-f-fudge! Somethin's happened. Uncle Mose's leanin' on her; she's a
h-h-helpin' him! She's a w-w-w-wav-in' to me like blazes! That's no
'how-de-do' salute, that's a 'come r-r-right here' one! He's got his
axe, looks like, an's l-l-leanin' on it. F-fudge! I bet he's chopped his
foot 'stead of a t-t-tree!"

Monty's legs flew up and down like the rapidly revolving spokes of a
wheel as he hurried toward the man and girl. But after one hasty glance
at the feet of Mr. Jones, and seeing no blood on either, he knew that
whatever was amiss it was not what he had fancied. Without a word he
seized the axe from its owner's trembling hand and placed his own
sturdy little shoulder in its place. Katharine was not crying now, but
her anxiety altered her appearance strangely, and Moses was wholly past
speech. Every nerve of his tortured body was strained to reach a spot
where he could sink down and yield to the dreadful weakness which
assailed him. Even the hard floor of the barn seemed a paradise of rest,
and he fixed his eyes upon the wide doorway with a last effort of his
will.

He did reach it, but there both will and consciousness gave way to the
strain of the last hour, though the story of his pluck and endurance was
to make him more highly respected in his native town than he had ever
been before.

When he sank down fainting the children loosed their hold on either
side, Montgomery standing still in a frightened wonder, but Kate
hastening indoors for help. Rushing breathlessly into the sitting-room
where Miss Eunice was quietly arranging some yellow 'mums in a quaint
glass jar, she caught the lady's hand with a vehemence which sent the
flowers in one direction, the pretty jar in another.

"Oh, Aunt Eunice! Come quick, 'cause now he truly must be dead, after
all. Quick, quick!"

"Katharine--my dear! Why will you do such startling things? My precious
jar that has held flowers for us these generations just rescued from
destruction! And the poor flowers themselves--"

"Oh, don't bother! Please, please come. There's only Monty out there,
and I--I did what I could, but he's dead, anyway."

"Dead, child? Sir Philip dead?" asked Miss Maitland, her thoughts
instantly reverting to the only ailing member of the household.

"No, Aunt Eunice, but a person, a man--Uncle Moses."

Then, indeed, did Eunice's own hand tremble so that she set the jar she
had just preserved back on the mantel while her face paled in distress.
But she caug