you, I'll send the nag back fer you, too."

He spoke with manly condescension only to comfort her, but the
eager gladness that leaped pitifully from her eyes so melted him
that he added impulsively: "S'pose you git up behind me an' go
with me right now."

"Mavis ain't goin' now," said the old woman sharply. "You go on
whar you're goin' an' come back fer her."

"All right," said Jason, greatly relieved. "Take keer o'
yourselves."

With a kick he started the old nag and again pulled in.

"An' if you leave afore I git back, Mavis, I'm a-goin' to come
atter you, no matter whar you air--some day."

"Good-by," faltered the little girl, and she watched him ride down
the creek and disappear, and her tears came only when she felt the
old woman's arms around her.

"Don't you mind, honey."

Over ridge and mountain and up and down the rocky beds of streams
jogged Jason's old nag for two days until she carried him to the
top of the wooded ridge whence he looked down on the little
mountain town and the queer buildings of the settlement school.
Half an hour later St. Hilda saw him cross the creek below the
bridge, ride up to the foot-path gate, hitch his old mare, and