the top of the tallest pine on Wolf Ridge, and the long shadows
lay over the valley below. "I'm mighty sorry I let go and cuss,
Dad," finished, the boy. "But I keep a holdin' in, and a holdin'
in, 'til I'm plumb wild; then something happens like that letter,
and I go out on the range and bust. I've often wished you knowed.
Seems like your just knowin' about it will help me to hold on. I
get scared at myself sometimes, Dad, I do, honest."

"I'm glad, too, that you have told me, Grant. It means more to me
than you can guess. I--I had a boy once, you know. He was like
you. He would have come to me this way, if he had lived."

The sheep had begun working toward the lower ground. The shepherd
rose to his feet. "Take them home, Brave. Come on, boys, you must
eat with me at the ranch, to-night." Then the three friends, the
giant mountaineer, the strangely afflicted youth, and the old
scholar went down the mountain side together.

As they disappeared in the timber on the lower level, the bushes,
near which they had been sitting, parted silently, and a man's
head and shoulders appeared from behind a big rook. The man
watched the strange companions out of sight. Then the bushes
swayed together, and the mountain seemed to have swallowed him up.

The three friends had just finished their supper when Pete saw
Sammy entering the ranch clearing. Young Matt caught up his hat.
At the rear door he paused. "I've got to go now, Dad," he said
awkwardly. "I can't see her any more to-day. But if you'll let me,
I'll come again when things get too hot."