At the first bend in the road he turned to look back, and saw Max still standing by the gate, looking wistfully after his young master. Somehow or other, although Dannie was fond of his books, the day at school dragged dreadfully, and it was with a long sigh of relief that he found himself, in the afternoon, trudging down the dusty road toward home. Max, waiting for him at the gate, leaped joyfully out to meet him. He went to the house to see Aunt Martha, and then again, in compliance with gran’pap’s request, and accompanied by the dog, he sauntered up to the pasture to look after the sheep. That duty performed, he went down to the flat and along the road to the potato field where Gabriel, the steady hired man, was digging potatoes. His name was not Gabriel, as Dannie often explained; but every one got to calling him that on account of his horn. He had a big tin horn, once bright with red paint and gilt bands, which he used for the purpose of driving the cows, the sheep, the poultry, and any other live-stock of which he might be in charge, affecting to believe that the animals responded more readily to his signals on the horn than they would have done to the sound of his voice. He was turning out beautiful, big, red potatoes; the Giant Rose he called them, with now and then a few old-fashioned white pink-eyes in the hills. “Great crop!” he exclaimed as Dannie came up. “Biggest crop sence the year your pa went away.” “What did my father go away for?” asked Dannie, so quickly that Gabriel, startled by the suddenness of the question, inadvertently struck the blade of his hoe into a great plump potato and split it from end to end. “Oh, now, that’s too bad!” he exclaimed, as he stooped to pick up the severed parts, moist and milk-white on the broad cut surfaces. “That’s the fust potater I’ve cut this season, or even nicked,” he continued, gazing ruefully at the vegetable wreck in his hand. “What did my father go away for?” repeated Dannie. The question certainly was direct enough to demand an answer. Gabriel leaned on his hoe-handle thoughtfully, and took the matter into due consideration before replying. “Well now, I’ve hearn one story about it one day, an’ another story about it another day. Defferent people hez defferent idees. Ez fer me, I ain’t prepared to make no affidavy about it one way ner another. ‘Don’t tell what you don’t know jes’ because it’s easy,’ ez ol’ Isra’l Pidgin use to say.” “What do folks say he went away for?” persisted Dannie. “Well, that’s another question. Some says one thing an’ some says another. Likely as not they ain’t nobody knows jest the right of it.” “Did he an’ Gran’pap quarrel?” Gabriel pushed the loose dirt from the top of the next hill of potatoes before he answered.