saddle--though for that matter he rarely used one--and he loved the
forest. A half-day away from the mistress's eye was clear delight. She
had said nothing against a gun or a fishing line and not even the best
guide in that region knew better the secret of wood and stream than this
other descendant of the Micmacs.

The maid he had teased was glad to be quit of him and hurried to dish up
his portion of the dinner, while Mrs. Hungerford returned to desk to
write a letter to her brother and to safely make all into a little
packet, marked: "Private and Important."

She had told her companions of Anton's trip and Dorothy sped out of
doors to beg the lad:

"If you see any new flowers, some of those wild orchids Miss Greatorex
read grew around here, will you bring me some? Just a few for specimens,
to press for Father John and Mr. Seth? They would be so pleased and I
will be so grateful. Will you?"

Anton nodded. Promises were easy to make, and to break if he wished.
Then came a maid from the kitchen with a message for her home, a tiny
clearing on the edge of the "further wood." To her, also, a promise was
readily spoken; and master Anton thrusting the securely tied packet of
letters into his pocket, bowed to Mrs. Hungerford with a third and more
important promise.

"'Tis of a truth I will deliver this into the hand of the man they call
a Judge. It is a tedious task, yes, but I will so deliver it. Mayhap he
too remembers what the Scripture says."

He uttered the last sentence in a low tone, with a furtive glance
houseward, and bearing himself with an air of great complacency. He had
become a very important person just then, had Anton, the "bound out."
Moreover, he was wholly honest in his determination so to deliver the
letters. That Judge in the woods hadn't heard the mistress's opinion
about payment and it wasn't necessary that he should. Other farm hands
had witnessed to the liberality of those odd men who lived in a tent,
wore old clothes when they could wear new, and cooked their own food
when they might have had others cook for them. Anton was not afraid to
trust his "payment" to the man who owned the letters in that packet.

Now it so happened that Molly was riding about the grounds and up and
down a leafy lane upon a gentle horse that her father had engaged for
her own and Dorothy's enjoyment while on that lonely farm. She used the
creature far more than Dorothy, as was natural and right enough; and had
mounted