It seemed to the men outside that the door was long in opening. “My fingers are all thumbs!” they heard the old man exclaim, after a fruitless effort to withdraw the bolt. “Good-evening!” exclaimed Joseph, in a husky voice. “We are a pair of belated travellers, and seek a night’s lodging. Can we be accommodated?” “We’re not used to keeping travellers,” said the patriarch, “but it is late, and another storm is brewing. Come right in. Wife can fix you a shake-down somewhere, I reckon; and we always have a bite on hand to eat.” “We have two sons of our own out in the world somewhere, father,” said the wife. “I will trust the Lord to do by them as we will do by these strangers.” John Ranger threw back his heavy coat and hat and stood before the pair erect and motionless. “Mother!” he exclaimed, after a moment’s waiting, as he caught her in his arms, “don’t you know your boy?” “Why, bless my soul, it’s our John,—my firstborn baby boy!” faltered the mother, as she resigned herself to his realistic “bear hug.” “I thought you was in Oregon.” “So I was a few weeks ago; but I am here now! How are you, mother dear? And you, father? I am so glad to see you again! How goes the world with both of you?” “All right, son, considering. That is, it’s all right now you are here. We can bear poverty and hardship now. Eh, wife?” “Yes, father. If the Lord sees fit to afflict us, we can now bear it without complaining. Blessed be His holy name! But how did it happen, John dear? I was thinking about you to-night as being far away on this, your forty-third birthday.” “We do things in a hurry on the Pacific coast, mother mine. This is an unexpected visit. But you are neglecting somebody.” “That is so,” exclaimed the old man. “What might your name be, stranger?” The tall man in the shadow took a faltering step forward and removed his hat. “Don’t you know me, father?” “Good God! Can it be possible that this is Joseph?” “Don’t let him deceive us, John!” pleaded the mother. “I couldn’t live and bear it!” “Yes, mother dear, it is indeed your Joseph,—your long-lost son,” cried the prodigal. “Don’t you recognize me now?” John, who had released his mother, stood by in silence; while Joseph, secure in his welcome, gathered his mother in his arms and exclaimed, “It is now my turn to give you a bear hug. Take this, and this!” and he clasped her with half-savage tenderness again and again. “Yes, mother!” cried the father, who, overcome by his emotions, dropped feebly into his chair. Then, controlling his feelings by a strong effort of the will, he added with a laugh, “Hadn’t we better kill the prodigal, seeing the calf has come home?” At a late hour a frugal meal was spread, to which the weary home-comers did enforced justice, the mother on one side of the table weeping and laughing by turns, and the father on the other side endeavoring with indifferent success to be dignified and calm.