I only had your wisdom," said Forrest, as they parted.

"Ye'd have need o' more," the tinker answered.

Trove and Darrel walked to the clearing above Faraway. At a corner
on the high hills, where northward they could see smoke and spire
of distant villages, each took his way,--one leading to
Hillsborough, the other to Allen's.

"Good-by; an' when I return I hope to bear the rest o' thy tale,"
said Darrel, as they parted.

"Only God is wise enough to finish it," said the young man.

"'Well, God help us; 'tis a world to see,'" Darrel quoted, waving
his hand. "If thy heart oppress thee, steer for the Blessed Isles."

XXI

Robin's Inn

A big maple sheltered the house of the widow Vaughn. After the
noon hour of a summer day its tide of shadow began flowing fathoms
deep over house and garden to the near field, where finally it
joined the great flood of night. The maple was indeed a robin's
inn at some crossing of the invisible roads of the air. Its green
dome towered high above and fell to the gable end of the little
house. Its deep and leafy thatch hid every timber of its frame
save the rough column. Its trunk was the main beam, each limb a
corridor, each tier of limbs a floor, and branch rose above branch
like steps in a stairway. Up and down the high dome of the maple
were a thousand balconies overlooking the meadow.

From its highest tier of a summer morning the notes of the bobolink
came rushing off his lyre, and farther down the golden robin
sounded his piccolo. But, chiefly, it was the home and refuge of
the familiar red-breasted robin. The inn had its ancient customs.
Each young bird, leaving his cradle, climbed his own stairway till
he came out upon a balcony and got a first timid look at field and
sky. There he might try his wings and keep in the world he knew by
using bill and claw on the lower tiers.

At dawn the great hall of the maple rang with music, for every
lodger paid his score with song. Therein it was ever cool, and
clean, and shady, though the sun were hot. Its every nook and
cranny was often swept and dusted by the wind. Its branches
leading up and outward to the green wall were as innumerable
stairways. Each separate home was out on rocking beams, with its
own flicker of sky light overhead. For a time at dusk there was a
continual flutter of weary wings at the lower entrance, a good
night twitter, and a sound of tiny feet climbing the stairways in
that gloomy hall.