Down went the tall, broad figure, down into the dust of the grain-room
floor. And there Pap Overholt grovelled on his knees, his white head almost
at the thief's feet, crying, crying that old cry of David's: "Oh, Sammy, my
son! My son, Sammy! An' I wouldn't 'a' touched a hair o' his head. My God!
have mercy on my soul, that would 'a' fed him my heart's blood--an' he
wouldn't take bite nor sup from my hand. Oh, Sammy! what did you want to do
this to yo' po' old pappy fer?"

Elder Justice, quick and efficient at eighty years, had sprung to the lad's
right arm, two of the younger men close after. Aunt Cornelia held her piece
of blazing light-wood for them while they cut away the sleeve and made
ready to bear apart the powerful jaws of the trap. The little Huldy had
said never a word. Her small, white face was strained; but it did not bear
the marks of shock and of horror that were written on every other
countenance there. When they had grasped jaws and lever, and Elder
Justice's kind voice murmured, "Mind now, Sammy. Hold firm, son; we air
a-gwine to pull 'em back. Brace yo'se'f," the boy's haggard eyes sought his
mother's face.

"Le' me take it, Aunt Cornely," whispered Huldy, loosing the light-wood
from the elder woman's hand and leaving her free. And the next moment
Sammy's left hand was clasped tight in his mother's; he turned his face
round to her broad breast and hid it there; and there he sobbed and shook
as the savage jaws came slowly back.

* * * * *

That strange hour worked a complete revolution in the lives of the little
family in the cabin on The Bench and those in the big, hospitable Pap
Overholt home. Sammy had "met up with" punishment at last; he had