upon the woods. The wild
geese, flying over Number Nine, had called to Jim with news from the
Arctic, and he had looked up at the huge harrow scraping the sky, and
said: "I seen ye, an' I know what ye mean."

The timber was cut of appropriate length and rolled upon low
scaffoldings, where it could be conveniently hewed during the winter;
then two days were spent in hunting and in setting traps for sable and
otter, and then the two men were ready to arrange for the lumber.

This involved the necessity of a calculation of the materials required,
and definite specifications of the same. Not only this, but it required
that Mr. Benedict should himself accompany Jim on the journey to the
mill, three miles beyond Mike Conlin's house. He naturally shrank from
this exposure of himself; but so long as he was not in danger of coming
in contact with Mr. Belcher, or with any one whom he had previously
known, he was persuaded that the trip would not be unpleasant to him. In
truth, as he grew stronger personally, and felt that his boy was out of
harm's way, he began to feel a certain indefinite longing to see
something of the world again, and to look into new faces.

As for Jim, he had no idea of returning to Number Nine again until he
had seen Sevenoaks, and that one most interesting person there with whom
he had associated his future, although he did not mention his plan to
Mr. Benedict.

The ice was already gathering in the stream, and the winter was
descending so rapidly that they despaired of taking their boat down to
the old landing, and permitting it to await their return, as they would
be almost certain to find it frozen in, and be obliged to leave it there
until spring. They were compelled, therefore, to make the complete
journey on foot, following to the lower landing the "tote-road" that
Mike Conlin had taken when he came to them on his journey of discovery.

They started early one morning about the middle of November, and, as the
weather was cold, Turk bore them company. Though Mr. Benedict had become
quite hardy, the tramp of thirty miles over the frozen ground, that had
already received a slight covering of snow, was a cruel one, and taxed
to their utmost his powers of endurance.

Jim carried the pack of provisions, and left his companion without a
load; so by steady, quiet, and almost speechless walking, they made the
entire distance to Mike Conlin's house before the daylight had entirely
faded from the pale, cold