rollicking air, keeping time to the creaking of the buggy and the slow
crunching of the horse's feet on the gravel road. Even that failed
him. We were at the crest of the hill; we were turning another bend;
we were in the woods, and through the trees he had a last look at Black
Log. And it's such a little valley, too, that it would hardly seem
worth looking back on when the rich fields of Kishikoquillas roll away
before one! The lone pine on the stone cap of Gander Knob waved its
farewell, and we clattered down the long slope into the great world.

[Illustration: He had a last look back at Black Log.]

"It's all over at last," said Tim, smiling, "and now I am glad I've
come; for Black Log is a good place, but it's so little, after all."

"I'm afraid you will find it bigger than a desk in Western's office,
and a tiny room on a cramped city street," said I.

My brother recovered his old spirit and refused to be discouraged by my
pessimistic view of his expedition. He laughed gayly and pointed
across the country where half a dozen spires of smoke were rising.
There was the railroad. There was the great highway where his real
journey was to start. There was the beginning of his great adventure.
I was the last outpost of the friendly land, and he was going into the
unknown. There we were to part! It was my turn to whistle and to
watch the wheels as, mile by mile, they measured off the road to that
last bend, where I should see no more of Tim.

* * * * * *

There was something strange in my brother's resolve to leave Six Stars