out on
the hills with him all day, helping to cook their meals at the
ranch, or sitting on the porch at the Matthews place when the day
was gone. When the time finally came that he must go, the little
physician said, as he grasped the shepherd's hand, "You're doing
just right, Daniel; just right. Always did; always did. Blast it
all! I would stay, too, but what would Sarah and the girls do?
I'll come again next spring, Daniel, sure, sure, if I'm alive.
Don't worry, no one will ever know. Blast it all! I don't like to
leave you, Daniel. Don't like it at all. But you are right, right,
Daniel."

The old scholar stood in the doorway of his cabin to watch the
wagon as it disappeared in the forest. He heard it rattle across
the creek bottom below the ruined cabin under the bluff. He waited
until from away up on Compton Ridge the sound of wheels came to
him on the breeze that slipped down the mountain side. Still he
waited, listening, listening, until there were only the voices of
the forest and the bleating of the sheep in the corral. Slipping a
book in his pocket, and taking a luncheon for himself and Pete he
opened the corral gate and followed his flock to the hills.

All that summer Pete was the shepherd's constant companion. At
first he seemed not to understand. Frequently he would start off
suddenly for the cave, only to return after a time, with that look
of trouble upon his delicate face. Mr. Howitt tried to help the
boy, and he appeared gradually to realize in part. Once he
startled his old friend by saying quietly, "When are you goin',
Dad?"

"Going where? Where does Pete think Dad is going?"

The boy was lying on his back on the grassy hillside watching the
clouds. He pointed upward, "There, where HE went; up there in the
white hills. Pete knows."

The other looked long at the lad before answering quietly, "Dad
does not know when he will go. But he is ready any time, now."

"Pete says better not wait long, Dad; 'cause Pete he's a goin' an'
course when he goes I've got to go 'long. Do you reckon Dad can
see Pete when he is up there in them white hills? Some folks used
to laugh at Pete when he told about the white hills, the flower
things, the sky things, an' the moonlight things that play in the
mists. An' once a fellow called Pete a fool, an' Young Matt he
whipped him awful. But folks wasn't really to blame, 'cause they
couldn't see 'em. That's what HE said. An' HE knew, 'cause he
could see 'em too. But A