pipe a-going.

"Now, dad, you had better go along and make your call, while I get
things together here."

"What! You not going! No, no, that won't do, my boy. It was about you
they were concerned. You were the occasion of the acquaintanceship.
Besides, meeting in the wilderness this way we can't do that sort of
thing, you know."

"Well, dad, frankly, I am quite terrified of the young lady. Suppose she
should start bossing us. We should both be quite helpless."

"Oh, nonsense, boy! Come along. Get your hat."

"All right, I'll come. On your head be the consequences, dad. No. I
don't need a hat. Fortunately I put on a clean shirt. Will I do, dad?
You know I'm 'scairt stiff,' as Harry Hobbs would say."

His father looked him over, but there was nothing critical in his
glance. Pride and love filled his eyes as they ran over his son's face
and figure. And small wonder! The youth was good to look upon. A shade
under six feet he stood, straight and slim, strength and supple grace
in every move of his body. His face was beautiful with the beauty of
features, clean cut and strong, but more with the beauty of a clear,
candid soul. He seemed to radiate an atmosphere of cheery good nature
and unspoiled simplicity. He was two years past his majority, yet
he carried the air of a youth of eighteen, in which shyness and
fearlessness looked out from his deep blue eyes. It was well that he
wore no hat to hide the mass of rich brown hair that waved back from his