Solomon turned, and cast his eye down the road and over the Random River, flowing smooth and peaceful through its great ox-bow. He recognized Dannie Snow, scuffling through the dust with his bare feet, as he drove home his father's great, placid, full-uddered cow. The comfort of the scene, the cosy pleasantness of the place among the close-coming hills, struck him, in his relieved mood, as it had never done before. Even though disappointed in political ambition, a man might live there in some content.
After all, he had thirty thousand dollars, and it had been calmly drawing interest through all his tribulations.
Consoled by this reflection, he walked to the rear of his house and began pottering about the chicken yard. Then in the Edwards garden appeared Jim. Solomon gave a slight start, and took a hesitating step or two, as if minded to flee, but restrained by shame. He watched the boy come to the fence, and climb upon it. He said nothing; he could not think of anything to say.
"That harmonica was fine!" said Jim, grinning amiably.
Mr. Peaslee was immensely relieved. If there was a momentary twinge at the thought of the money it had cost him, it was quickly gone.
"Glad ye enjoyed it. Seem 's though I wanted to give ye a little suthin'—considerin'. I hope you and your father ain't ones to lay it up agin me."
"That's all right," said Jim, grandly. "I had a bully time at the jail. Mrs. Calkins is a splendid woman. You just ought to eat one of her doughnuts!"
"Didn't know they fed ye up much to the jail," commented Solomon, puzzled.
"Oh, I wasn't locked up," said Jim, and explained.
"Well, well, I'm beat! That was clever on 'em, wa'n't it now?" said Mr. Peaslee, much pleased.