stout stick in one hand, pressed a
gold coin into the blacksmith's palm, which was, however, declined
with such reddening promptness that Demorest as promptly reddened and
apologized. The habits of European travel had been still strong on him,
and he felt a slight patriotic thrill as he said, with a grave smile,
"Thank you, then; and thank you still more for reminding me that I am
among my own 'people,'" and stepped lightly out into the road.

The air was still deliciously cool, but warmer currents from the heated
pines began to alternate with the wind from the summit. He found himself
sometimes walking through a stratum of hot air which seemed to exhale
from the wood itself, while his head and breast were swept by the
mountain breeze. He felt the old intoxication of the balmy-scented
air again, and the five years of care and hopelessness laid upon his
shoulders since he had last breathed its fragrance slipped from them
like a burden. There had been but little change here; perhaps the road
was wider and the dust lay thicker, but the great pines still mounted
in serried ranks on the slopes as before, with no gaps in their unending
files. Here was the spot where the stagecoach had passed them that
eventful morning when they were coming out of their camp-life into the
world of civilization; a little further back, the spot where Jack Hamlin
had forced upon him that grim memento of the attempted robbery of
their cabin, which he had kept ever since. He half smiled again at the
superstitious interest that had made him keep it, with the intention of
some day returning to bury it, with all recollections of the deed, under
the site of the old cabin. As he went on in the vivifying influence of
the air and scene, new life seemed to course through his veins; his step
seemed to grow as elastic as in the old days of their bitter but hopeful
struggle for fortune, when he had gayly returned from his weekly tramp
to Boomville laden with the scant provision procured by their scant
earnings and dying credit. Those were the days when HER living image
still inspired his heart with faith and hope; when everything was yet
possible to youth and love, and before the irony of fate had given
him fortune with one hand only to withdraw HER with the other. It
was strange and cruel that coming back from his quest of rest and
forgetfulness he should find only these youthful and sanguine dreams
revive with his reviving vigor. He walked on more hurriedly