y dreamed of great white
doors that opened on wondrous green parks.

One morning when Cora called the men to breakfast Mose and Jim did not
respond. A scrawl from Mose said: "We've gone to the mountains. I'll be
back in the spring. Keep my outfit for me, and don't worry."

PART II

CHAPTER XII

THE YOUNG EAGLE FLUTTERS THE DOVE-COTE

The little town of Marmion was built on the high, grassy, parklike bank
of the Cedar River; at least, the main part of the residences and stores
stood on the upper level, while below, beside the roaring water, only a
couple of mills and some miserable shacks straggled along a road which
ran close to the sheer walls of water-worn limestone.

The town was considered "picturesque" by citizens of the smaller farm
villages standing bleakly where the prairie lanes intersected. To be
able to live in Marmion was held to be eminent good fortune by the
people roundabout, and the notion was worth working for. "If things turn
out well we will buy a lot in Marmion and build a house there," husbands
occasionally said to their wives and daughters, to console them for the
mud, or dirt, or heat, or cold of the farm life. One by one some of
those who had come into the country early, and whose land had grown
steadily in value as population increased, were able to rent their farms
to advantage and "move into town." Thus the streets gradually lengthened
out into the lanes, and brick blocks slowly replaced the battlemented
wooden stores of earlier frontier construction.

To Harold Excell, fresh from the wide spaces of the plains, the town
appeared smothered in leaves, and the air was oppressively stagnant. He
came into the railway station early one July morning, tired and dusty,
with a ride of two days and a night in an ordinary coach. As he walked
slowly up the street toward the center of the sleeping village, the odor
of ripe grain and the familiar smell of poplar and maple trees went to
his heart. His blood leaped with remembered joys. Under such trees, in
the midst of such fragrance, he had once walked with his sister and with
Jack. His heart swelled with the thought of the Burns' farm, and the
hearty greeting they would give him could he but ride up to the door.

And Mary! How would she seem to him now? Four years was a long time at
that period of a girl's life, but he was certain he would recognize her.
He had not written to her of his coming, for he wished to announce
himself. There were