Wandering without purpose, Ralph followed the rows of stalks first one way and then the other in a zigzag line, turning a right angle every minute or two.

At last he came out in a woods mostly of beech, and he pleased his melancholy fancy by kicking the dry and silky leaves before him in billows, while the soughing of the wind through the long, vibrant boughs and slender twigs of the beech forest seemed to put the world into the wailing minor key of his own despair.
What a fascination there is in a path come upon suddenly without a knowledge of its termination! Here was one running in easy, irregular curves through the wood, now turning gently to the right in order to avoid a stump, now swaying suddenly to the left to gain an easier descent at a steep place, and now turning wantonly to the one side or the other, as if from very caprice in the man who by idle steps unconsciously marked the line of the foot-path at first.

Ralph could not resist the impulse--who could ?--to follow the path and find out its destination, and following it he came presently into a lonesome hollow, where a brook gurgled among the heaps of bare limestone rocks that filled its bed.

Following the path still, he came upon a queer little cabin built of round logs, in the midst of a small garden-patch inclosed by a brush fence.

The stick chimney, daubed with clay and topped with a barrel open at both ends, made this a typical cabin.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN PEARSON] It flashed upon Ralph that this place must be Rocky Hollow, and that this was the house of old John Pearson, the one-legged basket-maker, and his rheumatic wife--the house that hospitably sheltered Shocky.
Following his impulse, he knocked and was admitted, and was not a little surprised to find Miss Martha Hawkins there before him.
"You here, Miss Hawkins ?" he said when he had returned Shocky's greeting and shaken hands with the old couple.
"Bless you, yes," said the old lady.