in his heart.

CHAPTER XVII

SOMEWHAT OF A MYSTERY

A long, dusty road swept by the bleak wind of a November day. A boy,
young man he seemed in his ragged frontier garb, trudged wearily on.
The long rifle he carried had a fancifully carved stock, once the
pride of a veteran Wyandotte chief.

The lad's face was worn and thin and, by reason of long exposure, almost
the colour of an Indian's. "Four miles further to Charlottesville," he
said, and threw himself down beside the road as one exhausted. At the
sound of a galloping horse he looked up with dull, sullen eyes, into
which there came a flash of recognition and he cried, "Nat, old boy!"
The horse stopped so quickly his rider narrowly escaped being unhorsed.

"What in thunder are you doing? er--shadder of old black Tom! is it
you, Rodney Allison, or your ghost?"

"I feel like a ghost, Angus, and I don't think I'm heavy enough to
bother Nat if we ride double back to town. How is mother and 'Omi?
and how did you come by Nat? Is the place gone? I feared Denham had
the colt."

"Never heard that ghosts could ask questions or I'd sure think ye was
one. Ride double? You bet ye can, an' if thar ain't horse enough, I'll
walk. Give us yer hand, thar, now I'll answer the rest o' yer
questions. The folks are right smart but powerful anxious fer yer dad.
Reckon they'd lost hope o' seein' you again."

"Father was killed in the battle at Point Pleasant."

"Yer father killed! An' he thought you was dead. He was a good man,
Rodney. Everybody'll be mighty sorry to hear that," and then, words
failing, he said no more and in silence they arrived at the Allison
home. Angus led the colt to the stable while Rodney entered the
house.

Mam saw him first, and for a moment she was almost a white woman. His
mother fainted and his little sister ran from him in terror. But why
attempt to describe that which words fail to express? Tragedies were
not uncommon in the frontier homes of that day in this new land, and
wives and mothers were heroines, though the great outside world never
was to learn their names and Fame could not record them.

Angus with true delicacy went to his home, but later in the day
called, and the two boys had a long talk.

"You haven't answered my questions, yet, Angus. I haven't felt like
talking business with mother. I find poor old Thello sick and I don't
know as Mam will ever get over her scare at sight of me."

"Thello's bein' sick was why I was ex