His mother looked sharply at his face until the match burned
out. "Only when you stay on it!" she hastened to say.

Eric came round the house by the path just then, and Nils
rose, with a yawn. "Mother, if you don't mind, Eric and I will
take a little tramp before bedtime. It will make me sleep."

"Very well; only don't stay long. I'll sit up and wait for
you. I like to lock up myself."

Nils put his hand on Eric's shoulder, and the two tramped down
the hill and across the sand creek into the dusty highroad beyond.
Neither spoke. They swung along at an even gait, Nils puffing at
his pipe. There was no moon, and the white road and the wide
fields lay faint in the starlight. Over everything was darkness
and thick silence, and the smell of dust and sunflowers. The
brothers followed the road for a mile or more without finding a
place to sit down. Finally, Nils perched on a stile over the wire
fence, and Eric sat on the lower step.

"I began to think you never would come back, Nils," said the
boy softly.

"Didn't I promise you I would?"

"Yes; but people don't bother about promises they make to
babies. Did you really know you were going away for good
when you went to Chicago with the cattle that time?"

"I thought it very likely, if I could make my way."