over the political situation, but I cannot think
our people are going to fight and kill each other, as
Colonel Clayton predicts they will before another
year has passed."

Oliver's heart bounded like a loosened balloon as
he laid down his mother's letter and began pacing the
room. Neither the political outlook, nor club discussions,
nor even his mother's hopes and fears, concerned
him. It was the sudden loosening of all his
bonds that thrilled him. Four months to do as he
pleased in; the dreadful mortgage out of the way for
six months; his mother willing, and he with money
enough in his pocket to pay his way without calling
upon her for a penny! Was there ever such luck!
All care rolled from his shoulders--even the desire
to see his mother and Sue and those whom he loved
at home was forgotten in the rosy prospect before
him.

The next day he told Mr. Slade of his plans, and
read him part of his mother's letter.

"Very sensible woman, your mother," his employer
answered, with his bluff heartiness. "Just
the thing for you to do; and I've got the very spot.
Go to Ezra Pollard's. He lives up in the mountains
at a little place called East Branch, on the
edge of a wilderness. I fish there every spring, and
I'll give you a letter to him."