"Good-bye, son," said the man; "one of these days you will leave the
mountains and go out into the big world to live a life of usefulness
and honour, I hope."

The words, so simple and commonplace to the man, were to the boy like
a telescope lifted to the unknown heavens, but through which he could
not yet look. He watched the men go down the mountainside, the strange
words which he did not comprehend, but was never to forget, ringing in
his ears. A bit of heavy timber hid them at last, and the boy stood
dejected a moment, his heart swelling with an agony of strange
longing, while the dog looked up at him almost pleading to understand.
Then suddenly, with a cry of hope, Steve sprang after them, the dog
following. Breathless he came upon them, and the man turned in
surprise at the tragic voice and face. When the boy could speak he
panted out:

"I've got the bes' fox skin anywheres hereabout. I'll swap it with you
uns fer that watch thing."

The man suppressed a smile and kindly replied:

"Why, lad, I couldn't do without it for the rest of this hunting trip,
but I tell you what I will do. When I get back to the city I'll send
you one."

"Then ef yer'll come home with me I'll give ye the fox skin now," the
boy responded promptly.

"Oh, never mind about the fox skin now; I must get back to camp before
dark and we are many miles away," said the man.

"But I can't take the watch 'thout you git the skin," said the boy
sturdily.

"Well, now, I'll tell you," said the man, realizing that he had struck
the stubborn, independent pride of a mountaineer. "You give me your
name, tell me where you live and I'll send you the watch; then next
time I'm over here I'll get the skin." The address was a difficult
matter to determine, but the mountaineer helped them out.

This satisfied the boy and he saw the two strangers depart with better
spirit, since he could look forward to the coming of the watch. He did
not understand how it would ever reach him, but trusted the stranger
implicitly. When the last sound of departing feet among the underbrush
had died away, Steve turned and went home with long, rapid strides,
the dog recognizing the relief and following with wagging tail.

He found supper on the table, the savoury bacon and hoe-cake greeting
him from the door. The head of the family, lean, lank and brown, was
already transporting huge mouthfuls from the tin platter to his mouth;
the fat, slovenly daughter sat for a moment