ive him, and he submitted
to their caresses with cold dignity. His manner plainly expressed this
feeling: "You are all strangers to me." But he turned to Jack and
gripped his hand hard. "Now for the plains!"

Side by side the father and son passed out into the sunshine. The boy
drew an audible breath, as if in sudden, keen pain. Around him lay the
bare, brown earth of March. The sun was warm and a subtle odor of lately
uncovered sward was in the air. The wind, soft, warm, and steady, blew
from the west. Here and there a patch of grass, faintly green, showed
where sullen snow banks had lately lain. And the sky! Filled with clouds
almost as fleecy and as white as June, the sky covered him, and when he
raised his eyes to it he saw a triangular flock of geese sweeping to
the northwest, serene and apparently effortless.

He could not speak--did not wish to hear any speech but that of Nature,
and the father seemed to comprehend his son's mood, for he, too, walked
in silence.

The people of the village knew that Harold was to return to freedom that
day, and with one excuse or another they came to the doors to see him
pass. Some of them were genuinely sympathetic, and bowed and smiled,
intending to say, "Let by-gones be by-gones," but to their greetings
Harold remained blankly unresponsive. Jack would gladly have walked with
Harold, but out of consideration for the father fell into step behind.

The girls--some of them--had the grace to weep when they saw Harold's
sad face. Others tittered and said: "Ain't he awful pale." For the most
part, the citizens considered his punishment sufficient, and were
disposed to give him another chance. To them, Harold, by his manner,
intended to reply: "I don't want any favors. I won't accept any chance
from you. I despise you and I don't want to see you again."

He looked upon the earth and the sky rather than upon the faces of his
fellows. His natural love of Nature had been intensified by his
captivity, while a bitter contempt and suspicion of all men and women
had grown up in his mind. He entered his father's house with reluctance
and loathing.

The day was one of preparation. Jack had carried out, so far as he well
could, the captive's wishes. His gun, his clothing, and his valise were
ready for him, and Mrs. Excell had washed and ironed all his linen with
scrupulous care. His sister Maud had made a little "housewife" for him,
and filled it with buttons and needles and thread, a gift