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"Ho, ho!" and the parson's hearty laugh rang out over the snow. "'Does he live here? I'm afraid not. Very few in Glendow know old Will Shakespeare, more's the pity." "I should like to meet him, though," remarked Dan. "He must know a lot about horses." "Ay, ay, lad, he knows a lot about most things, and you shall know him some day, Dan, when you get older. But here we are right at home.
Here is further evidence which might be of some service. Listen to this. "'Glendow, Friday, Oct. 30th, 18 Received from William Fletcher, the sum of $5,000 in gold, in an iron box, to be kept for him in trust in my safe until called for, he promising to pay me one dollar a month for the use of my safe. An intense silence now reigned in the hall. All were waiting to see what would happen next.
But a burning desire throbbed within his breast. He partly realized the situation at Glendow. There was trouble, deep, serious trouble, and he was needed. Beneath the Ashes Far away in the West the sun was sinking low as Stephen Frenelle stood on the shore looking out over his newly rafted logs.
"Oh, you'll see." "About that box?" "Yes." "Tut, tut, man. Why, they haven't a leg to stand on in that matter." "But they'll make legs. Surely you know Tom Fletcher by this time. He'll stop at nothing when once he gets started, and though he may not be able to do anything definitely, he'll do a lot of talking, and talk tells in Glendow, mark my word." And this proved only too true.