"Well, that's what I like. I like a young man whose mind is open to
conviction."

The boy was not a conversational success. He evidently did not enter
into the spirit of the artist's remarks. He said most people got off at
that point and walked to warm up, and asked Trenton if he would not like
to follow their example.

"No, my boy," said the Englishman, "I don't think I shall. You see, I
have paid for this ride, and I want to get all I can out of it. I shall
shiver here and try to get the worth of my money. But with you it is
different. If you want to get down, do so. I will drive."

The boy willingly handed over the reins, and sprang out on the road.
Trenton, who was a boy himself that morning, at once whipped up the
horse and dashed down the hill to get away from the driver. When a good
half-mile had been worried out of the astonished animal, Trenton looked
back to see the driver come panting after. The young man was calmly
sitting on the back part of the buckboard, and when the horse began to
walk again, the boy slid off, and, without a smile on his face, trotted
along at the side.

"That fellow has evidently a quiet sense of humour, although he is so
careful not to show it," said Trenton to himself.

On reaching the hilltop, they caught a glimpse of the rim of the sun
rising gloriously over the treetops on the other side of the St. Maurice
River. Trenton stopped the horse, and the boy looked up to see what was
wrong. He could not imagine any one stopping merely to look at the sun.