exclamation was caused by the point of the shovel striking something hard. Again and again the thrust was made, and each time a hollow sound was produced.

"It's it! It's it!" shouted Tony, now much excited. "I knowed it was here," and he dug away frantically, until presently an iron box about a foot long and six inches wide was exposed to view. Throwing aside the shovel, he seized the treasure with both hands, tore it from its hiding-place and held it aloft.

"Look, Steve!" he cried, trembling with excitement, "I knowed thar was somethin' here!"

Stephen was now as much aroused as Tony. "What's in it, do you think?" he asked.

"Gold! that's what's in it! Ye'll soon see," and Tony pulled back a little iron pin and threw up the cover. As he did so he gave a cry of surprise, for the light falling upon the interior showed nothing there but a few pieces of paper. Tony rubbed his eyes in amazement, and then looked at Stephen.

"Whar's that gold?" he fiercely demanded. "What has become of it?"

Stephen scarcely heard him, for a terrible idea had flashed into his mind. Someone had taken it, and was it--? He hardly dare let the name beat for an instant through his brain. It was cruel. No, no, it could not be! That white-haired man of God would not stoop to such a thing! But where was the gold?

The moon rose clear and full above the distant horizon. It seemed to ask silently the same question. A dog from a farm-house up the road split the air with its hoarse bark of wonder. Stephen placed his hand to his forehead in an abstracted manner. Then he glanced at the box, and the papers lying therein arrested his attention. He reached down and took them in his hand. They were tied with an old piece of tarred twine, and were much blackened and soiled. Drawing forth the first and holding it close to the lantern, Stephen read the brief words recorded there. It took him but a minute to do this, and then followed an exclamation which gave Tony a distinct start.

"What is it, Steve?" he asked. "What hev ye found?"

"Read this, and judge for yourself," Stephen replied, thrusting the paper into his companion's hands.

As Tony spelled out the words his eyes bulged with astonishment.

"Oh, Steve!" he gasped, "I'm so glad it isn't the parson. But do ye think this is all right?"

"It. looks like it. See the date, November 10th of last year. And notice, too, these words 'for safe keeping' and 'until called for.' Why, it's as plain as day. Then, here's the amount, 'five thousand dollars, all in gold, to be left in the iron box marked with a cross in white paint.'"

"Say, Tony," Stephen asked, "did Billy have such a box, another one like this?"

"Why, yes, I do remember one very well. It was smaller than this; 'twas stouter an' had a lock an' key. He kept some papers an' loose change in it. It allus sot on the old mantel-piece over the fire-place."

"Tony!" said Stephen, looking hard at the paper, "if that box of gold is there yet, and that man has been silent and let another take the blame, it's the smallest, vilest piece of work of which I ever heard."

"Sure 'tis, an' I say let's go an' ax 'im 'bout it."

"But he's at the meeting now."

"Well, all the better. It's right that the people should hear. But say, Steve, what's that other paper?"

"Oh, I forgot it. Maybe it will explain things further."

"Why, it's Billy's will!" cried Stephen, running his eyes over the closely written sheets, "and he's left the whole of his property, gold, farm and all, to you."

"To me! To me!" exclaimed Tony. "Ye must be mistaken."

"Read it for yourself, then," and Stephen passed over the will. "It's all there in black and white."

As Tony read, his face flushed, and his hands clutched the paper in the intensity of his feelings. His eyes flashed as he turned them hard upon Stephen.

"I understand now!" he cried. "That villain has tried to cheat me outer all this. He thought the will an' everythin' else was burned. But he was mistaken. Oh, yes, he didn't know what was beneath the ashes. Come, Steve, let's go an' ax 'im a few questions. Mebbe he'll explain things. Anyway we'll give 'im a chance. Come, let's hurry!"