e my lungs feel new. From frost-rimmed earth to
infinity it seemed to stretch in clean and filtered clarity. The
mountains were no longer ragged piles of chocolate and slate. The fresh
vigor of morning had folded them in the softening dyes of a dozen
inspiriting colors. Distance merged the leafless trees into veil-like
masses of dove browns and grays where shadows of violet lurked and
deepened. The woods wore a brave, if ragged, coat of russet and burgundy
and orange with a strong hint of that purple which is the proper garb of
kings and hills. As we rode along ridges we looked down into vast basins
of variegated country, rough but essentially beautiful. On the lips of
the young day was a silent bugle-call of color. Above and about us the
high-piled barriers of the mountains clambered steeply into space where
the sky was blue and tuneful.

I understood why Marcus had so resentfully repudiated the suggestion of
turning his back on this country. I knew that a man whose eyes had first
opened on such scenes would not wish that their last gaze should be
exiled. Rough and hard as life among these peaks might be, there brooded
a spirit here which would make flight impossible. The roots of the
laurel would hold the native son planted where his life had come to bud
and leaf. The eagle's brood would not go down to seek the easy security
of prim orchards and smooth meadows.

We rode sometimes for hours on end without seeing a cabin. Then we would
come upon a rude habitation of logs and pause to pass greetings with a
gaunt man in butternut brown, and would catch a glimpse of tow-headed
children and slatternly women.

So civil were all these salutations; so at variance with any idea of
violence that the elaborate precautions of Marcus (the very fashion in
which we were now riding armed and _en cortege_) began to assume a
ludicrous grotesquerie.

Of course, I argued with myself, the attorney knew his own country and I
did not, yet I was morally certain that Weighborne and I could have gone
about our business unescorted and as secure as though we were inspecting
suburban lots under the guidance of a real-estate dealer. I suggested
something of the sort to Marcus and his only response for the moment was
a grim smile. Then he patiently began to explain.

"At this moment," he said, "Jim Garvin knows just where we are and just
what we're doing. We have spoken to three men. Of that three at least
two have notified the store of our pas