e he
dies, and that is exactly what he has done," said Kate.

"The Devil, you say!" shouted George Holt, stepping back to stare at
her. "You tell that at the Insane Asylum or the Feeble Minded Home!
I've seen the records! I know to the acre how much land stands in your
father's name. Don't try to work that on me, my lady."

"I am not trying to work anything on you," said Kate, dully, wondering
to herself why she listened, why she went on with it. "I'm merely
telling you. In Father's big chest at the head of his bed at home lies
a deed for two hundred acres of land for each of his seven sons, all
signed and ready to deliver. He keeps the land in his name on record
to bring him distinction and feed his vanity. He makes the boys pay
the taxes, and ko-tow, and help with his work; he keeps them under
control; but the land is theirs; none of the girls get a penny's worth
of it!"

George Holt cleared his face with an effort.

"Well, we are no worse off than the rest of them, then," he said,
trying to speak naturally and cheerfully. "But don't you ever believe
it! Little old Georgie will sleep with this in his night cap awhile,
and it's a problem he will solve if he works himself to death on it."

"But that is Father's affair," said Kate. "You had best turn your
efforts, and lie awake nights thinking how to make enough money to buy
some land for us, yourself."

"Certainly! Certainly! I see myself doing it!" laughed George Holt.
"And now, knowing how you feel, and feeling none to good myself, we are
going to take a few days off and go upstream, fishing. I'll take a
pack of comforts to sleep on, and the tackle and some food, and we will
forget the whole bunch and go have a good time. There's a place, not
so far away, where I have camped beside a spring since I was a little
shaver, and it's quiet and cool. Go get what you can't possibly exist
without, nothing more."

"But we must dig the potatoes," protested Kate.

"Let them wait until we get back; it's a trifle early, anyway," he
said. "Stop objecting and get ready! I'll tell Aunt Ollie. We're
chums. Whatever I do is always all right with her. Come on! This is
our wedding trip. Not much like the one you had planned, no doubt, but
one of some kind."

So they slipped beneath the tangle of vines and bushes, and, following
the stream of the ravine, they walked until mid-afternoon, when they
reached a spot that was very lovely, a clear, clean spring, gra