sugar off, sly’s he is, w’thout folks gettin’ some kind o’ notion about it, an’ they say’s he’s cleared thousands an’ thousands o’ dollars.  I expect they ain’t overshot the mark nuther, for he’s got six hundred new buckets this spring, and Bill Sims, he’s been in with ’em the last two years, ’n he says there ain’t no sugar orchard to compare, except Squire White’s over in Mill Creek, and he’s often taken in three thousand pounds off his’n.”

Ike sighed as he paused, breathless.  “It’s jest my luck, allers knockin’ about ’n them woods ’s I am, not to have struck trail on that air orchard.  I could ha’ bought it’s well’s not in the fust on’t, if it had been put up to vendue, ‘s’t oughter ben, an’ nobody knowin’ what ’twas wuth.”

Elder Kinney was almost overcome by this unhoped-for corroboration of his instincts; clearing up of his difficulties.  His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears as he replied:—­

“Well, Ike, the longest lane has a turnin’.  It’s my belief that God doesn’t often let dishonest people prosper very long.  We shall see what becomes of Ganew.  Where does he live?  I’d like to see him.”

“Well, he don’t live nowhere, ’s near’s anybody can find out.  He’s in the camp with the gang about six weeks, sometimes eight; they say’s it’s a kind of settlement down there, an’ then he’s off again till sugarin’ comes round; but he’s dreadful sharp and partikler about the taxes, I tell you, and he’s given a good deal too, fust and last, to the town.  Folks say he wants to make ’em satisfied to let him alone.  He’s coming up here again to-morrow with two more loads of buckets, sir:  if ’twouldn’t be too much trouble for you to come here agin so soon,” added poor Ike, grasping at the chance of seeing the Elder again.

“Well, I think perhaps I’ll come,” replied the Elder, ashamed again of the readiness with which he found himself taking to tortuous methods, “if I’m not too busy.  What time will he be here?”

“About this same time,” said Ike.  “He don’t waste no time, mornin’ nor evenin’.”

The Elder went away soon, leaving poor Ike half unhappy.

“He’s got somethin’ on his mind, thet’s plain enough,” thought the loving old soul.  “I wonder now ef it’s a woman; I’ve allus thought the Elder war’nt no sort of man to live alone all his days.”

“Dear, good little Draxy,” thought the Elder, as he walked down the road.  “How shall I ever tell the child of this good luck, and how shall I manage it all for the best for her?”

Draxy’s interests were in good hands.  Before night Elder Kinney had ascertained that there had never been any sale of this land since it was sold to “the New York chap,” and that Ganew’s occupation of it was illegal.  After tea the Elder sat down and wrote two letters.

The first one was to Draxy, and ran as follows:—­

“My dear child:—­

“I received your letter last night, and by the Lord’s help I have found out all about your father’s land today.  But I shall write to your father about it, for you could not understand.