THE LUCKY PIECE

A TALE OF THE NORTH WOODS

BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE

AUTHOR OF "THE VAN DWELLERS," "THE BREAD LINE," "THE GREAT WHITE WAY," ETC.

FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR

NEW YORK
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
1906

Copyright, 1906, by
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY

Copyright, 1905, by
THE BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY

This Edition Published March, 1906

He climbed down carefully and secured his treasure.

CONTENTS

THE LUCKY PIECE

PROLOGUE

There is a sharp turn just above the hill. The North Elba stage sometimes hesitates there before taking the plunge into the valley below.

But this was late September. The morning was brisk, the mountains glorified, the tourists were going home. The four clattering, snorting horses swung into the turn and made straight for the brow—the stout, ruddy-faced driver holding hard on the lines, but making no further effort to check them. Then the boy in the front seat gave his usual "Hey! look there!" and, the other passengers obeying, as they always did, saw something not especially related to Algonquin, or Tahawus, or Whiteface—the great mountains whose slopes were ablaze with autumn, their peaks already tipped with snow—that was not, indeed, altogether Adirondack scenery. Where the bend came, at the brink, a little weather-beaten cottage cornered—a place with apple trees and some faded summer flowers. In the road in front was a broad flat stone, and upon it a single figure—a little girl of not more than eight—her arm extended toward the approaching stage, in her hand a saucer of berries.

The tourists had passed a number of children already, but this one was different. The others had been mostly in flocks—soiled, stringy-haired little mountaineers, who had gathered to see the stage go by. The smooth, oval face of this child, rich under the tan, was clean, the dark hair closely brushed—her dress a simple garment, though of a fashion unfavored by the people of the hills. All this could be comprehended in the brief glance allowed the passengers; also the deep wistful look which followed them as the stage whirled by without stopping.

A lady in the back seat (she had been in Italy) murmured something about a "child Madonna." Another said, "Poor little thing!"

But the boy in the front seat had caught the driver's arm and was demanding that he stop the stage.

"I want to get out!" he repeated, with determination. "I want to buy those berries! Stop!"

The driver could not stop just there, even had he wished to do so, which he did not. They were already a third of the way down, and the hill was a serious matter. So the boy leaned out, looking back, to make sure the moment's vision had not faded, and when the stage struck level ground, was out and running, long before the horses had been brought to a stand-still.

"You wait for me!" he commanded. "I'll be back in a second!" Then he pushed rapidly up the long hill, feeling in his pockets as he ran.