The sergeant had not forgotten his promise to McConnell, but as he thought of it he knew at once how impossible it was of fulfilment. The boy saw his way clearly. Nothing that McConnell could offer could avail to turn him from that way. What lay in it of peril or of pain, who could say, but press the path he would at all costs and at all hazards. Thus it came that on a morning in that most glorious season of the Canadian year, the Indian summer, Paul set forth on his great adventure. It had been decided in family conclave that he would make the journey more cheaply, an important consideration for him, by horseback than by train, and more especially that the warm-hearted Irishman had insisted that he should take with him the cow-pony on which he had ridden the range for the past six months. “It would be a shame to part yez,” he declared, “an’ next summer, please God, you can ride him back where there’ll be a job waitin’ ye, so there will.” Long and vigorously Paul protested, but in vain. “Tush!” said Ma McConnell to Paul in an aside, brushing away his protests. “Why not let the poor man pleasure himself in givin’ the beast till ye? An’ what’s a pony or less to McConnell?” So provisioned and furnished till his dunnage bag and saddle bags were like to burst with their gifts, Paul stood ready to take his departure. They all made light of the leaving. In a few months he would be back again, and besides, as Ma McConnell declared, what was to hinder them taking a bit of a jaunt to the city themselves during the winter? Indeed, they had long planned such a trip, and as for Molly, Pa was just sayin’ how she ought to get a chance at her schoolin’ and her music for a bit. So he might be on the lookout for them any day. “Molly, where are ye thin? Och, the poor child! Ye’ll jist excuse her. It’s broken hearted she is at the leavin’.” “Say good-bye to her for me,” said Paul. “And good-bye, Mrs. McConnell. You have been awfully good to me. I shall never forget you.” “Hoosh! ye boy!” commanded Ma. “Will ye be afther breakin’ the heart of me? Be off wid ye.” But she held him tight in her arms, refusing to let him go for some moments, kissing him on both cheeks and praying the saints to keep him, while Pa jeered at her. “Howly Mary! Will ye consider that now! Right forninst the eyes of me! Did ye iver behold the likes o’ that now? Well thin, me bye, good-bye till ye. An’ if ye iver find yourself in a tight place call on Tim McConnell an’ he’ll be at y’re back till y’re breast bone shows through.” At the turn of the trail Paul swung round his broncho and waved again his farewell. “Good-bye, all!” he cried. “And be sure to say good-bye to Molly.”