pert for the ribbon counter, but he had a certain
confidence that he could tell the man or the woman who would make good in
Little Rivers. No manager was more thorough in his observation of clerks
for promotion than Jack in observing would-be ranchers. He had given his
promise to one after another of a test list of disciples; and at times he
had been surprised to find how serious both he and the disciples were
over a matter that existed entirely on the hypothesis that he was not
going to stay permanently in New York.

This morning he was at the store for the last time, arriving even before
the delivery division, to circulate the news that he was returning to
Little Rivers. Trouble was brewing out there, he explained, but they
could depend on him. He would make a place for them and send word when he
was ready; and all whom he had marked as faithful were eager to go. Thus
he had builded unwittingly for another future of responsibilities when he
had paused in the midst of the store's responsibilities to tell stories
of how a desert ranch is run.

But one disciple did not even want to wait on the message. It was Peter
Mortimer, whom Jack caught on his way to the elevator at eight, his usual
hour, to make sure of having the letters opened and systematically
arranged when his employer should appear.

"So you are going, Jack! And--and, Jack, you know?" asked Peter
significantly.

"Yes, Peter. And I see that you know."

"I do, but my word is given not to tell."

Through that night's march Jack had guessed enough. He had guessed his
fill of chill misery, which now took the place of the hunger of inquiry.
The full truth was speeding out to the desert. It was with John Prather.

"Then I will not press you, Peter," he said. "But, Peter, just one
question, if you care to answer; was it--was it this thing that drove my
mother into exile?"

"Yes, Jack."

Then a moment's silence, with Peter's eyes full of sympathy and Jack's
dull with pain.

"And, Jack," Peter went on, "well, I've been so long at it that suddenly,
now you're going, I feel choked up, as if I were about to overflow with
anarchy. Jack, I'm going to give notice that I will retire as soon as
there is somebody to take my place. I want to rest and not have to keep
trying to remember if I have forgotten anything. I've saved up a little
money and whatever happens out there, why, there'll be some place I can
buy where I can grow roses and salads, as you say, if nothi