“It is no matter what a man believes, provided he is sincere,” muttered Jack, bracing his conscience against the godly conversation of his relatives; “I’ll fix ’em now,” he said to himself, with a decided nod of the head.

Late in the afternoon the boys’ grist was ready; then the old horse was brought out of the shed, the bag of meal placed across her back, and Jack and David both mounted; boys, horse, and bag, all homeward bound.

“You have a longer ride ahead than I wish you had, boys,” said the miller, casting his eyes toward a dark cloud which was rising and darkening the western sky; “there’s plenty of water up there for my mill.”

But they set off briskly, and were soon lost to sight among the windings of the forest road.  But the gloom gathered faster than the horse trotted, so that it was quite dark when they reached a fork in the road where it might make considerable difference which road they took.  One was the main road; this way there was a good bridge over Bounding Brook, a mountain stream which was often dangerously swollen by the spring rains.  It was the safest, though the longest way home.

The other was a wood path through the pines, which was the one often taken by farmers living east of the town, to shorten the distance to The Corner.  In this road, Bounding Brook was crossed by fording.

“Father told us to be sure to take the traveled road if it was late,” said David.

“Going to,” asserted Jack, as he drew rein for a moment, at the division of the roads.

But really, Jack was confused; the windings of the road, with nothing but woods on each side, and, of course, no distinct landmarks to direct them, together with the gloom of the night and their small acquaintance with the roads, puzzled the boys not a little.  But Jack, being the older, wished to impress his brother with a sense of his superior wisdom, and would not admit his confusion.

Quickly deciding which road he would take, he whipped up, exclaiming conclusively, “it’s all right!”

“Are you sure?” asked David.

“Certainly; I cannot be mistaken.”

“I don’t know,” said David.  “Let me jump off and run to that light yonder; there must be a cabin there.”

“Oh, we can’t stop for all that,” said Jack.  “I honestly believe this is the traveled road, David; can’t you trust me?”

“But your honestly believing it, doesn’t make it __,” protested David.

“I haven’t a doubt of it, Dave, you be still,” cried Jack angrily.

“I think we ought to ask, so as to be sure,” persisted David.

But Jack whipped up and poor David’s words went to the winds, as gust after gust of the coming shower roared through the forest, and Jack urged the horse to all the speed which her heavy load would allow.

The self-willed lad was well pleased with his hasty decision, and the farther he went, the more and more convinced was he that it was the right way.