corral.
Dick's lips were closed tight, and he did not look at me. Evidently
he did not intend to actually put me aboard a train, and the time for
parting had come. He watered his horses at the trough, and fussed over
his pack and fumbled with his saddle-girths. It looked to me as though
he had not the courage to say goodby.

"Ken, it didn't look so bad--so mean till now," he said. "I'm all broken
up.... To get you way out here! Oh! what's the use? I'm mighty sorry
....Good-bye--maybe--

He broke off suddenly, and, wringing my hand, he vaulted into the
saddle. He growled at his pack-pony, and drove him out of the corral.
Then he set off at a steady trot down the street toward the open
country.

It came to me in a flash, as I saw him riding farther and farther away,
that the reason my heart was not broken was because I did not intend to
go home. Dick had taken it for granted that I would board the next train
for the East. But I was not going to do anything of the sort. To my
amaze I found my mind made up on that score. I had no definite plan,
but I was determined to endure almost anything rather than give up my
mustang and outfit.

"It's shift for myself now," I thought, soberly. "I guess I can make
good. ... I'm going back to Penetier."

Even in the moment of impulse I knew how foolish this would be. But I
could not help it. That forest had bewitched me. I meant to go back to
it.

"I'll stay away from the sawmill," I meditated, growing lighter of heart
every minute. "I'll keep out of sight of the lumbermen. I'll go higher
up on the mountain, and hunt, and study the trees.... I'll do it."

Whereupon I marched off at once to a store and bought the supply of
provisions that Buell had decided against when he helped me with my
outfit. This addition made packing the pony more of a problem than ever,
but I contrived to get it all on to my satisfaction. It was nearing
sunset when I rode out of Holston this second time. The sage flat was
bare and gray. Dick had long since reached the pines, and would probably
make camp at the spring where we had stopped for lunch. I certainly did
not want to catch up with him, but as there was small chance of that; it
caused me no concern.

Shortly after sunset twilight fell, and it was night when I reached the
first pine-trees. Still, as the trail was easily to be seen, I kept on,
for I did not want to camp without water. The forest was very dark, in
some places like a huge black ten