uedale and
glared as if about to put the blame of impeded traffic up to him. "Roads
over which folk can travel to one another. See here, you're looking for
some excuse to get rid of your damned money. Why don't you build roads?"

"Roads?" Truedale did not know whether to laugh or take his man
seriously.

"Yes, roads. I'm going down to Jim. I haven't much money; I've made a
good deal, but somehow I never seem able to be caught with the goods on
me. But what little I've got now goes to Jim for the purpose of forging
a connecting link between him and the Centre. But here's a job for you.
You can grasp this need. I've got a boy in the hospital; he caved in
from over-study. Trying to get an education while starving himself to
death and doing without underclothes. You ought to know how to hew a
short cut to him, Truedale; you did some hacking through underbrush
yourself. If I didn't believe folk would travel to one another over
roads, if there _were_ roads, I'd go out and cut my throat."

The big man, troubled and as full of sympathy as a tender woman, paused
in his strides and ejaculated:

"Damn it all, Truedale!" Had he been a woman he would have dissolved in
tears.

Truedale at last caught his meaning. Here was a possible chance to set
the accumulating money free. For two hours, while the sun travelled down
to the west, the men talked over plans and projects.

"Of course I'll look after the boy in the hospital, Dr. McPherson. I
know the short cut to him and he probably can lead me to others, but I
want"--and here Truedale's eyes grew gloomy--"I want you to take with
you down to Pine Cone some checks signed in blank. I know the need of
roads down there," did he not? and for an instant his brows grew
furrowed as he reflected how different his own life might have been, had
travelling been easy, back in the time when he was at the mercy of the
storm.

"I'd like to do something for Pine Cone. Make the roads, of course, but
back up those men and women who are doing God's work down there with
little help or money. They know the people--Jim has explained them to
me. They're not 'extry polite,' Jim says, but they understand the needs.
I don't care to have my name known--I'm rather poor stuff for a
philanthropist--but I want to do something as a starter, and this seems
an inspiration."

McPherson had been listening, and gradually his long strides became less
nervous.

"Until to-day, I haven't wished your uncle back, True