"Yes," was the bitter reply, "I am a man without a home or a name. Some have said that there is trouble with my brain, but they are wrong. I am not deranged. This is the first time in a year that I have sought the society of human beings, unless it was to trade for such things as I need to sustain life. It was those songs that brought me here. They seemed to act like a magnet, and I could not keep away." Then he turned to Frank, and asked him to sing one of the lullabys over again. For all of his peculiar manner, the man seemed sane enough, and the boy decided to humor him. Frank sang, and the man sat and listened, his face still bowed on his hands. When the song was ended, and the last echo had died out along a distant line of bluffs, the man still sat thus. Those who saw him were impressed. Beyond a doubt, this man had suffered some great affliction that had caused him to shun his fellows and become one "without a home or a name." All at once, with a deep sigh, he rose. He was finely built, and, properly dressed and shaved, he must have been handsome. "Thank you," he said, addressing Frank. "I will not trouble you longer. I am going now." "Look yar," broke in Old Rocks, in his harsh way; "I wants ter warn you ag'in comin' round yere ther way you done a short time ago. It ain't healthy none whatever." "What do you mean?" "Jest this: I might take a fancy ter shoot fust an' talk it over arterward. I don't want ter shoot yer." A strange, sad smile came to the man's face. "You need not fear," he said. "If you were to shoot at me, you would not hit me." The guide gave a snort. "Whut's thet?" he cried. "I allow you hain't seen me shoot any to speak of, pard. I ain't in ther habit of missin'." "That makes no difference. A man who seeks death cannot die. Fate would turn your bullet aside." "Wa-al, I don't allow thet I wants ter try it, fer Fate might not be quick enough. Jest you keep away, 'less you hollers out ter let us know when ye're comin'." As the hermit turned away he happened to glance into the tent, the front of which was still open. The firelight shone in and fell on the face of the tired child, who was sleeping sweetly. The man paused, staring at the face revealed by the flickering light. His hand was lifted to his head, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet, his face marked by a look of astonishment and pain. Old Rocks, Professor Scotch, and the boys watched the hermit's every movement with breathless wonderment. They were impressed, they were held spellbound, they scarcely breathed. For some moments the strange man stood there, and then, inch by inch, step by step, he advanced toward the tent. He seemed trying to hold back, yet there appeared to be some power dragging him toward the sleeping child.