ver get hungry," I asked, "for what's beyond the horizon?"

He sighed with sheer relief, then turned, his eyes seeing infinite
distances. "Why, yes! That country beyond the sky-line's always calling.
Thar's something I want away off, and I don't know what I want."

"That land beyond the sky-line's called romance."

He clenched his teeth. "What does a ship want when she strains at
anchor? What she wants is drift. And I'm at anchor because I've sworn
off drift."

At that we parted, and I went slowly homeward, up to my anchor. Dear
God! If I might drift!

CHAPTER II

THE TREVOR ACCIDENT

N.B.--Mr. Smith, while living alone, had a habit of writing long letters
to his mother. After his mother's death the habit continued, but as the
letters could not be sent by mail, and to post them in the stove seemed
to suggest unpleasant ideas, they were stowed in his saddle wallets.

Dear Mother in Heaven:

There's been good money in this here packing contract, and the wad in my
belt-pouch has been growing till Doctor McGee suspecks a tumor. He
thinks I'll let him operate, and sure enough that would reduce the
swelling.

Once a week I take my little pack outfit up to the Sky-line claim for a
load of peacock copper. It runs three hundred dollars to the ton in horn
silver, and looks more like jewels than mineral. Iron Dale's cook, Mrs.
Jubbin, runs to more species of pies and cake than even Hundred Mile
House, and after dinner I get a rim-fire cigar which pops like a
cracker, while I sit in front of the scenery and taste the breath of the
snow mountains. Then I load the ponies, collects Mick out of the cook
house, which he's partial to for bones, Iron slings me the mail-pouch,
and I hits the trail. I aim to make good bush grass in the yellow pines
by dusk, and the second day brings me down to Brown's Ferry, three miles
short of my home. From the ferry there's a good road in winter to
Hundred Mile House, so I tote the cargoes over there by sleigh. There my
contract ends, because Tearful George takes on with his string team down
to the railroad. I'd have that contract, too, only Tearful is a
low-lived sort of person, which can feed for a dollar a week, whereas
when I get down to the railroad, I'm more expensive.

Did you hear tell of the Cock and Bull Ranch? Seeing it's run by a
missionary you may have the news in Heaven. This man starts a stock
ranch with a bull and cow, a billy-goat and nanny-goat, a rooster and
hen