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"I don't think much of the sheriff up here," continued David. "He simply laid down on his job after the first week or two. After Mrs. Gray had offered a reward he made quite a lot of fuss. But it all died out quickly. Blaisdell's done his best, but this isn't his kind of a job. Half a dozen so-called woodsmen up here have tried their hand at it, too.
"Oh, yes of course; for my book," agreed Mr. Smith, a bit hastily. He had the guilty air of a small boy who has almost been caught in a raid on the cooky jar. "And although poor Maggie isn't really a Blaisdell herself, she's nearly one; and they've got lots of Blaisdell records down there among Mother Blaisdell's things, you know. You'll want to see those." "Yes; yes, indeed.
"Oh, yes! And they've got it, too, haven't they?" remembered Mellicent. "And Aunt Flora, and " She stopped suddenly, a growing dismay in her eyes. "Why, he didn't he didn't leave a cent to AUNT MAGGIE!" she cried. "Gosh! that's so. Say, now, that's too bad!" There was genuine concern in Frank Blaisdell's voice. "But why?" almost wept Mellicent. Her mother sighed sympathetically. "Poor Maggie!
Her hands trembled as she brushed his wet hair back from his clammy brow. "I've somethin' on my conscience," he whispered. The woman, the sensitive in Ellen, understood and pitied him then. "Yes," she encouraged him. "I stole cattle my dad's an' Blaisdell's an' made deals with Daggs.... All the crookedness wasn't on Jorth's side.... I want my brother Jean to know."
"It hasn't got any bar," said Blue. "Y'u're shore?" "Yes, I reckon," replied Blue. "Hell, man! Aren't y'u takin' a terrible chance?" queried Blaisdell. Blue's answer to that was a look that brought the blood to Blaisdell's face.
Jane Blaisdell and her daughter, Mellicent. There's a "Poor Maggie" whom I haven't seen. But she isn't a Blaisdell. She's a Duff, daughter of the man who married Rufus Blaisdell's widow, some thirty years or more ago. As I said, I haven't seen her yet, but she, too, according to Mrs. Frank Blaisdell, must be a gushing geyser of Blaisdell data, so I probably soon shall see her.
"Frinds!" exclaimed the astonished Mike, "Be-dad! and whin did I iver know ye to make frinds with ony of owld Blaisdell's men befoor?" "Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, Mike," was Jack's only reply as he again began work, and Mike had nothing to do but to follow his example. In a short time Houston had become perfectly familiar with his new surroundings.
"What's he want, mother?" came Roxy's clear voice from within the room. "That's Heman Blaisdell's voice." "Roxy, you come down here!" called Heman, masterfully. There was a pause, during which Mrs. Cole was apparently pulled away from the window. Then Roxy, her head enveloped in a shawl, appeared in her mother's place. "Well!" she said, impatiently. "What is it?"
"Dew ye! waal, there's a woman up here to Lake Village, 'Squire Blaisdell's wife, who has had the dropsy more'n twelve years; been filling' all the time till they tell me she's bigger'n a hogshead now, and she's had a hundred doctors, and the more doctors she has the bigger she gets; what d' ye think of that now?"
Blaisdell's kind permission to come and ask all the questions he liked, he deemed it fitting to begin there. He had no trouble in finding the house, but there was no one in sight this time, as he ascended the steps. The house, indeed, seemed strangely quiet. He was just about to ring the bell when around the corner of the veranda came a hurried step and a warning voice.
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