ich the animal had doubled himself, and the side
spring he had made. It was growing dusk, now, also. They were not
more than a mile from Brickfield Basin, and the sun was dropping
behind the hills.

"I shall take you out, and lead him by," he said. "I've no wish to
give you another spill. We won't go on through life in that way."

It was quite as well that they had only another mile to go. Rodney
was keeping his promise, but the thread of it was wearing very thin.

They rode slowly up the opposite slope, then waited, in their turn,
on the top, to give the team time to reach the next level.

They heard it creak and grind as it wore heavily down, taking up
the whole track with careful zigzag tackings; they could see, as it
turned, how the pole stood sharp up between the shoulders of the
straining wheel horses, as their haunches pressed out either way,
and their backs hollowed, and their noses came together, and the
driver touched them dexterously right and left upon their flanks to
bring them in again.

"Uncle Kit has a good teamster there," said Rodney.

Just against the foot of the next rise, they overtook him. The gray
nag that Rodney drove pricked his ears and stretched his head up,
and began to take short, cringing steps, as they drew near the
formidable, moving mass.

Rodney jumped out, and keeping eye and hand upon him, helped down
Sylvie also. Then he threw the long reins over his arm, and took the
horse by the bridle.

The animal made a half parenthesis of himself, curving skittishly,
and watching jealously, as he went by the frightsome pile.

"You see it was as well not to risk it," Rodney said, as Sylvie came
up with him beyond. "He would have had us down there among the
blackberry vines. He's all right now. Will you get in?"

"Let us walk on to the top," said Sylvie. "It is so pleasant to feel
one's feet upon the ground."

They kept on, accordingly; the slow team rumbling behind them. At
the top, was a wide, beautiful level; oak-trees and maples grew
along the roadside, and fields stretched out along a table land to
right and left. Before them, lying in the golden mist of twilight,
was a sea of distant hill-tops,--purple and shadow-black and gray.
The sky bent down its tender, mellow sphere, and touched them
softly.

Sylvie stood still, with folded hands, and Rodney stopped the
horse. A rod or two back, just at the edge of the level, the loaded
wagon had stopped also.

"Hills,--and the sunset