better acquainted."

He whispered a message to Paul, who sped to the inn and presently
returned with a couple of the famous blue and white mugs frothing
deliciously at the brims. The men, their lips to the bubbles, nodded to
each other. The still beat of the August noon enveloped their bodies,
but a streak of heavenly coolness trickled through their souls. Paul,
looking at them enviously, longed to be grown up.

Then followed a pleasant half-hour of desultory talk. Although the men
did not make him, save for here and there a casual reference, the
subject of their conversation, Paul, with the Vision shimmering before
his eyes, was sensitive enough to perceive in a dim and elusive way
that he was at the back of each man's thoughts and that, for his sake,
each was trying to obtain the measure of the other. At last Barney
Bill, cocking at the sun the skilled eye of the dweller in the
wilderness, called the time for departure.

"Could I see th' picture?" asked Paul.

Rowlatt passed him the sketch-book. The sudden sight of oneself as one
appears in another's eyes is always a shock, even to the most
sophisticated sitter. To Paul it was uncanny. He had often seen his own
reflection and was familiar with his own appearance, but this was the
first time that he had looked at himself impersonally. The sketch was
vivid, the likeness excellent; the motive, the picturesque and romantic.

A proud lift of the chin, an eager glance in the eye, a sensitive curve
of the lip attracted his boyish egotism. The portrait was an ideal,
something to live up to. Involuntarily he composed his features.

Barney Bill again called time. Paul surrendered the sketch-book
reluctantly. Rowlatt, with a cheery word, handed him the shilling fee.
Paul, than whom none better knew the magic quality of money, hesitated
for a second. The boy in the sketch would have refused. Paul drew
himself up. "Nay, I'll take noan. I liked doing it."

Rowlatt laughed and pocketed the coin. "All right," said he, with a
playful bow. "I'm exceedingly indebted to your courtesy."

Barney Bill gave Paul an approving glance. "Good for you, boy. Never
take money you've not earned. Good day to you, sir"--he touched his
cap. "And"--with a motion toward the empty mugs--"thank you kindly."

Rowlatt strolled with them to the van, Barney Bill limping a pace or
two ahead. "Remember what I told you, my young friend," said he in a
low voice. "I don't go back upon my word. I'll help yo