stood watching till the bend in the river shut them from view.

"Nice people," said his father. "Very fine, jolly girl."

"Yes, isn't she?" replied his son.

"Handsome, too," said his father, glancing keenly at him.

"Is she? Yes, I think so. Yes, indeed, very," he added, as if pondering
the matter. "When do we move, dad?"

A look of relief crossed the father's face.

"This afternoon, I think. We have only a few days now. We shall run up
Buffalo Creek into the Foothills for some trout. It will be a little
stiff, but you are fit enough now, aren't you, Barry?" His voice was
tinged with anxiety.

"Fit for anything, dad, thanks to you."

"Not to me, Barry. To yourself largely."

"No," said the boy, throwing his arm round his father's shoulder,
"thanks to you, dear old dad,--and to God."



CHAPTER II

ON THE RED PINE TRAIL