Taking Tales Part 2

Farmer Grey undid his neckcloth, and got some water and bathed his face; but it was some time before the miller came to himself. When he did, the first words he said, when he opened his eyes, were, "Well; I did not think, Farmer Grey, that you would have done this for me."

"Why not, neighbour Page?" asked the farmer, with a smile. "I saw a fellow-man in danger, and of course I ran to help him. I am very glad that G.o.d has let me save your life. Give G.o.d the praise. Raise your voice to Him for that and all His other mercies."

"Yes, farmer, I will try," said Mark Page; "I have been a bad man all my life, and I don't like to think where I should have been by this time if you had not come to save me."

"It is the way to amend; the first step I may say, to find out and own that we are bad; so, neighbour, I am truly glad to hear you own that you are bad," said Farmer Grey. "But I must not let you talk now. Come, we must help your man there. He seems to be badly hurt."

"He wouldn't hold on to the last, as I told him," said Mark.

"Well, Sam; what harm has come to you?"

"Broken a leg, to my belief;" growled out Sam.

Farmer Grey found that Sam had indeed, as he said, broken a leg. Mark was now able to get up and walk, and he went to the house to call his son. Ben had been out till late, and had come home wet, and did not like to be called up.

"Sam Green has broken his leg. Come down quickly I say," cried out Mark.

"Let him sit still and mend it, while I put on my clothes," said Ben from the window.

Farmer Grey heard him. "That young man will, I fear, not come to a good end," he thought. "When I hear a man laugh at the pain or grief of others, I am sure that his heart is not right towards G.o.d or towards his fellow-man."

Ben at last came out and got a hurdle, and he and his father, with Farmer Grey, put Sam Green on it, and bore him to the house. Sam cried out that they were killing him; so when Farmer Grey heard this he put his hand under Sam's leg, and spoke to him just as kind and soft as if he had been a little child. Sam did not say anything, but he ceased to growl, or to cry out that he was hurt. Mary had heard her father call out, and she was at the door when they got there. Farmer Grey had not before this spoken to her. He now watched her as she went about the house, making ready the bed in the spare room for poor Sam, and heard her speak so gently and so kind to him.

"That is a good girl," he thought. "Can she be the miller's daughter?

If so, she seems very unlike Mark and his son. I must see more of her."

As soon as Sam was placed on the bed, Ben was sent off to fetch the surgeon to set his leg.

"Tell him that I beg he will make haste, for the poor man is in great pain," said Farmer Grey, as Ben got on his horse.

"I will just break my fast with you, miller, that I may help poor Sam,"

said Farmer Grey. "We must get his trousers cut open, and his boots off; and it may be we shall have to cut them off also. It does not do to pull at a broken leg."

Sam did not at all like to have his trousers cut open or his boot cut off: "Hold, hold!" he cried out. "Why I gave twelve and sixpence for those boots only the week before last, and I will not have them spoilt."

"Which is best, friend Sam, to lose your leg or perhaps your life, or to lose a boot, for it is not a pair? What is a boot compared to a man's leg? A boot will wear out in a few months; his leg is to last him for his life. And let me ask you, what is a man's sin, his favourite sin, which he can retain at best but for his life, compared to his soul, which will last for ever? No man can get rid of his soul. He cannot put it out as he can a light. Do what he can, it will last for ever."

"O sir, don't go and talk in that way," cried out Sam; "I don't like it--I can't bear it."

"Well, well, friend, I will not talk more to you now on the matter,"

said Farmer Grey. "Some day you may like to hear more."

"May be, may be--oh! oh! oh!" Sam Green groaned with pain.

At last the surgeon came, and set Sam's leg. He shook hands with Farmer Grey. "I wish that we had more like you," he said to the farmer. "I knew when it was you sent for me, that some one was really hurt. The man will get well, I hope, and his leg will be of good use to him if he keeps quiet and does not fret." The surgeon said he would call again in the evening, and went away.

"Now, Sam, we will let your wife and family know, that they may come and see you," said Farmer Grey.

"Much obliged, sir; but I have no wife, and no family, except one daughter; and she is married, and lives with her husband, and has her children to look after, and does not care for me," said Sam.

"We won't think that of her," said the farmer. "I will let her know what has happened to you. May be, you would like to have one of her children with you."

Sam looked pleased for the first time, and said, "Well, sir, there is a little chap--my grandchild--I should like to have him now and then with me. They call him Paul, Tiny Paul. He is a merry little fellow, and he'd keep me from getting low."

"Well, we'll try and send Tiny Paul to you," said the farmer. "What is your daughter's name?"

"Susan Dixon, sir," answered Sam. "Dixon is her husband's name. He is a decent, hard-working man, and she's a good wife; but I never cared much for any of them, except Tiny Paul. You'll send Tiny Paul to me then, sir?"

"Yes, Sam, yes; I have promised that I will," said Farmer Grey, thinking to himself, "I may win over Sam Green yet. He has a soft part in his heart, and I have found it."

Farmer Grey had a good deal of talk with Mary before he went home. He liked all she said, and all he saw her do. "That is a good young woman, I am sure," he said to himself. She, too, was very grateful to him for having saved her father's life by his courage and presence of mind.

Then, too, he was the uncle of James Grey, and she was glad that he seemed pleased with her.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 4.

It would have seemed that James Grey and Mary Page had now every chance of being made happy. So they might, if James had not got into evil ways. He had not spoken of Mary to his uncle, and he did not know that Farmer Grey had seen her, and was much pleased with her. By this his folly was shown. Had he been frank with his uncle, and told him all the truth, how much better it would have been for him!

A few days after the accident at the mill, James came, as usual, to see Mary. He had a long talk with her, and said that he was so glad his uncle now knew her, and that he was sure the farmer would let him marry her. Still he did not say that he had told his uncle he wished to do so. When he at last got up to go away, Ben followed him.

"James," said Ben, "I have some work for tonight. You must come. You will never have seen such sport in your life. There are six other chaps will join us, all true as steel."

"No, no, Ben; I must go home," said James. "My uncle does not like me to be out late at night, and he has heard of one or two of the things I have done with you."

"That is good," said Ben, with a sneer. "Why, I would not let my father order me about as he likes; much less an uncle, I should think. Dear me, 'my uncle won't let me do this,' 'my uncle won't let me do that'; a nice state of things. Come, James, be a man, and come along with me."

James never could stand Ben's sneers; so the next time Ben said, "Come along," he answered, "Very well; but only for this time."

"Oh, of course, I know," said Ben. "I don't want you to get into any sc.r.a.pe, of course, lad. Come back into my room. Those clothes won't suit you: you must put on some of mine. We can slip out again, and my sister won't see you."

In a short time, Ben and James stole out with their guns and shot-belts and powder-flasks.

"It is not near home," whispered Ben.

"That's a good thing," answered James; but they spoke very little.

They had walked two miles when they fell in with three men, who seemed to know Ben well; and soon after that they met three more. All went on together. James found that they were going into the park of a gentleman who very strictly preserved his game and had several gamekeepers.

"Even if they meet us, they won't dare to attack us; and if they do, we can take very good care of ourselves," said Ben.

The party of poachers were in search of pheasants, of which there were a great many in the park. They knocked over one after the other, till each man was well loaded. James soon began to take a pleasure in the sport, and killed as many as the rest.

They had begun to talk of going home, all well pleased with their night's work, when, as they were within fifty yards of the place where they were to leave the park, they found themselves face to face with four keepers.

"Stand back, and let us pa.s.s!" cried Ben Page. "We don't want to say anything to you, and you shall not say anything to us."

"That won't do, young man," said the princ.i.p.al keeper; "you must give up all the game you have shot, and let us know your names."