I wish I could convey the air of resigned determination that was in his words; also the cynicism. Pooh! If Hempfield didn't want him, Hempfield could go hang. He was at the age when he thought he could get away from life. He had not learned that the only way to get on with life is not to get out of it, but to get into it. He told me that he had wired for money to go home; he drew his brows down in a hard scowl and stared out over the river. "I've stopped fooling with life," said he tragically. I could have laughed at him, and yet, somehow, I loved him. It was a great moment in his life. I sat down by him under the beech. "I'm going to be free," said Nort. "I'm going to do things yet in this world." "Free of what, Nort?" I asked. "Ed Smith--for one thing." "Have you thought that wherever you go you will be meeting Ed Smiths?" He did not reply. "I'm sorry," I said, "that you've surrendered." "Surrendered?" He winced as though I had cut him. "Yes, surrendered. Haven't you sent for money? Haven't you given up? Aren't you trying to run away?" Nort jumped from his place. "No!" he shouted. "Ed Smith discharged me. I would rather cut off my right hand than work in the same county with him again." "So you have balked at the first hurdle--and are going to run away!" I have thought often since then of that perilous moment, of how much in Nort's future life turned upon it. Nort's eyes, usually so blue and smiling, grew as black as night. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I mean just what I said"--I looked him in the eye--"you are running away before the battle begins." For a moment I thought I had lost him, and my heart began to sink within me, and then--it was beautiful--he stepped impulsively toward me: "Well, what do you think I should do, anyway?" "Nort," I said, "only yesterday you were enthusiastic over the idea of getting the truth about Hempfield, of publishing a really great country newspaper." "What an ass I was!" "Wrong!" I said. "David," he cut in petulantly, "I don't get what you mean." "I'll tell you, Nort: The greatest joy in this world to a man like you is the joy of new ideas, of wonderful plans---- Now, isn't it?" "Yes. I certainly thought for a few days last week that I had found the pot at the end of the rainbow." "It was only the rainbow, Nort: if you want the pot you've got to dig for it." "What do you mean?"