d. He was
content to fall behind in the classics, for they were easy, and in
them his arrears gave him no terror. Walking for exercise, he laid
the plan of his tale and had written some bits of verse. Of an
evening he went often to the Sign of the Dial, and there read his
lines and got friendly but severe criticism. He came into the shop
one evening, his "Horace" under his arm.

"'_Maecenas, atavis, edite regibus_'" Trove chanted, pausing to
recall the lines.

The tinker turned quickly. "'_O et presidium et duice decus
meum_,'" he quoted, never stopping until he had finished She ode.

"Is there anything you do not know?" Trove inquired.

"Much," said the tinker, "including the depth o' me own folly. A
man that displays knowledge hath need o' more."

Indeed, Trove rarely came for a talk with Darrel when he failed to
discover something new in him--a further reach of thought and
sympathy or some unsuspected treasure of knowledge. The tinker
loved a laugh and would often search his memory for some phrase of
bard or philosopher apt enough to provoke it. Of his great store
of knowledge he made no vainer use.

Trove had been overworking; and about the middle of June they went
for a week in the woods together. They walked to Allen's the first
day, and, after a brief visit there, went off in the deep woods,
camping on a pond in thick-timbered hills. Coming to the lilied
shore, they sat down a while to rest. A hawk was sailing high
above the still water. Crows began to call in the tree-tops. An
eagle sat on a dead pine at the water's edge and seemed to be
peering down at his own shadow. Two deer stood in a marsh on the
farther shore, looking over at them. Near by were the bones of
some animal, and the fresh footprints of a painter. Sounds echoed
far in the hush of the unbroken wilderness.

"See, boy," said Darrel, with a little gesture of his right hand,
"the theatre o' the woods! See the sloping hills, tree above tree,
like winding galleries. Here is a coliseum old, past reckoning.
Why, boy, long before men saw the Seven Hills it was old. Yet see
how new it is--how fresh its colour, how strong its timbers! See
the many seats, each with a good view, an' the multitude o' the
people, yet most o' them are hidden. Ten thousand eyes are looking
down upon us. Tragedies and comedies o' the forest are enacted
here. Many a thrilling scene has held the stage--the spent deer
swimming for his life, the painte