the silent crafty savage, himself the very incarnation of the wilds,
his comrade!

His face grew bright and dreamy at the thought. It was the look which
all restless folk wear at times, reflecting the love of God's
"unmanstifled places" which glorifies their profitless wandering.
Profitless only in the worldly sense of material gain, yet often the
stronger soul is shown in resisting the call to freedom and to nature.

But Dick had not yet learnt his lesson; and once more he chose the way
that pleased him best. "Yes, I will stay," he said.

Peter Many-Names nodded, his usual mode of assent; to him Dick's
evident struggle between inclination and duty had been amusing, and
there was a rare gleam of merriment in his dark face. He had a far
keener appreciation of the situation than had Dick, and it gave him a
boy's feeling of pride to think of all the wonders of the woods he
might show to his white comrade if he chose. "Come, then," he said,
with a flash of his white teeth, "and I show you bear, sleeping much
for winter. Come quiet."

The forests were bright with that soft recollection of spring which the
early morning had promised. The bare twigs seemed as full of life and
colour as if the sap had been rising instead of falling, and the recent
frosts but made the going better. Very silently, Peter Many-Names
turned into the undergrowth, Dick following closely in his track, and
the well-trained dog following Dick as closely. He was troubled in his
mind, this dog, remembering an unguarded bone near the woodpile, and
longing to end such foolish, aimless rambling as his two-legged
companions indulged in. Many were the wistful glances he cast back.

But Dick's face was set to the forests of his dreams, and duty called
him to the homestead in vain.

CHAPTER V.

A Backwoods Christmas.

That was the last time for some months that Dick yielded to his inborn
love of wandering. He had spent a night and the best part of two
eventful days in the woods with Peter Many-Names. And on the second
day he returned to the homestead by devious ways, very much ashamed of
himself.

He became more than ever ashamed when no notice was taken of his
desertion. Roger greeted him somewhat resentfully at first, owing to
the fact that he had had to do all Dick's work as well as his own,
during the younger boy's absence, and Stephanie looked anxious and
grieved. But beyond this, nothing was said or done to remind him of
his f