Archie B. told him the story with all the quaint histrionic talent of his exuberant nature.

The Bishop sat and laughed till the tears came.

"An' Bonaparte went down the road with the monkey holt his tail--the champion dorg--an' you won all that?"

"All fur charity, Bishop, except, you know, part fur keeps as a kinder nes' egg."

"Of co-u-r-se--Archie B., of--course, no harm in the worl'--if--if--my son--_if you carry out your original ideas_, or promise, ruther; it won't work if you go back on yo' promise to G.o.d.

'G.o.d moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform,'" added the Bishop solemnly.

Archie B. slipped fifty of his dollars into the old man's hands.

"Do you know, Archie B., I prayed for this las' night? Now you tell me G.o.d don't answer prayers?"

He was silent, touched. Seldom before had a prayer of his been answered so directly.

"Fur charity, Archie B., fur charity. I'll take it, an' little you know what this may mean."

Archie B. was silent. So far so good, but it was plain from his still thoughtful looks that he had only half won out yet. He had heard the old man speak, and there had been a huskiness about his voice.

"Now there is paw, Bishop--you know he ain't jes like you--he don't see so far. He might not understan' it. Would you mind jes' droppin'

him a line, you know? I'll take it to him--in case he looks at the thing differently, you know, fur whut you write will go a long way with him."

The old man smiled: "Of course, Archie B.--he must understan' it. Of course, it 'ud never do to have him spile as good a thing as that--an' fur charity, all fur the Lord--"

"An' why I didn't go to school, helpin' you all in the woods," put in Archie B.

"Of course, Archie B., why of course, my son; I'll fix it right."

And he scribbled a few lines on the fly leaf of his note book for Archie B. to take home:

"G.o.d bless you, my son, good-night."

Archie B. struck out across the fields jingling his remaining gold and whistling. At home it was as he expected. Patsy met him at the gate. One look into her expectant face showed him that she was delighted at the prospect of his punishment. It was her hope deferred, now long unfulfilled. He had always gotten out before, but now--

"Walk in, Mister Gambler, Mr. Hookey--walk in--paw is waitin' fur you," she said, smirking.

The Deacon stood in the door, silent, grim, determined. In his hand were well-seasoned hickories. By him stood his wife more silent, more grim, more determined.

"Pull off yo' coat, Archie B.," said the Deacon, "I'm gwinter lick you fur gamblin'."

"Pull off yo' coat, Archie B.," said his mother, "I'm goin' to lick you fur playin' hookey."

"Pull it off, Archie B.," said his sister bossily, "I'm goin' to stan' by an' see."

Archie B. pulled off his coat deliberately.

"That's all right," he said, "Many a man has been licked befo' fur bein' on the Lord's side."

"You mean to tell me, Archie B. b.u.t.ts, you bet on a dorg fight sho'

nuff," said his father, nervously handling his hickories.

"An' played hookey?" chimed in his mother.

"Tell it, Archie B., tell the truth an' shame the devil," mocked Patsy.

"Yes, I done all that--fur charity," he said boldly, and with a victorious ring in his voice.

"Did you put up that ten dollars yo' Granny lef' you?" screamed his mother.

"Did you dare, Archie B.," said Patsy.

His father paled at the thought of it: "An' lost it, Archie B., lost it, my son. Oh, I mus' teach you how sinful it is to gamble."

Archie B. replied by running his hand deep down into his pocket and bringing up a handful of gold--five eagles!

His father dropped the switches and stared. His mother sat down suddenly in a chair and Patsy reached out, took it and counted it deliberately:--

"One--two--three--fo'--five--an' all gold--my gracious, Maw!"

"That's jes' ha'f of it," said Archie B. indifferently. "I gave the old Bishop five of 'em--fur--charity. Here's his note."

The Deacon read it and rubbed his chin thoughtfully: "That's a different thing," he said after a while. "Entirely different proposition, my son."

"Yes, it 'pears to be," said his mother counting the gold again.

"We'll jes' keep three of 'em, Archie B. They'll come in handy this winter."

"Put on yo' coat, my son," said the Deacon gently.

"Patsy, fetch him in the hot waffles an' syrup--the lad 'pears to be a leetle tired," said his mother.

"How many whippings did you git, Archie B.?" whispered his brother as Archie B., after entertaining the family for an hour, all about the great fight, crawled into bed: "I got three," went on Ozzie B.

"Triggers fust, then paw, then maw."

"None," said Archie B., as he put his two pieces of gold under his pillow.

"I can't see why that was," wailed Ozzie B. "I done nothin'

an'--an'--got all--all--the--lickin'!"

"You jes' reaped my whirlwind," sneered his brother--"All fools do!"

But later he felt so sorry for poor Ozzie B. because he could not lie on his back at all, that he gave him one of his beautiful coins to go to sleep.

CHAPTER XXVI

BEN BUTLER'S LAST RACE