“With your means of moral instruction, perhaps it is not surprising that you should not; so I will drop the subject, and ask you if you heard any thing of Harry, while you were gone.” “No, mistress; didn't see nobody that knew he was gone.” “O, when will he return? He has now been gone two long, long days; but I must not repine.” “Why, mistress, I kinder guess he'll be along to-night, unless so be he's met with considerable bother to get the money, or somethin. He must be here afore to-morrow afternoon, when the sale is, you know.” “Yes, I knew the sale was delayed till town meeting day, which is to-morrow, I believe; though for what reason they put it off I never heard. Harry felt so bitter about the affair, that I thought I would not disturb his feelings by making any allusions to the subject. But there appeared to be something about it that I didn't understand. Why didn't the sale take place last week, as first appointed?” “For as good a reason as ever a tory officer had for doing any thing--or not doing any thing, may be, I should say--in the world,” replied Bart with a knowing look. “What was it?” “Why, when the day come, he couldn't find any cattle to sell.” “What had become of them?” “Well, mistress, I don't know how much it is best to say about that, considering. But I shouldn't be surprised,” continued the speaker, while a sly, roguish expression stole over his usually grave, impenetrable countenance, “that is, not much surprised, if it turned out that two or three of Harry's friends got the cattle out of the barn where they were keeping, one dark night, and driv 'em off into the woods, near the top of Governor's Mountain, and then backed up hay enough to keep 'em a spell; while the company took turns, for a few days, in going a hunting over the mountain, so as to come round, once in a while, to fodder and see to the creters, for which old Bug-Horn paid in milk, on the spot. Now, mind, I haven't said I _knew_ this was so, but was only kinder guessing at it; for all that's really known about it--that is, out loud--is, that Fitch and his men found the cattle up there; and the way they found them was by following up the trail made by the hay straws that some one, after a while, grew careless enough to scatter from his back-load along the path.” “Did my son have any hand in this affair?” asked the widow, anxiously. “No, mistress; Harry is so kinder notional about some things, that we thought--that is, I guess some thought--it wasn't best to say any thing to him about the plan till his cattle were fairly saved.” “I am glad to hear it. I should rather see him deprived of his last penny than do a questionable act. We should never do wrong because others have done wrong to us.”