of sheltered England, half-forgotten music, the voices of friends who
no longer remembered him, and the smiles in a girl's bright eyes. Then
he settled himself more firmly in the driving seat, and with numbed
fingers sought a tighter grip of the reins as the memory of the girl's
soft answer to a question he had asked brought his callow ambitions
back.

He was to hew his way to fortune in the West, and then come back for
her, but the girl who had clung to him with wet cheeks when he left her
had apparently grown tired of waiting, and Winston sent back her
letters in return for a silver-printed card. That was six years ago,
and now none of the dollars he had brought into the country remained to
him. He realized, dispassionately and without egotism, that this was
through no fault of his, for he knew that better men had been crushed
and beaten.

It was, however, time he had done with these reflections, for while he
sat half-dazed and more than half-frozen the miles had been flitting
by, and now the team knew they were not very far from home. Little by
little their pace increased, and Winston was almost astonished to see
another bluff black against the night ahead of him. As usual in that
country, the willows and birches crawled up the sides and just showed
their heads above the sinuous crest of a river hollow. It was very
dark when the wagon lurched in among them, and it cost the man an
effort to discern the winding trail which led down into the blackness
of the hollow. In places the slope was almost precipitous, and it
behooved him to be careful of the horses, which could not be replaced.
Without them he could not plow in spring, and his life did not appear
of any especial value in comparison with theirs just then.