The tramp recognizes the priest at once,
and the sight of that familiar face brings back the old, happy days of
his innocent boyhood. The priest commences to speak; he pleads, he
reasons with the boss of the stone-crusher. In spirit the tramp is once
more back in the college chapel listening to the saintly old man who had
been his guide and confidant in youth, and who had long since passed to
his reward. The vague, discontented longing for better things rises up
in full strength. After all, why not? The look on the priest's face as
he turns away decides him. That look of bitter disappointment, of real
grief, on the face of his old college friend is more than the tramp can
stand. He speaks, the priest turns to him, and--well, the rest of the
story you know for yourself, Father. That is, the rest as far as any
mortal can relate it. The end is not yet, but I trust that end will be
one which will satisfy even you.'"
Silence reigned for several moments, the fragrant silence of a warm May
night. And then:
"I am sure it will, I am sure it will," mused Father Anthony, smiling
confidently. "I have no fear as to what the end will be for Jim, my
one-armed tramp."
"But the other man, Father, the boss of the stone-crusher? What has
become of him?"
"Oh! that little game of hide and seek is still going on, but I have not
lost hope even yet.
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