far down in the
valley by the river.

Within the shack a wide fireplace dominated one side of the main room.
It was June now, and the ashes lay cold on the hearth; but from the
tiny lean-to in the rear came the smell and the sputter of bacon
sizzling over a blaze. The furnishings of the room were simple, yet, in
a way, out of the common. There were two bunks, a few rude but
comfortable chairs, a table, two music-racks, two violins with their
cases, and everywhere books, and scattered sheets of music. Nowhere was
there cushion, curtain, or knickknack that told of a woman's taste or
touch. On the other hand, neither was there anywhere gun, pelt, or
antlered head that spoke of a man's strength and skill. For decoration
there were a beautiful copy of the Sistine Madonna, several photographs
signed with names well known out in the great world beyond the
mountains, and a festoon of pine cones such as a child might gather and
hang.

From the little lean-to kitchen the sound of the sputtering suddenly
ceased, and at the door appeared a pair of dark, wistful eyes.

"Daddy!" called the owner of the eyes.

There was no answer.

"Father, are you there?" called the voice, more insistently.

From one of the bunks came a slight stir and a murmured word. At the
sound the boy at the door leaped softly into the room and hurried to
the bunk in the corner. He was a slender lad with short, crisp curls at
his ears, and the red of perfect health in his cheeks. His hands, slim,
long, and with tapering fingers like a girl's, reached forward eagerly.

"Daddy, come! I've done the bacon all myself, and the potatoes and the
coffee, too. Quick, it's all getting cold!"

Slowly, with the aid of the boy's firm hands, the man pulled himself
half to a sitting posture. His cheeks, like the boy's, were red--but
not with health. His eyes were a little wild, but his voice was low and
very tender, like a caress.

"David--it's my little son David!"

"Of course it's David! Who else should it be?" laughed the boy. "Come!"
And he tugged at the man's hands.

The man rose then, unsteadily, and by sheer will forced himself to
stand upright. The wild look left his eyes, and the flush his cheeks.
His face looked suddenly old and haggard. Yet with fairly sure steps he
crossed the room and entered the little kitchen.

Half of the bacon was black; the other half was transparent and like
tough jelly. The potatoes were soggy, and had the unmistakable taste