The wooden wheels of the poplar clock in the cabin were whirring for the striking of midnight, when their noise was overborne by the grotesque, unfamiliar honkings of an automobile horn. With the second of the three blasts, the cabin's door swung open, and in the light of it was silhouetted the tall form of Uncle Dick.
"Zeke!" he called; and his voice was a little broken.
Then, with instinctive delicacy of feeling, he stepped aside, as the young man sprang up the steps, and he stood silent, while mother and son were folded in each other's arms, murmuring endearments. But, when Zeke at last turned to face the old man, Uncle Dick's hand went out to a powerful clasp that told how profoundly he was moved.
"I'm glad ye've come, boy," he said, simply. And Zeke knew that the old distrust and suspicion were gone forever, and in their stead were come affection and faith.