Produced by Marlo Dianne
by
Robert J. C. Stead
Author of "Kitchener and Other Poems," "Songs of the Prairie," "The
Cow Puncher," ETC
The Musson Book Company Limited
Publishers Toronto
Six little slates clattered into place, and six little figures stooderect between their benches.
"Right! Turn!" said the master. "March! School is dismissed"; and sixpairs of bare little legs twinkled along the aisle, across thewell-worn threshold, down the big stone step, and into the dustyroad, warm with the rays of the Indian summer sun.
The master watched them from the open window until they vanishedbehind a ridge of beech trees that cut his vision from theconcession. While they remained within sight a smile played upon thefeatures of his strong, sun-burned face, but as the last littlecalico dress was swallowed by the wood the smile died down, and for amoment he stood, a grave and thoughtful statue framed within thewhite pine casings of the sash. His sober grey eyes stared unseeinginto the forest, while the light wind that stirred the golden mapleleaves toyed gently with his unruly locks.
His brown study lasted only a moment. With a quick movement he walkedto the blackboard, caught up a section of sheepskin, and beganerasing the symbols of the day's instructions.
"Well, I suppose there's reward in heaven," he said to himself, as heset the little schoolroom in order. "There isn't much here. Thefarmers will pay a man more to doctor their sick sheep than to teachtheir children. But, of course, they get both mutton and wool from asheep. I won't stand it longer than the spring. If others can takethe chance I can take it too. If it were not for her I would goto-morrow."
The last remark seemed to unlink a new chain of thought. The greyeyes lit up again. He wielded the broom briskly for a minute, thentossed it in a corner, fastened the windows, slipped a little folderinto his pocket, locked the door behind him, carefully placed the keyunder the stone step where the first child in the morning would findit, and swung in a rapid stride down a by-path leading from thelittle schoolhouse into the forest.
Ten minutes' quick walking in the woods, now glorious in all theirautumn splendour, brought him to a point where the sky stood up, paleblue, evasive, through the trees. The next moment he was at thewater's edge, and a limpid lake stretched away to where the forestsof the farther shore mingled hazily with sky and water. The pointwhere he stood was a little bay, ringed with water-worn stones andhemmed ar