“Yes, I have thought of that. And lately—I don’t know why—the thought has grown upon me that my poor mother may be lonely and pining for her prodigal son. I cannot get rid of that thought. It haunts me day and night. That is why I have made up my mind to go home and make friends with my mother.” “As if she ivir was anything else but frinds wi’ ye, Sam, darlint!” broke in Mike. He had stopped calling his comrade “Misther Longman.” “I didn’t mean that exactly. I meant to make it all up with her, and to her, if I could. To give her all the money I have saved, to make her comfortable for life; and then come back to the free woods and the free game.” “Less ye could win to a keeper’s place in the owld counthry,” put in Mike. “Yes; but that’s a dream,” laughed Longman. “Aven so, it’s a dhrame that may kem as thrue as me own swishter Judy’s dhrame about her swateharrt that brought her all through the Black Woods to find him at last.” “I don’t in the least see how my dream—which was not even a dream, but a passing thought of a bare possibility—can come true,” laughed Longman. “Then I’ll tell you!” exclaimed Mike. “Ye know Ran, whose life ye saved?” “Why, of course!” exclaimed Longman in surprise at the vain question. “Well, I only wanted to mind ye of him. Ye know he has kum into a great estate?” “Of course, I have heard that, too.” “Very well, thin. He’s going to live on it. And if ye be in England, and wanting av a keeper’s place, what more natural than Misther Hay should pit you over his own kivvirs? You thet saved his life!” “But, of course, the estate has a gamekeeper already.” “Tare an’ ’ounds, man, and supposin’ an’ if it has! Misther Hay wud kape two keepers before he’d lave you out’n the cold!” indignantly exclaimed Mike. “I know he would do all he possibly could for any of us. But it is time enough to think of all that when we get to England,” said Longman. “And are you bent on going, Mr. Longman?” inquired Andrew Quin. “‘Bent on’ it, Dandy? I can’t help it. Something is drawing me. I feel it all the time.” “On a visit?” “On a visit for the present.” “Then I go with you, sir, and come back with you, if I feel like it—though it is giving up the chance of a grand future.” “But it is making reasonably sure of enjoying the rest of your days, Dandy.” “Well, mates, if you’ll both be laving, it’s meself that will go wid you. The ould fort will be right on our road, and I can shtop there to see me swishter Judy, and then I’ll go back to Grizzly. Grizzly ain’t no great shakes; but for a steady-going old mining camp, that will nivir promise to mek a man a millingnaire, nor yet starve him to death, but sorter keep him a-going on fair hopes and fair profits, why, thin, give me ould Grizzly!” “Good for you, Mike, my bold boy! We shall be glad to have your company, even as far as the fort, if no further,” said Longman, clapping his young comrade on the shoulder.