CHAPTER VIII.
Early on the morning of this October court day, Sophronia Saunders, afriend and former schoolmate of the pretty toll-taker, went over to aneighbor's to see the housewife about weaving a rag carpet, thematerials for which were already cut and sewed and rolled into ballsready for the loom.
Sophronia had taken an early start, for she wished to know just how muchcarpet chain would be needed, so that her father could bring it fromtown with him when he returned.
The air was full of crisp freshness, which brought a wholesome glow tothe girl's plump cheeks as she walked briskly along down the dirt lane.Fallow fields stretched out on either hand, unrolling rich, varyingshades of yellow and brown, reaching away in undulating waves to wherethe frost-painted hills stood in brave array, like gay canvasesbelonging to some gorgeous theatrical scene.
Far to the southward they extended--a long, irregular chain, whoserugged heights were gradually softened and subdued by distance and theOctober mists until they finally seemed but jagged banks of amethystineclouds piled high against the horizon.
Presently the girl reached a small wood that lay between her and herdestination, and after a moment's pause, and a glance of maidenlyprecaution around, she agilely climbed the rail fence that enclosed itsboundary, and started in a diagonal line across the wooded space toshorten her walk.
Within the wood the pensive presence of Autumn dwelt. The low, gentlerustling of falling leaves in a plaintive murmuring, as if regretful atapproaching dissolution, greeted the sensitive ear at every turn. Thedrowsy air seemed haunted by vague faint-spirited voices whisperingtenderly of the past summer's joys, while in sharp contrast, now andmen, the sound of a dropping hickory nut from high up amid the brancheswhere some frisky squirrels were at play, broke as a discordant noteinto the softer leaf-music of the trees.
The ground beneath her feet was soft-carpeted with fallen leaves,drifting into rich mosaics, changing with each passing wind to newkaleidoscopic patterns of beauty and color.
At the further edge the woodland terminated abruptly in a deep ravine,which the girl must cross before her destination was reached. It was alonely, picturesque spot, skirted by underbrush and cedar bushes, andlined with gray, lichen-clad boulders, jutting out boldly in fantasticshapes on either hand. Overarching trees and vines shut out the brighterdaylight, and made a subdued twilight that kept the spot cool andshadowy even on the warmest of summer days--a hidden sylvan retreat fitfor woodland nymph or dryad.
When the girl reached this ravine she skirted its edge until she shouldcome to a place where an easier descent could be made into its shadowydepths, and had gone but a little way along its rim when, on glancingthrough an opening between the bushes, she caught sight of her neighbor,Steve Judson, coming up the dry, rocky bed of the stream, which in therainy season was changed into a brawling torrent. He had neither seenher nor heard her approach, and was quite unaware that anyone was near.
Sophronia was just on the point of calling out and asking him to giveher a helping hand in crossing the ravine, when something in hismanner--a certain cautiousness of movement and an alertness ofbearing--caught her attention and aroused her curiosity; so, keepingsilent, she drew back amid the bushes and peered through a small spacebetween the branches.
Steve clambered up the rocky defile until he reached a spot almostopposite to where Sophronia stood concealed. After a cautious glancearound, he drew from under his coat an object that looked, from herpoint of observation, like an ordinary fruit jar.
He held the jar up in front of him a few moments, looking into it withclose attention, turning it slowly around as he did so, then crossedover to the opposite side of the ravine, where, after placing his burdencarefully at the foot of a cedar tree, he began to dig a hole in theground near by.
The earth was light and yielding--the rich deposit of leaf mold of manyyears accumulation--and in a short time a hole was dug sufficientlydeep for its purpose, the jar was placed in it and covered with dirt.Some fallen leaves and loose pebbles were next scattered over therecently disturbed spot, and finally a large, flat rock laid just abovethe place where the jar had been buried.
After another cautious look of inquiry about him, when Steve had arisento his feet, he turned and went down the ravine in the direction of hishouse.
Sophronia, wondering vainly what it was that her neighbor had hidden socarefully, and with such an air of secrecy, waited until he had beenlost to sight amid the foliage, then slowly followed the course he hadtaken.
Soon she reached her destination. The Judson home was but a humble one,a dilapidated log cabin perched on the top of a rocky hill thatgradually descended to the ravine which its owner had but latelyquitted.
An air of neglect and shiftlessness hung heavily about the spot, forSteve was a person who would willingly sit for hours on a rail fenceindustriously whittling and talking politics, which was a favoritetheme, but when it came to the driving of a needed nail in a looseplank, or repairing a break in a fence, he seldom had the time orinclination to engage in so prosaic an occupation. Selling off the stockwas preferable to mending the fence, and when a shed tumbled down thebroad canopy of heaven must thenceforth of necessity be a shelter.
Judson was making ready to go to town when the visitor arrived. He hadnot missed a court day since early boyhood, and no farm work was eversufficiently important to keep him at home on such occasion.
When the girl explained her errand, he readily agreed to deliver anymessage she might wish to send her father, and to see to the bringingout of the needed carpet chain, while Mrs. Judson said, persuasively:
"'Phrony, I do wish you'd stay an' show me about cuttin' out a sackpattern. I'm as lost as if I was in the Roosian sea when it comes tocuttin' out things."
"An' it won't be puttin' you to too much trouble to see about thechain?" the girl asked of the man.
"It's just as easy as rollin' off a log," answered the complaisant host,who was of a most obliging disposition, and ever ready to attend toanybody's and everybody's business save his own.
"Now, Steve Judson, don't you forgit that carpet chain!" his wife calledout admonishingly, in a shrill treble, as her husband rode off. "Men airsech forgitful critters 'bout rememberin'," she added complainingly toher visitor.
It was close upon noon when Sophronia started home, and she once moreshortened the distance, choosing the ravine, and the way through thewoods.
"I do wonder what he was buryin' so carefully up there?" she askedherself as she stopped in the ravine and looked up its shadowy depths.
The spot at which she had seen her neighbor digging was only a shortdistance away; in fact, she could almost see the exact location fromwhere she now stood. She hesitated and gazed longingly up the ravine. Adaughter of Eve, the impulse of investigation was strong upon her. Ifshe only dared to venture farther up the shaded recesses to the spotwhere Steve had been digging! And why should she not dare? She would bequite free from interruption, for her neighbor was safe in town by now,and this remote place was rarely frequented.
She dallied with the temptation, casting yearning glances toward thecharmed locality, and finally, almost before she realized the fact, shewas standing beneath the very tree at whose foot the mysteriousinterment had taken place but a few hours ago.
With a glance of caution about her, such as he, too, had given, shesuddenly stooped down and with some little difficulty moved the largeflat rock that had been placed to mark the spot. Near by she found asharp-pointed stick, the same that he had used, and with it began toscrape away the loose earth which hid the object of her search.
It proved to be a glass fruit jar, a plain jar having a metal topscrewed down on a ring of rubber, and within was a roll of somethingwrapped in a scrap of newspaper. What in the world could it be?
Sophronia tried the lid, but it was firmly screwed on. As she had gonethis far, however, she did not mean to be thwarted at such an earlystage of her investigation, so grasping the jar tightly between herknees, she made a more effective
effort at loosening the lid, and soonhad the top off and the contents of the jar in her lap.
She gave a low exclamation of astonishment as she unrolled to view anumber of bank notes, mostly new, and of small denominations--ones, twosand fives. As Sophronia carefully fingered the bills, noting their valueand the number the roll contained, her eyes opened wide with surprise atthe sight of so much money.
No wonder her neighbor had exercised such caution in concealing histreasure. Here was a larger amount of money than she had ever imaginedhe would possess. How had he ever come into the ownership of such a sum?Could he have stolen it, and from whom?
The girl hastily counted the bills. "_Goodness!_" she exclaimed. It wasninety-five dollars in all--a small fortune indeed for a person inJudson's situation. How came he with such booty, for booty it must be,since he had never been known to save a dollar in his life, yet here wasquite a snug little fortune that had been acquired by some unknownmeans.
SOPHRONIA SOON HAD THE LID OFF, AND THE CONTENTS OF THEJAR IN HER LAP.]
As Sophronia puzzled over the matter, her eyes chanced to fall on thescrap of paper in which the money had been wrapped, and smoothing outthe paper, she slowly read the reward offered by the President of theTurnpike Corporation, for any information that would lead to the arrestand conviction of the raiders, whose recent deeds of violence were amenace to the community.
So this, then, was a solution to the problem vexing her brain! SteveJudson must have betrayed the raiders, and this money was the largerpart of the spoils he had received. He certainly could not haveaccumulated such an amount otherwise, for his ill-kept, sterile patch ofground scarcely yielded a poor living.
As Sophronia sat looking first at the money then at the printed reward,the fear of detection suddenly came over her. Whether it was ill-gottengain, or not, the money certainly was not hers, and she had no right tothus unearth it from its secret hiding place. Suppose some one shoulddiscover her in the act!
Alarmed at the mere thought, she hastily wrapped the scrap of paperaround the money, and dropping the roll in the jar, screwed on the lidand reburied the treasure, taking care to leave the place looking quiteas she had found it. Then she hastily quitted the spot.