dies bare of all but their coarse woolen
undershirts, their little faces shining with wholesome soap, their
eyes bright with expectancy for the story that was to come, the two
pretty children of a lonely father. Then, in a semicircle about them,
the members of the Trust, with their hard, unclean faces, their rough
clothes and rougher manners, and their uncultured minds driven by
hearts that were--well, just human.

"Git busy," ordered Bill, when the Trust had finally settled itself.

And promptly Scipio, with more determination than discretion, cleared
his throat and plunged into his peroration.

His mild face beamed. Gentleness and affection shone in every line of
it. And somehow his diffidence, the realization of his ignorance of
the work demanded of him, were absorbed and lost to his consciousness
in the wonderful parental delight of teaching his offspring.

"Say, kiddies," he began, with that soft inflection that seems so much
a part of some men of rough manners, "I want you to listen careful to
a yarn I'm goin' to tell you about. Y'see--"

He hesitated, and unconsciously one hand was lifted and passed across
his brow with a movement that suggested puzzlement. It was as though
he were not quite sure whither his story were going to lead him.

The gambler nodded encouragingly.

"Bully," he murmured, turning his eyes just for one moment in the
little man's direction. But it was only for a moment. The next he was
staring absorbedly out at the bush opposite, like a man lost in some
train of thought far removed from the matter in hand. His beady eyes
stared unsmilingly, but with curious intentness.

However, Scipio was far too much concerned with what lay before him to
think of anything else. But the sharply spoken encouragement spurred
him, and he went ahead.

"Now, maybe you both heard tell how God made this funny old world for
us to live in," he went on, endeavoring to give lightness to his
manner. "He made Sufferin' Creek, too--"

Toby coughed, and Sandy whispered audibly to him.

"I don't guess Zip ought to run Sufferin' Creek in this yarn," he said
seriously. "Sufferin' Creek don't seem right in a Bible talk."

Scipio waited, and then, ignoring the comment, labored clumsily on.

"Now, I'm goin' to tell you a yarn about it. Y'see, kiddies--y'see,
ther' weren't a heap o' folk around when God first fixed things
right--"

"Jest one man an' a snake," interrupted Sandy in his informative way.

"Shut up,"