sional twinges of homesickness; but everything about him was so new
and strange, and so full of interest, that it left him no opportunity to
mourn for his former life, save when the memory of his mother and of his
loss of her came fresh upon him, to bring him an hour of keen sorrow.
And now, as the weeks went on, although he never forgot her, still he
learned to turn to his aunt for a sympathy and guidance which in a
measure replaced the love that his mother had lavished upon him; while,
on her side, Mrs. Burnam soon came to look on him quite as her own boy,
and daily rejoiced in the close intimacy which had sprung up between
Charlie and his cousins.

The time had been as busy as it was happy. In the absence of any good
schools in the camp, Howard and the Everett boys studied under the
supervision of Mr. Nelson, who gave up his mornings to them; and Charlie
had joined them the week after he reached Blue Creek. Marjorie and
Allie, too, went every morning to have a few simple lessons from the
widow of one of Mr. Everett's former clerks,--a gentle, low-voiced
Southern woman who, left alone to make her own way in this new country,
was glad to help support herself by taking occasional private pupils.
Accordingly, at a little before nine o'clock every morning, the
procession of six formed in front of the Everetts and marched down the
street for half a mile, where they separated, to go to their different
tutors for three or four hours of work.

The unvarying program of the morning was followed by a hasty lunch; and,
after that, there were few afternoons when the children did not meet.
There were rare hours on the ice, when the skating was good; there was
coasting such as Charlie had never dreamed of before, for in a country
where all the land stood up on edge, as Grant expressed it, and where
fences were unknown, it was easy to find the long, smooth slopes which
are the delight of every owner of a good sled. Best of all, to Charlie's
mind, were the long afternoons of running on snow-shoes, when they
explored the canon far to the north and south, or penetrated the deep,
narrow gulch at the west of the camp. This last sport was especially
delightful to the boy, for it gave him a wild sense of exhilaration to
go sliding and scuffling along over three or four feet of snow, or coast
lazily down the tiny hillocks in his path; and, under the instructions
of his cousins, he quickly became skilled in the use of his runners,
until he c