Chapter XIX. The Call of the Oreads - Page 2

of food and ammunition on the counter between them.

"Poleon," said he, "you're not going away?"

"Yes," said Doret. "I'm takin' li'l' trip."

"But when are you coming back?"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Dat's hard t'ing for tellin'. I'm res'less in my heart, so I'm goin' travel some. I ain' never pass on de back trail yet, so I 'spect I keep goin'."

"Oh, but you can't!" cried Burrell. "I--I--" He paused awkwardly, while down the breeze came the lament of the two little Gales. "Well, I feel just as they do." He motioned in the direction of the sound. "I wanted you for a friend, Doret; I hate to lose you."

"I ain' never got my satisfy yet, so I'm pass on--all de tam' pass on. Mebbe dis trip I fin' de place."

"I'm sorry--because--well, I'm a selfish sort of cuss--and--" Burrell pulled up blushingly, with a strong man's display of shame at his own emotion. "I owe all my happiness to you, old man. I can't thank you--neither of us can--we shall never live long enough for that, but you mustn't go without knowing that I feel more than I'll ever have words to say."

He was making it very hard for the Frenchman, whose heart was aching already with a dull, unending pain. Poleon had hoped to get away quietly; his heart was too heavy to let him face Necia or this man, and run the risk of their reading his secret, so a plaintive wrinkle gathered between his eyes that grew into a smile. And then, as if he were not tried sufficiently, the girl herself came flying in.

"What's this I hear?" she cried. "Alluna tells me--" She saw the telltale pile on the counter, and her face grew white. "Then it's true! Oh, Poleon!"

He smiled, and spoke cheerily. "Yes, I been t'inkin' 'bout dis trip long tam'."

"When are you coming back?"

"Wal, if I fin' dat new place w'at I'm lookin' for I don' never come back. You people was good frien' to me, but I'm kin' of shif'less feller, you know. Mebbe I forget all 'bout Flambeau, an' stop on my 'New Countree'--you never can tol' w'at dose Franchemans goin' do."

"It's the wander-lust," murmured Burrell to himself; "he'll never rest."

"What a child you are!" cried Necia, half angrily. "Can't you conquer that roving spirit and settle down like a man?" She laid her hand on his arm appealingly. "Haven't I told you there isn't any 'far country'? Haven't I told you that this path leads only to hardship and suffering and danger? The land you are looking for is there"--she touched his breast--"so why don't you stay in Flambeau and let us help you to find it?"

He was deeply grateful for her blindness, and yet it hurt him so that