e day,
riding about the northwestern limits of his lands where a foaming brook
kept saying, "Water-power!--good fishing!--good fishing!--water-power!"
He dismounted and leaned against his horse by the brook's Widewood side,
we may say, although just beyond here lay the odd sixty acres by which
Widewood exceeded an even hundred thousand. The stream came down out of
a steeply broken region of jagged rocks, where frequent evergreens and
russet oaks studded the purple gray maze of trees that like to go naked
in winter. But here it shallowed widely and slipped over a long surface
of unbroken bed-rock. On its far side a spring gushed from a rocky
cleft, leapt down some natural steps, ran a few yards, and slid into the
brook. Behind it a red sun shone through the leafless tree-tops. The
still air hinted of frost.

Suddenly his horse listened. In a moment he heard voices, and by an
obscure road up and across the brook two riders came briskly to the
water's edge, splashed into the smooth shallow and let their horses
drink. They were a man and a maid, and the maid was Barbara Garnet. She
was speaking.

"We can't get so far out of the way if we can keep this"--she saw John
March rise into his saddle, caught a breath, and then cried:

"Why, it's Mr. March. Mr. March, we've missed our road!" Her laugh was
anxious. "In fact, we're lost. Oh! Mr. March, Mr. Fair." The young men
shook hands. Fair noted a light rifle and a bunch of squirrels at
March's saddle-bow.

"You've been busier than we."

"Mighty poor sign of industry. I didn't come out for game, but a man's
sure to be sorry if he goes into the woods without a gun. I mean, of
course, Miss Garnet, if he's alone!"

Barbara answered with a smile and a wicked drawl, "You've been enjoying
both ad-van-tag-es. I used to wish I was a squirrel, they're so
en-er-get-ic." She added that she would be satisfied now to remain as
she was if she could only get home safe. She reckoned they could find
the road if Mr. March would tell them how.

John smiled seriously. "Better let me show you." He moved down the
middle of the stream. "This used to be the right road, long time ago.
You know, Mr. Fair"--his voice rang in the trees, "our mountain roads
just take the bed of the nearest creek whenever they can. Our people are
not a very business people. But that's because they've got the rare
virtue of contentment. Now--"

"I don't think they're too contented, Mr. March," said Barbara,
defensiv