The doctor told how he had passed the time, reading, sleeping and roaming about the clearing and the nearby woods.  “And you,” he said, looking the other over with a professional eye, “you look like a new man; a new man, Daniel.  How do you do it?  Some secret spring of youth in the wilderness?  Blast it all, wish you would show me.  Fool Sarah and the girls, fool them, sure.”

“David, have you forgotten the prescription you gave me when you ordered me from the city?  You took it you remember from one of our favorite volumes.”  The shepherd bared his head and repeated,

    “If thou art worn and hard beset,
    With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget;
    If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
    Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
    Go to the woods and hills!  No tears
    Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.”

“David, I never understood until the past months why the Master so often withdrew alone into the wilderness.  There is not only food and medicine for one’s body; there is also healing for the heart and strength for the soul in nature.  One gets very close to God, David, in these temples of God’s own building.”

Dr. Coughlan studied his old friend curiously; “Change; remarkable change in you!  Remarkable!  Never said a thing like that in all your life before, never.”

The shepherd smiled, “It’s your prescription, Doctor,” he said.

They retired early that evening, for the physician declared that his friend must need the rest.  “Talk to-morrow,” he said; “all day; nothing else to do.”  He promptly enforced his decision by retiring to his own bunk, leaving the shepherd to follow his example.  But not until the doctor was sure that his friend was sleeping soundly did he permit himself to sink into unconsciousness.

It was just past midnight, when the shepherd was aroused by the doctor striking a match to light the lamp.  As he awoke, he heard Pete’s voice, “Where is Dad?  Pete wants Dad.”

Dr. Coughlan, thinking it some strange freak of the boy’s disordered brain, and not wishing to break his friend’s much needed rest, was trying in low tones to persuade the boy to wait until morning.

“What does Pete want?” asked the shepherd entering the room.

“Pete wants Dad; Dad and the other man.  They must sure go with Pete right quick.”

“Go where with Pete?  Who told Pete to come for Dad?” asked Mr. Howitt.

“He told Pete.  Right now, he said.  And Pete he come.  ’Course I come with him.  Dad must go, an’ the other man too, ’cause he said so.”

In sickness or in trouble of any kind the people for miles around had long since come to depend upon the shepherd of Mutton Hollow.  The old man turned now to the doctor.  “Someone needs me, David.  We must go with the boy.”

“But, Daniel, Daniel!  Blast it all!  The boy’s not responsible.  Where will he take us?  Where do you want us to go, boy?”