Waldo hastened to fetch the animal; but he returned leading it slowly. The
sooner it came the sooner would its rider be gone.

The stranger was opening his saddlebag, in which were a bright French novel
and an old brown volume. He took the last and held it out to the boy.

"It may be of some help to you," he said, carelessly. "It was a gospel to
me when I first fell on it. You must not expect too much; but it may give
you a centre round which to hang your ideas, instead of letting them lie
about in a confusion that makes the head ache. We of this generation are
not destined to eat and be satisfied as our fathers were; we must be
content to go hungry."

He smiled his automaton smile, and rebuttoned the bag. Waldo thrust the
book into his breast, and while he saddled the horse the stranger made
inquiries as to the nature of the road and the distance to the next farm.

When the bags were fixed, Waldo took up his wooden post and began to fasten
it on to the saddle, tying it with the little blue cotton handkerchief from
his neck. The stranger looked on in silence. When it was done the boy
held the stirrup for him to mount.

"What is your name?" he inquired, ungloving his right hand when he was in
the saddle.

The boy replied:

"Well, I trust we shall meet again some day, sooner or later."