"Wait! It aint just the amblin' of an old man. I'm goin' some place. For a long time you've been fixin' for this. I know," nodding fiercely. "I've watched an' waited to see when you'd screw up your nerve."
John stirred uneasily, but his father proceeded.
"An' what did all that work an' knowledge mean? It meant a fortune!" Within the house a man with sleek black hair spoke quietly into a desk telephone, and Luke jerked his head toward him. "Rowe, there, can tell you how much it is. I don't even pay attention to that, now. I used to keep my own books, used to be proud to figure that fortune—no longer!"
He shook his head and the old mouth set grimly.
"I'd give it all, every dollar, every cent; give my credit to the last dime to be back there again with an' ice-cold river huggin' my legs an' a peavy in my hand, gettin' my start, learnin' about men an' timber an' wonderin' about debt. I read the other day about a doctor that makes men young. Paper talk! But if it was true, if he could make me young again, I'd want to leave all I've made with the old shell and go back to th' beginning once more with nothin' but my hands." He eyed his old palms, protruding from the sleeves of the overcoat. "Only—steady hands."
Luke again looked at the moon, now edging toward the pine trees.
"But there's nothin' to go back to, nothin' I care about! Th' Pine that made me dream dreams when I was drivin' the Saginaw 's gone. No Michigan White Pine left which was the only White Pine worth th' name! Western—yes; mixed stands; it ain't the real old quality; not th' cork." He shook his head. "An' such
