“Indeed we do,” Glen declared.  “I’m just in a mood for a story.  It will help to pass the time until daddy returns.  I wonder what in the world is keeping him.”

“Oh, he’ll be here shortly, so don’t worry,” Samson told her.  “He’ll come so suddenly, mebbe, that ye’ll be surprised.  I find that it’s ginerally the unexpected that happens in this world.  An’ so ye want to hear me little yarn, eh?”

“Certainly we do,” and Glen settled herself comfortably in her chair.

“Well, I warn ye at the outset that it’s about some of the deepest things of life; of love an’ sich like.  But it’s true as the Gospel.”

“That should make it all the more interesting,” Reynolds replied.  “We are both young, remember, and are fond of such things.”

“Sure, sure, I’m well aware of that,” and the prospector’s eyes twinkled.  “Now, this story of mine goes back quite a number of years.  It is about a man who was carryin’ on a very prosperous bizness in a sartin city, the name of which I shall not mention jist now.  He had everything that his heart could desire, sich as money, friends, a good home, a wife who was one in a million, an’ a little child who made that home full of joy.  Then suddenly a great change took place.  His wife died, an’ the man was left dazed an’ helpless.  He no longer took any interest in his bizness, an’ his one object was to git away from people, far off into the wilderness that he might be alone with his sorrow.  The day at last came when he was missed in the city, an’ his friends an’ acquaintances did not know what had become of him.  But thar was one thing that made them think he was not dead, an’ that was something which appeared in one of the papers.  I remember the exact words: 

“‘I go from the busy haunts of men, far from the worry an’ bustle of bizness life.  I may be found, but only he who is worthy will find me, an’ whoever finds me, will, I trust, not lose his reward.  From the loopholes of retreat I shall watch the stress an’ fever of life, but shall not mingle in the fray.”

Before Samson had ended, Reynolds was on his feet, standing excitedly before him.

“That man is Henry Redmond!” he exclaimed.  “Did you know him?  Have you any idea where he is?”

“Set down, young man, set down,” the prospector ordered.  “Don’t git excited.  Yes, I’m speakin’ of Henry Redmond.  No doubt ye’ve heard of him.”

“Indeed I have, and if you know where he is, tell me quick.”

Samson’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he waved Reynolds back to his chair.

“Jist be patient until I git through with me yarn, will ye?  I’m mighty glad that yer so interested in the story.  Yes, the man was Henry Redmond, an’, as I told ye, he suddenly lit out to parts unknown.  But I know what happened to him.  He did leave the busy haunts of men, an’ went far off into the wilderness, takin’ with him his little child.  He lived alone fer