pie was one of Dale's few regrets while up in the lonely
forest.

"How's old Al Auchincloss?" presently inquired Dale.

"Poorly -- poorly," sighed Mrs. Cass. "But he tramps an'
rides around same as ever. Al's not long for this world. . .
. An', Milt, that reminds me -- there's the biggest news you
ever heard."

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Dale, to encourage the excited
old woman.

"Al has sent back to Saint Joe for his niece, Helen Rayner.
She's to inherit all his property. We've heard much of her
-- a purty lass, they say. . . . Now, Milt Dale, here's your
chance. Stay out of the woods an' go to work. . . . You can
marry that girl!"

"No chance for me, Auntie," replied Dale, smiling.

The old woman snorted. "Much you know! Any girl would have
you, Milt Dale, if you'd only throw a kerchief."

"Me! . . . An' why, Auntie?" he queried, half amused, half
thoughtful. When he got back to civilization he always had
to adjust his thoughts to the ideas of people.

"Why? I declare, Milt, you live so in the woods you're like
a boy of ten -- an' then sometimes as old as the hills. . .