“They're red's pinys. No need to worry one mite, mister. Come out o' your water whilst I rub ye down. Then to bed with a cup o' hot tea, and hooray for Doctor Joshua Ward!”
“I might have known you were Joshua Ward when I noticed all those cats,” said Parker. So this was Colonel Gideon's brother! He was too weak and ill to feel or display much surprise at the meeting.
“Most every one hereabouts has heard o' me,” the old man admitted, mildly. “Some men have fast hosses, some men have big liberies, some men like to spend their money on paintin's an' statues. But for me, I like cats, even if they do keep me running my legs off after meat. Hey, pussy?” and he stooped and stroked the head of a huge cat that arched its back and leaned against his leg.
“Mr. Joshua Ward,” said Parker, grimly, “you'd probably like to know how I happened to be prowling round through the forest dressed up so as to play bear?”
“I was meditatin' that ye'd tell me by n' by, if it wa'n't any secret,” the old man replied, humbly.
“Well, I think you have a right to know. You possess a personal interest in the matter, Mr. Ward. I was tied up and sent away to be killed or to be turned out to die by a man named Colonel Gideon Ward.”
To Parker's surprise the old man did not stop in his rubbing, but said, plaintively, “I was almost afeard it might be some o' Gid's works, or, to say the least his puttin' up. He don't improve any as he grows older.”
“You have pretty good reason to know how much chance there is for improvement in Gideon Ward,” suggested Parker, bitterly.
“Fam'ly matters, fam'ly matters, young man,” murmured Joshua, reprovingly. “But I ain't tryin' to excuse Brother Gideon, ye understand. I'm afeard that when the time of trial does come to him, he will find that the hand of the Lord is heavy in punishment. I've had a good part of a lifetime, young man, to think all these things over in this place up here. A man gets near to God in these woods. A man can put away the little thoughts. The warm sun thaws his hate; the big winds blow out the flame of anger; the great trees sing only one song, and high or low, it's 'Hush—hush-h-h—hush-h-h-h!'” The voice of the man softly imitated the soughing of the pines.
Parker stumbled to his bunk, his feet still uncertain, drank his tea, and slept.