"You've soaked us fer years with yer
stuff, an' you've got soaked now. Good-bye."
With that they continued on their way, leaving the victim to scramble out
of the pond and make his way home, beaten and crestfallen.
Along the road the drivers marched, then up the hill leading to Big Sam's
abode. It was dim twilight as they stood before the house. The evening was
balmy, and the front door stood partly open. For a minute they hesitated,
and a whispered conversation ensued.
"You go in, Jake. You've got a tongue fer sich things," suggested his
companions.
But before a reply could be made there floated out upon the air a sweet
voice singing an old familiar hymn. Instinctively every driver pulled off
his rough hat, and bowed his shaggy head. It was a woman's voice they
heard, low and tender. There was a pleading note in the singer's voice--
the cry of a soul for help in trouble.
Little did Nellie realize as she sat by Dan's side this evening, and sang,
that she had such attentive listeners. The past two days had been a time
of much anxiety. When first she and her father had arrived, Dan did not
know them.
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