And so the years went on,—­one, two, three, four,—­and Dandy Steve had become one of the most popular and best-known guides in the Adirondack country.  His seeming effeminacy of attire had been long proved to mark no effeminacy of nature, no lack of strength.  There was not a better shot, a stronger rower, on the list of summer guides; nor a better cook and provider.  Every party which went out under his care returned with warm praise for Steve, with a friendly feeling also, which would in many instances have warmed into familiar acquaintance if Steve would have permitted it.  But with all his cheerfulness and obliging good-will he never lost a certain quantity of reserve.  Even the men whose servant he was for the time being were insensibly constrained to respect this, and to keep the distance he, not they, determined.  There remained always something they could not, as the phrase was, “make out” about him.  His aversion to women was well known; so much so that it had come to be a tacitly understood thing that parties of which women were members need not waste their time trying to induce Dandy Steve to take them in charge.

But fate had not lost sight of Steve yet.  He had had his period of solitary independence, of apparent absolute control of his own destinies.  His seven years were up.  If he had supposed that he was serving them, like Jacob of old, for that best-beloved mistress, Freedom, he was mistaken.  The seven years were up.  How little he dreamed what the eighth would bring him!

It was midsummer, and one of Steve’s best patrons, Richard Cravath, of Philadelphia, had not yet appeared.  For three summers Mr. Cravath and two or three of his friends had spent a month in the Adirondacks hunting, fishing, camping under Steve’s guidance.  They were all rich men, and generous, and, what was to Steve of far more worth than the liberal pay, considerate of his feelings, tolerant of his reticence; not a man of them but respected their queer, silent guide’s individuality as much as if he had been a man of their own sphere of life.  Steve had learned, by some unpleasant experience, that this delicate consideration did not always obtain between employers and employed.  It takes an organization finer than the ordinary to perceive, and live up to the perception, that the fact that you have hired a man for a certain sum of money per month to cook your food or drive your horses gives you no right to ask him in regard to his private, personal affairs prying questions which you would not dare to put to common acquaintances in society.

As week after week went by and no news came from Mr. Cravath, Steve found himself really saddened at the thought of not seeing him.  He had not realized how large a part of his summer’s pleasure, as well as profit, came from the month’s sport with this Philadelphia party.  Wistfully he scrutinized the lists of arrivals at the different houses day after day, for the familiar names; but they were not to be found.  At last, after he had given over looking for them, he was electrified, one evening in September, by having his name called from the piazza of one of the hotels,—­“Steve, is that you?  You’re just the man I want; I was afraid we were too late to get you!”