poorly clad and gaunt and gray. She
stood motionless watching him with a look of sullen bitterness. She was the
last of "the Elkinses," a mountain family run to seed. As he rode away he
saw in the field a boy with a pitchfork in his hands, a meager ragged
little chap. He was staring into the valley at a wriggling, blue smoke
serpent made by the night express to New York. And something leaped in
Roger, for he had once felt just like that! But the woman's harsh voice cut
in on his dream, as she shouted to her son below, "Hey! Why the hell you
standin' thar?" And the boy with a jump of alarm turned back quickly to his
work. At home a few days later, George with a mysterious air took his
grandfather into the barn, and after a pledge of secrecy he said in swift
and thrilling tones, "You know young Bill Elkins? Yes, you do--the boy up
on the Elkins place who lives alone with his mother. Well, look here!"
George swallowed hard. "Bill has cleared out--he's run away! I was up at
five this morning and he came hiking down the road! He had a bundle on his
back and he told me he was off for good! And was he scared? You bet he was
scared! And I told him so and it made him mad! 'Aw, you're scared!' I said.
'I ain't neither!' he said. He could barely talk, but the kid had his
nerve! 'Where you going?' I asked. 'To New York,' he said. 'Aw, what do you
know of New York?' I said. And then, by golly, he busted right down. 'Gee!'
he said, 'Gee! Can't you lemme alone?' And then he beat it down the road!
You could hear the kid breathe, he was hustling so! He's way off now, he's
caught the train! He wants to be a cabin boy on a big ocean liner!" For a
moment there was silence. "Well?" the boy demanded, "What do you think of
his chances?"

"I don't know," said Roger huskily. He felt a tightening at his throat.
Abruptly he turned to his grandson.

"George," he asked, "what do _you_ want to be?" The boy flushed under his
freckles.

"I don't know as I know. I'm thinking," he answered very slowly.

"Talk it over with your mother, son."

"Yes, sir," came the prompt reply. "But he won't," reflected Roger.

"Or if you ever feel you want to, have a good long talk with me."

"Yes, sir," was the answer. Roger stood there waiting, then turned and
walked slowly out of the barn. How these children grew up inside of
themselves. Had boys always grown like that? Well, perhaps, but how strange
it was. Always new lives, lives of their own, the old families