Pippin; A Wandering Flame

ding hole, cold, wet, hungry and miserable. The water trickled in streams down the rock behind him and gathered in pools abo

chosen spirits? No! He thought of Cyrus Poor Farm. He saw the bright, cozy kitchen, the wide fireplace, the cheerful glowing of the stove. He saw the table spread with its homely, hearty fare: baked beans, done to a turn, with th

long towards dark, and then smoke. It would chirk him up good, and when Moonlighter came to fetch him, he'd find him as gay-as gay-a strong shiver seized him, and his teeth chattered. Wasn't it about time? It was growing dusk. At last,

was answered by a low moan from the sodden figure that lay stretched in the hollow under the rock. It was his last moan, Myron thought. Death was coming; this white mist was his shroud. They would find hi

e curtain, then, with a smothered shriek, he scrambled to his hands and knee

he Red Ruffian.

"Hold your darned n

Is it you, Moonlighter? Why ar

a'nt, bonehead! What'd you s'

the hollow and threw off

, young feller?" h

the boy feebly.

are wet, ain't you? Feelin' sick? I expect that cigar was a

cinnamon, cloves, cassia, and a liberal dash of cayenne pepper. "Temp'rance toddy," I have hea

tting the bottle to the boy's li

ncing round, and holding his throat. A howl of anguish brok

. Don't you feel it livenin' of you up? That's hearty! Now you'll find your legs. L

ith one hand while you eat your dinner with the other. Honest, if he didn't feel that Red Ruffi'n needed a soft snap, he wouldn't hardly have had the heart to ease them,

id Red Ruffi'n, stumbling along ov

ly sketch of the place; the Re

adn't ought to get you into this. I-I ain't

m with a grip as f

s warm and dry, and you'll see things different: not but I know you was only foolin'. Crawl now, when everything's all ready? Gee! I would

ting at every stray cat, every scrap of wind-whisked paper. Pippin, stepping lightly and softly

s trouble, if I weren't certain sure that I was right? 'He leadeth me,' you know, ma'am, and the Lord is sure lea

old chicken; the slinking

shrinking back, found himself gently but firmly propelled forward; he stumbled over the threshold and the door closed noiselessly behind him. "This way!" Pippin guided him through a passage, over an

glittering enamel, the black doors of the ovens;

think-do you think any one

le there; make it out? Now, Red Ruffi'n, this is your job, and you are goin'

iently for an hour in his dark corner, leaning on his "peel," the long broad-bladed, paddle-like implement which bore the loaves to and from the oven. Mrs. Baxt

expanse of trouser. To the father of Buster, that expanse suggested but one thing in the world. Raising the peel, he brought it

. "Mr. Baxter, sir, th

ppin's bed; and Pippin ("as per contract with the Elder," he told himself, "lettin' alone its

the boy if he could; how the Lord had come into it and played right into his hand; how the excellent baker and his wife

ifferent from spice-draught. Gee, wasn't that somethin

illows tenderly, as a woman might. Meeting his eyes, dark wi

of you?) fast as you could pick up your heels. Then what? Say you'd caught up with him and gone on to the next town, and started in breakin' and enterin'! Well, what say? Why, then you'd ben pinched and run in. Yes siree Bob! You never was built for a crook, my lad; you're too slow, and you're too-call it clumpsy. You've no quicksilver in your toes, nor yet in your fingers. You'd ben run in, and then you'd gone to Shoreham. First offense, they might let you off with six months-more likely a year, but say six months! For six months, then, you'd worked as you never worked before in your little life, alongside of men-well-the Lord made 'em, amen!-only they ain't the kind you're used to. What I would say, there's no romance about Shoreham, not a mite, and don't you forget it! (Say

ed the boy. "Oh

at do you think them two Bakin' Angels is ready to do? They stand ready to take you and make a baker of you. Now-rest easy! I got to get it all off my chest! Bakin' is as nice a trade, as pretty an all-round trade, as a man can ask for in this world. If I hadn't other things I'd undertaken to do-well, never mind that! Here you can stay, if you're a mind to, and if you feel like you've had your bellyful of breakin' and enterin', and like that; work in daylight and sunlight and free air, and eat choice food, and hear kind, decent, pleasant language and never anything else. That's what you've ben used to all your

g his face away, was about to take counsel

t know it before. Now I see it clear, and I thank you-I-I can't say what I feel, but I do sure feel it. I

ght, he bent forward eagerly. "Well

so good to me. If they'll let me, and if Mr. Baxter can wait, say a week, I'll

hour before, sent him half out of bed. Looking up in terror, he s

ve found what I was lookin'