Stone, pouting. "I might have
knowed it was ever so much further nor it looked."

"Well, I ain't sayin' I don't want to go, if yu' was desirous of campin'
out to-night."

"Mr. McLean! Indeed, and I'd do no such thing!" and Sabina giggled.

A sage-hen rose under their horses' feet, and hurtled away heavily over
the next rise of ground, taking a final wide sail out of sight.

"Something like them partridges used to," said Lin, musingly.

"Partridges?" inquired Sabina.

"Used to be in the woods between Lynn and Salem. Maybe the woods are
gone by this time. Yes, they must be gone, I guess."

Presently they dismounted and sought the stream bank.

"We had music and dancing at Thanksgiving and such times," said Lin, his
wiry length stretched on the grass beside the seated Sabina. He was not
looking at her, but she took a pleasure in watching him, his curly head
and bronze face, against which the young mustache showed to its full
advantage.

"I expect you used to dance a lot," remarked Sabina, for a subject.

"Yes. Do yu' know the Portland Fancy?"

Sabina did not, and her subject died away.

"Did anybody ever tell you you had good eyes?" she inquired next.

"Why, sure," said Lin, waking for a moment; "but I like your color best.
A girl's eyes will mostly beat a man's."

"Indeed, I don't think so!" exclaimed poor Sabina, too much expectant
to perceive the fatal note of routine with which her transient admirer
pronounced this gallantry. He informed her that hers were like the sea,
and she told him she had not yet looked upon the sea.

"Never?" said he. "It's a turruble pity you've never saw salt water.
It's different from fresh. All around home it's blue--awful blue in
July--around Swampscott and Marblehead and Nahant, and around the
islands. I've swam there lots. Then our home bruck up and we went to
board in Boston." He snapped off a flower in reach of his long arm.
Suddenly all dreaminess left him.

"I wonder if you'll be settin' the colonel's table when I come back?" he
said.

Miss Stone was at a loss.

"I'm goin' East to-morrow--East, to Boston."

Yesterday he had told her that sixteen miles to Lander was the farthest
journey from the post that he intended to make--the farthest from the
post and her.

"I hope nothing ain't happened to your folks?" said she.

"I ain't got no folks," replied Lin, "barring a brother. I expect he is
taking good care of himself."

"Don't you correspond?"

"Well, I gu