but he owned that he had had enough,
and tried to picture the Old Country his father talked about. Its
woods were not primitive jungles, wrecked by gales and scorched by
fires; men planted and tended them and the trees had room to grow.
White farmsteads with gardens and orchards dotted the valleys; the
narrow fields were rich with grass and corn. Then there were wonderful
old houses, stored with treasures of art.

Well, he meant to see England some day and he began to think about the
girl he had met at Montreal. She seemed to stand for all that was best
in the Old Country; its refinement, its serenity, and ancient charm.
One did not find girls like that in Canada; they were the product of
long cultivation and sprang from a stock whose roots went deep into the
past. Jim wondered with a strange longing whether he would see her
again.

Perhaps it was the contrast that presently fixed his thoughts on
Carrie. Carrie was a type that throve in virgin soil; she was virile,
frank, and unafraid. Her emotions were not hid by inherited reserve.
One could imagine her fighting like a wildcat for the man she loved.
Yet she had a fresh beauty and a vein of tenderness. Jim was fond of
Carrie but not in love with her. He wondered whether he might have
loved her had he not met the English girl, but pulled himself up. This
kind of speculation led to nothing, and he began to look about.

The shadows of the pines had got shorter and blacker as the moon rose;
the hill was checkered by their dark bars. He could not see far down
the valley, because it was full of mist. The great hollow looked like
a caldron in which the river boiled. Its hoarse roar echoed among the
rocks and made a harmonious background for smaller and sharper notes.
A faint breeze sighed in the pine-tops and now and then there was a
tinkle of falling stones.

Jim saw some stones roll down and stop at the wall he had built. This
ran in a gentle curve across the slope and shone like silver in the
moonlight. In places, it was broken by shadows that seemed to tremble
and melt. Jim knew he was getting sleepy and tried to rouse himself.
It was something of an effort, because he had not slept much for a
week, but by and by the strain slackened and he got suddenly alert.

An indistinct object moved where a shadow fell across the wall, and Jim
knew it was a man. He was conscious of a grim satisfaction; he had
watched for the fellow when brain and body needed rest,