Part 20 (1/2)

When he had finished, the postmaster said earnestly, ”Mr. Parker, however much old Gid Ward owes you, you owe Josh Ward a good deal more.

He ain't a man to dun for his pay. But if he ever does ask you to square the account you won't be the man I take you for if you don't settle. If you feel that you owe me anything for the little service I've done you and your bus'ness, just take and add it to the Josh Ward account. Of all the men on earth I pity that man the most.”

There were tears in Dodge's eyes when he stumbled down the tavern stairs.

One cheerful moment for Parker had been when the postmaster informed him of Sunkhaze's equilibrium in the matter of news-monging But a more cheerful moment was when Mank, his foreman, standing with him on the ice above the submerged Swogon told him that a sandbar made out into the lake at that point and that the locomotive was probably lodged on the bar, only a little way below the surface.

When they had sawed the ice and sounded they found this to be true. As soon as a broad square of ice had been removed they saw her, all her outlines clear against the white sand. The sunken sleds were equally in evidence. It was not a diver's job, then, as Parker, in his worryings, had feared. On the thick ice surrounding the whole there was solid foothold for the raising apparatus and Parker's crew set at work with good cheer.

It was a cold, wet and tedious job, the grappling and the raising, but his derricks were strong and his rigging plentiful. Moreover, the water was not deep.

All the material that could not be recovered by the grapples was duplicated by means of quick replies to wired orders, and the work of transportation across the lake was successfully completed.

It was well into a warm May, and his men for the last week had been moving soil and building culverts before the case of Col. Gideon Ward was brought to Parker's attention in a manner requiring action. One evening just after dusk his foreman scratched on the flap of the engineer's tent, in which he was now living at Poquette.

”Come in!” he called.

The canvas was lifted and a man entered. Parker turned the reflector of his lantern on the visitor.

”Joshua Ward!” he exclaimed, as he started up and seized the old man's outstretched hand.

He led him to a camp-stool. They looked at each other for a time in silence. Tears trembled on Joshua's eyelashes, and he pa.s.sed his knotted hand over his face before he spoke.

”Mr. Parker,” he said, tremulously, ”I've come to bring ye money to pay for every cent's worth o' damage to property 'an loss o' time an'

everything.” He laid a package in the young man's hand. ”Help yourself,”

he quavered. ”I'm goin' to trust to your honesty, for I'm certain I can.

Take what's right. Gid and I don't know anythin' about railroads an'

what such things as you lost are worth. All we can do is to show that we mean to square things the best we can now. Gid's sorry now, Mr. Parker, he's sorry--sorry--sorry--poor Gid!” The old man sobbed outright.

”Did he--” The young man paused, half-fearing to ask the question.

Joshua again ran his rough palm across his eyes. Then, in dumb grief, he set the edge of his right hand against his left wrist, the left hand to the right wrist, and then marked a place on each leg above the ankle.

”All off there, Mr. Parker.” The old man bent his head into his hollowed palms. Tears trickled through his fingers. There was a long silence. The young man did not know how to interrupt that pause.

”I'm feedin' an' tendin' him like I used to when he was a baby an' I a six-year-old. He's at my camp, Mr. Parker. He don't ever want to be seen agin in the world, he says--only an old, trimmed, dead tree, he says.

Poor old Gid! No matter what he's been, no matter what he's done, you'd pity him now, Mr. Parker, for the hand o' punishment has fell heavy on my poor brother.”

The engineer, truly shocked, stood beside Joshua, and placed his hand on the bowed shoulders.

”Mr. Ward,” he said, with a quiver in his voice, ”never will I do anything to add one drop to the bitterness in the cup that has come to you and yours.”

”I told Gid, I told Gid,” cried the old man, ”that you'd say somethin'

like that! I had to comfort him, you know, Mr. Parker; but I felt that you, bein' a young man, couldn't make it too hard for us old men. He ain't the same Gid now. See here, sir!”

With tremulous hands he drew a paper from his pocket and handed it to Parker. It was a writing giving sole power of attorney to Joshua Ward.

The old man pointed to a witnessed scrawl--a shapeless hieroglyph at the bottom of the sheet.