that he had qualities in common with them,—a long line of ancestors who had lived by hunting.
Once, as they stopped the car to refill the radiator from a mountain stream, Lennox looked at him with sudden curiosity. "You are getting a thrill out of this, aren't you?" he asked wonderingly.
It was a curious tone. Perhaps it was a hopeful tone, too. He spoke as if he hardly understood.
"A thrill!" Dan echoed. He spoke as a man speaks in the presence of some great wonder. "Good Heavens, I never saw anything like it in my life."
"In this very stream," the mountaineer told him joyously, "you may occasionally catch trout that weigh three pounds."
But as he got back into the car, the look of interest died out of Lennox's eyes. Of course any man would be somewhat excited by his first glimpse of the wilderness. It was not that he had inherited any of the traits of his grandfather. It was absurd to hope that he had. And he would soon get tired of the silences and want to go back to his cities. He told his thought—that it would all soon grow old to him; and Dan turned almost in anger.
