ll to-morrow, Uncle Sebastian," came Hiram's pleading voice.
"Le'me think it over all to-night. You've plumb knocked the props from
under me."

Without another word, Uncle Sebastian climbed up the bank and strode
off through the huckleberries.

CHAPTER II

OUT OF THE WOODS

For over an hour Hiram Hooker lay perfectly still at the creekside.
His wide-open eyes stared dreamily into the water. His mind was
stunned by the present situation. Feverishly and against his will his
thoughts went hurrying back over the years which had led up to this
momentous climax.

A woman moved frequently across the picture--a bent, tired, work-warped
woman--his mother. The pitiable leanness of the life of Hiram's mother
had been appalling. One word stood for the tenor of her days from sun
to sun--nothing. She had never seen a piano or a typewriter, or even a
washing machine. Silent, unmurmuring, she had given her life for
nothing and gone.

Swiftly came in the picture the likeness of Hiram's father--tall,
bewhiskered, strong as an ox, soft-voiced, and easy-going. Nothing but
kindness had emanated from the father to his wife and child. Foster
Hooker, too, had slaved his life away for nothing. The rocky land had
claimed him and held him down. They had had enough to eat and to keep
them warm--beyond that, nothing. Now he lay with Hiram's mother
between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill.

There was in Hiram's thoughts no bitterness against his parents. They
had been always kind and had given their best to him. The rocky land
had held them chained. It offered sustenance, and of the big
progressing world beyond they had lived afraid. In the early days they
had buried themselves in the big woods to make their fortune. But the
fortune was not there, and old age crept on. Old age told them that
the world outside had passed beyond them, and they were afraid.

After all, had they given Hiram nothing? In his bitter moments he had
thought so, but to-day his thoughts were mellowed. He was on the eve
of leaving everything that held memories of them. Had they not given
him of themselves a love for the grandeur of these woods which touched
no other soul, save Uncle Sebastian's, perhaps, in all the valley?
Hiram saw more in a redwood tree than the natives did; saw the beauty
of contrast in the open spots in the forest, where the others saw only
grazing ground for cattle; saw wonders in the rioting streams without a
thoug