"Oh, no," she said; "we should get it worse nor ever. Dad would a'most kill Benny." And the tears welled up into her eyes again.

"I's not goin' to risk it," said Benny stoutly. "I's 'ad hidin's enough to last me a lifetime."

"Ay, ay," said Joe. "I wonder, now—" And he looked reflectively into the fire.

"What are 'e a-wonderin' on?" queried Benny.

But Joe was silent. He had evidently got hold of some idea which he was trying to work out. At length he looked up and said,

"Now, away with yer, an' come here again this ev'ning at six o'clock. D'ye hear?"

"Ay, ay," was the response; and away they bounded, leaving Joe alone to his meditations.

Joe remained some time after they were gone in one position, scratching his head most vigorously, and would doubtless have remained much longer had he not been disturbed by the men who had come to their work, and who set him at liberty from his watch until darkness should again come down upon the earth. Joe walked leisurely to his home as if burdened with some great thought, ate his morning meal in silence, and then went to bed, and lay tossing for full two hours ere he could find a wink of sleep.

Joe Wrag had been for many years a complete enigma to a number of well-meaning people, who had become much interested in this silent and thoughtful man, and were anxious to know more about him than he cared to reveal. Several "town missionaries" had tried to make something out of him, but had utterly failed. He had never been known to enter a house of prayer, and whether in the matter of religious knowledge and belief he was a heathen or a Christian was an open question; and yet, notwithstanding this, he lived a life that in many respects was worthy of the imitation of many who made greater professions.