"Then followed the terrible fever that nearly took my life. How I prayed,
my boy, that I might die, so great was my sorrow and utter loneliness;
but the Great Father saw fit to keep me here, and now I am thankful. He
needed me to help you become a man. When I was so sick grandfather
came and brought us home, and here we have been ever since."

"But, mother, have you never wanted to go to Colorado?"

"Yes, son, I've often thought I would be happier there, but father has
never thought so. I've often promised Aunt Lucy we'd come. I'm afraid she
won't be long for this world, for she has a very serious tubercular
trouble. You must never mention it, son, but your grandfather never had
any use for Uncle Joe, and was very much opposed to Lucy's marrying him,
so they slipped off and were married secretly. She has never felt like
coming home since--not even for a visit. Father gets very lonely for her,
for she was the life of the old home. I would not be surprised, son, if I
should be called to her bedside any time now, for she is very low."

"Mother, if such a thing should happen, you'd take me with you, wouldn't
you?" eagerly asked Willis.

"Of course I would, my son."

"And perhaps I could find father's tunnel. Say, mother, did you ever hear
what became of that Tad Kieser after father's death?" he inquired.

"No, son, I never heard. He wrote me one letter, expressing his sympathy,
and in that letter I remember he said he had abandoned the tunnel because
he was convinced that it was not a safe place to work, and probably it