"We do well to be thankful, but I think humility
becomes us too. While we doubted the sun and the rain have been with
us for a sign that, though men grow faint-hearted and spare their toil,
seed-time and harvest shall not fail."
It was the first time Colonel Barrington had spoken in quite that
strain, and when he paused a moment there was a curious stillness, for
those who heard him noticed an unusual tremor in his voice. There was
also a gravity that was not far removed from sadness in his face when
he went on again, but the intentness of his retainers would have been
greater had they known that two separate detachments of police troopers
were then riding toward Silverdale.
"The year has brought its changes, and set its mark deeply on some of
us," he said. "We cannot recall it, or retrieve our blunders, but we
can hope they will be forgiven us and endeavor to avoid them again.
This is not the fashion in which I had meant to speak to you tonight,
but after the bounty showered upon us I feel my responsibility. The
law is unchangeable. The man who would have bread to eat or sell must
toil for it, and I, in disregard of it, bade you hold your hand. Well,
we have had our lesson, and we will be wiser another time, but I have
felt that my usefulness as your leader is slipping away from me. This
year has shown me that I am getting an old man."
Dane kicked the foot of a lad beside him, and glanced at the piano as
he stood up.
"Sir," he said simply, "although we have differed about trifles and may
do so again, we don't want a better one--and if we did we couldn't find
him.
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