The Shepherd of the Hills ...................................................................................................................................1

Harold Bell Wright..................................................................................................................................1

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 3; SC. 3. .........................................................................................2

CHAPTER I. THE STRANGER. ...........................................................................................................2

CHAPTER II. SAMMY LANE. ............................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE VOICE FROM OUT THE MISTS. .....................................................................7

CHAPTER IV. A CHAT WITH AUNT MOLLIE. ...............................................................................9

CHAPTER V. "JEST NOBODY." ......................................................................................................12

CHAPTER VI. THE STORY. .............................................................................................................15

CHAPTER VII. WHAT IS LOVE? .....................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VIII. "WHY AIN'T WE GOT NO FOLKS." ...................................................................21

CHAPTER IX. SAMMY LANE'S FOLKS. ........................................................................................24

CHAPTER X. A FEAT OF STRENGTH AND A CHALLENGE. ....................................................26

CHAPTER XI. OLLIE STEWART'S GOODBY. ............................................................................30

CHAPTER XII. THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK. ......................................................................32

CHAPTER XIII. SAMMY LANE'S AMBITION. ..............................................................................35

CHAPTER XIV. THE COMMON YELLER KIND. ..........................................................................39

CHAPTER XV. THE PARTY AT FORD'S. .......................................................................................43

CHAPTER XVI. ON THE WAY HOME. ..........................................................................................46

CHAPTER XVII. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE RANCH. ...............................................................48

CHAPTER XVIII. LEARNING TO BE A LADY. .............................................................................53

CHAPTER XIX. THE DROUGHT. ....................................................................................................54

CHAPTER XX. THE SHEPHERD WRITES A LETTER. ................................................................56

CHAPTER XXI. GOD'S GOLD. ........................................................................................................58

CHAPTER XXII. A LETTER FROM OLLIE STEWART. ...............................................................59

CHAPTER XXIII. OLLIE COMES HOME. ......................................................................................61

CHAPTER XXIV. WHAT MAKES A MAN. ....................................................................................64

CHAPTER XXV. YOUNG MATT REMEMBERS. ..........................................................................67

CHAPTER XXVI. OLLIE'S DILEMMA. ...........................................................................................70

CHAPTER XXVII. THE CHAMPION. ..............................................................................................73

CHAPTER XXVIII. WHAT PETE TOLD SAMMY. ........................................................................76

CHAPTER XXIX. JIM LANE MAKES A PROMISE. .......................................................................78

CHAPTER XXX. SAMMY GRADUATES ........................................................................................80

CHAPTER XXXI. CASTLE BUILDING. ...........................................................................................81

CHAPTER XXXII. PREPARATION. .................................................................................................83

CHAPTER XXXIII. A RIDE IN THE NIGHT. ...................................................................................85

CHAPTER XXXIV. JIM LANE KEEPS HIS PROMISE. ..................................................................88

CHAPTER XXXV. "I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS." ......................................90

CHAPTER XXXVI. ANOTHER STRANGER ...................................................................................93

CHAPTER XXXVII. OLD FRIENDS. ................................................................................................97

CHAPTER XXXVIII. I AIN'T NOBODY NO MORE. .......................................................................99

CHAPTER XXXIX. A MATTER OF HOURS. ................................................................................103

CHAPTER XL. THE SHEPHERD'S MISSION. ...............................................................................104

CHAPTER XLI. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY. ...................................................................106

CHAPTER XLII. THE WAY OF THE LOWER TRAIL. .................................................................109

CHAPTER XLIII. POOR PETE. ........................................................................................................110

CHAPTER XLIV. THE TRAIL ON THE SUNLIT HILLS. .............................................................111

CHAPTER XLV. SOME YEARS LATER. .......................................................................................114

IT was cornplanting time, when the stranger followed the Old Trail into the Mutton Hollow neighborhood.

All day a fine rain had fallen steadily, and the mists hung heavy over the valley. The lower hills were

wrapped as in a winding sheet; dank and cold. The trees were dripping with moisture. The stranger looked

By his dress, the man was from the world beyond the ridges, and his carefully tailored clothing looked

strangely out of place in the mountain wilderness. His form stooped a little in the shoulders, perhaps with

weariness, but he carried himself with the unconscious air of one long used to a position of conspicuous

power and influence; and, while his wellkept hair and beard were strongly touched with white, the brown,

clear lighted eyes, that looked from under their shaggy brows, told of an intellect unclouded by the shadows

of many years. It was a face marked deeply by pride; pride of birth, of intellect, of culture; the face of a

scholar and poet; but it was moreit was the countenance of one fairly staggering under a burden of

As the stranger walked, he looked searchingly into the mists on every hand, and paused frequently as if

questioning the proper course. Suddenly he stepped quickly forward. His ear had caught the sharp ring of a

horse's shoe on a flint rock somewhere in the mists on the mountain side above. It was Jed Holland coming

down the trail with a week's supply of corn meal in a sack across his horse's back.

As the figure of the traveler emerged from the mists, the native checked his horse to greet the newcomer with

The man returned Jed's greeting cordially, and, resting his satchel on a rock beside the narrow path, added, "I

The voice was marvelously pure, deep, and musical, and, like the brown eyes, betrayed the real strength of

the man, denied by his gray hair and bent form. The tones were as different from the high keyed, slurring

speech of the backwoods, as the gentleman himself was unlike any man Jed had ever met. The boy looked at

the speaker in wideeyed wonder; he had a queer feeling that he was in the presence of a superior being.

Throwing one thin leg over the old mare's neck, and waving a long arm up the hill and to the left, Jed

drawled, "That thar's Dewey Bal'; down yonder's Mutton Holler." Then turning a little to the right and

pointing into the mist with the other hand, he continued, "Compton Ridge is over thar. Whar was you tryin' to

"Where am I trying to get to?" As the man repeated Jed's question, he drew his hand wearily across his brow;

"IIit doesn't much matter, boy. I suppose I must find some place where I can stay tonight. Do you live

"Nope," Jed answered, "Hit's a right smart piece to whar I live. This here's grindin' day, an' I've been t' mill

over on Fall Creek; the Matthews mill hit is. Hit'll be plumb dark 'gin I git home. I 'lowed you was a stranger

The other, looking back over the way he had come, seemed not to hear Jed's question, and the native

continued, "Mine's Holland. Pap an' Mam they come from Tennessee. Pap he's down in th' back now, an' ain't

right peart, but he'll be 'round in a little, I reckon. Preachin' Bill he 'lows hit's good fer a feller t' be down in th'

back onct in a while; says if hit warn't fer that we'd git to standin' so durned proud an' straight we'd go plumb

A bitter smile crossed the face of the older man. He evidently applied the native's philosophy in a way

unguessed by Jed. "Very true, very true, indeed," he mused. Then he turned to Jed, and asked, "Is there a

"I 'lowed maybe you'd heard tell o' Jim or Sammy. There's them that 'lows Jim knows a heap more 'bout old

man Dewey's cave than he lets on; his place bein' so nigh. Reckon you know 'bout Colonel Dewey, him th'

Bal' up thar's named fer? Maybe you come t' look fer the big mine they say's in th' cave? I'll hep you hunt hit,

"No," said the other, "I am not looking for mines of lead or zinc; there is greater wealth in these hills and

"Law, you don't say! Jim Wilson allus 'lowed thar must be gold in these here mountains, 'cause they're so dad

burned rough. Lemme hep you, Mister. I'd like mighty well t' git some clothes like them."

"I do not speak of gold, my boy," the stranger answered kindly. "But I must not keep you longer, or darkness

Jed pushed a hand up under his tattered old hat, and scratched awhile before he answered, "Don't know 'bout

th' entertainin', Mister, but 'most anybody would take you in." He turned and looked thoughtfully up the trail.

"I don't guess Jim's to home though; 'cause I see'd Sammy a fixin' t' go over t' th' Matthews's when I come

There was a hint of impatience now in the deep voice. "No, I told you that I had never been in these

Jed, who was still looking up the trail, suddenly leaned forward, and, pointing into the timber to the left of the

path, said in an exciting whisper, "Look at that, Mister; yonder thar by that big rock."

The stranger, looking, thought he saw a form, weird and ghostlike in the mist, flitting from tree to tree, but,

even as he looked, it vanished among the hundreds of fantastic shapes in the gray forest. "What is it?" he

The native shook his head. "Durned if I know, Mister. You can't tell. There's mighty strange things stirrin' on

this here mountain, an' in the Holler down yonder. Say, Mister, did you ever see a hant?"

"A hant, a ghost, some calls 'em," explained Jed. "Bud Wilson he sure seed old Matt's"

The other interrupted. "Really, young man, I must go. It is already late, and you know I have yet to find a

"Law, that's alright, Mister!" replied Jed. "Ain't no call t' worry. Stay anywhere. Whar do you live when

Again Jed's question was ignored. "You think then that Mr. Matthews will keep me?"

"Law, yes! They'll take anybody in. I know they're to home 'cause they was a fixin' t' leave the mill when I

left 'bout an hour ago. Was the river up much when you come acrost?" As the native spoke he was still

"I did not cross the river. How far is it to this Matthews place, and how do I go?"

"Jest foller this Old Trail. Hit'll take you right thar. Good road all th' way. 'Bout three mile, I'd say. Did you

The man lifted his satchel from the rock as he answered: "No, I do not live in either Springfield or St. Louis.

Thank you, very much, for your assistance. I will go on, now, for I must hurry, or night will overtake me, and

"Oh, hit's a heap lighter when you git up on th' hill 'bove th' fog," said Jed, lowering his leg from the horse's

neck, and settling the meal sack, preparatory to moving. "But I'd a heap rather hit was you than me a goin' up

on Dewey t'night." He was still looking up the trail. "Reckon you must be from Kansas City or Chicago? I

The stranger's only answer was a curt "Goodby," as his form vanished in the mist.

Jed turned and dug his heels vigorously in the old mare's flanks, as he ejaculated softly, "Well, I'll be dod

Slowly the old man toiled up the mountain; up from the mists of the lower ground to the ridge above; and, as

he climbed, unseen by him, a shadowy form flitted from tree to tree in the dim, dripping forest.

As the stranger came in sight of the Lane cabin, a young woman on a brown pony rode out of the gate and up

the trail before him; and when the man reached the open ground on the mountain above, and rounded the

shoulder of the hill, he saw the pony, far ahead, loping easily along the little path. A moment he watched, and

The clouds were drifting far away. The western sky was clear with the sun still above the hills. In an old tree

that leaned far out over the valley, a crow shook the wet from his plumage and dried himself in the warm

light; while far below the mists rolled, and on the surface of that gray sea, the traveler saw a company of

Wearily the man followed the Old Trail toward the Matthews place, and always, as he went, in the edge of

PREACHIN' BILL, says, "Hit's a plumb shame there ain't more men in th' world built like old man Matthews

and that thar boy o' his'n. Men like them ought t' be as common as th' other kind, an' would be too if folks

cared half as much 'bout breeding folks as they do 'bout raising hogs an' horses."

Mr. Matthews was a giant. Fully six feet four inches in height, with big bones, broad shoulders, and mighty

muscles. At log rollings and chopping bees, in the field or at the mill, or in any of the games in which the

backwoodsman tries his strength, no one had ever successfully contested his place as the strongest man in the

hills. And still, throughout the country side, the old folks tell with pride tales of the marvelous feats of

Of the son, "Young Matt," the people called him, it is enough to say that he seemed made of the same metal

and cast in the same mold as the father; a mighty frame, softened yet by young manhood's grace; a powerful

neck and well poised head with wavy redbrown hair; and blue eyes that had in them the calm of summer

skies or the glint of battle steel. It was a countenance fearless and frank, but gentle and kind, and the eyes

Anyone meeting the pair, as they walked with the long swinging stride of the mountaineer up the steep mill

road that gray afternoon, would have turned for a second look; such men are seldom seen.

When they reached the big log house that looks down upon the Hollow, the boy went at once with his axe to

the woodpile, while the older man busied himself with the milking and other chores about the barn.

Young Matt had not been chopping long when he heard, coming up the hill, the sound of a horse's feet on the

Old Trail. The horse stopped at the house and a voice, that stirred the blood in the young man's veins, called,

Mrs. Matthews appeared in the doorway; by her frank countenance and kindly look anyone would have

known her at a glance as the boy's mother. "Land sakes, if it ain't Sammy Lane! How are you, honey?"

"I am alright," answered the voice; "I've come over t' stop with you tonight; Dad's away again; Mandy Ford

staid with me last night, but she had to go home this evenin'." The big fellow at the woodpile drove his axe

"It's about time you was a comin' over," replied the woman in the doorway; "I was a tellin' the menfolks this

mornin' that you hadn't been nigh the whole blessed week. Mr. Matthews 'lowed maybe you was sick."

The other returned with a gay laugh, "I was never sick a minute in my life that anybody ever heard tell. I'm

powerful hungry, though. You'd better put in another pan of corn bread." She turned her pony's head toward

"Seems like you are always hungry," laughed the older woman, in return. "Well just go on out to the barn,

and the men will take your horse; then come right in and I'll mighty soon have something to fill you up."

Operations at the woodpile suddenly ceased and Young Matt was first at the barnyard gate.

Miss Sammy Lane was one of those rare young women whose appearance is not to be described. One can, of

course, put it down that she was tall; beautifully tall, with the trimness of a young pine, deep bosomed, with

limbs fullrounded, fairly tingling with the life and strength of perfect womanhood; and it may be said that

her face was a face to go with one through the years, and to live still in one's dreams when the sap of life is

gone, and, withered and old, one sits shaking before the fire; a generous, loving mouth, red lipped, full

arched, with the corners tucked in and perfect teeth between; a womanly chin and nose, with character

enough to save them from being pretty; hair dark, showing a touch of gold with umber in the shadows; a

brow, full broad, set over brown eyes that had never been taught to hide behind their fringed veils, but looked

always square out at you with a healthy look of good comradeship, a gleam of mirth, or a sudden, wide,

But what is the use? When all this is written, those who knew Sammy will say, "'Tis but a poor picture, for

she is something more than all this." Uncle Ike, the postmaster at the Forks, did it much better when he said

to "Preachin' Bill," the night of the "Doin's" at the Cove School, "Ba thundas! That gal o' Jim Lane's jest

plumb fills th' whole house. What! An' when she comes a ridin' up t' th' office on that brown pony o' hern, I'll

be dad burned if she don't pretty nigh fill th' whole out doors, ba thundas! What!" And the little shrivelled up

old hillsman, who keeps the ferry, removed his cob pipe long enough to reply, with all the emphasis possible

to his squeaky voice, "She sure do, Ike. She sure do. I've often thought hit didn't look jest fair fer God

'lmighty t' make sech a woman 'thout ary man t' match her. Makes me feel plumb 'shamed o' myself t' stand

"I've been a lookin' for you over," said Sammy, a teasing light in her eyes. "Didn't you know that Mandy was

"I'm mighty sorry," he replied, fastening the gate and coming to the pony's side. "Why didn't you tell me

before? I reckon she'll get over it alright, though," he added with a smile, as he raised his arms to assist the

The teasing light vanished as the young woman placed her hands on the powerful shoulders of the giant, and

as she felt the play of the swelling muscles that swung her to the ground so easily, her face flushed with

admiration. For the fraction of a minute she stood facing him, her hands still on his arms, her lips parted as if

to speak; then she turned quickly away, and without a word walked toward the house, while the boy,

When the girl was gone, the big fellow led the horse away to the stable, where he crossed his arms upon the

saddle and hid his face from the light. Mr. Matthews coming quietly to the door a few minutes later saw the

boy standing there, and the rugged face of the big mountaineer softened at the sight. Quietly he withdrew to

the other side of the barn, to return later when the saddle and bridle had been removed, and the young man

The elder man laid his hand on the broad shoulder of the lad so like him, and looked full into the clear eyes.

"Is it alright, son?" he asked gruffly; and the boy answered, as he returned his father's look, "It's alright, Dad."

Just as the little company were seating themselves at the table, the dog in the yard barked loudly. Young Matt

went to the door. The stranger, whom Jed had met on the Old Trail, stood at the gate.

WHILE Young Matt was gone to the corral in the valley to see that the sheep were safely folded for the night,

and the two women were busy in the house with their aftersupper work, Mr. Matthews and his guest sat on

"My name is Howitt, Daniel Howitt," the man said in answer to the host's question. But, as he spoke, there

was in his manner a touch of embarrassment, and he continued quickly as if to prevent further question, "You

have two remarkable children, sir; that boy is the finest specimen of manhood I have ever seen, and the girl is

remarkableremarkable, sir. You will pardon me, I am sure, but I am an enthusiastic lover of my kind, and I

The grim face of the elder Matthews showed both pleasure and amusement. "You're mistaken, Mister; the

boy's mine alright, an' he's all that you say, an' more, I reckon. I doubt if there's a man in the hills can match

him today; not excepting Wash Gibbs; an' he's a mighty good boy, too. But the girl is a daughter of a

The amused smile left the face of the old mountaineer, as he answered slowly, "There was six boys, sir; this

one, Grant, is the youngest. The others lie over there." He pointed with his pipe to where a clump of pines,

not far from the house, showed dark and tall, against the last red glow in the sky.

The stranger glanced at the big man's face in quick sympathy. "I had only two; a boy and a girl," he said

softly. "The girl and her mother have been gone these twenty years. The boy grew to be a man, and now he

has left me." The deep voice faltered. "Pardon me, sir, for speaking of this, but my lad was so like your boy

There is a bond of fellowship in sorrow that knows no conventionalities. As the two men sat in the hush of

the coming night, their faces turned toward the somber group of trees, they felt strongly drawn to one another.

The mountaineer's companion spoke again half to himself; "I wish that my dear ones had a resting place like

that. In the crowded city cemetery the ground is always shaken by the tramping of funeral professions." He

For some time the stranger sat thus, while his host spoke no word. Then lifting his head, the man looked

away over the ridges just touched with the lingering light, and the valley below wrapped in the shadowy

mists. "I came away from it all because they said I must, and because I was hungry for this." He waved his

hand toward the glowing sky and the forest clad hills. "This is good for me; it somehow seems to help me

know how big God is. One could find peace heresurely, sir, one could find it herepeace and strength."

The mountaineer puffed hard at his pipe for a while, then said gruffly, "Seems that way, Mister, to them that

don't know. But many's the time I've wished to God I'd never seen these here Ozarks. I used to feel like you

do, but I can't no more. They 'mind me now of him that blackened my life; he used to take on powerful about

the beauty of the country and all the time he was a turnin' it into a hell for them that had to stay here after he

As he spoke, anger and hatred grew dark in the giant's face, and the stranger saw the big hands clench and the

huge frame grow tense with passion. Then, as if striving to be not ungracious, the woodsman said in a

somewhat softer tone, "You can't see much of it, this evening, though, 'count of the mists. It'll fair up by

"Yes, indeed," replied Mr. Howitt, in an odd tone. "One could see far from here, I am sure. We, who live in

the cities, see but a little farther than across the street. We spend our days looking at the work of our own and

our neighbors' hands. Small wonder our lives have so little of God in them, when we come in touch with so

"You live in the city, then, when you are at home?" asked Mr. Matthews, looking curiously at his guest.

Old Matt leaned forward in his chair as if to speak again; then paused; someone was coming up the hill; and

soon they distinguished the stalwart form of the son. Sammy coming from the house with an empty bucket

In silence the men on the porch watched the moon as she slowly pushed her way up through the leafy screen

on the mountain wall. Higher and higher she climbed until her rays fell into the valley below, and the drifting

mists from ridge to ridge became a sea of ghostly light. It was a weird scene, almost supernatural in its

Then from down at the spring a young girl's laugh rose clearly, and the big mountaineer said in a low tone,

"Mr. Howitt, you've got education; it's easy to see that; I've always wanted to ask somebody like you, do you

believe in hants? Do you reckon folks ever come back once they're dead and gone?"

The man from the city saw that his big host was terribly in earnest, and answered quietly, "No, I do not

believe in such things, Mr. Matthews; but if it should be true, I do not see why we should fear the dead."

The other shook his head; "I don't knowI don't know, sir; I always said I didn't believe, but some things is

mighty queer." He seemed to be shaping his thought for further speech, when again the girl's laugh rang clear

The mountaineer relighted his pipe, while Young Matt and Sammy seated themselves on the step, and Mrs.

"We've just naturally got to find somebody to stay with them sheep, Dad," said the son; "there ain't nobody

there tonight, and as near as I can make out there's three ewes and their lambs missing. There ain't a bit of

"I'll ride over on Bear Creek tomorrow, and see if I can get that fellow Buck told us about," returned the

"Yes, sir, we do," answered Old Matt. "We had a good 'nough man 'till about a month ago; since then we've

been gettin' along the best we could. But with some a stayin' out on the range, an' not comin' in, an' the

wolves a gettin' into the corral at night, we'll lose mighty nigh all the profits this year. The worst of it is, there

ain't much show to get a man; unless that one over on Bear Creek will come. I reckon, though, he'll be like

"Difficult, no; there ain't nothing to do but tendin' to the sheep. The man has to stay at the ranch of nights,

Mr. Howitt was wondering what staying at the ranch nights could have to do with the difficulty, when, up

from the valley below, from out the darkness and the mists, came a strange sound; a sound as if someone

were singing a song without words. So wild and weird was the melody; so passionately sweet the voice, it

seemed impossible that the music should come from human lips. It was more as though some genie of the

forestclad hills wandered through the mists, singing as he went with the joy of his possessions.

Mrs. Matthews came close to her husband's side, and placed her hand upon his shoulder as he half rose from

his chair, his pipe fallen to the floor. Young Matt rose to his feet and moved closer to the girl, who was also

standing. The stranger alone kept his seat and he noted the agitation of the others in wonder.

For some moments the sound continued, now soft and low, with the sweet sadness of the wind in the pines;

then clear and ringing, it echoed and reechoed along the mountain; now pleadings, as though a soul in

darkness prayed a gleam of light; again rising, swelling exultingly, as in glad triumph, only to die away once

Slowly Old Matt sank back into his seat and the stranger heard him mutter, "Poor boy, poor boy." Aunt

Mollie was weeping. Suddenly Sammy sprang from the steps and running down the walk to the gate sent a

clear, piercing call over the valley: "Ohh, Pete." The group on the porch listened intently. Again the girl

"It's no use, honey," said Mrs. Matthews, breaking the silence; "it just ain't no use;" and the young girl came

WHEN the stranger looked from his window the next morning, the valley was still wrapped in its gray

blanket. But when he and his host came from the house after breakfast, the sun had climbed well above the

ridge, and, save a long, loosely twisted rope of fog that hung above the distant river, the mists were gone. The

As they stood watching the sheepwhite specks in the distanceclimbing out of the valley where the long

shadows still lay, to the higher, sunlit pastures, Mr. Matthews said, "We've all been a talkin' about you this

mornin', Mr. Howitt, and we'd like mighty well to have you stop with us for a spell. If I understood right,

you're just out for your health anyway, and you'll go a long ways, sir, before you find a healthier place than

this right here. We ain't got much such as you're used to, I know, but what we have is yourn, and we'd be

proud to have you make yourself to home for as long as you'd like to stay. You see it's been a good while

since we met up with anybody like you, and we count it a real favor to have you."

Mr. Howitt accepted the invitation with evident pleasure, and, soon after, the mountaineer rode away to Bear

Creek, on his quest for a man to herd sheep. Young Matt had already gone with his team to the field on the

hillside west of the house, and the brown pony stood at the gate ready for Sammy Lane to return to her home

"I'd like the best in the world to stay, Aunt Mollie," she said, in answer to Mrs. Matthews' protest; "but you

know there is no one to feed the stock, and besides Mandy Ford will be back sometime today."

The older woman's arm was around the girl as they went down the walk. "You must come over real often,

now, honey; you know it won't he long 'til you'll be a leavin' us for good. How do you reckon you'll like bein'

The girl's face flushed, and her eyes had that wide questioning look, as she answered slowly, "I don't know,

Aunt Mollie; I ain't never seen a sure 'nough fine lady; I reckon them city folks are a heap different from us,

but I reckon they're just as human. It would be nice to have lots of money and pretties, but somehow I feel

like there's a heap more than that to think about. Any how," she added brightly, "I ain't goin' for quite a spell

yet, and you know 'Preachin' Bill' says, 'There ain't no use to worry 'bout the choppin' 'til the dogs has treed

Mrs. Matthews kissed the girl, and then, standing at the gate, watched until pony and rider had disappeared in

Later Aunt Mollie, with a woman's fondness for a quiet chat, brought the potatoes she was preparing for

dinner, to sit with Mr. Howitt on the porch. "I declare I don't know what we'll do without Sammy," she said;

The guest, feeling that some sort of a reply was expected, asked, "Is the family moving from the

"No, sir, there ain't no family to move. Just Sammy and her Pa, and Jim Lane won't never leave this country

again. You see Ollie Stewart's uncle, his father's brother it is, ain't got no children of his own, and he wrote

for Ollie to come and live with him in the city. He's to go to school and learn the business, foundry and

machine shops, or something like that it is; and if the boy does what's right, he's to get it all some day; Ollie

and Sammy has been promised ever since the talk first began about his goin'; but they'll wait now until he

gets through his schoolin'. It'll be mighty nice for Sammy, marryin' Ollie, but we'll miss her awful; the whole

country will miss her, too. She's just the life of the neighborhood, and everybody 'lows there never was

another girl like her. Poor child, she ain't had no mother since she was a little trick, and she has always come

to me for everything like, us bein' such close neighbors, and all. But law! sir, I ain't a blamin' her a mite for

Again the man felt called upon to express his interest; "Is Mr. Lane in business with this man Gibbs?"

"Law, no! that is, don't nobody know about any business; I reckon it's all on account of those old Bald

Knobbers; they used to hold their meetin's on top of Dewey yonder, and folks do say a man was burned there

once, because he told some of their secrets. Well, Jim and Wash's daddy, and Wash, all belonged, 'though

Wash himself wasn't much more than a boy then; and when the government broke up the gang, old man

Gibbs was killed, and Jim went to Texas. It was there that Sammy's Ma died. When Jim come back it wasn't

long before he was mighty thick again with Wash and his crowd down on the river, and he's been that way

ever since. There's them that says it's the same old gang, what's left of them, and some thinks too that Jim and

Mr. Howitt, remembering his conversation with Jed Holland, asked encouragingly, "Is this mine a very rich

"Don't nobody rightly know about that, sir," answered Aunt Mollie. "This is how it was: away back when the

Injuns was makin' trouble 'cause the government was movin' them west to the territory, this old man Dewey

lived up there somewhere on that mountain. He was a mighty queer old fellow; didn't mix up with the settlers

at all, except Uncle Josh Hensley's boy who wasn't right smart, and didn't nobody know where he come from

nor nothing; but all the same, 'twas him that warned the settlers of the trouble, and helped them all through it,

scoutin' and such. And one time when they was about out of bullets and didn't have nothin' to make more out

of, Colonel Dewey took a couple of men and some mules up on that mountain yonder in the night, and when

they got back they was just loaded down with lead, but he wouldn't tell nobody where he got it, and as long as

he was with them, the men didn't dare tell. Well, sir, them two men was killed soon after by the Injuns, and

when the trouble was finally over, old Dewey disappeared, and ain't never been heard tell of since. They say

the mine is somewhere's in a big cave, but nobody ain't never found it, 'though there's them that says the Bald

Knobbers used the cave to hide their stuff in, and that's how Jim Lane and Wash Gibbs knows where it is; it's

all mighty queer. You can see for yourself that Lost Creek down yonder just sinks clean out of sight all at

Aunt Mollie pointed with her knife to the little stream that winds like a thread of light down into the Hollow.

"I tell you, sir, these hills is pretty to look at, but there ain't much here for a girl like Sammy, and I don't

blame her a mite for wantin' to leave. It's a mighty hard place to live, Mr. Howitt, and dangerous, too,

"The city has its hardships and its dangers too, Mrs. Matthews; life there demands almost too much at times; I

"I guess that's so," replied Aunt Mollie, "but it don't seem like it could be so hard as it is here. I tell Mr.

Matthews we've clean forgot the ways of civilized folks; altogether, though, I suppose we've done as well as

The old scholar looked at the sturdy figure in its plain calico dress; at the worn hands, busy with their homely

task; and the patient, kindly face, across which time had ploughed many a furrow, in which to plant the seeds

of character and worth. He thought of other women who had sat with him on hotel verandas, at fashionable

watering places; women gowned in silks and laces; women whose soft hands knew no heavier task than the

filmy fancy work they toyed with, and whose greatest care, seemingly, was that time should leave upon their

faces no record of the passing years. "And this is the stuff," said he to himself, "that makes possible the

civilization that produces them." Aloud, he said, "Do you ever talk of going back to your old home?"

"No, sir, not now;" she rested her wet hands idly on the edge of the pan of potatoes, and turned her face

toward the clump of pines. "We used to think we'd go back sometime; seemed like at first I couldn't stand it;

then the children come, and every time we laid one of them over there I thought less about leavin', until now

we never talk about it no more. Then there was our girl, too, Mr. Howitt. No, sir, we won't never leave these

"Oh, you had a daughter, too? I understood from Mr. Matthews that your children were all boys."

Aunt Mollie worked a few moments longer in silence, then arose and turned toward the house. "Yes, sir, there

was a girl; she's buried under that biggest pine you see off there a little to one side. Wewedon't never

talk about her. Mr. Matthews can't stand it. Seems like he ain't never been the same sincesinceit

happened. 'Tain't natural for him to be so rough and short; he's just as good and kind inside as any man ever

was or could be. He's real taken with you, Mr. Howitt, and I'm mighty glad you're goin' to stop a spell, for it

will do him good. If it hadn't been for Sammy Lane runnin' in every day or two, I don't guess he could have

stood it at all. I sure don't know what we'll do now that she's goin' away. Then there'sthere'sthat at the

ranch in Mutton Hollow; but I guess I'd better not try to tell you about that. I wish Mr. Matthews would,

though; maybe he will. You know so much more than us; I know most you could help us or tell us about

AFTER the midday meal, while walking about the place, Mr. Howitt found a well worn path; it led him to the

group of pines not far from the house, where five rough head stones marked the five mounds placed side by

Beneath the pines the needles made a carpet, firm and smooth, figured by the wild woodbine that clambered

over the graves; moss had gathered on the head stones, and the wind, in the dark branches above, moaned

ceaselessly. About the little plot of ground a rustic fence of poles was built, and the path led to a stile by

The stranger seated himself upon the rude steps. Below and far away he saw the low hills, rolling ridge on

ridge like the waves of a great sea, until in the blue distance they were so lost in the sky that he could not say

which was mountain and which was cloud. His poet heart was stirred at sight of the vast reaches of the forest

all shifting light and shadows; the cool depths of the nearby woods with the sunlight filtering through the

leafy arches in streaks and patches of gold on green; and the wide, wide sky with fleets of cloud ships sailing

The man sat very still, and as he looked the worn face changed; once, as if at some pleasing memory, he

smiled. A gray squirrel with bright eyes full of curious regard peeped over the limb of an oak; a red bird

hopping from bush to bush whistled to his mate; and a bobwhite's quick call came from a nearby thicket.

The dreamer was aroused at last by the musical tinkle of a bell. He turned his face toward the sound, but

could see nothing. The bell was coming nearer; it came nearer still. Then he saw here and there through the

trees small, moving patches of white; an old ewe followed by two lambs came from behind a clump of

bushes, and the moving patches of white shaped themselves into other sheep feeding in the timber.

Mr. Howitt sat quite still, and, while the old ewe paused to look at him, the lambs took advantage of the

opportunity, until their mother was satisfied with her inspection, and by moving on, upset them. Soon the

whole flock surrounded him, and, after the first lingering look of inquiry, paid no heed to his presence.

Then from somewhere among the trees came the quick, low bark of a dog. The man looked carefully in every

direction; be could see nothing but the sheep, yet he felt himself observed. Again came the short bark; and

this time a voicea girl's voice, Mr. Howitt thoughtsaid, "It's alright, Brave; go on, brother." And from

behind a big rock not far away a shepherd dog appeared, followed by a youth of some fifteen years.

He was a lightly built boy; a bit tall for his age, perhaps, but perfectly erect; and his every movement was one

of indescribable grace, while he managed, somehow, to wear his rough backwoods garments with an air of

distinction as remarkable as it was charming. The face was finely molded, almost girlish, with the large gray

eyes, and its frame of yellow, golden hair. It was a sad face when in repose, yet wonderfully responsive to

every passing thought and mood. But the eyes, with their strange expression, and shifting light, proclaimed

As the boy came forward in a shy, hesitating way, an expression of amazement and wonder crept into the

stranger's face; he left his seat and started forward. "Howard," he said; "Howard."

"That ain't his name, Mister; his name's Pete," returned the youth, in low, soft tones.

In the voice and manner of the lad, no less than in his face and eyes, Mr. Howitt read his story.

The dog lifted his head and looked into the man's face, while his tail wagged a joyful greeting, and, as the

man stooped to pat the animal and speak a few kind words, a beautiful smile broke over the delicate features

of the youth. Throwing himself upon the ground, he cried, "Come here, Brave"; and taking the dog's face

between his hands, said in confidential tones, ignoring Mr. Howitt's presence, "He's a good man, ain't he,

brother?" The dog answered with wagging tail. "We sure like him, don't we?" The dog gave a low bark.

"Listen, Brave, listen." He lifted his face to the tree tops, then turned his ear to the ground, while the dog, too,

seemed to hearken. Again that strange smile illuminated his face; "Yes, yes, Brave, we sure like him. And the

tree things like him, too, brother; and the flowers, the little flower things that know everything; they're all a

singin' to Pete 'cause he's come. Did you see the flower things in his eyes, and hear the tree things a talkin' in

his voice, Brave? And see, brother, the sheep like him too!" Pointing toward the stranger, he laughed aloud.

The old ewe had come quite close to the man, and one of the lambs was nibbling at his trousers' leg.

Mr. Howitt seated himself on the stile again, and the dog, released by the youth, came to lie down at his feet;

while the boy seemed to forget his companions, and appeared to be listening to voices unheard by them, now

The old man looked long and thoughtfully at the youth, his own face revealing a troubled mind. This then

was Pete, Poor Pete. "Howard," whispered the man; "the perfect image;" then again he said, half aloud,

The boy turned his face and smiled; "That ain't his name, Mister; his name's Pete. Pete seen you yesterday

over on Dewey, and Pete he heard the big hills and the woods a singin' when you talked. But Jed he didn't

hear. Jed he don't hear nothin' but himself; he can't. But Pete he heard and all Pete's people, too. And the gray

mist things come out and danced along the mountain, 'cause they was so glad you come. And Pete went with

you along the Old Trail. Course, though, you didn't know. Do you like Pete's people, Mister?" He waved his

hands to include the forest, the mountains and the sky; and there was a note of anxiety in the sweet voice as

"Yes, indeed, I like your friends," replied Mr. Howitt, heartily; "and I would like to be your friend too, if you

The delicate face grew sad: "No, no, no," he said in a low moaning tone; "I'm not Pete; Pete, he lives in here;"

he touched himself on the breast. "I amI am" A look of hopeless bewilderment crept into his eyes; "I

don't know who I am; I'm jest nobody. Nobody can't have no name, can he?" He stood with downcast head;

then suddenly he raised his face and the shadows lifted, as he said, "But Pete he knows, Mister, ask Pete."

Instantly the brightness vanished; again the words were a puzzled moan; "I ain't got no father, Mister; I ain't

The other spoke quickly; "But Pete had a father; who was Pete's father?" Instantly the gloom was gone and

the face was bright again. "Sure, Mister, Pete's got a father; don't you know? Everybody knows that. Look!"

He pointed upward to a break in the trees, to a large cumulus cloud that had assumed a fantastic shape. "He

lives in them white hills, up there. See him, Mister? Sometimes he takes Pete with him up through the sky,

and course I go along. We sail, and sail, and sail, with the big bird things up there, while the sky things sing;

and sometimes we play with the cloud things, all day in them white hills. Pete says he'll take me away up

there where the star things live, some day, and we won't never come back again; and I won't be nobody no

more; and Aunt Mollie says she reckons Pete knows. 'Course, I'd hate mighty much to go away from Uncle

Matt and Aunt Mollie and Matt and Sammy, 'cause they're mighty good to me; but I jest got to go where Pete

The stranger was fascinated by the wonderful charm of the boy's manner and words. As the lad's sensitive

face glowed or was clouded by each wayward thought, and the music of his sweet voice rose and fell, Mr.

Howitt told himself that one might easily fancy the child some wandering spirit of the woods and hills.

The youth nodded toward the big pine that grew to one side of the group, and, lowering his voice, replied,

"No, no, not there; there!" He pointed up to the big tree, itself. "She never sleeps; don't you hear her?" He

paused. The wind moaned through the branches of the pine. Drawing closer to the stranger's side, the boy

whispered, "She always talks that a way; always, and it makes Pete feel bad. She wants somebody. Hear her

callin', callin', callin'? He'll sure come some day, Mister; he sure will. Say, do you know where he is?"

The stranger, startled, drew back; "No, no, my boy, certainly not; what do you mean; who are you?"

Like the moaning of the pines came the reply, "Nothin', Mister, nobody can't mean nothin', can they? I'm jest

"Is Pete watching the sheep?" asked Mr. Howitt, anxious to divert the boy's mind to other channels.

"Yes, we're a tendin' 'em now; but they can't trust us, you know; when they call Pete, he just goes, and course

"Why, they, don't you know? I 'lowed you knowed about things. They called Pete last night. The moonlight

things was out, and all the shadow things; didn't you see them, Mister? The moonlight things, the wind, the

stars, the shadow things, and all the rest played with Pete in the shiny mists, and, course, I was along. Didn't

you hear singin'? Pete he always sings that a way, when the moonlight things is out. Seems like he just can't

The boy shook his head sadly; "Sometimes they get so lost that Young Matt can't never find 'em; sometimes

wolves get 'em; it's too bad, Mister, it sure is." Then laughing aloud, he clapped his hands; "There was a feller

at the ranch to keep 'em, but he didn't stay; Ho! Ho! he didn't stay, you bet he didn't. Pete didn't like him,

Brave didn't like him, nothing didn't like him, the trees wouldn't talk when he was around, the flowers died

when he looked at 'em, and the birds all stopped singin' and went away over the mountains. He didn't stay,

"Why did the man go?" asked Mr. Howitt, thinking to solve a part of the mystery, at least. But the only

Later when the stranger returned to the house, Pete went with him; at the big gate they met Mr. Matthews,

The lad went with glad face to the giant mountaineer. It was clear that the two were the warmest friends.

"Pete's mighty glad today, 'cause he's come." He pointed to Mr. Howitt. "Does Pete like him?"

The boy nodded. "All Pete's people like him. Ask him to keep the sheep, Uncle Matt. He won't be scared at

Mr. Matthews smiled, as he turned to his guest. "Pete never makes a mistake in his judgment of men, Mr.

Howitt. He's different from us ordinary folks, as you can see; but in some things he knows a heap more. I'm

mighty glad he's took up with you, sir. All day I've been thinking I'd tell you about some things I don't like to

talk about; I feel after last night like you'd understand, maybe, and might help me, you having education. But

still I've been a little afraid, us being such strangers. I know I'm right now, 'cause Pete says so. If you weren't

That night the mountaineer told the stranger from the city the story that I have put down in the next chapter.

SLOWLY the big mountaineer filled his cob pipe with strong, home grown tobacco, watching his guest

keenly the while, from under heavy brows. Behind the dark pines the sky was blood red, and below, Mutton

When his pipe was lighted, Old Matt said, "Well, sir, I reckon you think some things you seen and heard

since you come last night are mighty queer. I ain't sayin', neither, but what you got reasons for thinkin' so."

Mr. Howitt made no reply. And, after puffing a few moments in silence, the other continued, "If it weren't for

what you said last night makin' me feel like I wanted to talk to you, and Pete a takin' up with you the way he

has, I wouldn't be a tellin' you what I am goin' to now. There's some trails, Mr. Howitt, that ain't pleasant to

go back over. I didn't 'low to ever go over this one again. Did you and Pete talk much this afternoon?"

In a few words Mr. Howitt told of his meeting with the strange boy, and their conversation. When he had

finished, the big man smoked in silence. It was as if he found it hard to begin. From a tree on the mountain

side below, a screech owl sent up his long, quavering call; a bat darted past in the dusk; and away over on

Compton Ridge a hound bayed. The mountaineer spoke; "That's Sam Wilson's dog, Ranger; must a' started a

"Our folks all live back in Illinois. And if I do say so, they are as good stock as you'll find anywhere. But

there was a lot of us, and I always had a notion to settle in a new country where there was more room like and

land wasn't so dear; so when wife and I was married we come out here. I recollect we camped at the spring

below Jim Lane's cabin on yon side of Old Dewey, there. That was before Jim was married, and a wild young

buck he was too, as ever you see. The next day wife and I rode along the Old Trail 'til we struck this gap, and

"We've had our ups and downs like most folks, sir, and sometimes it looked like they was mostly downs; but

we got along, and last fall I bought in the ranch down there in the Hollow. The boy was just eighteen and we

thought then that he'd be makin' his home there some day. I don't know how that'll be now, but there was

"There was five other boys, as I told you last night. The oldest two would have been men now. The girl"his

voice broke"the girl she come third; she was twenty when we buried her over there. That was fifteen year

"Everybody 'lowed she was a mighty pretty baby, and, bein' the only girl, I reckon we made more of her than

we did of the boys. She growed up into a mighty fine young woman too; strong, and full of fire and go, like

Sammy Lane. Seems to wife and me when Sammy's 'round that it's our own girl come back and we've always

hoped that she and Grant would take the ranch down yonder; but I reckon that's all over, now that Ollie

Stewart has come into such a fine thing in the city. Anyway, it ain't got nothing to do with this that I'm a

"She didn't seem to care nothin' at all for none of the neighbor boys like most girls do; she'd go with them and

have a good time alright, but that was all. 'Peared like she'd rather be with her brothers or her mother or me.

"Well, one day, when we was out on the range a ridin' for stockshe'd often go with me that waywe met a

stranger over there at the deer lick in the big low gap, coming along the Old Trail. He was as fine a lookin'

man as you ever see, sir; big and grand like, with lightish hair, kind, of wavy, and a big mustache like his

hair, and fine white teeth showing when he smiled. He was sure good lookin', damn him! and with his fine

store clothes and a smooth easy way of talkin' and actin' he had, 'tain't no wonder she took up with him. We

all did. I used to think God never made a finer body for a man. I know now that Hell don't hold a meaner

heart than the one in that same fine body. And that's somethin' that bothers me a heap, Mr. Howitt.

"As I say, our girl was built like Sammy Lane, and so far as looks go she was his dead match. I used to

wonder when I'd look at them together if there ever was such another fine lookin' pair. I ain't a goin' to tell

you his name; there ain't no call to, as I can see. There might be some decent man named the same. But he

was one of these here artist fellows and had come into the hills to paint, he said."

Mr. Matthews, not noticing, continued: "He sure did make a lot of pictures and they seemed mighty nice to

us, 'though of course we didn't know nothin' about such things. There was one big one he made of Maggie

that was as natural as life. He was always drawin' of her in one way or another, and had a lot of little pictures

that didn't amount to much, and that he didn't never finish. But this big one he worked at off and on all

summer. It was sure fine, with her a standin' by the ranch spring, holdin' out a cup of water, and smilin' like

It was well that the night had fallen. At Old Matt's words the stranger shrank back in his chair, his hand raised

as if to ward off a deadly blow. He made a sound in his throat as if he would cry out, but could not from

horror or fear. But the darkness hid his face, and the mountaineer, with mind intent upon his story, did not

"He took an old cabin at the foot of the hill near where the sheep corral is now, and fixed it up to work in.

The shack had been built first by old man Dewey, him that the mountain's named after. It was down there he

painted the big picture of her a standin' by the big spring. We never thought nothin' about her bein' with him

so much. Country folks is that way, Mr. Howitt, 'though we ought to knowed better; we sure ought to knowed

better." The old giant paused and for some time sat with his head bowed, his forgotten pipe on the floor.

"Well," he began again; "he stopped with us all that summer, and then one day he went out as usual and didn't

come back. We hunted the hills out for signs, thinkin' maybe he met up with some trouble. He'd sent all his

"The girl was nigh about wild and rode with me all durin' the hunt, and once when we saw some buzzards

circlin', she gave a little cry and turned so white that I suspicioned maybe she got to thinkin' more of him than

we knew. Then one afternoon when we were down yonder in the Hollow, she says, all of a sudden like,

'Daddy, it ain't no use a ridin' no more. He ain't met up with no trouble. He's left all the trouble with us.' She

looked so piqued and her eyes were so big and starin' that it come over me in a flash what she meant. She saw

"She just kept a gettin' worse and worse, Mr. Howitt; 'peared to fade away like, like I watched them big glade

lilies do when the hot weather comes. About the only time she would show any life at all was when someone

"Then one day, a letter come. I brung it myself. She give a little cry when I handed it to her, and run into the

house, most like her old self. I went on out to the barn to put up my horse, thinkin' maybe it was goin' to be

alright after all; but pretty soon, I heard a scream and then a laugh. 'Fore God, sir, that laugh's a ringin' in my

ears yet. She was ravin' mad when I got to her, a laughin', and a screechin', and tryin' to hurt herself, all the

"I read the letter afterwards. It told over and over how he loved her and how no woman could ever be to him

what she was; said they was made for each other, and all that; and then it went on to say how he couldn't

never see her again; and told about what a grand old family his was, and how his father was so proud and

expected such great things from him, that he didn't dare tell, them bein' the last of this here old family, and

Old Matt talked on in a hard easy tone. "Course it was all wrote out nice and smooth like he talked, but that's

the sense of it. He finished it by sayin' that he would be on his way to the old country when the letter reached

"The girl quieted down after a spell, but her mind never come back. She wasn't just to say plumb crazy, but

she seemed kind o' dazed and lost like, and wouldn't take no notice of nobody. Acted all the time like she was

expectin' him to come. And she'd stand out there by the gate for hours at a time, watchin' the Old Trail and

"Pete is her boy, Mr. Howitt, and as you've seen he ain't just right. Seems like he was marked some way in

his mind like you've seen other folks marked in their bodies. We've done our best by the boy, sir, but I don't

guess he'll ever be any better. Once for a spell we tried keepin' him to home, but he got right sick and would

o' died sure, if we hadn't let him go; it was pitiful to see him. Everybody 'lows there won't nothin' in the

woods hurt him nohow; so we let him come and go, as he likes; and he just stops with the neighbors wherever

he happens in. Folks are all as good to him as they can be, 'cause everybody knows how it is. You see, sir,

people here don't think nothin' of a wood's colt, nohow, but we was raised different. As wife says, we've most

forgot civilized ways, but I guess there's some things a man that's been raised right can't never forget.

"She died when Pete was born, and the last thing she said was, 'He'll come, Daddy, he'll sure come.' Pete says

the wind singin' in that big pine over her grave is her a callin' for him yet. It's mighty queer how the boy got

"And that ain't all, sir." The big man moved his chair nearer the other, and lowered his voice to a hoarse

whisper; "Folks say she's come back. There's them that swears they've seen her 'round the old cabin where

they used to meet when he painted her picture, the big one, you know. Just before I bought the ranch, it was

"I don't know, Mr. Howitt; I don't know. I've thought a heap about it, I ain't never seen it myself, and it 'pears

to me that if she could come back at all, she'd sure come to her old Daddy. Then again I figure it that bein'

took the way she was, part of her dead, so to speak, from the time she got that letter, and her mind so set on

his comin' back, that maybe somehowyou seethat maybe she is sort a waitin' for him there. Many's the

time I have prayed all night that God would let me meet him again just once, or that proud father of his'n, just

once, sir; I'd glad go to Hell if I could only meet them first. If she is waitin' for him down there, he'll come;

he'll sure come. Hell couldn't hold him against such as that, and when he comes"

Unconsciously, as he spoke the last sentences, the giant's voice took a tone of terrible meaning, and he slowly

rose from his seat. When he uttered the last word he was standing erect, his muscles tense, his powerful frame

There was an inarticulate cry of horror, as the mountaineer's guest started to his feet. A moment he stood,

Long into the night, the stranger walked the floor of his little room under the roof, his face drawn and white,

whispering half aloud things that would have startled his unsuspecting host. "My boymy boymine! To

do such a thing as that! HowardHoward. O Christ! that I should live to be glad that you are dead! And that

picture! His masterpiece, the picture that made his fame, the picture he would never part with, and that we

could never find! I see it all now! Just God, what a thing to carry on one's soul!"

Once he paused to stand at the window, looking down upon the valley. The moon had climbed high above the

mountain, but beneath the flood of silver light the shadows lay dark and deep in Mutton Hollow. Then as he

stood there, from out the shadowy gloom, came the wild, weird song they had heard the evening before. The

man the window groaned. The song sank to a low, moaning wail, and he seemed to hear again the wind in the

pine above the grave of the murdered girl. She was calling, callingwould he come back? Back from the

grave, could he come? The words of the giant mountaineer seemed burned into the father's brain; Hell

Then the man with the proud face, the face of a scholar and poet, drew back from the window, shaking with a

fear he could not control. He crept into a corner and crouched upon the floor. With wide eyes, he stared into

And this is how it came about that the stranger, who followed the Old Trail along the higher sunlit ground,

followed, also, the other trail down into the valley where the gloomy shadows are; there to live at the ranch

SAMMY LANE rode very slowly on her way home from the Matthews place that morning after the stranger

had arrived. She started out at her usual reckless gait, but that was because she knew that Young Matt was

Once in the timber, the brown pony was pulled to a walk, and by the time they came out into the open again,

the little horse, unrebuked by his mistress, was snatching mouthfuls of grass as he strolled along the trail.

Sammy was thinking; thinking very seriously. Aunt Mollie's parting question had stirred the girl deeply.

Sammy had seen few people who did not belong to the backwoods. The strangers she had met were hunters

or cattlemen, and these had all been, in dress and manner, not unlike the natives themselves. This man, who

had come so unexpectedly out of the mists the night before, was unlike anyone the young woman had ever

known. Like Jed Holland, she felt somehow as if he were a superior being. The Matthews family were

different in many ways from those born and raised in the hills. And Sammy's father, too, was different. But

Coming to the big, low gap, the girl looked far away to the blue line of hills, miles, and miles away. The

stranger had come from over these, she thought; and then she fell to wondering what that world beyond the

Of all the people Sammy had ever known, young Stewart was the only one who had seen even the edge of

that world to tell her about it. Her father and her friends, the Matthews's, never talked of the old days. She

had known Ollie from a child. With Young Matt they had gone to and from the log school house along the

same road. Once, before Mr. Stewart's death, the boy had gone with his father for a day's visit to the city, and

ever after had been a hero to his backwoods schoolmates. It was this distinction, really, that first won

Sammy's admiration, and made them sweethearts before the girl's skirts had touched the tops of her shoes.

Before the woman in her was fairly awake she had promised to be his wife; and they were going away now to

Spying an extra choice bunch of grass a few steps to one side of the path, Brownie turned suddenly toward

the valley; and the girl's eyes left the distant ridge for the little cabin and the sheep corral in Mutton Hollow.

Sammy always spoke of that cabin as "Young Matt's house." And, all unbidden now, the thought came, who

would live with the big fellow down there in the valley when she had gone far away to make her home with

An impatient tug at the reins informed Brownie that his mistress was aware of his existence, and, for a time,

the pony was obliged to pass many a luscious bunch of grass. But soon the reins fell slack again. The little

horse moved slowly, and still more slowly, until, by the relaxed figure of his rider, he knew it was safe to

So, wondering, dreaming, Sammy Lane rode down the trail that morningthe trail that is nobody knows

how old. And on the hill back of the Matthews house a team was standing idle in the middle of the field.

At the big rock on the mountain side, where the trail seems to pause a moment before starting down to the

valley, the girl slipped from her saddle, and, leaving Brownie to wander at will, climbed to her favorite seat.

Half reclining in the warm sunshine, she watched the sheep feeding near, and laughed aloud as she saw the

lambs with wagging tails, greedily suckling at their mother's sides; near by in a blackhaw bush a mother

bird sat on her nest; a gray mare, with a week old colt following on unsteady legs, came over the ridge; and

not far away; a mother sow with ten squealing pigs came out of the timber. Keeping very still the young

woman watched until they disappeared around the mountain. Then, lifting her arms above her head, she

stretched her lithe form out upon the warm rocky couch with the freedom and grace of a wild thing of the

Sammy Lane knew nothing of the laws and customs of the, socalled, best society. Her splendid young

womanhood was not the product of those social traditions and rules that kill the instinct of her kind before it

is fairly born. She was as free and as physically perfect as any of the free creatures that lived in the hills. And,

keenly alive to the life that throbbed and surged about her, her woman's heart and soul responded to the spirit

of the season. The droning of the bees in the blossoms that grew in a cranny of the rock; the tinkle, tinkle of

the sheep bells, as the flock moved slowly in their feeding; and the soft breathing of Mother Earth was in her

ears; while the gentle breeze that stirred her hair came heavy with the smell of growing things. Lying so, she

looked far up into the blue sky where a buzzard floated on lazy wings. If she were up there she perhaps could

see that world beyond the hills. Then suddenly a voice came to her, Aunt Mollie's voice, "How do you reckon

you'll like bein' a fine lady, Sammy, and a livin' in the city with the big folks?"

The girl turned on her side and rising on one elbow looked again at Mutton Hollow with its little cabin half

hidden in the timber. And, as she looked, slowly her rich red life colored cheek, and neck, and brow. With a

gesture of impatience, Sammy turned away to her own home on the southern slope of the mountain, just in

time to see a young woman ride into the clearing and dismount before the cabin door. It was her friend,

Mandy Ford. The girl on the rock whistled to her pony, and, mounting, made her way down the hill.

All that day the strange guest at the Matthews place was the one topic of conversation between the two girls.

"Shucks," said Mandy, when Sammy had finished a very minute description of Mr. Howitt; "he's jest some

Sammy tossed her head; "Revenue! you ought to see him! Revenues don't come in no such clothes as them,

"Can't tell 'bout revenues," retorted the other. "Don't you mind how that'n fooled everybody over on th' bend

last year? He was jest as common as common, and folks all 'lowed he was just one of 'em."

"But this one ain't like anybody that we ever met up with, and that's jest it," returned Sammy.

Mandy shook her head; "You say he ain't huntin'; he sure ain't buyin' cattle this time o' year; and he ain't a

To which Sammy replied with an unanswerable argument; "Look a here, Mandy Ford; you jest tell me, would

At this Mandy gave up the case, saying in despair, "Well, what is he a doin' here then? 'Tain't likely he's done

Sammy replied slowly, "I don't reckon it's that kind of sickness he meant; and when you look right close into

In connection with this discussion, it was easy to speak of Miss Lane's fairy prospects, for, was not the

stranger from the city? and was not Sammy going to live in that land of wonders? The two girls were

preparing for the night, when Sammy, who was seated on the edge of the bed, paused, with one shoe off, to

Mandy looked surprised. "I reckon you ought to know," she said with a laugh; "Ollie's been a hangin' 'round

Sammy was struggling with a knot in the other shoe lace; "Yes," she admitted slowly; "I reckon I had ought

"Why, hit'shit'sjest a caring fer somebody more'n fer ary one else in th' whole world."

"No, hit ain't all. Hit's a goin' t' live with somebody an' a lettin' him take care o' you, 'stead o' your folks."

Sammy was still struggling with the knot. "An' hit's a cookin' an' a scrubbin' an' a mendin' fer him,

an'an'sometimes hit's a splittin' wood, an' a doin' chores, too; an' I reckon that's all."

Just here the knot came undone, and the shoe dropped to the floor with a thud. Sammy sat upright. "No, it

ain't, Mandy; it's a heap more'n that; it's a nursin' babies, and a takin' care of 'em 'till they're growed up, and

then when they're big enough to take care o' themselves, and you're old and in the way, like Grandma

Bowles, it's a lookin' back over it all, and bein' glad you done married the man you did. It's a heap more'n

livin' with a man, Mandy; it's a doin' all that, without ever once wishin' he was somebody else."

This was too much for Mandy; she blushed and giggled, then remarked, as she gazed admiringly at her friend,

"You'll look mighty fine, Sammy, when you get fixed up with all them pretties you'll have when you an' Ollie

git married. I wish my hair was bright an' shiny like yourn. How do you reckon you'll like bein' a fine lady

Here it was again. Sammy turned upon her helpless friend, with, "How do I know if I would like it or not?

"Why, bein' a fine lady isis livin' in a big house with carpets on th' floor, an' lookin' glasses, an' not havin'

no work t' do, an' wearin' pretty clothes, with lots of rings an' things, an'an'," she paused; then finished in

That wide questioning look was in Sammy's eyes as she returned, "It's a heap more'n that, Mandy. I don't jest

sense what it is, but I know 'tain't all them things that makes a sure 'nough lady. 'Tain't the clothes he wears

that makes Mr. Howitt different from the folks we know. He don't wear no rings, and he walks. He's jest

different 'cause he's different; and would be, no matter what he had on or where he was."

This, too, was beyond Mandy. Sammy continued, as she finished her preparations for retiring; "This here

house is plenty big enough for me, least wise it would be if it had one more room like the cabin in Mutton

Hollow; carpets would be mighty dirty and unhandy to clean when the men folks come trampin' in with their

muddy boots; I wouldn't want to wear no dresses so fine I couldn't knock 'round in the brush with them; and it

would be awful to have nothin' to do; as for a carriage, I wouldn't swap Brownie for a whole city full of

carriages." She slipped into bed and stretched out luxuriously. "Do you reckon I could be a fine lady, and be

The next day Mandy went back to her home on Jake Creek. And in the evening Sammy's father, with Wash

PREACHIN' BILL says "There's a heap o' difference in most men, but Jim Lane now he's more different than

ary man you ever seed. Ain't no better neighbor'n Jim anywhere. Ride out o' his way any time t' do you a

favor. But you bet there ain't ary man lives can ask Jim any fool questions while Jim's a lookin' at him. Tried

it onct myself. Jim was a waitin' at th' ferry fer Wash Gibbs, an' we was a talkin' 'long right peart 'bout crops

an' th' weather an' such, when I says, says I, like a dumb ol' fool, 'How'd you like it down in Texas, Jim, when

you was there that time?' I gonies! His jaw shet with a click like he'd cocked a pistol, an' that look o' hisn, like

he was a seein' plumb through you, come int' his eyes, an' he says, says he, quiet like, 'D' you reckon that rain

over on James yesterday raised th' river much?' An' 'fore I knowed it, I was a tellin' him how that ol' red bull

Many stories of the Bald Knobber days, when the law of the land was the law of rifle and rope, were drifting

about the country side, and always, when these tales were recited, the name of Jim Lane was whispered;

while the bolder ones wondered beneath their breath where Jim went so much with that Wash Gibbs, whose

Mr. Lane was a tall man, well set up, with something in his face and bearing that told of good breeding;

southern blood, one would say, by the dark skin, and the eyes, hair, and drooping mustache of black.

His companion, Wash Gibbs, was a gigantic man; taller and heavier, even, than the elder Matthews, but more

loosely put together than Old Matt; with coarse, heavy features, and, as Grandma Bowles said, "the look of a

sheep killin' dog." Grandma, being very near her journey's end, could tell the truth even about Wash Gibbs,

but others spoke of the giant only in whispers, save when they spoke in admiration of his physical powers.

As the two men swung stiffly from their saddles, Sammy came running to greet her father with a kiss of

welcome; this little exhibition of affection between parent and child was one of the many things that marked

the Lanes as different from the natives of that region. Your true backwoodsman carefully hides every sign of

his love for either family or friends. Wash Gibbs stood looking on with an expression upon his brutal face

Releasing his daughter, Mr. Lane said, "Got anything to eat, honey? We're powerful hungry. Wash 'lowed

we'd better tie up at the river, but I knew you'd be watching for me. The horses are plumb beat." And Gibbs

broke in with a coarse laugh, "I wouldn't mind killin' a hoss neither, if I was t' git what you do at th' end o' th'

To this, Jim made no reply; but began loosening the saddle girths, while Sammy only said, as she turned

While the host was busy caring for his tired horse, the big man, who did not remove the saddle from his

mount, followed the girl into the cabin. "Can't you even tell a feller, Howdy?" he exclaimed, as he entered the

" 'Pears like you might o' been a grain warmer about hit," growled the other, seating himself where he could

watch her. "If I'd been Young Matt er that skinny Ollie Stewart, you'd a' been keen enough."

Sammy turned and faced him with angry eyes; "Look a here, Wash Gibbs, I done tol' you last Thursday when

you come for Daddy that you'd better let me alone. I don't like you, and I don't aim to ever have anything to

do with you. You done fixed yourself with me that time at the Cove picnic. I'll tell Daddy about that if you

don't mind. I don't want to make no trouble, but you just got to quit pestering me."

The big fellow sneered. "I 'lowed you might change your mind 'bout that some day. Jim ain't goin' t' say

nothin' t' me, an' if he did, words don't break no bones. I'm a heap th' best man in this neck o' th' woods, an'

Under his look, the blood rushed to the girl's face in a burning blush. In spite of her anger she dropped her

A moment later, Mr. Lane entered the room; a single glance at his daughter's face, a quick look at Wash

Gibbs, as the bully sat following with wolfish eyes every movement of the girl, and Jim stepped quietly in

front of his guest. At the same moment, Sammy left the house for a bucket of water, and Wash turned toward

his host with a start to find the dark faced man gazing at him with a look that few men could face with

composure. Without a word, Jim's right hand crept stealthily inside his hickory shirt, where a button was

For a moment Gibbs tried to return the look. He failed. Something he read in the dark face before himsome

meaning light in those black eyesmade him tremble and he felt, rather than saw, Jim's hand resting quietly

now inside the hickory shirt near his left arm pit. The big man's face went white beneath the tan, his eyes

wavered and shifted, he hung his head and shuffled his feet uneasily, like an overgrown schoolboy brought

Then Jim, his hand still inside his shirt, drawled, softly, but with a queer metallic ring in his voice, "Do you

At the commonplace question, the bully drew a long breath and looked around. "We might have a spell o'

Next to his daughter, Jim Lane loved his violin, and with good reason, for the instrument had once belonged

to his greatgrandfather, who, tradition says, was a musician of no mean ability.

Preachin' Bill " 'lowed there was a heap o' difference between a playin' a violin an' jest fiddlin'. You wouldn't

know some fellers was a makin' music, if you didn't see 'em a pattin' their foot; but hit ain't that a way with

Jim Lane. He sure do make music, real music." As no one ever questioned Bill's judgment, it is safe to

conclude that Mr. Lane inherited something of his greatgrandfather's ability; along with his treasured

When supper was over, and Wash Gibbs had gone on his way; Jim took the violin from its peg above the

fireplace, and, tucking it lovingly under his chin, gave himself up to his favorite pastime, while Sammy

When her evening tasks were finished, the girl came and stood before her father. At once the music ceased

and the violin was laid carefully aside. Sammy seated herself on her father's knee.

"Law', child, but you're sure growin' up," said Jim, with a mock groan at her weight.

"O shucks!" ejaculated the man. "It wasn't more'n last week that you was washin' doll clothes, down by the

The young woman laughed. "I didn't wash no doll clothes last week," she said. Then her voice changed, and

that wide, questioning look, the look that made one think so of her father, came into her eyes. "There's

something I want to ask you, Daddy Jim. Youyou knowOllie's goin' away, an'an'an' I was thinkin'

Mr. Lane stirred uneasily. Sammy continued, "There's the Matthews's, they've got kin back in Illinois; Mandy

Ford's got uncles and aunts over on Lang Creek; Jed Holland's got a grandad and mam, and even Preachin'

Bill talks about a pack o' kin folks over in Arkansaw. Why ain't we got no folks, Daddy?"

The man gazed long and thoughtfully at the fresh young face of his child; and the black eyes looked into the

brown eyes keenly, as he answered her question with another question, "Do you reckon you love him right

smart, honey? Are you sure, dead sure you ain't thinkin' of what he's got 'stead of what he is? I know it'll be

mighty nice for you to be one of the fine folks and they're big reasons why you ought, but it's goin' to take a

mighty good man to match youa mighty good man. And it's the man you've got to live with, not his

"Ollie's good, Daddy," she returned in a low voice, her eyes fixed upon the floor.

"I know, I know," replied Jim. "He wouldn't do nobody no harm; he's good enough that way, and I ain't a

The faintest glimmer of a smile came into the dark face; "You're sure growed up, girl; you're sure growed up,

IT began on a big southern plantation, where there were several brothers and sisters, with a gentleman father

With much care for detail, Jim drew a picture of the big mansion with its wide lawns, flower gardens and tree

bordered walks; with its wealth of culture, its servants, and distinguished guests; for, said he, "When you get

to be a fine lady, you ought to know that you got as good blood as the best of the thoroughbreds." And

Then he told how the one black sheep of that proud southern flock had been cast forth from the beautiful

home while still hardly grown; and how, with his horse, gun and violin, the wanderer had come into the heart

of the Ozark wilderness, when the print of moccasin feet was still warm on the Old Trail. Jim sketched

broadly here, and for some reason did not fully explain the cause of his banishment; neither did he comment

Time passed, and a strong, cleareyed, cleanlimbed, deepbosomed mountain lass, with all the mastering

passion of her kind, mated the free, half wild, young hunter; and they settled in the cabin by the spring on the

southern slope of Dewey. Then the little one came, and in her veins there was mingled the blue blood of the

Again Jim's story grew rich in detail. Holding his daughter at arm's length, and looking at her through

halfclosed eyes, he said, "You're like her, honey; you're mighty like her; same eyes, same hair, same mouth,

same build, same way of movin', strong, but smooth and free like. She could run clean to the top of Dewey,

Sammy laughed, and shook her head; "I've run from here to the signal tree, lots of times, Daddy."

"You're like the old folks, too," mused Jim; "like them in what you think and say."

"Tell me more," said the girl. "Seems like I remember bein' in a big wagon, and there was a woman there too;

Jim nodded, and unconsciously lowered his voice, as he said, "It was in the old Bald Knobber time. Things

happened in them days, honey. Many's the night I've seen the top of old Dewey yonder black with men. It

was when things was broke up, thatthat your mother and me thought we could do better in Texas; so we

"Your mother left us there, girl. Seemed like she couldn't stand it, bein' away from the hills or somethin', and

she just give up. I never did rightly know how it was. We buried her out there, way out on the big plains."

"I remember her a little," whispered Sammy. Jim continued; "Then after a time you and me come back to the

old place. Your mother named you Samantha, girl, but bein' as there wasn't no boy, I always called you

Sammy. It seems right enough that way now, for you've sure been more'n a son to me since we've been alone;

and that's one reason why I learned you to ride and shoot with the best of them.

"There's them that says I ain't done right by you, bringing you up without ary woman about the place; and I

don't know as I have, but somehow I couldn't never think of no woman as I ought, after living with your

mother. And then there was Aunt Mollie to learn you how to cook and do things about the house. I counted a

good bit, too, on the old stock, and it sure showed up right. You're like the old folks, girl, in the way you

Sammy's arms went around her father's neck, "You're a good man, Daddy Jim; the best Daddy a girl ever

had; and if I ain't all bad, it's on account of you." There was a queer look on the man's dark face. He had

The girl raised her head again; "But, Daddy, I wish you'd do something for me. II don't like Wash Gibbs to

be a comin' here. I wish you'd quit ridin' with him, Daddy. I'mI'm afeared of him; he looks at me so. He's a

Jim laughed and again there was that odd metallic note in his voice; "I've knowed him a long time, honey. Me

and his daddy waswas together when he died; and you used to sit on Wash's knee when you was a little

tad. Not that he's so mighty much older than you, but he was a man's size at fifteen. You don't understand,

girl, but I've got to go with him sometimes. But don't you fret; Wash Gibbs ain't goin' to hurt me, and he

won't come here more'n I can help, either." Then he changed the subject abruptly. "Tell me what you've been

Sammy told of' her visit to their friends at the Matthews place, and of the stranger who had come into the

neighborhood. As the girl talked, her father questioned her carefully, and several times the metallic note crept

into his soft, drawling speech, while into his eyes came that peculiar, searching look, as if he would draw

from his daughter even more than she knew of the incident. Once he rose, and, going to the door, stood

Sammy finished with her answer to Mandy Ford's opinion of the stranger; "You don't reckon a revenue would

ask a blessin', do you, Daddy? Seems like he just naturally wouldn't dast; God would make the victuals stick

Jim laughed, as he replied, "I don't know, girl; I never heard of a revenue's doin' such. But a feller can't tell."

When Sammy left him to retire for the night, her father picked up the violin again, and placed it beneath his

chin as if to play; but he did not touch the strings, and soon hung the instrument in its place above the mantel.

Then, going to the doorway, he lighted his pipe, and, for a full hour, sat, looking up the Old Trail toward the

Matthews place, his right hand thrust into the bosom of his hickory shirt, where the button was missing.

WHAT the club is to the city man, and the general store or postoffice to the citizens of the country village,

Made to saw the little rough lumber he needs in his primitive building, or to grind his corn into the rough

meal, that is his staff of life, the mill does more for the settler than this; it brings together the scattered

population, it is the news center, the heart of the social life, and the hub of the industrial wheel.

On grinding day, the Ozark mountaineer goes to mill on horseback, his grist in a sack behind the saddle, or,

indeed, taking place of the saddle itself. The rule is, first come, first served. So, while waiting his turn, or

waiting for a neighbor who will ride in the same direction, the woodsman has time to contribute his share to

the gossip of the country side, or to take part in the discussions that are of more or less vital interest. When

the talk runs slow, there are games; pitching horse shoes, borrowed from the blacksmith shopthere is

always a blacksmith shop near by; running or jumping contests, or wrestling or shooting matches.

Fall Creek Mill, owned and operated by Mr. Matthews and his son, was located on Fall Creek in a deep,

A little old threshing engine, one of the very first to take the place of the horse power, and itself in turn

already pushed to the wall by improved competitors, rolled the saw or the burr. This engine, which had been

rescued by Mr. Matthews from the scrappile of a Springfield machine shop, was accepted as evidence

beyond question of the superior intelligence and genius of the Matthews family. In fact, Fall Creek Mill gave

the whole Mutton Hollow neighborhood such a tone of uptodate enterprise, that folks from the Bend, or

the mouth of the James, looked upon the Mutton Hollow people with no little envy and awe, not to say even

The settlers came to the Matthews mill from far up the creek, crossing and recrossing the little stream; from

Iron Spring and from Gardner, beyond Sand Ridge, following faint, twisting bridle paths through the forest;

from the other side of Dewey Bald, along the Old Trail; from the Cove and from the Postoffice at the Forks,

down the wagon road, through the pinery; and from Wolf Ridge and the head of Indian Creek beyond,

climbing the rough mountains. Even from the river bottoms they came, yellow and shaking with ague, to

swap tobacco and yarns, and to watch with never failing interest the crazy old engine, as Young Matt patted,

They began coming early that grinding day, two weeks after Mr. Howitt had been installed at the ranch. But

the young engineer was ready, with a good head of steam in the old patched boiler, and the smoke was rising

It was a great day for Young Matt; great because he knew that Sammy Lane would be coming to mill; he

would see her and talk with her; perhaps if he were quick enough, he might even lift her from the brown

It was a great day, too, because Ollie Stewart would be saying goodby, and before tomorrow would be on

his way out of the hills. Not that it mattered whether Ollie went or not. It was settled that Sammy was going

to marry young Stewart; that was what mattered. And Young Matt had given her up. And, as he had told his

father in the barn that day, it was alright. But stillstill it was a great day, because Ollie would be saying

It was a great day in Young Matt's life, too, because on that day he would issue his challenge to the

acknowledged champion of the countryside, Wash Gibbs. But Young Matt did not know this until

The company had been discussing the new arrival in the neighborhood, and speculating as to the probable

length of Mr. Howitt's stay at the ranch, and while Young Matt was in the burrhouse with his father, they

had gone over yet again the familiar incidents of the ghost story; how "Budd Wilson seen her as close as from

here t' th' shop yonder." How "Joe Gardner's mule had gone plumb hogwild when he tried to ride past the ol'

ruins near th' ranch." And "how Lem Wheeler, while out hunting that roan steer o' hisn, had heard a moanin'

Upon Young Matthews returning to his engine, the conversation had been skilfully changed, to Ollie Stewart

and his remarkable good fortune. From Ollie and his golden prospects, it was an easy way to Sammy Lane

Buck Thompson was just concluding a glowing tribute to the girl's beauty of face and form when Young Matt

reached for an axe lying near the speaker. Said Buck, "Preachin' Bill 'lowed t'other day hit didn't make no

difference how much money th' ol' man left Ollie he'd be a poor sort of a man anyhow; an' that there's a heap

better men than him right here in th' hills that Sammy could a' had fer th' askin'."

The big man's face flushed at the general laugh which followed, and he answered hotly, as he swung his axe,

"Wash is a sure good man," remarked Buck, "but there's another not so mighty far away that'll pretty nigh

hold, him level." He looked significantly to where Young Matt was making the big chips fly.

"Huh," grunted Joe. "I tell you, gentlemen, that there man, Gibbs, is powerful; yes, sir, he sure is. Tell you

what I seed him do." Joe pulled a twist of tobacco from his hip pocket, and settled down upon his heels, his

back against a post. "Wash an' me was a goin' to th' settlement last fall, an' jest this side th' camp house, on

Wilderness Road, we struck a threshin' crew stuck in th' mud with their engine. Had a break down o' some

kind. Somethin' th' matter with th' hind wheel. And jest as Wash an' me drove up, th' boss of th' outfit was a

tellin' 'em t' cut a big pole for a pry t' lift th' hind ex, so's they could block it up, an' fix th' wheel.

"Wash he looked at 'em a minute an' then says, says he, 'Hold on, boys; you don't need ary pole.'

" 'What do you know 'bout an engine, you darned hill billy,' says th' old man, kind o' short.

" 'Don't know nothin' 'bout an engine, you prairie hopper,' says Wash, 'but I know you don't need no pole t'

"The gang like t' bust themselves laughin'. 'Why you blame fool,' says the boas; 'do you know what that

" 'Don't care a cuss what she'll weigh,' says Wash. 'She ain't planted there, is she?' An' with that he climbs

down from th' wagon, an' dad burn me if he didn't take holt o' that hind ex an' lift one whole side o' that there

engine clean off th' ground. Them fellers jest stood 'round an' looked at him t' beat th' stir. 'Well,' says Wash,

"That boss didn't say a word 'till he'd got a bottle from a box on th' wagon an' handed, hit t' Wash; then he

" 'Oh, I'm jest a kid from over on Roark,' says Wash, handin' th' bottle t' me. 'You ought t' see some o' th' men

When the speaker had finished, there was quiet for a little; then the young man from the river drawled, "How

There was a general laugh at this, which the admirer of Gibbs took good naturedly; "Don't know what she'd

With one accord everyone turned to inspect the mill engine. "Pretty good lift, Joe. Let's you an' me take a pull

The two men lifted and strained at the wheel. Then another joined them, and, amid the laughter and good

natured raillery of the crowd, the three tried in vain to lift one of the wheels; while Mr. Matthews, seeing

some unusual movement, came into the shed and stood with his son, an amused witness of their efforts.

"Don't believe she weighs a pound more," replied the mountaineer with conviction. "I tell you, gentlemen,

Old Matt and his son glanced quickly at each other, and the boy shook his head with a smile. This little

byplay was lost on the men who were interested in the efforts of different ones, in groups of three, to move

the wheel. When they had at last given it up, the young man from the river drawled, "You're right sure hit

weren't after th' boas give you that bottle that Wash lifted her, are you Joe? Or wasn't hit on th' way home

When the laugh at this insinuation had died out, Buck said thoughtfully, "Tell you what, boys; I'd like t' see

Mr. Matthews, who was just starting back to the burrhouse, paused in the doorway. All eyes were fixed

upon his son. "Try her, Matt. Show us what you can do," called the men in chorus. But the young man shook

All that morning at intervals the mountaineers urged the big fellow to attempt the feat, but he always put

But after dinner, while the men were pitching horse shoes in front of the blacksmith shop, Buck Thompson

approached the young engineer alone. "Look a here, Matt," he said, "why don't you try that lift? Durned me if

The young giant looked around; "I know I can, Buck; I lifted her yesterday while Dad fixed the blockin'; I

Buck looked at him in amazement. "Well, why in thunder don't you show th' boys, then?" he burst forth at

" 'Cause if I do Wash Gibbs'll hear of it sure, and I'll have to fight him to settle which is th' best man."

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Buck, with a groan. "If you're afraid o' Wash Gibbs, it's th' first thing I ever knowed

Young Matt looked his friend steadily in the eyes, as he replied; "I ain't afraid of Wash Gibbs; I'm afraid of

myself. Mr. Howitt says, 'No man needn't be afraid of nobody but himself.' I've been a thinkin' lately, Buck,

an' I see some things that I never see before. I figure it that if I fight Wash Gibbs or anybody else just to see

which is th' best man, I ain't no better'n he is. I reckon I'll have to whip him some day, alright, an' I ain't a

carin' much how soon it comes; but I ain't a goin' to hurt nobody for nothin' just because I can."

Buck made no reply to this. Such sentiment was a little too much for his primitive notions. He went back to

It was not long, however, until the players left their game, to gather once more about the engine. Lem

Wheeler approached Young Matt with a serious air; "Look a here," he said; "we all want t' see you try that

"I ain't got no time for foolin'," replied the young man; "Dad's just pushin' to get done before dark."

"Shucks!" retorted the other; "Hit won't take a minute t' try. Jest catch hold an' show us what you can do."

"What are you all so keen about my liftin' for, anyhow?" demanded the big fellow, suspiciously. "I ain't never

"Well, you see it's this way; Buck done bet me his mule colt agin mine that you could lift her; an' we want

Young Matthews shot a glance at the mountaineer, who grinned joyously. "Yep," said Buck, "that's how it is;

I'm a backin' you. Don't want you t' hurt yourself for me, but I sure do need that colt o' Lem's; hit's a dead

The giant looked at his friend a moment in silence, then burst into a laugh of appreciation at Buck's hint.

"Seein' as how you're backin' me, Buck, I'll have t' get you that mule if I can."

He shut off steam, and, as the engine came to a stop, stooped, and, with apparent ease, lifted the rear wheel a

Loud exclamations of admiration came from the little group of men in the shed. Lem turned with a long face,

"You bet; come over an' hep me break 'em," replied Buck, with another grin of delight.

"Wait 'till Wash Gibbs hears 'bout this, an' he'll sure be for breakin' Young Matt," put in another.

"Better get your fightin' clothes on, Matt; Wash'll never rest easy until you've done showed him." These and

While the men were discussing the matter, a thin, highpitched voice from the edge of the crowd, broke in,

"That there's a good lift alright, but hit ain't nothin' t' what I seed when I was t' th' circus in th' city."

Young Matt, who had started the engine again, turned quickly. Ollie Stewart was sitting on a horse near by,

and at his side, on the brown pony, was Miss Sammy Lane. They had evidently ridden up just in time to

BESIDE the splendidly developed young woman, Ollie Stewart appeared but a weakling. His shoulders were

too narrow and he stooped; his limbs were thin; his hair black and straight; and his eyes dull.

As Young Matt stepped forward, Ollie dismounted quickly, but the big fellow was first at the brown pony's

side. Sammy's eyes shone with admiration, and, as the strong man felt their light, he was not at all sorry that

"No," she said, declining his offered assistance; she did not wish to get down; they were going to the

Young Matt lifted the sack of corn from Brownie's back and carried it into the shed. When he returned to the

group, Ollie was saying in his thin voice, "In th' circus I seen in the city there was a feller that lifted a man,

Buck turned to his big friend. His look was met by a grim smile that just touched the corners of the lad's

mouth, and there was a gleam in the blue eyes that betrayed the spirit within. The lean mountaineer again

turned to the company, while the boy glanced at Sammy. The girl was watching him and had caught the silent

"Shucks!" said Buck; "Matt could do that easy." "Try it, Matt." "Try Jed here." "Try hit once," called the

This time the big fellow needed no urging. With Sammy looking on, he could not resist the opportunity

which Ollie himself had presented. Without a word, but with a quick tightening of the lips, he stepped

forward and caught Jed by the belt with his right hand; and then, before anyone could guess his purpose, he

reached out with his other hand, and grasped Ollie himself in the same manner. There was a short step

forward, a quick upward swing, and the giant held a man in each hand at full arm's length above his head.

Amid the shouts of the crowd, still holding the men, he walked deliberately to the blacksmith shop and back;

Ollie and Sammy rode away together, up the green arched road, and the little company in the mill shed stood

watching them. As the finely formed young woman and her inferior escort passed from sight, a tall

mountaineer, from the other side of Compton Ridge, remarked, "I done heard Preachin' Rill say t'other day,

that 'mighty nigh all this here geehawin', balkin', and kickin' 'mongst th' married folks comes 'cause th'

teams ain't matched up right.' Bill he 'lowed God 'lmighty 'd fixed hit somehow so th' birds an' varmints don't

make no mistake, but left hit plumb easy for men an' women t' make durned fools o' theirselves."

Everybody grinned in appreciation, and another spoke up; "According t' that, I'll bet four bits if them two

yonder ever do get into double harness, there'll be pieces o' th' outfit strung from th' parson's clean t' th'

When the laughter had subsided, Buck turned to see Young Matt standing just outside the shed, ostensibly

doing something with the belt that led to the burr, but in reality looking up the creek.

"They sure will, Buck. There ain't two better in the country; they're a dead match. I'll come over an' hep you

break 'em when they're big 'nough." And then he wondered why Buck swore with such evident delight.

One by one the natives received their meal, and, singly, or in groups of two or three, were swallowed up by

the great forest. Already the little valley was in the shadow of the mountain, though the sun still shone

brightly on the tree tops higher up, when Ollie and Sammy returned from the Forks. Mr. Matthews had

climbed the hill when the last grist was ground, leaving his son to cool down the engine and put things right

"Come on, Matt," said Ollie, as the big fellow brought out the meal; "It's time you was a goin' home."

The young giant hung back, saying, "You folks better go on ahead. I'll get home alright."

"Didn't think nothin' would get you," laughed Ollie. "Come on, you might as well go 'long with us."

The other muttered something about being in the way, and started back into the shed.

After this there was nothing else for the young man to do but join them. And the three were soon making

For a time they talked of commonplace things, then Young Matt opened the subject that was on all their

hearts. "I reckon, Ollie, this is the last time that you'll ever be a climbin' this old road." As he spoke he was

really thinking of the time to come when Sammy would climb the road for the last time.

The other continued; "It'll sure be fine for you to live in the city and get your schoolin' and all that. Us folks

here in the woods don't know nothin'. We ain't got no chance to learn. You'll be forgettin' us all mighty quick,

" 'Deed, I won't!" returned Ollie warmly. "Sammy an' me was a talkin' 'bout that this evenin'. We aim t'

always come back t' Mutton Holler onct a year, an' be just like other folks; don't we, Sammy?"

The brown pony, stepping on a loose stone, stumbled toward the man walking by his side. And the big fellow

put out his hand quickly to the little horse's neck. For an instant, the girl's hand rested on the giant's shoulder,

and her face was close to his. Then Brownie recovered his footing, and Young Matt drew farther away.

Ollie continued; "We aim t' have you come t' th' city after a while. I'm goin' t' get Uncle Dan t' give you a job

The tone was unmistakably patronizing. The big mountaineer lifted his head proudly, and turned toward the

speaker; but before he could reply, Sammy broke in eagerly, "Law! but that would sure be fine, wouldn't it,

Matt? I'd know you'd do somethin' big if you only had the chance. I just know you would. You're soso

kind o' big every way," she laughed. "It's a plumb shame for you to be buried alive in these hills."

There was nothing said after this, until, coming to the top of the ridge, they stopped. From here Ollie and

Sammy would take the Old Trail to the girl's home. Then, with his eyes on the vast sweep of forestclad hills

and valleys, over which the blue haze was fast changing to purple in the level rays of the sun, Young Matt

"I don't guess you'd better figure on that. Some folks are made to live in the city, and some ain't. I reckon I

was built to live in these hills. I don't somehow feel like I could get along without them; and besides, I'd

always be knockin' against somethin' there." He laughed grimly, and stretched out his huge arms. "I've got to

have room. Then there's the folks yonder." He turned his face toward the log house, just showing through the

trees. "You know how it is, me bein' the only one left, and Dad gettin' old. No, I don't guess you need to

Then suddenly he wheeled about and looked from one face to the other; and there was a faint hint of defiance

in his voice, as he finished; "I got an idea, too, that the backwoods needs men same as the cities. I don't see

how there ever could be a city even, if it wasn't for the men what cleared the brush. Somebody's got to lick

Wash Gibbs some day, or there just naturally won't be no decent livin' in the neighborhood ever."

He held up his big hand to the man on the horse; "Goodby, and good luck to you, Ollie." The horses turned

That night Sammy Lane said farewell to her lover, and, with many promises for the future, Ollie rode away to

his cabin home, to leave the next morning for that world that lies so farso far away from the world of

Young Matt and his friends, the world that is so easy to get into after all, and so impossible to get out of ever.

ALL that spring and summer things went smoothly in the Mutton Hollow neighborhood. The corn was ready

to gather, and nothing had happened at the ranch since Mr. Howitt took charge, while the man, who had

appeared so strangely in their midst, had made a large place for himself in the hearts of the simple

At first they were disposed to regard him with some distrust, as one apart; he was so unlike themselves. But

when he had changed his dress for the rough garb of the hillsman, and, meeting them kindly upon their own

ground, had entered so readily into their life, the people by common consent dropped the distinguishing title

"Mister" for the more familiar one of the backwoods, "Dad." Not that they lacked in respect or courtesy; it

was only their way. And the quiet shepherd accepted the title with a pleased smile, seeming to find in the

change an honor to be received not lightly. But while showing such interest in all that made up their world,

the man never opened the door for anyone to enter his past. They knew no more of his history than the hints

At the occasional religious meetings in the school house at the Forks, Mr. Howitt was always present, an

attentive listener to the sermons of the backwoods preacher. And then, seeing his interest, they asked him to

talk to them one day when Parson Bigelow failed to make his appointment. "He don't holler so much as a

regular parson," said Uncle Josh Hensley, "but he sure talks so we'uns can understand." From that time they

So the scholar from the world beyond the ridges slipped quietly into the life of the mountain folk, and took

firm root in their affections. And in his face, so "Preachin' Bill" said, was the look of one who had "done

fought his fight to a finish, an' war too dead beat t' even be glad it war all over."

Between the giant Mr. Matthews and his shepherd, the friendship, begun that night, grew always stronger. In

spite of the difference in education and training, they found much in common. Some bond of fellowship,

unknown to the mountaineer, at least, drew them close, and the two men spent many evenings upon the front

porch of the log house in quiet talk, while the shadows crept over the valley below; and the light went from

From the first Young Matt was strongly drawn to the stranger, who was to have such influence over his life,

Pete somehow knew a great deal about God these days. A strange comradeship had come to be between the

thoughtful gentleman, who cared for the sheep, and the ignorant, sorely afflicted, and nameless backwoods

boy. The two were always together, out on the hillside and in the little glens and valleys, during the day with

the sheep, or at the ranch in the Hollow, when the flock was safely folded and the night slipped quietly over

the timbered ridges. Mr. Howitt had fixed a bunk in his cabin for the boy, so that he could come and go at

will. Often the shepherd awoke in the morning to find that some time during the night his strange friend had

come in from his roving. Again, after seeing the boy soundly sleeping, the shepherd would arise in the

Sammy Lane, too, had fallen under the charm of the man with the white hair and poet's face.

Sammy was not so often at the Matthews place after Ollie had gone to the city. The girl could not have told

why. She had a vague feeling that it was better to stay away. But this feeling did not prevent her climbing the

Old Trail to the Lookout on the shoulder of Dewey, and she spent hours at the big rock, looking over the

valley to where the smoke from Aunt Mollie's kitchen curled above the trees. And sometimes, against the

sky, she could see a man and a team moving slowly to and fro in the field back of the house. When this

happened, Sammy always turned quickly away to where the far off line of hills lay like a long, low cloud

Every week the girl rode her brown pony to the Postoffice at the Forks; and when she had a letter, things

One day when this happened, Dad and Pete were on the ridge above the Old Trail, just where the north slope

of Dewey shades into the rim of the Hollow. The elder man was seated on the ground in the shade of an oak,

with his back against the trunk of the tree, while the boy lay full length on the soft grass, looking up into the

green depths of foliage where a tiny brown bird flitted from bough to bough. In his quaint way, Pete was

carrying on a conversation with his little friend in the tree top, translating freely the while for his less gifted,

but deeply interested, companion on the ground below, when Brave, the shepherd dog, lying near, interrupted

the talk by a short bark. Looking up, they saw Young Matt riding along the summit of the ridge.

The young man paused when he heard the dog, and caught sight of the two under the tree; then he came to

them, and seated himself on the grass at Pete's side. He spoke no word of greeting, and the look on his face

Pete's eyes went wide with fear at the manner of his big friend, and he drew back as if to run, but when

Young Matt, throwing himself over on the grass, had hidden his face, a half sad, half knowing look came into

the lad's delicate features; reaching forth a hand, as slim as a girl's, he stroked the shaggy, red brown head, as

he murmured softly, "Poor Matt. Poor Matt. Does it hurt? Is Matt hurt? It'll be better byandby."

The great form on the grass stirred impatiently. The shepherd spoke no word. Pete continued, stroking the big

head, and talking in low, soothing tones, as one would hush a child, "Pete don't know what's a hurtin' Young

Matt, but it'll be alright, some day. It'll sure grow over after awhile. Ain't nothing won't grow over after

Still the older man was silent. Then the giant burst forth in curses, and the shepherd spoke, "Don't do that,

Young Matt turned over to face his friend; "I know it, Dad;" he growled defiantly; "but I just got to say

somethin'; I ain't meanin' no disrespect to God 'lmighty, and I reckon He ought to know it; but" he broke

Pete drew back in alarm. "Look your trouble in the face, lad," said the shepherd; "don't let it get you down

"Look it in the face!" roared the other. "Good God! that's just it! ain't I a lookin' it in the face every day? You

"I know more than you think, Grant," said the other, when the big fellow had stopped swearing to get his

breath. While he spoke, the shepherd was looking away along the Old Trail. "There comes your trouble now,"

he added, pointing to a girl on a brown pony, coming slowly out of the timber near the deer lick. The young

man made no reply. Pete, at sight of the girl, started to his feet, but the big fellow pulled him down again, and

When Sammy reached the sheep, she checked her pony, and searched the hillside with her eyes, while her

Young Matt shook his head savagely at his companion, and even Brave was held silent by a low "Be still"

Again Sammy looked carefully on every side, but lying on the higher ground, and partly hidden by the trees,

the little group could not be seen. When there was no answer to her second call, the girl drew a letter from her

The big man, looking on, cursed again beneath his breath. "It's from Ollie," he whispered to his companions.

"She stopped at the house. He says his uncle will give me a job in the shops, and that it'll be fine for me,

'cause Ollie will be my boss himself. He my boss! Why, dad burn his sneakin' little soul, I could crunch him

with one hand. I'd see him in hell before I'd take orders from him. I told her so, too," he finished savagely.

The girl finished her letter, and, after another long call for Dad, moved on over the shoulder of the mountain.

Pete, who had withdrawn a little way from his companions, was busily talking in his strange manner to his

Then Young Matt opened his heart to the shepherd and told him all. It was the old, old story; and, as Mr.

Howitt listened, dreams that he had thought dead with the death of his only son, stirred again in his heart, and

his deep voice was vibrant with emotion as he sought to comfort the lad who had come to him.

While they talked, the sun dropped until its lower edge touched the top of the tallest pine on Wolf Ridge, and

the long shadows lay over the valley below. "I'm mighty sorry I let go and cuss, Dad," finished, the boy. "But

I keep a holdin' in, and a holdin' in, 'til I'm plumb wild; then something happens like that letter, and I go out

on the range and bust. I've often wished you knowed. Seems like your just knowin' about it will help me to

"I'm glad, too, that you have told me, Grant. It means more to me than you can guess. II had a boy once,

The sheep had begun working toward the lower ground. The shepherd rose to his feet. "Take them home,

Brave. Come on, boys, you must eat with me at the ranch, tonight." Then the three friends, the giant

mountaineer, the strangely afflicted youth, and the old scholar went down the mountain side together.

As they disappeared in the timber on the lower level, the bushes, near which they had been sitting, parted

silently, and a man's head and shoulders appeared from behind a big rook. The man watched the strange

companions out of sight. Then the bushes swayed together, and the mountain seemed to have swallowed him

The three friends had just finished their supper when Pete saw Sammy entering the ranch clearing. Young

Matt caught up his hat. At the rear door he paused. "I've got to go now, Dad," he said awkwardly. "I can't see

her any more today. But if you'll let me, I'll come again when things get too hot."

The big fellow, with Pete, skipped away into the timber at the rear of the cabin, a moment before Sammy

"LAW sakes!" cried Sammy, looking at the table. "You don't use all them dishes, do you, Dad? You sure

"Oh, I eat enough," laughed Mr. Howitt; "but it happens that I had company this evening. Young Matt and

"Shucks!" exclaimed Sammy, as she seated herself, and removed her sunbonnet; "they must've eat and run.

Wish'd I'd got here sooner. Young Matt run away from me this afternoon. And I wanted to see him 'bout

Mandy Ford's party next week. I done promised Mandy that I'd bring him. I reckon he'd go with me if I asked

"There is not the least doubt about that," observed the man; "I'm sure anyone would be glad for such

"Indeed, I am not; I am very much in earnest. Then, taking a cob pipe from his pocket, he added, politely,

"Heh? O law! yes. What you ask me for?" She watched him curiously, as he filled and lighted the pipe. "I

reckon that's because you was raised in the city," he added slowly; "is that the way folks do there?"

"I don't mean that. Course they smoke and chew, too. And the women dip snuff, some of 'em. Aunt Mollie

Matthews don't, though, and I ain't never goin' to, 'cause she don't. But nobody don't ask nobody else if they

can. They just go ahead. That ain't the only way you're different from us, though," she continued, looking at

Mr. Howitt, with that wide questioning gaze. "You're different in a heap o' ways. 'Tain't that you wear

different clothes, for you don't, no more. Nor, 'taint that you act like you were any better'n us. I don't know

what it is, but it's somethin'. Take your stayin' here in Mutton Hollow, now; honest, Dad, ain't you afear'd to

"Hants," said the girl, lowering her voice; "down there." She pointed toward the old ruined cabin under the

bluff. "She's sure been seen there. What if he was to come, too? Don't you believe in hants?"

The shepherd's face was troubled, as he answered, "I don't know, Sammy. I scarcely know what I believe.

Some marvelous experiences are related by apparently reliable authorities; but I have always said that I could

not accept the belief. II am not so sure now. After all, the unseen world is not so very far away. Strange

forces, of which we know nothing, are about us everywhere. I dare not say that I do not believe."

Sammy shook her head. "Ain't 'nother man or woman in the whole country would dast spend the night here,

Dad; except Pete, of course. Not even Young Matt, nor my Daddy would do it; and I don't guess they're

afraid of anythinganything that's alive, I mean. You're sure different, Dad; plumb different. I reckon it

must be the city that does it. And that's what I've come to see you about this evenin'. You see Ollie's been a

tellin' me a lot about folks and things way over there." She waived her hand toward the ridges that shut in the

Hollow. "And Ollie he's changed a heap himself since he went there to live. I got a letter today, and, when I

went home, I hunted up the first one he wrote, and I can tell there's a right smart difference already. You

Mr. Howitt admitted that he had heard something of that nature; and Sammy nodded, "I 'lowed you'd know.

But you don't know how mighty proud and particular Ollie always is. I figure that bein' in the city with all

them one folks ain't goin' to make him any less that way than he was. And if he stays there and keeps on a

changin', and I stay here, and don't change none, why it might be that II" She faltered and came to a

dead stop, twisting her bonnet strings nervously in her confusion. "Ollie he ain't like Young Matt, nohow,"

she said again. "Such as that wouldn't make no difference with him. But Olliewell you see"

There was a twinkle, now, in the shepherd's eye, as he answered; "Yes, I see; I am quite sure that I see."

The girl continued; "You know all about these things, Dad. And there ain't nobody else here that does. Will

you learn me to be a sure 'nough lady, so as Ollie won'tso he won't" Again she paused in confusion. It

was evident, from the look on Mr. Howitt's face, that, whatever he saw, it was not this.

There was no answer. After a time, Sammy stole a look at her quiet companion. What could the man in the

"Course," said the young woman, with just a little lifting of her chin; "Course, if I couldn't never learn, there

The old scholar raised his head and looked long at the girl. Her splendid form, glowing with the rich life and

strength of the wilderness, showed in every line the proud old southern blood. Could she learn to be a fine

lady? Mr. Howitt thought of the women of the cities, pale, sickly, colorless, hothouse posies, beside this

mountain flower. What would this beautiful creature be, had she their training? What would she gain? What

might she not lose? Aloud he said, "My dear child, do you know what it is that you ask?'

Sammy hung her head, abashed at his serious tone. "I 'lowed it would be right smart trouble for you," she

said. "But I could let you have Brownie in pay; he ain't only five year old, and is as sound as a button. He's all

"My girl, my girl," said the shepherd, "you misunderstand me. I did not mean that. It would be a pleasure to

teach you. I was thinking how little you realized what the real life of the city is like, and how much you have

that the 'fine ladies,' as you call them, would give fortunes for, and how little they have after all that could add

Sammy laughed aloud, as she cried, "Me got anything that anybody would want? Why, Dad, I ain't got

nothin' but Brownie, and my saddle, andand that's all. I sure ain't got nothing to lose."

The man smiled in sympathy. Then slowly a purpose formed in his mind. "And if you should lose, you will

The girl sprang to her feet. "I knew you would. I knew you would. I was plumb sure you would," she cried,

fairly quivering with life and excitement. "It's got to be a sure 'nough lady, Dad. I want to be a really truly

"Yes, Sammy. I understand, a 'sure enough' lady, and we will do it, I am sure. But it will take a great deal of

"I reckon it will," she returned soberly, coming back to her seat. Then drawing her chair a little closer, she

leaned toward her teacher, "Begin now," she commanded. "Tell me what I must do first."

Mr. Howitt carefully searched his pockets for a match, and lighted his pipe again, before he said, "First you

must know what a 'sure enough' lady is. You see, Sammy, there are several kinds of women who call

themselves ladies, but are not real ladies after all; and they all look very much like the 'sure enough' kind; that

Sammy nodded, "Just like them Thompsons down by Flat Rock. They're all mighty proud, 'cause they come

from Illinois the same as the Matthews's. You'd think to hear 'em that Old Matt couldn't near run the ranch

without 'em, and some folks, strangers like, might believe it. But we all know they ain't nothing but just low

down trash, all the time, and no better than some of them folks over on the Bend."

The shepherd smiled, "Something like that. I see you understand. Now a real lady, Sammy, is a lady in three

ways: First, in her heart; I mean just to herself, in the things that no one but she could ever know. A 'sure

Again the girl broke in eagerly, "That's just like Aunt Mollie, ain't it? Couldn't no one ever have a finer lady

"Indeed, you are right," agreed the teacher heartily. "And that is the thing that lies at the bottom of it all,

"I won't never forget that," she returned. "I couldn't forget Aunt Mollie, nohow. Tell me more, Dad."

"Next, the 'sure enough' lady must have a lady mind. She must know how to think and talk about the things

that really matter. All the fine dresses and jewels in the world can't make a real lady, if she does not think, or

Again the girl nodded, and, with a knowing smile, answered quickly, "I know a man like that. And I see now

that that is what makes him so different from other folks. It's the things he thinks about all to himself that

does it. But I've got a heap to learn, I sure have. I could read alright, if I had something to read, and I reckon I

Then, continued the shepherd, "A lady will keep her body as strong and as beautiful as she can, for this is one

Sammy answered slowly, "I reckon I do. You mean I mustn't get stooped over and thin chested, and go

slouching around, like so many of the girls and women around here do, and I mustn't let my clothes go

without buttons, 'cause I am in a hurry, and I must always comb my hair, and keep my hands as white as I

Sammy gazed ruefully at a large rent in her skirt, and at a shoe half laced. Then she put up a hand to her

tumbled hair. "II didn't think it made any difference, when only home folks was around," she said.

"That's just it, my child," said the old man gently. "I think a 'sure enough' lady would look after these things

whether there was anyone to see her or not; just for herself, you know. And this is where you can begin. I will

send for some books right away, and when they come we will begin to train your mind."

"How does the violet get its perfume, Sammy?" Where does the rose get its color? How does the bird learn to

For a moment she was puzzled. Then her face lighted; "I see!" she exclaimed. "I'm just to catch it from folks

like Aunt Mollie, andand someone else I know. I'm just to be, not to make believe or let on like I was, but

to be a real lady inside. And then I'm to learn how to talk and look, like I know myself to be." She drew a

long breath as she rose to go. "It'll be mighty hard, Dad, in some ways; but it'll sure be worth it all when I get

out 'mong the folks. I'm mighty thankful to you, I sure am. And I hope you won't never be sorry you

As the girl walked swiftly away through the thickening dusk of the evening, the shepherd watched her out of

sight; then turned toward the corral for a last look at the sheep, to see that all was right for the night. "Brave,

old fellow," he said to the dog who trotted by his side; "are we going to make another mistake, do you think?

We have made so many, so many, you know." Brave looked up into the master's face, and answered with his

low bark, as though to declare his confidence. "Well, well, old dog, I hope you are right. The child has a

quick mind, and a good heart; and, if I am not mistaken, good blood. We shall see. We shall see."

Suddenly the dog whirled about, the hair on his back bristling as he gave a threatening growl. A man on a dun

MR. HOWITT stood quietly by the corral gate when the horseman rode up. It was Wash Gibbs, on his way

When the big mountaineer took the short cut through Mutton Hollow, he thought to get well past the ranch

before the light failed. No matter how well fortified with the courage distilled by his friend, Jennings, the big

man would never have taken the trail by the old ruined cabin alone after dark. He had evidently been riding at

a good pace, for his mule's neck and flanks were wet with sweat. Gibbs, himself, seemed greatly excited, and

one hand rested on the pistol at his hip, as be pulled up in front of the shepherd.

Without returning Mr. Howitt's greeting, he pointed toward the two empty chairs in front of the house,

"There was no man," returned the other. "Young Matt and Pete were here for supper, but they went as soon as

"Don't you try to lie to me!" exclaimed the big man, with another burst of language, and a threatening

Mr. Howitt was startled. Never in his life before had such words been addressed to him. He managed to reply

with quiet dignity, "I have no reason for deceiving you, or anyone else, Mr. Gibbs. There has been no man

here but myself, since Matt and Pete left after supper." The shepherd's manner carried conviction, and Gibbs

hesitated, evidently greatly perplexed. During the pause, Brave growled again, and faced toward the cliff

"What's th' matter with that dog?" said Gibbs, turning uneasily in his saddle, to face in the direction the

"What is it, Brave?" said Mr. Howitt. The only answer was an uneasy whine, followed by another growl, all

of which said plainly, in dog talk, "I don't know what it is, but there is something over there on that cliff that I

"Ain't no animal that makes a dog act like that. Did any body pass while you was a sittin' there, jest before I

The big man looked at the shepherd hard before he answered, in a halffrightened, halfbullying tone, "I

seed something in th' road yonder, an' hit disappeared right by th' old shack under th' bluffs." He twisted

around in his saddle again, facing the cliff with its dense shadows and dim twilight forms, as he muttered, "If

I was only right sure, I" Then swinging back he leaned toward the man on the ground; "Look a here,

Mister. There's them that 'lows there's things in this here Holler t' be afeared of, an' I reckon hit's so. There's

sure been hell t' pay at that there cabin down yonder. I ain't a sayin' what hit was I seed, but if hit war

anywhere else, I'd a said hit was a man; but if hit was a man, I don't know why you didn't see him when he

come past; er else you're a lyin'. I jest want t' tell you, you're right smart of a stranger in these here parts, even

if you have bean a workin' for Ol' Matt all summer. You're too blame careful 'bout talkin' 'bout yourself, or

tellin' whar you come from, t' suit some folks. Some strangers are alright, an' again some ain't. But we don't

aim t' have nobody in this here neighborhood what jumps into th' brush when they see an honest man a

As he finished speaking, Gibbs straightened himself in the saddle, and before Mr. Howitt could reply, the dun

mule, at a touch of the spur, had dashed away up the road in the direction taken by Sammy Lane.

It was quite dark in the heavy timber of the Hollow by the time Sammy had reached the edge of the open

ground on the hill side, but once on the higher level, clear of the trees, the strong glow of the western sky still

lighted the way. From here it was not far to the girl's home, and, as she climbed a spur of Dewey, Sammy saw

the cabin, and heard distinctly the sweet strain's of her father's violin. On top of the rise, the young woman

paused a moment to enjoy the beauties of the evening, which seemed to come to her with a new meaning that

night. As she stood there, her strong young figure was clearly outlined against the sky to the man who was

Sammy turned when she heard the quick beating of the mule's feet; then, recognizing the huge form of the

horseman, as he came out of the woods into the light, she started quickly away towards her home; but the

"Howdy, Sammy." Gibbs leaped from the saddle, and, with the bridle rein over his arm, came close to the

"You needn't t' be in such a powerful hurry," growled Wash. "If you've got time t' talk t' that old cuss at th'

Sammy turned angrily. "You'd better get back on your mule, and go about your business, Wash Gibbs. When

"That's alright, honey," exclaimed the other insolently. "I'm a goin' your way just th' same; an' we'll mosey

"Worse thing for Daddy, too," flashed the girl. "I wish you'd stay away from him."

Wash laughed; "Your daddy couldn't keep house 'thout me, nohow. Who was that feller talkin' with you an'

"That's what he said, too," growled Gibbs; "but I sure seed somebody a sneakin' into th' brush when I rode up.

I thought when I was down there hit might o' been a hant; but I know hit was a man, now. There's somethin'

mighty funny a goin' on around here, since that feller come int' th' neighborhood; an' he'll sure find somethin'

The girl caught her breath quickly. She knew the big ruffian's methods, and with good reason feared for her

As they drew near the house, Wash continued, "Young Matt he was there too. Let me tell you I ain't forgot

'bout his big show at th' mill last spring; he'll have t' do a heap better'n he done then, when I get 'round t'

Sammy laughed scornfully, " 'Pears like you ain't been in no hurry t' try it on. I ain't heard tell of Young

Matt's leaving th' country yet. You'd better stay away from Jennings' still though, when you do try it." Then,

while the man was tying his mule to the fence, she ran into the cabin to greet her father with a hysterical sob

that greatly astonished Jim. Before explanations could be made, a step was heard approaching the door, and

Sammy had just time to say, "Wash Gibbs," in answer to her father's inquiring look, when the big man

"Don't stop fer me, Jim," said the newcomer. "Jest let her go. Me an' Sammy's been havin' a nice little walk,

an' some right peart music would sound mighty fine." Gibbs was angered beyond reason at Sammy's last

Sammy's father made no reply until the girl had left the room, but whatever it was that his keen eye read in

his daughter's face, it made him turn to his guest with anything but a cordial manner, and there was that in his

"She was comin' home from th' sheep ranch, an' I caught up with her," explained Gibbs. "I 'lowed as how she

needed company, so I come 'long. I seemed t' be 'bout as welcome as usual," he added with an ugly grin.

"Meanin' that my girl don't want your company, and told you so?" asked the other softly.

Wash answered with a scowl; "Sammy's gettin' too dad burned good fer me since Ollie's uncle took him in.

An' now, this here old man from nowhere has come, it's worse than ever. She'll put a rope 'round our necks th'

Jim's right hand slipped quietly inside his hickory shirt, where the button was missing, as he drawled, "My

girl always was too good for some folks. And it's about time you was a findin' it out. She can't help it. She

was born that way. She's got mighty good blood in her veins, that girl has; and I don't aim to ever let it be

The deliberate purpose of the speaker was too evident to be mistaken. The other man's hand flew to his hip

almost before Mr. Lane had finished his sentence. But Wash was not quick enough. Like a flash Jim's hand

was withdrawn from inside the hickory shirt, and the giant looked squarely into the muzzle of Jim Lane's ever

In the same even voice, without the slightest allusion to the unfinished movement of the other, Mr. Lane

continued, "I done told you before that my girl would pick her own company, and I ain't never feared for a

minute that she'd take up with such as you. Ollie Stewart ain't so mighty much of a man, maybe, but he's

clean, he is, and the stock's pretty good. Now you can just listen to me, or you can mosey out of that door,

and the next time we meet, we will settle it for good, without any further arrangement."

As Sammy's father talked, the big figure of his visitor relaxed, and when Jim had finished his slow speech,

Wash was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front. "We ain't got no call t'

fight, now, Jim," he said in a tone of respect. "We got something else t' think about; an' that's what I come

here fer t'night. I didn't aim t', 'til I seed what I did at th' ranch down yonder. I tell you hit's time we was a

At this, Mr. Lane's face and manner changed quickly. He put up his weapon, and the two men drew their

chairs close together, as though Death had not a moment before stretched forth his hand to them.

For an hour they sat talking in low tones. Sammy in the next room had heard the conversation up to this

point, but now only an occasional word reached her ears. Gibbs seemed to be urging some action, and her

father was as vigorously protesting. "I tell you, Jim, hit's th' only safe way. You didn't use t' be so squeamish.

Several times the old shepherd was mentioned, and also the stranger whom Wash had seen that evening. And

once, the trembling girl heard Young Matt's name. At length the guest rose to go, and Mr. Lane walked with

him to the gate. Even after the big man was mounted, the conversation still continued; Wash still urging and

When his visitor was gone, Mr. Lane came slowly back to the house. Extinguishing the light, he seated

himself in the open doorway, and filled his pipe. Sammy caught the odor of tobacco, and a moment later Jim

heard a light, quick step on the floor behind him. Then two arms went around his neck; "What is it, Daddy?

"I heard you talkin' to him about pesterin' me, but after that, you didn't talk so loud. What is the matter,

Daddy, that he could stay and be so thick with you after the things you said? I was sure he'd make you kill

Jim laughed softly; "You're just like your mother, girl. Just like her, with the old blood a backin' you up."

Then he asked a number of questions about Mr. Howitt, and her visit to the ranch that evening.

As Sammy told him of her ambition to fit herself for the place that would be hers, when she married, and

repeating the things that Mr. Howitt had told her, explained how the shepherd had promised to help, Jim

expressed his satisfaction and delight. "I knowed you was a studyin' about something, girl," he said, "but I

"I didn't want to say nothing 'til I was sure, you see," replied the daughter. "I aimed to tell you as soon as I got

The man held her close "Dad Howitt sure puts the thing just right, Sammy. It'll be old times come back, when

you're a lady in your own house with all your fine friends around; and you'll do it, girl; you sure will. Don't

never be afraid to bank on the old blood. It'll see you through." Then his voice broke; "You won't never be

learned away from your old Daddy, will you, honey? Will you always stand by Daddy, like you do now? Will

you let me and Young Matt slip 'round once in a while, just to look at, you, all so fine?"

"There, there, honey; I was only funnin'. You'll always be my Sammy; the only boy I ever had. You just

Long after his daughter had gone to her room and to her bed, the mountaineer sat in the doorway, looking

into the dark. He heard the short bark of a fox in the brush back of the stable; and the wild cry of a catamount

from a cliff farther down the mountain was answered by another from the timber below the spring. He saw

the great hills heaving their dark forms into the sky, and in his soul he felt the spirit of the wilderness and the

Away down in Mutton Hollow a dog barked, and high up on Old Dewey near Sammy's Lookout, a spot of

YOUNG MATT would have found some excuse for staying at home the night of the party at Ford's, but the

The boy felt that the long evening with Sammy would only hurt. He reasoned with himself that it would be

better for him to see as little as possible of the girl who was to marry Ollie Stewart. Nevertheless, he was

singing as he saddled the big white faced sorrel to ride once more over the trail that is nobody knows how

Mr. Lane was leading the brown pony from the stable as Young Matt rode up to the gate; and from the

"Ain't seen you for a coon's age, boy," said Jim, while they were waiting for the girl. "Why don't you never

The big fellow's face reddened, as he answered, "I ain't been nowhere, Jim. 'Pears like I just can't get away

Sammy's father looked his young neighbor squarely in the eye with that peculiar searching gaze; "Look a

here, Grant. I've knowed you ever since you was born, and you ought to know me a little. 'Tain't your way to

dodge, and 'tain't mine. I reckon you know you're welcome, same as always, don't you?"

Young Matt returned the other's look fairly; "I ain't never doubted it, Jim. But things is a heap different now,

The two understood each other perfectly. Said Jim, drawing a long breath, "Well I wish you'd come over just

"Maybe not," assented Jim. "But I'd like mighty well to have you come just the same." Then he drew closer to

his young friend; "I've been aimin' to ride over and see you, Matt; but Sammy said you was a comin' this

evenin', and I 'lowed this would be soon enough. I reckon you know what Wash Gibbs is tellin' he aims to do

The giant drew himself up with a grim smile, "I've heard a good bit, Jim. But you don't need to mind about

The older man surveyed the great form of the other with a critical eye, as he returned, "Durned if I don't

believe you'd push him mighty close, if he'd only play fair. Butbut I 'lowed you ought to know it was a

"I have knowed it for a long time," said the other cheerfully; "but I heard 'Preachin' Bill' say once, that if a

feller don't fuss about what he knows for sure, the things he don't know ain't apt to bother him none. It's this

" 'Preachin' Bill' hits it every pop, don't he?" exclaimed Jim, admiringly. "But there's somethin' else you ought

to know, too, Matt. Wash has done made his threats agin the old man down there."

"You mean Dad Howitt?" said Young Matt, sharply. "What's Wash got agin Dad, Jim?"

Mr. Lane shifted uneasily, "Some fool notion of hisn. You mind old man Lewis, I reckon?"

The big man's muscles tightened. "Dad told us about his stoppin' at the ranch the other night. Wash Gibbs

"I ain't told nobody about this, Grant, and you can do as you like about tellin' your father, and the old man.

Before more could be said, Sammy appeared in the doorway, and soon the two young people were riding on

their way. Long after they had passed from sight in the depth of the forest, the dark mountaineer stood at the

Young Matt was like a captive, tugging at his bonds. Mr. Lane's words had stirred the fire, and the girl's

presence by his side added fuel to the flame. He could not speak. He dared not even look at her, but rode with

his eyes fixed upon the ground, where the sunlight fell in long bars of gold. Sammy, too, was silent. She felt

something that was strangely like fear, when she found herself alone with her big neighbor. Now and then she

glanced timidly up at him and tried to find some word with which to break the silence. She half wished that

she had not come. So they rode together through the lights and shadows down into the valley, the only

At last the girl spoke, "It's mighty good of you to take me over to Mandy's tonight. There ain't no one else I

could o' gone with." There was no reply, and Sammy, seeming not to notice, continued talking in a

matteroffact tone that soonfor such is the way of a womanwon him from his mood, and the two

Just after they had crossed Fall Creek at Slick Rock Ford, some two miles below the mill, Young Matt leaned

from his saddle, and for a little way studied the ground carefully. When he sat erect again, he remarked, with

the air of one who had reached a conclusion, "Wouldn't wonder but there'll be doin's at Ford's tonight, sure

"There's sure to be," returned the girl; "everybody'll be there. Mandy's folks from over on Long Creek are

comin', and some from the mouth of the James. Mandy wanted Daddy to play for 'em, but he says he can't

play for parties no more, and they got that old fiddlin' Jake from the Flag neighborhood, I guess."

"There'll be somethin' a heap more excitin' than fiddlin' and dancin', accordin' to my guess," returned Young

Her escort pointed to the print of a mule's shoe in the soft soil of the low bottom land. "That there's Wash

Gibbs's dun mule, and he's headed down the creek for Jennings's still. Wash'll meet a lot of his gang from

over on the river, and like's not they'll go from there to the party. I wish your dad was goin' to do the playin'

It was full dark before they reached the Ford clearing. The faint, far away sound of a violin, seeming strange

and out of place in the gloomy solitude of the great woods, first told them that other guests had already

arrived. Then as they drew nearer and the tones of the instrument grew louder, they could hear the rhythmic

swing and beat of heavily shod feet upon the rough board floors, with the shrill cries of the caller, and the half

savage, half pathetic singsong of the backwoods dancers, singing, "Missouri Gal."

Reaching the edge of the clearing, they involuntarily checked their horses, stopping just within the shadow of

the timber. Here the sound of the squeaking fiddle, the shouting caller, the stamping feet, and the swinging

dancers came with full force; and, through the open door and windows of the log house, they could see the

wheeling, swaying figures of coatless men and calico gowned women, while the light, streaming out, opened

long lanes in the dusk. About them in the forest's edge, standing in groups under the trees, were the shadowy

forms of saddle horses and mules, tied by their bridle reins to the lower branches; and nearer to the cabin, two

or three teams, tied to the railfence, stood hitched to big wagons in which were splintbottom chairs for

During the evening, the men tried in their rough, good natured way, to joke Young Matt about taking

advantage of Ollie Stewart's absence, but they very soon learned that, while the big fellow was ready to enter

heartily into all the fun of the occasion, he would not receive as a jest any allusion to his relation to the girl,

whom he had escorted to the party. Sammy, too, when her big companion was not near, suffered from the

"Ollie Stewart don't own me yet," she declared with a toss of the head, when someone threatened to write her

"No," replied one of her tormentors, "but you ain't aimin' to miss your chance o' goin' t' th' city t' live with

In the laugh that followed, Sammy was claimed by a tall woodsman for the next dance, and escaped to take

"Well, Ollie'll sure make a good man for her," remarked another joker; "if he don't walk th' chalk, she can

"She'll surely marry him, alright," said the first, " 'cause he's got th' money, but she's goin' t' have a heap o'

fun makin' Young Matt play th' fool before she leaves th' woods. He ain't took his eyes off her t'night.

"I notice they take mighty good care t' laugh behind his back," flashed little blackeyed Annie Brooke from

Young Matt, who had been dancing with Mandy Ford, came up behind the group just in time to hear their

remarks. Two or three who saw him within hearing tried to warn the speakers, but while everybody around

them saw the situation, the two men caught the frantic signals of their friends too late. The music suddenly

stopped. The dancers were still. By instinct every eye in the room was fixed upon the little group, as the

The big mountaineer took one long step toward the two who had spoken, his brow dark with rage, his huge

fists clenched. But, even as his powerful muscles contracted for the expected blow, the giant came to a dead

stop. Slowly his arm relaxed. His hand dropped to his side. Then, turning deliberately, he walked to the door,

As the big man stepped from the room, a gasp of astonishment escaped from the company, and the two

jokers, with frightened faces, broke into a shrill, nervous laughter. Then a buzz of talk went round; the

fiddlers struck up again; the callers shouted; the dancers stamped, and bowed, and swung their partners as

And out in the night under the trees, at the edge of the gloomy forest, the strongest man in the hills was

saying over and over to the big, white faced sorrel, "I don't dare do it. I don't dare. Dad Howitt wouldn't. He

Very soon two figures left the house, and hurried toward a bunch of saddle horses near by. They had untied

their animals, and were about to mount, when suddenly a huge form stepped from the shadows to their horses'

heads. "Put up your guns, boys," said Young Matt calmly. "I reckon you know that if I'd wanted trouble, it

The weapons were not drawn, and the big man continued, "Dad Howitt says a feller always whips himself

every time he fights when there ain't nono principle evolved. I don't guess Dad would see ary principle in

this, 'cause there might be some truth in what you boys said. I reckon I am somethin' at playin' a fool, but it

"That's alright," returned the big fellow; "But you'd better tie up again and go back into the house and dance a

NOT until the party was breaking up, and he saw Sammy in the doorway, did Young Matt go back to the

When they had ridden again out of the circle of light, and the laughter and shouting of the guests was no

longer heard, Sammy tried in vain to arouse her silent escort, chatting gaily about the pleasures of the

evening. But all the young man's reserve had returned. When she did force him to speak, his responses were

so short and cold that at last the girl, too, was silent. Then, manlike, he wished she would continue talking.

By the time they reached Compton Ridge the moon was well up. For the last two miles Sammy had been

watching the wavering shafts of light that slipped through tremulous leaves and swaying branches. As they

rode, a thousand fantastic shapes appeared and vanished along the way, and now and then as the sound of

their horses' feet echoed through the silent forest, some wild thing in the underbrush leaped away into the

Coming out on top of the narrow ridge, the brown pony crowded closer to the big, white faced sorrel, and the

girl, stirred by the weird loveliness of the scene, broke the silence with an exclamation, "O Matt! Ain't it fine?

Look there!" She pointed to the view ahead. "Makes me feel like I could keep on a goin', and goin', and never

The man, too, felt the witchery of the night. The horses were crowding more closely together now, and,

leaning forward, the girl looked up into his face; "What's the matter, Matt? Why don't you talk to me? You

The sorrel was jerked farther away. "It's true enough, so far as it touches me," returned the man shortly.

"I don't know," she replied. "Let's don't talk about that tonight. I don't want even to think about it, not

tonight. Youyou don't believe what they was a sayin', Matt; you know you don't. You mustn't ever

believe such as that. II never could get along without you and Aunt Mollie and Uncle Matt, nohow." The

brown pony was again crowding closer to his mate. The girl laid a hand on her companion's arm. "Say you

don't blame me for what they said, Matt. You know I wouldn't do no such a thing even if I could. There

mustn't anything ever come between you and me; nevernever. II want us always to be like we are now.

You've been so good to me ever since I was a little trick, and you whipped big Lem Wheeler for teasin' me.

II don't guess I could get along without knowin' you was around somewhere." She finished with a half sob.

It was almost too much. The man swung around in his saddle, and the horses, apparently of their own accord,

stopped. Without a word, the big fellow stretched forth his arms, and the girl, as if swept by a force beyond

The spell was broken by the trampling of horses and the sound of loud voices. For a moment they held their

places, motionless, as if rudely awakened from a dream. The sound was coming nearer. Then Young Matt

spoke, "It's Wash Gibbs and his crowd from the still. Ride into the brush quick."

There was no time for flight. In the bright moonlight, they would have been easily recognized, and a wild

chase would have followed. Leaving the road, they forced their horses into a thick clump of bushes, where

they dismounted, to hold the animals by their heads. Scarcely had they gained this position when the first of

the crowd reached the spot where they had been a moment before. Wash Gibbs was easily distinguished by

his gigantic form, and with him were ten others, riding two and two, several of whom were known to Young

Matt as the most lawless characters in the country. All were fired by drink and were laughing and talking,

"I say, Wash," called one, "What'll you do if Young Matt's there?" The unseen listeners could not hear the

leader's reply; but those about the speaker laughed and shouted with great glee. Then the two in the bushes

distinctly heard the last man in the line ask his companion, "Do you reckon he'll put up a fight?" and as they

When the sounds had died away; Young Matt turned to the girl; "Come on; we've got to keep 'em in sight."

But Sammy held back. "Oh, Matt, don't go yet. We must not. Didn't you hear what that man said? It's you

"No, 'tain't; they ain't a wantin' me," the big fellow replied. And before the young woman could protest

further, he lifted her to the saddle as easily as if she were a child. Then, springing to the back of his own

horse, he led the way at a pace that would keep them within hearing of the company of men.

They had not gone far when Young Matt stopped the horse to listen intently; and soon by the sound he could

tell that the party ahead had turned off the ridge road and were following the trail that leads down the eastern

side of the mountain. A moment longer the mountaineer listened, as if to make sure; then he spoke; "Them

devils are goin' to the ranch after Dad Howitt. Sammy, you've got to ride hard tonight. They won't hear you

now, and they're getting farther off every minute. There ain't no other way, and, I know you'll do it for the old

man. Get home as quick as you can and tell Jim what's up. Tell him I'll hold 'em until he gets there." Even as

"But, Matt," protested the girl; "how can you? You can't get by them. How're you goin' to get there in time?"

"Down the mountain; short cut;" he answered as he jerked the heavy saddle from his horse and threw it under

Slipping the bridle from the sorrel, he turned the animal loose, and, removing his coat and hat, laid them with

the saddle. Then to the girl on the pony he said sharply, "Go on, Sammy. Why don't you go on? Don't you see

how you're losin' time? Them devils will do for Dad Howitt like they done for old man Lewis. Your father's

the only man can stop 'em now. Ride hard, girl, and tell Jim to hurry. Andand, goodby, Sammy." As he

finished, he spoke to her horse and struck him such a blow that the animal sprang away.

For a moment Sammy attempted to pull up her startled pony. Then Young Matt saw her lean forward in the

saddle, and urge the little horse to even greater speed. As they disappeared down the road, the giant turned

and ran crashing through the brush down the steep side of the mountain. There was no path to follow. And

with deep ravines to cross, rocky bluffs to descend or scale, and, in places, wild tangles of vines and brush

and fallen trees, the trip before him would have been a hard one even in the full light of day. At night, it was

When Sammy came in sight of her home, she began calling to her father, and, as the almost exhausted horse

dashed up to the big gate, the door of the cabin opened, and Jim came running out. Lifting his daughter from

the trembling pony, he helped her into the house, where she sobbed out her message.

At the first word, "Wash Gibbs," Jim reached for a cartridge belt, and, by the time Sammy had finished, he

had taken his Winchester from its brackets over the fireplace. Slipping a bridle on his horse that was feeding

in the yard, he sprang upon the animal's back without waiting for a saddle. "Stay in the cabin, girl, put out the

As Sammy turned back into the house, from away down in Mutton Hollow, on the night wind, came the

IT was after midnight when Mr. Howitt was rudely awakened. The bright moon shining through the windows

lit up the interior of the cabin and he easily recognized Young Matt standing by the bed, with Pete, who was

"Why, Matt, what is the matter?" exclaimed the shepherd, sitting up. He could not see that the big fellow's

clothing was torn, that his hat was gone, and that he was dripping with perspiration; but he could hear his

labored breathing. Strong as he was, the young giant was nearly exhausted by the strain of his race over the

"Get up quick, Dad; I'll tell you while you're puttin' on your clothes," the woodsman answered; and while the

shepherd dressed, he told him in a few words, finishing with, "Call Brave inside, and get your gun, with all

the shells you can find. Don't show a light for a minute. They'll be here any time now, and it'll be a good bit

The peaceful minded scholar could not grasp the meaning of the message; it was to him an impossible

thought; "You must be mistaken, Grant," he said. "Surely you are excited and unduly alarmed. Wash Gibbs

Young Matt replied gruffly, "I ain't makin' no mistake in the woods, Dad. You ain't in the city now, and there

ain't no one can hear you holler. Don't think I am scared neither, if that's what you mean. But there's ten of

them in that bunch, and they're bad ones. You'd better call Brave, sir. He'll be some help when it comes to the

But the other persisted, "You must be mistaken, lad. Why should any one wish to harm me? Those men are

only out fox hunting, or something like that. If they should be coming here, it is all a mistake; I can easily

"Explain, hell!" ejaculated the mountaineer. "I ask your pardon, Dad; but you don't know, not being raised in

these woods like me. Old man Lewis hadn't done nothing neither, and he explained, too; only he never got

through explainin'. They ain't got no reason. They're drunk. You've never seen Wash Gibbs drunk, and

tonight he's got his whole gang with him. I don't know why he's comin' after you, but, from what you told

me 'bout his stoppin' here that evenin', and what I've heard lately, I can guess. I know what he'll do when he

gets here, if we don't stop him. It'll be all the same to you whether he's right or wrong."

Brave came trotting into the cabin through the rear door, and lay down in his corner by the fireplace. "That's

mighty funny," said Young Matt. Then, as he glanced quickly around, "Where's Pete?"

The boy had slipped away while the two men were talking. Stepping outside they called several times; but,

save the "Whwhowhooo" of an owl in a big tree near the corral, there was no answer.

"The boy's alright, anyway," said the young man; "nothin' in the woods ever hurts Pete. He's safer there than

The shepherd did not reply. He seemed not to hear, but stood as though fascinated by the scene. He still could

not grasp the truth of the situation, but the beauty of the hour moved him deeply. "What a marvelous, what a

wonderful sight!" he said at last in a low tone. "I do not wonder the boy loves to roam the hills a night like

this. Look, Grant! See how soft the moonlight falls on that patch of grass this side of the old tree yonder, and

how black the shadow is under that bush, like the mouth of a cave, a witch's cave. I am sure there are ghosts

and goblins in there, with fairies and gnomes, and perhaps a dragon or two. And see, lad, how the great hills

rise into the sky. How grand, how beautiful the world is! It is good to live, Matt, though life be sometimes

At the old scholar's words and manner, the mountaineer, too, forgot for a moment the thing that had brought

him there, and a look of awe and wonder came over his rugged features, as the shepherd, with his face turned

upward and his deep voice full of emotion, repeated, "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the

firmament showeth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge."

The owl left his place in the old tree and flew across the moonlit clearing into the deeper gloom of the woods.

Inside the cabin the dog barked, and through the still night, from down the valley, where the ranch trail

crosses the creek, came the rattle of horses' feet on the rocky floor of the little stream, and the faint sound of

voices. Young Matt started, and again the man of the wilderness was master of the situation. "They're comin',

Reentering the cabin, Mr. Howitt quieted the dog, while his companion fastened the rear door, and, in the

silence, while they waited, a cricket under the corner of the house sang his plaintive song. The sound of

voices grew louder as the horses drew nearer. Brave growled and would have barked again, but was quieted

The older man smiled to himself. It all seemed to him so like a child's game. He had watched the

mountaineer's preparation with amused interest, and had followed the young woodsman's directions, even to

the loaded shotgun in his hand, as one would humor a boy in his play. The scholar's mind, trained to consider

the problems of civilization, and to recognize the dangers of the city, refused to entertain seriously the

thought that there, in the peaceful woods, in the dead of night, a company of ruffians was seeking to do him

The voices had ceased, and the listeners heard only the sound of the horses' feet, as the party passed the

ruined cabin under the bluff. A moment or two later the riders stopped in front of the ranch house. Brave

Young Matt was at the window. "I see them," he whispered. "They're gettin' off their horses, and tyin' them to

the corral fence." The smile on the shepherd's face vanished, and he experienced a queer sensation; it was as

The other continued his whispered report; "They're bunchin' up now under the old tree, talkin' things over.

Don't know what to make of the dog not bein' around, I reckon. Now they're takin' a drink. It takes a lot of

whiskey to help ten men jump onto one old man, and him a stranger in the Woods. Now Wash is sendin' two

of them around to the back, so you can't slip out into the brush. Shhh, here comes a couple more to try

the front door." He slipped quietly across the room to the shepherd's side. The visitors came softly up to the

front door, and tried it gently. A moment later the rear door was tried in the same way.

"Let Brave speak to them," whispered Young Matt; and the dog, feeling the restraining hand removed, barked

Mr. Howitt, following his companion's whispered instructions, spoke aloud, "What's the matter, Brave?"

A bold knock at the front door caused the dog to redouble his efforts, until his master commanded him to be

"Young Matt's took powerful bad," answered a voice; "an' they want you t' come up t' th' house, an' doctor

The giant at Mr. Howitt's side growled under his breath, "Oh, I'm sick, am I? There's them that'll be a heap

sicker before mornin'. Keep on a talkin', Dad. We've got to make all the time we can, so's Jim can get here."

The shepherd called again, "I do not recognize your voice. You must tell me who you are."

Outside there was a short consultation, followed by a still louder knock; "Open up. Why don't you open up

an' see who we are?" while from under the tree came a call, "Quit your foolin' an' bring him out o' there, you

fellers." This command was followed by a still more vigorous hammering at the door, and the threats, "Open

Mr. Howitt whispered to his companion, "Let me open the door and talk to them, Grant. Surely they will

But the woodsman returned, "Talk to a nest of rattlers! Jim Lane's the only man that can talk to them now.

We've got to stand them off as long as we can." As he spoke he raised his revolver, and was about to fire a

shot through the door, when a slight noise at one side of the room attracted his attention. He turned just in

time to catch a glimpse of a face as it was withdrawn from one of the little windows. The noise at the door

ceased suddenly, and they heard the two men running to join the group under the tree.

"They've found you ain't alone," whispered the big fellow, springing to the window again. And, as a wild

drunken yell came from the visitors, he added, "Seems like they're some excited about it, too. They're holdin'

a regular powwow. What do you reckon they're thinkin'? Hope they'll keep it up 'till JimShhh Here

The man approached the cabin, but stopped some distance away and called, "Hello, ol' man!"

"Yes! We all 'lowed hit war a friend, an' we all want t' see him powerful bad. Can't he come out an' play with

Young Matt whispered, "Keep him a talkin', Dad;" and Mr. Howitt called, "He doesn't feel like playing

At this the spokesman dropped his bantering tone, "Look a here, ol' man. We'uns ain't got no time t' be a

foolin' here. We know who that feller is, an' we're a goin' t' have him. He's been a sneakin' 'round this here

neighborhood long enough. As fer you, Mister, we 'low your health'll be some better back where you come

from; an' we aim t' hep you leave this neck o' th' woods right sudden. Open up, now, an' turn that there feller

over t' us; an' we'll let you off easy like. If you don't, we'll bust in th' door, an' make you both dance t' th' same

The old shepherd was replying kindly, when his speech was interrupted by a pistol shot, and a command from

the leader, at which the entire gang charged toward the cabin, firing as they came, and making the little valley

From his window, Young Matt coolly emptied his revolver, but even as the crowd faltered, there came from

their leader another volley of oaths. "Go on, go on," yelled Wash. "Their guns are empty, now. Fetch 'em out

'fore they can load again." With an answering yell, the others responded. Carrying a small log they made for

the cabin at full speed. One crashing blowthe door flew from its hinges, and the opening was filled with

the drunken, sweating, swearing crew. The same instant, Young Matt dropped his useless revolver, and,

springing forward, met them on the threshold. The old shepherdwho had not fired a shotcould scarcely

believe his eyes, as he saw the giant catch the nearest man by the shoulder and waist, and, lifting him high

above his head, fling him with terrific force full into the faces of his bewildered companions.

Those who were not knocked down by the strange weapon scattered in every direction, crouching low. For a

moment the big fellow was master of the situation, and, standing alone in the doorway, in the full light of the

"Hell, boys! Hit's Young Matt hisself!" yelled the one who had raised a laugh, by saying that Young Matt was

"Yes! It's me, Bill Simpson. I'm sure ailin' tonight. I need somebody to go for a doctor powerful bad,"

"We never knowed it war you," whined the other carefully lengthening the distance between the big man on

No, I reckon not. You all played to find an old man alone, and do for him like you've done for others. A fine

While he was speaking, the men slowly retreated, to gather about their big leader under the tree, two of them

being assisted by their companions, and one other limping painfully. Young Matt raised his voice, "I know

you, Wash Gibbs, and I know this here is your dirty work. You've been a braggin' what you'd do when you

met up with me. I'm here now. Why don't you come up like a man? Come out here into the light and let's you

and me settle this thing right now. You all" Crack! A jet of flame leaped out of the shadow, and the

With a cry the shepherd ran to the side of his friend; but in a moment the crowd had again reached the cabin,

and the old man was dragged from his fallen companion. With all his strength, Mr. Howitt struggled with his

captors, begging them to let him go to the boy. But his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and when

he still plead with those who held him, Wash Gibbs struck him full in the mouth, a blow that brought the

They were leading the stunned and helpless old man away, when someone, who was bending over Young

Matt, exclaimed, "You missed him, Wash! Jest raked him. He'll be up in a minute. An' hell 'll be to pay in th'

The big fellow already showed signs of returning consciousness, and, by the time they had tied his arms, he

was able to struggle to his feet. For a moment he looked dizzily around, his eyes turning from one evil,

triumphant face to another, until they rested upon the bleeding countenance of his old friend. The shepherd's

eyes smiled back a message of cheer, and the kind old man tried to speak, when Wash Gibbs made another

At this, a cry like the roar of a mad bull came from the young giant. In his rage, he seemed suddenly endowed

with almost superhuman strength. Before a man of the startled company could do more than gasp with

astonishment, he had shaken himself free from those who held him, and, breaking the rope with which he was

But it was useless. For a moment, no one moved. Then a crashing blow, from the butt of a rifle in the hands

of a man in the rear of the two prisoners, sent Young Matt once more to the ground. When he again regained

consciousness, he was so securely bound, that, even with his great strength, he was helpless.

Leading their captives to the old tree, the men withdrew for a short consultation, and to refresh themselves

with another drink. When they had finished, Gibbs addressed the two friends; "We'uns didn't aim to hurt you,

Young Matt, but seein' how you're so thick with this here feller, an' 'pear to know so much 'bout him, I reckon

we can't hep ourselves nohow." He turned to the shepherd; "There's been too dad burned much funny work, at

this ranch, since you come, Mister, an' we'uns 'low we'll just give warnin' that we don't want no more

strangers snoopin' 'round this neighborhood, an' we don't aim t' have 'em neither. We'uns 'low we can take

The shepherd tried to speak, but Gibbs, with an oath, roared, "Shut up, I tell you. Shut up. I've been a

watchin', an' I know what I know. Fix that there rope, boys, an we'll get through, an' mosey 'long out o' here.

A rope was thrown over a limb above their heads, and a man approached the shepherd with the noose. Young

Matt struggled desperately. With an evil grin, Gibbs said, "Don't you worry, sonny; you're a goin', too." And

at his signal another rope was fixed, and the noose placed over the young man's head. The men took their

The shepherd spoke softly to his companion, "Thank you, my boy." The giant began another desperate

Wash Gibbs, raising his hand, opened his lips to give the signal. But no word came. The brutal jaw dropped.

The ruffian's eyes fairly started from his head, while the men who held the ropes, stood as if turned to stone,

as a long wailing cry came from the dark shadows under the bluff. There was a moment of deathlike silence.

Then another awful, sobbing groan, rising into a blood curdling scream, came from down the road, and, from

the direction of the ruined cabin, advanced a ghostly figure. Through the deep shadows and the misty light, it

A shuddering gasp of horror burst from the frightened crew under the tree. Then, at a louder wail from the

approaching apparition, they broke and ran. Like wild men they leaped for their horses, and, flinging

As the outlaws fled, the spectre paused. Then it started onward toward the two men. Again it hesitated. For a

moment it remained motionless, then turned and vanished, just as Jim Lane came flying out of the timber,

THE books sent for by Mr. Howitt came a few days after the adventure at the ranch, and Sammy, with all the

intensity of her nature, plunged at once into the work mapped out for her by the shepherd.

All through the long summer and autumn, the girl spent hours with her teacher out on the hillside. Seated on

some rocky bench, or reclining on the grassy slope, she would recite the lessons he gave her, or listen to him,

as he read aloud from character forming books, pausing now and then to slip in some comment to make the

At other times, while they followed the sheep, leisurely, from one feeding ground to another, he provoked her

to talk of the things they were reading, and, while he thus led her to think, he as carefully guarded her speech

At first they took the old familiar path of early intellectual training, but, little by little, he taught her to find

the way for herself. Always as she advanced, he encouraged her to look for the life that is more than meat,

and always, while they read and talked together, there was opened before them the great book wherein God

has written, in the language of mountain, and tree, and sky, and flower, and brook, the things that make truly

From her mother, and from her own free life in the hills, Sammy had a body beautiful with the grace and

strength of perfect physical womanhood. With this, she had inherited from many generations of gentlefolk a

mind and spirit susceptible of the highest culture. Unspoiled by the hothouse, forcing process, that so often

leaves the intellectual powers jaded and weak, before they have fully developed, and free from the

atmosphere of falsehood and surface culture, in which so many souls struggle for their very existence, the girl

took what her teacher had to offer and made it her own. With a mental appetite uninjured by titbits and

Her progress was marvelous, and the old scholar often had cause to wonder at the quickness with which his

pupil's clear mind grasped the truths he showed her. Often before he could finish speaking, a bright nod, or

word, showed that she had caught the purpose of his speech, while that wide eager look, and the question that

followed, revealed her readiness to go on. It was as though many of the things he sought to teach her slept

In time, the girl's very clothing, and even her manner of dressing her hair, came to reveal the development

and transformation of her inner self; not that she dressed more expensively; she could not do that; but in the

selection of materials, and in the many subtle touches that give distinction even to the plainest apparel, she

showed her awakening. To help her in this, there was Aunt Mollie and a good ladies' magazine, which came

Sammy's father, too, came unconsciously under the shepherd's influence. As his daughter grew, the man

responded to the change in her, as he always responded to her every thought and mood. 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

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. Then in turn this purple changed to a deeper, colder blue, when the leaves had

With the cold weather, the lessons were continued in the Lane cabin on the southern slope of Dewey. All day,

while the shepherd was busy at the ranch, Sammy pored over her books; and every evening the old scholar

climbed the hill to direct the work of his pupil, with long Jim sitting, silent and grim, by the fireside, listening

to the talk, and seeing who knows what visions of the long ago in the dancing flame.

And so the winter passed, and the spring came again; came, with its soft beauty of tender green; its wealth of

blossoms, and sweet fragrance of growing things. Then came the summer; that terrible summer, when all the

promises of spring were broken; when no rain fell for weary months, and the settlers, in the total failure of

IT began to be serious by the time corn was waist high. When the growing grain lost its rich color and the

long blades rustled dryly in the hot air, the settlers looked anxiously for signs of coming rain. The one topic

of conversation at the mill was the condition of the crops. The stories were all of past drought or tales of

The moon changed and still the same hot dry sky, with only now and then a shred of cloud floating lazily

across the blue. The grass in the glades grew parched and harsh; the trees rattled their shriveled leaves; creek

beds lay glaring white and dusty in the sun; and all the wild things in the woods sought the distant river

bottom. In the Mutton Hollow neighborhood, only the spring below the Matthews place held water; and all

day the stock on the range, crowding around the little pool, tramped out the narrow fringe of green grass

Fall came and there was no relief. Crops were a total failure. Many people were without means to buy fed for

themselves and their stock for the coming winter and the months until another crop could be grown and

harvested. Family after family loaded their few household goods into the big covered wagons, and, deserting

their homes, set out to seek relief in more fortunate or more wealthy portions of the country.

The day came at last when Sammy found the shepherd in the little grove, near the deer lick, and told him that

"Father says there is nothing else to do. Even if we could squeeze through the winter, we couldn't hold out

Throwing herself on the ground, she picked a big yellow daisy from a cluster, that, finding a little moisture

oozing from a dirtfilled crevice of the rock, had managed to live, and began pulling it to pieces.

In silence the old man watched her. He had not before realized how much the companionship of this girl was

to him. To the refined and cultivated scholar, whose lot had been cast so strangely with the rude people of the

mountain wilderness, the companionship of such a spirit and mind was a necessity. Unconsciously Sammy

had supplied the one thing lacking, and by her demands upon his thought had kept the shepherd from mental

stagnation and morbid brooding. Day after day she had grown into his lifehis intellectual and spiritual

child, and though she had dropped the rude speech of the native, she persisted still in calling him by his

backwoods title, "Dad." But the little word had come to hold a new meaning for them both. He saw now, all

One by one, the petals from the big daisy fell from the girl's hand, dull splashes of gold against her dress and

Sammy shook her head without looking up; "Don't know; anywhere that Daddy can earn a livin'I mean

"Pretty soon now; there ain't nothin'there is nothing to stay for now. Father told me when he went away

day before yesterday that we would go as soon as he returned. He promised to be home sometime this

Sammy continued; "II've just been over to the Matthews place. Uncle Matt has been gone three days now.

I guess you know about that, too. Aunt Mollie told me all about it. Oh, I wish, I wish I could help them." She

reached for another daisy and two big tears rolled from under the long lashes to fall with the golden petals.

"We'll come back in the spring when it's time to plant again, but what if you're not here?"

Her teacher could not answer for a time; then he said, in an odd, hesitating way, "Have you heard from Ollie

The girl raised her head, her quick, rare instinct divining his unspoken thought, and something she saw in her

old friend's face brought just a hint of a smile to her own tearful eyes. She knew him so well. "You don't

mean that, Dad," she said. "We just couldn't do that. I had a letter from him yesterday offering us money, but

They spent the afternoon together, and in the evening, at Sammy's Lookout on the shoulder of Dewey, she

TO purchase the sheep and the ranch in the Hollow, Mr. Matthews placed a heavy mortgage not only upon

the ranch land but upon the homestead as well. In the loss of his stock the woodsman would lose all he had

When the total failure of the crops became a certainty, and it was clear that the country could not produce

enough feed to carry his flock through the winter until the spring grass, Mr. Matthews went to the settlement

He found the little town in confusion and the doors of the bank closed. The night before a band of men had

entered the building, and, forcing the safe, had escaped to the mountains with their booty.

Old Matt's interview with the bank official was brief. "It is simply impossible, Mr. Matthews," said the man;

Then the mountaineer had come the long way home. As he rode slowly up the last hill, the giant form stooped

with a weariness unusual, and the rugged face looked so worn and hopelessly sad, that Aunt Mollie, who was

waiting at the gate, did not need words to tell her of his failure. The old man got stiffly down from his horse,

and when he had removed saddle and bridle, and had turned the animal into the lot, the two walked toward

the house. But they did not enter the building. Without a word they turned aside from the steps and followed

the little path to the graves in the rude enclosure beneath the pines, where the sunshine fell only in patches

That night after supper Mr. Matthews went down into the Hollow to see the shepherd. "It's goin' to be mighty

hard on Mollie and me a leavin' the old place up yonder," said the big man, when he had told of his

unsuccessful trip. "It won't matter so much to the boy, 'cause he's young yet, but we've worked hard, Mr.

Howitt, for that homeMollie and me has. She's up there now a sittin' on the porch and a livin' it all over

again, like she does when there ain't no one around, with her face turned toward them pines west of the

house. It's mighty nigh a breakin' her heart just to think of leavin', but she'll hide it all from me when I go up

there, thinkin' not to worry meas if I didn't know. An' it's goin to be mighty hard to part with you, too, Mr.

Howitt. I don't reckon you'll ever know, sir, how much you done for us; for me most of all."

The shepherd made as if to interrupt, but the big man continued; "Don't you suppose we can see, sir, how

you've made over the whole neighborhood. There ain't a family for ten miles that don't come to you when

they're in trouble. An' there's Sammy Lane a readin', an' talkin' just about the same as you do yourself, fit to

hold up her end with anybody what's got education, and Jim himself's changed something wonderful. Same

old Jim in lots of ways, but something more, somehow, though I can't tell it. Then there's my boy, Grant. I

know right well what he'd been if it wasn't for you to show him what the best kind of a man's like. He'd a sure

never knowed it from me. I don't mean as he'd a ever been a bad man like Wash Gibbs, or a no account triflin'

one, like them Thompsons, but he couldn't never a been what he is now, through and through, if he hadn't a

known you. There's a heap more, too, all over the country that you've talked to a Sunday, when the parson

wasn't here. As for me, youyou sure been a God's blessin' to me and Mollie, Mr. Howitt."

Again the shepherd moved uneasily, as if to protest, but his big friend made a gesture of silence; "Let me say

it while I got a chance, Dad." And the other bowed his head while Old Matt continued; "I can't tell how it is,

an' I don't reckon you'd understand any way, but stayin' as you have after our talk that first night you come,

an' livin' down here on this spot alone, after what you know, it'sit's just like I was a little kid, an' you was a

standin' big and strong like between me an' a great blackness that was somethin' awful. I reckon it looks

foolish, me a talkin' this way. Maybe it's because I'm gettin' old, but anyhow I wanted you to know."

The shepherd raised his head and his face was aglow with a glad triumphant light, while his deep voice was

full of meaning as he said gently, "It has been more to me, too, than you think, Mr. Matthews. I ought to tell

youII will tell you" he checked himself and added, "some day." Then he changed the topic quickly.

"Are you sure there is no one who can help you over this hard time? Is there no way?"

The mountaineer shook his head. "I've gone over it all again an' again. Williams at the bank is the only man I

know who had the money, an' he's done for now by this robbery. You see I can't go to strangers, Dad; I ain't

"Who could buy? or who would buy, if they could, in this country, without a bit of feed? And then look at

'em, they're so poor an' weak, now, they couldn't stand the drivin' to the shippin' place. They'd die all along

the road. They're just skin an' bones, Dad; ain't no butcher would pay freight on 'em, even."

Mr. Howitt sat with knitted brow, staring into the shadows. Then he said slowly, "There is that old mine. If

Again the mountaineer shook his head. "Colonel Dewey would be a mighty old man now, Dad, even if he

were livin.' 'Tain't likely he'll ever come back, nor tain't likely the mine will ever be found without him. I

As he finished speaking, he rose to go, and the dog, springing up, dashed out of the cabin and across the

The two men looked at each other. "A rabbit," said Mr. Howitt. But they both knew that the well trained

shepherd dog never tracked a rabbit, and Old Matt's face was white when he mounted to ride away up the

Long the shepherd stood in the doorway looking out into the night, listening to the voices of the wilderness.

In his life in the hills he had found a little brightness, while in the old mountaineer's words that evening, he

had glimpsed a future happiness, of which he had scarcely dared to dream. With the single exception of that

one wild night, his life had been an unbroken calm. Now he was to leave it all. And for what?

He seemed to hear the rush and roar of the world beyond the ridges, as one in a quiet harbor hears outside the

thunder of the stormy sea. He shuddered. The gloom and mystery of it all crept into his heart. He was so

alone. But it was not the wilderness that made him shudder. It was the thought of the great, mad, cruel world

The dog growled again and faced threateningly toward the cliff. "What is it, Brave?" The only answer was an

uneasy whine as the animal crouched close to the man's feet. The shepherd peered into the darkness in the

direction of the ruined cabin. "God," he whispered, "how can I leave this place?"

He turned back into the house, closed and barred the door. With the manner of one making a resolution after

a hard struggle, he took writing material from the top shelf of the cupboard, and, seating himself at the table,

began to write. The hours slipped by, and page after page, closely written, came from the shepherd's pen,

while, as he wrote, the man's face grew worn and haggard. It was as though he lifted again the burden he had

learned to lay aside. At last it was finished. Placing the sheets in an envelope, he wrote the address with

While Mr. Howitt was writing his letter at the ranch, and Old Matt was tossing sleeplessly on his bed in the

big log house, a horseman rode slowly down from the Compton Ridge road. Stopping at the creek to water,

he pushed on up the mountain toward the Lane cabin. The horse walked with low hung head and lagging feet;

THE troubled night passed. The shepherd arose to see the sky above the eastern rim of the Hollow glowing

with the first soft light of a new day. Away over Compton Ridge one last, pale star hung, caught in the upper

branches of a dead pine. Not a leaf of the forest stirred. In awe the man watched the miracle of the morning,

as the glowing colors touched cloud after cloud, until the whole sky was aflame, and the star was gone.

Again he seemed to hear, faint and far away, the roar and surge of the troubled sea. With face uplifted, he

cried aloud, "O God, my Father, I ask thee not for the things that men deem great. I covet not wealth, nor

honor, nor ease; only peace; only that I may live free from those who do not understand; only that I may in

some measure make atonement; that I may win pardon. Oh, drive me not from this haven into the world

"Again, again," came back from the cliff on the other side of the clearing, and, as the echo died away in the

silent woods, a bush on top of the bluff stirred in the breathless air; stirred, and was still again. Somewhere up

on Dewey a crow croaked hoarsely to his mate; a cow on the range bawled loudly and the sheep in the corral

Reentering the cabin, the old man quickly built a fire, then, taking the bucket, went to the spring for water.

He must prepare his breakfast. Coming back with the brimming pail, he placed it on the bench and was

turning to the cupboard, when he noticed on the table a small oblong package. "Mr. Matthews must have left

Picking up the package he found that it was quite heavy, and, to his amazement, saw that it was addressed to

himself, in a strange, cramped printing, such letters as a child would make. He ripped open the covering and

read in the same crude writing: "This stuff is for you to give to the Matthews's and Jim Lane, but don't tell

anyone where you got it. And don't try to find out where it come from either, or you'll wish you hadn't. You

needn't be afraid. It's good money alright." The package contained gold pieces of various denominations.

With a low exclamation, the shepherd let the parcel slip, and the money fell in a shining heap on the floor. He

stood as in a dream, looking from the gold to the letter in his hand. Then, going to the door, he gazed long

and searchingly in every direction. Nothing unusual met his eye. Turning back into the cabin again, he caught

up the letter he had written, and stepped to the fireplace, an expression of relief upon his face. But with his

hand outstretched toward the flames, he paused, the letter still in his grasp, while the expression of relief gave

"The bank," he muttered; "the robbery." The shining pieces on the floor seemed to glisten mockingly; "No,

no, no," said the man. "Better the other way, and yet" He read the letter again. "It's good money, alright;

In his quandary, he heard a step without and looking up saw Pete in the open door.

The boy's sensitive face was aglow, as he said; "Pete's glad this morning; Pete saw the sky. Did Dad see the

Mr. Howitt nodded; then, moved by a sudden impulse, pointed to the money, and said, "Does Pete see this?

The boy drew near with curious eyes. "Dad doesn't know where it came from," continued the shepherd.

The youth gave a low laugh of delight; "Course Pete knows. Pete went up on Dewey this morning; 'way up to

the old signal tree, and course he took me with him. The sky was all soft and silvery, an' the clouds was full,

plumb full of gold, like that there." He pointed to the yellow coins on the floor. "Didn't Dad see? Some of it

The lad touched his friend on the arm, and with the other hand again pointed to the glittering heap on the

The man started and looked at the boy in wonder; "But why, why should it come to me at such a time as

" 'Cause you're the Shepherd of Mutton Hollow, Pete says. Don't be scared, Dad. Pete knows. It's sure God's

The shepherd turned to the fireplace and dropped the letter he had written upon the leaping flames.

THE Postoffice at the Forks occupied a commanding position in the northeast corner of Uncle Ike's cabin,

The fittings were in excellent taste, and the equipment fully adequate to the needs of the service: an old table,

on legs somewhat rickety; upon the table, a rude box, set on end and divided roughly into eight pigeon holes,

duly numbered; in the table, a drawer, filled a little with stamps and stationery, filled mostly with scraps of

leaf tobacco, and an odd company of veteran cob pipes, now on the retired list, or home on furlough; before

the table, a little old chair, wrought in some fearful and wonderful fashion from hickory sticks from which the

With every change of the weather, this chair, through some unknown but powerful influence, changed its

shape, thus becoming in its own way a sort of government weather bureau. And if in all this "land of the free

and home of the brave" there be a single throne, it must be this same curiously changeable chair. In spite of,

or perhaps because of, its strange powers, that weird piece of furniture managed to make itself so felt that it

was religiously avoided by every native who called at the Forks. Not the wildest "HillBilly" of them all

dared to occupy for a moment this seat of Uncle Sam's representative. Here Uncle Ike reigned supreme over

his four feet square of government property. And you may be very sure that the mighty mysterious thing

known as the "gov'ment" lost none of its might, and nothing of its mystery, at the hands of its worthy official.

Uncle Ike left the group in front of the cabin, and, hurriedly entering the office, seated himself upon his

throne. A tall, thin, slow moving mule, brought to before a certain tree with the grace and dignity of an ocean

liner coming into her slip. Zeke Wheeler dismounted, and, with the saddle mail pouch over his arm, stalked

solemnly across the yard and into the house, his spurs clinking on the gravel and rattling over the floor.

Following the mail carrier, the group of mountaineers entered, and, with Uncle Ike's entire family, took their

places at a respectful distance from the holy place of mystery and might, in the north east corner of the room.

The postmaster, with a key attached by a small chain to one corner of the table, unlocked the flat pouch and

The empty pouch was kicked contemptuously beneath the table. The papers were tossed to one side. All eyes

were fixed on the little bundle of first class matter. In a breathless silence the official cut the string. The

silence was broken. "Ba thundas! Mary Liz Jolly'll sure be glad t' git that there letter. Her man's been gone

nigh onto three months now, an' ain't wrote but once. That was when he was in Mayville. I see he's down in

th' nation now at Auburn, sendin' Mary Liz some money, I reckon. Ba thundas, it's 'bout time! What!"

"James Creelman, ESQ., Wal, dad burn me. Jim done wrote t' that there house in Chicago more'n three

weeks ago, 'bout a watch they're a sellin' fer fo' dollars. Ba thundas! They'd sure answer me quicker'n that, er

they'd hear turkey. What! I done tole Jim it was only a blamed ol' fo' dollar house anyhow."

At this many nods and glances were exchanged by the group in silent admiration of the "gov'ment," and one

mountaineer, bold even to recklessness, remarked, "Jim must have a heap o' money t' be a buyin' four dollar

watches. Must er sold that gray mule o' hisn; hit'd fetch 'bout that much, I reckon."

"Much you know 'bout it, Buck Boswell. Let me tell you, Jim he works, he does. He's the workingest man in

this here county, ba thundas! What! Jim he don't sit 'round like you fellers down on th' creek an' wait fer

pawpaws to git ripe, so he can git a square meal, ba thundas!" The bold mountaineer wilted.

Uncle Ike proceeded with the business of his office. "Here's Sallie Rhodes done writ her maw a card from th'

Corners. Sallie's been a visitin' her paw's folks. Says she'll be home on th' hack next mail, an' wants her maw

t' meet her here. You can take th' hack next time, Zeke. An' ba thundas! Here's 'nother letter from that

dummed Ollie Stewart. Sammy ain't been over yet after th' last one he wrote. Ba thundas! If it weren't for

them blamed gov'ment inspectors, I'd sure put a spoke in his wheel. What! I'd everlastin'ly seva' th'

connections between that gentleman an' these here Ozarks. Dad burn me, if I wouldn't. He'd better take one o'

them new fangled women in th' city, where he's gone to, an' not come back here for one o' our girls. I don't

believe Sammy'd care much, nohow, ba thundas! What!" The official tossed the letter into a pigeon hole

beside its neglected mate, with a gesture that fully expressed the opinion of the entire community, regarding

Sammy got the letters the next day, and read them over and over, as she rode slowly through the sweet

smelling woods. The last one told her that Ollie was coming home on a visit. "Thursday, that's the day after

It was a very different letter from those Ollie had written when first he left the woods. Most of all it was

different in that indefinable something by which a man reveals his place in life in the letters he writes, no less

than in the words he speaks, or the clothing he wears. As Sammy rode slowly through the pinery and down

the narrow Fall Creek valley, she was thinking of these things, thinking of these things seriously.

The girl had been in a way conscious of the gradual change in Ollie's life, as it had been revealed in his

letters, but she had failed to connect the change with her lover. The world into which young Stewart had

gone, and by which he was being formed, was so foreign to the only world known to Sammy, that, while she

realized in a dim way that he was undergoing a transformation, she still saw him in her mind as the

backwoods boy. With the announcement of his return, and the thought that she would soon meet him face to

face, it burst upon her suddenly that her lover was a stranger. The man who wrote this letter was not the man

Passing the mill and the blacksmith shop, the brown pony with his absorbed rider began to climb the steep

road to the Matthews place. Half way up the hill, the little horse, stepping on a loose stone, stumbled,

As a flash of lightning on a black night reveals well known landmarks and familiar objects, this incident

brought back to Sammy the evening when, with Ollie and Young Matt, she had climbed the same way; when

her horse had stumbled and her face had come close to the face of the big fellow whose hand was on the

pony's neck. The whole scene came before her with a vividness that was startling; every word, every look,

every gesture of the two young men, her own thoughts and words, the objects along the road, the very motion

of her horse; she seemed to be actually living again those moments of the past. But more than this, she

seemed not only to live again the incidents of that evening, but in some strange way to possess the faculty of

Great changes had come to Sammy, too, since that night when her lover had said goodby. And now, in her

deeper life, the young woman felt a curious sense of shame, as she saw how trivial were the things that had

influenced her to become Ollie's promised wife. She blushed, as she recalled the motives that had sent her to

Coming out on top of the ridge, Brownie stopped of his own accord, and the girl saw again the figure of a

young giant, standing in the level rays of the setting sun, with his great arms outstretched, saying, "I reckon I

was built to live in these hills. I don't guess you'd better count on me ever bein' more'n I am." Sammy realized

suddenly that the question was no longer whether Ollie would be ashamed of her. It was quite a different

THE day that Ollie was expected at the cabin on Dewey Bald, Mr. Lane was busy in the field.

"I don't reckon you'll need me at th' house nohow," he said with a queer laugh, as he rose from the dinner

table; and Sammy, blushing, told him to go on to his work, or Young Matt would get his planting done first.

Jim went out to get his horse from the stable, but before he left, he returned once more to the house.

"What is it, Daddy? Forget something?" asked Sammy, as her father stood in the doorway.

"Not exactly," drawled Jim. "I ain't got a very good forgetter. Wish I had. It's somethin' I can't forget. Wish I

In a moment the girl's arms were about his neck, "You dear foolish old Daddy Jim. I have a bad forgetter, too.

You thought when I began studying with Dad Howitt that my books would make me forget you. Well, have

they?" A tightening of the long arm about her waist was the only answer. "And now you are making yourself

miserable trying to think that Ollie Stewart and his friends will make me forget you; just as if all the folks in

the world could ever be to me what you are; you, and Dad, and Uncle Matt, and Aunt Mollie, and Young

Matt. Daddy, I am ashamed of you. Honest, I am. Do you think a real genuine lady could ever forget the

father who had been so good to her? Daddy, I am insulted. You must apologize immediately."

She pretended to draw away, but the long arm held her fast, while the mountaineer said in a voice that had in

it pride and pain, with a world of love, "I know, I know, girl. But you'll be a livin' in the city, when you and

Ollie are married, and these old hills will be mighty lonesome with you gone. You see I couldn't never leave

the old place. 'Tain't much, I know, so far as money value goes. But there's some things worth a heap more

than their money value, I reckon. If you was only goin' t' live where I could ride over once or twice a week to

Something in her voice or manner caused Jim to hold his daughter at arm's length, and look full into the

Sammy laughed in an uneasy and embarrassed way. She was not sure that she knew herself all that lay

beneath the simple words. She tried to explain. "Why, I mean thatthat Ollie and I have both grown up

since we promised, and he has been living away out in the big world and going to school besides. He must

have seen many girls since he left me. He is sure to be changed greatly, andand, maybe he won't want a

The man growled something beneath his breath, and the girl placed a hand over his lips; "You mustn't say

swear words, Daddy Jim. Indeed, you must not. Not in the presence of ladies, anyway."

"Yes, I suppose I am; but my changes are mostly on the inside like; and perhaps he won't see them."

"That's just it, Daddy. How can I tell? We must both begin all over again, don't you see?" Then she sent him

Sammy had finished washing the dinner dishes, and was putting things in order about the house, when she

stopped suddenly before the little shelf that held her books. Then, with a smile, she carried them every one

into her own room, placing them carefully where they could not be seen from the open door. Going next to

the mirror, she deliberately took down her hair, and arranged it in the old careless way that Ollie had always

known. "You're just the same backwoods girl, Sammy Lane, so far as outside things go," she said to the face

in the glass; "but you are not quite the same all the way through. We'll see if he" She was interrupted by

the loud barking of the dog outside, and her heart beat more quickly as a voice cried, "Hello, hello, I say; call

Sammy hurried to the door. A strange gentleman stood at the gate. The strangest gentleman that Sammy had

ever seen. Surely this could not be Ollie Stewart; this slender, palefaced man, with faultless linen, well

But there was no hesitation on the part of the young man. Before she could recover from her astonishment, he

caught her in his arms and kissed her again and again, until she struggled from his embrace. "Youyou must

"Why not?" he demanded laughingly. "Has anyone a better right? I have waited a long while for this, and I

He took a step toward her again, but Sammy held him off at arm's length, as she repeated, "Nonoyou

must not; not now." Young Stewart was helpless. And the discovery that she was stronger than this man

"How strong you are," he said petulantly; ceasing his efforts. Then carefully surveying the splendidly

Under his look, Sammy's face flushed painfully, even to her neck and brow; and the man, seeing her

confusion, laughed again. Then, seating himself in the only rockingchair in the room, the young gentleman

leisurely removed his gloves, looking around the while with an amused expression on his face, while the girl

stood watching him. At last, he said impatiently, "Sit down, sit down, Sammy. You look at me as if I were a

Unconsciously, she slipped into the speech of the old days, "You sure don't look much like you used to. I

never see nobody wear such clothes as them. Not even Dad Howitt, when he first come. Do you wear 'em

Ollie frowned; "You're just like all the rest, Sammy. Why don't you talk as you write? You've improved a lot

in your letters. If you talk like that in the city; people will know in a minute that you are from the country."

At this, Sammy rallied her scattered wits, and the wide, questioning look was in her eyes, as she replied

quietly, "Thank you. I'll try to remember. But tell me, please, what harm could it do, if people did know I

It was Ollie's turn to be amazed. "Why you can talk!" he said. "Where did you learn?" And the girl answered

This little incident put Sammy more at ease, and she skilfully led her companion to speak of the city and his

life there. Of his studies the young fellow had little to say, and, to her secret delight, the girl found that she

had actually made greater progress with her books than had her lover with all his supposed advantages.

But of other things, of the gaiety and excitement of the great city, of his new home, the wealth of his uncle,

and his own bright prospects, Ollie spoke freely, never dreaming the girl had already seen the life he painted

in such glowing colors through the eyes of one who had been careful to point out the froth and foam of it all.

Neither did the young man discover in the quiet questions she asked that Sammy was seeking to know what

in all this new world he had found that he could make his own as the thing most worth while.

The backwoods girl had never seen that type of man to whom the life of the city, only, is life. Ollie was

peculiarly fitted by nature to absorb quickly those things of the world, into which he had gone, that were most

different from the world he had left; and there remained scarcely a trace of his earlier wilderness training.

But there is that in life that lies too deep for any mere change of environment to touch. Sammy remembered a

lesson the shepherd had given her: gentle spirit may express itself in the rude words of illiteracy; it is not

therefore rude. Ruffianism may speak the language of learning or religion; it is ruffianism still. Strength may

wear the garb of weakness, and still be strong; and a weakling may carry the weapons of strength, but fight

with a faint heart." So, beneath all the changes that had come to her backwoods lover, Sammy felt that Ollie

himself was unchanged. It was as though he had learned a new language, but still said the same things.

Sammy, too, had entered a new world. Step by step, as the young man had advanced in his schooling, and,

dropping the habits and customs of the backwoods, had conformed in his outward life to his new

environment, the girl had advanced in her education under the careful hand of the old shepherd. Ignorant still

of the false standards and the petty ambitions that are so large a part of the complex world, into which he had

gone, she had been introduced to a world where the life itself is the only thing worth while. She had seen

nothing of the glittering tinsel of that cheap culture that is death to all true refinement, But in the daily

companionship of her gentle teacher, she had lived in touch with true aristocracy, the aristocracy of heart and

Young Matt and Jim had thought that, in Sammy's education, the bond between the girl and her lover would

be strengthened. They had thought to see her growing farther and farther from the life of the hills; the life to

which they felt that they must always belong. But that was because Young Matt and Jim did not know the

So Ollie had come back to his old home to measure things by his new standard; and he had come back, too, to

be measured according to the old, old standard. If the man's eyes were dimmed by the flash and sparkle that

play upon the surface of life, the woman's vision was strong and clear to look into the still depths.

Later in the day, as they walked together up the Old Trail to Sammy's Lookout, the girl tried to show him

some of the things that had been revealed to her in the past months. But the young fellow could not follow

where she led, and answered her always with some flippant remark, or with the superficial philosophy of his

When he tried to turn the talk to their future, she skillfully defeated his purpose, or was silent; and when he

would claim a lover's privileges, she held him off. Upon his demanding a reason for her coldness, she

answered, "Don't you see that everything is different now? We must learn to know each other over again."

"I promised to be the wife of a backwoodsman," she answered. "I cannot keep that promise, for that man is

Young Stewart found himself not a little puzzled by the situation. He had come home expecting to meet a girl

beautiful in face and form, but with the mind of a child to wonder at the things he would tell her. He had

found, instead, a thoughtful young woman trained to look for and recognize truth and beauty. Sammy was

always his physical superior. She was now his intellectual superior as well. The change that had come to her

was not a change by environment of the things that lay upon the surface, but it was a change in the deeper

things of lifein the purpose and understanding of life itself. Like many of his kind, Ollie could not

MR. MATTHEWS and his son finished their planting early in the afternoon and the boy set out to find old

Kate and the mule colt. Those rovers had not appeared at the home place for nearly two weeks, and some one

"Don't mind if I ain't back for supper, Mother," said Young Matt. "I may eat at the ranch with Dad. I ain't

been down there for quite a spell now, an' I'd kind o' like to know if that panther we've been a hearin' is givin'

"Dad told me yesterday that he thought he heard old Kate's bell over on yon side of Cox's Bald," said Mr.

Matthews; "I believe if I was you I'd take across Cox's, along the far side of th' ridge, around Dewey an' down

into the Hollow that way. Joe Gardner was over north yesterday, an' he said he didn't see no signs on that

range. I reckon you'll find 'em on Dewey somewheres about Jim Lane's, maybe. You'd better saddle a horse."

"No, I'll take it a foot. I can ride old Kate in, if I find them," replied the big fellow; and, with his rifle in the

hollow of his arm, he struck out over the hills. All along the eastern slope of the ridge, that forms one side of

Mutton Hollow, he searched for the missing stock, but not a sound of the bell could he hear; not a trace of the

vagabonds could he find. And that was because old Kate and the little colt were standing quietly in the shade

The afternoon was well on when Young Matt gave up the search, and shaped his course for the sheep ranch.

He was on the farther side of Dewey, and the sun told him that there was just time enough to reach the cabin

Pushing straight up the side of the mountain, he found the narrow bench, that runs like a great cornice

twothirds of the way around the Bald Knob. The mountaineer knew that at that level, on the side opposite

from where he stood, was Sammy's Lookout, and from there it was an easy road down to the sheep ranch in

the valley. Also, he knew that from that rocky shelf, all along the southern side of the mountain, he would

look down upon Sammy's home; and, who could tell, he might even catch a glimpse of Sammy herself. Very

soon he rounded the turn of the hill, and saw far below the Lane homestead; the cabin and the barn in the

Young Matt walked slowly now. The supper was forgotten. Coming to the clump of cedars just above the Old

Trail where it turns the shoulder of the hill from the west, he stopped for a last look. Beyond this point, he

The young man could not remember when he had not loved Sammy Lane. She seemed to have been always a

part of his life. It was the season of the year when all the wild things of the forest choose their mates, and as

the big fellow stood there looking down upon the home of the girl he loved, all the splendid passion of his

manhood called for her. It seemed to him that the whole world was slipping away to leave him alone in a

measureless universe. He almost cried aloud. It is the same instinct that prompts the panther to send his

mating call ringing over the hills and through the forest, and leads the moose to issue his loud challenge.

At last Young Matt turned to go, when he heard the sound of voices. Someone was coming along the Old

Trail that lay in full view on the mountain side not two hundred yards away. Instinctively the woodsman

The voices grew louder. A moment more and Sammy with Ollie Stewart appeared from around the turn of the

hill. They were walking side by side and talking earnestly. The young woman had just denied the claims of

her former lover, and was explaining the change in her attitude toward him; but the big fellow on the ledge

above could not know that. He could not hear what they were saying. He only saw his mate, and the man who

Half crouching on the rocky shelf in the dark shadow of the cedar, the giant seemed a wild thing ready for his

spring; ready and eager, yet held in check by something more powerful still than his passion. Slowly the two,

following the Old Trail, passed from sight, and Young Matt stood erect. He was trembling like a frightened

child. A moment longer he waited, then turned and fairly ran from the place. Leaving the ledge at the

Lookout, he rushed down the mountain and through the woods as if mad, to burst in upon the shepherd, with

words that were half a cry, half a groan. "He's come, Dad; he's come. I've just seen him with her."

Mr. Howitt sprang up with a startled exclamation. His face went white. He grasped the table for support. He

tried to speak, but words would not come. He could only stare with frightened eyes, as though Young Matt

The big fellow threw himself into a chair, and presently the shepherd managed to say in a hoarse whisper,

"I seen them up on Dewey just now, goin' down the Old Trail from Sammy's Lookout to her home. I was

The old scholar leaned toward his friend, as he almost shouted, "Saw them going to Sammy's home! Saw

"WhywhySammy Lane and thatthat Ollie Stewart, of course. I tell you he's come back. Come to take

The reaction was almost as bad as the shock. Mr. Howitt gasped as he dropped back into his seat. He felt a

hysterical impulse to laugh, to cry out. Young Matt continued; "He's come home, Dad, with all his fine

clothes and city airs, and now she'll go away with him, and we won't never see her again."

As he began to put his thoughts into words, the giant got upon his feet, and walked the floor like one insane.

"He shan't have her," he cried, clenching his great fists; "he shan't have her. If he was a man I could stand it,

Dad. But look at him! Look at him, will you? The little whitefaced, washed out runt, what is he? He ain't no

man, Dad. He ain't even as much of a man as he was. And Sammy isGod! What a woman she is! You've

been a tellin' me that I could be a gentleman, even if I always lived in the backwoods. But you're wrong, Dad,

plumb wrong. I ain't no gentleman. I can't never be one. I'm just a man. I'm aa savage, a damned beast, and

I'm glad of it." He threw back his shaggy head, and his white teeth gleamed through his parted lips, as he

"Dad, you say there's some things bigger'n learnin', and such, and I reckon this here's one of them. I don't care

if that little whelp goes to all the schools there is, and gets to be a president or a king; I don't care if he's got

all the money there is between here and hell; put him out here in the woods, face to face with life where them

things don't count, and what is he? What is he, Dad? He's nothin'! plumb nothin'!"

The old shepherd waited quietly for the storm to pass. The big fellow would come to himself after a time;

until then, words were useless. At last Young Matt spoke in calmer tones; "I run away, Dad. I had to. I was

afraid I'd hurt him. Something inside o' me just fought to get at him, and I couldn't a held out much longer. I

don't want to hurt nobody, Dad. I reckon it was a seein' 'em together that did it. It's a God's blessin' I come

Then the teacher spoke, "It is always a God's blessing, lad, when a man masters the worst of himself. You are

a strong man, my boy. You hardly know your strength. But you need always to remember that the stronger

the man, the easier it is for him to become a beast. Your manhood depends upon this, and upon nothing else,

that you conquer and control the animal side of yourself. It will be a sad moment for you, and for all of us

who love you, if you ever forget. Don't you see, lad, it is this victory only that gives you the right to think of

yourself as a man. Mind, I say to think of yourself, as a man. It doesn't much matter what others think of you.

So they spent the evening together, and the big mountaineer learned to see still more deeply into the things

When at last Young Matt arose to say goodnight, the shepherd tried to persuade him to sleep at the ranch.

But he said, no, the folks at home would be looking for him, and he must go. "I'm mighty glad I come, Dad,"

he added; "I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for you; go plumb hog wild, and make a fool of myself, I

reckon. I don't know what a lot of us would do, either. Seems like you're a sort of shepherd to the whole

neighborhood. I reckon, though, I'm 'bout the worst in the flock," he finished with a grim smile.

Mr. Howitt took his hat from the nail. "If you must go, I will walk a little way with you. I love to be out such

"He's out somewhere tonight, sure," replied the other, as they started. "We heard him a singin' last night."

Then he stopped and asked, "Where's your gun, Dad? There's a panther somewhere on this range."

"I know," returned the shepherd; "I heard it scream last night; and I meant to go up to the house today for a

"That's bad," said Young Matt. "But come on, I'll leave mine with you until tomorrow. That fellow would

sure make things lively, if he should come to see you, and catch you without a shootin' iron."

Together the two walked through the timber, until they came to where the trail that leads to the Matthews

place begins to climb the low spur of the hill back of the house. Here Mr. Howitt stopped to say goodnight,

adding, as the young man gave him the rifle, "I don't like to take this, Grant. What if you should meet that

"Shucks!" returned the other; "you're the one that'll need it. You've got to take care of them sheep. I'll get

AFTER parting with his friend, Young Matt continued on his way until he reached the open ground below

the point where the path from the ranch joins the Old Trail. Then he stopped and looked around.

Before him was the belt of timber, and beyond, the dark mass of the mountain ridge with the low gap where

his home nestled among the trees. He could see the light from the cabin window shining like a star. Behind

him lay the darker forest of the Hollow, and beyond, like a great sentinel, was the round, treeless form of

Dewey Bald. From where he stood, he could even see clearly against the sky the profile of the mountain's

shoulder, and the ledge at Sammy's Lookout. Another moment, and the young man had left the path that led

to his home, and was making straight for the distant hill. He would climb to that spot where he had stood in

the afternoon, and would look down once more upon the little cabin on the mountain side. Then he would go

Three quarters of an hour later, he pushed up out of a ravine that he followed to its head below the Old Trail,

near the place where, with Pete and the shepherd, he had watched Sammy reading her letter. He was climbing

to the Lookout, for it was the easiest way to the ledge, and, as his eye came on a level with the bench along

which the path runs, he saw clearly on the big rock above the figure of a man. Instantly Young Matt stopped.

The moon shone full upon the spot, and he easily recognized the figure. It was Ollie Stewart.

Young Stewart had been greatly puzzled by Sammy's attitude. It was so unexpected, and, to his mind, so

unreasonable. He loved the girl as much as it was possible for one of his weak nature to love; and he had felt

sure of his place in her affections. But the door that had once yielded so readily to his touch he had found fast

shut. He was on the outside, and he seemed somehow to have lost the key. In this mood on his way home, he

had reached the spot that was so closely associated with the girl, and, pausing to rest after the sharp climb,

had fallen to brooding over his disappointment. So intent was he upon his gloomy thoughts that he had not

heard Young Matt approaching, and was wholly unconscious of that big fellow's presence in the vicinity.

For a time the face at the edge of the path regarded the figure on the rock intently; then it dropped from sight.

Young Matt slipped quietly down into the ravine, and a few moments later climbed again to the Old Trail at a

point hidden from the Lookout. Here he stepped quickly across the narrow open space and into the bushes on

the slope of the mountain above. Then with the skill of one born and reared in the woods, the mountaineer

What purpose lay under his strange movement Young Matt did not know. But certainly it was not in his mind

to harm Ollie. He was acting upon the impulse of the moment; an impulse to get nearer and to study

unobserved the person of his rival. So he stalked him with all the instinct of a creature of the woods. Not a

twig snapped, not a leaf rustled, as from bush to fallen log, from tree trunk to rock, he crept, always in the

But there were still other eyes on Old Dewey that night, and sharp ears heard the big woodsman climbing out

of the ravine, if Ollie did not. When the young man in the clear light of the moon crossed the Old Trail, a

figure near the clump of trees, where he had sat with his two friends that day, dropped quietly behind a big

rock, half hidden in the bushes. As the giant crept toward the Lookout, this figure followed, showing but little

less skill than the mountaineer himself. Once a loose stone rattled slightly, and the big fellow turned his head;

but the figure was lying behind a log that the other had just left. When Young Matt finally reached the

position as close to Ollie as he could go without certain discovery, the figure also came to a rest, not far

The moments passed very slowly now to the man crouching in the shadows. Ollie looked at his watch. It was

early yet to one accustomed to late hours in the city. Young Matt heard distinctly the snap of the case as the

watch was closed and returned to its owner's pocket. Then Stewart lighted a cigar, and flipped the burned out

It seemed to Young Matt that he had been there for hours. Years ago he left his home yonder on the ridge, to

look for stray stock. They must have forgotten him long before this. The quiet cabin in the Hollow, and his

friend, the shepherd, too, were far away. In all that lonely mountain there was no oneno one but that man

Suddenly another form appeared upon the scene. It came creeping around the hill from beyond the Lookout.

It was a long, low, lithebodied, form that moved with the easy, gliding movements of a big cat. Noiselessly

the soft padded feet fell upon the hard rock and loose gravel of the old pathway; the pathway along which so

Young Matt saw it the moment it appeared. He started in his place. He recognized it instantly as the most

feared of all the wild things in the mountain wildernessa panther. He saw it sniff the footprints on the

trailOllie's footprints. He saw it pause and crouch as it caught sight of the man on the rock.

Instantly wild and unwelcome thoughts burned within the strong man's brain. The woodsman knew why that

thing had come. Against such a foe the unconscious weakling on the rock there, calmly puffing his cigar,

would have no chance whatever. He would not even know of its presence, until it had made its spring, and its

fangs were in his neck. The man of the wilderness knew just how it would be done. It would be over in a

The giant clenched his teeth. Why had he not gone on to his home after leaving the shepherd? Why had he

followed that impulse to stand again where he had stood that afternoon? Above all, what had possessed

himwhat had led him to creep to his present position? He shot a quick glance around. How brighthow

The panther turned aside from the trail and with silent grace leaped to the ledge, gaining a position on a level

with Olliestill unconscious of its presence. A cold sweat broke out on the big man's forehead. The great

hands worked. His breath came in quick gasps. It could not be laid to his door. He had only to withdraw, to

stop his ears and run, as he had fled that afternoon. God! How slowly that thing crept forward, crouching low

upon its belly, its tail twitching from side to side, nearer, nearer. Young Matt felt smothered. He loosened the

collar of his shirt. The moonthe moon was so bright! He could even see the muscles in the beast's heavy

Suddenly the words of the shepherd came to him, as though shouted in his ears, "Remember the other beast,

lad. Don't you see it is this victory only that gives you the right to think of yourself as a man?"

Ollie was almost brushed from his place as the big mountaineer sprang from the shadow, while the panther,

startled by the appearance of another man upon the rock, paused. An exclamation of fright burst from young

Stewart, as he took in the situation. And the giant by his side reached forth a hand to push him back, as he

At the movement the wild beast seemed to understand that the newcomer was there to rob him of his prey.

With a snarl, it crouched low again, gathering its muscles for the spring. The giant waited. Suddenly the sharp

crack of a rifle rang out on the still night, echoing and echoing along the mountain.

The panther leaped, but fell short. The startled men on the rock saw it threshing the ground in its death

"Lucky for me," repeated Young Matt slowly, eyeing his well dressed companion; "Well, yes, I reckon it

"With me? Huntin'? Not tonight;" muttered the other still searching the hill side.

"Well, I'd like to know what you were doing here alone, then;" said Ollie suspiciously.

At his tone, Young Matt turned upon him savagely, " 'Tain't none of your business, what I was a doin' here,

that I can see. I reckon these hills are free yet. But it's mighty lucky for us both that someone was 'round,

whoever he is. Maybe you ain't thankful that that critter ain't fastened on your neck. But I am. An' I'm goin' to

He started forward, but Ollie called imperiously, "Hold on there a minute, I want to say something to you

first." The other paused, and young Stewart continued; "I don't know what you mean by prowling around this

time of night. But it looks as though you were watching me. I warn you fairly, don't try it again. I know how

you feel toward Miss Lane, and I know how you have been with her while I was away. I tell you it's got to

He got no further. The big man sprang forward to face him with a look that made the dandy shrink with fear.

"Protect Sammy Lane from me! Protect her, you! You know what I feel toward her? You!" He fairly choked

The frightened Ollie drew a weapon from his pocket, but, with a snarling laugh, the big fellow reached out

his great hand and the shining toy went whirling through the air. "Go home," said the giant. "Damn you, go

AS "Preachin' Bill" used to say, "Every hound has hits strong pints, but some has more of 'em."

Young Stewart was not without graces pleasing to the girl whom he hoped to make his wife. He seemed to

know instinctively all those little attentions in which women so delight, and he could talk, too, very

entertainingly of the things he had seen. To the simple girl of the backwoods, he succeeded in making the life

in the city appear very wonderful, indeed. Neither was Sammy insensible to the influence of his position, and

his prospective wealth, with the advantages that these things offered. Then, with all this, he loved her dearly;

and when, if you please, was ever a woman wholly unmoved by the knowledge that she held first place in a

For two weeks they were together nearly every day, sometimes spending the afternoon at the girl's home on

the side of Dewey, or roving over the nearby hills; sometimes going for long rides through the great woods to

pass the day with friends, returning in the evening to find Jim smoking in the doorway of the darkened cabin.

When Mr. Lane, at the end of the first week, asked his daughter, in his point blank fashion, what she was

going to do with young Stewart, the girl answered, "He must have his chance, Daddy. He mast have a good

fair chance. II don't know what it is, but there isII don't know, Daddy. I am sure I loved him when he

want away, that is, I think I am sure." And Jim, looking into her eyes, agreed heartily; then he took down his

Ollie did not see Young Matt after their meeting on the Lookout. The big fellow, too, avoided the couple, and

Sammy, for some reason, carefully planned their rides so that they would not be likely to meet their neighbor

an the ridge. Once, indeed, they called at the Matthews place, walking over in the evening, but that was when

Day after day as they talked together, the girl tried honestly to enter into the life of the man she had promised

to marry. But always there was that feeling of something lacking. Just what that something was, or why she

could not feel completely satisfied, Sammy did not understand. But the day was soon to come when she

Since that first afternoon, Ollie had not tried to force his suit. While, in a hundred little ways, he had not

failed to make her feel his love, he had never openly attempted the role of lover. He was conscious that to put

the girl constantly upon the defensive would be disastrous to his hopes; and in this, he was wise. But the time

had come when he must speak, for it was the last day of his visit. He felt that he could not go back to the city

Sammy, too, realized this, but still she was not ready to give an answer to the question he would ask. They

had been to the Forks, and were on their way home. As they rode slowly under the trees, the man pleaded his

cause, but the woman could only shake her head and answer quite truthfully, "Ollie, I don't know."

"You think not! Don't you know?" The young man reined his horse closer to the brown pony. "Let me help

you decide, dear. You are troubled because of the change you see in me, and because the life that I have tried

to tell you about is so strange, so different from this. You need not fear. With me, you will very soon be at

home there; as much at home as you are here. Come, dear, let me answer for you."

The girl lifted her face to his; "Oh, if you only could!" But, even as she spoke, there came to her the memory

of that ride home from the party at Ford's, when her pony had crowded close to the big white faced sorrel. It

was Brownie this time who was pulled sharply aside. The almost involuntary act brought a quick flush to the

young man's cheek, and he promptly reined his own horse to the right, thus placing the full width of the road

between them. So they went down the hill into the valley, where Fall Creek tumbled and laughed on its rocky

A thread of blue smoke, curling lazily up from the old stack, and the sound of a hammer, told them that some

one was at the mill. Sammy was caught by a sudden impulse. "Why, that must be Young Matt!" she

exclaimed. "Let us stop. I do believe you haven't seen him since you came home."

"I don't want to see him, nor any one else, now," returned Ollie. "This is our last evening together, Sammy,

and I want you all to myself. Let us go up the old Roark trail, around Cox's Bald, and home through the big,

low gap." He checked his horse as he spoke, for they had already passed the point where the Roark trail

But the girl was determined to follow her impulse. "You can stop just a minute," she urged. "You really ought

But the man held his place, and replied shortly, "I tell you I don't want to see anybody, and I am very sure

Sammy flushed at this, and answered with some warmth, "There is no reason in the world why you should

refuse to meet an old friend; but you may do as you please, of course. Only I am going to the mill." So

saying, she started down the valley, and as there was really nothing else for him to do, the man followed.

As they approached the mill, Sammy called for Young Matt, who immediately left his work, and came to

them. The big fellow wore no coat, and his great arms were bare, while his old shirt, patched and faded and

patched again, was soiled by engine grease and perspiration. His trousers, too, held in place by suspenders

repaired with belt lacing and fastened with a nail, were covered with sawdust and dirt. His hands and arms

and even his face were treated liberally with the same mixture that stained his clothing; and the shaggy red

brown hair, uncovered, was sadly tumbled. In his hand he held a wrench. The morrow was grinding day, and

Altogether, as the backwoodsman came forward, he presented a marked contrast to the freshly clad, well

groomed gentleman from the city. And to the woman, the contrast was not without advantages to the man in

the good clothes. The thought flashed through her mind that the men who would work for Ollie in the shops

would look like this. It was the same old advantage; the advantage that the captain has over the private; the

Sammy greeted Young Matt warmly. "I just told Ollie that it was too bad he had not seen you. You were

away the night we called at your house, you know; and he is going home tomorrow."

The giant looked from one to the other. Evidently Sammy had not heard of that meeting at the Lookout, and

Stewart's face grew red as he saw what was in the big fellow's mind. "I'm mighty glad to see you again," he

"Oh, no, I haven't," replied the girl. "You said that you saw him in the field as you passed the first day you

At this Ollie forced a loud laugh, and remarked that he was in something of a hurry that day. He hoped that in

But the mountaineer was not to be sidetracked so easily. Ollie's poor attempt only showed more clearly that

he had purposely refrained from telling Sammy of the might when Young Matt had interfered to save his life.

To the simple straightforward lad of the woods, such a course revealed a spirit most contemptible. Raising

his soiled hands and looking straight at Ollie, he said, deliberately, "I'm sorry, seein' as this is the first time

Sammy was puzzled. Ollie's objection to their calling at the mill, his evident embarrassment at the meeting,

and something in Young Matt's voice that hinted at a double meaning in his simple words, all told her that

After his one remark to her escort, the woodsman turned to the girl, and, in spite of Sammy's persistent

attempts to bring the now sullen Ollie into the conversation, ignored the man completely. When they had

talked for a few moments, Young Matt said, "I reckon you'll have to excuse me a minute, Sammy; I left the

engine in such a hurry when you called that I'll have to look at it again. It won't take more'n a minute."

As he disappeared in the mill shed, the young lady turned to her companion, "What's the matter with you

Fate was being very unkind to Ollie. He replied gruffly, "You'll have to ask your friend. I told you how it

would be. The greasy hobo doesn't like to see me with you, and hasn't manners enough even to hide his

A look that was really worth seeing came into the girl's fine eyes, but she only said calmly; "Matt will be

"All the more reason why we should go. I should think you have had enough. I am sure I have."

The young woman was determined now to know what lay at the bottom of all this. She said quietly, but with

a great deal of decision, "You may go on home if you wish; I am going to wait here until Young Matt comes

Ollie was angry now in good earnest. He had not told Sammy of the incident at the Lookout because he felt

that the story would bring the backwoodsman into a light altogether too favorable. He thought to have the girl

safely won before he left the hills; then it would not matter. That Young Matt would have really saved Ollie's

life at the risk of his own there was no doubt. And Stewart realized that his silence under such circumstances

would look decidedly small and ungrateful to the girl. To have the story told at this critical moment was

altogether worse than if he had generously told of the incident at once. He saw, too, that Sammy guessed at

some thing beneath the surface, and he felt uneasy in remaining until Young Matt came back to renew the

conversation. And yet he feared to leave. At this stage of his dilemma, he was relieved from his plight in a

A BIG wagon, with two men on the seat, appeared coming up the valley road. It was Wash Gibbs and a crony

from the river. They had stopped at the distillery on their way, and were just enough under the influence of

When they caught sight of Ollie Stewart and Miss Lane, Wash said something to his companion, at which

both laughed uproariously. Upon reaching the couple, the wagon came to a stop, and after looking at Ollie for

some moments, with the silent gravity of an owl, Gibbs turned to the young lady, "Howdy, honey. Where did

Glancing at her frightened escort, the girl replied, "You drive on, Wash Gibbs. You're in no condition to talk

An ugly leer came over the brutal face of the giant; "Oh, I ain't, ain't I? You think I'm drunk. But I ain't, not

so mighty much. Jest enough t' perten me up a pepper grain." Then, turning to his companion, who was

grinning in appreciation of the scene, he continued, "Here, Bill; you hold th' ribbens, an' watch me tend t' that

little job I told you I laid out t' do first chance I got." At this, Ollie grew as pale as death. Once he started as if

As Wash was climbing down from the wagon, he caught sight of Young Matt standing in the door of the mill

shed. "Hello, Matt," he called cheerfully; "I ain't a lookin' fer you t' day; 'tend t' you some other time. Got

Young Matt made no reply, nor did he move to interfere. In the backwoods every man must fight his own

battles, so long as he fights with men. When Stewart was in danger from the panther, it was different. This

was man to man. Sammy, too, reared in the mountains, and knowing the code, waited quietly to see what her

Coming to Ollie's side, Gibbs said, "Git down, young feller, an' look at yer saddle."

"You go on, and let me alone, Wash Gibbs. I've never hurt you." Ollie's naturally high pitched voice was

Wash paused, looked back at his companion in the wagon; then to Young Matt, and then to the girl on the

horse. "That's right," he said, shaking his head with ponderous gravity. "You all hear him. He ain't never

hurted me, nary a bit. Nary a bit, ladies an' gentlemen. But, good Lord! look at him! Hain't hit awful!"

Suddenly he reached out one great arm, and jerked the young man from his horse, catching him with the other

Ollie was like a child in the grasp of his huge tormentor, and, in spite of her indignation, a look of admiration

flashed over Sammy's face at the exhibition of the bully's wonderful physical strength; an admiration, that

Gibbs addressed his victim, "Now, dolly, you an' me's goin' t' play a little. Come on, let's see you dance." The

other struggled feebly a moment and attempted to draw a pistol, whereupon Wash promptly captured the

weapon, remarking in a sad tone as he did so, "You hadn't ought t' tote such a gun as that, sonny; hit might go

off. Hit's a right pretty little thing, ain't hit?" he continued, holding his victim with one hand, and examining

the pearl handled, nickel plated weapon with great interest. "Hit sure is. But say, dolly, if you was ever t'

shoot me with that there, an' I found hit out, I'd sure be powerful mad. You hear me, now, an' don't you pack

The fellow in the wagon roared with delight at these witticisms, and looked from Young Matt to Sammy to

"Got any more pretties!" asked Gibbs of his victim. "No? Let's see." Catching the young man by the waist, he

lifted him bodily, and, holding him head downward, shook him roughly. Again Sammy felt her blood tingle

Next holding Ollie with one huge hand at the back of his neck, Wash said, "See that feller in th' wagon there?

He's a mighty fine gentleman; friend o' mine. Make a bow t' him." As he finished, with his free hand he

struck the young man a sharp blow in the stomach, with the result that Stewart did make a bow, very low, but

The fellow in the wagon jumped up and bowed again and again; "Howdy, Mr. City Man; howdy. Mighty

The giant whirled his captive toward the mill. "See that feller yonder? I'm goin' t' lick him some day. Make a

face at him." Catching Ollie by the nose and chin, he tried to force his bidding, while the man in the wagon

made the valley ring with his laughter. Then Wash suddenly faced the helpless young man toward Sammy.

"Now ladies and gentlemen," he said in the tones of a showman addressing an audience, "this here pretty little

The bully's friend applauded loudly, roaring at the top of his voice, "Marry 'em, Wash. Marry 'em. You can

do hit as good as a parson! You'd make a good parson. Let's see how'd you go at hit."

The notion tickled the fancy of the giant, for it offered a way to make Sammy share the humiliation more

fully. "Git down an' come here t' yer honey," he said to the girl. "Git down, I say," he repeated, when the

Her tone and manner angered Gibbs, and dropping Ollie he started toward the girl to take her from the horse

by force. As he reached the pony's side, Sammy raised her whip and with all her strength struck him full

across the face. The big ruffian drew back with a bellow of pain and anger. Then he started toward her again.

But before Gibbs could touch the girl, a powerful hand caught him by the shoulder. "I reckon you've had fun

enough, Wash Gibbs," remarked Young Matt in his slow way. "I ain't interfering between man and man, but

The young woman's heart leaped at the sound of that deep calm voice that carried such a suggestion of power.

And she saw that the blue eyes under the tumbled red brown locks were shining now like points of polished

The big bully drew back a step, and glared at the man who had come between him and his victim; the man

whom, for every reason, he hated. Lifting his huge paws, he said in a voice hoarse with deadly menace,

"Dirty, be they? By hell, I'll wash 'em. An' hit won't be water that'll clean 'em, neither. Don't you know that

The other returned easily, "Oh, shucks! Get into your wagon and drive on. You ain't on Roark now. You're on

While Young Matt was speaking, Gibbs backed slowly away, and, as the young man finished, suddenly drew

the pistol he had taken from Ollie. With a quickness and lightness astonishing in one of his bulk and usually

slow movements, the mountaineer leaped upon his big enemy. There was a short, sharp struggle, and Wash

staggered backward, leaving the shining weapon in Young Matt's hand. "It might go off, you know," said the

With a mad roar, Gibbs recovered himself and rushed at his antagonist. It was a terrific struggle; not the

skillful sparring of trained fighters, but the rough and tumble battling of primitive giants. It was the climax of

long months of hatred; the meeting of two who were by every instinct mortal enemies. Ollie shrank back in

terror, but Sammy leaned forward in the saddle, her beautiful figure tense, her lips parted, and her face

It was soon evident that the big champion of the hills had at last met his match. As he realized this, a look of

devilish cunning crept into the animal face of Gibbs, and he maneuvered carefully to bring his enemy's back

Catching a look from his friend, over Young Matt's shoulder, the man in the wagon slipped quickly to the

ground, and Sammy saw with horror a naked knife in his hand. She glanced toward Ollie appealingly, but that

gentleman was helpless. The man with the knife began creeping cautiously toward the fighting men, keeping

always behind Young Matt. The young woman felt as though an iron band held her fast. She could not move.

She could not speak. Then Gibbs went down, and the girl's scream rang out, "Behind you, Matt! Look quick!"

As he recovered his balance from the effort that had thrown Wash, Young Matt heard her cry, saw the girl's

look of horror, and her outstretched hand pointing. Like a flash he whirled just as the knife was lifted high for

the murderous blow. It was over in an instant. Sammy saw him catch the wrist of the uplifted arm, heard a

dull snap and a groan, saw the knife fall from the helpless hand, and then saw the man lifted bodily and

thrown clear over the wagon, to fall helpless on the rocky ground. The woman gave a low cry, "Oh, what a

Wash Gibbs, too, opened his eyes, just in time to witness the unheardof feat, and to see the barearmed

young giant who performed it turn again, breathing heavily with his great exertion, but still ready to meet his

The defeated bully rose from the ground. The other stepped forward to meet him. But without a word, Gibbs

climbed into the wagon and took up the reins. Before they could move, Young Matt had the mules by their

heads. "You have forgotten something," he said quietly, pointing to the man on the ground, who was still

unconscious from his terrible fall. "That there's your property. Take it along. We ain't got no use for such as

Sullenly Wash climbed down and lifted his companion into the wagon. As Young Matt stood aside to let him

The strong man only answered, "I reckon you'd better stay on Roark, Wash Gibbs. You got more room

NO word was spoken by either Sammy or her lover, while their horses were climbing the mill road, and both

were glad when they reached the top of the ridge, and turned into the narrow path where they would need to

ride one before the other. It was not easy to ride side by side, when each was busy with thoughts not to be

At the gate, Ollie dismounted to help the girl from her horse. But before he could reach the pony's side,

Sammy sprang lightly to the ground, unassisted. Opening the big gate, she turned Brownie loose in the yard,

while the man stood watching her, a baffled look upon his face. He had always done these little things for her.

To be refused at this time was not pleasant. The feeling that he was on the outside grew stronger.

Turning to his own horse, Ollie placed his foot in the stirrup to mount, when Sammy spoke,perhaps she

felt that she had been a little unkind"You were going to stay to supper," she said.

"Not tonight," he answered, gaining his seat in the saddle, and picking up the reins.

"But you are going to leave in the morning, are you not? Youyou must not go like this."

He dropped the reins to the horse's neck again, "Look here, Sammy, do you blame me because I did not fight

"What could I do? You know there is not another man in the mountains beside Young Matt who could have

The young woman moved uneasily, "No, certainly not. I do not blame you in the least. Ibut it was very

fortunate that Young Matt was there, wasn't it?" The last sentence slipped out before she knew.

Ollie retorted angrily, "It seems to be very fortunate for him. He will be a greater hero than ever, now, I

suppose. If he is wise, he will stay in the backwoods to be worshipped for he'll find that his size won't count

for much in the world. He's a great man here, where he can fight like a beast, but his style wouldn't go far

where brains are of value. It would be interesting to see him in town; a man who never saw a railroad."

Sammy lifted her head quickly at this, and fixed her eyes on the man's face with that wide, questioning gaze

that reminded one so of her father, "I never saw a railroad, either; not that I can remember; though, I suppose

we must have crossed one or two on our way to Texas when I was a baby. Is it the railroads then that makes

Ollie lifted the reins again from his horse's neck, and angered them nervously. "I'd better go now; there's no

use talking about this tonight. I won't leave in the morning, as I had planned. II can't go like this." There

"And Sammy, won't you try to think that I am not altogether worthless, even if I am not big enough to fight

Wash Gibbs? You are sure that you do not blame me for what happened at the mill?"

"No," she said; "of course not. You could not help it. Why should I blame anyone for that which he cannot

Then Ollie rode away, and Sammy, going to her pony, stood petting the little horse, while she watched her

lover up the Old Trail, and still there was that wide, questioning look in her eyes. As Ollie passed from sight

around the hill above, the girl slipped out of the gate, and a few minutes later stood at the Lookout, where she

could watch her lover riding along the ridge. She saw him pass from the open into the fringe of timber near

the big gap; and, a few minutes later, saw him reappear beyond the deer lick. Still she watched as he moved

along the rim of the Hollow, looking in the distance like a toy man on a toy horse; watched until he passed

from sight into the timber again, and was gone. And all the time that questioning look was in her eyes.

Did she blame Ollie that he had played so poorly his part in the scene at the mill. No, she told herself over

and over again, as though repeating a lesson; no, Ollie was not to blame, and yet

She knew that he had spoken truly when he said that there were things that counted for more than brute

strength. But was there not something more than brute strength in the incident? Was there not that which lay

deeper? something of which the brute strength, after all, was only an expression? The girl stamped her foot

impatiently, as she exclaimed aloud, "Oh, why did he not try to do something? He should have forced Wash

Gibbs to beat him into insensibility rather than to have submitted so tamely to being played with."

In the distance she saw the shepherd following his flock down the mountain, and the old scholar, who always

watched the Lookout, when in the vicinity, for a glimpse of his pupil, waved his hand in greeting as he

moved slowly on after his charges. It was growing late. Her father, too, would be coming home for his

supper. But as she rose to go, a step on the mountain side above caught her attention, and, looking up, she

saw Pete coming toward the big rock. Sammy greeted the youth kindly, "I haven't seen Pete for days and

"Pete's been everywhere; an' course I've been with him," replied the lad with his wide, sweeping gesture.

Then throwing himself at full length at the girl's feet, he said, abruptly, "Pete was here that night, and God, he

was here, too. Couldn't nobody else but God o' done it. The gun went bang, and a lot more guns went bang,

bang, all along the mountains. And the moonlight things that was a dancin' quit 'cause they was scared; and

that panther it just doubled up and died. Matt and Ollie wasn't hurted nary a bit. Pete says it was God done

The troubled look shadowed the delicate face, as the lad shook his head; "Don't mean nothin', Sammy, not

"Oh, yes, course Pete knows everything. Don't Sammy know 'bout that night when God was in the hills?" He

The strange youth seated himself on the rock, facing the valley below, saying in a low tone, "Ollie was a

settin' like this, all still; just a smokin' and a watchin' the moonlight things that was dancin' over the tops of

the trees down there." Then leaping to his feet the boy ran a short way along the ledge, to come stealing back,

crouching low, as he whispered, "It come a creepin' and a creepin' towards Ollie, and he never knowed

nothin' about it. But Matt he knowed, and God he knowed too." Wonderingly, the girl watched his

movement. Suddenly he sprang to the rock again, and facing the imaginary beast, cried in childish imitation

of a man's deep voice, "Get out of the way. This here's my fight." Then in his own tones, "It was sure scared

when Young Matt jumped on the rock. Everything's scared of Matt when he talks like that. It was mad, too,

'cause Matt he wouldn't let it get Ollie. And it got ready to jump at Matt, and Matt he got ready for a tussle,

and Ollie he got out of the way. And all the moonlight things stopped dancin', and the shadow things come

out to see the fight." He had lowered his voice again almost to a whisper. Sammy was breathless. "Bang!"

cried the lad, clapping his hands and shouting the words; "Bang! Bang! God, he fired and all the guns in the

hills went off, and that panther it just doubled up and died. It would sure got Ollie, though, if Matt hadn't a

jumped on the rock when he did. But do you reckon it could o' got Matt, if God hadn't been here that night?"

It was all too clearly portrayed to be mistaken. "Sammy needn't be afeared," continued Pete, seeing the look

on the girl's face. "It can't come back no more. It just naturally can't, you know, Sammy; 'cause God he killed

it plumb dead. And Pete dragged it way over on yon side of the ridge and the buzzards got it."

SAMMY went home to find her father getting supper. Rushing into the cabin, the girl gave him a hug that

caused Jim to nearly drop the coffee pot. "You poor abused Daddy, to come home from work, all tired and

find no supper, no girl, no nothing. Sit right down there, now, and rest, while I finish things."

Jim obeyed with a grin of appreciation. "I didn't fix no taters; thought you wasn't comin'."

"Going to starve yourself, were you? just because I was gone," replied the girl with a pan of potatoes in her

hand. "I see right now that I will have to take care of you alwaysalways, Daddy Jim."

The smile suddenly left the man's face. "Where's Ollie Stewart? Didn't he come home with you?"

"No, not tomorrow; the next day. He's coming over here tomorrow afternoon. Then he's going away."

Then, before Jim could ask another question, she held up the half of a ham; "Daddy, Daddy! How many times

have I told you that you must notyou must not slice the ham with your pocket knife? Just look there! What

All during the evening meal, the girl kept up a ceaseless merry chatter, changing the subject abruptly every

time it approached the question that her father was most anxious to ask. And the man delighted with her gay

mood responded to it, as he answered to all her moods, until they were like two school children in their fun.

But, when supper was over and the work done, and Jim, taking down his violin, would have made music,

Sammy promptly relieved him of his instrument, and seated herself on his knee. "Not tonight, Daddy. I want

She told him then of the encounter with Wash Gibbs and his friend at the mill, together with the story that

Pete had illustrated so vividly at the Lookout. "And so, Daddy," she finished; "I know now what I shall do.

He will come tomorrow afternoon to say goodby, and then he will go away again back to the city and his

fine friends for good. And I'll stay and take care of my Daddy Jim. It isn't that he is a bad man like Wash

Gibbs. He couldn't be a bad man like that; he isn't big enough. And that's just it. He is too littlebody, soul

and spirithe is too little. He will do well in the world; perhaps he will even do big things. But I heard dear

old Preachin' Bill say once, that 'some fellers can do mighty big things in a durned little way.' So he is going

Jim took no pains to hide his delight. "I knowed it, girl. I knowed it. Bank on the old blood every time. There

ain't a drop of yeller in it; not a drop, Sammy. Ollie ain't to say bad, but he ain't just our kind. Lord! But I'd

like to o' seen Young Matt a givin' it to Wash Gibbs!" He threw back his head and roared with delight. "Just

wait 'till I see Wash. I'll ask him if he thinks Young Matt would need a pry for to lift that mill engine with,

now." Then all of a sudden the laugh died out, and the man's dark face was serious, as he said, slowly, "The

boy'll have to watch him, though. It'll sure be war from this on; the worst kind of war."

"Daddy, what do you think Wash would have done to me, if Young Matt had not been there?"

That metallic ring was in Jim's voice, now, as he replied, "Wash Gibbs ought to knowed better than to done

that. But it was a blessin' Young Matt was there, wasn't it? He'd take care of you anywhere. I wouldn't never

The girl hid her face on her father's shoulder, as she said, "Daddy, will Wash Gibbs come here any more

Jim answered uneasily, "I don't know, girl. I reckon he'll be around again after a time."

There was a pause for a little while; then Sammy, with her arms still about his neck, said, "Daddy, I'm going

to stay in the hills with you now. I am going to send Ollie away tomorrow, because as you say, he isn't our

"You don't understand, girl, and I can't tell you now. It all started way back when you was a little trick."

The young woman answered very gently, "Yes, I know. You have told me that often. But, Daddy, what

willwhat will our friends think, if you keep on with Wash Gibbs now, after what happened at the mill

today? Young Matt fought Gibbs because he insulted me and was going to hurt me. You say yourself that it

will be war between them now? Will you side with Wash? And if you do, won't it look like there was just a

This side of the situation had not struck Jim at first. He got up and walked the floor, while the girl, standing

quietly by the fireplace, watched him, a proud, fond light in her eyes. Sammy did not know what the bond

between her father and the big ruffian was, but she knew that it was not a light one. Now that the issue was

fairly defined, she felt confident that, whatever the cost, the break would be made.

But at this time it was well that she did not know how great the cost of breaking the bond between the two

Jim stopped before his daughter, and, placing a hand upon each shoulder, said, "Tell me, girl; are you so

powerful anxious to have me and Young Matt stay good friends like we've always been?"

And then, a rare smile came into the dark face of Jim Lane. He kissed the girl and said, "I'll do it, honey. I

THE next day when young Stewart came, the books were all back on the shelf in the main room of the cabin,

and Sammy, dressed in a fresh gown of simple goods and fashion, with her hair arranged carefully, as she had

The man was surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, what have you been doing to yourself?" he

"I have not been doing anything to myself. I have only done some things to my clothes and hair," returned the

Then he saw the books. "Why, where did these come from? He crossed the room to examine the volumes.

"Oh, yes. I understood that you were studying with him." He looked at her curiously, as though they were

meeting for the first time. Then, as she talked of her studies, his embarrassment deepened, for he found

himself foundering hopelessly before this cleareyed, clearbrained backwoods girl.

"Come," said Sammy at last. "Let us go for a walk." She led the way to her favorite spot, high up on the

shoulder of Dewey, and there, with Mutton Hollow at their feet and the big hills about them, with the long

blue ridges in the distance beyond which lay Ollie's world, she told him what he feared to learn. The man

refused to believe that he heard aright. "You do not understand," he protested, and he tried to tell her of the

place in life that would be hers as his wife. In his shallowness, he talked even of jewels, and dresses, and such

"But can all this add one thing to life itself?" she asked. "Is not life really independent of all these things? Do

they not indeed cover up the real life, and rob one of freedom? It seems to me that it must be so."

He could only answer, "But you know nothing about it. How can you? You have never been out of these

"No," she returned, "that is true; I have never been out of these woods, and you can never, now, get away

from the world into which you have gone." She pointed to the distant hills. "It is very, very far over there to

where you live. I might, indeed, find many things in your world that would be delightful; but I fear that I

should lose the things that after all are, to me, the really big things. I do not feel that the things that are

greatest in your life could bring happiness without that which I find here. And there is something here that

can bring happiness without what you call the advantages of the world to which you belong."

"Nothing," she said. "But I know a little of life. And I have learned some things that I fear you have not.

Beside, I know now that I do not love you. I have been slow to find the truth, but I have found it. And this is

"No. It came to me here on the rock last evening after you were gone. I heard a strange story; the story of a

Ollie saw that further persuasion was of no avail, and as he left her, she watched him out of sight for the last

timealong the trail that is nobody knows how old. When he was gone, in obedience to an impulse she did

not try to understand, she ran down the mountain to the cabin in the HollowYoung Matt's cabin. And when

the shepherd came in from the hills with his flock he found the house in such order as only a woman's hand

The old man's heart sank. It had come then. Bravely he concealed his feelings, as he assured her in the

"Then," said Sammy; "I know enough, even if I am not good enough, to live in the hills."

The brown eyes, deep under their shaggy brows, were aglow with gladness, and there was a note of triumph

in the scholar's voice as he said, "Then you do not regret learning the things I have tried to teach you? You

"Regret? Dad. Regret?" The young woman drew herself up and lifted her arms. "Oh, Dad, I see it all, now; all

that you have been trying in a thousand ways to teach me. You have led me into a new world, the real world,

the world that has always been and must always be, and in that world man is king; king because he is a man.

Then the master knew that his teaching had not been in vain. "I can lead you no farther, my child," he said

She came close to him, "Then I want my diploma," she said, for he had told her about the schools.

Reverently the old scholar kissed her brow. "This is the only diploma I am authorized to givethe love and

THE corn was big enough to cultivate the first time, and Young Matt with Old Kate was hard at work in the

It was nearly three weeks since the incident at the mill, since which time the young fellow had not met

Sammy Lane to talk with her. He had seen her, though, at a distance nearly every day, for the girl had taken

up her studies again, and spent most of her time out on the hills with the shepherd. That day he saw her as she

turned into the mill road at the lower corner of the field, on her way to the Forks. And he was still thinking of

her three hours later, as he sat on a stump in the shade of the forest's edge, while his horse was resting.

Young Matt recalled the fight at the mill with a wild joy in his heart. Under any circumstances it was no

small thing to have defeated the champion strong man and terror of the hills. It was a glorious thing to have

done the deed for the girl he loved, and under her eyes. Sammy might give herself to Ollie, now, and go far

away to the great world, but she could never forget the man who had saved her from insult, when her lover

was far too weak to save even himself. And Young Matt would stay in the hills alone, but always he would

have the knowledge and the triumph of this thing that he had done. Yes, it would be easier now, but

stillstill the days would be years when there was no longer each morning the hope that somewhere before

The sun fell hot and glaring on the hillside field, and in the air was the smell of the freshly turned earth. High

up in the blue a hawk circled and circled again. A puff of air came sighing through the forest, touched lightly

the green blades in the open, slipped over the ridge, and was lost in the sky beyond. Old Kate, with head

down, was dreaming of cool springs in shady dells, and a little shiny brown lizard with a bright blue tail crept

The man turned his head quickly; the lizard dodged under the rail; and old Kate awoke with a start. Someone

was coming along the road below. Young Matt knew the step of that horse, as well as he knew the sound of

The brown pony stopped at the lower corner of the field, and a voice called, "You'd better be at work. I don't

The big fellow went eagerly down the hill to the fence. "I sure ought to o' done better'n that, for it's been long

enough since you went by. I always notice, though, that it gets a heap farther to the other side of the field and

Sammy laughed, "Couldn't hear a thing but how the champion strong man was beaten at his own game. Uncle

Ike says, 'Ba thundas! You tell Young Matt that he'd better come over. A man what can ride Wash Gibbs a

bug huntin' is too blamed good a man t' stay at home all th' time. We want him t' tell us how he done it. Ba

The man crossed his arms on the top rail of the worm fence, and laughed. It was good to have Sammy deliver

her message in just that way. "I reckon Uncle Ike thinks I ought to go dancin' all over the hills now, with a

"I don't think you'll do that," she returned. "Dad Howitt wouldn't, would he? But I must hurry on now, or

Daddy's supper won't be ready when he comes in. I stopped to give you these papers for your father." She

handed him the package. "Andand I want to thank you, Matt, for what you did at the mill. All my life you

have been fighting for me, andand I have never done anything for you. I wish I could do

Her voice faltered. He was so big and strong, and there was such a look of hopeless love and pain on his

rugged facea face that was as frank and open as a child's. Here was a man who had no need for the shallow

cunning of little foxlike men. This one would go open and bold on his way, and that which he could not take

by his strength he would not have. Had she not seen him in battle? Had she not seen his eyes like polished

steel points? Deep down in her heart, the woman felt a thrill of triumph that such a man should stand so

Young Matt climbed slowly up the hill again to his seat on the stump. Here he watched until across the

Hollow he saw the pony and his rider come out of the timber and move swiftly along the ridge; watched until

they faded into a tiny spot, rounded the mountain and disappeared from sight. Then, lifting his eyes, he

looked away beyond the long blue line that marked the distant horizon. Some day he would watch Sammy

ride away and she would go on, and on, and on, beyond that blue line, put of his life forever.

Ollie had gone over there to live, and the shepherd had come from there. What was that world like, he

wondered. Between the young man of the mountains and that big world yonder there had always been a

closely shut door. He had seen the door open to Ollie, and now Sammy stood on the threshold. Would it ever

open for him? And, if it did, what? Then came a thought that made his blood leap. Might he not force it open?

Young Matt felt a strong man's contempt for the things Ollie had gotten out of the world, but he stood in awe

before Mr. Howitt. He told himself, now, that he would look for and find the things yonder that made Dad the

man he was. He would carry to the task his splendid strength. Nothing should stop him. And Sammy, when

she understood that he was going away to be like the shepherd, would wait awhile to give him his chance.

Looking up again, his eye caught a slow, shifting patch of white on the bench above Lost Creek, where the

little stream begins its underground course. The faint bark of a dog came to him through the thin still air, and

the patch of white turned off into the trail that leads to the ranch. "Dad!" exclaimed the young man in

And so while the sunlight danced on the green field, and old Kate slept in the lengthening shadows of the

timber, the lad gave himself to his dreams and built his castlesas we all have builded.

His dreaming was interrupted as the supper bell rang, and, with the familiar sound, a multitude of other

thoughts came crowding in; the father and motherthey were growing old. Would it do to leave them alone

with the graves on the hill yonder, and the mystery of the Hollow? And there was the place to care for, and

It was like the strong man that the fight did not last long. Young Matt's fights never lasted very long. By the

time he had unhitched old Kate from the cultivator, it was finished. The lad went down the hill, his bright

castles in ruineven as we all have gone, or must sometime go down the hill with our brightest castles in

THAT same night, Mr. Lane told his daughter that he would leave home early the next morning to be gone

Sammy paused with one hand on the cupboard door to ask, "With Wash Gibbs, Daddy?"

"No, I ain't goin' with Wash; but I'll likely meet up with him before I get back." There was a hint of that

The girl placed her armful of dishes carefully on the cupboard shelf; "You'reyou're not going to forget

The mountaineer was carefully dropping a bit of oil into the lock of his big revolver. "No, girl, I ain't

forgettin' nothin'. This here's the last ride I aim to take with Wash. I'm goin' to see him to,"he paused and

listened carefully to the click, click, click, as he tested the action of his weapon"to keep my promise."

"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm so glad! I wanted this more than I ever wanted anything in all my life before. You're

such a good Daddy to me, I never could bear to see you with that bad, bad man." She was behind his chair

now, and, stooping, laid her fresh young cheek against the swarthy, furrowed face.

The man sat like a grim, stone image, his eyes fixed on the gun resting on his knees. Not until she lifted her

head to stand erect behind his chair, with a hand on each shoulder, did he find words. "Girl, there's just one

thing I've got to know for sure before I go tomorrow. I reckon I'm right, but somehow a man can't never tell

"Tell what, Daddy Jim?" the girl asked, her hands stealing up to caress her father's face.

" 'Cause I want to be plumb sure I ain't makin' no mistake in sidin' with the boy in this here trouble."

"You couldn't make a mistake in doing that, Daddy, no matter whether Ino matter whatbut perhaps Matt

Just a ray of humor touched the dark face. "I ain't makin' no mistake there. I know what the man will do." He

laid the gun upon the table, and reaching up caught the girl's hand. "But I want to know what you'll say when

"Oh, I'm so sure that it seems as if II couldn't wait for him to come to me. I never felt this way before,

The mountaineer drew his daughter into his arms, and held her close, as he said, "I ain't afraid to do it, now,

The young woman was so occupied with her own thoughts and the emotions aroused by her father's question,

that she failed to note the ominous suggestion that lay under his words. So she entered gaily into his plans for

Jim would leave early in the morning, and Sammy was to stay with her friend, Mandy Ford, over on Jake

Creek. Mr. Lane had arranged with Jed Holland to do the milking, so there would be no reason for the girl's

return until the following evening, and she must promise that she would not come home before that time.

Sammy promised laughingly. He need not worry; she and Mandy had not had a good visit alone for weeks.

When his daughter had said goodnight, Jim extinguished the light, and slipping the big gun inside his shirt

went to sit outside the cabin door with his pipe. An hour passed. Sammy was fast asleep. And still the man sat

smoking. A half hour more went by. Suddenly the pipe was laid aside, and Jim's hand crept inside his shirt to

find the butt of the revolver. His quick ear had caught the sound of a swiftly moving horse coming down the

The horse stopped at the gate and a low whistle came out of the darkness. Leaving his seat, Sammy's father

crossed the yard, and, a moment later, the horse with its rider was going on again down the trail toward the

Jim waited at the gate until the sound of the horse's feet had died away in the night. Then he returned to the

cabin. But even as he walked toward the house, a dark figure arose from a clump of bushes within a few feet

of the spot where Jim and the horseman had met. The figure slipped noiselessly away into the forest.

The next morning Jim carefully groomed and saddled the brown pony for Sammy, then, leading his own

horse ready for the road, he came to the cabin door. "Going now, Daddy?" said the girl, coming for the

Sammy was frightened at the sight of his face, so strange and white. "Why Daddy, Daddy Jim, what is the

"Nothin', girl, nothin'. Onlyonly you're so like your mother, girl. Sheshe used to come just this way

when I'd be leavin'. You're sure like her, andand I'm glad. I'm glad you're like the old folks, too.

Remember now, stay at Mandy's until tomorrow evenin'. Kiss me again, honey. Goodby."

He mounted hurriedly and rode away at a brisk gallop. Pulling up a moment at the edge of the timber, he

SAMMY arrived at the Ford homestead in time for dinner, and was joyfully received by her friend, Mandy.

But early in the afternoon, their pleasure was marred by a messenger from Long Creek on the other side of

the river. Mrs. Ford's sister was very ill, and Mrs. Ford and Mandy must go at once.

"But Sammy can't stay here alone," protested the good woman. "Mandy, you'll just have to stay."

"Indeed, she shall not," declared their guest. "I can ride up Jake Creek to the Forks and stay all night at Uncle

Ike's. Brownie will make it easily in time for supper. You just get your things on and start right away."

"You'd better hurry; too," put in Mr. Ford. "There's a storm comin' 'fore long, an' we got t' git across th' river

'fore hit strikes. I'll be here with th' horses by the time you get your bonnets on." He hurried away to the barn

for his team, while the women with Sammy's assistance made their simple preparation.

As mother Ford climbed into the big wagon, she said to Sammy, "Hit's an awful lonely ol' trip fer you, child;

an' you must start right away, so's t' be sure t' get there 'fore hit gets plumb dark," while Mr. Ford added, as he

started the team, "Your pony's ready saddled, an' if you'll hurry along, you can jest 'bout make hit. Don't get

"Don't you worry about me," returned the girl, "Brownie and I could find the way in the dark."

But when her friends were gone, Sammy, womanlike, busied herself with setting the disordered house aright

before she started on her journey. Watching the clouds, she told herself that there was plenty of time for her

to reach the Postoffice before the storm. It might not come that way at all, in fact.

But the way up Jake Creek was wild and rough, and along the faint trail, that twisted and wound like a slim

serpent through the lonely wilderness, Brownie could make but slow time. As they followed the little path,

the walls of the narrow valley grew steeper, more rocky, and barren; and the road became more and more

rough and difficult, until at last the valley narrowed to a mere rocky gorge, through which the creek ran,

It was quite late when Sammy reached the point near the head of the stream where the trail leads out of the

ca�on to the road on the ridge above. It was still a good two miles to the Forks. As she passed the spring, a

few big drops of rain came pattering down, and, looking up, she saw, swaying and tossing in the wind, the

trees that fringed the ledges above, and she heard the roar of the oncoming storm.

A short way up the side of the mountain at the foot of a great overhanging cliff, there is a narrow bench, and

less than a hundred feet from where the trail finds its way through a break in the rocky wall, there is a deep

Pushing Brownie up the steep path, she had reached this bench, when the rushing storm cloud shut out the

last of the light, and the hills shook with a deafening crash of thunder. Instinctively the girl turned her pony's

head from the trail, and, following the cliff, reached the sheltered nook, just as the storm burst in all its wild

The rain came down in torrents; the forest roared; and against the black sky, in an almost continuous glare of

lightning, the big trees tugged and strained in their wild wrestle with the wind; while peal after peal of

thunder, rolling, crashing, reverberating through the hills, added to the uproar.

It was over in a little while. The wind passed; the thunder rumbled and growled in the distance; and the rain

fell gently; but the sky was still lighted by the red glare. Though it was so dark that Sammy could see the

trees and rocks only by the lightning's flash, she was not frightened. She knew that Brownie would find the

way easily, and, as for the wetting, she would soon be laughing at that with her friends at the Postoffice.

But, as the girl was on the point of moving, a voice said, "It's a mighty good thing for us this old ledge

happened to be here, ain't it?" It was a man's voice, and another replied, "Right you are. And it's a good thing,

The speakers were between Sammy and the trail. They had evidently sought shelter from the storm a few

seconds after the girl had gained her position. In the wild uproar she had not heard them, and, as they

crouched under the cliff, they were hidden by a projection of the rock, though now and then, when the

lightning flashed, she could see a part of one of the horses. They might be neighbors and friends. They might

be strangers, outlaws even. The young woman was too wise to move until she was sure.

"Got a good start," replied the other. "He ought to be back with the posse by ten at the latest. I told him we

"And how far do you say it is to Jim Lane's place, by the road and the Old Trail?" asked the first voice.

At the man's words a terrible fear gripped Sammy's heart. "Posse," that could mean only one thing,officers

of the law. But her father's name and her homein an instant Jim's strange companionship with Wash Gibbs,

their long mysterious rides together, her father's agitation that morning, when he said goodby, with a

thousand other things rushed through her mind. What terrible thing was this that she had happened upon in

the night? What horrible trap had they set for her Daddy, her Daddy Jim? For trap it was. It could be nothing

else. At any risk she must hear more. She had already lost the other man's reply. Calming herself, the girl

A match cracked. The light flared out, and a whiff of tobacco smoke came curling around the rock, as one of

the men said: "Are you sure there is no mistake about their meeting at Lane's tonight?"

"Can't possibly be," came the answer. "I was lying in the brush, right by the gate when the messenger got

there, and I heard Jim give the order myself. Take it all the way through, unless we make a slip tonight, it

"Yes," said the other; "but you mustn't forget that it all hinges on whether or not that bank watchman was

"The man couldn't be mistaken there," returned the other. "There is not another man in the country the size of

Gibbs, except the two Matthews's, and of course they're out of the question. Then, look! Jim Lane was ready

to move out because of the drought, when all at once, after being away several days the very time of the

robbery, he changes his mind, and stays with plenty of money to carry him through. And now, here we are

tonight, with that same old Bald Knobber gang, what's left of them, called together in the same old way by

Jim himself, to meet in his cabin. Take my word for it, we'll bag the whole outfit, with the rest of the swag

before morning. It's as sure as fate. I'm glad that girl is away from home, though."

Sammy had heard enough. As the full meaning of the officers' words came to her, she felt herself swaying

dizzily in the saddle and clung blindly to the pony's mane for support. Then something in her brain kept

Never for an instant did Sammy doubt her father. It was all some horrible mistake. Her Daddy Jim would

explain it all. Of course he would, ifif she could only get home first. But the men were between her and the

Then all at once she remembered that Young Matt had told her how Sake Creek hollow headed in the pinery

below the ridge along which they went from Fall Creek to the Forks. It might be that this bench at the foot of

As quick as thought the girl slipped to the ground, and taking Brownie by the head began feeling her way

along the narrow shelf. Dead leaves, tangled grass and ferns, all wet and sodden, made a soft carpet, so that

the men behind the rock heard no sound. Now and then the lightning revealed a glimpse of the way for a

short distance, but mostly she trusted blindly to her pony's instinct. Several times she stumbled over jagged

fragments of rock that had fallen from above, cutting her hand and bruising her limbs cruelly. Once, she was

saved from falling over the cliff by the little horse's refusal to move. A moment she stood still in the

After a time that seemed hours, she noticed that the ledge had become no higher than her head, and that a

little farther on the bench was lost in the general slope of the hill. She had reached the head of the hollow. A

short climb up the side of the mountain, and, pushing through the wet bushes, she found herself in the road.

She had saved about three miles. It was still nearly five to her home. An instant later the girl was in her

Sammy always looked back upon that ride in the darkness, and, indeed, upon all that happened that night, as

to a dream of horror. As she rode, that other night came back to her, the night she had ridden to save the

shepherd, and she lived over again that evening in the beautiful woods with Young Matt. Oh, if he were only

with her now! Unconsciously, at times, she called his name aloud again and again, keeping time to the beat of

her pony's feet. At other times she urged Brownie on, and the little horse, feeling the spirit of his mistress,

answered with the best he had to give. With eager, outstretched head, and wide nostrils, he ran as though he

How dark it was! At every bound they seemed plunging into a black wall. What if there should be a tree

blown across the road? At the thought she grew faint. She saw herself lying senseless, and her father carried

away to prison. Then rallying, she held her seat carefully. She must make it as easy as possible for Brownie,

dear little Brownie. How she strained her eyes to see into the black night! How she prayed God to keep the

Only once in a lifetime, it seemed to her, did the pony's iron shoe strike sparks of fire from the rocks, or the

lightning give her a quick glimpse of the road ahead. They must go faster, faster, faster. Those men should

Where the road leaves the ridge for Fall Creek Valley, Sammy never tightened the slack rein, and the pony

never shortened his stride by so much as an inch. It was well that he was hill bred, for none but a mountain

horse could have kept his feet at such a terrific pace down the rocky slope. Down the valley road, past the

mill, and over the creek they flew; then up the first rise of the ridge beyond. The pony was breathing hard

now, and the girl encouraged him with loving words and endearing terms; pleading with him to go on, go on,

At last they reached the top of the ridge. The way was easier now. Here and there, where the clouds were

breaking, the stars looked through; but over the distant hills, the lightning still played, showing which way

the storm had gone; and against the sky, now showing but dimly under ragged clouds and peeping stars, now

outlined clearly against the flashing light, she saw the round treeless form of Old Dewey above her home.

SAMMY, on her tired pony, approached the Lookout on the shoulder of Dewey. As they drew near a figure

rose quickly from its place on the rock, and, running swiftly along the ledge, concealed itself in the clump of

cedars above the trail on the southern side of the mountain. A moment later the almost exhausted horse and

his rider passed, and the figure, slipping from the ledge, followed them unobserved down the mountain.

Nearing the house Sammy began to wonder what she should do next. With all her heart the girl believed in

her father's innocence. She did not know why those men were at her home. But she did know that the money

that helped her father over the drought had come through the shepherd; the Matthews family, too, had been

helped the same way. Surely Dad Howitt was incapable of any crime. It was all some terrible mistake; some

trap from which her father must be saved. But Sammy knew, too, that Wash Gibbs and his companions were

bad men, who might easily be guilty of the robbery. To help them escape the officers was quite a different

Leaving the trembling Brownie in a clump of bushes a little way from the clearing, the girl went forward on

foot, and behind her still crept the figure that had followed from the Lookout. Once the figure paused as if

undecided which course to pursue. Close by, two saddle horses that had carried their riders on many a long

ride were tied to a tree a few feet from the corner of the barn. Sammy would have recognized these, but in her

At first the girl saw no light. Could it be that the officers were wrong? that there was no one at the cabin after

all? Then a little penciled gleam set her heart throbbing wildly. Blankets were fastened over the windows.

Sammy remembered that a few days before a bit of chinking had fallen from between the logs in the rear of

the cabin. She had spoken to her father about it, but it was not likely that he had remembered to fix it.

Cautiously she passed around the house, and, creeping up to the building, through the crevice between the

Seated or lounging on chairs and on the floor about the room were eleven men; one, the man who had been

with Wash Gibbs at the mill, carried his arm in a sling. The girl outside could hear distinctly every word that

was spoken. Wash, himself, was speaking. "Well, boys, we're all here. Let's get through and get away. Bring

Mr. Lane went to one corner of the cabin, and, pulling up a loose board of the flooring, drew out two heavy

sacks. As he placed the bags on the table, the men all rose to their feet. "There it is just as you give it to me,"

The company stirred uneasily, and all eyes turned from Jim to their big leader, while Sammy noticed for the

first time that the table had been moved from its usual place, and that her father had taken such a position that

the corner of the cabin was directly behind him, with the table in front. For her life the girl could not have

Slowly Jim swept the group of scowling, wondering faces on the other side of the table. Then, in his slow

drawling speech, he said, "Most of you here was in the old organization. Tom and Ed and me knows how it

started away back, for we was in it at the beginnin'. Wash, here, was the last man to join, 'fore we was busted,

and he was the youngest member, too; bein' only a boy, but big for his age. You remember how he was taken

"Didn't ary one of us fellers that started it ever think the Bald Knobber's would get to be what they did. We

began it as a kind of protection, times bein' wild then. But first we knowed some was a usin' the order to

protect themselves in all kinds of devilment, and things went on that way, 'cause nobody didn't dare say

anything; for if they did they was tried as traitors, and sentenced to the death.

"I ain't a sayin', boys, that I was any better than lots of others, for I reckon I done my share. But when my

girl's mother died, away down there in Texas, I promised her that I'd be a good daddy to my little one, and

"After things quieted down, and I come back with my girl, Wash here got the old crowd, what was left of us,

together, and wanted to reorganize again. I told you then that I'd go in with you and stand by the old oath, so

long as it was necessary to protect ourselves from them that might be tryin' to get even for what had been

done, but that I wouldn't go no farther. I don't mind tellin' you now, boysthough I reckon you know

itthat I went in because I knowed what you'd do for me if I didn't. And I didn't dare risk leaving my girl all

alone then. I've 'tended every meetin', and done everything I agreed, and there ain't a man here can say I

Some of the men nodded, and "That's so," and "You're right, Jim" came from two or three.

Jim went on, "You know that I voted against it, and tried to stop you when you hung old man Lewis. I

thought then, and I think yet, that it was spite work and not protection; and you know how I was against goin'

for the shepherd, and you went when I didn't know it. As for this here bank business, I didn't even know of it,

'till you give me this stuff here for me to keep for you. I had to take it 'count of the oath.

"It's got to be just like it was before. We come together first to keep each other posted, and save ourselves if

there was any call to, and little by little you've been led into first one thing and then another, 'till you're every

bit and grain as bad as the old crowd was, only there ain't so many of you, and you've kept me in it 'cause I

didn't dare leave my girl." Jim paused. There was an ominous silence in the room.

With his eyes covering every scowling face in the company, Jim spoke again, "But things has changed for me

right smart, since our last meetin', when you give me this stuff to hold. You boys all know how I've kept

Wash Gibbs away from my girl, and there ain't one of you that don't know I'm right, knowin' him as we do.

More'n two weeks ago, when I wasn't around, he insulted her, and would have done worse, if Young Matt

hadn't been there to take care of her. I called you here tonight, because I knowed that after what happened at

the mill, Wash and Bill would be havin' a meetin' as soon as they could get around, and votin' you all to go

Wash Gibbs reached stealthily for his weapon, but hesitated when he saw that the dark faced man noted his

Jim continued, in his drawling tones, but his voice rang cold and clear, "I ain't never been mealy mouthed

with no man, and I'm too old to begin now. I know the law of the order, and I reckon Gibbs there will try to

have you keep it. You boys have got to say whether you'll stand by him or me. It looks like you was goin' to

go with him alright. But whether you do or don't, I don't aim to stay with nobody that stands by such as Wash

Gibbs. I'm goin' to side with decent folks, who have stood by my girl, and you can do your damnedest. You

take this stuff away from here. And as for you, Wash Gibbs, if you ever set foot on my place again, if you

ever cross my path after tonight I'll kill you like the measly yeller hound you are." As he finished, Jim stood

with his back to the corner of the room, his hand inside of the hickory shirt where the button was missing.

While her father was speaking, Sammy forgot everything, in the wild joy and pride of her heart. He was her

Daddy, her Daddy Jim; that man standing so calmly there before the wild company of men. Whatever the

past had been, he had wiped it clean tonight. He belonged to her now, all to her. She looked toward Wash

Gibbs. Then she remembered the posse, the officers of the law. They could not know what she knew. If her

father was taken with the others and with the stolen gold, he would be compelled to suffer with the rest. Yet if

she called out to save him, she would save Wash Gibbs and his companions also, and they would menace her

The girl drew back from the window. She must think. What should she do? Even as she hesitated, a score of

dark forms crept swiftly, silently toward the cabin. At the same moment a figure left the side of the house

near the girl, and, crouching low, ran to the two horses that were tied near the barn.

Sammy was so dazed that for a moment she did not grasp the meaning of those swiftly moving forms. Then a

figure riding one horse and leading another dashed away from the barn and across a corner of the clearing.

The silence was broken by a pistol shot in the cabin. Like an echo came a shot from the yard, and a voice

rang out sharply, "Halt!" The figure reeled in the saddle, as if to fall, but recovered, and disappeared in the

timber. The same instant there was a rush toward the housea loud call to surrendera woman's

WHEN Sammy opened her eyes, she was on the bed in her own room. In the other room someone was

At first the girl thought that she had awakened from a night's sleep, and that it was her father whom she

heard, building the fire before calling her, as his custom was. But no, he was not building the fire, he was

scrubbing the floor. How strange. She would call presently and ask what he meant by getting up before

daylight, and whether he thought to keep her from scolding him by trying to clean up what he had spilled

She had had a bad dream of some kind, but she could not remember just what it was. It was very strange that

something seemed to keep her from calling to her father just then. She would call presently. She must

remember first what that dream was. She felt that she ought to get up and dress, but she did not somehow

wish to move. She was strangely tired. It was her dream, she supposed. Then she discovered that she was

already fully dressed, and that her clothing was wet, muddy and torn. And with this discovery every incident

After awhile, she tried to rise to her feet, but fell back weak and dizzy, Who was that in the other room?

Could it be her father? Would he never finish scrubbing the floor in that corner? When she could bear the

suspense no longer, she called in a voice that sounded weak and far away; "Daddy, Oh, Daddy."

Instantly the noise ceased; a step crossed the room; and the shepherd appeared in the doorway. Placing the

lamp on a little stand, the old man drew a chair to the side of the bed, and laid his hand upon her forehead,

smoothing back the tangled hair. He spoke no word, but in his touch there was a world of tenderness.

Sammy looked at him in wonder. Where had he come from? Why was he there at all? And in her room? She

glanced uneasily about the apartment, and then back to the kind face of her old teacher. "Idon't think I

"Never mind, now, dear. Don't try to understand just yet. Aunt Mollie will be here in a few minutes. Matt has

The girl caught his hand; "Youyou won't leave me, Dad? You won't leave me alone? I'm afraid, Dad. I

"No, no, my child; I shall not leave you. But you must have something warm to drink. I have been preparing

it." He stepped into the other room, soon returning with a steaming cup. When she had finished the

While helping the girl into clean, dry clothing, Aunt Mollie spoke soothingly to her, as one would reassure a

frightened child. But Sammy could hear only the three men, moving about in the other room, doing

something and talking always in low tones. She did not speak, but in her brown eyes, that never left the older

When Mrs. Matthews had done what she could for the comfort of the girl, and the men had finished whatever

they were doing in the other room, Sammy said, "Aunt Mollie, I want to know. I must know. Won't you tell

When the shepherd came, she met him with the old familiar demand, "Tell me everything, Dad; everything. I

Instantly, as ever, her quick mind grasped the meaning that lay back of the words and her face grew deathly

white. Then she answered, "I will be brave and strong. But first, please open the window, Dad." He threw up

the sash. It was morning, and the mists were over the valley, but the mountain tops were bathed in light.

Sammy arose, and walked steadily to a chair by the open window. Looking out upon the beautiful scene, her

face caught the light that was on the higher ground, and she said softly, " 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the

hills.' That's our word, now, isn't it, Dad? I can share it with you, now." Then the shepherd told her. Young

Matt had been at the ranch with Mr. Howitt since early in the evening, and was taking his leave for the night

when they heard horses stopping at the corral, and a voice calling. Upon their answering, the voice said,

"There is trouble at Jim Lane's. Take these horses and go quick." And then as they had run from the house,

the messenger had retreated into the shadow of the bluff, saying, "Never mind me. If you love Sammy,

The old man did not tell the girl that he had found his saddle wet and slippery, and that when he reached the

They had found the officers ready to leave with their prisoners. All but two of the men were captured with

their bootyWash Gibbs alone escaping badly hurt, they thought, after killing one of the posse.

When they had asked for Sammy, one of the officers told them that she was at Ford's over on Jake Creek, but

another declared that he had heard a woman scream as they were making the attack. Young Matt had found

When the shepherd finished his brief account, the girl said, "Tell me all, Dad. I want to know all. Diddid

The old man's eyes were dim as he answered gently, "No, dear girl; they did not take him away." Then

Sammy knew why Dad had scrubbed the cabin floor, and what the three men who talked so low had been

She made no outcry, only a moan, as she looked away across the silent hills and the valley, where the mists

were slowly lifting; lifting slowly like the pale ghost of the starlight that was. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy Jim. You

sure kept your promise. You sure did. I'm gladglad they didn't get you, Daddy. They never would have

But there were no tears, and the shepherd, seeing after a little touched her hand. "Everything is ready, dear;

"Not just yet, Dad. I must tell you first how I came to be at home, and why I am gladoh, so glad, that I was

When the three, who with her teacher loved her best, had come, Sammy told her story; repeating almost word

for word what she had heard her father say to the men. When she had finished, she turned her face again to

the open window. The mists were gone. The landscape lay bright in the sun. But Sammy could not see.

"It is much better, so much better, as it is, my child," said the old scholar. "You see, dear, they would have

taken him away. Nothing could have saved him. It would have been a living death behind prison walls away

"Yes, I know, Dad. I understand. It is better as it is. Now, we will go to him, please." They led her into the

other room. The floor in the corner of the cabin where the shepherd had washed it was still damp.

Through it all, Sammy kept her old friend constantly by her side. "It is easier, Dad, when you are near." Nor

would she leave the house until it was all over, save to walk a little way with her teacher.

Young Matt and his father made the coffin of rough boards, sawed at the mill; and from the country round

about, the woodspeople came to the funeral, or, as they called it in their simple way, the "burying." The

grave was made in a little glen not far from the house. When some of the neighbors would have brought a

minister from the settlement, Sammy said, "No." Dad would say all that was necessary. So the shepherd,

standing under the big trees, talked a little in his simple kindly way, and spoke the words, "Earth to earth,

dust to dust, ashes to ashes." "As good," declared some, "as any preacher on earth could o' done hit;" though

one or two held "it warn't jest right to put a body in th' ground 'thout a regular parson t' preach th' sermon."

When the last word was spoken, and the neighbors had gone away over the mountains and through the woods

to their homes, Aunt Mollie with her motherly arm about the girl, said, "Come, honey; you're our girl now.

As long as you stay in the hills, you shall stay with us." And Old Matt added, "You're the only daughter we've

When Sammy told them that she was not going to the city to live, they cried in answer, "Then you shall be

our girl always," and they took her home with them to the big log house on the ridge.

For a week after that night at the Lane cabin, Pete was not seen. When at last, he did appear, it was to the

shepherd on the hill, and his voice and manner alarmed Dad. But the boy's only reply to Mr. Howitt's

question was, "Pete knows; Pete knows." Then in his own way he told something that sent the shepherd to

Young Matt, and the two followed the lad to a spot where the buzzards were flying low through the trees.

By the shreds of clothing and the weapons lying near, they knew that the horrid thing, from which as they

approached, carrion birds flapped their wings in heavy flight, was all that remained of the giant, Wash Gibbs.

Many facts were brought out at the trial of the outlaws and it was made clear that Jim Lane had met his death

at the hands of Wash Gibbs, just at the beginning of the attack, and that Gibbs himself had been wounded a

MR. MATTHEWS and his son first heard of the stranger through Lou Gordon, the mail carrier, who stopped

The native rode close to the shed, and waited until the saw had shrieked its way through the log of oak, and

the carriage had rattled back to first position. Then with the dignity belonging to one of his station, as a

government officer, he relieved his overcharged mouth of an astonishing quantity of tobacco, and drawled,

"Yes," returned Old Matt; "we ought to got 'em out last week, but seems like we couldn't get at it with the

" 'Pears like you all 'r gettin' mighty proud in this neighborhood. Puncheon floors used t' be good enough fer

Mr. Matthews laughed, "Bring your logs over to Fall Creek when you get ready to build, Lou; we'll sure do

The representative of the government recharged his mouth. " 'Lowed as how I would," he returned. "I ain't

one o' this here kind that don't want t' see no changes. Gov'ment's all th' time makin' 'provements. Inspector

'lowed last trip we'd sure be a gettin' mail twice a week at Flag next summer. This here's sure bound t' be a

"Talkin' 'bout new fangled things, though, men! I seed the blamdest sight las' night that ever was in these

woods, I reckon. I gonies! Hit was a plumb wonder!" Kicking one foot from the wooden stirrup and hitching

"Little feller, he is. Ain't as tall as Preachin' Bill even, an' fat! I gonies! he's fat as a possum 'n 'simmon time.

He don't walk, can't; just naturally waddles on them little duck legs o' hisn. An' he's got th' prettiest little ol'

face; all red an' white, an' as round's a walnut; an' a fringe of th' whitest hair you ever seed. An' clothes! Say,

men." In the pause the speaker deliberately relieved his overcharged mouth. The two in the mill waited

breathlessly. "Long tailed coat, stove pipe hat, an' cane with a gold head as big as a 'tater. 'Fo' God, men,

there ain't been ary such a sight within a thousand miles of these here hills ever. An' doin's! My Lord,

The thin form of the native doubled up as he broke into a laugh that echoed and reechoed through the little

valley, ending in a wild, "Whoopeee. Say! When he got out of th' hack last night at th' Forks, Uncle Ike

he catched sight o' him an' says, says he t' me, 'Ba thundas! Lou, looky there! Talk 'bout prosperity. I'm

dummed if there ain't ol' Santa Claus a comin' t' th' Forks in th' summa time. 'Ba thundas! What!'

"An' when Santa come in, hehe wantedNow what d' you reckon he wanted? A bath! Yes, siree. Dad

burn me, 'f he didn't. A bath! Whoopee, you ought t' seen Uncle Ike! He told him, 'Ba thundas!' he could

give him a bite to eat an' a place to sleep, but he'd be pisined bit by rattlers, clawed by wild cats, chawed by

the hogs, et by buzzards, an' everlastin'ly damned 'fore he'd tote water 'nough fer anybody t' swim in. 'Ba

"What's he doin' here?" asked Mr. Matthews, when the mountaineer had recovered from another explosion.

Lou shook his head, as he straightened himself in the saddle. "Blame me 'f I kin tell. Jest wouldn't tell 't all

last night. Wanted a bath. Called Uncle Ike some new fangled kind of a savage, an' th' old man 'lowed he'd

show him. He'd sure have him persecuted fer 'sultin' a gov'ment servant when th' inspector come around. Yes

"Well, I must mosey along. He warn't up this mornin' when I left. Reckon he'll show up 'round here sometime

'fore sun down. Him an' Uncle Ike won't hitch worth a cent an' he'll be huntin' prouder folks. I done told th'

old man he'd better herd him fer a spell, fer if he was t' get loose in these woods, there wouldn't be nary deer

er bear left come Thanksgivin' time. Uncle Ike said 'Ba thundas!' he'd let me know that he warn't runnin' no

dummed asylum. He 'lowed he was postmaster, 'Ba thundas!' an' had all he could do t' keep th' dad burned

Late that afternoon Lou's prophecy was fulfilled. A wagon going down the Creek with a load of supplies for

the distillery stopped at the mill shed and the stranger began climbing carefully down over the wheels. Budd

Wilson on his high seat winked and nodded at Mr. Matthews and his son, as though it was the greatest joke of

"Got 'em, Mister," responded Budd promptly. The mules stood with drooping heads and sleepy eyes, the lines

The gentleman was feeling carefully about the hub of the wheel with a foot that, stretch as he might, could

"That's right, man, right," he puffed. "Hold them tight; tight. Start now, break a leg sure, sure. Then what

would Sarah and the girls do? Oh, blast it all, where is that step? Can't stay here all day. Bring a ladder. Bring

a high chair, a table, a box, a big box, ahehhehLook out, I say, look out! Blast it all, what do you

mean?" This last was called forth by Young Matt lifting the little man bodily to the ground, as an ordinary

To look up at the young giant, the stranger tipped back his head, until his shining silk hat was in danger of

falling in the dirt. "Bless my soul, what a specimen! What a specimen!" Then with a twinkle in his eye,

At this the three mountaineers roared with laughter. With his dumpy figure in the long coat, and his round

face under the tall hat, the little man was irresistible. He fairly shone with good humor; his cheeks were

polished like big red apples; his white hair had the luster of silver; his blue eyes twinkled; his silk hat

glistened; his gold watch guard sparkled; his patent leathers glistened; and the cane with the big gold head

"That's him, Doc," called the driver. "That's the feller what wallered Wash Gibbs like I was a tellin' ye.

Strongest man in the hills he is. Dad burn me if I believe he knows how strong he is."

"DocDocDad burnedDoc," muttered the stranger. "What would Sarah and the girls say!" He waddled

to the wagon, and reached up one fat hand with a half dollar to Budd, "Here, driver, here. Get cigars with

that; cigars, mind you, or candy. I stay here. Mind you don't get anything to drink; nothing to drink, I say."

Budd gathered up the reins and woke the sleepy mules with a vigorous jerk. "Nary a drink, Doc; nary a drink.

Thank you kindly all the same. Got t' mosey 'long t' th' still now; ought t' o' been there hour ago. 'f I can do

anything fer you, jest le' me know. I live over on Sow Coon Gap, when I'm 't home. Come over an' visit with

As he watched the wagon down the valley, the stranger mused. "DocDochuh. Quite sure that fellow will

When the wagon had disappeared, he turned to Mr. Matthews and his son; "According to that fellow, I am not

far from a sheep ranch kept by a Mr. Howitt. That's it, Mr. Daniel Howitt; fine looking man, fine; brown

eyes; great voice; gentleman, sir, gentleman, if he is keeping sheep in this wilderness. Blast it all, just like

him, just like him; always keeping somebody's sheep; born to be a shepherd; born to be. Know him?"

At mention of Mr. Howitt's name, Young Matt had looked at his father quickly. When the stranger paused, he

"DadDad Howitt. Doc and Dad. Well, what would Sarah and the girls say? Friend of mine? Young man

Daniel and David, I am David; Daniel and David lay on the same blanket when they were babies; played in

the same alley; school together same classes; colleged together; next door neighbors. Know him! Blast it all,

Again the two woodsmen exchanged glances. The elder Matthews spoke, "It ain't so far from here, sir. The

ranch belongs to me and my son. But Mr. Howitt will be out on the hills somewhere with the sheep now.

You'd better go home with us and have supper, and the boy will take you down this evenin'."

"Well, now, that's kind, sir; very kind, indeed. Man at the Postoffice is a savage, sir; blasted, old incorrigible

savage. My name is Coughlan; Dr. David Coughlan, of Chicago; practicing physician for forty years; don't do

anything now; not much, that is. Sarah and the girls won't let me. Your name, sir?"

"Grant Matthews. My boy there has the same. We're mighty glad to meet any friend of Dad's, I can tell you.

Soon they started homeward, Young Matt going ahead to do the chores, and to tell his mother of their coming

guest, while Mr. Matthews followed more slowly with the doctor. Shortening his stride to conform to the

slow pace of the smaller man, the mountaineer told his guest about the shepherd; how he had come to them;

of his life; and how he had won the hearts of the people. When he told how Mr. Howitt had educated Sammy,

buying her books himself from his meager wages, the doctor interrupted in his quick way, "Just like him! just

like him. Always giving away everything he earned. Made others give, too. Blast it all, he's cost me

thousands of dollars, thousands of dollars, treating patients of his that never paid a cent; not a cent, sir. Proud,

though; proud as Lucifer. Fine old, family; finest in the country, sir. Right to be proud, right to be."

Old Matt scowled as he returned coldly, "He sure don't seem that way to us, Mister. He's as common as an

old shoe." And then the mountaineer told how his son loved the shepherd, and tried to explain what the old

The stranger ejaculated, "Same old thing; same old trick. Did me that way; does everybody that way. Same

The big man answered with still more warmth, "You ought to hear how he talks to us folks when we have

meetin's at the Cove school house. He's as good as any preacher you ever heard; except that he don't put on as

much, maybe. Why, sir, when we buried Jim Lane week before last, everybody 'lowed he done as well as a

At this Dr. Coughlan stopped short and leaned against a convenient tree for support, looking up at his big

host, with merriment he could not hide; "Parson, parson! Daniel Howitt talk as good as a parson! Blast it all!

Dan is one of the biggest D. D.'s in the United States; as good as a parson, I should think so! Why, man, he's

my pastor; my pastor. Biggest church, greatest crowds in the city. Well what would Sarah and the girls say!"

He stood there gasping and shaking with laughter, until Old Matt, finding the ridiculous side of the situation,

joined in with a guffaw that fairly drowned the sound of the little man's merriment.

When they finally moved on again, the Doctor said, "And you never knew? The papers were always full,

"Stop!" Old Matt spoke so suddenly and in such a tone that the other jumped in alarm. "I ain't a meanin' no

harm, Doc; but you oughtn't to tell his name, andanyway I don't want to know. Preacher or no preacher,

he's a man, he is, and that's what counts in this here country. If Dad had wanted us to know about himself, I

The Doctor stopped short again, "Right, sir; right. Daniel has his reasons, of course. I forgot. That savage at

the Postoffice tried to interrogate me; tried to draw me. I was close; on guard you see. Fellow in the wagon

tried; still on guard. You caught me. Blast it all, I like you! Fine specimen that boy of yours; fine!"

When they reached the top of the ridge the stranger looked over the hills with exclamations of delight,

"Grand, sir; grand! Wish Sarah and the girls could see. Don't wonder Daniel staid. That Hollow down there

you say; way down there? MuttonMutton Hollow? Daniel lives there? Blast it all; come on, man; come

As they drew near the house, Pete came slowly up the Old Trail and met them at the gate.

AFTER supper Young Matt guided the stranger down the trail to the sheep ranch in Mutton Hollow.

When they reached the edge of the clearing, the mountaineer stopped. "Yonder's the cabin, sir, an' Dad is

there, as you can see by the smoke. I don't reckon you'll need me any more now, an' I'll go back. We'll be

mighty glad to see you on the ridge any time, sir. Any friend of Dad's is mighty welcome in this

"Thank you; thank you; very thoughtful; very thoughtful, indeed; fine spirit, fine. I shall see you again when

Daniel and I have had it out. Blast it all; what is he doing here? Good night, young man; goodnight." He

The dog barked as Dr. Coughlan approached the cabin, and the shepherd came to the open door. He had been

washing the supper dishes. His coat was off, his shirt open at the throat, and his sleeves rolled above his

elbows. "Here, Brave." The deep voice rolled across the little clearing, and the dog ran to stand by his

master's side. Then, as Mr. Howitt took in the unmistakable figure of the little physician, he put out a hand to

"Oh, it's me, Daniel; it's me. Caught you didn't I? Blast it all; might have known I would. Bound to; bound to,

Daniel; been at it ever since I lost you. Visiting in Kansas City last week with my old friends, the Stewarts;

young fellow there, Ollie, put me right. First part of your name, description, voice and all that; knew it was

you; knew it. Didn't tell them, though; blasted reporters go wild. Didn't tell a soul, not a soul. Sarah and the

girls think I am in Kansas City or Denver. Didn't tell old man Matthews, either; came near, though, very near.

In his excitement the little man spoke rapidly as he hurried toward the shepherd. When he reached the cabin,

As soon as the old scholar could speak, he said, "David, David! To think that this is really you. You of all

"Huh!" grunted the other. "Look like you never needed me less. Look fit for anything, anything; ten years

younger; every bit of ten years. Blast it all; what have you done to yourself? What have you done?" He

looked curiously at the tanned face and rude dress of his friend. "Bless my soul, what a change! What a

change! Told Matthews you were an aristocrat. He wouldn't believe it. Don't wonder. Doubt it myself, now."

The other smiled at the Doctor's amazement. "I suppose I have changed some, David. The hills have done it.

Look at them!" He pointed to the encircling mountains. "See how calm and strong they are; how they lift

their heads above the gloom. They are my friends and companions, David. And they have given me of their

calmness and strength a little. But come in, come in; you must be very tired. How did you come?"

The doctor followed him into the cabin. "Railroad, hack, wagon, walked. Postoffice last night. Man there is a

savage, blasted incorrigible savage. Mill this afternoon. Home with your friends on the ridge. Old man is a

gentleman, a gentleman, sir, if God ever made one. His boy's like him. The mother, she's a real mother; made

to be a mother; couldn't help it. And that young woman, with the boy's name, bless my soul, I never saw such

a creature before, Daniel, never! If I had IIBlast it all; I wouldn't be bossed by Sarah and the girls, I

wouldn't. See in that young man and woman what God meant men and women to be. Told them they ought to

marry; that they owed it to the race. You know my ideas, Daniel. Think they will?"

"What's the matter now, Daniel? What is the matter? Have I said anything wrong again? Blast it all; you

"No, indeed, David; you are exactly right," returned Mr. Howitt. "But tell me, did you see no one else at the

The doctor nodded. "I saw him; Pete, you mean. Looked him over. Mr. Matthews asked me to. Sad case, very

"Pete has not seemed as well as usual lately. I fear so much night roaming is not good for the boy," returned

the other slowly. "But tell me, how are Sarah and the girls? Still looking after Dr. Davie, I suppose."

"Just the same; haven't changed a bit; not a bit. Jennie looks after my socks and handkerchiefs; Mary looks

after my shirts and linen; Anna looks after my ties and shoes; Sue looks after my hats and coats; and Kate

looks after the things I eat; and Sarah, Sarah looks after everything and everybody, same as always. Blast it

all! If they'd give me a show, I'd be as good as ever; good as ever, Daniel. What can a man do; what can a

man do, with an only sister and her five old maid daughters looking after him from morning until night, from

morning until night, Daniel? Tell them I am a full grown man; don't do no good; no good at all. Blast it all;

While he was speaking, his eyes were dancing from one object to another in the shepherd's rude dwelling,

turning for frequent quick glances to Dad himself. "You live here, you? You ought not, Daniel, you ought

not. What would Sarah and the girls say? Blast it all; what do you mean by it? I ordered you away on a

vacation. You disappear. Think you dead; row in the papers, mystery; I hate mystery. Blast it all; what does it

By this time the little man had worked himself up to an astonishing pitch of excitement; his eyes snapped; his

words came like pistol shots; his ejaculations were genuine explosions. He tapped with his feet; rapped with

his cane; shook his finger; and fidgeted in his chair. "We want you back, Daniel. I want you. Church will

want you when they know; looking for a preacher right now. I come after you, Daniel. Blast it all, I'll tell

Sarah and the girls, and they'll come after you, too. Chicago will go wild when they know that Daniel Howitt

"Stop!" The doctor bounced out of his chair. The shepherd was trembling, and his voice shook with emotion.

"Forgive me, David. But that name must never be spoken again, never. My son is dead, and that name died

The physician noted his friend's agitation in amazement. "There, there, Daniel. I didn't mean to. Thought it

didn't matter when we were alone. IIBlast it all! Tell me Daniel, what do you mean by this strange

A look of mingled affection, regret and pain, came into the shepherd's face, as he replied, "Let me tell you the

When he had finished, Mr. Howitt asked gently, "Have I not done right, David? The boy is gone. It was hard,

going as he did. But I am glad, now, for Old Matt would have killed him, as he would kill me yet, if he knew.

Thank God, we have not also made the father a murderer. Did I not say rightly, that the old name died with

Howard? Have I not done well to stay on this spot and to give my life to this people?"

"Quite right, Daniel; quite right. You always are. It's me that goes wrong; blundering, bumping, smashing

The hour was late when the two men finally retired for the night. Long after his heavy, regular breathing

announced that the doctor was sleeping soundly, the shepherd lay wide awake, keenly sensitive to every

sound that stirred in the forest. Once he arose from his bed, and stepping softly left the cabin, to stand under

the stars, his face lifted to the dark summit of Old Dewey and the hills that rimmed the Hollow. And once,

when the first light of day came over the ridges, he went to the bunk where his friend lay, to look thoughtfully

Breakfast was nearly ready when Dr. Coughlan awoke. The physician saw at once by the worn and haggard

look on his friend's face that his had been a sleepless night. It was as though all the pain and trouble of the old

days had returned. The little doctor muttered angrily to himself while the shepherd was gone to the spring for

water. "Blast it all, I'm a fool, a meddlesome, old fool. Ought to have let well enough alone. No need to drag

When the morning meal was finished, Mr. Howitt said, "David, will you think me rude, if I leave you alone

today? The city pavement fits one but poorly to walk these hills of mine, and you are too tired after your trip

and the loss of your regular sleep to go with me this morning. Stay at the ranch and rest. If you care to read,

here are a few of your favorites. Will you mind very much? I should like to be alone today, David."

"Right, Daniel, right. I understand. Don't say another word; not a word. Go ahead. I'm stiff and sore anyway;

The shepherd arranged everything for his friend's comfort, putting things in readiness for his noonday meal,

and showing him the spring. Then, taking his own lunch, as his custom was, he went to the corral and

released the sheep. The doctor watched until the last of the flock was gone, and he could no longer hear the

WITH the coming of the evening, the shepherd returned to his guest. Dr. Coughlan heard first the bells on the

leaders of the flock, and the barking of the dog coming nearer and nearer through the woods. Soon the sheep

appeared trooping out of the twilight shadows into the clearing; then came Brave followed by his master.

The countenance of the old scholar wore again that look of calm strength and peace that had marked it before

the coming of his friend. "Have you had a good rest, David? Or has your day been long and tiresome? I fear it

The doctor told how he had passed the time, reading, sleeping and roaming about the clearing and the nearby

woods. "And you," he said, looking the other over with a professional eye, "you look like a new man; a new

man, Daniel. How do you do it? Some secret spring of youth in the wilderness? Blast it all, wish you would

"David, have you forgotten the prescription you gave me when you ordered me from the city? You took it

you remember from one of our favorite volumes." The shepherd bared his head and repeated,

"David, I never understood until the past months why the Master so often withdrew alone into the wilderness.

There is not only food and medicine for one's body; there is also healing for the heart and strength for the

soul in nature. One gets very close to God, David, in these temples of God's own building."

Dr. Coughlan studied his old friend curiously; "Change; remarkable change in you! Remarkable! Never said a

They retired early that evening, for the physician declared that his friend must need the rest. "Talk

tomorrow," he said; "all day; nothing else to do." He promptly enforced his decision by retiring to his own

bunk, leaving the shepherd to follow his example. But not until the doctor was sure that his friend was

It was just past midnight, when the shepherd was aroused by the doctor striking a match to light the lamp. As

Dr. Coughlan, thinking it some strange freak of the boy's disordered brain, and not wishing to break his

friend's much needed rest, was trying in low tones to persuade the boy to wait until morning.

"Pete wants Dad; Dad and the other man. They must sure go with Pete right quick."

"He told Pete. Right now, he said. And Pete he come. 'Course I come with him. Dad must go, an' the other

In sickness or in trouble of any kind the people for miles around had long since come to depend upon the

shepherd of Mutton Hollow. The old man turned now to the doctor. "Someone needs me, David. We must go

"But, Daniel, Daniel! Blast it all! The boy's not responsible. Where will he take us? Where do you want us to

"Now, look at that, Daniel! Look at that. Blast it all; we ought not go; not in the night this way. What would

Sarah and the girls say?" Notwithstanding his protests, the doctor was ready even before the shepherd. "Take

The youth, who stood in the doorway waiting impatiently, shook his head and laughed, "No, no; nothing can't

"It's all right, David," said the shepherd with conviction. "Pete knows. It is safe to trust him tonight."

"I wish you had your medicine case, though, David," added Mr. Howitt, as they followed the boy out into the

Pete led the way down the road, and straight to the old cabin ruin below the corral. Though the stars were

hidden behind clouds, it was a little light in the clearing; but, in the timber under the shadow of the bluff, it

was very dark. The two men were soon bewildered and stood still. "Which way, Pete?" said the shepherd.

There was no answer. "Where's Pete? Tell Pete to come here," said Mr. Howitt again. Still there was on reply.

Their guide seemed to have been swallowed up in the blackness. They listened for a sound. "This is strange,"

A grunt of disgust came from the doctor, "Crazy, man, crazy. There's three of us. Which way is the house?

Blast it all, what would" A spot of light gleamed under the bushes not fifty feet away.

They were standing close to the old cabin under the bluff. In a narrow space between the log wall of the

house and the cliff, Pete stood with a lighted lantern. The farther end of the passage was completely hidden

by a projection of the rock; the overhanging roof touched the ledge above; while the opening near the men

was concealed by the heavy growth of ferns and vines and the thick branches of a low cedar. Even in daylight

Dropping to his knees and to one hand the shepherd pushed aside the screen of vines and branches with the

other, and then on all fours crawled into the narrow passage. The Doctor followed. They found their guide

crouching in a small opening in the wall of rock. Mr. Howitt uttered an exclamation, "The lost cave! Old man

The boy laughed, "Pete knows. Come, Dad. Come, other man. Ain't nothin' can get you here." He scrambled

ahead of them into the low tunnel. Some twenty feet from the entrance, the passage turned sharply to the left

and opened suddenly into a hallway along which the shepherd could easily walk erect. Pete went briskly

forward as one on very familiar ground, his lantern lighting up the way clearly for his two companions.

For some distance their course dipped downward at a gentle angle, while the ceilings and sides dripped with

moisture. Soon they heard the sound of running water, and entering a wider room saw sparkling in the

lantern's light a stream that came from under the rocky wall, crossed their path, and disappeared under the

other wall of the chamber. "Lost Creek!" ejaculated the shepherd, as he picked his way over the stream on the

From the bank of the creek the path climbed strongly upward, the footing grew firmer, and the walls and

ceiling drier; as they went on, the passage, too, grew wider and higher, until they found themselves in a large

underground hallway that echoed loudly as they walked. Overhead, pure white stalactites and frostlike

formations glittered in the light, and the walls were broken by dark nooks and shelflike ledges with here and

At the farther end of this hallway where the ceiling was highest, the guide paused at the foot of a ledge

against which rested a rude ladder. The shepherd spoke again, "Dewey Bald?" he asked. Pete nodded, and

Another room, and another ledge; then a long narrow passage, the ceiling of which was so high that it was

beyond the lantern light; then a series of ledges, and they saw that they were climbing from shelf to shelf on

one side of an underground ca�on. Following along the edge of the chasm, the doctor pushed a stone over the

brink, and they heard it go bounding from ledge to ledge into the dark heart of the mountain. "No bottom,

They climbed one more ladder and then turned from the ca�on into another great chamber, the largest they

had entered. The floor was perfectly dry; the air, too, was dry and pure; and, from what seemed to be the

opposite side of the huge cavern, a light gleamed like a red eye in the darkness. They were evidently nearing

the end of their journey. Drawing closer they found that the light came from the window of a small cabin

Instinctively the two men stopped. Pete said in a low tone, as one would speak in a sacred presence, "He is

Still the boy's companions hesitated. Mr. Howitt asked, "Who, boy? who is there? Do you know who it is?"

"Hopeless case, Daniel; hopeless. Too bad, too bad," muttered the physician, laying his hand upon his friend's

Again the boy's voice lowered to a whisper, "Sometimes Pete says it must be God, 'cause he's so good. Dad

says God is good an' that he takes care of folks, an' he sure does that. 'Twas him that scared Wash Gibbs an'

his crowd that night. An' he sent the gold to you, Dad; God's gold it was; he's got heaps of it. He killed that

panther, too, when it was a goin' to fight Young Matt. Pete knows. You see, Dad, when Pete is with him, I

ain't nobody no more. I'm just Pete then, an' Pete is me. Funny, ain't it? But he says that's the way it is, an' he

The two friends listened with breathless interest. "And what does Pete call him?" asked the doctor.

"Pete calls him father, like Dad calls God. He talks to God, too, like Dad does. Do you reckon God would

With a cry the shepherd reeled. The doctor caught him. "Strong, Daniel, strong." Pete drew away from the

The old scholar's agitation was pitiful. "David, David; tell me, what is this thing? Can it bemy

boyHoward, my soncan it be? My God, David, what am I saying? He is dead. Dead, I tell you. Can the

dead come back from the grave, David?" He broke from his friend and ran staggering toward the cabin; but at

the door he stopped again. It was as if he longed yet feared to enter, and the doctor and the boy came to his

The room was furnished with a cupboard, table and small cook stove. It was evidently a living room. Through

a curtained opening at the right, a light showed from another apartment, and a voice called, "Is that you,

A look of pride came into the face of the lad, "That's me," he whispered. "I'm Pete here, an' Pete is me. It's

always that way with him." Aloud, he said, "Yes, Father, it's Pete. Pete, an' Dad, an' the other man." As he

For an instant the two men paused on the threshold. The room was small, and nearly bare of furniture. In the

full glare of the lamp, so shaded as to throw the rest of the room in deep shadow, hung a painting that seemed

to fill the rude chamber with its beauty. It was the picture of a young woman, standing by a spring of water, a

On a bed in the shadow, facing the picture, lay a man. A voice faltered, "Father. Dr. Coughlan."

"Forgive you, my son? Forgive you? My dear boy, there has never been in my heart a thought but of love and

sympathy. Pain there has been, I can't deny, but it has helped me to know what you have suffered. I

understand it now, my boy. I understand it all, for I, too, have felt it. But when I first knew, even beneath all

the hurt, I was gladglad to know, I mean. It is a father's right to suffer with his child, my son. It hurt most,

when the secret stood between us, and I could not enter into your life, but I understand that, too. I understand

"II thought it would be easier for you never to know," said the son as he lay on the bed. "I amsorry,

now. And I am glad that you know. But I must tell you all about it just the same. I must tell you myself, you

see, so that it will be all clear and straight when Iwhen I go." He turned his eyes to the picture on the wall.

Howard laid a hand upon the gray head. "Poor father; yes, I am going. It was an accident, but it was a

kindness. It will be much better that wayonlyonly I am sorry for you, father. I thought I could save you

all this. I intended to slip quietly away without your ever knowing, but when Pete said that Dr. Coughlan was

The little doctor came forward. "I am a fool, Howard, an old fool. Blast it all; no business to go poking into

this; no business at all! Daniel would have sent if he had wanted me. Ought to have known. Old native can

give me lessons on being a gentleman every time. Blast it all! What's wrong, Howard? Get hurt? Now I am

"Indeed, Doctor, you did right to come. You will be such a help to father. You will help us both, just as you

have always done. Will you excuse us, father, while Dr. Coughlan looks at this thing here in my side?"

The physician arranged the light so that it shone full upon the man on the bed, then carefully removed the

bandages from an ugly wound in the artist's side. Dr. Coughlan looked very grave. "When did this happen,

"II can't tell exactly. You see I thought at first I could get along with Pete to help, and I did, for a week, I

guess. Then thingsdidn't go so well. Some fever, I think, for sheshe came." He turned his eyes toward

the picture again. "And II lost all track of time. It was the night of the eighteenth. Father will know."

A low exclamation came from the shepherd. "It was youyou who brought the horses to the ranch that

The artist smiled grimly. "The officers saw me, and thought that I was one of the men they wanted. It's

alright, though." The old scholar instinctively lifted his hands and looked at them. He remembered the saddle,

Making a careful examination, the doctor asked more questions. When he had finished and had skilfully

replaced the bandages, the wounded man asked, "What about it, Dr. Coughlan?" The kind hearted physician

jerked out a volley of scientific words and phrases that meant nothing, and busied himself with his medicine

When his patient had taken the medicine, the doctor watched him for a few minutes, and then asked, "Feel

The artist nodded. "Tell me the truth, now, Doctor. I know that I am going. But how long have I? Wait a

minute first. Where's Pete? Come here, my boy." The lad drew near. "Father." Mr. Howitt seated himself on

The physician spoke, "Matter of hours, I would say. Twentyfour, perhaps; not more; not more."

Again the little doctor took refuge behind a broadside of scientific terms before replying, "No; no possible

A groan slipped from the gray bearded lips of the father. The artist turned to the picture and smiled. Pete

"Poor father," said the artist. "One thing more, Doctor; can you keep up my strength for awhile?"

"I am so glad of that because there is much to do before I go. There is so much that must be done first, and I

DURING the latter part of that night and most of the day, it rained; a fine, slow, quiet rain, with no wind to

shake the wet from burdened leaf or blade. But when the old shepherd left the cave by a narrow opening on

the side of the mountain, near Sammy's Lookout, the sky was clear. The mists rolled heavily over the valley,

The old man paused behind the rock and bushes that concealed the mouth of the underground passage. Not a

hundred feet below was the Old Trail; he followed the little path with his eye until it vanished around the

shoulder of Dewey. Along that way he had come into the hills. Then lifting his eyes to the far away lines of

darker blue, his mind looked over the ridge to the world that is on the other side, the world from which he had

He started as the sharp ring of a horse's iron shoe on the flint rocks came from beyond the Lookout, and,

safely hidden, be saw a neighbor round the hill and pass on his way to the store on Roark. He watched, as

horse and rider followed the Old Trail around the rim of the Hollow; watched, until they passed from sight in

the belt of timber. Then his eyes were fixed on a fine thread of smoke that curled above the trees on the

Matthews place; and, leaving the shelter of rock and bush, he walked along the Old Trail toward the big log

Below him, on his left, Mutton Hollow lay submerged in the drifting mists, with only a faint line of light

breaking now and then where Lost Creek made its way; and on the other side Compton Ridge lifted like a

wooded shore from the sea. A black spot in the red west shaped itself into a crow, making his way on easy

wing toward a dead tree on the top of Boulder Bald. The old shepherd walked wearily; the now familiar

objects wore a strange look. It was as though he saw them for the first time, yet had seen them somewhere

before, perhaps in another world. As he went his face was the face of one crushed by shame and grief, made

Supper was just over and Young Matt was on the porch when Mr. Howitt entered the gate. The young fellow

greeted his old friend, and called back into the house, "Here's Dad, Father." As Mr. Matthews came out, Aunt

Mollie and Sammy appeared in the doorway. How like it all was to that other evening.

The mountaineer and the shepherd sat on the front porch, while Young Matt brought the big sorrel and the

brown pony to the gate, and with Sammy rode away. They were going to the Postoffice at the Forks. "Ain't

had no news for a week," said Aunt Mollie, as she brought her chair to join the two men. "And besides,

Sammy needs the ride. There's goin' to be a moon, so it'll be light by the time they start home."

The sound of the horses' feet and the voices of the young people died away in the gray woods. The dusk

thickened in the valley below, and, as the light in the west went out, the three friends saw the clump of pines

Old Matt spoke, "Reckon everything's alright at the ranch, Dad. How's the little doctor? You ought to brung

him up with you." He watched the shepherd's face curiously from under his heavy brows, as he pulled at his

"Tired out trampin' over these hills, I reckon," ventured Aunt Mollie. Mr. Howitt tried to answer with some

commonplace, but his friends could not but note his confusion. Mrs. Matthews continued, "I guess you'll be a

leavin' us pretty soon, now. Well, I ain't a blamin' you; and you've sure been a God's blessin' to us here in the

woods. I don't reckon we're much 'long 'side the fine friends you've got back where you come from in the

city; and wewe can't do nothin' for you, butbut" The good soul could say no more.

"We've often wondered, sir," added Old Matt, "how you've stood it here, an educated man like you. I reckon,

though, there's somethin' deep under it all, keepin' you up; somethin' that ignorant folks, without no

The old scholar could have cried aloud, but he was forced to sit dumb while the other continued, "You're

goin' won't make no difference, though, with what you've done. This neighborhood won't never go back to

what it was before you come. It can't with all you've taught us, and with Sammy stayin' here to keep it up. It'll

Looking up, the shepherd said quietly, "I expect to live here until the end if you will let me. But I fear you

will not want me to stay when you know what I've come to tell you this evening."

The mountaineer straightened his huge form as he returned, "Dad, there ain't nothin' on earth or in hell could

change what we think of you, and we don't want to hear nothin' about you that you don't like to tell us. We

ain't a carin' what sent you to the hills. We're takin' you for what you are. And there ain't nothin' can change

"Not even if it should be the grave under the pine yonder?" asked the other in a low voice.

Old Matt looked at him in a half frightened way, as though, without knowing why, he feared what the

shepherd would say next. Mr. Howitt felt the look and hesitated. He was like one on a desperate mission in

the heart of an enemy's country, feeling his way. Was the strong man's passion really tame? Or was his fury

The old scholar looked away to Dewey Bald for strength. "Mr. Matthews," he said, "you once told me a story.

It was here on this porch when I first came to you. It was a sad tale of a great crime. Tonight I know the

At the strange words, Aunt Mollie's face turned as white as her apron. Old Matt grasped the arms of his chair,

WITH a prayer in his heart for the boy who lay dying in that strange underground chamber, the artist's father

"It is the story, Mr. Matthews, of a man and his only son, the last of their family. With them will perishhas

"From his childhood this man was taught the honored traditions of his people, and, thus trained in pride of

ancestry, grew up to believe that the supreme things of life are what his kind call education, refinement, and

culture. In his shallow egotism, he came to measure all life by the standards of his people.

"It was in keeping with this that the man should enter the pulpit of the church of his ancestors, and it was due

very largely, no doubt, to the same ancestral influence that he became what the world calls a successful

minister of the gospel. But Christianity to him was but little more than culture, and his place in the church

merely an opportunity to add to the honor of his name. Soon after leaving the seminary, he married. The

crowning moment of his life was when his first borna boywas laid in his arms. The second child was a

"For ten years before her death the wife was an invalid. The little girl, too, was never strong, and six months

"You, sir, can understand how the father lavished every care upon his son. The first offspring of the parents'

love, the sole survivor of his home, and the last to bear the name of a family centuries old, he was the only

"The boy was a beautiful child, a delicate, sensitive soul in a body of uncommon physical grace and strength,

and the proud father loved to think of him as the flower of long ages of culture and refinement. The minister,

himself, jealously educated his son, and the two grew to be friends, sir, constant companions. This, also, you

will understandyou and your boy. But with all this the young man did not follow his father in choosing his

Old Matt started from his seat. Aunt Mollie uttered an exclamation. But the shepherd, without pausing,

continued: "When his schooling was completed the boy came into the Ozarks one summer to spend the

season painting. The man had expected to go with his son. For months they had planned the trip together, but

at last something prevented, and the father could not gono, he could not go" The speaker's voice broke;

Presently Mr. Howitt went on. "When the young artist returned to his father, among many sketches of the

mountains, he brought one painting that received instant recognition. The people stood before it in crowds

when it was exhibited in the art gallery; the papers were extravagant in their praise; the artist became famous;

and wealthy patrons came to his studio to sit for their portraits. The picture was of a beautiful girl, standing

At this a wild oath burst from the giant. Springing to his feet, he started toward the speaker. Aunt Mollie

screamed, "Grant, oh Grant! Think what Dad has done for us." The mountaineer paused.

"Mr. Matthews," said the shepherd, in trembling tones, "for my sake, will you not hear me to the end? for my

The big man dropped back heavily into his chair. "Go on," he said. But his voice was as the growl of a beast.

"The boy loved your girl, Mr. Matthews. It was as though he had left his soul in the hills. Night and day he

heard her calling. The more his work was praised, the more his friends talked of honors and planned his

future, the keener was his suffering, and most of all there was the shadow that had come between him and his

father, breaking the old comradeship, and causing them to shun each other; though the father never knew

why. The poor boy grew morose and despondent, giving way at times to spells of the deepest depression. He

tried to lose himself in his work. He fled abroad and lived alone. It seemed a blight had fallen on his soul. The

world called him mad. Many times he planned to take his life, but always the hope of meeting her again

"At last he returned to this country determined to see her at any cost, and, if possible, gain her forgiveness

and his father's consent to their marriage. He came into the hills only to find that the mother of his child had

"Then came the end. The artist disappeared, leaving a long, pitiful letter, saying that before the word reached

his father, he would be dead. The most careful investigation brought nothing but convincing evidence that the

unhappy boy had taken his own life. The artist knew that it would be a thousand times easier for the proud

man to think his son dead than for him to know the truth, and he was right. Mr. Matthews, he was right. I

cannot tell you of the man's suffering, but he found a little comfort in the reflection that such extravagant

praise of his son's work had added to the honor of the family, for the lad's death was held by all to be the

result of a disordered mind. There was not a whisper of wrong doing. His life, they said, was without

reproach, and even his sad mental condition was held to be evidence of his great genius.

"The minister was weak, sir. He knew something of the intellectual side of his religion and the history of his

church, but he knew little, very little, of the God that could sustain him in such a trial. He was shamefully

weak. He tried to run away from his trouble, and, because the papers had made so much of his work as a

preacher, and because of his son's fame, he gave only the first part of his name, thinking thus to get away

"But God was to teach the proud man of culture and religious forms a great lesson, and to that end directed

his steps. He was led here, here, sir, to your home, and youyou told him the story of his son's crime."

The shepherd paused. A hoarse whisper came from the giant in the chair, "Youyou, Dad, yourname

The other threw out his hand, as if to guard himself, and shrank back; "Hush, oh hush! I have no name but the

name by which you know me. The man who bore that name is dead. In all his pride of intellect and position

he died. Your prayers for vengeance were answered, sir. Youyou killed him; killed him as truly as if you

"All! God, no! II must go on. I must tell you how the man you killed staid in the hills and was born again.

There was nothing else for him to do but stay in the hills. With the shame and horror of his boy's disgrace on

his heart, he could not go backback to the city, his friends and his churchto the old life. He knew that he

could not hope to deceive them. He was not skilled in hiding things. Every kind word in praise of himself, or

in praise of his son, would have been keenest torture. He was a coward; he dared not go back. His secret

would have driven him mad, and he would have ended it all as his son had done. His only hope for peace was

to stay here; here on the very spot where the wrong was done, and to do what little he could to atone for the

"At first it was terrible; the long, lonely nights with no human friend near; the weight of shame; the

memories; and the lonely windalways the windin the treesher voice, Pete said, calling for him to

"But God is good, Mr. Matthews. God is good and merciful. Every day out on the range with the sheep, the

man felt the spirit of the hills, and little by little their strength and their peace entered into his life. The

minister learned here, sir, what he had not learned in all his theological studies. He learned to know God, the

God of these mountains. The hills taught him, and they came at last to stand between him and the trouble

from which he had fled. The nights were no longer weary and long. He was never alone. The voices in the

wilderness became friendly voices, for he learned their speech, and the poor girl ceased to call in the wailing

Again the shepherd stopped. He could not go on. The light was gone from the sky and he felt the blackness of

the night. But against the stars he could still see the crown of the mountain where his son lay. When he had

gathered strength, he continued, saying simply, "Dr. Coughlan came, andlast night we learned that my son

Again that growl like the growl of a wild beast came from the mountaineer. Silently Mr. Howitt prayed. "Go

In halting, broken words, the shepherd faltered through the rest of his story as he told how, while using the

cabin under the cliff as a studio, the artist had discovered the passage to the old Dewey cave; how, since his

supposed death, he had spent the summers at the scene of his former happiness; how he had met his son

roaming the hills at night, and had been able to have the boy with him much of the time; how he had been

wounded the night Jim Lane was killed; and finally how Pete had led them to his bedside.

"He is dying yonder. Dr. Coughlan is with himand PetePete is there, too. II came for you. He is

calling for you. I came to tell you. All that a man may suffer here, he has suffered, sir. Your prayer has been

doubly answered, Mr. Matthews. Both father and son are dead. The namethe old name is perished from the

face of the earth. For Christ's dear sake, forgive my boy, and let him go. For my sake, sir, II can bear no

Who but He that looketh upon the heart of man could know the battle that was fought in the soul of that giant

of the hills? He uttered no sound. He sat in his seat as if made of stone; save once, when he walked to the end

of the porch to stand with clenched hands and passion shaken frame, facing the dark clump of pines on the

Slowly the moon climbed over the ridge and lighted the scene. The mountaineer returned to his chair. All at

once he raised his head, and, leaning forward, looked long and earnestly at the old shepherd, where he sat

From down the mill road came voices and the sound of horses' feet. Old Matt started, turning his head a

"The children," said Aunt Mollie softly. "The children. Grant, Oh, Grant! Sammy and our boy."

Then the shepherd felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and a voice, that had in it something new and strange,

said, "Dad,my brother,Daniel, II ain't got no education, an' Idon't know rightly how to say itbut,

Daniel, what these hills have been to you, youyou have been to me. It's sure God's way, Daniel.

FIXthelight, as it wasplease? That'sit. Thank you, Doctor. How beautiful she ishow beautiful!"

He seemed to gather strength, and looked carefully into the face of each member of the little group about the

bed; the shepherd, Old Matt, Aunt Mollie, Pete, and the physician. Then he turned his eyes back to the

painting. To the watchers, the girl in the picture, holding her brimming cup, seemed to smile back again.

"I loved herI lovedher. She was my natural matemy other self. I belonged to hershe to me. II

can't tell you of that summerwhen we were togetheralone in the hillsthe beautiful hillsaway from

the sham and the ugliness of the world that men have made. The beauty and inspiration of it all I put into my

pictures, and I knew because of that they were goodI knew they would win a place for meandthey

did. Most of allI put it there," (He pointed to the painting on the wall) "and the crowd saw it and felt it, and

did not know what it was. But I knewI knewall the time, I knew. Oh!if that short summer could have

been lengthenedinto years, what might I not have done? Oh, God! That mencan beso blindso

For a time he lay exhausted, his face still turned toward the picture, but with eyes closed as though he

dreamed. Then suddenly, he started up again, raising himself on his elbows, his eyes opened wide, and on his

And this way runs the trail that follows the lower level, where those who travel, as they go, look always over

their shoulders with eyes of dread, and the gloomy shadows gather long before the day is done.

THEY buried the artist in the cave as he had directed, close under the wall on the ledge above the ca�on, with

no stone or mark of any sort to fix the place. The old mine which he had discovered was reached by one of

the side passages far below in the depth of the mountain. The grave would never be disturbed.

For two weeks longer, Dr. Coughlan staid with his friend; out on the hills with him all day, helping to cook

their meals at the ranch, or sitting on the porch at the Matthews place when the day was gone. When the time

finally came that he must go, the little physician said, as he grasped the shepherd's hand, "You're doing just

right, Daniel; just right. Always did; always did. Blast it all! I would stay, too, but what would Sarah and the

girls do? I'll come again next spring, Daniel, sure, sure, if I'm alive. Don't worry, no one will ever know. Blast

it all! I don't like to leave you, Daniel. Don't like it at all. But you are right, right, Daniel."

The old scholar stood in the doorway of his cabin to watch the wagon as it disappeared in the forest. He heard

it rattle across the creek bottom below the ruined cabin under the bluff. He waited until from away up on

Compton Ridge the sound of wheels came to him on the breeze that slipped down the mountain side. Still he

waited, listening, listening, until there were only the voices of the forest and the bleating of the sheep in the

corral. Slipping a book in his pocket, and taking a luncheon for himself and Pete he opened the corral gate

All that summer Pete was the shepherd's constant companion. At first he seemed not to understand.

Frequently he would start off suddenly for the cave, only to return after a time, with that look of trouble upon

his delicate face. Mr. Howitt tried to help the boy, and he appeared gradually to realize in part. Once he

The boy was lying on his back on the grassy hillside watching the clouds. He pointed upward, "There, where

The other looked long at the lad before answering quietly, "Dad does not know when he will go. But he is

"Pete says better not wait long, Dad; 'cause Pete he's a goin' an' course when he goes I've got to go 'long. Do

you reckon Dad can see Pete when he is up there in them white hills? Some folks used to laugh at Pete when

he told about the white hills, the flower things, the sky things, an' the moonlight things that play in the mists.

An' once a fellow called Pete a fool, an' Young Matt he whipped him awful. But folks wasn't really to blame,

'cause they couldn't see 'em. That's what he said. An' he knew, 'cause he could see 'em too. But Aunt Mollie,

an' Uncle Matt, an' you all, they don't never laugh. They just say, 'Pete knows.' But they couldn't see the

The summer passed, and, when the blue gray haze took on the purple touch and all the woods and hills were

dressed with cloth of gold, Pete went from the world in which he had never really belonged, nor had been at

"Here and there among men, there are those who pause in the hurried rush to listen to the call of a life that is

more real. How often have we seen them, David, jostled and ridiculed by their fellows, pushed aside and

forgotten, as incompetent or unworthy. He who sees and hears too much is cursed for a dreamer, a fanatic, or

a fool, by the mad mob, who, having eyes, see not, ears and hear not, and refuse to understand.

"We build temples and churches, but will not worship in them; we hire spiritual advisers, but refuse to heed

them; we buy bibles, but will not read them; believing in God, we do not fear Him; acknowledging Christ, we

neither follow nor obey Him. Only when we can no longer strive in the battle for earthly honors or material

wealth, do we turn to the unseen but more enduring things of life; and, with ears deafened by the din of

selfish war and cruel violence, and eyes blinded by the glare of passing pomp and folly, we strive to hear and

"Pete knew a world unseen by us, and we, therefore, fancied ourselves wiser than he. The wind in the pines,

the rustle of the leaves, the murmur of the brook, the growl of the thunder, and the voices of the night were all

understood and answered by him. The flowers, the trees, the rocks, the hills, the clouds were to him, not

lifeless things, but living friends, who laughed and wept with him as he was gay or sorrowful.

They laid the boy beside his mother under the pines on the hills; the pines that showed so dark against the sky

when the sun was down behind the ridge. And over his bed the wild vines lovingly wove a coverlid of softest

green, while all his woodland friends gathered about his couch. Forest and hill and flower and cloud sang the

songs he loved. All day the sunlight laid its wealth in bars of gold at his feet, and at night the moonlight

Summer and autumn slipped away; the winter passed; spring came, with all the wonder of the resurrection of

flower and leaf and blade. So peace and quiet came again into the shepherd's life. When no answer to his

letter was received, and the doctor did not return as he had promised, the old man knew that the last link

WHEN Young Matt first knew that Sammy had sent Ollie back to the city with no promise to follow, he took

to the woods, and returned only after miles of tramping over the wildest, roughest part of the country. The big

fellow said no word, but on his face was a look that his father understood, and the old mountaineer felt his

But when Sammy with her books was fully established in the Matthews home, and Young Matt seemed

always, as the weeks went by, to find her reading things that he could not understand, he was made to realize

more fully what her studies with the shepherd meant. He came to feel that she had already crossed the

threshold into that world where Mr. Howitt lived. And, thinking that he himself could never enter, he grew

With the quickness that was so marked in her character, Sammy grasped the meaning of his trouble almost

before Young Matt himself knew fully what it was. Then the girl, with much care and tact, set about helping

All through the summer and fall, when the day's work was done, or on a Sunday afternoon, they were

together, and gradually the woods and the hills, with all the wild life that is in them, began to have for the

young man a new meaning; or, rather, he learned little by little to read the message that lay on the open

pages; first a word here and there, then sentences, then paragraphs, and soon he was reading alone, as he

tramped the hills for stray stock, or worked in the mountain field. The idle days of winter and the long

evenings were spent in reading aloud from the books that had come to mean most to her.

So she led him on slowly, along the way that her teacher had pointed out to her, but always as they went, he

saw her going before, far ahead, and he knew that in the things that men call education, he could never hope

to stand by her side. But he was beginning to ask, are there not after all things that lie still deeper in life than

Often he would go to his old friend in the Hollow with some thought, and the shepherd, seeing how it was,

would smile as he helped the lad on his way. The scholar looked forward with confidence to the time when

young Matt would discover for himself, as Sammy had found for herself, that the only common ground

whereon men and women may meet in safety is the ground of their manhood and womanhood.

And so it was, on that spring morning when the young giant felt the red life throbbing strongly in his great

limbs, as he followed his team to and fro across the field. And in his voice, as he shouted to his horses at the

end of the furrow, there was something under the words, something of a longing, something also of a

Sammy was going to spend the day with her friends on Jake Creek. She had not been to see Mandy since the

night of her father's death. As she went, she stopped at the lower end of the field to shout a merry word to the

man with the plow, and it was sometime later when the big fellow again started his team. The challenge in his

Sammy returned that afternoon in time for the evening meal, and Aunt Mollie thought, as the girl came up the

walk, that the young woman had never looked so beautiful. "Why, honey," she said, "you're just a bubblin'

over with life. Your cheeks are as rosy; your eyes are as sparklin', you're fairly shinin' all over. Your ride sure

The young woman replied with a hug that made her admirer gasp. "Law, child; you're strong as a young

The girl laughed. "I hope I don't impress everybody that way, Aunt Mollie. I don't believe I want to be like a

"Like you, just like you; the best, the very best woman in the whole world, because you've got the best and

biggest heart." She looked back over her shoulder laughing, as she ran into the house.

When Young Matt came in from the field, Sammy went out to the barn, while he unharnessed his team. "Are

The big fellow smiled, "Tired? Me tired? Where do you want to go? Haven't you ridden enough today? I

"Tired? Me tired?" said the girl. "I don't want to ride. I want to walk. It's such a lovely evening, and there's

going to be a moon. I have been thinking all day that I would like to walk over home after supper, if you

That night the work within the house and the chores about the barn were finished in a remarkably short time.

The young man and woman started down the Old Trail like two school children, while the father and mother

The girl went first along the little path, moving with that light, sure step that belongs only to perfect health,

the health of the woods and hills. The man followed, walking with the same sure, easy step; strength and

power revealed in every movement of his body. Two splendid creatures they weremasterpieces of the

Creator's handiwork; made by Him who created man, male and female, and bade them have dominion "over

In the belt of timber, where the trail to the ranch branches off, they met the shepherd on his way to the house

for an evening visit. The old man paused only long enough to greet them, and pushed on up the hill, for he

Sammy had grown very quiet when they rounded the shoulder of Dewey, and they went in silence down to

the cabin on the southern slope of the mountain. The girl asked Young Matt to wait for her at the gate, and,

A short time she remained in the familiar rooms, then, slipping out through the rear door, ran through the

woods to the little glen back of the house. Dropping beside the mound she buried her face in the cool grass, as

she whispered, "Oh, Daddy, Daddy Jim! I wish you were here tonight; this night that means so much to me.

Do you know how happy I am, Daddy? Do you know, I wonder?" The twilight deepened, "I must go now,

Daddy; I must go to him. You told me you would trust me anywhere with him. He is waiting for me, now;

Quickly she made her way back to the cabin, passed through the house, and rejoined Young Matt. The two

returned silently up the mountain side, to the higher levels, where the light still lingered, though the sun was

"We'll wait for the moon, here," she said; and so seated on a big rock, they watched the last of the evening go

out from the west. From forest depth and mountain side came the myriad voices of Nature's chorus, blending

softly in the evening hymn; and, rising clear above the low breathed tones, yet in perfect harmony, came a

whippoorwill's plaintive call floating up from the darkness below; the sweet cooing of a wooddove in a

tree on the ridge, and the chirping of a cricket in a nearby crevice of the ledge. Like shadowy spirits, the bats

flitted here and there in the gathering gloom. The two on the mountain's shoulder felt themselves alone above

Then the moon looked over the mountain behind them turning Mutton Hollow into a wondrous sea of misty

light out of which the higher hills lifted their heads like fairy islands. The girl spoke, "Come, Matt; we must

He slipped from his seat and stood beside the rock with uplifted arms. Sammy leaned forward and placed her

hands upon his shoulders. He felt her breath upon his forehead. The next instant he held her close.

So they went home along the trail that is nobody knows how old, and the narrow path that was made by those

Dad Howitt, returning to the ranch, saw them coming so in the moonlight, and slipped aside from the path

into the deeper shadows. As they passed, the old shepherd, scholar and poet stood with bowed, uncovered

head. When they were gone and their low voices were no longer heard, he said aloud, "What God hath joined;

And this way runs the trail that lies along the higher, sunlit hills where those who journey see afar and the

A WANDERING artist, searching for new fields, found his way into the Ozark country. One day, as he

painted in the hills, a flock of sheep came over the ridge through a low gap, and worked slowly along the

mountain side. A few moments later, the worker at the easel lifted his eyes from the canvas to find himself

"Hello, uncle. Fine day," said the artist shortly, his eyes again upon his picture.

"The God of these hills gives us many such, young sir, and all His days are good."

The painter's hand paused between palette and canvas, and his face was turned toward the speaker in wonder.

Every word was perfect in accent of the highest culture, and the deep musical tone of the voice was

remarkable in one with the speaker's snowy hair and beard. The young man arose to his feet. "I beg your

pardon, sir. I thought" He hesitated, as he again took in the rude dress of the other. The brown eyes, under

their white shaggy brows, lighted with good nature. "You mean, young sir, that you did not think. 'Tis the

privilege of youth; make the most of it. Very soon old age will rob you of your freedom, and force you to

think, whether you will or no. Your greeting under the circumstance is surely excusable. It is I who should

beg pardon, for I have interrupted your study, and I have no excuse; neither my youth nor my occupation will

The charm of his voice and manner were irresistible. The painter stepped forward with outstretched hand,

"Indeed, sir; I am delighted to meet you. I am here for the summer from Chicago. My camp is over there."

The other grasped the offered hand cordially, "I am Daniel Howitt, young sir; from the sheep ranch in Mutton

Hollow. Dad Howitt, the people call me. So you see you were not far wrong when you hailed me 'Uncle.'

Both men laughed, and the painter offered his folding easel chair. "Thank you, no. Here is a couch to which I

am more accustomed. I will rest here, if you please." The old man stretched himself upon the grassy slope.

"Do you like my hills?" he asked. "But I am sure you do," he added, as his eye dwelt fondly upon the

"No, no, young sir," the old man interrupted, laughing again. "Others pay the taxes; these hills belong to me

only as they belong to all who have the grace to love them. They will give you great treasure, that you may

give again to others, who have not your good strength to escape from the things that men make and do in the

restless world over there. One of your noble craft could scarcely fail to find the good things God has written

on this page of His great book. Your brothers need the truths that you will read here; unless the world has

"I was a native of that world yonder, young sir. Before your day, they knew me; but long since, they have

forgotten. When I died there, I was born again in these mountains. And so," he finished with a smile, "I am,

as you see, a native. It is long now since I met one from beyond the ridges. I will not likely meet another."

"I wonder that others have not discovered the real beauty of the Ozarks," remarked the painter.

The old shepherd answered softly, "One did." Then rising to his feet and pointing to Roark valley, he said,

"Before many years a railroad will find its way yonder. Then many will come, and the beautiful hills that

have been my strength and peace will become the haunt of careless idlers and a place of revelry. I am glad

"More often than will be good for your picture, I fear. You must work hard, young sir, while the book of God

is still open, and God's message is easily read. When the outside world comes, men will turn the page, and

After that they met often, and one day the old man led the artist to where a big house looked down upon a

ridge encircled valley. Though built of logs without, the house within was finished and furnished in excellent

taste. To his surprise, the painter found one room lined with shelves, and upon the shelves the best things that

men have written for their fellows. In another room was a piano. The floors were covered with rugs.

Draperies and hangings softened the atmosphere; and the walls were hung with pictures; not many, but good

and true; pictures that had power over those who looked upon them. The largest painting hung in the library

"My daughter, Mrs. Matthews," said the old shepherd, as he presented the stranger to the mistress of the

house. In all his search for beauty, never had the artist looked upon such a form and such a face. It was a

marvelous blending of the physical with the intellectual and spiritual. A firm step was heard on the porch.

"My husband," said the lady. And the stranger rose to greetthe woman's mate. The children of this father

and mother were like them; or, as the visitor afterwards said in his extravagant way, "like young gods for

The next summer the painter went again to the Ozarks. Even as he was greeted by the strong master of the

hills and his charming wife, there fell upon his ears a dull report as of distant cannon; then another, and

another. They led him across the yard, and there to the north on the other side of Roark, men were tearing up

the mountain to make way for the railroad. As they looked, another blast sent the rocks flying, while the

The artist turned to his friends with questioning eyes; "Mr. Howitt said it would come. Is heis he well?"

Mrs. Matthews answered softly, "Dad left us while the surveyors were at work. He sleeps yonder." She

Then they went into the library, where the large picture was unveiled. When the artist saw it, he exclaimed,