“Oh, it’s me, Daniel; it’s me.  Caught you didn’t I?  Blast it all; might have known I would.  Bound to; bound to, Daniel; been at it ever since I lost you.  Visiting in Kansas City last week with my old friends, the Stewarts; young fellow there, Ollie, put me right.  First part of your name, description, voice and all that; knew it was you; knew it.  Didn’t tell them, though; blasted reporters go wild.  Didn’t tell a soul, not a soul.  Sarah and the girls think I am in Kansas City or Denver.  Didn’t tell old man Matthews, either; came near, though, very near.  Blast it all; what does it mean? what does it all mean?”

In his excitement the little man spoke rapidly as he hurried toward the shepherd.  When he reached the cabin, the two friends, so different, yet so alike, clasped hands.

As soon as the old scholar could speak, he said, “David, David!  To think that this is really you.  You of all men; you, whom I most needed.”

“Huh!” grunted the other.  “Look like you never needed me less.  Look fit for anything, anything; ten years younger; every bit of ten years.  Blast it all; what have you done to yourself?  What have you done?” He looked curiously at the tanned face and rude dress of his friend.  “Bless my soul, what a change!  What a change!  Told Matthews you were an aristocrat.  He wouldn’t believe it.  Don’t wonder.  Doubt it myself, now.”

The other smiled at the Doctor’s amazement.  “I suppose I have changed some, David.  The hills have done it.  Look at them!” He pointed to the encircling mountains.  “See how calm and strong they are; how they lift their heads above the gloom.  They are my friends and companions, David.  And they have given me of their calmness and strength a little.  But come in, come in; you must be very tired.  How did you come?”

The doctor followed him into the cabin.  “Railroad, hack, wagon, walked.  Postoffice last night.  Man there is a savage, blasted incorrigible savage.  Mill this afternoon.  Home with your friends on the ridge.  Old man is a gentleman, a gentleman, sir, if God ever made one.  His boy’s like him.  The mother, she’s a real mother; made to be a mother; couldn’t help it.  And that young woman, with the boy’s name, bless my soul, I never saw such a creature before, Daniel, never!  If I had I—­I—­Blast it all; I wouldn’t be bossed by Sarah and the girls, I wouldn’t.  See in that young man and woman what God meant men and women to be.  Told them they ought to marry; that they owed it to the race.  You know my ideas, Daniel.  Think they will?”

The shepherd laughed, a laugh that was good to hear.

“What’s the matter now, Daniel?  What is the matter?  Have I said anything wrong again?  Blast it all; you know how I always do the wrong thing.  Have I?”

“No, indeed, David; you are exactly right,” returned Mr. Howitt.  “But tell me, did you see no one else at the house?  There is another member of the family.”