doing, to the lonely graves under the big poplar back in the
mountains.

When he reached the top of the slope, he saw a rolling country of low
hills stretching out before him, greening with spring; with far
stretches of thick grass and many woodlands under a long, low sky, and
he wondered if this was the Bluegrass. But he "reckoned" not--not yet.
And yet he looked in wonder at the green slopes, and the woods, and the
flashing creek, and nowhere in front of him--wonder of all--could he
see a mountain. It was as Caleb Hazel had told him, only Chad was not
looking for any such mysterious joy as thrilled his sensitive soul.
There had been a light sprinkle of snow--such a fall as may come even
in early April--but the noon sun had let the wheat-fields and the
pastures blossom through it, and had swept it from the gray moist pike
until now there were patches of white only in gully and along north
hill-sides under little groups of pines and in the woods, where the
sunlight could not reach; and Chad trudged sturdily on in spite of his
heavy rifle and his lame foot, keenly alive to the new sights and
sounds and smells of the new world--on until the shadows lengthened and
the air chilled again; on, until the sun began to sink close to the
far-away haze of the horizon. Never had the horizon looked so far away.
His foot began to hurt, and on the top of a hill he had to stop and sit
down for a while in the road, the pain was so keen. The sun was setting
now in a glory of gold, rose, pink, and crimson over him, the still
clouds caught the divine light which swept swiftly through the heavens
until the little pink clouds over the east, too, turned golden pink and
the whole heavens were suffused with green and gold. In the west, cloud
was piled on cloud like vast cathedrals that must have been built for
worship on the way straight to the very throne of God. And Chad sat
thrilled, as he had been at the sunrise on the mountains the morning
after he ran away. There was no storm, but the same loneliness came to
him now and he wondered what he should do. He could not get much
farther that night--his foot hurt too badly. He looked up--the clouds
had turned to ashes and the air was growing chill--and he got to his
feet and started on. At the bottom of the hill and down a little creek
he saw a light and he turned toward it. The house was small, and he
could hear the crying of a child inside and could see a tall man
cutting wood, so he stopped a