He chuckled for a full hour over the thought before he forgot it. The boy, however, upon whom Sarah's disapproval had made a more lasting impression, recalled it to him later. Allison joined them Monday morning at daybreak. All day they drove through the seeping rain--drove north in Caleb's buckboard, to turn off finally upon a woods trail that ran into the cast, along the lesser branch of the river. During the ride Steve's bearing toward the third member of the party was too plain to escape notice, for he never looked at nor directed a word to Allison unless it was in reply to a direct question, and then his answers were almost monosyllabic. But Allison, who, as usual, gave his undivided attention to the country through which they were passing, in attitude toward the boy was even more remarkable. Once when they had halted at noon he pointed out a hillside of pine, black beneath the rain, close-clustered and of mastlike straightness. "There's a wonderful stand of pine, Cal," he remarked. "I'd venture to say that it would cut at least two million feet." Instantly, although the remark was addressed to him, Caleb knew that it was Stephen's comment for which Allison was angling. And hard upon his casual statement the boy's head came sharply around. "She'll run nigh double that," he swallowed the bait. "She'll run double--and mebby a trifle more." Nor did Allison even smile now. "What makes you think so?" he asked. Again there came the boy's pat answer. "I ain't thinkin'," he said. "It's jest there! They're close set--them trees--and they're clear, clean to the tops. There ain't a stump there that won't run near ten standard." Allison squinted and finally nodded his head. "Maybe," he agreed, "maybe." But later Caleb saw him enter some figures in his small, black-bound notebook. That night the episode was repeated with a bit of variation. They had set up their tent and made camp, a little before nightfall. Far below them, hidden by the trees, the east branch cut a threadlike gash through the center of a valley broad enough and round enough to have been a veritable amphitheater of the gods. The whole great hollow was clothed with evergreen, a sea of dripping tops in the semi-gloom, and Allison, when he had set aside his plate and lighted his pipe, lifted a hand in a gesture which embraced it all. "If you weren't so lazy-brained, Cal," he said, "that sight would stir in you something more than a mere appreciation of what you call the 'sublimity of sheer immensity.' For the man who can look ahead ten or a dozen years there is an undreamed of fortune right here in this alley." Caleb yawned. "No doubt," he agreed. "But I didn't coin that phrase for immense fortunes. I guess I'm old-fashioned enough to like it a whole lot better just as it is."