"You are going over the mountain, Tip?" said I.

"Yes," he answered, throwing open the gate. "This is the last Six
Stars will see of me. I'm done. The missus was a-yammerin' and
a-yammerin' all day yesterday. If it wasn't this, it was that she was
yammerin' about. Says I, 'I'm done. I'm sorry,' says I, 'but I'm
done.' At the first peek of day I starts over the mountain. This is
as fur as I've got. You've kep' me waitin'."

"Me--I've kept you waiting?" I cried. "Do you think I'm going over the
mountain, too?"

"No," said Tip, with a grim chuckle. "You ain't married. You've
nothin' to run from, 'less you've been yammerin' at yourself; then the
mountain won't do you no good. I didn't figure on your company, but
Tim kep' me."

"Is Tim out at this hour?" I asked.

"At this hour?" Tip retorted. "You'll have to get up earlier to catch
him. He's gone--up and gone--he is."

I sat down very abruptly on the door-step. "Tim gone?" I said.

"Gone--and he told me to wait and say good-by to you--to tell you he'd
set late last night for you, till he fell asleep. He was sleepin' when
I come, Mark. I peeped in the window and there he was, in that chair
of yours, fast asleep. I rapped on the window and he woke up with a
jump. He was off on the early train, he said, and had just time to
cover the twelve mile with that three-legged livery horse that brought