“How can that be?” asked the boy, raising his eyes to Ralph’s grave face.

“You are the first human being in whose society I have taken pleasure for years.  Deeply injured by man, I conceived a hatred for the whole race.  But in your frank face I see much to like.  I think I could trust you.”

“I hope so,” said Herbert.

“You have inspired in me a new feeling, for which I cannot account.  Yesterday the world had no attractions for me.  To-day I feel an interest in your welfare, at least.”

“Why do you bury yourself in this lonely place?” said Herbert.  “You cannot be happy in it.  Come with me to New York.  It must be a beautiful place.”

Ralph smiled gravely.

“To the young the world seems bright,” he said.  “It is after years have swept away one illusion after another, after faith in one’s fellowmen has been sorely tried, and the hollowness of the world’s friendship has been proved, that the brightness fades.”

“You have seen more of life than I,” said Herbert, “and perhaps it is presumption in me to question what you say; but I cannot help feeling that you are mistaken.  I am sure that there is such a thing as true friendship.”

“How many true friends are you blessed with?” asked Ralph, a little sarcasm in his tone.

“Not many, perhaps, but some.  There is good Dr. Kent and his family.  I am sure of their friendship.  Then,” he added, his color slightly rising, “I think I have found another friend,” and he looked in the face of his guide.

The grave face softened.

“Thank you, my lad,” said Ralph.  “You are right there, at least.  You can rely upon my friendship being sincere.”

“Then I am right, am I not?” said Herbert, smiling brightly.

“I believe you are,” said the guide, after a pause, “and I thank you for teaching me a lesson.”

“Man was made in the image of God,” said Herbert.  “If we doubt man, I think it is the same as doubting God.”

Ralph did not reply, but walked on in thoughtful silence.

“How far is it to Vernon?” asked Herbert, when they had emerged from the woods.

“It is five miles farther.  Can you walk so far?”

“Oh, yes; I have good stout legs.  But suppose Mr. Holden should escape.  He might pursue us.”

Ralph smiled.

“I think I shall find him in the same place when I return,” he said.

“He will be very angry with you.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Ralph, indifferently.

“Are you not afraid he will have you arrested?”

“No, I care little.  If I am fined, I will pay the fine, and that will be the end of it.”

“But you might be imprisoned?”

“If I see any danger of that, I shall be tempted to charge Abner Holden with his attempt upon your life.  Don’t make yourself anxious about me, my lad.  I have little fear of what the law may do as far as my agency in this affair is concerned.”