river bed turned and wound up through a cleft in the
hills to the homestead several miles away. On the dark forest road beside
it he pictured George, his grandson, at this moment driving down to meet
them in a mountain wagon with one of the two hired men, a lantern swinging
under the wheels. What an adventure for young George.

Presently he heard Deborah stirring in the berth next to his own.

At the station George was there, and from a thermos bottle which Edith had
filled the night before he poured coffee piping hot, which steamed in the
keen, frosty air.

"Oh, how good!" cried Deborah. "How thoughtful of your mother, George. How
is she, dear?"

"Oh, she's all right, Aunt Deborah." His blunt freckled features flushed
from his drive, George stood beaming on them both. He appeared, if
anything, tougher and scrawnier than before. "Everything's all right," he
said. "There ain't a sick animal on the whole farm."

As Roger sipped his coffee he was having a look at the horses. One of them
was William, his cob.

"Do you see it?" inquired his grandson.

"What?"

"The boil," George answered proudly, "on William's rump. There it is--on
the nigh side. Gee, but you ought to have seen it last week. It was a whale
of a boil," said George, "but we poulticed him, me and Dave did--and now
the swelling's nearly gone. You can ride him to-morrow if you like."

Luxuriously Roger lit a cigar and climbed to the front seat with George. Up
the steep and crooked road the stout horses tugged their way, and the wagon
creaked, and the Gale River, here only a brook, came gurgling, dashing to
meet them--down from the mountains, from the farm, from Roger's youth to
welcome him home. And the sun was flashing through the pines. As they drew
near the farmhouse through a grove of sugar maples, he heard shrill cries
of, "There they come!" And he glimpsed the flying figures of George's
brothers, Bob and Tad. George whipped up the horses, the wagon gained upon
the boys and reached the house but a few rods behind the little runners.
Edith was waiting by the door, fresh and smiling, blooming with health.
How well this suited her, Roger thought. Amid a gay chorus of greetings he
climbed down heavily out of the wagon, looked about him and drew a deep
breath. The long lazy days on the farm had begun.

From the mountain side the farm looked down on a wide sweeping valley of
woods and fields. The old house straggled along the road, with addition
after