218
MY TOURMALINE.
"Oh, the good Doctor! He 's written to tell us about the tourmalines!"
As he read the letter his face lengthened. I did not interrupt him with any question, but I said to myself:—
"The tourmalines are lost, and Ally knew it this morning. I wish we 'd never heard of the things, anyhow. They 're bewitched."
Presently he threw the letter to me, saying, "Read that, Will. I don't care about the confounded stones, but I 'd rather run a gauntlet of wild Indians than tell Ally. Hang the thing! I wish we 'd never seen Black Ledge."
Dr. Miller's letter was highly characteristic:—
"Dear Boys: I may as well out with it. Your—my—Ally's—all the tourmalines are lost. I don't know but the Dominie was right, after all. Maybe they are used for gates in heaven, and angelic architects lay violent hands on them whenever they find them. The worst of it is, that I can't swear that it is n't my fault. The beastly stage driver that we rode with day before yesterday upset his stage just before dark, and nearly broke all our necks. There was a woman with a little boy in it, and the child's leg was broken, and I was up all night with them and I 'll be hanged if I ever thought once of the package of tourmalines till late the next day. I had it in my inside pocket, and felt of it about once in an hour or so up to that time. I spent most of
