Again he seemed to hear, faint and far away, the roar and surge of the troubled sea.  With face uplifted, he cried aloud, “O God, my Father, I ask thee not for the things that men deem great.  I covet not wealth, nor honor, nor ease; only peace; only that I may live free from those who do not understand; only that I may in some measure make atonement; that I may win pardon.  Oh, drive me not from this haven into the world again!”

“Again, again,” came back from the cliff on the other side of the clearing, and, as the echo died away in the silent woods, a bush on top of the bluff stirred in the breathless air; stirred, and was still again.  Somewhere up on Dewey a crow croaked hoarsely to his mate; a cow on the range bawled loudly and the sheep in the corral chorused in answer.

Re-entering the cabin, the old man quickly built a fire, then, taking the bucket, went to the spring for water.  He must prepare his breakfast.  Coming back with the brimming pail, he placed it on the bench and was turning to the cupboard, when he noticed on the table a small oblong package.  “Mr. Matthews must have left it last night,” he thought.  “Strange that I did not see it before.”

Picking up the package he found that it was quite heavy, and, to his amazement, saw that it was addressed to himself, in a strange, cramped printing, such letters as a child would make.  He ripped open the covering and read in the same crude writing:  “This stuff is for you to give to the Matthews’s and Jim Lane, but don’t tell anyone where you got it.  And don’t try to find out where it come from either, or you’ll wish you hadn’t.  You needn’t be afraid.  It’s good money alright.”  The package contained gold pieces of various denominations.

With a low exclamation, the shepherd let the parcel slip, and the money fell in a shining heap on the floor.  He stood as in a dream, looking from the gold to the letter in his hand.  Then, going to the door, he gazed long and searchingly in every direction.  Nothing 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.”