"I scarcely think a woman of her age would be so imprudent," replied her husband. "She may, however, have gone to the village, and taken the child with her for safe keeping. It would be well, Tom, to go down and see." Tom was hurrying along, when a lad called out,-- "Did the old woman find Bub?" and he related how she came there in search of him. This startled Tom, and, hastening back, he told Mr. Payson what he had heard. "Perhaps, then," said the minister, "the old lady got tired of waiting for me, and took Bub home with her. You may take the team and ride over there." Finding that Mr. Smith had not seen his wife, Tom at once concluded that there must be something seriously wrong; and he said,-- "I was told at the village that your wife was there, trying to find Bub. It may be they are both lost in the woods. Now, if you will get the settlers about here together, I will rouse the villagers, and we will make a search." We have already described the finding of the lost woman. The ground on the side of the river next to the minister's cabin had been looked over repeatedly, and no one seemed to think it possible that the child had crossed the river, and the conclusion came to be general that he had either been carried off by a wild beast, or fallen into the water, and been drowned; and preparations were made for dragging the stream for the body, when one of the party saw a bit of cloth, which Tom recognized as torn from Bub's dress, flaunting from a twig on the tree-bridge. "He must be on the other side!" cried Tom; and, with new hope, the party rushed to explore the field, shouting his name. "Here I be!" answered a childish voice; and they found him seated on the ground, composedly picking the kernels from an ear of corn, the channels which the tears had ploughed on his unwashed cheeks being the only evidence of the sorrows through which he had passed; and he said, with the air of one whose feelings had been wounded by undeserved neglect,-- "I hasn't had any dinner." Some theologians tell us that the sinful should never be addressed through their fears; that love can only reform the erring. Perhaps Mrs. Smith was unlike the rest of the race; but the terrors of that night wrought a change in her; and Mr. Payson was surprised one day by Mr. Smith's calling at his cabin with a fine quarter of beef, saying, as he lugged it in,-- "I've been killing an ox, elder; and wife thought, if you wouldn't be offended, that I'd better bring you down a piece;" adding, as he rose to go, "Here's that due-bill that you gave me for the improvements on the ten acres. Wife says you've paid enough on it; so I've receipted it, and will call it square, if you will. And, by the way, when you are out of butter, just send over to our house; we can spare you a few pounds, now and then, just as well as not." CHAPTER XII. FIRE AND FLOOD.