!"

"Aye, hear that!" cried Steering appreciatively, "gloriously musical!"
Out of the great green timber mounted the tenor notes, piercingly sweet,
pure, true, like a bird-call:

"_A tater's good 'ith 'lasses._"

Bernique's horse was growing restless. The old man rode a little nearer
Steering and regarded him searchingly. "Good-bye, sair," he said then,
"it shall be what you say. I shall come back to you in Canaan."

"Good-bye, Mr. Bernique. I'm glad to have you decide that way." Steering
clung to his notion that he and Bernique were to know each other better.
They shook hands under the cross-roads sign-post with understanding.

The rain was coming on fast. All the east lay grey behind Steering, all
the west grey before him as he moved away from the cross-roads. But out
of the west rolled the melody of the carolling boy, the voice of one
singing in the wilderness, young and undismayed.

Under the cross-roads sign-post old Bernique sat his horse motionless
for a time, looking after Steering. From Steering his eyes roamed afar
toward the Canaan Tigmores. A little shiver caught him. "The man that
was expect'," he mused, "the man that was expect'!" Then he, too, rode
away.

_Chapter Two_

PINEY OF THE WOODS

Where the ridge road dropped down close to the pale river at a dip in
the hills, Steering overtook the tramp-boy, hallooed to him, and watched
him, as he turned his pony about and sat waitingly. He was a youth of
sixteen or seventeen, and from under the peak of his felt hat, slouched
and old, peered out a slim young gypsy face, crowned by a thick mop of
black hair that tumbled about wide temples. Motionless there, the
tremble of his song still on his lips and the gladness of youth and
health on his face, the tramp-boy made Steering think of the rosy young
shepherd Adonis, he was so glowing, so fine and fresh.

"I have been right after you all the way from the cross-roads,"
explained Steering, by way of a beginning, riding up to the lad's side,
"I have just parted from a friend of yours,--Mr. Bernique,--so you see
we are almost friends ourselves."

"A'most." The boy smiled, showing white teeth. He seemed to like Bruce's
method of dealing with him. "Wuz Unc' Bernique cross because I didn't go
rat back like I said I'd do?" he queried slily.

"No, I think not. And for my part, I am glad you didn't, for I am hoping
that if you are going toward Poetical you won't mind my company. You
see, it's pretty do