id not know, he
seemed so easy-going, so careless--almost sweet, like a woman; but then
I had seen his face once with a look that I could never forget.

"Wal, Ken, I'll dodge Greaser if he ever crosses my trail again."

That promise was a relief. I knew Greaser would come to a bad end, and
certainly would get his just deserts; but I did not want him punished
any more for what he had done to me.

Those last few hours sped like winged moments. We talked and planned a
little, I divided my outfit among my friends, and then it was time for
the train. That limited train had been late, so they said, every day for
a week, and this day it was on time to the minute. I had no luck.

My friends bade me good-bye as if they expected to see me next day, and
I said good-bye calmly. I had my part to play. My short stay with them
had made me somehow different. But my coolness was deceitful. Dick
helped me on the train and wrung my hand again.

"Good-bye, Ken. It's been great to have you out.... Next year you'll be
back in the forests!"

He had to hurry to get off. The train started as I looked out of my
window. There stood the powerful hunter, his white head bare, and he was
waving his hat. Jim leaned against a railing with his sleepy, careless
smile. I caught a gleam of the blue gun swinging at his hip. Dick's eyes
shone warm and blue; he was shouting something. Then they all passed
back out of sight. So my gaze wandered to the indistinct black line
of Penetier, to the purple slopes, and up to the cold, white
mountain-peaks, and Dick's voice rang in my ears like a prophecy:
"You'll be back in the forests."

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