ently
nearing the end of their journey. Drawing closer they found that
the light came from the window of a small cabin built partly of
rock and partly of logs.

Instinctively the two men stopped. Pete said in a low tone, as one
would speak in a sacred presence, "HE is there. Come on, Dad.
Come, other man. Don't be scared."

Still the boy's companions hesitated. Mr. Howitt asked, "Who, boy?
who is there? Do you know who it is?"

"No, no, not me. Nobody can't know nothin', can they?"

"Hopeless case, Daniel; hopeless. Too bad, too bad," muttered the
physician, laying his hand upon his friend's shoulder.

The shepherd tried again, "Who does Pete say it is?"

"Oh, Pete says it's him, just him."

"But who does Pete say he is?" suggested Dr. Coughlan.

Again the boy's voice lowered to a whisper, "Sometimes Pete says
it must be God, 'cause he's so good. Dad says God is good an' that
he takes care of folks, an' HE sure does that. 'Twas him that
scared Wash Gibbs an' his crowd that night. An' he sent the gold
to you, Dad; God's gold it was; he's got heaps of it. He killed
that panther, too, when it was a goin' to fight Young Matt. Pete
knows. You see, Dad, when Pete is with him, I ain't nobody no
more. I'm just Pete then, an' Pete is me. Funny, ain't it? But he
says that's the way it is, an' he sure knows."

The two friends listened with breathless interest. "And what does
Pete call him?" asked the doctor.

"Pete calls him father, like Dad calls God. He talks to God, too,
like Dad does. Do you reckon God would talk to God, mister?"

With a cry the shepherd reeled. The doctor caught him. "Strong,
Daniel, strong." Pete drew away from the two men in alarm.

The old scholar's agitation was pitiful. "David, David; tell me,
what is this thing? Can it be--my boy--Howard, my son--can it be?
My God, David, what am I saying? He is dead. Dead, I tell you. Can
the dead come back from the grave, David?" He broke from his
friend and ran staggering toward the cabin; but at the door he
stopped again. It was as if he longed yet feared to enter, and the
doctor and the boy came to his side. Without ceremony Pete pushed
open the door.

The room was furnished with a cupboard, table and small cook
stove. It was evidently a living room. Through a curtained opening
at the right, a light showed from another apartment, and a voice
called, "Is that you, Pete?"

A look of pride came into the face of the lad, "That's me," he
whispered. "