buck."

[Illustration: "_The Lad began to play._"]

At this instant the Lad dropped the bow upon the strings. Strong and
round, mellow and sweet, the note swelled forth. Starting with the least
filament of sound, it wove itself into a compact chord of sonorous
resonance; filled the great parlors; passed through the doorway into the
receptive stillness outside; charged it with throbbings--thus held the
air a moment; reigned in it--then, calling its powers back to itself,
drew in its vibrating tones; checked its undulating force; and leaving
the air by easy retirement, came back like a bird to its nest and died
away within the recesses of the dark, melodious shell from whence it
started.

When the bow first began its course across the strings the old Trapper's
eyes were on it; and as the note grew and swelled he seemed to grow with
it. His great fingers shut into their palms as if an unseen power was
pulling at the chords. His breast heaved. His mouth actually opened. It
was as if the rising, swelling, pulsating sounds actually lifted him
from off the floor on which he stood, and when the magnificent note
ebbed and finally died away within the violin, not only he, but all the
company stood breathless: charmed, surprised, astonished into silence at
the wondrous note they had heard.

The old Trapper was the first to move. He brought his brawny hand down
heavily upon Herbert's shoulder, and, with a face actually on fire with
the fervor stirred within him, exclaimed:

"Lord-a-massy! Henry, did ye ever hear a noise like that? I say, boy,