ieve, for purposes of conference. It will
save him running through his files.

"I've been on the road for weeks, tramping myself into blessed
weariness at night. More often than not I sleep in the open. I'm
writing this with the aid of a pocket searchlight. Mine host, old
Gaffer Moon, smiles down upon the ashes of my camp fire, full-faced and
silver. An excellent host! Never once has he grumbled about light or
pay and he grants me a roof without question. Ah! it's a blessed old
Tavern of Stars, Garry! Ramshackle enough in all faith, for there are
gaps in the tree-walls and Dame Wind's a-sweeping night and day, but
luckily I've a blanket I carry by day and need by night.

"I've a road-mate. I think in time he'll be my friend, though he isn't
yet. And thereby hangs a tale.

"I camped to-night in a wood by a river and turned in early, feeling
tired. Voices drifted hazily into my slumber after a while and I awoke
to find the moon riding high above the wood. My fire was out, my room
in the Tavern of Stars still carpeted in shadow. Beyond in the
moonlight two people had halted, a boy who was denouncing someone in a
hard and bitter voice and, clinging to his arm, a girl in a cloak, whom
I judged to be his sister. Her eyes were like pools of ink and tragic
with imploring, Laughter would have made her lovely. As it was, with
her lashes wet I could only think of Niobe and a passion of tears. I
have rarely seen in a woman's face so much of the right kind of
sweetness. It was an exquisite vigor of sweetness, not in the least
the kind that cloys.

"They were much alike, save that the boy's face was angry and
rebellious. He was the younger of the two, seventeen or so, and would
have been in rags but for an unbelievable amount of mending.

"When I awoke, he had, I think, been urging his sister to go with him
and she had refused. Before I could even so much as make them aware of
my nearness, things came to a climax. The boy with a curse pushed her
away. The hurt in his heart perhaps had made him rough. But the girl
shrank away from him with a sob and ran back up the hill. He watched
her climb to a hill-farm near the river, with shame and agony in his
eyes, and I thought he would follow. Instead he plunged most
unexpectedly in my direction and finished his tragedy in comedy by
stumbling over me. We both scrambled to our feet a shade resentful.

"He realized instantly that I had overheard and blazed out at