Tessibel's questioning gaze prompted Helen to proceed.
"The paper says, too, the men up there in Auburn are pretty sure he's somewhere among his own people."
A scarlet wave dyed Tessibel's face, and then receded. Her eyes drew down a little at the corners.
"Ye mean 'mong the squatters, don't ye?" she queried sharply. "Squatters air jest as good as any one else, Miss Young."
"Well, now, dear, I didn't mean they weren't," Helen laughed pleasantly; "and I'm sure if they're all like you, Tessibel, they're very nice indeed."
The memory of Teola Graves, the small, sickly baby, and the sudden death of Minister Graves passed through Tessibel's mind. The promise to her of the deed to the land on which their shanty stood was also in that procession of ghosts belonging to the past.
"Daddy and me was goin' to own our hut ground," she confided thoughtfully, "but--but--the dominie died afore we got it--so we air squatters yet jest the same as the rest. Squatters be awful nice folks!
Most of 'em air better'n me."
"Well, anyway," took up Helen, wishing to keep off dangerous ground, "the paper says the warden's going to start from the head of Cayuga Lake and search every house and cabin until he--"
Tessibel rose to her feet unsteadily. In her vivid imagination she saw the strong arm of the law reach out from Auburn Prison and drag from her care and protection the wee, twisted little man chanting over the verses and prayers she'd taught him.
"I ain't a goin' to read today,--I got to go now," she gulped. "Good bye, Miss Young."
Daddy Skinner unbarred the door when he heard Tessibel call his name. At the sight of his young daughter's agitated face, the fisherman slid into his chair, beckoning her to a place on his knee.
"What air doin', Tess?" he questioned swiftly. "Ye're as white as bleached starch."
Tess placed her finger on her lips, glancing in the direction of the garret. Getting up, she barred the door and crept back to her father's side.
"Burnett air a scootin' down here after Andy," she murmured, too low for the dwarf to hear. "Miss Young says it air in the paper. I got to tell the poor little feller now so he won't die o' fright when the warden comes."
She went to the ladder and looked up through the hole. Then she set one foot on the lower rung and began to sing softly,
"Rescue the Perishin'; Care for the Dyin'."
And on and on she sang, in throbbing melody, to the end of the hymn.
Tess had long ago discovered the fear-dissipating qualities of "Rescue the Perishin'." A long happy sigh in the attic told her the dwarf had enjoyed her song.
"Andy," she called in a low tone, "come down an' set beside the cot. I has to talk to ye."
Andy needed no second invitation. His legs were stiff but his heart full of good cheer, as he scrambled down the ladder with the Bible in his hand. Crawling across the floor, he propped his bent little body against the cot, and looked inquiringly at Daddy Skinner, and Daddy Skinner stared moodily back at him.
"Andy," Tess began, squatting beside him. "Ye remember how slick Daddy Skinner hopped out o' jail an' right back to me?"
Andy bobbed his head.
"Yep, I remember, brat," he responded. "I were glad fer him, but I sure were sorry fer myself when he left Auburn."
"An' I were that happy I nearly died," replied Tess, musingly. "Well, I air goin' to show ye a verse in the Bible what hauled 'im smack out o'
prison." Tess took up the holy book and opened it. "There! now read it.... Right where my finger air! See?"
For several seconds Andy studied the words under Tessibel's pointing finger, and Daddy Skinner evinced his interest by bending nearer in a questioning attitude.
"If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed," Andy spelled haltingly, and then glanced up, mystified. "Why, it air talkin' about movin'
mountains.... Ain't it, Tess?"
"Sure!" agreed Tess, displaying her white teeth in smiling affirmation.
"See?"
Andy shook his head.
"No, I don't see, brat," he replied. "I ain't wantin' to move no mountains, I ain't."
Tess flung back her curls impatiently.
"Oh, Andy, yer head air all bone. Now look at me."
Misty, eager eyes were raised to the girl's.
"Can't ye see, Andy dear," she proceeded solemnly, "it air harder to get a mountain out of yer way than 'tis to stay out of prison."
"Mebbe 'tis," conceded Andy, brightening. "I never thought of it like that."
"But ye must begin thinkin' quick," ordered Tess. "Now every minute of the day ye air to say over an' over verses I show ye. And the man who helps folks move mountains'll keep ye right in this shack.... I air thinkin' that'd suit ye some, huh?"
Andy looked at her meltingly.
"I'd ruther be here than any place in the hull world," he murmured in reverent humility.
"Then," avowed Tess, "I air a goin'--Oh, Andy, I got to tell ye somethin', honey, an' I--"
"What?" gasped Andy, faintly.
Tess paused an instant.
"Burnett's pell-mellin' down from Auburn after ye," she blurted. "I just heard it at Young's."
Andy's face blanched to the hue of death. He had been so satisfied--so secure in the little garret under the protection of his friends, and now he would have to go back after all.
"Burnett?" he repeated almost inaudibly. "Burnett's comin' after me?"
Tess reached out and touched him.
"But he ain't knowing ye air here," she asserted hastily. "An' he ain't a goin' to know it uther. An' I tell ye, Andy, if ye'll learn yerself that verse 'bout the mustard seed, it'll keep ye here."
"I'll learn it, brat," promised Andy, but he seemed as if turned to stone.
"But what be we goin' to do, kid?" asked Skinner, a look of helplessness wrinkling his face.
"I dunno," replied Tess, with her hand still on the dwarf's arm.