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Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading "Huckleberry Finn," while I sent my trousers out to be mended. Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat served well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a hole in his finest hat. And I the man within I escaped, and have been out freely upon the great adventure of life.
The correspondents forgot to write, and, like the audience, hung upon every word and gesture of Jimmy Grayson, as he made his great denunciatory speech; they felt that he was stirred by something unusual, that some great and extraordinary motive was impelling him, and they followed eagerly where he led them. Harley saw the look of awe on the faces of the audience grow and deepen.
The guide led on; Jimmy Grayson, with bent head, followed; Mr. Heathcote, shrunk in his saddle, came next; then "King" Plummer; and after him Sylvia and Harley, who were as nearly side by side as the narrow path would permit. "It won't be far, Miss Morgan," said Harley; the others could not hear. She felt rather than heard the note of apprehension in his voice, and she knew it was for her.
His face wore a troubled expression which the girl could not but note. "What's the matter, Papa?" she asked, as he sank into a chair at her side. "Your self-sacrifice of last evening was all to no avail," he replied. "Bridge has been captured by Villistas." "What?" cried the girl. "You can't mean it how did you learn?" "Grayson just had a phone message from Cuivaca," he explained.
"There ain't no sich critter," replied Grayson; "but I guess that's the best I ken do. I'll send him along with Tony an' Benito they hate each other too much to frame up anything together, an' they both hate a gringo. I reckon they'll hev a lovely trip." "But they'll get back with the money, eh?" queried the boss. "If Pesita don't get 'em," replied Grayson.
Please, Miss Grayson," he continued earnestly; "I didn't ever think it was like that. We always used to do it we boys always did, and and " "You did not know then what you know now. Surely, Dexter, you will never be so cruel again." "If you don't want me to, I won't," he said quickly.
The room behind her seemed to be filled with a glow, and when they went in the fire blazed and sparkled and its red light fell across the floor. Miss Grayson, small, quiet and gray as usual, came forward to meet him. Her tiny cool hand rested in his a moment, and the look in her eyes told him as truly as the words she spoke that he was welcome. "When did you arrive?" asked Lucia.
The fields, it is to be feared, were sometimes small, but Washington hunted even if he had only his stepson or was quite alone. His diaries abound with allusions to the sport. "Went a-hunting with Jacky Custis, and catched a fox after three hours chase; found it in the creek." "Mr. Bryan Fairfax, Mr. Grayson, and Phil. Alexander came home by sunrise. Hunted and catched a fox with these.
There he found the rod floating close to the edge, and, securing it, he soon after drew in the loose branch he had cut off the tree, and disentangled his line, with the little roach still on the hook. "There!" he cried in triumph, as he ran back with rod, line, and fish; "look at that, Miss Grayson, isn't it a beauty, and What are you laughing at!"
"Ye know I'm partial to 'old maid's tipple' and Mrs. Grayson will have it ready about now, I s'pose. Stop! I'll tell her to bring it out on the side porch. It's shady there. You look like a cup would comfort you, Janice. What's the matter?" "I've lots of troubles, Elder Concannon," she said, with a sigh.
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