II

The next morning Nils woke with the first flood of light that
came with dawn. The white-plastered walls of his room reflected
the glare that shone through the thin window shades, and he found
it impossible to sleep. He dressed hurriedly and slipped down the
hall and up the back stairs to the half-story room which be used to
share with his little brother. Eric, in a skimpy nightshirt, was
sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes, his pale yellow
hair standing up in tufts all over his head. When he saw Nils, he
murmured something confusedly and hustled his long legs into
his trousers. "I didn't expect you'd be up so early, Nils," he
said, as his head emerged from his blue shirt.

"Oh, you thought I was a dude, did you?" Nils gave him a
playful tap which bent the tall boy up like a clasp knife. "See
here: I must teach you to box." Nils thrust his hands into his
pockets and walked about. "You haven't changed things much up
here. Got most of my old traps, haven't you?"

He took down a bent, withered piece of sapling that hung over
the dresser. "If this isn't the stick Lou Sandberg killed himself
with!"

The boy looked up from his shoe-lacing.

"Yes; you never used to let me play with that. Just how did
he do it, Nils? You were with father when he found Lou, weren't