Raymond S. Spears

“ It was a brave man who would go to that old mill and stand in the gloom, looking into the dusty recesses, curtained by the wavering cobwebs swung down from beams and frames.
Youths made passing the old mill the test of their courage. They reported green eyes in the dark of the mill. Every one knew that it was Old Pete the Miller's cat, but none knew whether the cat was alive or dead.
The cat had been Old Pete's wild companion—a lank, black hunter that never grew fat. The very rats in the mill were lean from dodging the angry miller and his no less angry cat. ”

“ In the depths of their hearts many a man wished that he could stumble upon that gold. Not one had his wish.
The man who found the gold had never heard of it, nor dreamed of having gold, and it fastened itself to him like the Old Man of the Sea.
His name was Doland Colb—a harmless man who spent most of his time playing the fiddle. He would rather feed his soul with music, thanked his stomach with food, or clothe his body with wool. ”

“ His breath began to come in short gasps, thinking of what was unplayed—what no man had ever yet played. He listened, and amid the uproar of the storm, while the loose planks rattled and the wind drew screaming through the whistling places, he caught the rhythm of the old mill, and he knew that after a time he would play it on the fiddle and make it into music that would cheer him on his way. ”