“Go on with your story,” replied Adam.
“Aha! That’s so. I want to make Two Palms Well before dark.... Wansfell, like a horned-toad on the desert, I changed my outside at Frisco. Alas! I imagined all within—blood—mind—soul had changed!... Went to Denver, St. Louis, an’ looked at the sights, not much disappointed, because my time seemed far ahead. Then I went to my old home. There I had my first jar. Folks all dead! Not a relation livin’. Could not even find my mother’s grave. No one remembered me an’ I couldn’t find any one I ever knew. The village had grown to a town. My old home was gone. The picture of it—the little gray cottage—the vines an’ orchard—lived in my mind. I found the place. All gone! Three new houses there. Forty years is a long time! I didn’t build the church or set out a
