A tall figure had crossed the bridge and was nearing the group. There was a perceptible stir, and all conversation ceased. "'Ere's the minister," said Silas Long. "We'd better get started." "Mr. Scott's been tryin' all day to get a light job for that McIntyre," said Jake Sawyer innocently, "but he don't seem to've got anything easy enough yet." Uncle Hughie darted a warning glance at the indiscreet miller, but it was too late. "He'll be well looked after, then, I'm thinkin'," said Sandy, promptly rising. "There'll be no need o' me goin' with ye the night, Hughie. Maister Scott'll likely give him a job in"--he paused to let the heavy weight of his sarcasm fall resoundingly--"in Muskoky!" He tramped away, and, climbing the fence, strode across the fields in the direction of his mill. "Ain't 'e a caution, now?" asked Silas Long in a tone of fear. "You mark my words, now--jist mark my words--that man's goin' to meet a judgment some day. It ain't safe to act like that to the minister, that's wot it ain't." "Fine night," the assembly remarked unanimously. Mr. Scott was a good-looking man of middle age, tall and straight, with a massive head, covered with thick iron-gray hair. He had deep blue eyes, with little lines at their corners showing they were prone to kindly laughter. "What's the question to-night?" he asked, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Have you found a new star, Silas?" "Eh, eh, mebby, mebby," answered Uncle Hughie. "If it is, it seems to be a fallen one, whatever. We would jist be talkin' about yon poor body we're goin' to see. Come away, now." The milkstand arose leisurely. Silas Long shouldered his telescope, Jake Sawyer slung his orphan over his back, and the group turned up Cameron's lane, crossed the orchard, and went down the winding pathway into the ravine. The little stream danced along at their side, touched here and there with the gold of the sunset, the vesper sparrows had gathered for their twilight chorus, and the valley was vibrating with music.