mean anything in particular."

"Have you heard of the faction which is growing up in the church against
me?"

Harold hesitated. "Yes--but I wasn't thinking of that particularly." He
betrayed a little interest. "What's the matter with 'em?"

"There has been an element in the church hostile to me from the first,
and during your trial and sentence these persons have used every effort
to spread a feeling against me. How wide it is I can not tell, but I
know it is strong. It may end my work here, for I will not cringe to
them. They will find me iron."

Harold's heart warmed suddenly. Without knowing it the father had again
struck the right note to win his son. "That's right," the boy said,
"don't let 'em tramp on you."

A lump arose in the minister's throat. There was something very sweet in
Harold's sympathy. His eyes smiled, even while they were dim with tears.
He held out his hand and Harold took it.

"Well, now, my son, it's time for you to start. Don't you worry about
me. I am a fighter when I am aroused."

Harold smiled back into his face, and so it was that the two men parted,
for the father, in a flash of insight, understood that no more than this
could be gained; but his heart was lighter than it had been for many
months as he saw his son ride away from his door.

"Write often, Harold," he called after them.

"All right. You let me know how the fight comes out. If they whip you,
come out West," was Harold's reply; then he turned in his seat. "Drive
ahead, Jack; there's no one now but your folks for whom I care."

As they drove out along the muddy lanes the hearts of the two boys
became very tender. Harold, filled with exaltation by every familiar
thing--by the flights of ground sparrows, by the patches of green grass,
by the smell of the wind, by the infrequent boom of the prairie
chickens--talked incessantly.

"What makes me maddest," he broke out, "is to think they've cheated me
out of seeing one fall and one winter. I didn't see the geese fly
south, and now here they are all going north again. Some time I mean to
find out where they go to." He took off his hat. "This wind will mighty
soon take the white out o' me, won't it?" He was very gay. He slapped
his chum on the shoulder and shouted with excitement. "We must keep
going, old man, till we strike the buffalo. They are the sign of wild
country that _is_ wild. I want to get where there ain't any fences."

Jack smiled sadly in reply. Harold knew he