no one suspected. Wetherell forgot the matter in hand.

"Why don't you put that on paper?" he exclaimed.

Jethro smiled, and made a deprecating motion with his thumb.

"Sometimes when I hain't busy, I drop into the state library at the
capital and enjoy myself. It's like goin' to another world without any
folks to bother you. Er--er--there's books I'd like to talk to you
about--sometime."

"But I thought you told me you didn't read much, Mr. Bass?"

He made no direct reply, but unfolded the newspaper in his hand, and then
Wetherell saw that it was only a clipping.

"H-happened to run across this in a newspaper--if this hain't this
county, I wahn't born and raised here. If it hain't Coniston Mountain
about seven o'clock of a June evening, I never saw Coniston Mountain.
Er--listen to this."

Whereupon he read, with a feeling which Wetherell had not supposed he
possessed, an extract: and as the storekeeper listened his blood began to
run wildly. At length Jethro put down the paper without glancing at his
companion.

"There's somethin' about that that fetches you spinnin' through the air,"
he said slowly. "Sh-showed it to Jim Willard, editor of the Newcastle
Guardian. Er--what do you think he said?"

"I don't know," said Wetherell, in a low voice.

"Willard said, 'Bass, w-wish you'd find me that man. I'll give him five
dollars every week for a letter like that--er--five dollars a week.'"

He paused, folded up the paper again and put it in his pocket, took out a
card and handed it to Wetherell.

James G. Willard, Editor.
Newcastle Guardian.

"That's his address," said Jethro. "Er--guess you'll know what to do with
it. Er--five dollars a week--five dollars a week."

"How did you know I wrote this article?" said Wetherell, as the card
trembled between his fingers.

"K-knowed the place was Coniston seen from the 'east, knowed there wahn't
any one is Brampton or Harwich could have done it--g-guessed the
rest--guessed the rest."

Wetherell could only stare at him like a man who, with the halter about
his neck, has been suddenly reprieved. But Jethro Bass did not appear to
be waiting for thanks. He cleared his throat, and had Wetherell not been
in such a condition himself, he would actually have suspected him of
embarrassment.

"Er--Wetherell?"

"Yes?"

"W-won't say nothin' about the mortgage--p-pay it when you can."

This roused the storekeeper to a burst of protest, but he stemmed it.