an ass! But it must be. Ah! Mrs. Belcher--Mrs. Belcher--Mrs.
Belcher! You are good, but you are lumpy. You were pretty once, but you
are no Mrs. Dillingham. By the gods! Wouldn't she swim around my house
like a queen! Far in azure depths of space, I behold a star! Its light
shines for me. It doesn't? It must not? Who says that? Did you address
that remark to me, sir? By the way, how do you think you got along? Did
you make a fool of yourself, or did you make a fool of somebody? Honors
are easy. Let Robert Belcher alone! Is Toll making money a little too
fast? What do you think? Perhaps you will settle that question by and
by. You will keep him while you can use him. Then Toll, my boy, you can
drift. In the meantime, splendor! and in the meantime let Sevenoaks
howl, and learn to let Robert Belcher alone."

From these dizzy heights of elation Mr. Belcher descended to his bed and
his heavy dreams, and the next morning found him whirling away at the
rate of thirty miles an hour, but not northward. Whither was he going?

CHAPTER X.

WHICH TELLS HOW A LAWYER SPENT HIS VACATION IN CAMP, AND TOOK HOME A
SPECIMEN OF GAME THAT HE HAD NEVER BEFORE FOUND IN THE WOODS.

It was a bright moonlight night when Mike Conlin and Jim started off
from Sevenoaks for home, leaving Mr. Balfour and his boy to follow. The
old horse had a heavy load, and it was not until an hour past midnight
that Mike's house was reached. There Jim made the new clothes,
comprising a complete outfit for his boarders at Number Ten, into a
convenient package, and swinging it over his shoulders, started for his
distant cabin on foot. Mike, after resting himself and his horse, was to
follow in the morning with the tools and stores, so as to arrive at the
river at as early an hour as Mr. Balfour could complete the journey from
Sevenoaks, with his lighter load and swifter horses.

Jim Fenton, who had lain still for several days, and was full of his
schemes for Mr. Balfour and his proteges in camp, and warm with his
memories of Miss Butterworth, simply gloried in his moonlight tramp. The
accumulated vitality of his days of idleness was quite enough to make
all the fatigues before him light and pleasant. At nine o'clock the next
morning he stood by the side of his boat again. The great stillness of
the woods, responding in vivid color to the first kisses of the frost,
half intoxicated him. No world-wide wanderer, returning after many years
to the home of his c