Before Steve could reply he went on: “You got some hard knocks when you were a boy, Steve, and they did you good. That is when we need them most. These are the first real blows I have ever had. I’ve always been in for a good time and had it, but I don’t believe it pays. Father is going to be no end put out with me about the loss of that coal land. I’m going home and make a clean breast of it,––then I am going to clear out. I’ve decided this morning to write Mr. Polk and see if he has any chance for me there. I know he will give it to me, if he has, for father’s sake.”
“That is just the thing,” said Steve heartily. “I feel sure he can take you in, and the game of business is so interesting there, I know you will like it, and I believe you will make good.” He extended his hand with the last words and Raymond took it with a warm clasp.
Mr. Polk’s mine was promptly opened up and 212 proved to be a valuable property. In the formation of his company some shares had been placed in the name of Stephen Langly. At the end of two years they began to yield good returns and Steve felt that this, with the income from his work, would make comfort assured for Nancy. Then came a wedding in the Follet home, and just before the company arrived for the ceremony Mr. and Mrs. Polk, her eyes shining as of old, slipped into the little parlour and placed on the carpet, for the bride and groom to stand upon, a beautiful fox-skin rug with a history.
Mr. Follet coming in a moment later nudged his wife excitedly and said:
“Can you tell where under the canopee you ever saw that before?” while she nodded smiling assent.
It caught the eye of Steve as he entered with Nancy on his arm, and he took his place upon it with firm, glad step.
Mr. and Mrs. Polk were obliged to hurry away as soon as the congratulations were over, in order to get back to New York in time for the wedding of Raymond and Nita Trowbridge,––Raymond having well fulfilled Steve’s prophecy of making good.
In the fall four years later when the mountains glowed with unusually brilliant colour, as though nature had caught the glory tints of fresh, bright 213 hope for her people, Steve and Nancy opened a new school. Its well-equipped, modern buildings crowned the old wooded mountain of Steve’s boyhood, and Steve the second, a sturdy boy, came daily with little Champ to school. The “still” had passed away with the passing of Champ, the elder, in a mountain fight, and a new day had dawned for Hollow Hut.
THE END