The Unknown Wrestler Part 20

"Do you think so?" was the eager question.

"Let us hope so, at any rate. But, come, you are worn out, and must get some sleep. Trust your trouble to the Good Shepherd. He will find some way to bring back your wandering lamb."

Douglas walked swiftly home, and obtained a little sleep before the work of the day began.

"Ye should have stayed in bed longer," Jake greeted, as he joined him at the barn.

"That's not my habit when there's work to be done," Douglas replied.

"But ye did an extry piece of work last night, though. Great punkins!

how I'd like to 'ave been there."

"So you have heard about it already, eh?"

"Sure; couldn't keep a thing like that a secret fer two hours in this place. Sandy Morgan, on his way to the wharf, stopped to tell me about it. Ho, ho, it was great."

Jake continued his milking, and when he was through, he came to where Douglas was sitting.

"I've been thinkin'," he began, "an' feel a bit uneasy about ye."

"In what way?" Douglas questioned, looking up from his milking.

"I'm uneasy about what Si will do. He'll hear only one side of the story from Ben an' the gals, an' they'll paint it as black as they kin, mark my word."

"I'm not afraid of the whole gang," Douglas replied. "What can they do to me?"

"I don't know," and Jake scratched his head in perplexity. "But I advise ye to be keerful. Si's an ugly brute when he gits his dander up, an' it's ginerally up most of the time."

Douglas was not left long in doubt as to what action Simon Stubbles would take. He was working with Jake that morning in the field back of the barn when a man approached. He carried a letter which he at once handed to Douglas.

"The boss wants an answer," he informed him. "He's in a big hurry about it, too."

Opening the letter, Douglas read the brief note, and as he did so an amused expression overspread his face. He studied it carefully for a few minutes without making any comment. Shoving it into his pocket, he was about to resume his work when the messenger stopped him.

"I want ye'r answer," he said.

"Tell your master that I shall answer him the first time I meet him,"

Douglas replied.

"But Si will give me h.e.l.l if I don't take more than that," the man whined. "He told me to bring him a 'yes' or a 'no'."

"I can't help that. If you're willing to allow Si Stubbles to treat you like a dog, you must put up with the consequences."

Douglas stood and watched the messenger as he slowly ambled back across the field.

"Poor wretch," he remarked, "he is afraid to go back to his master.

Who is he, anyway?"

"Oh, he's only Barney Tompkins," Jake replied. "He's a useless feller, with a big family. He does odd jobs fer Si, runnin' errands, sweepin'

the store, an' sich like. He's got no s.p.u.n.k."

"Like many more in this parish, if I'm not mistaken. Si doesn't want any one here who shows the least sign of s.p.u.n.k. He's given me notice to quit already."

"Great punkins! ye don't say so!"

"Yes, listen to this," and Douglas drew forth the letter from his pocket and began to read:

"JOHN HANDYMAN,

"Sir:--You have made yourself very objectionable in this place, so your presence is not wanted here any longer. I, therefore, give you notice to quit at once. This is a fair warning, and, unless you are altogether a fool, you will heed it.

"SIMON STUBBLES."

It took Jake a few seconds to grasp the full purport of these words.

When he did at last comprehend their meaning, his face darkened and he stepped over to where Douglas was standing.

"Did Si Stubbles write them words?" he demanded.

"Yes, look for yourself," and Douglas handed him the letter.

Slowly and with difficulty Jake read it through. Douglas watched him with considerable interest.

"Well, what do you think of it?" he asked. "Are you not afraid of losing your help?"

"d.a.m.n Si Stubbles!" Jake roared. It was only when wrought up to the highest pitch of fury that Jake swore, and then it was well for his enemies to beware of him. "No, I'm not afraid of losin' ye, an' Si Stubbles ain't the man wot kin drive ye away, either. You jist stay where ye are."

"I intend to," Douglas calmly replied. "But let us get on with our work."

Though outwardly calm, the letter he had received rankled in his heart.

The idea that one man could rule a whole community was abhorrent and unnatural. He had no intention of leaving, and he was determined to meet Simon Stubbles and have it out with him face to face. Suppose he should be driven from the parish, how could he ever come back again?

How could he return as rector to be the contempt and laughing-stock of all? No, he would oppose Stubbles to the bitter end. The worst they could do would be to kill him, and he was not afraid to die if necessary.

It was near evening and they were hauling in the last load of hay from the field near the road, when an auto, bearing several men, sped past.

"It's Ben bringin' the delegation from the station," Jake explained, as he watched the rapidly disappearing car.

"What delegation?" Douglas queried.

"Why, didn't I tell ye?" Jake asked in surprise. "Well, I clean fergot all about it. There's to be a big Church meetin' to-night in the hall.

Si got word an' he sent notice all around."

"What is the meeting about?" Douglas enquired.

"It has something to do with the new parson who is comin', so I understand."

"So you are to get another clergyman, are you?" Douglas asked as indifferently as possible.