Hitherto Roderick had felt nothing but impatience at the thought of staying in Algonquin all his life to watch Old Peter and Eddie Perkins and Mike Cassidy and their like, but now that the day had come for him to leave, it seemed as though everything was calling upon him to stay, every finger post pointing towards home. Doctor Leslie's farewell, a warning to again consider. Lawyer Ed's patient, cheery acceptance of the situation, J. P. Thornton's open disapproval, Helen Murray's smile the other evening at the door of Rosemount, his father's love and confidence in him, all pulled him back with strong hands. The rainbow gold shone but dimly that day, and he would fain have turned his back upon it for the sure chance of a life like his father's in Algonquin. He found Old Angus watching for him at the window. His brave attempts at cheerfulness made Roderick's trial doubly hard. He bustled about, even trying to hum a tune, his old battle song, "My Love, be on thy guard." "I'll be back before you know I'm gone, Auntie," said the Lad, when Aunt Kirsty appeared and burst into tears at the sight of him. He tried to laugh as he said it, but he made but a feeble attempt. They sat by the fire, the Lad trying to talk naturally of his trip, his father making pathetic attempts to help him, and Aunt Kirsty crying silently over her knitting. At last, as Roderick glanced at the clock. Old Angus took out the tattered Bible from the cup-board drawer. It had always been the farewell ceremony in all the Lad's coming and going, the reading of a few words of comfort and courage and a final prayer. Old Angus read, as he so often did when his son was leaving, the one hundred and thirty-ninth psalm, the great assurance that no matter how far one might go from home and loved ones, one might never go away from the presence of God. "If I ascend up into Heaven thou art there. If I make my bed in hell behold thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall uphold me." The prayer was simple and direct, as were all Old Angus's communions with his Father. He had come to-day to a place where the way was very puzzling, and Roderick, knowing him so well, understood why he prayed for himself, that he might not be troubled with the why of it all, but that he might know that God was guiding them all aright. But there was an anguished note in his voice new to the Lad, and one that made the pain in his heart grow almost unbearable. He had heard that sound in his father's voice once before; and was puzzled to remember when. And then there came vividly to his heart's ear, the cry that had rung out over the dark waters to him the night the little boy was lost. "Roderick, my son, where are you?" The father's heart was uttering that cry now, and the son's heart heard it. There were tears in the eyes of both men when they arose from their knees.