woman, and child, concerned in this difficulty: so that'll be no place
for you. You must go right on to the _Massassippi_, and enter lands
enough for us all. Enter them in Kate's name, and they'll be secure. As
soon as you've fixed that business, write on, say where you are, and
we'll be down upon you, bag and baggage, in no time and less."

"Oh, dear father--this is so good of you!"

"Pshaw, get away, minx! I don't like kisses _jest_ after supper; it
takes the taste all out of my mouth of what I've been eating."

Forrester was loud in his acknowledgments, and sought by eulogistic
professions to do away the ill effect of all that he might have uttered
in the previous conversation; but the old man cut him short with his
wonted querulousness:--

"Oh, done with your blarney, boy! 'It's all my eye and Betty Martin!'
Won't you go in and take supper? There's something left, I reckon."

But Forrester had now no idea of eating, and declined accordingly,
alleging his determination to set off immediately upon his route--a
determination which the old man highly approved of.

"You are right, Mark--move's the word, and the sooner you go about it
the better. Here's my hand on your bargain, and good-by--I reckon you'll
have something more to say to Kate, and I suppose you don't want me to
help you in saying it--so I leave you. She's used to the way; and, if
she's at all afraid, you can easily see her home."

With a few more words the old man took his departure, leaving the young
people as happy now as he had before found them sad and sorrowful. They
did not doubt that the reason of this change was as he alleged it, and
gave themselves no thought as to causes, satisfied as they were with
effects. But old Allen had not proceeded without his host: he had been
advised of the contemplated turn-out of all the squatters from the
gold-region; and, having no better tenure than any of his neighbors, he
very prudently made a merit of necessity, and took his measures as we
have seen. The lovers were satisfied, and their interview now wore,
though at parting, a more sunshiny complexion.

But why prolong a scene admitting of so little variety as that which
describes the sweets, and the strifes, and the sorrows, of mortal love?
We take it there is no reader of novels so little conversant with
matters of this nature as not to know how they begin and how they end;
and, contenting ourselves with separating the parties--an act
hardhearted enough