"Perhaps Mr. Ribsam is right," said the teacher, after a silence which
was oppressive even though brief; "we will keep each other's company,
for it is lonely work tramping through the woods, where there is no
beaten path to follow."
Thereupon the strange procession resumed its march toward the distant
town of Dunbarton, pausing at short intervals to call and signal to the
missing one.
It was a vast relief to all that the weather continued so mild and
pleasant. In the earlier part of the day there were some signs of an
approaching storm, but the signs had vanished and the night was one of
the most pleasant seen in September.
Had the rain begun to fall, or had the temperature lowered, the mother
would have been distracted, for nothing could have lessened the pangs
caused by her knowledge that her darling one was suffering. The true
mother lives for her children, and their joys and sorrows are hers.
Whenever the wind rustled among the branches around them she shuddered
and instinctively drew her own shawl closer about her shoulder; she
would have given a year's toil could she have wrapped the thick woolen
garment about the tiny form of her loved one, who never seemed so dear
to her as then.
"Gustav," she whispered, twitching his elbow, "I want to speak one word
to you."
"Speak out; they cannot understand us," he answered, alluding to the
fact that they were using their own language.
"Yes, but I don't want Nick to know what I say.
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