Roger relaxed and smiled to
himself. It was a good beginning, he thought.

They bought a Ford soon afterwards and in the next few weeks of June they
searched the farms for miles around, slowly adding to their herd. To
Roger's surprise he found many signs of a new life stirring there--the
farmers buying "autos" and improved machinery, thinking of new processes;
and down in the lower valleys they found several big stock farms which were
decidedly modern affairs. At one such place, the man in charge took a fancy
to George and asked him to drop over often.

"You bet I'll drop over often!" George replied, as he climbed excitedly
into his Ford. "I want to see more of those milking machines! We're going
to have 'em some day ourselves! A dynamo too!"

And at home, down by the ruined mill he again set about rebuilding the dam.

Roger felt himself growing stronger. His sleeps were sound, and his
appetite had come back to a surprising degree. The mountain air had got
into his blood and George's warm vigor into his soul. One afternoon,
watching the herd come home, some thirty huge animals swinging along with a
slow heavy power in their limbs, he breathed the strong sweet scent of them
on the mountain breeze. George came running by them and stopped a moment by
Roger's side, watching closely and eagerly every animal as it passed. And
Roger glanced at George's face. The herd passed on and George followed
behind, his collie dog leaping and barking beside him. And Roger looked up
at a billowy cloud resting on a mountain top and wondered whether after all
that New York doctor had been right.

He followed the herd into the barn. In two long rows, the great heads of
the cattle turned hungrily, lowing and sniffing deep, breathing harshly,
stamping, as the fodder cart came down the lines. What a splendidly
wholesome work for a lad, growing up with his roots in the soil, in these
massive simple forces of life. What of Edith's other children? Would they
be willing to stay here long? Each morning Roger breakfasted with Bruce the
baby by his side. "What a thing for you, little lad," he thought, "if you
could live here all your days. But will you? Will you want to stay? Won't
you, too, get the fever, as I did, for the city?" In the joyous, shining,
mysterious eyes of the baby he found no reply. He had many long talks with
Betsy, who was eager to go away to school, and with Bob and little Tad who
were going to school in the village that fall.