rain of high air currents, has been pecked out of the nest. No
doubt the young eagle resents his unexpected banishment, although in
time he would have felt within himself the urge to go. Leave Bud alone,
and soon or late he would have gone--perhaps with compunctions against
leaving home, and the feeling that he was somehow a disappointment to
his parents. He would have explained to his father, apologized to his
mother. As it was, he resented the alacrity with which his father was
pushing him out.

So he packed his clothes that night, and pushed his guitar into its case
and buckled the strap with a vicious yank, and went off to the bunkhouse
to eat supper with the boys instead of sitting down to the table where
his mother had placed certain dishes which Buddy loved best--wanting to
show in true woman fashion her love and sympathy for him.

Later--it was after Bud had gone to bed--mother came and had a long talk
with him. She was very sweet and sensible, and Bud was very tender with
her. But she could not budge him from his determination to go and make
his way without a Birnie dollar to ease the beginning. Other men had
started with nothing and had made a stake, and there was no reason why
he could not do so.

"Dad put it straight enough, and it's no good arguing. I'd starve before
I'd take anything from him. I'm entitled to my clothes, and maybe a
horse or two for the work I've done for him while I was growing up. I've
figured out pretty close what it cost to put me through the University,
and what I was worth to him during the summers. Father's Scotch--but
he isn't a darned bit more Scotch than I am, mother. Putting it all
in dollars and cents, I think I've earned more than I cost him. In the
winters, I know I earned my board doing chores and riding line. Many a
little bunch of stock I've saved for him by getting out in the foothills
and driving them down below heavy snowline before a storm. You remember
the bunch of horses I found by watching the magpies--the time we tied
hay in canvas and took it up to them 'til they got strength enough to
follow the trail I trampled in the snow? I earned my board and more,
every winter since I was ten. So I don't believe I owe dad a cent, when
it's all figured out.

"But you've done for me what money can't repay, mother. I'll always be
in debt to you--and I'll square it by being the kind of a man you've
tried to teach me to be. I will, mother. Dad and the dollars are a
different