Abraham and Ruth, his wife, were stingy and childless. Three children had come to them, whose taking off left Abraham embittered against men. Ruth often said: "Complain not, Abraham, my man. Is not an angel more than a child? The little ones were your flesh, but my soul. Complain not, Abraham, my man."

Abraham had met, wooed, and wed Ruth in the fields, and ever afterward kept her there. Side by side they toiled, eating little, visiting seldom, and ever replenishing the money-bag at the bottom of the meal barrel. At the time of this incident the money bag was full and the meal barrel was about empty.

It was winter, and the old couple had just returned from a visit to a neighbor. As Abraham stirred the fire he said: "Ruth, we are getting old and must soon be done with things earthly. We have toiled hard and been a little saving. The neighbors have never had the opportunity of finding fault with your cooking; nor has the good parson ever had the hardihood to look this way for a contribution. I have been thinking of the best way to dispose of our wealth just before the breath leaves our bodies. Ruth, like yourself, I have always been pious-minded and desirous of doing something that will benefit the neighbors, and at the same time start their tongues to wagging about our good parts. It strikes me the best way to do this is to leave our money to erect a parsonage and to place a bell in the chapel. The bell will spread our fame above, and the women who visit the parson's wife will spread it below. I know from experience, Ruth, that it is a blessing as well as a curse to have ones acts linked with the tongue of a woman. Now, what think you?"

"Abraham," said Ruth, "I have always thought you had some good aim stuck away in your soul; and as time rolled on your good angel would discover it to you. This is why I have seldom differed from you. Why wait until we die to have this done? Let us take our savings of years to-morrow and place them in the hands of the parson."

"You have spoken wisely, my dear wife," said Abraham. "It shall be done."

After kissing Ruth, Abraham turned and stirred the fire. Just then someone knocked at the door. Abraham opened it, and in came a stalwart stranger, carrying a pair of saddle-bags. He asked for supper and a night's lodging. The old couple frankly told him they had no supper for him, but he was welcome to warm by the fire and sleep in the loft. He gladly accepted their proffer, and took his seat by the fire. Soon he began to spin yarns of all lengths and descriptions, and ended by telling how, while stopping with an old couple, he had kept them from being robbed. After this he crept upstairs and retired.

When Abraham thought the stranger was asleep he told his wife to prepare an ashcake for their supper. She told him there would not be meal enough if she threw away the husk.

"Well," said he, "put in husk and all."

The ashcake was soon spread upon the hearth and covered with hot ashes. Abraham bowed his head as though to ask a blessing.

"Not yet," said Ruth. "We are told there may be many a slip between the cup and the lip." Here they were interrupted by a noise from above.

"My dear friends," said the stranger, as he tumbled downstairs. "I forgot to tell you how my land runs." He took the poker, and, placing it in the middle of the ashcake, and moving it in keeping with the words, said:

"My land runs north, south, east, and west; then, coming back to the middle, it runs around and around." Having thus ruined the ashcake, he went back upstairs. After a considerable silence, Abraham said: "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh, and blessed be the rope that hangeth the stranger."

After removing their treasure from the meal barrel and almost worshipping it, they returned it and retired. They were soon fast asleep, but the stranger was not. Hours passed, and still the stranger was awake. Before knocking at the door to be admitted he had heard the old couple's talk concerning their money, and what they intended to do with it the next day. He had also seen them take it from the barrel, and replace it. He was now thinking about it. What were his thoughts? Was he planning some way to rob them? Was he thinking how he might protect them in a case of emergency? Hearing a noise below, he crawled to the opening and looked down. He saw that the side window had been opened. Looking farther, he saw a man stooping over the meal barrel. With the greatest precaution he descended and slipped up behind the man and soon gagged him with a handkerchief. He held the intruder easily by pressing him against the barrel. Beside the barrel lay a meal sack. This the stranger slipped over the intruder's head and arms, and wrapped him around with a rope that was lying near. By this time Abraham and his wife were awake.

"Look," said the stranger, "what I have done for you. This thief almost had your treasure when I apprehended him. He is all right, now. Where shall I put him. What about this closet here? You know we must keep him until morning and turn him over to the officers." With this the stranger dragged the robber into the closet.

"Let us have more light," said Ruth.

"No," said the stranger; "there may be more. Light might frighten them away. I want to serve you well to-night. You know I owe you a little something for listening to how my land runs."

"What was that white something," said Ruth, "you had over the fellow's head?"

"It was a meal sack," said the stranger.

"That is strange, indeed," said Ruth. "There was not a meal sack on the place when we went to bed."

"This is a strange night," said the stranger. "I am your friend, and yet I am so strange I would not let you eat that delicious ashcake. Go to bed, Aunt Ruth. Uncle Abraham and I will watch the thieves. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh; and, Uncle Abraham, will you finish the rest of it?"

Abraham said nothing. He thought the stranger was getting very familiar; but since he had done them such a good turn they could stand almost anything at his hands.

Ruth could not return to bed without first looking into the meal barrel in search of her treasure. It was there, and around it were a dozen or more bundles.

"How is this?" said she. "It is quite an honest thief that will take one treasure and leave another."

"Be not deceived," said the stranger; "a thief is by honor as a criminal is by his chains. A criminal does not worry himself and bruise his hands against his chains because he wishes to atone for his evil ways, but in order to get loose so that he may continue his crimes. Whenever a thief puts forth an act that smacks of honor, it is simply that he may conduct his business on a larger scale. Don't you see the point, Aunt Ruth? The thief we have in the closet stole those things somewhere else. He was afraid to leave them outside lest someone should steal them from him. When he saw your bag of money was so heavy he could not take them both, he concluded to leave the things and take the money."

"Why did he take the pains to put them into the barrel?" said Ruth.

"That is clear enough," said the stranger. "Had he put them on the floor you might have stumbled over them before morning and had your attention drawn to the robbery ere he could have gotten out of the neighborhood. By the way, he must have had the bundles in that sack in which he is now safely housed. He had emptied the sack before I saw him, and, I think, was stooping over to lift out the bag of money." Ruth and Abraham accepted this as a logical argument, and Ruth was soon in bed and asleep.

"I think I hear footsteps," said Abraham to the stranger.

"I am quite sure of that, sir," said the stranger. "I will settle him about as I did the first. I have a handkerchief. You get a bed quilt and a cord and follow me." They walked into the yard, the stranger leading. In the distance they saw a figure approaching.

"Let us go a little farther over this way," said the stranger. The words were hardly out of his mouth before he uttered a groan. When Abraham looked, the stranger was nowhere to be seen. Another groan, however, located him. He had fallen into an old cistern. On turning, Abraham stumbled over a ladder. With this the stranger was soon rescued.

By this time they could see that the approaching figure was a man with something like a sack on his shoulder. Instead of coming straight to them he turned his course a little in order to reach the side window.

"Uncle Abraham," said the stranger, "while we are out here wrestling with this fellow, some other one might go in and make off with the bag of money. Don't you think you had better bring it out and hold to it? I can handle this chap."

"Yes, yes," said Abraham; "it is a good thought."

He accordingly returned to the house, brought out his treasure, and sat down by the side of it, watching the newcomer.

The man with the sack walked up to the window and leaned the sack against the house. He then deliberately opened the window and peeped in, placing himself in very much the same position as had the one who had stooped over the barrel. Stepping swiftly up to the window, before the man could remove his head, the stranger had him gagged. In another minute he had been enfolded in the quilt, with a cord fast around him.

"I groaned in yonder sinkhole," said the stranger, "but you shall both groan and sleep in there the rest of the night, if you sleep at all." With this he rolled the latest intruder into the old cistern and placed boards across it.

"Uncle Abraham," said the stranger, "you take the money and I'll bring in the sack. Aunt Ruth, we have another of your honest thieves. He is out in the old cistern, thinking how he will not use your money. See what he has left you?"

Removing the contents of the sack, they so filled the barrel that there was no room for the bag of money.

"Young man, my dear young man," said Abraham, "there are no family ties between us, as far as I know, but I find myself drawn as closely to you as a father to his son. I could trust you with our lives, much less with our money. Keep watch over the bag of money while we take a good, solid nap."

The old couple were soon fast asleep. About four o'clock Ruth awoke and said: "Abraham, the door is open."

"So it is," said Abraham.

"But—but—Ruth, where is the stranger?"

"But—but—Abraham, where is the bag of money?"

Sure enough, both stranger and money were gone.

"I thought he was claiming kin a little too soon," said Ruth. "These folks who claim kin so soon are just like the folks who come to your house and tell you one lie about your neighbor in order to get you to tell a hundred. Then they will have a sufficient stock to supply the whole neighborhood. Is the fellow in the closet safe?"

"I'll see."

"How about the one in the cistern?"

"Safe, too," said Abraham. "We will turn them over to the officers as early in the day as possible, and then set them on the trail of the stranger. Maybe he will have some of the money when caught. In the meantime, what shall we do to keep up our spirits until it is good and light?"

"I never in my life," said Ruth, "felt more like hearing a prayer by Deacon Brindlebee and a sermon by Parson Prudence."

"Why, look," said Abraham, "the rogue has left his saddle-bags. Let's see what is in them."

He opened one side and drew out a copy of an old newspaper. He unfolded it, and there was a sermon on Patience by the identical Parson Prudence.

"Ah," said Ruth, "the rogue has also left his hat. What's in it?"

There was a folded paper between the hat and inner band. This she opened, and found that, among other things, it contained a prayer by Deacon Brindlebee.

"Now we have them," said Ruth. "Let us take our minds off rogues and place them on the words of these holy men. It would be far better to have them here, but let us stammer through them as best we can."

For nearly two hours Abraham and Ruth prayed the deacon's prayer and preached the parson's sermon. When six o'clock came they were still so carried away with the prayer and sermon that they were not conscious of the presence of two men who were standing near the door until they spoke.

"What's up now, Abraham?" said one of them. "Have robbers been about?"

"Pretty officers are you," said Abraham. "You should have been here last night. We have been entertaining robbers the whole night. Their aim was to rob us of our life's savings. One was good enough to entrap the others, so that you will have no trouble in securing them. Then, as soon as we were asleep, he took the bag of money and made off with it. Assemble the whole neighborhood, and I will turn two of them over to you."

In a short time nearly every man, woman, and child in the neighborhood was there. The man in the closet was dragged out and laid in the middle of the floor. The one in the cistern was hauled up and laid by his side. Then Abraham told the people how he and Ruth had labored through forty years to save the money; how at last they intended to spend it for a parsonage and a bell for Parson Prudence's church, and how the rogues lying before them tried to steal it, and were prevented and captured by the other and greater thief, who succeeded in getting away with it.

The people grew furious. Some wanted to hang them; others wanted to drown and bury them. One good deacon declared that it would be a great advantage for such characters to go to torment bundled up in that way, for, after they were in and their wraps were burned off, the devil would not know when they had come in nor what they had done.

"Let us do nothing rashly," said Ruth. "These poor souls may never hear another prayer or sermon. Let some brother come forth and read Deacon Brindlebee's prayer and another read Parson Prudence's sermon."

Two brethren came forth and conducted the services, after which the two men were untied and uncovered. To the surprise and consternation of all, there lay Parson Prudence and Deacon Brindlebee. The men were so chilled and cramped it was fully an hour before they could make themselves understood.

In the meantime other scenes took place.

"The very thought of a parson and a deacon turning thieves," said some, "is enough to give every sinner a license to miss heaven."

"The parson and the deacon are innocent," said others. "This old scoundrel and his wife, and maybe someone else, have played a trick on them. Where did they get money enough to buy a parsonage and a bell? They have always lived from hand to mouth. During forty years they have never had enough to give a neighbor a meal, and were never known to give the smallest contribution to the church. Gag them and serve them as they have served our parson and deacon."

The men seized Abraham, gagged him, and lowered him into the cistern. The women served Ruth in the same way and stored her away in the closet.

At this point the storekeeper stood upon the edge of the barrel and said:

"Parson Prudence and Deacon Brindlebee came to my place last night and bought two sacks full of groceries. They said that Abraham and his wife seemed to be in need, and that they were going to bring some things over here and slip them into the room while Abraham slept, so that the heretics might be surprised in the morning. Now, this is the way they were paid for their kindness. Ladies and gentlemen, think also of that prayer and sermon. Was that a mere accident? I think not. The whole affair was planned. They were not satisfied with sacking, quilting and cording them. They must stretch them out upon the floor like sure-enough, night-prowling, dishonest thieves; and, while in that position, pray to the deacon the prayer that he has been budding and blossoming into length and boisterousness for the last twenty years. Then think of the parson in the same position, listening to the sermon on 'Patience,' when you know, ladies and gentlemen, as well as I, that the parson, with a very little vocal effort and a slight movement of his hands, has put three generations to sleep with that identical sermon. Let us look for the groceries, and, if found, take vengeance."

As the word "vengeance" was uttered the speaker's feet slipped into the barrel so far he had to be extracted. This showed the people where the groceries were. By this time the parson and deacon were on their feet and ready to state their side of the case.

"Hearing that Abraham and his wife were in hard lines," said the parson, "the deacon and I, as has been said, bought two sacks of groceries from the gentleman who has just spoken, intending to come together and slip them into this room. By some means we were separated, so I came alone; and, finding the household asleep, I crawled into that window and put the contents of this meal sack into the barrel yonder. I was surprised to find in it a large bag of money. All this time Abraham and his wife were asleep in this bed. Just as I straightened up to go two strong arms caught me, gagged me, sacked, and closeted me. I think, ladies and gentlemen, I have said enough to prove my innocence, and that of Abraham and his wife. There has been a mistake, somewhere, or the man with the strong arms was playing a winning game for himself."

The deacon came forth, and in a few words told his story, and ended by saying that the two strong arms that so lovingly handled the parson must have gagged, quilted, and imprisoned him.

Abraham and Ruth were ungagged and brought before the people. Their statement of the case at certain points was just like the parson's. They told how the stranger had been admitted, how he treated the ashcake, how he claimed kin, and, lastly, how they had trusted him with the money, and been deceived.

"Innocent! innocent!" shouted the people; "all here are innocent. The stranger alone is guilty. Is there nothing here by which he can be identified?"

"Here," said Abraham, "are his saddlebags and hat, with a name on the former that is doubtless his."

"He must be a strange thief indeed to leave behind him such telling witnesses as these," said the deacon.

"Ah," said the parson, "I fear there is still more mystery in this matter."

While the people were speechmaking and changing their opinions, the two officers who were the first to arrive and hear Abraham's story had been prowling over the farm. Just at this point they bore a man through the crowd and laid him on the floor where the deacon and parson had lain. He was gagged and corded after about the same fashion as they had been.

"Ah," said one, "the stranger has been playing gagging-binding master to another weakling."

"No, my man," said Abraham, "that is the stranger himself."

At this the mob seized the bound man and yelled: "Confess, confess! You shall confess!" They pulled him in and out of the closet. They lowered him into the cistern and hauled him out again and again. At times a hundred voices were bawling: "Confess, confess! You shall confess!" During all this confusion the parson was the only person who noticed that the poor fellow was still gagged.

"How can he confess," said the parson, "when he is gagged as daintily as a parson in a closet?"

They removed the gag, but not the cords.

"Gentlemen," said he, "if you are as ready to give me justice as I am to confess the truth in this matter, my part of the mystery will soon be cleared up and I can enjoy myself here with my uncle and aunt."

"Claiming kin again, Abraham," said Ruth. "Look out for your life next time."

"Strangle the hypocrite," said one.

"Give the impudent whelp a bath in the mill-pond," said another.

"No," said the parson, "let him confess."

"Gentlemen," said he, "I am innocent. If I stole the bag of money, why should I leave my saddlebags behind, with my name on them, and one side of which is full of money?"

The saddlebags were now examined by the crowd, and the stranger's statements found to be true.

"Then," said he, "why should I encumber myself this way? In fact, how could I? It would be impossible."

This somewhat appeased the crowd, until someone suggested that maybe he took the bag of money outside to hide it, intending to come back and get his own property; but as daylight overtook him he hired someone to gag and cord him in that way. On hearing this one man grabbed the prisoner by the foot and started to drag him to the cistern again. In so doing one boot was pulled off, out of which fell a picture.

"Here, Abraham," said Ruth, handing him the picture, "this may be all you will ever get for your bag of money."

Abraham took the picture and looked at it closely.

"Now, gentlemen," said the stranger, "a few more points, and I will have this mystery clear."

"You had better clear it quickly," said the crowd.

"Don't be too hard," said the parson. "Let him confess."

"Yes," said the stranger, "I am anxious to confess. This gentleman is really my uncle. He and my father have not met since I was born. Father and I agreed to pay him a visit. Since I have always been a funny chunk of humanity, father thought it might be well for me to come last night and twit uncle a little. He promised to arrive this morning. As I neared this house last night I saw two men standing close to the door, as though listening to what was going on inside. On seeing me they moved off at a brisk pace. Before knocking, I listened and heard Uncle Abraham and Aunt Ruth talking of their money, and what they intended to do with it the next day. Now, of course I thought the two men were listening to the same thing, and would be back in the night to rob them. After I had been admitted and had spoiled the ashcake—so that I could have a good excuse for giving them a nice little gift this morning for wronging them—and had gone to bed, it seemed I could see those two men trying to get into the house. Sleep fled my eyes; and, as I lay pondering what I would do in an emergency, I beheld the good parson here at the meal barrel. Thinking that he was one of the men I distrusted I slipped up behind him, and, after bundling him up in the fashion you beheld him, I tucked him into the closet. When the deacon came I treated him likewise, and rolled him into the cistern. The groceries they brought were put in the barrel. I could not account for this part of it, but now I see. Having disposed of the supposed robbers so nicely, Uncle Abraham put the bag of money in my keeping. Thinking I had nothing more to fear, I set the bag at my side and fell asleep. When I awoke a man was looking in the window through which the parson had climbed. As I heard no signs of another, I opened the door and grappled with him. While we were rolling over the ground a second man walked off with the money. I started to follow him, but my man clung to me so that I had to drag him a considerable distance before I could beat him off. In fact, he was so exhausted he did not rise for some time, to follow me. I caught up with the other fellow just as I neared the old well. He evidently thought I was his confederate. I said not a word, but lifted the bag from his shoulder and dropped it into the well. Seeing his mistake, he struck me a terrible blow that felled me to the ground. When I came to myself I was bound and gagged, just as these officers found me."

The crowd gazed at one another in unbelief, but decided, nevertheless, after some parley to proceed to the well to investigate the truth of the strange story the prisoner had to tell. Arrived there, a man was lowered into the well, and soon gave the signal to be drawn out, with the bag of money. Some of the crowd were still disposed to doubt the innocence of their captive. They claimed that he was one of the band, that the bag of money fell into the well by accident, and that he was beaten, bound, and gagged because he was too mean to go along with the others.

"In short," said one, "they left you here for an outraged people to dull their vengeance upon. Let every lover of justice help to string him up."

"Hold! hold," said Abraham. "This picture has a story to tell. There are two likenesses on here. One is that of a brother that I have not seen for thirty years, and the other is of the stranger here. Is this not sufficient evidence with what you have already heard? I think—guess—believe—that this is enough for—— Well, gentlemen, don't you think this is enough for me?"

"Yes," said a low-browed son of passion who was trying to put a noose around the stranger's neck, "it is enough to make this fit decently."

"Let the man have a chance to confess," cried out the parson and the deacon jointly.

"Let me have a chance to collar his neck with this noose," said the low-browed son of passion.

Then followed a struggle, in which the parson and the deacon seized the noose on either side of the fellow's neck, and kept it from being tightened. The struggle grew in intensity, so much so that none of the excited throng noticed a dignified old gentleman dismount and run up to the crowd. Abraham, standing to one side in the confusion, noted the old man's approach, gazed at him, and at once clasped him around the neck and cried: "My brother! my brother!"

Disengaging himself, and upon seeing the young man in his sorry plight, the old gentleman hurried forward crying: "My son! my son!"

The young man hearing the cry in the midst of the melee looked up and gasped, "My father! my father!"

By this time Abraham and the young man's father forced their way to the young man's side. The people fell back and scattered in all directions, leaving the young man almost exhausted. His bonds were at once cut, and he was put upon his feet and refreshed.

The young man was soon able to smile.

His Uncle Abraham and Aunt Ruth kissed him and commended his heroism.

Sometime later in the day the two real culprits were apprehended, and confessed their guilt, stating that they had overheard part of Abraham's conversation regarding the money when the young man's approach had led them to await a better hour. Thus were Abraham and Ruth vindicated; thus, too, were all doubts as to the young man's story laid at rest. Parson Prudence got the bag of money with which to buy the parsonage and bell, and Deacon Brindlebee was handsomely rewarded for his part in the comedy.

Ashcakes were never thought of again in that house, for Abraham's brother and nephew were rich, and they all lived as one family. The parsonage was erected. The bell was hung; and, as Abraham prophesied, the bell spread their fame above and the women who visited the parson's wife spread it below.