ently Tom Belcher
had offered to buy the farm. In fact, he was calling him up every day
about it. He could sell it to-morrow and then he could move to
Greenville. The children were paying part of their expenses. But without
his help, two of them at least would have to leave college. What was
more, they would have to go to work to help him now. The interest from
what he could get for the farm would not keep him going--and farming was
the only thing he knew how to do.

But why shouldn't they help him? He had already done for them more than
any neighbour had done for his children. True, his greatest ambition
would be unrealized. But, as the doctor said, you had to trim your sails
in this life. Why should he carry on a fight when he had been stricken?
God did not expect a crippled man to run a race.

Also, he was frightened for his life. He carried within his body an
enemy that might strike him down at any moment. Then, rather pleasantly,
he forecast his life in town. He had fought hard, and now he could lay
his armour down, and no one would think any the less of him.

And so he sat pondering, thinking first of his children, for whom he had
had such high ambitions, then of himself, who would like to live his
allotted span, when across the pasture he saw blind Mac coming. It was a
hot September afternoon, and he had evidently been to the creek to cool
off and to get away from flies. He came steadily along, and though
nobody was near his tail was gently wagging.

The rear lot gate had been left open so the cattle could go to pasture,
and the dog came through the gate and across the barn lot. This brought
him to the fence that separated the lot from the yard, and before this
fence he stopped and felt about with his foot, tail still wagging. Tom
Jennings did not speak but watched him with queer emotions.

Having located the fence the blind dog backed off, looked up as if
trying to see, started to spring, hesitated, started again, and finally
leaped. His front paws hooked over the top plank, and he pulled himself
up, remained balanced another moment, then jumped into the yard. It was
as neatly done as if he were not blind. Tail still wagging, he came
across the yard.

But Martha had forgotten at last: in the middle of the yard was a
chicken coop she had recently moved there. Tom started to call out a
warning, then for some queer reason did not. Over the unexpected
obstacle the dog stumbled and came near falling. He let out