of the picture.

"She's waitin' down there for me, and it ain't so very long till
spring," said Paul wistfully. "She's the best little woman a man
ever had, and there ain't nothin' too good for her, chummy!"

Thorpe, soul-sick after his recent experiences with the charity of
the world, discovered a real pleasure in this fresh, clear passion.
As he contemplated the abounding health, the upright carriage, the
sparkling, bubbling spirits of the young woodsman, he could easily
imagine the young girl and the young happiness, too big for a
little backwoods farm.

Three days after the newcomer had started in at the swamping, Paul,
during their early morning walk from camp to the scene of their
operations, confided in him further.

"Got another letter, chummy," said he, "come in yesterday. She
tells me," he hesitated with a blush, and then a happy laugh, "that
they ain't going to be only two of us at the farm next year."

"You mean!" queried Thorpe.

"Yes," laughed Paul, "and if it's a girl she gets named after her
mother, you bet."

The men separated. In a moment Thorpe found himself waist-deep in
the pitchy aromatic top of an old bull-sap, clipping away at the
projecting branches. After a time he heard Paul's gay halloo.