It was during the summer, I repeat, in which Nick Ribsam reached the age
of twelve years, that so many forest fires raged, and it was in the
autumn of the same year that he saw the famous dark day, so similar to
that of September, 1881; in fact, it could not have resembled it more
closely, for I may as well state it was that very day to which I refer.
"Nick," said his father, on that September morning, addressing his boy
in Dutch, "I promised to pay James Bradley one hundred dollars to-day
before three o'clock."
"Yes, sir," responded the boy, who knew that the debt would be paid on
time.
"He was to come here to our house to get it, but he sent me word last
night that he would be much obliged if I would send it to him at
Martin's store in Dunbarton, as he is obliged to be there all day. I
like to accommodate any one, and I will therefore send you to take it to
him."
"Yes, sir; I am ready to go whenever you want me to do so."
Dunbarton, as has been stated, was a village nine miles away, and the
principal grocery store in the place was kept by Jacob Martin. It was
there that Nick was to take the one hundred dollars which was to be
handed to James Bradley, to whom his father owed it.
It was like a holiday for Nick to take such a drive, and he was glad
when his father made known his wishes.
"Harness up the mare to the fall-top and drive over; you ought to be
back early in the afternoon."
"I will, if nothing happens to prevent.
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