Seen from the road, the country was forest, with about one quarter of the land exposed by clearings, in each of which were a log cabin and the barn of a settler. Seen from the top of the tallest building, the sky line was, as yet, an array of plumy pines, which still stood thick among the hardwood trees and, head and shoulders, overtopped them. Links was a town of smells. There were two hotels with their complex, unclean livery barns and yards, beside, behind, and around them; and on every side and in every yard there were pigs--and still more pigs--an evidence of thrift rather than of sanitation; but over all, and in the end overpowering all, were the sweet, pervading odour of the new-sawn boards and the exquisite aroma of the different fragrant gums--of pine, cedar, or fir--which memory will acknowledge as the incense to conjure up again in vivid actuality these early days of Links. * * * * * It was on a sunny afternoon late in the summer of 1866 that a little knot of loafers and hangers-on of the hotels gathered in the yard of the town's larger hostelry and watched Bill Kenna show an admiring world how to ride a wild, unbroken three-year-old horse. It was not a very bad horse, and Bill was too big to be a wonderful rider, but still he stayed on, and presently subdued the wild thing to his will, amid the brief, rough, but complimentary remarks of the crowd. One of the most rapt of the onlookers was a rosy-cheeked, tow-topped boy of attractive appearance--Jim; who though only eight years old, was blessed with all the assurance of twenty-eight. Noisy and forward, offering suggestions and opinions at the pitch of his piping voice, he shrieked orders to every one with all the authority of a young lord; as in some sense he was, for he was the only son of "Widdy" Hartigan, the young and comely owner and manager of the hotel. "There, now, Jim. Could ye do that?" said one of the bystanders, banteringly. "I couldn't ride that 'un, cause me legs ain't long enough to lap round; but I bet I could ride _that_ 'un," and he pointed to a little foal gazing at them from beside its dam. "All right, let him try," said several. "And have his brains kicked out," said a more temperate onlooker. "Divil a bit," said big Bill, the owner of the colt. "That's the kindest little thing that ever was born to look through a collar," and he demonstrated the fact by going over and putting his arms around the young thing's gentle neck. "Here, you; give me a leg up," shouted Jimmy, and in a moment he was astride the four-month colt.