Through dreams and waking this question followed him, giving him no deep rest; and dawn found him already afoot and busy with the preparations for their return home. [266] CHAPTER XVIII. THE HEGIRA. CALLISTA roused that morning, to see Lance moving, light-footed, a shadow between her and the first struggling blaze of the fire he had kindled. With sleepy surprise she noted his activities. When she observed that he was packing her canned fruit, with quick, deft fingers, she inquired, "What you doin' there. Lance? No use fixin' them up now. Sylvane won't be here till in the morning." Lance broke off the low whistling which had wakened her, and turned to regard his wife for a moment before he spoke. "I thought I'd get this packing done," he said non-committally. "If we was to go home to-day I could tote whatever we needed, and Buddy could fetch over the heaviest stuff to-morrow." Callista dozed a little luxuriously, and woke to a smell of boiling coffee and frying pork. "You've got breakfast enough there for three people," she commented, when she finally drew near the fire. "Uh-huh," assented Lance. "I 'lowed Sylvane might come to-day, place of Saturday. Anyhow, [267] we'll need something for a bite on the way." And Callista realized that her husband was indeed making the final preparations for their return. As they sat down either side the frying pan, and Callista lifted the lid from the Dutch oven to take the bread out, they became aware of the sound of scrambling hoofs and parting branches. Whenever there was high water in Caney, this little valley was cut off, it was a retreat unknown, unvisited; the newcomer could be nobody but Sylvane. A moment later the boy made his appearance, clambering over the rocks, leading Satan by a long line. "I 'lowed you-all wouldn't mind coming back a day sooner," he apologized, as he gratefully seated himself for an addition to his hastily snatched breakfast eaten by candle-light. "They's a feller that the Company has sent up to look over lands, and he's a-buyin' mineral rights--or ruther, gettin' options--on everybody's farms. They'll pay big prices, and Sis' Roxy said I ought to come and tell Lance of it." The man listened indifferently, but the woman was all aglow. The touch of practical life had dissolved whatever of the gipsy mood Lance's nature had been able to lend hers. She questioned the boy minutely. Lance listening with ill-concealed impatience; and when the subject was exhausted, began to ask him with great particularity concerning her truck patch at home and [268] whether Spotty, the young cow Lance had traded with Squire Ashe for, was doing well in her milk.