supper. "I wouldn't be too sure of that," said the blacksmith grimly,
"or even of getting a room. They're a stuck-up lot over there, and they
ain't goin' to hump themselves over a chap who comes traipsin' along
the road like any tramp, with nary baggage." But Demorest laughingly
accepted the risk, and taking his stout stick in one hand, pressed a
gold coin into the blacksmith's palm, which was, however, declined
with such reddening promptness that Demorest as promptly reddened and
apologized. The habits of European travel had been still strong on him,
and he felt a slight patriotic thrill as he said, with a grave smile,
"Thank you, then; and thank you still more for reminding me that I am
among my own 'people,'" and stepped lightly out into the road.
The air was still deliciously cool, but warmer currents from the heated
pines began to alternate with the wind from the summit. He found himself
sometimes walking through a stratum of hot air which seemed to exhale
from the wood itself, while his head and breast were swept by the
mountain breeze. He felt the old intoxication of the balmy-scented
air again, and the five years of care and hopelessness laid upon his
shoulders since he had last breathed its fragrance slipped from them
like a burden. There had been but little change here; perhaps the road
was wider and the dust lay thicker, but the great pines still mounted
in serried ranks on the slopes as before, with no gaps in their unending
files. Here was the spot where the stagecoach had passed them that
eventful morning when they were coming out of their camp-life into the
world of civilization; a little further back, the spot where Jack Hamlin
had forced upon him that grim memento of the attempted robbery of
their cabin, which he had kept ever since. He half smiled again at the
superstitious interest that had made him keep it, with the intention of
some day returning to bury it, with all recollections of the deed, under
the site of the old cabin. As he went on in the vivifying influence of
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