“You owe me nothing, sir, nor can I take anything. I thank you for your hospitality, and some time”--he stopped, choked, and made a telling gesture. It said plainly enough that his pride was just then deeply humiliated, but that he would have his revenge at some future day. “Sit down, lad. I do not wonder at your feeling, nor would you at mine if you knew all. Under other circumstances we should have been the best of friends. It is impossible for me to be more explicit, and it hurts my pride as much to bid you go as yours to be sent. Some time--but, no matter. What we have in hand is to arrange for your departure as speedily and comfortably as possible. I would suggest”--but his words had the force of a command--“that Pierre convey you to the nearest town from which, by stage or railway, you can reach any further place you choose. If I were to offer advice, it would be to go home. Make your peace there; and then, if you desire a life in the woods, seek such with the consent and approval of those to whom your duty is due.” Adrian said nothing at first; then remarked: “Pierre need not go so far. Across the lake to the mainland is enough. I can travel on foot afterward, and I know more about the forest now than when I lost myself, and you, or Margot, found me. I owe my life to you. I am sorry I have given you pain. Sorry for many things.” “There are few who have not something to regret; for anything that has happened here no apology is necessary. As for saving life, that was by God’s will. Now--to business. You will see that I have reckoned your wages the same as Pierre’s--thirty dollars a month and ‘found,’ as the farmers say, though it has been much more difficult to find him than you. You have been here nearly three months, and eighty dollars is yours.” “Eighty dollars! Whew! I mean, impossible. In the first place, I haven’t earned it; in the second, I couldn’t take it from--from you--if I had. How could a man take money from one who had saved his life?” “Easily, I hope, if he has common sense. You exaggerate the service we were able to do you, which we would have rendered to anybody. Your earnings will start you straight again. Take them, and oblige me by making no further objections.” Despite his protests, which were honest, Adrian could not but be delighted at the thought of possessing so goodly a sum. It was the first money he had ever earned, therefore better than any other ever could be, and as he put it, in his own thoughts, “it changed him from a beggar to a prince.” Yet he made a final protest, asking: “Have I really, really, and justly earned all this? Do you surely mean it?” “I am not in the habit of saying anything I do not mean. It is getting late, and if you are to go to-night, it would be better to start soon,” answered Mr. Dutton, with a frown.