along the trail they made. Do you know
Richard's out there at the end of the line--nearly?"

"He would be likely to be. Roving boy! What's he doing there?"

"Poor boy! He almost died in that terrible southern prison. He was the
mere shadow of himself when he came home," said Hester.

"The young men of the present day have little use for beaten paths and
safe ways. I offered him a position in the bank, but no--he must go to
Scotland first to make the acquaintance of our aunts. If he had been
satisfied with that! But no, again, he must go to Ireland on a fool's
errand to learn something of his father." The Elder paused and bit his
lip, and a vein stood out on his forehead. "He's never seen fit to
write me of late."

"Of course such a big scheme as this road across the plains would
appeal to a man like Richard. He's doing very well, father. I wouldn't
be disturbed about him."

"Humph! I might as well be disturbed about the course of the Wisconsin
River. I might as well worry over the rush of a cataract. The lad has
no stability."

"He never fails to write to me, and I must say that he was considered
the most dependable man in the regiment."

"What is he doing? I should like to see the boy again." Hester looked
across at her son with a warm, loving light in her eyes.

"I don't know exactly, but it's something worth while, and calls for
lots of energy. He says they are striking out into the dust and alkali
now--right into the desert."

"And doesn't he say a word about when he is coming back?"

"Not a word, mother. He really has no home, you know. He says Scotland
has no opening for him, and he has no one to depend on but himself."

"He has relatives who are fairly well to do in Ireland."

The Elder frowned. "So I've heard, and my aunts in Scotland talked of
making him their heir, when I was last there."

"He knows that, father, but he says he's not one to stand round
waiting for two old women to die. He says they're fine, decorous old
ladies, too, who made a lot of him. I warrant they'd hold up their
hands in horror if they knew what a rough life he's leading now."

"How rough, my son? I wish he'd make up his mind to come home."

"There! I told him this is his home; just as much as it is mine. I'll
write him you said that, mother."

"Indeed, yes. Bless the boy!"

The Elder looked at his wife and lifted his brows, a sign that it was
time the meal should close, and she rose instantly. It was her habit
nev