The All-Story, March 1914 — page 170: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE DEVIL AND DR. FOSTER. Sain remained speechless and bewil- dered. He tried vainly to think of the word in season about which he had heard the parson preach one Sunday. He could not remember any word which seemed seasonable in the present emergency. “ \bout that spruce. Mr. Tupper,” Ike began again, lingering within safe. distance of the door. “ ]’ve just got a feeling that if vou decide to give that timber to build a new church with there will be some terrible things happen on your farm. You won't do it now, will your” Sam wondered whether, aiter all, he were only dreaming. It was widely out of harmony with his conscious actions to be sitting here, discussing so inportant a question with Oxville’s bad boy, with his blooded ram occa- sionally interpolating a remark: so, in all likelihood, he really was safely asleep in his own snug bed. and this experience was born of a piece of Huldah’s fruit cake. He pinched his leg. It hurt a little, but so it would when pinched whether he were asleep or awake. He*con- vinced himself that he was in the former state. _ \hat, then, was the right course to pursue? He remembered a statement the parson had made—that a man of rectitude had none but proper thoughts, sleeping or waking. The proper thought for him, he knew — and congratulated himself on the clarity of his intellect even though it was smothered in sluinber—was to accede to Dr. Foster's request. “T certainly will give the spruce to the parson,” he said deliberately and firmly. He had the presence ot mind to be- think himself that a promise made in a dream was not legally binding. ~The boding scowl returned to Ike Jackson’s face. “Well, you can’t say I ain’t given you fair warning,” he snapped, and before Sam could get to him he was out of the door and away. 643 4 The farmer returned to his sheep- doctoring with his mind in a maze. When that task was ended he took Shep and went aiter the cows, which it was his duty that evening to milk unaided, Wes being engaged in draw- ing and spreading manure. He carried the milk to the dairy, strained it into the pans, and performed the other routine tasks of the farm as usual, all the time wondering at the extent and realisin of his dream from which he would presently waken for break- Tast. He had just finished throwing down the hay for the horses when the deep- toned bell on the back porch sounded. ‘“ Huldah must have got supper early to-night,” he thought. “ But, there, things never do go quite straight in dreams.” The bell sounded again, more insist- ently, and the farmer realized that this Was a summons unlike that for meals. Dropping his pitchfork, he started for the house on the run. Deborah Stevens, visibly excited, stood on the porch awaiting his ap- pearanice. “Tlurry, Sam, hurry!’ she cried. “Sam's had a fit and upset all the milk in the dairy. The gray cat’s fallen down the well. Huldah’s gone to the Ladies’ Aid, and when I started the stove for supper the chimney caught fire. Gid Tarbell’s bull is loose in the front yard, so I dassent leave the house. Wurry up quick!” Between so many calls on his atten- tion Sam stopped, puzzled. This was just the way things happened in dreams, which was the only gleam of satisfaction he derived from the chaos. Deborah, who had vanished after her rehearsal, caine out again. The bull’s in Huldah’s flower-heds, and the chimney’s roaring like a royal { 7) Bengal tiger,” she called. “ Shep’s crawled under the stove, and [’m afraid he'll tip it over. Do hurry { ») up! | Even if it were a dream, Sam knew he must stick to the.nath of duty-—..