ONE morning, three days later, as Paul was writing in his room his employer came in holding a sheet of paper in his hand. His face was bloated, his eyes bloodshot; he had lost flesh and quivered in every limb and muscle.

“I want to ask a favor,” he said, in a tone which was almost that of pleading humility.

“What is it? I'm at your service,” the young man said, politely indicating the vacant chair beside the table.

Hoag caught the back of the chair as if to steady himself, but declined to sit down. He made a dismal failure of a smile of unconcern. “You needn't think I'm gittin' ready to die by this move o' mine,” he began, “but I think any sensible man ought to be prepared for any possible accident to him. I've made my will, an' I want you to witness it. It won't be contested, and your name will be sufficient.”

“Oh, I see.” Paul was mystified, but he took the document from the nerveless hand and spread it open on the table.

“You needn't bother to read it through.” Hoag's voice trailed away toward indistinctness, and he coughed and cleared his throat. “I've made an even divide of all my effects betwixt Jack an' Henry an' Eth', an'—an' I've specified that the business—in case o' my death—is to run on under your care till Jack is of age—that is, if you are willin': you to draw whatever pay you feel is reasonable or is fixed by the law.”

“Of course that is agreeable,” Paul answered, “though I shall count on your aid and advice for a good many years, I am sure.”

Hoag blinked. He swung on the chair a moment, then he added:

“There is one more thing, an' I hope you won't object to that, neither. It's about Jack. The child is at the age when he kin either grow up under good or—or what you might call bad influence, an' somehow I want—I've studied over it a lot lately—an' I want to take the thing in time. You don't believe exactly like other folks, but you are on the safe side—the safest, I might say. Jack thinks the sun rises an' sets in you”—Hoag's voice shook slightly—“I reckon it's because you treat the little fellow so friendly an' nice, an' it struck me that in case of any—you know—any possible accident to me that I'd like for you to be his guardian.”

“His guardian? I! Why, Mr. Hoag—”

“Never mind; I know what you are goin' to say. You think you are too young, I reckon, but I've thought about it a lot, an' I really would feel better in—in my mind if you'd agree. I ain't—I can't say I am”—Hoag attempted a laugh of indifference—“actually countin' on the grave right now, but a feller like me has enemies. In fact, I may as well say I know I have some, an' they wouldn't hesitate to settle me if they had a fair chance. I've writ it all down thar, an' I'm goin' to sign it an' I want you to witness my signature.”

“Very well, Mr. Hoag. I feel highly honored, and I'll do my best to prove worthy of the trust you place in me.”

“I ain't a-worryin' about that. You are a plumb mystery to me. Sometimes I think you are more'n human. I know one thing—I know you are all right.” Hoag's massive hand shook as he dipped a pen, leaned down, and wrote his name. He stood erect and watched Paul sign his name opposite it.

“You take care of it.” Hoag waved his hand. “Put it in the safe at the warehouse. I can't think of anything else right now. If—if I do, I'll mention it.”

“I have an order for several grades of leather from Nashville,” Paul began, picking up a letter on the table, “and I want to consult you about—”

“I'd rather you wouldn't.” A sickly look of despair had settled on the heavy features. “I'm willin' to trust your judgment entirely. What you do will be all right. You see—you see, somehow it is a comfort at my time o' life—an' harassed like I am—to feel that I ain't obliged to bother about so many odds an' ends.”

“Very well, as you think best,” Paul answered. “I'll do all I can.”

Hoag was seated on the watering-trough in the barn-yard a little later, his dull gaze on the sunlit mountain-side, when two soft, small hands were placed over his eyes from behind and he felt the clasp of a tender pair of arms around his neck.

“Who's got you?” a young voice asked, in a bird-like ripple of merriment.

“Jack!” Hoag answered, and he drew the boy into his lap, stroked his flowing tresses, and held him tightly against his breast.

The child laughed gleefully. He sat for a moment on the big, trembling knee; then, seeing a butterfly fluttering over a dungheap, he sprang down and ran after it. It evaded the outstretched straw hat, and Hoag saw him climb over the fence and dart across the meadow. Away the lithe creature bounded—as free as the balmy breeze upon which he seemed to ride as easily as the thing he was pursuing. Hoag groaned. His despair held him like a vise. On every side hung the black curtains of his doom. All nature seemed to mock him. Birds were singing in the near-by woods. On the sloping roof of the bam blue and white pigeons were strutting and cooing. On the lawn a stately peacock with plumage spread strode majestically across the grass.

To avoid meeting Jack again, Hoag passed out at the gate, and went into the wood, which, cool, dank, and somber, stretched away toward the mountain. Deeper and deeper he got in the shade of the great trees and leaning cliffs and boulders till he was quite out of sight or hearing of the house. The solitude and stillness of the spot strangely appealed to him. For the first time in many days he had a touch of calmness. The thought came to him that, if such a thing as prayer were reasonable at all, a spot like this would make it effective.

Suddenly, as he stood looking at a cliff in front of him, he fancied that the leaves and branches of an overhanging bush were stirring. To make sure, he stared fixedly at it, and then he saw a black face emerge, a face that was grimly set in satisfaction. Was he asleep, and was this one of the numerous fancies which had haunted him in delirium? Yes, for the face was gone, the leaves of the bush were still. And yet, was it gone? Surely there was renewed activity about the bush which was not visible in its fellows. What was it that was slowly emerging from the branches like a bar of polished steel? The sunlight struck it and it flashed and blazed steadily. The bush swayed downward and then held firm. There was a puff of blue smoke. Hoag felt a stinging sensation over the region of his heart. Everything grew black. He felt himself falling. He heard an exultant laugh, which seemed to recede in the distance.