under his breath. Then he turned with the angry question:--

"Boy, what do you mean by playing a jig on your fiddle at such a
time as this?"

"Why, father asked me to play" returned the boy cheerily. "He
said he could walk through green forests then, with the ripple of
brooks in his ears, and that the birds and the squirrels--"

"See here, boy, who are you?" cut in Simeon Holly sternly. "Where
did you come from?"

"From home, sir."

"Where is that?"

"Why, home, sir, where I live. In the mountains, 'way up, up,
up--oh, so far up! And there's such a big, big sky, so much nicer
than down here." The boy's voice quivered, and almost broke, and
his eyes constantly sought the white face on the hay.

It was then that Simeon Holly awoke to the sudden realization
that it was time for action. He turned to his wife.

"Take the boy to the house," he directed incisively. "We'll have
to keep him to-night, I suppose. I'll go for Higgins. Of course
the whole thing will have to be put in his hands at once. You
can't do anything here," he added, as he caught her questioning
glance. "Leave everything just as it is. The man is dead."