He stood a moment looking up at me, and gasping for breath. “Cricket Heron!” he exclaimed, presently, and stood gazing up at me in silence for half a moment, and supporting himself on a front wheel. “Say, boy,” said he, in a voice that betrayed his agitation, “excuse me, but you'll have to find other company. You've wore me out.” He paused half a moment for breath, and went on: “When a sack o' potatoes sets down beside ye an' opens conversation, it's a little more than I can stan'.” He resumed his seat and took a look at me, and added, with a laugh, “You'd scare the devil.” In a few words I told my story, and he seemed to believe and to pity me. He put a few queries, and I answered freely. “You better go home an' tell the truth about it,” he said, as he hurried the horses. “The only thing I don't like about you is your runnin' away. God hates a coward, an' He don't seem to care if a coward suffers. Take that thing off. Be a man; don't be a sack o' potatoes. You'd cheat the man that bought ye for two bushels o' potatoes. They're worth more than a coward.” He untied the string above my head, and I took off the sack. The lights of the village were just ahead. He drove to a store whose proprietor was awaiting him. There he paid me the sum of six dollars for my work, and I left him and went to a small inn. So ended the adventure of the potato-sack. It taught me that a man is never so good as the thing he tries to be, whether it is a hero or a sack of potatoes. ADVENTURE VIII.--IN WHICH CRICKET MEETS THE COLONEL AND THE YOUNG MISS [Illustration: 9093] LAY until after midnight groping in the mine of thought which Mr. Baker had laid open. It was a new kind of exercise, and, for one thing, after digging in my conceit awhile, I found a brain. It was not a large find, but there are some, surely, who go through life without as good luck. It was the most impudent brain I ever knew. “You're a fool and a coward,” it seemed to say to me. “What are you going to do?” “Look for employment,” I suggested. “That's what I'm doing, and you're the only one in the world who can give it. Try me.” And I did--thought it all over, and began to make rules for the regulation of my conduct. Thereafter I would be brave; no more skulking for me. I was up at daybreak with a new tone in my voice. That morning I spent half of my money for a new flannel shirt and some fresh underwear. I felt very brave and careless when I started for Summerville with the village behind me. It was a walk of seven miles, and nothing happened except Sam, who had driven over in a buggy and come down the road to meet me. He was dressed up, and had a dreamy eye and a red face. “What luck?” I queried. “Ain't seen her yet,” he said. “Get in here. I'm so scairt I'm all of a tremble. You got through all right?” “Yes.” “So the old man said. Thought he'd die laughin' 'bout the potato-sack.” “He cured me of being a coward.”