THE TRAIL A curious strength seemed to have come to the man.

With almost steady hands he took down the photographs and the Sistine Madonna, packing them neatly away in a box to be left.

From beneath his bunk he dragged a large, dusty traveling-bag, and in this he stowed a little food, a few garments, and a great deal of the music scattered about the room.
David, in the doorway, stared in dazed wonder.

Gradually into his eyes crept a look never seen there before.
"Father, where are we going ?" he asked at last in a shaking voice, as he came slowly into the room.
"Back, son; we're going back." "To the village, where we get our eggs and bacon ?" "No, no, lad, not there.

The other way.