expressed her
pleasure at seeing them such good friends.

After prayers and breakfast, the pedestrians prepared to leave, much to
the regret of the household.

"Where are you bound for now?" asked Mr. Hill, to which Wilkinson
replied, with the air of a guide-book, "for the Beaver River." The Baby,
nothing the worse of last night's wakefulness, volunteered to show them
the way by a shorter and pleasanter route than the main road, and they
gladly availed themselves of his services. As the party walked on, the
guide said to Coristine, "I hard fayther say that you were a lawyer, is
that true?" Coristine answered that he was.

"Then, sir, you ought to know something about that man Rodden; he's a
bad lot."

"What makes you think so?"

"He knows all the doubtfullest and shadiest settlers about, and has long
whispers with them, and gets a lot of money from them. His pocketbook is
just bulging out with bank bills."

"Perhaps it is the payment of his grindstones, Rufus."

"You don't tell me that a lawyer, a clever man like you, believe in his
grindstones?"

"Why not? Doesn't he make and sell them?"

"Yes; he makes them and sells them in bundles of half-a-dozen, but the
buyer of a bundle only has two to show, and they're no good, haven't
grit enough to sharpen a wooden spoon."

"How do you know all this?"

"Mostly out of big Ben Toner. He used to be a good sort of fellow, but
is going all to ruination with the drink. I saw his grindstones and what
came between 'em. It's more like a barl than anything else, but Ben kept
me off looking at it close."

"Where does Toner live?"

"Down at the river where you're going. There's a nice, quiet tavern
there, where you'll likely put up, and he'll be round it, likely, and
pretty well on by noon. He don't drink there, though, nor the
tavern-keeper don't buy no grindstones like he does. Well, here you are
on the track, and I must get back to help dad. Keep right on till you
come to the first clearing, and then ask your way. Good-bye, wishing you
a good time, and don't forget that man Rodden." They shook the Baby
warmly by the hand, and reciprocated his good wishes, Coristine
promising to keep his eyes and ears open for news of the Grinstun man.

"Did you overhear our talk, Wilks, my boy?" he asked his friend.

"No; I thought it was private, and kept in the background. I do not
consider it honourable to listen to a conversation to which one is not
invited, and doubtless it wa