"You keep yer eye skinned an' I reckon ye'll know soon enough; an' I reckon that's as much as I got any right to say," answered Melchior. "But I'll tell ye this much more, Jim. I wish ye'd keep a holt on yer money till you take a good look 'round. There are plenty better buys in this country than a chance to sweat yer everlastin' life out for Amos Hammond." Jim was surprised and distressed by Melchior's talk. It startled him to hear a son talk so of a father; and yet he believed the son to be wise in his generation. He held no brief for the father. The high, bitterly high, moral tone of the trader's conversation had not fooled the youth from the South for a minute. That night and the next day and the next night passed without any incident of startling significance in the Hammond household. On the morning of the second day after young Todhunter's arrival, there was a flare-up at breakfast between Hammond and his son. "I'm goin' out Kingswood way to-day, an' you come along with me, Mel," said Hammond. "I gotter tend store," returned Melchior, sullenly. "No, you ain't. James can tend store by himself to-day, an' Alice will lend him a hand if business is rushin', which ain't likely." "There's a man comin' to see me about tradin' rifles to-day." "Even if that's so, ye won't make a trade when I ain't around to see you ain't cheated." "I reckon I can do my own tradin'. I'd sooner get cheated on a gun-trade with a man than be seen with you 'round Kingswood." "Mel!" cried Mrs. Hammond, white to the lips. "Mel! Have a care what you say, for my sake!" "Shut yer face!" screamed Hammond at the woman, with a black, jumping glare out of his eyes that looked like murder. She bowed her head. He turned to Melchior, trembling with rage. "Do you come along with me, or d'ye go yer own way from this time forrad?" he asked in a terrible whisper. Melchior was silent, a picture of shamed and sullen defeat. He sat hunched in his chair, his head hanging, his face red as fire. Hammond and his son drove off in a light wagon immediately after breakfast, to be gone all day. Jim Todhunter went to the store. The bright morning dragged slowly toward noon, but no customers came to buy, sell, or trade. Jim went to the front door and looked out rebelliously at the village, the river, and the hills. The village could be seen at a glance, for it was nothing more than a cluster of a dozen buildings from which ill-tilled farms receded up the valley and back among the hills. Beyond, on every side, the forests dipped and climbed, and drove wedges of dusky firs and glowing maples down between the clearings.