have decided for me, and right----every time! We are of
the woods, Bel, born and reared here as our fathers before
us. What would we of the camp fire, the long trail, the
earthy search, we harvesters of herbs the famous chemists
require, what would we do in a city? And when the sap
is rising, the bass splashing, and the wild geese honking
in the night! We never could endure it, Bel.

``When we delivered that hemlock at the hospital
to-day, did you hear that young doctor talking about his
`lid'? Well up there is ours, old fellow! Just sky and clouds
overhead for us, forest wind in our faces, wild perfume in
our nostrils, muck on our feet, that's the life for us. Our
blood was tainted to begin with, and we've lived here so
long it is now a passion in our hearts. If ever you sentence
us to life in the city, you'll finish both of us, that's
what you'll do! But you won't, will you? You realize
what God made us for and what He made for us, don't
you, Bel?''

As he lovingly patted the dog's head the man talked and
the animal trembled with delight. Then the voice of the
Harvester changed and dropped to tones of gravest
import.

``Now how about that other matter, Bel? You always
decide that too. The time has come again. Steady now!
This is far more important than the other. Just to be
wiped out, Bel, pouf! That isn't anything and it concerns
no one save ourselves. But to bring misery into