d resolute face, and an
appearance of manliness and self-reliance. He was well dressed, and would
have passed muster upon the streets of a city.

"How do you feel, Uncle Peter?" he asked as he stood by the bedside.

"I shall never feel better, Ernest," said the old man in a hollow voice.

"Don't say that, uncle," said Ernest in a tone of concern.

There seemed little to connect him in his strong, attractive boyhood with
the frail old man, but they had lived together for five years, and habit
was powerful.

"Yes, Ernest, I shall never rise from this bed."

"Isn't there anything I can get for you, uncle?"

"Is there--is there anything left in the bottle?" asked Peter wistfully.

Ernest walked to the shelf that held the dishes, and took from a corner a
large black bottle. It seemed light, and might be empty. He turned the
contents into a glass, but there was only a tablespoonful of whisky.

"It is almost all gone, Uncle Peter; will you have this much?"

"Yes," answered the old man tremulously.

Ernest lifted the invalid into a sitting posture, and put the glass to his
mouth.

He drained it, and gave a sigh of satisfaction.

"It is good," he said briefly.

"I wish there were more."

"It goes to the right spot. It puts strength into me."

"Shall I go to the village and buy more?"

"I--I don't know----"

"I can get back very soon."

"Very well; go, like a good boy."

"I shall have to trouble you for some money, Uncle Peter."

"Go to the trunk. You will find some."

There was a small hair trunk in another corner. Ernest knew that this was
meant, and he lifted the lid.

There was a small wooden box at the left-hand side. Opening this, Ernest
saw three five-dollar gold pieces.

"There are but three gold pieces, uncle," he announced, looking toward the
bed.

"Take one of them, Ernest."

"I wonder if that is all the money he has left?" thought Ernest.

He rose and went to the door.

"I won't be gone long, uncle," he said. He followed a path which led from
the door in an easterly direction to the village. It was over a mile away,
and consisted of a few scattering houses, a blacksmith's shop and a
store.

It was to the store that Ernest bent his steps. It was a one-story
structure, as were most of the buildings in the village. There was a sign
over the door which read:

JOE MARKS,
Groceries and Family Supplies.

Joe stood behind the counter;