the travelers to the edge of the wood and then the
two little girls said good-bye.

"I'll come again in the spring," Esther called back.

Faith stood watching them until the branches of the trees hid them
from sight. The maples seemed to be waving banners of scarlet leaves,
and the slopes of the Green Mountains were beautiful in the glory of
autumn foliage. The sun shone brightly, the sky was as blue as summer,
and as Faith turned to run swiftly along the path to the mill she
almost wished that she too was starting for a day's journey through
the woods. The path ran along beside the mill-stream.

It seemed to Faith that the brook was traveling beside her like a gay
companion, singing as it went. The little girl had had so few
companions, none except an occasional visitor, that she had made
friends with the birds and small woodland animals, and found
companionship in the rippling music of the stream. There was a fine
family of yellow-hammers just below the mill that Faith often visited,
and she was sure that they knew her quite well. She had watched them
build their nest in the early spring; had seen them bring food to the
young birds, and had sat close by the nest while the young birds made
their first efforts to fly. She knew where a fine silver-coated fox
made its home on the rocky hillside beyond the garden-slope, and had
told her father that "Silver-nose," as she had named the fox, knew
that she was his friend, and would lie quite still at the entrance to
its hole, while she would sit on a big rock not far distant.

But Faith was not thinking of these woodland friends as she ran along
toward the mill; she was thinking of what she had heard her father say
to Mr. Eldridge that morning. "Tell Colonel Allen the men of the
Wilderness will be ready whenever he gives the word," Mr. Carew had
said; and Mr. Eldridge had answered that it would not be long. Faith
wondered what her father had meant, and if Colonel Allen would again
visit the mill. She hoped he would, for he had seemed to know all
about the woodland creatures, and had told Faith a wonderful story
about the different months of the year. She thought of it now as she
felt the warmth of the October sunshine.

"October is stirring the fire now," she called to her father, who was
watching her from the door of the mill.

"What do you mean by that, child?" asked her father, smiling down at
Faith's tanned face and bright eyes.

"'Tis what Colonel Allen told me a