"Duke was responsible for that," Darrell answered, with a smiling glance
at the collie who had stationed himself by the fire and near Mr.
Britton; "he challenged me to wrestle with him, and got rather the worst
of it."
A moment later, having divested himself of his great coat, he drew a
second seat before the fire, saying,-"You evidently knew where to look for me?"
"Yes, your last letter, which, by the way, followed me for nearly six
weeks before reaching me, apprised me of your return to the camp. I was
somewhat surprised, too, after you had established yourself so well in
town."
"It was best for me--and for others," Darrell answered; then, noting the
inquiry in his friend's eyes, he added: "It is a long story, but it will keep; there will be plenty of time for
that later. Tell me of yourself first. For two months I have hungered
for word from you, and now I simply want to listen to you a while."
Mr. Britton smiled. "I owe you an apology, but you know I am a poor
correspondent at best, and of late business has called me here and there
until I scarcely knew one day where I would be the next; consequently I
have received my mail irregularly and have been irregular myself in
writing."
Darrell's face grew tender, for he knew it was not business alone which
drove his friend from place to place, but the old pain which found
relief only in ceaseless activity and an equally unceasing beneficence.
He well knew that many of his friend's journeys were purely of a
philanthropic nature, and he remarked, with a peculiar smile,-"Your travels always remind me very forcibly of the journey of the good
Samaritan; when he met a case of suffering on the way he was not the one
to 'pass by on the other side;' nor are you."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Britton, gravely, "he had found, as others have
since, that pouring oil and wine into his neighbor's wounds was the
surest method of assuaging the pain in some secret wound of his own."
Darrell watched his friend closely while he gave a brief account of his
recent journeys along the western coast. Never before had he seen the
lines of suffering so marked upon the face beside him as that night.
Something evidently had reopened the old wound, causing it to throb
anew.
"I need not ask what has brought you back into the mountains at this
time of year and in this storm," Darrell remarked, as his friend
concluded.
For answer Mr. Britton drew from his pocket an envelope which Darrell
at once recognized as a counterpart of one which had come to him some
weeks before, but which he had laid away unopened, knowing only too well
its contents.