e yacht. On this occasion, Sutton spoke definitely of
his plans. The railroad branch north from the main line was now a
certainty, and the construction would soon start. At that time, Zeke
would return to North Carolina, and set about securing options on the
best available timber. A mill would be built, and the manufacture of
tree-nails carried on. Zeke, in addition to an adequate salary, would
receive a certain share of the profits. The prospect was one to
delight any ambitious young man, and Zeke appreciated it to the full.
But most of all he rejoiced that his success should come to him in the
place he loved, where the girl waited.

Zeke had a companion, who shared with him the tiny hall-room, and kept
at his side in long evening rambles through the city streets. It came
about in this wise:

It was one afternoon when he had been in New York for a week, that a
visitor entered, unannounced, the office where he was listening
intently to Sutton's crisp explanations of business routine. Zeke
looked up at the sound of the opening door. Then, his jaw dropped, his
eyes widened. Next moment, he sprang to his feet, his face radiant
with welcome. His phrases, in the excitement of this meeting, were the
mountaineer's idioms, which new associations were beginning to modify
in his ordinary speech.

"Why, hit's shorely Miss Josephine!" he cried, as he advanced upon
her, with outstretched hand. He saw the dog, straining toward him on
the leash. "An' thet-thar man-faced dawg!"

There was a little interval of confusion, while greetings were
exchanged amid the demonstrative antics of the bull-terrier. Sutton
was called away presently, and then the girl explained the object of
her visit.

"You never noticed it," she said somewhat pettishly; "but one time on
the yacht, I came up on deck with Chubbie. You were over by the rail.
You snapped your fingers to him. I ordered him to stay with me. He
wouldn't mind. He went to you. Well, I decided right then what I'd
do."

"Why, shucks, Miss Josephine!" Zeke exclaimed, in much distress. "He
jest nacherly didn't mean nothin' by thet."

"He showed something by it, though," was the retort. "He showed that
he belonged to you, and not to me. So, here he is." She held out the
leash to Zeke, who took it doubtfully, only half-comprehending. As he
was about to speak, a gesture checked him.

"I'm not really a bit generous in giving him to you. My dog must like
me better than anyone else in the wo