It was late when Gabriel returned from the Bermuda hill, later than he thought, for he had completely lost himself in the solemn imaginings that overtake and overwhelm a young man who is just waking up to the serious side of existence, and on whose mind are beginning to dawn the possibilities and responsibilities of manhood. Ah, these young men! How lovable they are when they are true to themselves--when they try boldly to live up to their own ideals! Once in his room, Gabriel looked about for the book he had been reading during the afternoon. It was his habit to read a quarter of an hour at least--sometimes longer--before going to bed. But the book was not to be found. This was surprising until he remembered that he had not entered his bed-room since the dinner-hour; and then it suddenly dawned on his mind that he had left the book at the foot of the big poplar. Well! that was a pretty come-off for a young man who was inclined to be proud of his careful and systematic methods. And the book was a borrowed one, and very valuable--one of the early editions of Franklin's autobiography, bound in leather. What would Meriwether Clopton think, if, through Gabriel's carelessness, the dampness and the dew had injured the volume, which, after Horace and Virgil, was one of Mr. Clopton's favourites? There was but one thing to be done, and that Gabriel was prompt to do. He went softly downstairs, so as not to disturb his grandmother, and made his way to the big poplar, where he was fortunate enough to find the book. Thanks to the sheltering arms of the tree, and the leaf-covered ground, the volume had sustained no damage. As Gabriel recovered the book, and while he was examining it, he heard a chorus of whistlers coming along the road. Mingled with the whistling chorus were the various sounds made by a waggon drawn by horses. Gabriel judged that the waggon contained the young men who had been to the dance at the Samples plantation, and in this his judgment turned out to be correct. The young men were in a double-seated spring waggon, drawn by two horses. They drew up in response to Gabriel's holla, and he climbed into the waggon. "Well, what in the name of the seven stars are you doing out here in the woods at this time of night?" cried Jesse Tidwell, and he laughed with humourous scorn when Gabriel told him. "But the book belongs to Bethune's grandfather," explained Gabriel. "It might have been ruined by rain, or by the damp night-air, if left out until morning. If it had been my own book, perhaps I'd have trusted to luck." "You missed it to-night, Tolliver," said Francis Bethune. "Feel Samples"--his name was Felix--"was considerably put out because you didn't come. And the girls--Tolliver, when did you get acquainted with them? They all know you. Nelly Kendrick tossed her head and turned up her nose, and said that a dance wasn't a dance unless Mr. Tolliver was present. Tidwell, who was the red-headed girl that raved so about Tolliver's curls?"