His quiet mood did not last long. The Canadian air was getting into his blood again. A sudden whirr and flash, where a host of red-winged blackbirds arose in a cloud from the road, proved too much for him. He leaped from the buggy, yelling like a madman, and for the rest of the journey was quite beyond the limits of reason. He sat in the vehicle only on rare occasions, and spent his time scrambling over fences, tearing into the woods and back again, chasing squirrels and whooping like an Indian, until his father privately questioned Scotty as to the effect of the Egyptian sun on the brain. Scotty sat beside Hamish, laughing helplessly at poor old Dan's madness, and in his quieter way revelling just as much in all the dear familiar sights. He was feeling how good it was to be a son of the north land, to live in this garden of lake and river, forest and meadow, and see it come to life afresh each year, and as they climbed a hill, and he stood up in the old buggy to catch his first glimpse of Lake Oro he realised solemnly that, though he might be called English, Irish, Scotch, Indian, Egyptian, what not, he was altogether and entirely and overwhelmingly Canadian. And at the brow of the hill came the Murphy homestead, with all the Murphys far and near assembled to greet the returned wanderer. Scotty and Hamish had intended to leave Dan at his home and hurry away, but when the hero of the house of Murphy was dropped into the arms of the excited crowd, they found leave-taking a difficult enterprise. Irish hospitality, especially when transplanted to the land of Canadian plenty, is a compelling force. At first Scotty's impatience to get home resisted all invitations, and old Pat was about to reluctantly allow them to depart, when Mrs. Murphy, who until now had been weeping loudly on Dan's broad shoulder, oblivious to everything but his return, suddenly awoke to the shameful fact that someone was about to leave her doors without stopping to eat. She issued no further invitation, but with her apron still to her eyes and still exclaiming over and over in muffled sobs, that "the darlin' had come back to his mother," she darted into the road; and snatching the horses' bridle, dragged her guests through the gate and up to the door, amid the applause of the assembled Flats. And so they had supper in the Murphy home perforce, and all the great deeds of their expedition had to be recounted. Scotty told how Dan had disobeyed orders and run away at the battle of Kirbekan; only, like a true Irishman, he had run to, not from the fight. But when his friend returned the compliment and launched into an account of the midnight skirmish at the ruined temple, the hero of that event arose hastily, and declared they must be going.