e knew when and where
to begin and stop in any self-indulgence, but having fulfilled his part
he showed no interest or curiosity in his companion. Once the trading
station was reached, Farwell might buy or seek pleasure as he chose; he
might write or receive letters; might sleep or wake. So long as the
tangible Farwell was where the guide could locate him at a moment's
notice, he was free to think and act to his own satisfaction.

As he plodded on Farwell contemplated, as he never had before, his
relations with the Indian; in fact, the Indian himself. A superficial
friendliness had sprung up between the two. How deep was it? how much to
be depended upon? If Ledyard could buy the fellow, might not a higher
price secure his allegiance? This, strange to say, was a new thought to
Farwell. Perhaps he had accepted the situation too doggedly; it was his
way to cease struggling when the tide turned against him. It was
weakness, it was folly, and, after Priscilla went, after the girl opened
the doors again into that old life, how could he endure the loneliness,
the tugging of her hold upon him from the place he once had called his?

The day came late to the deep woods beyond Kenmore, and Farwell seemed
going toward the night instead of facing the morning. At five he paused
to feed his dogs and take a bite himself, and, as he sat upon a fallen
tree, the mystic stirrings of life thrilled him as they often had before.
It was more a sense of rustle and awakening than actual sound. Hidden
under the silence of the forest lay the quivering promises, as the rosy
light lay just on the border of the woodland. Both were pressing warm and
comfortingly close to the lonely man with his patient dogs at his feet.
Farwell was a better man, a finer man, than he knew, but only
subconsciously did this support him.

It was three of the afternoon before he heard the quick, measured steps
on the trail behind him. He did not turn his head, but he called back a
genial "Hello!" which was answered by a grunt not devoid of friendliness.

The evening meal was eaten together, and the two arranged their blankets
near the fire for the night's rest. Farwell's two dogs and Pine's one
faithful henchman lay down in peace a short distance away. It was as it
had been for a time back, except that the Indian had become, suddenly,
either an obstacle to be overcome or a friend to assist. Not realizing
his new importance, the guide grunted a good night and fell into th