Taking Tales Part 5

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 7.

The miller was a changed man in some points after his son had been transported. He seemed to be more morose than ever, but it was observed that he seldom said or did anything to hurt his neighbours, as once was the case. Sam Green, as he began to recover from his broken leg, was much the same man as before, sour and grumpy. He was able to move to his own cottage, but matters did not improve there. Only when Tiny Paul was with him was he seen to smile. He was never tired of watching the little chap, who would get hold of one of his sticks and call it his horse, and ride round and round the room on it. "Grandfather must give Tiny Paul a real horse, and then he will ride like a man," said the child.

"Tiny Paul shall have a ride the first day grandfather can find a pony,"

said Sam.

Not long after this Sam hobbled out with the aid of his sticks to a field near his cottage. At the other end of it was a large and deep pond. Sam sat himself down on a bank, and Tiny Paul played about near him. There were several horses and ponies feeding in the field.

"Grandfather, let Tiny Paul have his ride," said the child, pointing to an old, blind pony, grazing near. Just then a farmer's boy came by, with a halter in his hand, on his way to catch a horse for his master.

"Tom Smith, catch a pony for Tiny Paul to have a ride; do now!" cried the child.

Tom Smith was a good-natured lad, and was in no hurry; so he said, "Yes, I'll catch thee a pony, and thou shalt have a ride, little one, that thou shalt." The blind pony was very soon caught, and the halter put over his head. "There, Tiny Paul, jump up now, and thee shalt have a fine ride," said Tom Smith. Tiny Paul caught hold of the long mane, and Tom Smith helped him up by the leg, till he had a firm seat.

"Now let Tiny Paul go,--he ride alone," said the child. Tom Smith, thinking no harm could come to the little fellow, let go the halter.

"I say, Tom, keep near the pony's head; the child has no notion of guiding him," cried Sam.

"Oh yes, grandfather, Tiny Paul ride like huntsman in red coat," cried the child, kicking at the pony's sides, and making him trot by the old man.

"Now Tiny Paul make pony gallop," said the child, hitting the animal with its halter, and urging it on by his voice and heels. Off set the pony; Tiny Paul laughed, and waved his hand to his grandfather.

Tom Smith, instead of following the pony, stopped to speak to the old man.

For an instant Sam's eyes were off the child.

"Why where is the pony going?" exclaimed Sam, looking up.

The pony was making directly for the big pond.

"Stop him, Paul; stop him, tiny Paul. Pull at the halter, child,"

shrieked the old man. "Run after him, Tom; run for your life. Oh mercy! Oh mercy! he'll be into the water!"

Tom ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Tiny Paul, though he did not see his danger, pulled at the halter as he was bid; but the old pony's mouth was too tough to feel the rope in it, and on he went, pleased to have somebody on his back again. It made him think of the days when he had corn to eat, and hay without the trouble of picking it up.

Tom Smith ran, and ran, and shouted to the pony to stop; but his foot went into a drain, and down he came. He jumped up, though he had hurt his leg, and ran on. The pony was close to the pond, which was full of weeds. He was ten yards still behind.

"Stop! stop!" cried Tom.

"Oh stop, stop! mercy! mercy! mercy!" shrieked old Sam, who was hobbling on as fast as his sticks would let him move.

The pony reached the edge. In he plunged. Tiny Paul clung to his mane, but cried out with fear.

The blind pony waded on, for the water was not at first deep. Tom jumped in, but soon got his legs caught by the weeds; and then the pony began to swim. Tom could not swim, so he dared not follow.

"Stick on, Tiny Paul, stick on," he shouted.

But Tiny Paul was crying too much to hear him. Just then a stout weed caught the child's foot. Tiny Paul let go the mane. The pony swam on; the weed dragged Tiny Paul off, and the next moment Tom saw only one little hand clutching at the air above the water.

Sam Green was still some way off at that sad moment. He hobbled on till he reached the edge of the pond, where he found Tom, who crawled out, sighing and crying bitterly.

"Where's the child; where is Tiny Paul?" shrieked out the old man.

Tom said nothing, but pointed to the middle of the pond.

Sam did not seem to know what Tom meant, but looked to the other side, where the pony was standing shaking his s.h.a.ggy sides.

"Where is Tiny Paul? where is Tiny Paul?" again asked the old man.

"Down in there," said Tom, pointing to the middle of the pond.

Sam Green fell back as if shot. Tom thought that he was dead, and jumping up, ran off to call for help. He told everybody he met till he reached his master's house.

People made out that some one was drowned; but whether it was Sam Green or Tiny Paul, they could not tell.

Among those Tom met was Farmer Grey. He at once rode to the pond, where he found poor Sam lying where he had fallen. Sam was carried back to his own cottage by order of the farmer, who sent at once for a doctor.

The doctor came and said he would recover if treated with care.

"Then I will stay by him till I can find some one to take my place,"

said Farmer Grey.

Meantime the pond was dragged, and Tiny Paul's body was found: not Tiny Paul though; he had gone far away, to the bosom of One who loves little children, and because of that love often takes them to Himself.

Tiny Paul's body was taken to the cottage of his father and mother.

John Dixon could not speak for sorrow; and Mrs Dixon, bursting into tears, threw herself on the body, and would not be comforted.

Some hours pa.s.sed, and Sam Green awoke, as if out of a deep sleep. The first words he spoke were about Tiny Paul.

"Tiny Paul is in the hands of One gentle and kind, who will care for him far more than you or his father and mother can," said the farmer. "Do not grieve for Tiny Paul."

"What's that you say, Master Grey?" asked Sam quickly.

"That Tiny Paul is better off now than he might have been had you or his father or mother brought him up," said the farmer. "What is the eldest boy doing?"

"No good--no good, I fear. He is in prison," growled Sam in his old tone.

"And the second?" said the farmer.

"An idle dog. He's a great trouble to my poor daughter."

"And if I were to ask you, ten or a dozen years hence, what your youngest grandchild was about, might you not have had to say the same of him?"

"That's true," said Sam, looking up. "I might--yes, I might."

"Now G.o.d often takes to Himself those He loves; He loved Tiny Paul, so He took him."

"Yes; I see G.o.d can take better care of him than I can."