He talked often now of the old home in the south land, and sometimes fell into the speech of other days, dropping, for a moment, the rougher expressions of his associates.

But all this was to Sammy alone.

To the world, there was no change in Jim, and he still went on his long rides with Wash Gibbs.

By fall, the place was fixed up a bit; the fence was rebuilt, the yard trimmed, and another room added to the cabin.
So the days slipped away over the wood fringed ridges.

The soft green of tree, and of bush, and grassy slope changed to brilliant gold, and crimson, and russet brown, while the gray blue haze that hangs always over the hollows took on a purple tone.