an open book. Gradually and tactfully the Colonel led him to talk
about his life, but on this subject he became more reserved. He spoke
enthusiastically about his mother, and how much he owed to her. His
father, however, he never mentioned. The Colonel was far from
satisfied, as he had learned really nothing about Dane's history, nor
how his parents happened to be in this country.

They stopped to eat their dinner by a sparkling spring which bubbled
from a wooded hillside. They were hungry, and thoroughly enjoyed the
good things Mammy had provided.

"I suppose this is a common occurrence to you," the Colonel remarked
when he had finished his meal.

"It has been my life for years," was the quiet reply. "I hardly know
how to eat at a table."

"Have you no home?" the Colonel asked. "Is your father not living?"

"Yes, I believe he is living, but I have not seen him for years."

"And why not?"

To this question Dane made no reply. He sat very still, looking down
through the trees into the valley below. The Colonel at first became
impatient, then angry.

"Look here, young man," he began, "if you are to have my daughter, I
must know something more about who you are, and where you have come
from. Why do you not wish to tell me about your father?"