THE POWER AND THE GLORY By GRACE MACGOWAN COOKE Author of "Mistress Joy," "Huldah," "Their First Formal Call," etc. WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR I. KELLER 1910 TO HELEN CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE BIRTH OF A WOMAN-CHILD II. THE BIRTH OF AN AMBITION III. A PEAK IN DARIEN IV. OF THE USE OF FEET V. THE MOCCASIN FLOWER VI. WEAVERS AND WEFT VII. ABOVE THE VALLEY VIII. OF THE USE OF WINGS IX. A BIT OF METAL X. THE SANDALS OF JOY XI. THE NEW BOARDER XII. THE CONTENTS OF A BANDANNA XIII. A PATIENT FOR THE HOSPITAL XIV. WEDDING BELLS XV. THE FEET OF THE CHILDREN XVI. BITTER WATERS XVII. A VICTIM XVIII. LIGHT XIX. A PACT XX. MISSING XXI. THE SEARCH XXII. THE ATLAS VERTEBRA XXIII. A CLUE XXIV. THE RESCUE XXV. THE FUTURE ILLUSTRATIONS "Yes, I'm a-going to get a chance to work right away," she smiled up at him. _Frontispiece_ He loomed above them, white and shaking. "You thieves!" he roared. "Give me my bandanner! Give me Johnnie's silver mine!" "Lost--gone! My God, Mother--it's three days and three nights!" The car was already leaping down the hill at a tremendous pace. CHAPTER I THE BIRTH OF A WOMAN-CHILD "Whose cradle's that?" the sick woman's thin querulous tones arrested the man at the threshold. "Onie Dillard's," he replied hollowly from the depths of the crib which he carried upside down upon his head, like some curious kind of overgrown helmet. "Now, why in the name o' common sense would ye go and borry a broken cradle?" came the wail from the bed. "I 'lowed you'd git Billy Spinner's, an' hit's as good as new." Uncle Pros set the small article of furniture down gently. "Don't you worry yo'se'f, Laurelly," he said enthusiastically. Pros Passmore, uncle of the sick woman and mainstay of the forlorn little Consadine household, was always full of enthusiasm. "Just a few nails and a little wrappin' of twine'll make it all right," he informed his niece. "I stopped a-past and borried the nails and the hammer from Jeff Dawes; I mighty nigh pounded my thumb off knockin' in nails with a rock an' a sad-iron last week." "Looks like nobody ain't got no sense," returned Laurella Consadine ungratefully. "Even you, Unc' Pros--while you borryin' why cain't ye borry whole things that don't need mendin'?" Out of the shadows that hoarded the further end of the room came a woman with a little bundle in her arm which had evidently created the necessity for the borrowed cradle. "Laurelly," the nurse hesitated, "I wouldn't name it to ye whilst ye was a-sufferin,' but I jest cain't find the baby's clothes nowhars. I've done washed the little trick and wrapped her in my flannen petticoat. I do despise to put anything on 'em that anybody else has wore ... hit don't seem right. But I've been plumb through everything, an' cain't find none of her coats. Whar did you put 'em?"