"But we come back--sometime?"

There was no answer.

"Father, we're coming back--sometime?" David's voice was
insistent now.

The man stooped and tightened a strap that was already quite
tight enough. Then he laughed lightly.

"Why, of course you're coming back sometime, David. Only think of
all these things we're leaving!"

When the last dish was put away, the last garment adjusted, and
the last look given to the little room, the travelers picked up
the bag and the violins, and went out into the sweet freshness of
the morning. As he fastened the door the man sighed profoundly;
but David did not notice this. His face was turned toward the
east--always David looked toward the sun.

"Daddy, let's not go, after all! Let's stay here," he cried
ardently, drinking in the beauty of the morning.

"We must go, David. Come, son." And the man led the way across
the green slope to the west.

It was a scarcely perceptible trail, but the man found it, and
followed it with evident confidence. There was only the pause now
and then to steady his none-too-sure step, or to ease the burden
of the bag. Very soon the forest lay all about them, with the