sobbing feebly, in his arms--he knew that
his vengeance had been made for ever impossible. He longed fiercely to
grasp the fellow's hand, and make some poor attempt to thank him. But he
mastered the impulse--Sarah must not be forgotten. He strode down the
bank. One of the hands had taken Stevie, and MacPherson was leaning
against a pile of boards, panting for breath. Vandine stepped up to him,
his fingers twitching, and struck him a furious blow across the mouth
with his open hand. Then he turned aside, snatched Stevie to his bosom,
and started up the bank. Before going two paces, however, he paused, as
if oppressed by the utter stillness that followed his astounding act.
Bending a strange look on the young man, he said, in a voice as harsh as
the saw's:--

"I _was_ going to kill you to-night, Sandy MacPherson. But now after
this day's work of yourn, I guess yer safe from me from this out." He
shut his mouth with a snap, and strode up through the piles of sawdust
toward the cottage on the hill.

As for MacPherson, he was dumbfounded. Though no boaster, he knew he had
done a magnificently heroic thing, and to get his mouth slapped for it
was an exigency which he did not know what to do with. He had staggered
against the boards from the force of the stroke, but it had not occurred
to him to resent it, though ordinarily he was hot-blooded and quick in a
quarrel. He stared about him sheepishly, bewildered and abashed, and
unspeakably aggrieved. In the faces of the mill-hands who were gathered
about him, he found no solution of the mystery. They looked as
astonished as himself, and almost equally hot and ashamed. Presently he
ejaculated, "Well, I swan!" Then one of the men who had taken out the
"bateau" and picked him up, found voice.

"I'll be gosh-darned ef that ain't the damnedest," said he, slowly.
"Why, so, I'd thought as how he was a-goin' right down on his
prayer-handles to ye. That there kid is the apple of his eye."

"An' he was sot on _killin'_ me to-night, was he?" murmured MacPherson
in deepest wonderment. "What might his name be, anyhow?"

"'Lije Vandine," spoke up another of the hands. "An' that's his
grandchild, Stevie. I reckon he must have a powerful grudge agin you,
Sandy, or he'd never 'a' acted that way."

MacPherson's face had grown suddenly serious and dignified. "Is the
boy's father and mother livin'?" he inquired.

"Sarah Vandine's living with the old man," answered the foreman, "and as
fine a