t it," the soldier insisted. "Has something
happened to the three-legged puppy?"

Molly denied the occurrence of any such catastrophe.

"Then you've lost the little shiny rifle that shoots with air?" But
Johnny dispelled this horrible suspicion by drawing the formidable
weapon out of the grass behind him.

"Well, there isn't anything else bad enough to cause all this outlay of
anguish. Can't I help you out?"

"Poleon!" they wailed, in unison.

"Exactly! What about him?"

"He's goin' away!" said Johnny.

"He's goin' away!" echoed Molly.

"Now, that's too bad, of course," the young man assented; "but think
what nice things he'll bring you when he comes back."

"He ain't comin' back!" announced the heir, with the tone that conveys
a sorrow unspeakable.

"He ain't comin' back!" wailed the little girl, and, being a woman,
yielded again to her weakness, unashamed.

Burrell tried to extract a more detailed explanation, but this was as
far as their knowledge ran. So he sought out the Canadian, and found
him with Gale in the store, a scanty pile of food and ammunition on the
counter between them.

"Poleon," said he, "you're not going away?"

"Yes," said Doret. "I'm takin' li'l' trip."

"But when are you coming back?"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Dat's hard t'ing for tellin'. I'm res'less in my heart, so I'm goin'
travel some. I ain' never pass on de back trail yet, so I 'spect I keep
goin'."

"Oh, but you can't!" cried Burrell. "I--I--" He paused awkwardly, while
down the breeze came the lament of the two little Gales. "Well, I feel
just as they do." He motioned in the direction of the sound. "I wanted
you for a friend, Doret; I hate to lose you."

"I ain' never got my satisfy yet, so I'm pass on--all de tam' pass on.
Mebbe dis trip I fin' de place."

"I'm sorry--because--well, I'm a selfish sort of cuss--and--" Burrell
pulled up blushingly, with a strong man's display of shame at his own
emotion. "I owe all my happiness to you, old man. I can't thank
you--neither of us can--we shall never live long enough for that, but
you mustn't go without knowing that I feel more than I'll ever have
words to say."

He was making it very hard for the Frenchman, whose heart was aching
already with a dull, unending pain. Poleon had hoped to get away
quietly; his heart was too heavy to let him face Necia or this man, and
run the risk of their reading his secret, so a plaintive wrinkle
gathered between his eyes t