Binwell’s eyes were fixed upon him with an antagonistic intentness, as if he would fain seize upon his withheld thought in some unconscious betrayal of face. But the blind man could only hear his voice, languid and reminiscent, drawling on, aimlessly, it seemed. “Waal, I ’members it too, mighty well. How flustry the old man war! Wonder if we’ll be that-a-way when we-uns git ez old ez him? He gin us the box, an’ we-uns kerried it ter the top o’ the Bluffs, an’ ye clomb down whilst I watched. An’ wunst in a while the old man would nudge me,” then with a quick change of voice—“‘Ain’t that a horse a-lopin’, Jerry? hear it? hear it?’ An’ I’d say, ‘It’s the wind, Squair—the wind, a-wallopin’ up the gorge.’ An’ then he’d rest fur a minit an’ say, ‘Air sign o’ Ab? That thar boy’ll break his neck, I’m ’feared.’ An’ I’d say, ‘I hear the clods in the niches a-fallin’ whilst he climbs, Squair; he’s a-goin’ it.’ An’ then he’d clutch me by the arm, an’ say, whispery an’ husky, ‘Jerry! Jerry! what’s that down the road—the jingle o’ spurs, the clank o’ a sabre?’ An’ I’d say—‘It’s jes’ the dead leaves, Squair, a-rustlin’ as they fly in the wind.’ An’ he warn’t easy one minit till ye clomb up the Bluffs ag’in, empty-handed an’ the box hid.” As he talked, Rosamond’s hands had fallen still in her lap while she listened with the wide-eyed wonder of childhood. Her curling yellow hair, ruddily gleaming in the firelight, hung down over her shoulders, her cheek was flushed, her great gray eyes, full of starry lights and yet pensively shadowed by her long black lashes, were fixed upon his face. When the tension slackened she sighed deeply and stirred, and then lapsed into intent interest again. The blind man had bent forward, his elbows on his knees. “I ’members,” he said again. “I never did know, Ab, whether ye fund them hollows in the Bluffs a toler’ble tight fit, nor how fur back they run in them rocks; but ye war a mighty slim boy in them days.” “Warn’t slim enough ter git inter the fust nor the second,” spoke up the blind soldier briskly, with awakened interest. “So ye put it inter the thurd?” demanded Jerry. If he could have seen himself how well he would have thought it that his old comrade could not see him! His head was thrust forward till all the ligaments in his long thin neck were visible, strained and stretched. His eyes were starting. His breath was quick, and his under jaw had dropped. Rosamond had a half affrighted look as she sat in her chair on the hearth beside the sleeping dogs and the grotesquely attired cat that was gravely washing its face. The blind man nodded. “Yes,” he said simply, “I put it in the thurd, an’ pritty far back, too.”