othing unusual met his eye. Turning back into the cabin again, he
caught up the letter he had written, and stepped to the fireplace,
an expression of relief upon his face. But with his hand
outstretched toward the flames, he paused, the letter still in his
grasp, while the expression of relief gave way to a look of fear.

"The bank," he muttered; "the robbery." The shining pieces on the
floor seemed to glisten mockingly; "No, no, no," said the man.
"Better the other way, and yet--" He read the letter again. "It's
good money, alright; you needn't be afraid."

In his quandary, he heard a step without and looking up saw Pete
in the open door.

The boy's sensitive face was aglow, as he said; "Pete's glad this
morning; Pete saw the sky. Did Dad see the sky?"

Mr. Howitt nodded; then, moved by a sudden impulse, pointed to the
money, and said, "Does Pete see this? It's gold, all gold."

The boy drew near with curious eyes. "Dad doesn't know where it
came from," continued the shepherd. "Does Pete know?"

The youth gave a low laugh of delight; "Course Pete knows. Pete
went up on Dewey this morning; 'way up to the old signal tree, and
course he took me with him. The sky was all soft and silvery, an'
the clouds was full, plumb full of gold, like that there." He
pointed to the yellow coins on the floor. "Didn't Dad see? Some of
it must o' spilled out."

"Ah, yes, that was God's gold," said the older man softly.

The lad touched his friend on the arm, and with the other hand
again pointed to the glittering heap on the floor. "Pete says that
there's God's gold too, and Pete he knows."

The man started and looked at the boy in wonder; "But why, why
should it come to me at such a time as this?" he muttered.

"'Cause you're the Shepherd of Mutton Hollow, Pete says. Don't be
scared, Dad. Pete knows. It's sure God's gold."

The shepherd turned to the fireplace and dropped the letter he had
written upon the leaping flames.

CHAPTER XXII.

A LETTER FROM OLLIE STEWART.

The Postoffice at the Forks occupied a commanding position in the
northeast corner of Uncle Ike's cabin, covering an area not less
than four feet square.

The fittings were in excellent taste, and the equipment fully
adequate to the needs of the service: an old table, on legs
somewhat rickety; upon the table, a rude box, set on end and
divided roughly into eight pigeon holes, duly numbered; in the
table, a drawer, filled a little with stamps and