beg your pardon, sir. I
thought--" He hesitated, as he again took in the rude dress of the
other. The brown eyes, under their white shaggy brows, lighted
with good nature. "You mean, young sir, that you did not think.
'Tis the privilege of youth; make the most of it. Very soon old
age will rob you of your freedom, and force you to think, whether
you will or no. Your greeting under the circumstance is surely
excusable. It is I who should beg pardon, for I have interrupted
your study, and I have no excuse; neither my youth nor my
occupation will plead for me."

The charm of his voice and manner were irresistible. The painter
stepped forward with outstretched hand, "Indeed, sir; I am
delighted to meet you. I am here for the summer from Chicago. My
camp is over there."

The other grasped the offered hand cordially, "I am Daniel Howitt,
young sir; from the sheep ranch in Mutton Hollow. Dad Howitt, the
people call me. So you see you were not far wrong when you hailed
me 'Uncle.' Uncle and Dad are 'sure close kin,' as Preachin' Bill
would say."

Both men laughed, and the painter offered his folding easel chair.
"Thank you, no. Here is a couch to which I am more accustomed. I
will rest here, if you please." The old man stretched himself upon
the grassy slope. "Do you like my hills?" he asked. "But I am sure
you do," he added, as his eye dwelt fondly upon the landscape.

"Ah, you are the owner of this land, then? I was wondering who--"

"No, no, young sir," the old man interrupted, laughing again.
"Others pay the taxes; these hills belong to me only as they
belong to all who have the grace to love them. They will give you
great treasure, that you may give again to others, who have not
your good strength to escape from the things that men make and do
in the restless world over there. One of your noble craft could
scarcely fail to find the good things God has written on this page
of His great book. Your brothers need the truths that you will
read here; unless the world has greatly changed."

"You are not then a native of this country?"

"I was a native of that world yonder, young sir. Before your day,
they knew me; but long since, they have forgotten. When I died
there, I was born again in these mountains. And so," he finished
with a smile, "I am, as you see, a native. It is long now since I
met one from beyond the ridges. I will not likely meet another."

"I wonder that others have not discovered the real beauty of th