ilege for Dickerson's land was of recent
arrangement--so recent indeed, that the young farmer believed he could
see some fresh-turned earth about the newly-set posts.

"That's something to be looked into, I am afraid," thought Hiram, as he
moved along the southern pasture fence.

But the trickle of the branch beckoned him; he had not found the
fountain-head of the little stream when he had walked over a part of the
timbered land with Henry Pollock, and now he struck into the open woods
again, digging into the soil here and there with his heavy boot, marking
the quality and age of the timber, and casting-up in his mind the
possibilities and expense of clearing these overgrown acres.

"Mrs. Atterson may have a very valuable piece of land here in time,"
muttered Hiram. "A sawmill set up in here could cut many a hundred
thousand feet of lumber--and good lumber, too. But it would spoil the
beauty of the farm."

However, as must ever be in the case of the utility farm, the house was
set on its ugliest part. The cleared fields along the road had nothing
but the background of woods on the south and east to relieve their
monotony.

On the brow of the steeper descent, which he had noted on his former
visit to the back end of the farm, he found a certain clearing in the
wood. Here the pines surrounded the opening on three sides.

To the south, through a break in the wooded hillside, he obtained a
far-reaching view of the river valley as it lay, to the east and to the
west. The prospect was delightful.

Here and there, on the farther bank of the river, which rose less
abruptly there than on this side, lay several cheerful looking
farmsteads. The white dwellings and outbuildings dotted the checkered
fields of green and brown.

Cowbells tinkled in the distance, for the weather tempted farmers to let
their cattle run in the pastures even so early in the season. A horse
whinnied shrilly to a mate in a distant field.

The creaking of the heavy wheels of a laden farm-cart was a mellow sound
in Hiram's ears. Beyond a fir plantation, high on the hillside, the
sharply outlined steeple of a little church lay against the soft blue
horizon.

"A beauty-spot!" Hiram muttered. "What a site for a home! And yet people
want to build their houses right on an automobile road, and in sight of
the rural mail box!"

His imagination began to riot, spurred by the outlook and by the nearer
prospect of wood and hillside. The sun now lay warmly