but I take it you are in a tight spot
and don't know what else to do. That girl in the snow bank--I'll be
hanged if that was ever made quite clear to me."

"It is to me, and that is sufficient," Hugh answered, while the old
colonel replied:

"Good grit, Hugh. I like you for that. In short, I like you for
everything, and that's why I was sorry about that New York lady. You
see, it may stand in the way of your getting a wife by and by, that's
all."

"I shall never marry," Hugh answered, thinking of the Golden Haired.

"No?" the colonel replied. "Well, there ain't many good enough for you,
that's a fact, and so I tell 'em when they get to--get to--"

Hugh looked up inquiringly, his face flashing as he guessed at what they
got.

"Bless me, there's ain't many girls good for anybody. I never saw but
one, except my Nell, that was worth a picayune, and that was Alice
Johnson."

"Who? Who did you say?" And Hugh grew white as marble.

The colonel replied: "I said Alice Johnson, twentieth cousin of
mine--blast that fly!--lives in Massachusetts; splendid girl--hang it
all can't I hit him?--there, I've killed him." And the colonel put up
his whip, never dreaming of the effect that name had produced on Hugh,
whose heart gave one great throb of hope, and then grew heavy and sad as
he thought how impossible it was that the Alice Johnson the colonel
knew could be the Golden Haired.

"There are fifty by that name, no doubt," he said, "and if there were
not, she is dead."

Hugh dared not question the colonel further, and was only too glad when
the latter said: "If I understand you, I can have Rocket for five
hundred dollars, provided I let you redeem him within a year. Now that's
equivalent to my lending you five hundred dollars out and out. I see,
but seeing it's you, I reckon I'll have to do it. As luck will have it,
I was going down to Frankfort this very day to put some money in the
bank, and if you say so, we'll clinch the bargain at once," and the
colonel began to count the amount.

Alice Johnson was forgotten in that moment when Hugh felt as if his very
life was dying out. Then chiding himself as weak, he lifted up his head
and said: "Rocket is yours."

The words were like a sob; and the generous old man hesitated. But Hugh
was in earnest. His debts must be paid, and that five hundred dollars
would do it.

"I'll bring him around to-morrow. Will that be time enough?" he asked,
as he rolled up the bills.

"Yes, oh