where a clump of pines, not far from the house, showed dark and
tall, against the last red glow in the sky.

The stranger glanced at the big man's face in quick sympathy. "I
had only two; a boy and a girl," he said softly. "The girl and her
mother have been gone these twenty years. The boy grew to be a
man, and now he has left me." The deep voice faltered. "Pardon me,
sir, for speaking of this, but my lad was so like your boy there.
He was all I had, and now--now--I am very lonely, sir."

There is a bond of fellowship in sorrow that knows no
conventionalities. As the two men sat in the hush of the coming
night, their faces turned toward the somber group of trees, they
felt strongly drawn to one another.

The mountaineer's companion spoke again half to himself; "I wish
that my dear ones had a resting place like that. In the crowded
city cemetery the ground is always shaken by the tramping of
funeral professions." He buried his face in his hands.

For some time the stranger sat thus, while his host spoke no word.
Then lifting his head, the man looked away over the ridges just
touched with the lingering light, and the valley below wrapped in
the shadowy mists. "I came away from it all because they said I
must, and because I was hungry for this." He waved his hand toward
the glowing sky and the forest clad hills. "This is good for me;
it somehow seems to help me know how big God is. One could find
peace here--surely, sir, one could find it here--peace and
strength."