For some time no one spoke, and Old Pete sat silently by, a sympathetic
witness of the little scene. "It will do the lassie good," he said to
himself. "If them tears hadn't come I'd be a-feered, jist as I would
of a biler without any safety valve."

After awhile Constance dried her eyes and, turning to Pete, apologized
for her emotion.

"But then, I know, you understand. Kenneth was so dear to us--and to
think that we shall never see him again!"

"Don't say that, lassie. As ye are a Christian woman ye must believe
that ye'll meet yer brother agin, when them pearly gates are opened. I
was jist a-thinkin' how once I uster laugh at the idea of a future
life. Says I to meself, an' to others, 'This life is enough fer me, so
I'll have a good time now.' But as I growed older I began to see, an'
it all come gradual like, that this life is only a trail after all.
Now, ye see, we have nothin' but trails here, an' purty tough ones at
that. By an' by thar'll be roads, an' then when them cities git built
thar'll be paved streets. Then when us old pioneers walk on them fine,
level highways we'll think of the time when only trails ran here, an'
we'll be mighty proud to tell others that we've roughed it a bit. So,
lassie, when mushin' over a hard trail, I says to meself that it's jist
like life. Some day thar'll be the Holy City we read about, whar the
streets are paved with gold, an' if we are to enjoy them thar we must
be willin' fust to tramp the trails down here awhile. I know that
larned men would laugh at this idea of mine, but I tell ye it's been a
heap of comfort to me in my lonely life. But the parson'll tell ye all
about it some day better'n I kin."

"So you think he will come back again?" asked Constance eagerly.

"Come back? Certainly he'll come back. He ain't made of sugar an'
water. He'll not desart his flock long fer a pack of wicked fools. He
knows the good Lord's with 'im, an'll not let his wark be ruined. I
reckon that even now he's a-doin' his Master's will somewhar out on
them mountains."

"I wonder much why he didn't tell us about Kenneth's death. Was there
a reason?"

"Thar was, lassie. Ye was in a big trouble when he fust met ye, an' he
kept it from yez both fer fear it would be too much to bear. He did it
fer kindness sake, an' wished to wait till things settled down a bit."

"Are you sure that was his reason?"

"Sartin. Didn't he tell me so when we talked the matter over togeth