side.When they were half-way across Louis saw that he had no chance of making the landing; so, like a sensible horse, he turned and made for the shore.Here, too, the banks were high, and the pony began to grow discouraged.
"Let him float down further!" shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement;and, urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony down the stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high water.Then she threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the neck and the horn of his saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, he scrambled up the bank, dragging The Pilot with him.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, almost tearfully."You see, you couldn't get across."The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped out:
"I can!" and pitched headlong.With a little cry she flew to him, and turned him over on his back.In a few moments he revived, sat up, and looked about stupidly.
"Where's Louis?" he said, with his face toward the swollen stream.
"Safe enough," she answered; "but you must come in, the rain is just going to pour."But The Pilot seemed possessed.
"No, I'm going across," he said, rising.
Gwen was greatly distressed.
"But your poor horse," she said, cleverly changing her ground; "he is quite tired out."The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the storm was past.So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot turned toward the house.
Of course I knew what would happen.Before the evening was over he had captured the household.The moment he appeared with dry things on he ran to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and silent, opened it and began to play.As he played and sang song after song, the Old Timer's eyes began to glisten under his shaggy brows.But when he dropped into the exquisite Irish melody, "Oft in the Stilly Night," the old man drew a hard breath and groaned out to me:
"It was her mother's song," and from that time The Pilot had him fast.It was easy to pass to the old hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," and then The Pilot said simply, "May we have prayers?" He looked at Gwen, but she gazed blankly at him and then at her father.
"What does he say, dad?"
It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the deep tan, as he said:
"You may, sir.There's been none here for many years, and the worse for us." He rose slowly, went into the inner room and returned with a Bible.
"It's her mother's," he said, in a voice deep with emotion."I put it in her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines."The Pilot, without looking at him, rose and reverently took the book in both his hands and said gently:
"It was a sad day for you, but for her--" He paused."You did not grudge it to her?""Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her." The Old Timer's tears were flowing.
