THE several influences moving against the School-teacher, having formed a conjunction, at last determined to act.

On Wednesday night, in the church at the county seat, two persons attended the minister's mid-weekly meeting, who were not members of the congregation. These two persons, the sheriff and the doctor, sat on the last bench nearest the door. When the service was concluded and the congregation withdrew, these two persons remained with the minister. The three of them moved up to the table before the altar, where there was a small oil lamp.

They remained for a long time in conference around this table.

It seemed that the minister's efforts to get rid of the School-teacher by prevailing on the trustee to close the schoolhouse, had not succeeded.

The school went on in spite of the notice.

And now some more effective measures must be found. The sheriff, when the minister informed him of the occupancy of Nicholas Parks' estate by this stranger, had caused a proceeding to be instituted in the circuit court, and had obtained an order restraining any one from entering on the lands of Nicholas Parks until the right of the state thereto could be determined. This order had been posted on the door of Nicholas Parks' house. But this order, like the one on the door of the schoolhouse, the stranger had not regarded.

It was evident that a firmer step must be taken.

Two plans were available. As the School-teacher had continued to remain on Nicholas Parks' lands after the restraining order had been posted on the door, the sheriff could apply to the circuit judge for a rule and cause him to be brought before the court and imprisoned for contempt. The second plan was for the doctor to go before a justice of the peace and take out a warrant against the School-teacher charging him with practicing medicine without a license.

These two plans were now under discussion in the empty, dimly lighted church.

The little hand oil lamps had been put out except one on a wooden bracket by the door, and the one smoking on the table before the altar. The silence, the empty church, or something in the atmosphere of the place, caused the men to draw together and to discuss the matter in undertones.

The minister sat with his back to the altar.

On the bench beside him was his hat containing the money which he had collected from the congregation at the close of the service. On either side were the doctor and the sheriff. The latter's big hump now prominent as he leaned over the table. The minister led the discussion, and they remained for some time thus, in conference. The minister's defective eye batting, the doctor's crooked arm on the table, and the sheriff's back throwing its humped shadow against the wall.

Finally it was determined that the sheriff should go before the court on Thursday and obtain the rule upon which the School-teacher could be arrested and brought down out of the mountain. At the same time the doctor should take out his warrant before the justice of the peace, so it might be available in case the circuit judge should not commit the Schoolteacher upon the proceeding for contempt.

This plan having been settled upon, it became necessary to consider how the arrest should be made.

The sheriff could send his deputy, who served legal papers in the county, but the deputy had never seen the School-teacher and did not know him. And, besides this, if the School-teacher resisted, and those about him should come to his support, there might be considerable trouble to take him. One man conducting a prisoner through the mountains in the night might easily be compelled to release him. Moreover, the deputy, knowing the danger of making an arrest in the mountain districts, could not be got to go up alone.

A discussion of who should be found to assist the deputy then arose. No one could be thought of except Jonas Black, a worthless hanger-on about the village. This man was the son of Jerry Black, whose eye the School-teacher had cured.

He had been the sheriff's driver on the occasion of that official's interview with the School-teacher. He was familiar with the mountains, and it was thought less likely to be resisted, since he was one of the mountain people. He knew the School-teacher. It was said that for a time he had hung about him, hoping to be employed to go from house to house and collect the School-teacher's salary, until he discovered to his astonishment, that this stranger was charging nothing for his service.

The sheriff rose and went out into the village to seek this man, while the others awaited his return. The sheriff was not gone very long. He presently entered the church with another. This man had a curious deep red birthmark covering the entire side of his face. He came up the church aisle behind the sheriff, stepping softly and glancing furtively about him. He slipped into a seat before the table facing the altar, and remained there shifting his hat in his lingers.

The sheriff took his place at the table.

“I found Jonas,” he said.

The minister looked across the table at the man.

“Will you go?” he inquired.

“Yes, I'll go,” replied the man, “if I git paid enough for it.”

“How much do you want?” said the minister.

“Well,” replied the man, “it ought to be worth about five dollars.”

The three men at the table protested.

The sum was excessive. The sheriff would provide a horse. The journey would not take longer than one night. Besides, there was no way by which the fees of a deputy, for such service, could be made to aggregate that sum. The man persisted, and, while the sheriff considered how the sum allowed under the law could be augmented, the minister bargained. The man finally reduced his demand to three dollars. And the sheriff, seeing now a plan by which an additional charge could be officially added, said:

“There are a couple of bad characters in the jail, held to the grand jury for breaking into a store. They may try to give me some trouble. Now, if you would watch the jail for a few nights, I might manage to get that fee for you.”

“Well,” replied the man, “I'd sorter keep an eye on the jail for a night or two. I wouldn't mind doin' that. But I won't wait for my money. I won't take it in costs.”

“How soon will you want it?” inquired the sheriff.

“Right now,” said the man.

“I couldn't give it to you to-night,” replied the sheriff.

The man got up.

“Then I won't go,” he said.

An idea occurred to the minister. He turned around, picked up his hat, containing the recent collection, and placed it on the table. He whispered a moment to the others, then he spoke to the man.

“I'll pay you the money,” he said.

He began to count it out on the table. The money from the collection was in small silver coins and he selected the largest of them. He leaned over the table, his fingers in the hat, his defective eye close to the lamp.

And the man standing before the altar, one half of his face in the shadow, one half discolored by the crimson birthmark dimly in the light, received the money. Two dollars and sixty cents in ten-cent pieces, three five-cent pieces, and one twenty-five cent piece.