life, and finally entered upon that ambiguous condition that precedes
early manhood.

It was a clear, cold winter's day. The sunbeams of summer were long
past, and snowflakes had fallen thickly on the banks of Red River.
Charley sat on a lump of blue ice, his head drooping and his eyes
bent on the snow at his feet with an expression of deep
disconsolation.

Kate reclined at Charley's side, looking wistfully up in his
expressive face, as if to read the thoughts that were chasing each
other through his mind, like the ever-varying clouds that floated in
the winter sky above. It was quite evident to the most careless
observer that, whatever might be the usual temperaments of the boy
and girl, their present state of mind was not joyous, but on the
contrary, very sad.

"It won't do, sister Kate," said Charley. "I've tried him over and
over again--I've implored, begged, and entreated him to let me go;
but he won't, and I'm determined to run away, so there's an end of
it!"

As Charley gave utterance to this unalterable resolution, he rose
from the bit of blue ice, and taking Kate by the hand, led her over
the frozen river, climbed up the bank on the opposite side--an
operation of some difficulty, owing to the snow, which had been
drifted so deeply during a late storm that the usual track was almost
obliterated--and turning into a path that lost itself among the
willows, they speedily disappeared.