work, and Donald sensed,
rather than saw, that the tears were very near to the surface. Another
roseate dream of childhood had been ruthlessly shattered, and he hated
himself for having witlessly engendered it in her mind, since it could
only be born to die unrealized.

When she spoke again, it was to say with a telltale quaver in her
subdued voice, "I reckon thet us mountain folks kaint never do
worthwhile things, fer all sech take er mighty lot er larnin'."

"There are two kinds of learning in this world, Rose, one of the mind,
and the other of the heart. And without the benefits which come from the
latter, the things of the former would be of little use. You may be sure
that helping one's neighbors, as you are always helping yours; being
happy yourself and making others contented and happier, and bringing
smiles to the lips of friends by the example of your own sweet smile;
are things very much worth while," said Donald, haltingly, but with
sincerity. He placed his arm about her slender shoulder, with the
half-hope that she would accept his comfort, and perhaps cry out the
last of her disappointment with her head on his breast. Instead, she
turned sharply away and went on with the work she had started, and the
man followed her grandfather outside, realizing that hers, like most
battles within the soul, must be fought out alone.

In a few moments, and while he was still talking to Big Jerry, Rose
joined them on the stoop. A quick glance at her flowerlike face told
Donald that her childish--but none the less real--grief was banished,
for a smile of victory curved her lips.

"Ef ye haint a-goin' ter the city right away, doctor," said his host,
"we would be downright pleased ter hev ye come up ergin. I've come ter
like ye right well."

"Indeed I shall--come every day if I may, for you and little Rose seem
like old friends of mine already. And, when I do go back next week, you
may be sure that I shall not forget either of you, or your hospitality."

He picked up his rifle regretfully, whistled to Mike, who came bounding
to him, but whose tail drooped ludicrously when he understood by canine
instinct that the call meant separation from his new comrade, and with a
final good-bye wave, struck off into the woods.

CHAPTER V

GIVING AND RECEIVING

The call of the Jungle Folk, "Good hunting," was not fulfilled during
Donald's day in the forest. Game there was aplenty, but he made clumsy
work of following the