ve way to their sorrow and anxiety. Not a trace
of either emotion, however, was to be seen in the face of Daniel Boone
when at last the leader turned away from the place of burial.

Later in the day Peleg chanced upon the scout when the latter believed
himself to be alone. Seated upon a log looking steadily upon the ground,
still without a cry, the man's frame was shaken in his agony of grief.
Abashed by the discovery, Peleg, whose sorrow at the loss of his friend
also had been keen, stealthily withdrew from the place and did not refer
to his discovery when later he joined his companions. Before the scout
returned, the boy had decided that at his first opportunity he would
explain to him how strong had been the friendship between himself and
James. Peleg was too modest to believe that the great man had ever been
aware of the friendship between the two boys. Such matters were of too
minor importance for him even to recognize, much less to remember,
thought the lad.

Great then was the young hunter's surprise, and greater still his
pleasure, when the scout stopped by his side the next day and, looking
into his face, said calmly, "Peleg, you and James were great friends."

"Yes, sir."

"Hereafter I shall have a special love for you, Peleg, because you loved
my boy."

Tears, which the young hunter was unable to control, sprang into his
eyes at the words which were evidence not only of the keen observation
of Daniel Boone but also of his regard for one who had been the friend
of his son. Still the scout's voice was quiet and calm. Peleg was
convinced that he was not unaware of his inability to reply. "It is one
of the things, Peleg, which cannot be changed," continued Daniel Boone.
"James was a good son and I looked forward to a useful life for him, but
he is not to be here. It does no one any good to rebel uselessly, and
only children and savages complain when everything they desire is not
arranged as they wish."

"Yes, sir," assented Peleg. At first he suspected that the words of the
leader were intended as a rebuke to him for the display of his feelings.
Perhaps it was a weakness, he thought, and yet, somehow, the young
soldier was convinced that the father of his friend perhaps did not
think any the less of him because he had been deeply moved by the tragic
death of James Boone.

"It is not the first time," continued the scout, "that I have been
compelled to face sorrow. Somehow I feel that one is like a leaf car