Tom could not discover that Anson bore any resentment against Ganley because the latter had not given himself up and cleared his comrade. He seemed to have a forbearance, a largeness of charity, which was divine. Perhaps his rough, wandering, adventurous life had made him _big_, to use one of Audry’s favorite words. So possibly Tom was right in his rather awkwardly expressed theory that the vast outdoors, and the hazard and adventure, are the best teachers. Whalen, victim of injustice, had a kind of seasoned goodness and tolerance about him which you may not learn from books on character building.... They alighted from the train at Catskill, and scanned the river for a glimpse of the faithful _Goodfellow_. But she had been brought ashore and was under official guard while a morbid throng crowded about staring at her and trying to look into her little cabin. Tom glimpsed her from a distance and it touched him to think of the gallant little _Goodfellow_ under arrest. None of the good people thereabouts knew who the rough looking man was who accompanied Tom Slade through an unfrequented street, and the two were soon upon the familiar road leading to Temple Camp. Poor Tom was in mortal fear lest the monster of the law intervene to spoil his program. But no one interfered with them. And so in a little while they came in sight of the little crystal spring by the wayside where hikers from Temple Camp often paused for a cooling drink. Just as before, Tom could see the wall which seemed respectfully to step aside so as to allow the spring to make its kindly presence known to the thirsty wayfarer. And just exactly as before, upon one of the hospitable stone projections which served as seats, Tom and Anson Dyker beheld a wizened little old man sitting like a funny statue, his two aged hands resting upon an outlandish cane. It seemed as if he had been sitting there all this time; that _he_ was real and Overlook Mountain but a dream. “Out for a stroll, Pop?” Tom asked. “You’re the one I met here,” said old Caleb, with that crisp style of announcement which had always amused Tom. “You tell ’em I am,” said Tom. “I’m the one told you this was good water; I live in that camp now.” “Still walking, I see.” “Man came to camp wanted to take my picture.” “Get out! Look here, Pop, I liked this water so well that I brought a friend of mine here to try it.” “The Ashokan Reservoir is poison,” old Caleb said. Tom was just about to present Anson in a mock way of introduction, when the whole matter passed out of his hands. He could not have described what happened. He had an uncomfortable feeling of being an outsider. He saw Anson in a new light, infinitely gentle, with an unutterable joy welling up within him. He saw him sitting sideways on the wall, arm around the poor old shoulders. He heard him saying, “It’s just me, granp’, don’t you know me? It’s Anse.”