Then Eli's thoughts turned to his old father and mother.

"The silver's gone, and it leaves Pop and Mother in a bad way," he
mused. "They've been fondlin' that skin half the winter. Pop's had un
out a hundred times to see how fine and black 'twere, and shook un out
to see how thick and deep the fur is. And they been countin' and
countin' on the things they'd be gettin' and needs, and can't get now
she's gone. And they been countin' on the money they'd have to lay by
for their feeble days when they needs un. They'll never get over
mournin' the loss of un. 'Twere worth a fortune, and Pop'll never
cotch another. He were hopin' and hopin' every year as long as I
remembers to cotch a silver, and none ever comes to his traps till
this un comes. And now she's gone!"

Perhaps had the silver fox skin been Eli's own, and perhaps had his
father and mother not built so many hopes and laid so many plans upon
the little fortune it was to have brought them, Eli would never have
ventured to the verge of murder to recover it. Even now, with all his
regrets, he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that he had not
killed Indian Jake and stained his hands with blood.

"'Twere the mercy of God sent the bullet abroad," said he reverently.
"Indian Jake's a thief and he deserves to be killed, but if I'd killed
he I'd never rested an easy hour again while I lives. But I might o'
clipped his trigger hand, whatever," he thought with regret. "I can
clip off the head of a pa'tridge every time, and I might have clipped
his hand, and got the skin and took he back for Doctor Joe to fix up."

Three days later Eli pulled his boat wearily into The Jug. The boys