thereby to his first-hand stock of labor-knowledge, made a firm friend
of Governor Hunt,--he was especially interested in his prison
policy,--and in those few weeks was the richer by one more of the really
intimate friendships one counts on to the last--Will Scarlett.

He wrote, on Carl's death, "What a horrible, hideous loss! Any of us
could so easily have been spared; that he, who was of such value, had to
go seems such an utter waste. . . . He was one of that very, very small
circle of men, whom, in the course of our lives, we come _really_ to
love. His friendship meant so much--though I heard but infrequently from
him, there was the satisfaction of a deep friendship that was _always
there_ and _always the same_. He would have gone so far! I have looked
forward to a great career for him, and had such pride in him. It's too
hideous!"




CHAPTER X


In January, 1915, Carl took up his teaching again in real earnest,
commuting to Alamo every night. I would have the boys in bed and the
little supper all ready by the fire; then I would prowl down the road
with my electric torch, to meet him coming home; he would signal in the
distance with his torch, and I with mine. Then the walk back together,
sometimes ankle-deep in mud; then supper, making the toast over the
coals, and an evening absolutely to ourselves. And never in all our
lives did we ask for more joy than that.