The All-Story, March 1914 — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

654 “TY can't make head or tail to it,” he exclaimed, “and [in going home! You can stay here until milking-time if you Inke to, but I've got to catch some sleep. Remember me to Uncle Peter.” He turned to leave, greatly disgust- ed, but Ike caught him by the strap of his suspenders and said plaintively: ‘Say, Mr. Tupper. you ain’t going to give that spruce timber for a new church, are you?” “T don't see why I shouldn’t, ’s long as this business has trazzled out the way it has,” Sain returned. “If we could have found that box I might have been willing to say something else.” “Til do anything you want me to do if you won't,” said the boy. “Such as what? If you're no better at other things than you are at getting hidden treasure, you couldn’t do much.” “Tt wasn’t my fault that the light went out. It was that darned old sheep’s.”’ * What became of the hole, then, I'd like to know?” Sam demanded. “T don't know. Hidden treasure’s queer that way. Sometimes the only way to get it is by not saying a word, and if you say only but one it just disappears.” “That's so,” Sam admitted, remem- bering to have heard of such phe- nomena. “ P’rhaps you had something on you, like a Bible or a prayer - book, that worked wrong for us.” “T haven't got anything like that,” Sam declared. “ There isn’t anything in my pockets except my Jjack-knife and—"’ He drew forth a scrap of printed paper from the vicinity of his hip. It was a leaf from the Suiday-School Ad- wocate, enclosing some flowering beans Wes's wife had sent over to Huldah for planting, which had lain so long forgotten in his overalls that Sam was ashamed to deliver them. “‘ By gravy, I forgot about that!” “Then, that’s what made the trouble —that and Bucyrus,” Ike explained. “Tt’s no good looking any more to- THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE, night. But Ll can do lots more things besides find treasure if you won't give that spruce.” “ You pester me to death about that spruce,’ said Sam. you can do.” * Why—why—anything. You try,” said the boy. * Pil think it over and Jet you know in a week,” Sam gave in suddenly. He was less impressed with Ike’s claims of power than with the exhibi- tion he had witnessed to-night. A by who could endure fire that way might be useful in many directions, such as scalding hogs or burning over pastures. He almost envied Uncle Peter possts- sion of him until he remembered that Huldah never could have borne to have him round the house. “ Now [’'m going out first, and I'll take the spading-fork so you won't have to bother.” He negotiated the exit successfully, except that his broad shoulders stuck for a couple of minutes at the outer opening; and with his arms pinned to his sides he was helpless to ward off Bucyrus, who licked his face all over twice, finding it of a pleasant, salty flavor. The ram’s tongue was s0 clammy that Sam was almost pro- voked to protanity. He got free at last, and, rejoiced to be under the open sky again, made quick work of the trip home, and slid into bed without disturbing his still slumbering wife. Pondering what had befallen him during the next two days, he could no longer doubt that Ike Jackson, the nameless foundling, was possessed of supernatural powers, and had seen fit because of interest in the proposed new church to manifest them in his direction. Whence the powers sprang, who could sav? Of far greater importance, as Sam saw it, was that they should be di- verted into channels profitable to him. Working in the broad daylight at pro saic farm duties, he realized how groundless had been his. fears en dhtas ‘“ Just tell me what