THE BOY FROM HOLLOW HUT

[Illustration: "I kin kill rabbits if I can't do nothin' else"]

The Boy From Hollow Hut

A STORY OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS

By ISLA MAY MULLINS

Illustrated

New York Chicago Toronto

Fleming H. Revell Company

London and Edinburgh

Copyright, 1911, by

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY

New York: 158 Fifth Avenue

Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. 

London: 21 Paternoster Square

Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street

To MRS. J. B. MARVIN

Whose unceasing devotion to the cause of education in themountains of Kentucky inspired this little story

CONTENTS

 I. A STRANGER AND A PROMISE 11 II. A PACKAGE BY MAIL 24 III. IN THE WILDERNESS 36 IV. A HALT ON THE ROAD 44 V. A DOUBLE RESCUE 57 VI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 72 VII. A TRIP TO THE CITY 78 VIII. OPPORTUNITY 91 IX. A STARTLING APPEARANCE 98 X. STEVE DEVELOPS A MIND OF HIS OWN 111 XI. EXPERIENCE 129 XII. LOVE'S AWAKENING 149 XIII. OLD TIES RENEWED 160 XIV. "ALL RIGHT, SON" 180 XV. FLICKERING HOPE 190 XVI. IN THE CRUCIBLE 198 XVII. FRUITION 204

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "I kin kill rabbits if I can't do nothin' else" _Frontispiece_ The Old Greely Mill 70 "Hit's Champ fer his pappy" 142 "Tilda pacing back and forth at her spinning-wheel" 174

THE BOY FROM HOLLOW HUT

I

A STRANGER AND A PROMISE

The rabbit bounded away and was lost in the underbrush. Steve stoodlooking disgustedly after him, a limp figure, one shoulder droppinguntil the old knit suspender fell at his side, and a sullen, discouraged look settling in his brown eyes. 

"I ain' no hunter noways. Peers lack I don't even know 'nough to ketcha rabbit, " he said with scorn. "Whar's that lazy Tige anyways?" headded, his scorn merging into wrath. 

Then jerking the old suspender in place he straightened up on hissturdy, bare feet, and darted through the underbrush in the directionwhere the rabbit had disappeared. 

"I'll ketch you yit, yes I will, you same old cottontail, " he mutteredthrough clenched teeth. 

There it was again! Just a moment the round, gray back darted abovethe bushes, and then plunging into deeper undergrowth, bounded on andon. But the slim, knotty brown legs plunged on and on too, till atlast a swift, cruel stone felled the unlucky little woodlander, forSteve was a most skillful marksman. 

"Huh! thought you'd git away from me, did ye?" said the boy, pickingup the still body. "I reckons I kin do some things yit, " he said, "efI don't know much. "

The boy was in a strange, new mood. He did not understand himself. Though a good hunter for a lad of twelve he had been heretofore agenerous friend or conqueror of the fur and feathered folk, wont todeal gently with a fallen foe. Now he jerked up the limp body of therabbit savagely and struck its head spitefully against a near-by treetrunk. 

"I kin kill rabbits ef I can't do nothin' else. "

Just then a big black and tan dog came into view with the dignitybefitting age. Boy and dog had been born the same month, but while onewas scarcely well entered upon life, the other's race was almost run. The boy was usually most considerate of the infirmities of hislifelong friend, but to-day he scolded the dog till with drooping tailand grieved, uncomprehending eyes he slunk away out of sight. 

A strange experience had come to the mountain boy the day before whichhad changed his whole world. It was as though the wooded mountainswhich hemmed in his little cabin home had parted for a moment andgiven him a glimpse of a fascinating world beyond. He and Tige hadwandered farther from home that day than ever before, though wanderersthey had always been, the woods holding a deep interest for Steve. Heloved to hide in the densest solitudes, lie still with his dog anddream, fantastic, unreal dreams. Now a definite, tangible vision hadcome to him out of the solitude of a hazy November day in themountains of Kentucky. He had lain for two hours or more in thestillness when suddenly Tige lifted his head and gave a sharp bark, then came the sound of voices, strange voices Steve at once knew themto be, and as he caught the tones more clearly, recognized that one atleast was of a kind which he had never heard before. Keeping Tigequiet with a firm hand, he lifted his head and listened with ear andsoul, then into view stepped a man of medium height with a clean, fineface, clothes of a sort unknown to the boy, and an easy, alert stridetotally foreign to the mountaineer's slouching gait. A mountain manaccompanied him, but he too was a stranger to the boy. 

The man of the new, strange species smiled at the boy's gaping mouthand wonder-wide eyes. 

"Well, son, " he said pleasantly, "are you a sportsman too?"

The quick, clear, cultured voice, the unfamiliar accent was so utterlyforeign to anything the boy had ever heard that he could not take inthe import of the words, and amazed silence was his only reply. 

"Wal, " drawled the mountain guide, "who'd er thought er seein' a chaplack that heah? Whar'd you come from anyways?"

This was familiar vernacular, and Steve, rising slowly from theground, and allowing Tige to make friendly acquaintance with thestrangers, said:

"I lives at Hollow Hut and I comes over here whenever I pleases. Whar'd you uns come from?"

The man gave a hearty but musical laugh at the ready dignity of thereply, but the boy's mouth dropped once more in consternation, aswords came again in crisp, foreign accent. 

"I came from the city, my lad, to get some of your fine quail anddeer. You are willing I should have a few, are you not? My friend hereis showing me the way. "

The mountain folk had proved a most entertaining study for thissportsman, and his interest was ready for each new specimenencountered. Turning to the guide he said:

"Suppose we lunch here, " and taking out his watch continued, "yes, itis high time; twelve thirty to the minute. "

The boy stepped forward involuntarily for a look at the queer, prettything in the man's hand. 

"What's that?" he asked. 

"Why, that's a watch, son. Didn't you ever see one?" said the mankindly. 

The guide smiled derisively: "Wal, I reckons not, " while the boy, toointerested for reply, asked again:

"What's a watch?" and the man with his genial laugh said:

"Son, we will be greatly pleased if you will take lunch with us. Myname is Polk, Samuel Polk, " he said, touching his cap with theunfailing courtesy of a true gentleman. "And after we eat I will showyou the watch and tell you all about it. "

But the mountaineer does not readily eat with "furriners, " so Stevestood near by and looked on while the two men ate very strange things. Little cans were opened and tiny fish taken out that lookedexceedingly queer. Mr. Polk, trying to persuade the boy to eat, explained that these were sardines, some square, white things werecrackers, a thick stuff was cheese and that some big, round, yellowthings were oranges. But Steve only stared in silence till the mealwas over though Tige, with no instinctive handicap, accepted deliciousscraps with astonishment and relish. 

So amazed, however, had the boy been with it all that he nearlyforgot about the watch. But when he remembered and the man let himtake it in his rusty, brown fingers, that was the most wonderfulmoment of all. The tick, tick inside was a marvel, almost a thinguncanny to the boy, and when it was explained how the hands went roundand round, telling the time of day, it surely seemed a thing beyondmortal ken. 

The guide drawled out with a superior air: "Wal, sonny, you come fromthe backwoods shore ef you never heerd tell of a watch before. "

The boy looked squarely at him in sullen resentment a moment, but withsuch opportunity at hand he wouldn't waste time with the likes of him. He asked, "What moves them things round?" and the man kindly openedthe watch at the back and displayed all the cunning wheels whichrespond to the loosening spring, explained how it was wound each dayto keep it from running down, and in answer to the boy's eagerquestions as to how such things were made told him something of watchmanufacture. 

At last the wonderful hour was over and the two strange men preparedto leave. 

"Good-bye, son, " said the man; "one of these days you will leave themountains and go out into the big world to live a life of usefulnessand honour, I hope. "

The words, so simple and commonplace to the man, were to the boy likea telescope lifted to the unknown heavens, but through which he couldnot yet look. He watched the men go down the mountainside, the strangewords which he did not comprehend, but was never to forget, ringing inhis ears. A bit of heavy timber hid them at last, and the boy stooddejected a moment, his heart swelling with an agony of strangelonging, while the dog looked up at him almost pleading to understand. Then suddenly, with a cry of hope, Steve sprang after them, the dogfollowing. Breathless he came upon them, and the man turned insurprise at the tragic voice and face. When the boy could speak hepanted out:

"I've got the bes' fox skin anywheres hereabout. I'll swap it with youuns fer that watch thing. "

The man suppressed a smile and kindly replied:

"Why, lad, I couldn't do without it for the rest of this hunting trip, but I tell you what I will do. When I get back to the city I'll sendyou one. "

"Then ef yer'll come home with me I'll give ye the fox skin now, " theboy responded promptly. 

"Oh, never mind about the fox skin now; I must get back to camp beforedark and we are many miles away, " said the man. 

"But I can't take the watch 'thout you git the skin, " said the boysturdily. 

"Well, now, I'll tell you, " said the man, realizing that he had struckthe stubborn, independent pride of a mountaineer. "You give me yourname, tell me where you live and I'll send you the watch; then nexttime I'm over here I'll get the skin. " The address was a difficultmatter to determine, but the mountaineer helped them out. 

This satisfied the boy and he saw the two strangers depart with betterspirit, since he could look forward to the coming of the watch. He didnot understand how it would ever reach him, but trusted the strangerimplicitly. When the last sound of departing feet among the underbrushhad died away, Steve turned and went home with long, rapid strides, the dog recognizing the relief and following with wagging tail. 

He found supper on the table, the savoury bacon and hoe-cake greetinghim from the door. The head of the family, lean, lank and brown, wasalready transporting huge mouthfuls from the tin platter to his mouth;the fat, slovenly daughter sat for a moment to rest and cool her facebefore beginning to eat, while the mother still occupied a chimneycorner, pipe in mouth, for she "hadn't wanted nothin' to eat lately, her stomick seemed off the hooks somehow. " These, with the boy, composed the family, a row of graves out under the trees at the backof the hut filling the long gap between Mirandy, a young woman oftwenty-one, and Steve. The boy sat down, but before he ate thatremarkable tale of his morning experience had to be told. When he wasdone the father said:

"Huh, better let city folks alone; don't have nothin' to do with noneof 'em. "

The boy, feeling the rebuke, then turned to his supper, but when hisfather had gone out to smoke, and Mirandy was in the lane looking forher sweetheart, Steve stole up to his mother's side and stood digginghis toe in the sand hearth. 

"Mammy, " he said at last, "what makes that man diffrunt from we uns?"

The old woman smoked a moment in silence and then said:

"Wal, there's a heap over the mountains what makes him diffrunt, --thingswe ain' never seen ner heern tell on. " She smoked again a puff or two, then added, "I recken schoolin's the most. "

"What's schoolin'?" said the boy. 

"Larnin' things, " she replied. 

The subject of schools had never been discussed in the boy's hearing. His father didn't believe in them, there wasn't a book, not even aBible, in all the scattered little remote mountain community, and ifthe boy had ever heard either books or schools mentioned before thewords had made no impression on him. 

"Do they larn to make watch things thar?" he asked. 

His mother said she supposed so, "she knew they larned out o' thingsthey called books, " and then she explained as best she could to himwhat schools and books were. When his father came in again Steve saidboldly:

"Pappy, I'm er goin' over the mountains an' larn how to make themwatch things. "

The mountaineer stood as if paralyzed a moment, then his dull eyesblazed. 

"No, you won't nuther! Not a step will ye go! Ye shan't nuver hevnothin' to do with no city folks, so help me God!"

The boy dropped back cowed and trembling; he had never seen his fatherso stirred. He didn't dare ask a question, but when the mountaineerhad seated himself in the chimney corner opposite his wife, hecontinued:

"City folks with all their larnin', fine clothes an' fine ways ain'tto be depended on. I wouldn't trus' one of 'em with a jay bird lessenI wanted to git shed of it. Don't you let me hear no mo' o' your goin'over the mountains arter city folks. "

The prejudice of some mountaineers against the city is deep-seated. They have little use for the "settlements, " meaning the smaller towns, but the city is their abomination. Jim Langly's prejudice was evenstronger than that of the average mountain man of this type, for ithad been a matter of contention between himself and his wife in theearly days of their married life. She had always longed to see whatwas beyond the mountains and besieged him to go till the subject couldno more be mentioned between them. 

Steve soon climbed to his bed in a corner of the room with a veryheavy heart. If city folks weren't to be depended on then he wouldnever get that watch, and all the beautiful visions of learning to dothings in a wonderful new world grew dim and uncertain. So heavy washis heart as he fell asleep that when he waked at daylight, it waswith a terrible sense of loss and grief. The morning meal over hewandered off with Tige, dull and dejected, till the unlucky rabbit hadcrossed his path and stirred strange, resentful enmity towards hislittle familiar contestants of the woods. Sending the dog angrily offhe skinned the rabbit with savage jerks and then carried it at onceback to his home, saying:

"Fry it, 'Randy, fry it dog-goned hard. "

His mother caught the sullen, angry tone, and when Mirandy went outin the kitchen to begin the dinner, she called him from where he saton the door-step. 

"Come here, sonny. "

It was a rare term of endearment, and Steve got up quickly and went toher side. 

"Don't think too much o' whut ye pappy said about city folks. He'sallus hated 'em fer some reason, I don't know whut, 'less hit was'cause I saw one when I was a gal afore we married, nuver min' how nerwhere, and arter that I allus wanted to see whut was over themountings. Ef ever ye git a chanct I want ye ter go thar an' larn terdo things. I'd er done hit ef I'd er been a man. But don't say nothin'to ye pappy. "

This caution was unnecessary; and what a change the simple words madefor Steve! His spirit bounded up into the world of visions again, andwhen dinner was on the table he refused to take a mouthful of thesavoury rabbit, so ashamed was he of the manner of its killing. 

After this his mind was constantly on the watch which was to come. Howit was to reach him he did not think out, for the simple reason thathe knew nothing of the distance which stretched between him and thecity, nor of methods of communication. No letter or piece of mail ofany sort had ever come to his home, or that of any one else of whichhe knew but things of various sorts were gotten from the crossroadsstore ten miles away, skillets and pans, axes and hoes, which weremade somewhere, and he supposed some time when some one of thecommunity went to the store they'd find his watch there. But weekafter week went by till spring came on, and nobody went to the store. The mountain folk indeed had little need of stores. They spun and wovethe cloth for their clothes, raised their corn, pigs, and tobacco, made their own "sweetin', " long and short, meaning sugar and molasses, and distilled their own whiskey. So the boy's heart grew heavy againwith the long delay and he began to think bitterly that his father andnot his mother was right, when one day a stranger whom he had neverseen before drove up to the door. 

II

A PACKAGE BY MAIL

"Howdye! Does airy feller named Stephen Langly live here?" said thestranger, reining in his tired, raw-boned steed without difficulty. 

Mirandy went to the cabin door, stared a minute in surprise and thenshook her head slowly. But Steve pushed past her saying:

"Yes, thar is, too. I'm Stephen Langly. "

"You! Sakes erlive, I clean forgot that was yo' name!" and his sisterlaughed lazily, while the stranger joined in. 

"Wal, you're a powerful little chap to be a-gittin' mail. But thishere thing has yo' name on it, they tole me at the store, an' so Ibrung it along as I was a-comin' this-a-way. Hit's been thar mo' thanthree months they tole me. "

Steve took the package, his hands trembling with eagerness and wouldhave darted away to the woods with his treasure where he might lookupon it first alone, but Mirandy stormed when he turned to go, and theman said:

"'Pears to me you mought show what ye got, when I brung it all thislong ways to ye. "

That did seem the fair thing to do, so when they had asked the man to"light and hitch, " Steve sat down on the door-step and removed thewrappings from the square box; there was tissue paper first, a miracleof daintiness which the boy had never beheld before, and at last thewatch came to view. Steve lifted it in trembling fingers, and whileMirandy and the man expressed their admiration his first quiveringwords were:

"That other one was yaller. "

"Wal, now, " said Mirandy, "that one was gold; you couldn't expect thatman to send you no gold. "

Mirandy, having a precious gilded trinket, was better posted on thecolour and value of metals than Steve, though she made a slight errorin her next statement. 

"This hern is silver; that's the next thing to gold, " and the brightnickel of the Waterbury twinkled in the spring sunshine as thoughtrying to measure up to its admirers' estimate. 

"A silver watch, " said the stranger after he had heard the story ofthat autumn day with its promise of a watch which was just nowfulfilled--"wal, you air a lucky boy, shore. "

Mrs. Langly called feebly from within, and Steve went and laid it onthe bed beside her. Her "stomick had never seemed to get on thehooks, " as she expressed it, all winter; her spinning-wheel and loomhad been long silent, and for a few days she had not left her bed. 

Her eyes gleamed with strange, new fire as they fell upon the shiningthing which belonged to another world from theirs, and when Steve hadlaboriously wound it, which he had not forgotten how to do, settingthe wonderful machinery running, she whispered to him:

"Remember you air goin' whar you kin larn to make things lack that. "

Steve's shining eyes answered hers, though the boy failed to catch thelight of prophecy and final benediction which they held. Hugging histreasure, with no hint of oncoming change he went out to feed thestranger's horse while Mirandy prepared the dinner. 

It was not until the visitor had gone and Steve was in the solitude ofthe woods with Tige that he found fullest joy in his new possession. It seemed to him he could never in all his life take his eyes from itagain. He watched the hands go round and round, the little flyingsecond hand, the more leisurely minute marker and the creeping handwhich told the hours as they passed. Then again and again the backwas opened and the busy little wheels held his breathless interest. Hetook no notice of Tige, but the old dog knew that his mate was happyand lay content beside him. Although for the first time in possessionof a noter of the hours, he lost all account of time and did not movefrom the mossy bed where he had thrown himself until it was too lateto see either hands or wheels. Then he called Tige to come and hurriedback to his home to sit by the cabin firelight till Mirandy made himgo to bed. The family all slept in the same room, three beds occupyingcorners; this main room and the lean-to kitchen constituting the wholehouse. 

Steve's watch never left his hand the long night through, and for thefirst time in his uneventful life he slept fitfully, waking everylittle while to make sure it was there. 

Jim Langly was away for a few days "to a logrolling" several milesaway and did not return until dusk of the evening after Steve's watchcame. The boy sat again by the firelight, watch in hand, when Jimwalked in at the door. His eyes fell at once upon the strange, shiningthing and his face was convulsed with sudden wrath:

"Didn't I tell ye to have nothin' to do with city folks? Ye shan'tkeep that thing. I'll smash it, so he'p me God!" But before he couldlift a hand a scream came from the bed, and Mrs. Langly sat up wildand dishevelled. 

"Let him hev it, Jim Langly, let him hev it, " and then she droppedback gray and still. Jim Langly had seen that gray stillness before, and he stood looking upon it now in dumb terror. His wife had beenailing a long time, it was true, yet no one had thought of death. Butthe grim visitor was there in all his quiet majesty. The weary spirit, which had for so many years longed for flight into new haunts of men, had winged its way at last to a far, mysterious country of which shehad heard little, but towards which for months past she had beenreaching out with a strange prescience of which no one guessed. 

It was a dreary night at the cabin. No one tried to sleep. Jim Langlysaid no more to Steve about the watch, and the boy wore it in hisbosom attached to a stout string about his neck, keeping it out ofsight, and sobbing in the stillness of the woods as he wandered withTige, "Mammy wanted me to have it. " And though his joy in it for thetime was gone, there was peculiar comfort in this thought of herapproval. The old dog looked up in the boy's face from time to timepitifully, or stuck his nose in the lad's hand, knowing well, in a waydogs have, what had happened. 

Next day the wife and mother was laid to rest beside the row of littlegraves, and life completely changed for Steve. He went to bed as usualin his corner of the room, but he could not forget the still formwhich had lain in another corner the night before, and while Mirandyand his father slept heavily, he slipped from the bed, took a blanketand with Tige at his heels went into the woods again. Here in thestillness which he loved, worn out with loss of sleep and his firstencounter with grief, nestling close to old Tige slumber came and heldhim until late the next day. His father and Mirandy paid littleattention to what he did, so night after night he took his blanket anddog and slept in the woods, the two only going to the cabin formeals. 

During all these strange, restless days the words of Steve's mothercame to him over and over: "Remember you air goin' whar you kin larnto make things lack that watch. " And he thought, "How am I a-goin'lessen I jes' go?" He knew his father would never give him permission, it was not worth while to ask it, so gradually his plans took shape inthe solitude of the woods with no one to counsel. Had the boy knownwhat distance lay between him and his goal he would have grownfaint-hearted, but he had no conception of what his undertaking meant. So he laid his plans with good courage, which plans, of course, included the taking of his dog. For three or four days Steve took anextra share of corn pone and bacon, Mirandy not noticing in hershiftless manner of providing, and feeling the loss of her mother, shewas even more listless than usual. These extra rations for himself andTige Steve carried to the woods and laid away. Then his beloved foxskin, the greatest treasure which he possessed beside the watch, hemust take that with him, because it was "the man's"; he had promisedit in return for the watch, and now that he was going he must take italong to give to the man. The boy had no thought of any difficulty insuch a search. The food, the skin, the watch, and the scanty clotheshe wore constituted all his equipment for the journey. When he startedout with the skin Mirandy lazily asked what he was going to do withit, and he replied: "Use it fer a piller in the woods. "

"Ye better quit sleepin' out thar, " she said; "somethin' 'll eat ye upsome night. "

"I ain't a-feerd, " he said, and she thought no more about it. 

Three days passed with a good accumulation of food, and as Steve andTige lay down to sleep at night the boy said:

"Tige, we've gotter be a-goin' 'bout day arter ter-morrer, " and thedog wagged sleepy assent. But next morning when Steve wakened apeculiar stillness smote him. Tige was usually alert at his leastmove. With intuitive alarm Steve put out his hand, --and touched arigid body! Drawing back he sprang to his feet, a cry of anguishedappeal on his lips:

"O Tige, Tige, ye ain't dead too?"

But death makes no reply. His lifelong playmate lay straightened outin that last unalterable, mysterious sleep. 

The boy was too stunned for tears. He knelt beside his dog in silentmisery. After a long while he rose from the ground and going to amoss-covered rock near by where laurel and forget-me-nots blossomedand rhododendron bells hung in clusters, with a stout stick and hissturdy hands he dug beneath the rock an opening large enough to holdhis dead dog. Then he went back to where his old playmate lay, andlifting the stiffened body in his arms he stumbled blindly to the rockand laid it away. 

Towards evening he slowly made his lonely way home. 

Mirandy, missing the dog at last, inquired: "Whar's Tige?" and Steve'sstiff lips articulated the one word, "Dead. "

She replied indifferently, "Wal, he want no 'count any mo'. I reckonshit's a good thing. "

Steve had no answer and with swelling heart made his way to the woodsto sleep alone. It was long before he could sleep, and as he lay inthe unbearable loneliness, he decided that next morning he would starton that journey to the unknown. Perhaps to that new world sorrow wouldnot follow! He would not need so much food now; he had enough savedalready. The death of the dog urged him on to his purpose as nothingelse could have done. 

He went down to the cabin next morning for the last time. It was awarm spring morning. Passing Mirandy sitting on the door-step, herbreakfast dishes not yet washed, he paused a minute, longing to saysomething, for although the bond between them was of blood and not ofthe heart, yet she was part of the life from which he was tearinghimself away, and he longed to sob out a good-bye. But he must not, sochoking down words and tears he stumbled off, never once looking back. His father sat in the chimney corner smoking his morning pipe, butfather and son had always lacked interests in common, and the comingof the watch had put an insurmountable barrier between them. SoSteve's only thought in passing him had been to escape suspicion. Itwas to his mother that the boy had always shyly told his day-dreams inthe woods, --dreams which reached out into a wonder world lying beyondthe mountains. And she had smoked her pipe in silent sympathy, occasionally asking: "Did ye see big houses, rows and rows of 'em onland, and some a-ridin' the water? I've hearn tell of 'em in my day, "so furnishing inspiration for more dreams in the future. 

"O Mammy, O Tige, " sobbed the boy when safe at last in the woods, andhe threw himself down in an agony of weeping beside the rock where theold dog lay buried. When calm at last, he took up his bundle of breadand bacon wrapped about with his fox skin, and started slowly away. Hetook no thought as to direction, he was simply "goin', " as his motherhad told him. A dismal rain soon set in, but on and on he persistentlytramped all the long day, water dripping from his ragged trousers andold hat as he went farther and farther away from all he had everknown. He met no one, saw no habitation anywhere, only the startleddenizens of the wood scurrying here and there out of his path. Overmountains and across ravines he went on and on. He was puzzled anddiscouraged when night dropped down, and his aching feet and tiredlegs said he must have travelled many miles. "Shorely I'll git tharto-morrer, " he said, as he lay down upon his fox skin, but anotherweary day of tramping over unknown ways without sight of any humanbeing brought terror to his sturdy heart and when he lay down alone atnight he felt that he was the only human being in the universe. Oh, ifhe only had Tige!

All the people he had known and those he expected to see beyond themountains seemed to have sunk into some great unseen abyss. He couldnever find his way back to the old cabin, he knew, and he began tofeel that he could never reach forward to the wonderful city of whichhe had dreamed. In the agony of loneliness and the chill of nightwhich settled upon him he cried again, "O Tige, O Mammy!" Did thetender mother-arms reach down and draw her boy near to the heart ofGod? At any rate he grew quiet. He remembered vaguely that he hadheard how God is everywhere, and with a new strange sense ofcompanionship with the great Creator, which comes to souls inextremity, he fell asleep and did not waken until the sun, burstingforth with new brilliance after the day of rain, had lit up themountain tops and set the birds to singing. 

He enjoyed the breakfast of very hard corn pone and bacon, and tookout his beloved watch. The busy, little shining thing, which he neverforgot to wind, did not mean much to him as a marker of time, for heknew little about the hours as enumerated by the watch, but it was onthis morning of new courage a fresh pledge of wonderful thingsawaiting him. He started on again with steady strides, and trampedbravely till mid afternoon without adventure. 

Suddenly, without premonition, his heart thrilled at faint soundswhich seemed marvellously like those of a human voice. He stood stilla moment in an agony of uncertainty, straining eye and ear forconfirmation. 

Yes, he was right! He caught the crackle of dry twigs and underbrush, while the faint human tones grew clear and distinct. Under thediscipline of loneliness and distress the face of the untutored boybeamed with eager welcome which held no reserve and caught nosuspicious glimmer of lurking treachery as near-by bushes parted andsteps were close upon him. 

III

IN THE WILDERNESS

Two men were before him, men very similar in appearance to those Stevehad known, though with something in their faces which made him drawback even in the moment of joy at meeting others of his kind. 

"Sakes erlive, Bub, whar'd ye come from?" called the taller, harderlooking of the two. 

"I come from Hollow Hut, " answered the boy with his simple dignity. 

"And whar you goin' to?" called the other man, while both laughedunpleasantly. 

"Ter the city, " said the boy. 

"Wal, now, that's a pretty nice fox skin ye got rolled up thar, " saidthe tall one as they came closer. "S'pose you jes' hand that over tous. "

"I can't, " said the boy, holding it tighter in real alarm. "I swappedit with a man fer a watch, an' I'm a-takin' it ter him. "

"Is that so!" exclaimed the tall man. "So you've got a watch, hev ye?Who'd a-thought it, "--and they both haw-hawed loudly. "Now, ye canjes' han' that over too, fer we mean bizness, don't we, Bill?"

And with that they pounced upon the terrified boy, jerked the fox skinfrom his clinging fingers and soon brought forth from its hiding-placein his bosom the beautiful, beautiful watch! Steve fought like a smalltiger, but he was no match for them and stunned and bruised he soonlay upon the ground while the two men walked off, never once lookingback at their helpless victim. 

For a few minutes Steve could not think, so severe had been theircruel blows; then indignation, such as he had never known in his life, swept over him in a sudden flood. He sprang to his feet, ignoring painand keenly watching which way they went, stealthily followed after. For two hours he kept within hearing of them, though being carefulalways that they did not get a glimpse of him. He did not know what hewas going to do, but when they finally halted for the night he haltedtoo. The men had also taken the last of his corn pone and bacon; therewas nothing for him to eat, but he did not even think of it, sointently was he listening. Soon they began to sing and laugh veryloudly and he knew then they had plenty of whiskey with them. Hoperose in his heart. After a bit they would fall into heavy sleep. Heknew well the ways of drink. 

Soon all was still, and after waiting a while till the sleep was deephe crept upon them. Fortunately the moon was up in its full glory andSteve could see plainly what he was about. He crept up close to thetwo snoring men and across the feet of the tall one lay his fox skin. 

"I must git that anyways, " said the boy to himself, "for it belongs tothe man in the city. "

Slowly, cautiously he lifted it from the big heavy feet, and there wasnot a stir. Then he stood, his heart almost bursting with longing forhis watch. It was in the big man's pocket he was sure, and he stoopedclose a minute, reaching out a hand, --but he didn't dare. If he wakedthem, skin and watch would both be gone, and he must by all means getthe skin to give to the man in the city. He went sorrowfully away withonly the skin. He didn't dare stop near them, so he tramped half thenight in spite of frequent twinges in his left ankle which had had alittle twist as the men threw him down, and at last the boy droppedupon the ground, utterly exhausted, to sleep until noon next day. 

When he wakened, stiff and sore from the blows of the men, and triedto get upon his feet he found that left ankle so swollen and painfulhe could not put the foot to the ground. He realized for the firsttime also with great consternation that he had nothing to eat. Bruised, sore, empty, helpless he sat alone in the woods. But eventhen he did not know the desolation of the night before. He felt oncemore that comforting sense of companionship with the great Creator, and he faced the situation sturdily. 

He crept about on his knees hunting berries which he knew were good toeat. It was a laborious way to get breakfast, or more properly dinner, but he succeeded in finding enough to still somewhat the gnawing inhis empty stomach, and suddenly as he lifted his head a road laybefore him. With hope that was almost a tranquil certainty he crept tothe roadside and sat down. An hour or more passed with only the calland song of birds to break the stillness, --when, list! There wassurely a rumble of wheels! And then the cry came distinctly, "Git upthar!"

Tears of joy rained down the boy's face as a covered wagon drawn byfour mules came into view, though he sturdily brushed them aside asthe wagon drove up and halted. 

"Hello, thar, " called a lusty youthful voice, and the driver, a youngfellow of perhaps nineteen who was mounted on one of the mules, turnedround and saw at a glance the swollen, helpless foot. 

"Done up, air ye, Bub? Whar do ye belong anyways?"

Steve knew at once that these people were friends, and told them hislittle story. 

"I want to git to the city, so's to give the skin to the man thar an'then I'm goin' to larn to make watches an' things, " he concluded. 

"Wal, you air a long piece from the city, but we uns kin help ye gitto the railroad and that'll take ye to the city. "

Several heads of varying sizes were sticking out of the wagon by thistime, and when Steve had been helped in among the occupants he foundit was a family moving from one little hamlet to another. The husbandand father had recently died and they were going back to theirmother's home to live among her "kin. "

The kindly mother at once bound up Steve's injured foot with white ofegg and salt, which she said would "fetch it round all right, " andhearing the empty rumbles of his poor little stomach she said shedidn't believe "thar was a thing inside of it, " and proceeded to givehim a good square meal. 

Was there ever anything happier than to be driving along the road witha comfortable foot, a full stomach and in the midst of friends! Stevehad never known greater joy than that moment held. They were a"happy-go-lucky" family he had fallen in with, --and for the first timein his life he was in the midst of the merry banter of children. Themountain folk of remote regions lack a sense of humour, and Steve hadgrown up entirely alone, the cabins of Hollow Hut being scattered, sohe sat through the afternoon in a maze of delight. There were snickersand giggles, punching in the ribs and tickling of toes from thesechildren who lived on the border of civilization, for Steve had reallygone blindly towards his goal. 

As they drove gaily along Steve heard a sudden rumbling whichsuggested thunder, the children cried, "The train, the train, " andstopping the mules quickly the big brother who was driving jumpeddown, while three of the children sprang out with a bound and allgrasped the bridles at their heads. It was done so quickly therewasn't time to ask a question and then a monster came tearing, puffing, hissing past them. Steve's eyes almost started from theirsockets and when it was past he sank back limp and quivering. 

"Why, chile, didn't ye nuver see no railroad trains afore?" said thegood mother. 

Steve managed to say, "No, " and then the children told him all theastonishing things about railroads. To his mingled joy and terroranother came along from the opposite direction when they had driven onabout a mile further, and this time it came more slowly, making afull stop near them. 

"Whut air they a-doin' that for?" asked Steve, and when it wasexplained that they had stopped for fuel or water, there being nostation near, a quivering light broke over his face, and rememberinghis watch as his mind tried to grasp new sources of motion, he said:

"They're jes' a-stoppin' to wind hit up, then. "

Very soon after this they came to a cabin by the roadside and all thefamily within poured out to see the strangers. 

"Won't you light and hitch?" drawled the man of the house, but the boydriver refused, saying they wanted "to git to their kin afore night. "He suggested to Steve, however, that if he wanted to go to the city hehad better stop there, for they were going further from any stationthan he would be there. The folks of the cabin were hearty in theirinvitation to the boy when they had heard his story, even the fact ofhis probable helplessness for a while not marring the beauty of theirroyal hospitality. So Steve was carefully lifted out and helped inamong new friends. 

The little cabin was full to overflowing with boys and girls, one girlof fifteen fondling her baby as she would a big doll, in ignorant, unlawful, and one perhaps should say innocent motherhood. She, a waifherself, had come along needing shelter and they had taken her in. 

When Steve had had his supper pallets were spread everywhere about thecabin floor upon which the family went to rest fully clothed, afterthe fashion of mountaineers, and to the boy the night was a greatcontrast from the previous one in the loneliness of the woods. Hethought of his own home as he had never done since he left it, wondering if his father and Mirandy would like to see him, but henever dreamed of how they had searched the woods for miles around whenhe was missed the second day after leaving. His failure to return thefirst day and night they thought little of, for he frequently did notcome back after morning, but the second day's absence had brought realalarm, and when they found his blanket Mirandy said she knew somethinghad killed and eat him up; she had forgotten about the fox skin whichin that case should also have been there. But Jim Langly set his teethgrimly and said the boy had gone off "along o' that watch, " and he didnot cease to make inquiry as he had opportunity, trying to trace hisson, while he angrily threatened to kill that city man if ever he"showed up agin in them parts. "

IV

A HALT ON THE ROAD

Steve spent a week in the crowded but hospitable cabin of his latestfriends resting the swollen foot. It was not seriously sprained andwould have given him no trouble but for the long tramp upon it thenight before and his general fatigue. 

He had an interesting time with this family on the roadside. They wereof the most shiftless type of mountain folk. Life was a long holidayto them, every meal a picnic. There were too many to gather about thetable in the little log lean-to, so the elders only sat down at mealtimes. The children came up shuffling, pushing and squirming goodnaturedly to get their portions and ran away again full-handed to siton the door-step or flat upon the ground outside while they ate. Sometimes one ambitious consumer would succeed in disposing of hisviands more rapidly than the others and then woe to some smalldelinquent! His food would be snatched away and a lively fisticuffprobably follow during which the inevitable "yaller dog" was usuallythe gainer. The disturbance at times reached a height which broughtthe mother lazily to the door with a mild:

"Now ef ye alls don't quit fussin', I'll set the boogers arter yeter-night, " which was a dire and telling threat, for, to the mountainchildren, "boogers" meant ghosts, witches, hobgoblins, thieves, or anyother terrible, mysterious creature of the night. 

Steve went up to the table with the rest for his portion of food, andtook his chances with the other children if a squabble began. Association with the children was most enjoyable to Steve. They toldmarvellous tales about giants and mountain feuds and the mother'sthreat of "boogers" was sure to stir up all their recollections aboutghosts. Wherever there was a "killin'" as the result of a mountainfeud ghosts were sure to congregate and marvellous were the taleswhich clustered about each bloody spot. Steve being a new listenermust hear all these old tragic stories. 

When meals were over, the family disposed themselves to their liking. The head of the house invariably lit his pipe and sat in the chimneycorner to smoke, a custom quite familiar to Steve. The mother washedthe skillet and few utensils used about the meal, smoking her pipe thewhile. The young girl sat down outside in the sun to play with herbaby, the big boys perhaps went off hunting and the children wanderedaimlessly in and out. 

The fields of corn and tobacco had been planted and now there waslittle to do but watch it grow, so they thought. The hogs practicallytook care of themselves. What more could any one demand, a blank lookwould unconsciously have inquired, if asked why they did not work. 

When the day was over and the troop of children began to grow sleepy, one after another dropped down upon the cabin floor, perhaps upon apallet, perhaps not, and fell asleep. The older ones followed in thesame way, as inclination suggested, and room was cheerfully made forSteve among the rest. For a night or two the full chorus of audiblebreathing wakened him frequently, but he soon became accustomed toit. 

In the morning the voice of some child was apt to be heard first:

"Mammy, I'm hongry. "

And the reply would come, "Now you shet up, 'tain't time ter begittin' up yit, " or perhaps the satisfied parent would yawn and say:

"Wal, I reckons I might as well git up and stop ye mouth, " and so thehousehold would gradually emerge from slumber. 

This was the normal daily life, but comedy and tragedy came to themas to the rest of the world, and Steve had a taste of both during hisstay of a week. 

Unlike Hollow Hut it was a somewhat thickly settled community and onemoonlight night some young folks from neighbouring cabins came in. Steve's friends made the visitors welcome and hailed with delight thebanjo which one of them had brought. The young folks were out for afrolic and laugh and joke were ready. 

Pretty soon the banjo began to tune up and set everybody's feet topatting. 

"Clear out things, " called one of the boys, and in no time the fewarticles the room held were out of the way. Then the air vibrated with"Hook and Line, " "Sourwood Mountain, " and other lively tunes, whileeverybody danced except Steve, who crept to the farthest corner and inwonder looked and listened. He had never seen dancing or heard musicbefore. 

The girl with the baby came and dropped it down upon his lap while shejoined in the fun, and it almost seemed that the cabin itself wouldbreak from its moorings in the abandon of rollicking, swaying motion. 

When everybody was tired out the banjo player, a young fellow withdeep-set black eyes and the unmistakable look of an artist in embryo, swung into a monologue accompanied by the banjo, part talk, partsong, describing a fox hunt which was most fascinating and altogetherremarkable. 

He called the hounds with "Here Tige, " "Here Jack, " "Here Spot, " "HereBob-tail, " interspersed with the tooting of a horn, long musicalwhistles and the banjo striking soft staccato chords. He mustered themen, he raced the horses with excited calls of "Git up thar, " and gaveclever imitation of fleeing hoofs, "to-bucket, to-bucket, to-bucket, "in a rapid, low, chanting song. Then the leading hound opened with aplaintive bay "how!-oo-oo-oo, how!-oo-oo-oo, " and one by one theothers joined in with varying notes till it swelled to a weird chorusof baying hounds which the banjo and the musician's voice made mostrealistic. Next the fox was spied and there were cries of "Hello! Ho!Here he is!" "There he runs, " with the banjo thumping like mad! Thenthe medley shaded down into a wild, monotonous drumming from thestrings and the voice, which represented most thrillingly the chase atfull height. At last the fox was caught with dogs barking, mencalling, and banjo shrilling a triumphant strain in stirring climax. 

Steve followed it all in breathless excitement, and the rest of theaudience received it with boisterous enthusiasm. 

After this somebody started the lovely old ballad, "Barbary Allen, " inwhich all joined; then, "I have a True Love in the Army, " and "TheSwapping Song" followed, while "Whistle up your Dogs, Boys, andShoulder your Guns, " made lively the leave-taking and echoed back fromfar down the road. 

Then there was a night of tragedy during Steve's visit. The sleepersof the cabin were suddenly aroused by blood-curdling whoops and yells, gunshots, racing horses and running men. Everybody was instantly alertand the family turned out of the cabin en masse. It was thrilling. Allknew well what it meant. The head of the house and older boys joinedthe fleeing crowd like dogs in a chase. 

"That's Bud Levit's folks and the Cuneys done broke out agin 'boutthat ole fuss, I bet, " drawled the wife and mother, when the tumulthad died down to faint echoes. 

"I reckon thar'll be a big killin' this time, " said one of thechildren with zest. 

"Thar shore was a passle er folks and a pile er shootin', " saidanother enthusiastically. 

"Now, you-alls git back to bed an' shet up, " said the mother, and herbrood gradually quieted down. 

Next day when the man of the house and older boys returned about dark, full of whiskey and full of talk, a most exciting tale was unfoldedto the eager listeners. 

"Hit was the biggest killin' whut's been in these parts fur many erday, " said the man with pride. "I'll tell ye when they did gittogether they fit lack beastes. When ev'ythin' was over thar was fiveon 'em a-layin' in their blood. Three of the Levits an' two of theCuneys. "

"Wal, I hope they'll keep quiet fer a spell now, " commented thewoman. 

Then all the ghastly details were gone over with the childrenlistening eagerly, drinking it in as they would a story of an excitinghunt. When the children discussed it afterwards one little fellow saidto another: "I tell yer what, I'm er goin' ter be a fighter jes' lackthem Levits. I'll shoot 'em down ef anybody comes foolin' round me. "

Steve listened soberly. The experience was not a new one to him, buthe remembered that his "Mammy" had always said she didn't likekillings and that mountain folks ought to "larn better some way. " Thewords came back to the boy with peculiar meaning since the voice whichuttered them was still. He said nothing, but it all made him moreanxious to move on towards that other world of which he and "Mammy"had dreamed. 

The following morning his foot seeming fully restored and clearingweather having come after several days of rain, Steve said "he thoughthe'd move on. "

"Whar ye goin'?" said the man of the house who had paid littleattention to him before. 

"I'm er goin' to the railroad fust, an' then from thar to the city togive the fox skin to the man, an' to larn things. "

"Larn things, " said the man scornfully, not being in the best ofhumour after the previous day's dissipation. "Huh! I s'pose ye'll begoin' to some er them city schools. Ye better go on back whar you comefrom. Schoolin' ain't no good ter anybody. Hit's them schools whutlarns folks to go 'round pesterin' other folks, breakin' up 'stills. 'Folks has got jest as good er right ter make whiskey es anythingelse, " which showed in what he was especially interested. 

Steve made no answer for the man was too forbidding in his irritability, but the boy kept to his determination to press on at once towards therailroad. After breakfast was over he went back to see the woman ofthe house, and in lazy kindness she said she wished she had a littlebread and meat to give him but "there wan't none left, " which Stevewas quite prepared to hear, for there were many mouths to feed andnever any left. 

"I hope ye'll git thar all right. I reckons ye'll git somethin' to eaton the road, and ef ye're ever to come this-a-way agin come an' seeus, " she drawled as she smoked. 

"Ye been mighty good ter me, " said Steve, "an' I ain't nuver goin' terforgit it. "

He passed the children about the door-step, his fox skin under hisarm, and they stood and watched him leave with a sort of sorrowfulsolemnity. Goodbyes are a thing unknown to mountain folk. 

Then he walked off without much thought as to direction, having adefinite impression, however, as to the way he should go, which waspart instinct and partly remembrance of what the boy on the movingwagon had told him. The people he had left were too inert to think ofgiving him any instructions. But down the road he passed the big boysof the house sitting idly by the roadside. They had heard withsatisfaction their father's opinion as to Steve's going in search of"larnin'. " As Steve came in sight one of them nudged the other andsaid, "Less throw him off the scent. "

"Which-a-way ye goin', Bub?" he asked when Steve came up. 

Then for the first time Steve stopped and thought. 

"Why, that-a-way, " he replied pointing. 

The big boys laughed boisterously. "Ye'll nuver git to no railroadgoin' that-a-way. Thar's the way ye want ter go, " said one, pointingoff at a slightly different angle, which made the greatest differencein the boy's ultimate destination. 

Steve looked doubtfully, but when he reflected a moment he rememberedthat he really did not know positively in what direction to go. 

"Is that so?" he inquired looking earnestly at the boys. 

"Hit shore is, " returned both of them. 

"How fur is it?" asked Steve. 

"Oh, 'tain't fur, " said one of the boys; "ye ought ter git thar beforenight easy. You go straight as a crow flies that-a-way, " pointing ashe had before, "and ye'll come to the railroad tracks. Ye can't misshit fer ye're bound to cross 'em, an' ef ye go straight, lack I tellye, ye'll be right at the station. "

The boy on the moving wagon had described the railroad tracks to him, so Steve started off feeling reassured, and it never occurred to himthat any one could be mean enough to misdirect him. It was a pity theechoes from the boisterous laughter of the boys when he was out ofhearing could not have reached the little traveller's ears, but theydid not, and Steve pressed on with good spirits feeling that he wasalmost in sight of his goal with less than a day's journey beforehim. 

He turned at once from the road and went on and on, knowing as well asthe crow how to keep straight with the compass, although like thecrow he had never heard of one. The straight path took him quicklyinto the wilderness, but that did not dismay him as wilderness travelhad become most familiar to him. At noon he began to feel so empty, helonged for just a little piece of corn bread. And then rememberingthat the mother thought he'd get something to eat on the road he beganlooking cheerfully for the smoke of a cabin somewhere. He had beenvaguely disappointed at striking no road anywhere, but he had notasked the boys any particulars as to the route. Everything so far inhis journeying had been unexpected, and the possibilities of routeswere so totally unknown to him that he had started on again, as whenhe left home, unquestioning. 

The empty stomach continued to cry loudly for food as the afternoonwore on, and no cabin smoke gave token of life anywhere. He did notsuffer from thirst for mountain streams and springs were abundant. Hepressed bravely forward, cheering himself with the thought that theboys had said he would come to the tracks before dark. But twilightbegan creeping in among the forest trees and still no tracks were insight. Anxiously he listened for the terrible yet thrilling rush of atrain which he remembered so well. He ought to be in hearing distanceof them by now. But nothing broke the forest stillness save thetwitter and song of birds, the scurrying of rabbits or frisking ofsquirrels with occasionally the sound of some larger animal in theunderbrush. 

Finally night fell with the poor boy straining his anxious eyes forthe shining tracks of which he had heard. He forced his aching limbsalong till suddenly, with a quivering sob, his strength seemed all togo and he sank upon the ground in a pitiful heap. He was too exhaustedto think and in a few moments was sound asleep. 

He lay upon the summit of a rugged mountain, which dropped precipitatelydown just beyond the sleeping boy, to ripple off again in lesserlofty heights, with beautiful fertile valleys and tossing streamsbetween. A little, lonely, helpless human soul he lay upon Nature'smajestic bosom, with the Infinite hand beneath his head. 

In the morning when he waked billows of mist in silver splendour wererolling slowly from the valleys below, like Nature's incense rising inher sacred morning hour. 

Although born in the mountains the mystic grandeur of the scene filledSteve with awe. Rising, he gazed, a part of the worshipful silence, and then as the sun burst suddenly into golden glory above the wavesof mist, his mind as suddenly seemed to shoot up from the mists offatigue and sleep. It was the peculiarly clear brain which sometimescomes with long abstinence from food. Instantly he knew that he hadbeen fooled!

Turning to look back over the way he had come he said to himself:"Them boys told me wrong, an' they did hit a purpose. They're lacktheir pappy, they don't want to larn nothin' an' they don't wantnobody else ter nuther. "

V

A DOUBLE RESCUE

The boy stood quietly on the mountain top and took his bearings. Heknew the way he had come, and remembering his previous impressions, and what his friend on the moving wagon had said, he turned at lastand started down at an acute angle from the direction he had come. Hegathered again as he went whatever he knew to be good to eat in theway of berries and herbs, but he soon began to feel so weary that hecould hardly drag himself along. Had he gotten out of the wildernessonly to plunge into it again and be lost? For as the day went on andhe met no one, saw no cabin or the long-looked-for railroad tracks, discouragement and anxiety beset him. Noon passed again. Sometimes hethought he must stop and rest, but he was afraid if he did he couldnever get up again. His fatigue and hunger were far greater than inhis previous experience in the wilderness, for he had never eatenheartily at the roadside cabin, knowing that food was not abundantthere. So he was not in the best of trim for a long fast and greatphysical strain. 

The remnants of his courage were wearing away when at last he seemedto be emerging into a more open country. He was still in the woods, but there was a subtle difference. He felt somehow that man was inproximity somewhere, though he had as yet seen no sign. His pulsesquickened a little, and then suddenly a child's scream rang out. 

Steve bounded forward at first with joy, and then as scream afterscream followed, with the unmistakable agony of fear in the cry, forgetting his deadly weariness he ran swiftly in the direction of thesound, dropping the fox skin as he ran. In a breathless moment he camein sight of a good sized tree, and hanging from a high limb by theskirt of her dress was a little girl, head downward. 

Steve saw in an instant that she could not help herself, and that shemight fall to her death any moment. He did not pause or hesitate. Upthe tree he went, his bare feet clinging to the sides, up and up in atwinkling, then he carefully crept out upon the limb and drew thelittle girl safely up beside him. 

"Oh, " she said when she had recovered her equilibrium and gotten herbreath, "I thank you so much, " and even then Steve was conscious thathe had never seen anything so pretty in all his life as the blue eyeswhich looked up into his, and the soft yellow curls which framed herlittle face. But he hurried to get her down safely. With infinite carehe helped her until she could go on down the tree alone, and then, hedid not know what happened, but things suddenly seemed to whirl roundand he fell to the ground in an unconscious heap. 

The next he knew some one was wiping his face with a damp cloth andchafing his hands. He was too tired to open his eyes and see who itwas. Then a woman's voice was saying in a worried but gentle tone:

"What were you doing in the tree, Nancy? You know I don't like for youto climb trees. "

"Why, mother, " replied a frightened little voice, "I found a poorlittle birdie out of its nest, and I pinned it up tight in my apronpocket and carried it up the tree and put it into the nest. The fatherand mother bird were so worried about it. I didn't know I was going tofall, and make this boy fall too, and hurt himself so bad, " and thesmall voice broke pitifully. 

"You never should have tried to do such a thing, " said her motherfirmly, and then as the little voice went into sobs, Steve opened hiseyes in a brave effort to try to assure them he was all right. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you are better, " exclaimed the woman who knelt besidehim. 

She looked so kind and nice that Steve struggled to get up and furtherreassure her, but there seemed weights holding him down and a sharppain thrust through and through his left arm. 

"I am afraid you have broken your arm, " said the woman anxiously. "Nancy, you run right over to the store and get your father, " she saidto the little girl. And Steve watched a white pinafore and flyingyellow curls through a half-conscious dream mist, with a satisfiedsense that he was at last in the new world of his visions. 

And he was, for he had stumbled blindly through a bit of wood at theback of Mr. Follet's, the station-master's home, and just in time torescue his little girl. 

Mrs. Follet had heard the child's screams, for the tree was in theedge of the wood only a little way from the house, and she reached theplace just after Steve had fallen to the ground, having seen thechild's perilous position and Steve's rescue. She had dampened herhandkerchief in a near-by spring and worked over the boy untilconsciousness returned. 

The little white pinafore was soon running back with Mr. Folletwalking rapidly. 

"What under the cano_pee_ does all this mean?" he asked excitedly ashe came up, although Nancy had told him about the accident. "Are youhurt much, boy?" he went on. 

Steve heard what was said in a vague way, but he couldn't reply andMrs. Follet explained that she didn't think the boy was fullyconscious yet, and they would have to try to get him to the house. 

So Mr. Follet, who was a small but very wiry man, soon had him up inhis arms, while Mrs. Follet supported his head and together theycarried him to the house and laid him down on a couch. Then Mrs. Follet quickly fixed him a hot drink and gave it slowly to him. Witheach swallow the sturdy boy felt stronger, and by the time he hadtaken a cup full, was able to talk freely. 

"Where under the cano_pee_ did you come from anyway? You don't livehereabouts, do you?" asked Mr. Follet, who was of the restless, nervous temperament which must know things at once. 

"Now, Pa, " said Mrs. Follet, "you must get the doctor to set his armbefore you ask him anything, " and Mr. Follet started off. 

Steve looked curiously at the arm hanging limply by his side. He hadnever seen a broken arm before though he had heard that arms and legscould break and be mended like hoe or ax handles. 

By questioning, Mrs. Follet found that he had had nothing to eatsince the day before, so she prepared him a dainty meal which filledthe mountain boy with wonder. There was a poached egg, a bit of toastand a cup of hot milk, none of which had he ever tasted or seenprepared before. But it all was very, very good, and as he ate Nancyslipped shyly into the room. She had stayed outside in frightenedmisery, feeling that all the trouble was her fault. Her mother saidkindly:

"That's right, child, come on in; our boy is better now. " The littlegirl sat down timidly on the edge of a chair, and Steve took in thecomplete vision. 

Soft yellow locks strayed out from a ribbon and tumbled about before apair of deep blue eyes. Round cheeks were pink and soft, sweet lipswere red and shyly smiling, a white apron with ruffles almost covereda blue gingham dress. The boy held his breath at the beauty of theapparition. He had never dreamed of anything so sweet and pretty inall the world. 

It was not long before Mr. Follet returned with the doctor and thebroken arm was successfully set, Steve bearing the pain "like atrump, " as Mr. Follet put it. Then Mrs. Follet said he must go to bedat once, and he went up a tiny flight of stairs to a bed in a littleattic chamber which she had made ready. Knowing the ways of mountainfolk, Mrs. Follet did not insist that he undress, as the task wouldbe difficult for him with the broken arm. He slept soundly in spite ofpain in the arm upon a remarkable bed "off the floor" and awokefeeling well, and eager to see again his new friends. 

When he got down the stairs, Mrs. Follet was busy getting thebreakfast, and Mr. Follet was ready with questions. 

"Where under the cano_pee_ (which was a favourite expression with Mr. Follet) did you drap from yesterday, just in time to save our Nancy?You don't live hereabouts, do you?"

"No, " said Steve, "I come from Hollow Hut. "

"And where's that?" returned Mr. Follet. 

Steve couldn't tell very clearly, but gave an account of his longjourney and told about the watch and the fox skin which he was goingto take to the man in the city. 

Mr. And Mrs. Follet were much interested in his story, so much so thatthey forgot the waiting breakfast. Then they turned to it, but Stevehad remembered that he dropped his fox skin as he ran to Nancy'srescue and he wanted to go at once for it, but Mrs. Follet would notlet him go till he had eaten breakfast. The neatly laid table with itssnowy cloth was a new wonder to Steve, and when the little girl, looking fresh and sweet as a rose, sat down opposite him, he was soawed and thrilled he could scarcely eat. Angels could hardly havegiven him a more heavenly vision than did this little girl. 

Breakfast over, Steve started at once for the fox skin, and Mrs. Follet sent Nancy with him to help find it. The little girl lost someof her shyness as they looked for the skin, and Steve listened to herchatter, feeling in a strange way that it was all a dream which he hadhad before, as we do sometimes in experiences which move us strongly. 

They found the skin with little trouble, and when they had carried itback to the house, Mr. Follet took it up and carefully examined it. 

"So you're trying to get this here skin to the man in the city whosent the watch to you?"

"Yes, " said Steve. 

"And you ain't got hair or hide o' the watch now?" continued Mr. Follet. 

"No, I hain't, " said the boy sorrowfully. 

"Well, I'll be sniggered, " said Mr. Follet. "And how under thecano_pee_ do you expect to find him in the city when you git thar?"

The boy's uncomprehending stare showed that he had no conception of acity, and Mr. Follet looked at his wife, laughed and went over to thestation, which was station and store combined. 

For a few days Steve continued to live in a dream. The house was amarvel to him. Mrs. Follet cooked on a stove and constantly fixedstrange, nice things to eat; a clock ticked on the mantel, whichcomforted him somewhat for the loss of his watch, --there were queerbut to him surprisingly beautiful and comfortable pieces of furniture, and one room had a nice piece of good stout cloth with red and greenflowers on it spread over the floor on which people walked!

Then marvel of marvels, every now and then that engine and great trainof cars came puffing and hissing by the house in full view, and theboy's spirits mounted on wings as he thought of the wonders of theworld. 

Even with one arm disabled, he took hold at once to help with the workabout the place. He fed the chickens, horse and cow. With only onehand he could not learn to milk, though he was eager to do so. He wentover to the store on errands and made himself useful in many ways. 

One day when at the store he said to Mr. Follet that as soon as hisarm was well he would have to be going on to the city to take the foxskin. 

"And how under the cano_pee_ do you expect to be ridin' round on therailroad without money?" said Mr. Follet. He knew well the boy hadnone. "You ain't a Rockefeller or a Jay Gould, air you?"

These allusions of course meant nothing to the boy, and the questionof money was a new one to him. None of his late friends in theirsimplicity had thought of it, and the man had to make clear the needof it in the business world which Steve had come into. With his peoplethings had always been "swapped"; corn, tobacco and whiskey, for thefew things they needed from a store, and he had seen very few piecesof money in his life. 

"Now, how under the cano_pee_ are you going to come up with themoney?" asked Mr. Follet briskly, and with practical pertinence. 

Steve certainly did not know and then Mr. Follet proposed that he staywith them through the summer, work for him and he would give him hisboard and clothes and pay him fifty cents a week. 

Steve agreed readily and at once felt a new sense of responsibilityand manliness. 

When his arm was quite well Mrs. Follet gave him some long whitegarments which she called "nightshirts, " and told him to undress atnight and wear them for sleeping! It was a very needless performance, he felt in his secret heart, but he had already learned to love thegentle woman and he would have done even more foolish things to pleaseher. In fact, the thing which she gave him for brushing his hairseemed at first to bring him to the limit of acquiescence, but the bitof broken looking-glass stuck in one of the timbers of his room soontold him that a little smoothing down of his tousled head made animmense difference in his looks, and somehow made him seem a littlemore worthy to be in Nancy's presence. 

The little girl had lessons at night from her mother in wonderfulbooks, and Steve listened with rapt attention each time, beginningvery soon to catch their meaning. It was not long till he had confidedto Nancy how his "mammy" had wanted him to "larn things" too, and thatwas another reason why he was trying to get to the city. 

"You're going to school then, " said the little girl. "My mama teachesme, and some day she is going to send me to a big, big college. "

Mrs. Follet had been a school-teacher from the north in one of thesmall Kentucky towns, an orphan girl, who very young had been obligedto make her own way in the world. She had met Mr. Follet, and in oneof those strange attractions between complete opposites in temperamentand training, had married him. She was a quiet, refined and verykind-hearted woman. She would gladly have taught the boy, but findingthat he did not know even his letters, she felt that with Nancy in thesecond reader, she could not take another pupil who was a beginner. 

But when the lessons were going on in the evening Steve soon began tospell over the words to himself as Nancy spelled them, and then itcame about that often at odd times the brown shock of hair and thelittle yellow curls bent together over bits of paper, as the littlegirl pointed out and explained the make-up of the letters to the bigboy. 

"Don't you see, Steve, this little chicken coop with a piece across itis big A, and this one with the piece standing up and two curly thingsat the side is big B. " The peculiarities of similar letters werediscussed, how the bottom curly thing in big R turned the other way, while P didn't have any bottom curly thing at all, and F didn't haveany bottom cross piece, while E did. 

"See here, " said Steve, growing alert, "here's a powerful nice gate;whut's that?"

"Oh, that's big H, " said Nancy, "and wriggly, twisty S is just theprettiest letter of all, I think. Oh, Steve, that is the letter whichbegins your name, " said she, in generous, childish joy. 

"Is that so?" exclaimed Steve, with eager pleasure because she waspleased. "And which is the one whut begins yourn?"

"Oh, mine is just two straight standing up pieces with a slantingpiece between. It's one kind of a gate but not just like H, " and shehunted out an N to show him. 

"_I_ think that's the prettiest letter of all, " said Steve, withunconscious gallantry. "Whar's the other letters in yo' name?" heinquired, and Nancy hunted them all out. Then she found the otherletters in his name, and Steve had an undefined disappointment thathis name did not have a single letter in it which belonged to hername. It seemed to shut him out more completely from the things whichbelonged to her. 

So the lessons went on from the little girl to the big boy, and Mrs. Follet was amazed one day to find that Steve could read quite well. Hestudied every book and paper within reach as he found time, though henever neglected his duties. 

Corn was constantly brought Mr. Follet in exchange for goods at thestore, and one of Steve's duties was to take the old horse with twobig bags of corn over to the Greely mill to be ground into meal. Nancywas mounted upon the old horse in front of the bags to show Steve theway on his first trip, and afterwards she always begged to go. ToSteve it was the greatest joy to take the little girl with him, thoughhe wouldn't have dared ask it. He taught her to put her small foot inhis hand while he sturdily lifted her to the old white mare's back, and on the return she stepped down into his palm with equal ease. 

The way to the mill lay along the road for a time, and then a shortcut was made across what was known as the Greely Ridge. It was a steepcliff of rugged woodland, and both Nancy and Steve enjoyed the tripthrough the woods, Steve walking close beside the horse and the twochatting all the way. He told the little girl such interesting thingsabout birds and squirrels, rabbits and foxes. 

"Don't you wish we were birds, " said Nancy one day, "so we could flyway off and see lots of things?"

"Yes, " said Steve, "I shore do; then I could find Mr. Polk and givehim his fox skin. " The thought of getting to Mr. Polk was always inhis mind, and though the little girl knew all about it she wanted tohear again how Steve got the skin and about that wonderful day in thewoods when he met Mr. Polk, and the beautiful watch that the robberstook. 

"When you find Mr. Polk and learn to make watches and things, likeyour mother wanted you to, you will make one just like yours for me, won't you, Steve?"

"Yes, I shore will, " said Steve earnestly, never doubting that hewould keep his promise. 

There was nothing Steve would not attempt for her pleasure. He went tothe tops of trees after some vacant bird nest or hanging flower, hechased rabbits and hunted squirrels that she might get a glimpse ofthem. 

[Illustration: The Old Greely Mill]

"Some day, Steve, " said Nancy innocently, "let's build us a house andlive here always; we do have such good times when we come to thiswood. "

Steve replied again, "Yes, I shore will, " and neither dreamed what thewood was hiding for them to be revealed, far out in the veiledfuture. 

When they reached the mill, Mr. And Mrs. Greely were always so glad tosee them. They had no children of their own and they liked thestraightforward, dependable boy, while the little girl with her sweet, shy ways, was always a delight. Mrs. Greely would often stop herspinning to get a little treat for them, which they would eat whilethe corn was being ground, and going to mill came to make four peoplehappy each trip. 

VI

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Mr. Follet was a man of unique business methods. He had no idea oforderliness, though he insisted he knew where everything was, andstrenuously declined his wife's offers to go over to the store, orstores rather, and help him "straighten up. " The stock had overflowedthe floor of the original building and instead of putting in shelvesto dispose of the stock conveniently, he built another and stillanother shanty to hold the overflow. But in spite of queer methods hewas making money steadily. He kept each building securely locked, forhe said he wouldn't have idle folks sitting around in his store. Hewent over to the station according to the railroad time schedule, though it was only a flag station and was seldom flagged, and wheneverhe saw a customer at the store door or on the way, he bustled over tounlock the door, stumble around in the dark, for there were nowindows, and hunt out what they wanted. 

Bacon, molasses, dress-goods, coffins and farm implements were onclose terms of intimacy and whatever was wanted Mr. Follet couldproduce with amazing promptness. 

Such methods, however, consumed a great deal of time on the pathbetween his home and the store, and Steve filled an urgent need of thecombined establishment. 

One morning at breakfast in early autumn Mr. Follet was in a greatflutter of excitement. A travelling auditor of the railroad was to bethere for the day looking over his accounts and this not frequentevent was a sore trial to both the station-master and the auditor. Each time Mr. Follet said to him nervously: "Now, you know I can'tkeep things like the road tells me to, and if things don't just comeout even I'll make up whatever's lacking. "

When the auditor, a big, broad-shouldered, kindly-faced gentlemanarrived on this particular morning, and was seated for work, Mr. Follet made his usual statement. 

"All right, Mr. Follet, all right, " said the genial auditor, "we knowyou are straight as a string. Are you sure you've got all the ticketstubs?" he continued as Mr. Follet brought out some bits of pasteboardfrom a big bushel basket. 

"Oh, yes, I'm sure, " said Mr. Follet. "I don't let nobody in here butmyself and so nothing is out of place. " Then thinking a minute, hesaid, "Well now I do believe I stuck a few stubs in this tin pail. "He looked, and sure enough there were a few more. 

"And the bills of lading, " said the auditor, "are these all?"

Mr. Follet pondered a moment and then brightening, exclaimed: "Why no, I stuck a few of them in one of these here coffins one day for safekeeping, " and he stepped over to a grim pine coffin keeping companywith a pile of gay bandanas, and brought forth another bunch of bills. But his foot caught in a coil of barbed wire as he started over to theauditor with them and it was at that moment that Steve came to thestation door to get something and Mr. Follet called out, "Here, Steve, hand these over to the gentleman. " The boy started to obey, but whenhe turned and faced the auditor he stood rooted to the floor, his facewhite and eyes staring. 

"What ails you?" said Mr. Follet sharply, noticing him. The auditorlooked quickly up also, and the boy found his voice. 

"Samuel Polk, " he said slowly. 

The auditor smiled, and replied pleasantly, "That's my name, son, andwhere did you ever know me?"

"Ye sent me the watch, " said the boy. 

"Is that so!" exclaimed Mr. Polk. "So you are the boy I met in thewoods! Well, this is marvellous, sure, that we should meet here. Howdid you ever get so far away from Hollow Hut?" he went on smiling. 

The boy told him briefly, while Mr. Follet listened with livelyinterest. When the pitiful tale of the loss of the watch was told, Steve added sturdily:

"But I got yer fox skin in spite of 'em, an' I've been a-workin' togit to the city to give it ter ye. "

"Working to take the skin to me when you have no watch, " said theauditor, gently. 

"Course, " said the boy; "hit was yourn jes' the same, " and the auditorreached out and drew the boy to him tenderly, thinking of all thehardship he had borne in the effort to be square and honest. 

"You are the boy for me, " he said with a glimmer in his eyes that madeSteve feel queer, and he broke away, saying, "I'll go and brung ye theskin. "

He was back as quickly as his sturdy legs could bring him, and laidthe fox skin on Mr. Polk's knee. It was gravely accepted and admired, and then Steve returned to his work with all the earnestness he couldsummon after the excitement of this unexpected meeting. 

When Mr. Follet and Mr. Polk came over to dinner the acquaintance ofthe two who had met that November day in the mountains was continuedand Mr. Polk was greatly pleased to find that the boy was already"larnin', " and astonished at the progress which had been made duringthe summer. On the way back to the store he said to Mr. Follet:

"I've taken a great fancy to that boy; he ought to have a goodeducation. I am all alone in the world and no good to anybody. If it'sall square with you, I'll take that boy to the city with me thisafternoon when I leave at four-thirty and put him in schoolsomewhere. "

Mr. Follet was amazed and he hated to give up the boy who had becomeso useful, but after a moment's thought, he said:

"I don't see as I have anything to say about it. He just stopped hereon his way to you, and you've come to him. You'll have to take him ifyou want him, though I don't see how under the canopee we'll get alongwithout him now. "

"That is just like you, Follet, straight always, " said the otherwarmly, and after a little the station-master went back to take thenews to Steve. It startled them all and Mrs. Follet expressed hergreat regret in seeing the boy go, but she put his few littlebelongings in good order and prepared him to start off "clean andwhole, " as she expressed it. Nancy looked on wide-eyed, and Steve gotready like one in a dream. He wrapped his small bundle of clothes inthe fox skin, which Mr. Polk had asked him to take care of, and wentover to the station. 

At four-thirty the train rushed up. Mr. Polk led Steve into abeautiful plush-seated car and placed the boy where he could have alast look at his friends, for Mr. And Mrs. Follet and Nancy stood onthe platform. 

It was Nancy who held his eyes till the last moment, little Nancy withtwo big tears dropping down her cheeks. Steve's throat achedunaccountably. 

VII

A TRIP TO THE CITY

"Here we are, " said Mr. Polk, as the train thundered into thestation at Louisville. The ride of four hours had been a continuedkaleidoscopic delight. Steve could not understand how it was thattrees and houses went racing by the car windows and Mr. Polk hadrare enjoyment in the boy's unsophisticated inquiry and comment. 

Bringing this boy into the city was like giving sudden sight to achild who had lived its life in blindness. With keenest pleasure, Mr. Polk took him into a brilliantly lighted restaurant for supperand then afterwards up town by trolley into a large furnishingestablishment, for it was Saturday night and the stores were open. There he fitted the little fellow out from top to toe according tohis liking, the outfit including a shining German silver watch! Thetwo attracted attention everywhere, the boy's face a study in itsswiftly changing expression and the man full of eager interest whichhe could not curb. 

When Steve was all dressed and stood before a mirror, Mr. Polkexclaimed:

"Now, that is something like!" And the boy turning from thetransformed vision of himself, lifted a quivering face to hisbenefactor. 

There was a delicately sensitive side to the nature of this boy of thewoods. To him this experience was not simply getting new, fineclothes, but his old familiar self seemed to go with the old clothes, and like the chrysalis emerging into the butterfly, he could not passinto the new life, which the new type of clothes represented, withouthaving his joy touched with the pain of travail. 

With the tenderness of a woman Mr. Polk put his arm about the littlefellow in quick contrition, knowing that it had been too much for thishabitant of the quiet woods, and said in a most matter-of-fact way:"Now, son, for home and bed, " and in a few minutes more the boy wassnugly tucked in bed in Mr. Polk's comfortable bachelor quarters, andthe next morning when he woke he was a new boy inwardly as well asoutwardly. 

He was ready for new "thrills" and they came. After a very astonishingbreakfast he went with Mr. Polk to church. The beautiful building andwonderfully dressed people held his wide-eyed interest, but when thedeep-toned organ poured forth its solemn melody, big tears droppeddown the boy's face and Mr. Polk drew him within a protecting arm. Itwas like touching the quivering chords of a little bared soul withnew, strange harmonies, and the sensitive heart of the man understoodintuitively the boy's mingled joy and pain. 

In the afternoon Mr. Polk took his charge to the home of a friend tosee about schools, as his friend had a boy about the same age, andalso to get help as to the general problem of caring for his protégé. 

Arrived at the house, the friend, Mr. Colton, his wife and Maud, theyoung daughter about fifteen years of age, were at home and gave thevisitors a lively welcome. They were at once greatly interested in themountain boy, but so civilized was his outfit, and intelligent hisface that they could not realize his difference from themselves exceptwhen he talked. This they were delighted to get him to do, and heanswered all questions unabashed, though he liked better to look andlisten. 

The Coltons were well-to-do people with ever-ready, easy hospitalityand insisted that Mr. Polk and Steve remain to tea. 

"The maids are both out as it happens, so we must get tea ourselves, "said Mrs. Colton, adding with mock graciousness, "and everybody mayhelp!"

They all trooped out in responsive pleasantry through the hall, andMr. Colton inquired:

"Where is Raymond?"

"Oh, he is out, " replied Mrs. Colton. "There is no telling when hewill be in. "

That they were very indulgent parents and Raymond was an exceedinglylively boy, Mr. Polk already knew. 

The hostess and her daughter exchanged glances of sudden consternationwhen they reached the dining-room, then burst into merriest laughter. 

At last Mrs. Colton said between subsiding ripples, "Father, please godown in the basement and look in the furnace and you'll find the bakerwith the cold roast left from dinner! Mr. Polk, you go along too, please, and you'll see some loose bricks between the joists rightunder this dining-room window, and right behind them is the bread-boxwhich you can bring up!"

"The cake is up-stairs in the hat-box of my trunk under lock and key, "gaily put in Maud, "and you can come with me, Steve, and bring downthe preserves from under the bed!"

By this time the whole family were in gales of laughter, and Steve wasgreatly puzzled at this new phase of civilization. Mrs. Colton finallyexplained that for a few Sundays past Raymond had been carrying offeverything there was to eat in the house, and having "spreads" in thebarn with his chums. This time they determined to outwit him. 

Mr. Polk joined heartily in all the merriment, going after andbringing in provisions, but in his heart he thought, "This is theproduct of too much opportunity--give me my mountain boy every time. If he doesn't outstrip this pampered son, I miss my guess. "

A little later Raymond came in and dominated the conversation at once, after the manner of too many bright, confident children of modern citylife. After tea he took Steve in charge on a lively tour ofexploration, and Mr. Polk talked over his plans for his boy. 

"The thing you ought to do, " said Mr. Colton who was very clear-headedconcerning everything except his own son, "is to put the boy in amountain college. He would be at a disadvantage among boys of his agein town, and then you've no way to take care of him, travelling as youdo. My wife has a friend near here who is greatly interested in amountain college; just go over and see her. "

This seemed good advice and Mr. Colton took Mr. Polk and Steve over atonce. 

The lady came in and greeted them with gracious cordiality, but whenshe learned their errand and knew that one of the little mountainboys, to whose welfare she had given so much thought, time and money, was before her, her eyes grew tender and filled with tears. 

"He must go to our mountain college at once; the school has justopened, " she said. So they heard all about the school and itsopportunities. When she had finished Steve spoke up:

"Is all that jes' fer mountain boys lack me?" This seemed beyondbelief, but they assured him it was. 

Raymond had greatly enjoyed demonstrating the mysteries of thetelephone, electric lights and various contrivances of his own to sototally unenlightened and yet so appreciative an intelligence asSteve's, while the quaint mountain speech interested and amused himexceedingly. So when Mr. Polk and the boy took leave of the Coltonsfor the night Raymond secured a promise that Steve might attend schoolwith him next day. Mr. Polk would be busy making arrangements for thefew days' holiday which would be necessary to take Steve back to themountains and place him in school. 

Promptly next morning Raymond arrived at Mr. Polk's rooms for Steveand the boys started off together like two comrades. It was Steve'sfirst day in a schoolroom, and eye and ear were on the alert, takingin everything. 

He was well dressed and with his intelligent face the other boysnoted nothing unusual until the noon hour when Raymond introduced hisnew specimen with keen relish. He had no unkind intentions in the slywinks he gave chosen comrades, but these aroused the curiosity of hisfellows, and when Steve began to talk the boys awoke to livelypossibilities. One after another began to ask questions. 

"What did you do for fun down at Hollow Hut?" asked one. 

"We uns didn't do nothin' fer fun, 'cep'in' hunt cotton tails, foxesan' coons, " answered the boy. 

"Didn't you play football?" asked some one else. 

"I nuver hearn tell of it, " said Steve. 

"Du tell, " returned another boy, venturing to fall a little into thestranger's vernacular. 

"Didn't you ever play tennis, shinny or baseball?" persisted some oneelse, and Steve replied politely "that nobody ever hearn o' themthings in Hollow Hut. "

The boys then began to venture more boldly into imitations of Steve'sspeech while some got behind him and doubled up in silent laughter. Raymond looked on, feeling himself the hero of the day in havingfurnished such a comedy. 

Suddenly Steve turned, perhaps with some intuition of what was goingon, and with swift comprehension knew that he was being made fun of. His face on the instant was electrified with wrath. He drew himselfup, and clenched his hands. Then in a twinkling his coat and cap wereupon the ground. Taking the first boy at hand Steve dealt him a blowfrom the shoulder with a lean, sinewy arm that sent him spinningacross the yard, and before any one could realize what was happeningthree or four others followed, and the rest, frightened at his fury, took to their heels with speed. 

Steve stood alone at last quivering from head to foot; then calmingslowly, he took his coat on his arm, put on his cap and walked away, not knowing whither he was going. But as he grew more quiet he tookhis bearings, and his keen sense of direction and good recollection ofthings they had passed in going, led him without trouble back to Mr. Polk's rooms. 

Raymond was not a cad, and when he had time to think was thoroughlyashamed of himself. He went to the teacher and made confession; thenas both were afraid the boy might get lost or come to some harm, hewent at once on a search. He did not dream that Steve could sodirectly find his way back, and Raymond wandered about for hours in afruitless search, doing without his dinner. At last, frightened andcontrite, he went to Mr. Polk's office. Here the confession was harderto make, but it came out in all its humiliating details. Having easedhis conscience he wound up with a burst of enthusiasm: "I tell you, Mr. Polk, Steve's got the stuff in him. There isn't a fellow in schoolbut thinks he is fine. We didn't mean a thing by our fun, but heserved us just right, and every fellow wants to take his paw. "

Mr. Polk said little but sending Raymond home and promising totelephone later, he went directly to his rooms, knowing Steve's keenlyintuitive mind better than Raymond. Though anxious until it was proventrue, Mr. Polk found Steve as he had expected, seated in his roomswhen he got there. But he saw a most dejected little figure. The newclothes were laid aside, the old mountain things were on, and theboy's face was drawn and white, though he fronted Mr. Polk sturdily. 

"I don't belong in no town. I ain't got no town ways. I'll jes' goback to Hollow Hut and stay thar. "

Mr. Polk put his arm about the boy and gently drew him to a seat. Forsome moments there was silence. 

"Steve, " he said at last, "did the trip over the mountains from HollowHut to Mr. Follet's sometimes seem hard for you?"

"Hit shore did, " said the boy slowly. 

"But you didn't give up the struggle, did you?"

"No, " said Steve, still slowly. 

"Well, the journey of life is like that journey over the mountains: itis often hard; there are things to overcome and things to endure. Youhave started now up the long, hard hill of learning, and I hope youare not going to turn back at the laughter of a few boys. You thrashedthem out, I understand, " he went on, and his voice held a strong hintof satisfaction; "pass right on now, putting the incident behind youjust as you did each rocky summit you mounted on that difficultjourney. You must climb to the top, son, understand; nothing short ofthat will satisfy me!" And he looked earnestly, almost vehemently intothe boy's eyes. 

The penetrating gaze was returned, but with a puzzled, groping inquiryfor his benefactor's full intent. 

"Yer mean I mus' larn as much as you know?" he asked at last. 

"More, --infinitely more, " said Mr. Polk with energy. "I have half-wayclimbed the mountain of knowledge and success in life, --I have evenstopped less than half-way, " he corrected a little bitterly, "but, "rousing himself, "I want to begin life over again in you, and nothingbut the very top of the mountain of success will ever satisfy me!" Heturned again to the boy with a deep, searching gaze. 

"You are a boy of your word, " he went on after a moment, "that is whatpleased me most about you, and now at the very outset of this businessof learning and succeeding in life, I want your promise that you willnot halt before obstacles, but go to the top!"

There was impelling enthusiasm as well as energy in the resonanttones, and Steve's spirit kindled with answering enthusiasm and aglimmering vision of heights which he had not hitherto glimpsed. 

"I'll git ter the top, Mr. Polk, --ef I don't die on the way, " he saidwith solemn earnestness. 

It was a most unexpected, peculiarly intense moment for both, and inthe silence which followed, the imagination of boy and man scaledlofty peaks, but the mountain of material success which filled Mr. Polk's vision was not the beautiful, mystic height upon which the boygazed, and neither dreamed of the conflict which this fact was tobring about in future years. 

"God hath set eternity in the heart of man, " and the child of thewoods felt the stirring of an eternal purpose, undefined though itwas. The glamour of the world had long since intervened for the man. 

The telephone rang noisily, having no respect for visions, and Mr. Polk rose to answer it while Steve began at once to put on again thenew clothes in unconscious ratification of his solemn life-promise toMr. Polk. 

It was Mrs. Colton at the phone and she learned with great relief thatSteve had been found. She insisted that Mr. Polk and the boy must comeover to supper, after which there would be a little impromptu party ofRaymond's friends for Steve. 

The boy looked very sober when this announcement was made to him, butMr. Polk smiled and said heartily, as he had already done to Mrs. Colton:

"Of course we will go!" And they went. 

There was just a bit of awkwardness when the boys came into theColtons' that evening and met Steve once more, but Mr. Polk, with anadroit question, started him to telling them about trapping rabbits, chasing foxes and treeing coons while the boys became so interested, including Steve himself, that all unpleasantness was forgotten. Uponleaving, each boy took Steve's hand with real respect and liking, andRaymond expressed the general sentiment when he exclaimed, "You're abrick!"

Next day Mr. Polk and Steve started for the mountain school. As theysat together on the train Steve said: "I'll be larnin' to do thingsjes' like mammy said fer me ter do. I wonder ef she will know. "

"I think so, " said Mr. Polk simply, but with a gentle sympathy in hisvoice, which, whenever expressed by look or tone, seemed to bring theboy close to the heart of the man. Resting a moment in this embrace, Steve asked a question which had come to him several times. His fatherand all the mature men he had known had been married, --for bachelorsare rare in the mountains, --why had Mr. Polk no wife?

"Is ye woman dead, Mr. Polk?" was the question he asked. 

"No, " answered Mr. Polk, with a smile that flitted quickly, "she didnot marry me at all, and so has left me lonely all my life. I wouldhave been a far better man had she done so. As it is, " and thebitterness crept into his voice again, "I stopped half-way up the hillof success as I told you, and threw my prospects away. That is why youare to live my life over for me and bring success whether or no. "

VIII

OPPORTUNITY

Mr. Polk and Steve made their railroad trip by night, and the sleeperwith its rows of shelf-like beds was a fresh experience for the boy, but he climbed to the upper berth and slept the sleep of healthyyouth. They reached L---- about seven o'clock in the morning, and thesight of mountain and valley spread out before them in purple beautygave a strange thrill of joy to Steve. The mountaineer's love of themountains rushed upon him after all his new, pleasant experiences witha first consciously defined emotion. 

"Well, " said Mr. Polk, "now the problem is how we can cover that fortymiles which lies between us and our school. " But just at that momenthe spied an old man helping a woman into a wagon, and at once hestepped up, found they were fortunately going to the same point, andwould gladly take in two passengers with the ready accommodation ofmountain people. 

They travelled leisurely on and on, Steve seeing things of a familiartype and Mr. Polk much that was fresh and interesting. They stoppedover night at a little settlement and journeyed on again next day, reaching their destination early in the evening. When the group ofschool buildings came into view, the old mountaineer pointed out themain building with its tower, and told them which was the "gals'sleepin' place, " and which "the boys' sleepin' place, " as he termedthe two dormitories. He drove directly to the president's home, alittle unpainted frame house. They were cordially received, entertained at supper and taken afterwards to the boys' dormitory, where Steve was given a room with several other boys. Then they walkedover to "The Hall, " as it was called, and were introduced to theteachers, who were gathering there for the study hour. They had metseveral when a young woman's trim, slender figure, with a decided airof the city about it, appeared in the doorway, and the light fromwithin lit up a pair of clear, steady brown eyes, a pleasant mouthwith firmness lurking in the corners, and fluffy brown hair put backin a roll from a very attractive face. 

She stood a moment there in the doorway with a casual glance for thestrangers, then suddenly caught her breath and went white, butinstantly recovered herself as the president, oblivious of any tragicmoment for her, turned and said:

"This is Miss Grace Trowbridge; she came down here all the way fromNew York City to teach mountain boys and girls, --and she knows how todo it, too. "

Miss Trowbridge bowed and passed quickly within the hall. 

Mr. Polk acknowledged the introduction with a look on his face thatSteve had never seen before, and the boy felt somehow that his goodfriend had become a stranger as they walked back to the boys'dormitory for the night. Next morning, too, something had come betweenthem, and when Mr. Polk said he would leave that day instead ofstaying several days, as he had intended, Steve could make no reply. 

Before Mr. Polk left, however, in giving final instructions to hischarge, the old kindly manner returned, and as he said, "I hope youwill like it here, son, " the boy replied with his old freedom:

"I knows I'm a-goin' to like it, and that thar Miss Grace Trowbridgeis the nicest one of 'em all. She used ter live in New York City, thepresident said, whar you used ter live. Didn't you nuver know herthar?" he asked innocently, not yet comprehending in the least cityconditions. 

Mr. Polk set his lips grimly and answered sternly: "Yes, " as hemounted a mule to ride back the forty miles to the nearest railroadstation. 

What was the matter again? The boy did not know, and he felt asthough a sudden chill had come upon him. But a moment later Mr. Polklooked down at him kindly, reached over, pressed his hand, and said:"Be a good boy, " as he rode away on the ambling mule. 

So Steve began his school life. He went into the second reader class, his opportunities at the Follets' having put him beyond the beginners. In his class were children of all ages and mature men and women, whowere just getting their first opportunity to learn. Steve was brightand quick, had a good mind, and made rapid progress. 

With the superior social advantages which he had found along the wayfrom Hollow Hut to the school, the boy became a great ally of theteachers in the battle for nightgowns, combs, and brushes for the hairand teeth, also for white shirts, collars and neckties on Sunday, which most of the boys thought "plum foolishness anyways. "

"Here, fellows, " Steve would say when he found them turning in atnight with soiled feet, coats and trousers, "this ain't the way tergit ter be president. " He organized a company of "regulators" in theboys' dormitory, and when any fellows turned in with soiled feet, coats and trousers, Steve's shrill whistle summoned the army and alively pillow fight ensued which was hard on the pillows but alwaysbrought victory for nightgowns. And when a boy refused to brush hishair in the morning the regulators invariably caught him, and thepenalty was a thorough brushing down of his rebellious locks by atleast twenty-five sturdy young arms. Under such methods the cause ofnightgowns and brushes was made to thrive. 

There was another cause which was more difficult, but which enlistedall Steve's best endeavour. Mountain children are apt to know thetaste of liquor from babyhood, but Steve had never liked it andneither had his mother. Occasionally parents, especially fathers, whenthey visited the school would bring the children bottles of"moonshine" to hide and drink from as they pleased, and the teachersfound Steve a great helper, though his corps of "regulators" could notalways be relied upon. 

In the midst of his interesting, new surroundings Steve's mind oftenwent back to the rock where Tige lay and to the grave of his "mammy. "How pleased she would be, he thought again and again, --maybe shewas--that he was where he could "larn things. "

He soon began to write letters to Mr. Polk, and a steady improvementwas noted all winter in these letters. There was always a great dealin them about Miss Grace, for she seemed to make him her specialcharge and the two were great friends. She loved to walk in the woodsand talk with Steve, hearing him tell many interesting things which hehad learned from intimate association with birds and animals. Sometimes she would take his hand at the top of a hill and togetherthey would race down, laughing and breathless to the bottom. Aftersuch a run, one day, they halted by the bank of a stream beneath oneof the grand old beeches for which Kentucky is famous. 

"Oh, Steve, " she exclaimed enthusiastically, "what a beautiful oldbeech this is. How symmetrical its giant trunk, how perfect itsdevelopment of each branch and twig, while it pushes up into the skyhigher than all its fellows, gets more sunshine than all the rest, hasthe prettiest growth of ferns and violets at its base, --and I justknow the birds and squirrels love it best!"

Miss Grace had a bubbling, contagious enthusiasm, and Steve followedher expressive gestures as she pointed out each detail of perfectionwith answering admiration. 

"Steve!" She turned suddenly and bent her eyes upon him with stillmore radiant emphasis. "I want you to be just such a grand specimen ofa man! Big and strong and well developed, --pushing up into the skyfurther than all the rest about you, getting more sunshine than anyone else--making little plants to grow and blossom all about you anddrawing to you the sweetest and best in life!"

He smiled back into her shining eyes, somewhat bewildered, but with anearnest:

"I shore will try, Miss Grace, but I don't know just what you mean. "

"I mean I want you to study hard, to develop every power of mind andbody you have, and then, --give your life for the uplift of thechildren of the mountains. "

She did not press him for a promise, nor linger upon the subject, butthe first dim outline of that mystic height of the boy's vision hadbeen traced. 

Upon another walk which they took together Steve asked Miss Grace howshe happened to come from her home way up in New York down to Kentuckyto teach mountain boys and girls, and she was silent a moment, a lookwhich he could not fathom coming over her bright face. At last shesaid, "I was very foolish; I threw away happiness. Then I heard ofthis work and came here that I might redeem my life by making ituseful. "

There was something about this boy of the mountains that made thetelling of the simple truth the natural thing; but startled at even sovague a revealing of her bruised heart, she turned the talk quickly toother things. 

IX

A STARTLING APPEARANCE

In the spring following came a great day for the mountain school whensome friends and benefactors were coming. Great preparations weremade. The school about three hundred strong fronted the main hall, andthere was great waving of small and large handkerchiefs in a genuinesalute as the visiting party drove up. 

When the company had scattered a little after the greeting, Stevesuddenly felt an arm about him and turning, found Mr. Polk smilingdown upon him. The boy was overjoyed and could only cling to his hand, speechless for a moment. Mr. Polk had met the visiting party on thetrain, among whom was the lady who had told him of the school, and shewould take no refusal, --he must go with them. 

 * * * * *

It was a beautiful day for Steve and in his boyish talk about his lifeand school he often spoke of Miss Grace, but each time came that grimsetting of Mr. Polk's lips and the boy soon instinctively dropped hername. The day was destined to be full of events, some in honour of thevisitors and some that were totally unexpected. 

The speech of welcome from the school was made by Stephen Langly. MissGrace had told him to say in his own words whatever was in his heartto say. So the boy stepped out from the gathered school, mounted alittle platform and stood before the assembled crowd unabashed, forthe mountaineer knows no embarrassment, while in simple good Englishhe thanked the generous friends and teachers for what they were doingfor mountain boys and girls. As he stood there well dressed, erect, manly, he bore little resemblance to the forlorn boy who had creptaway from his cabin home at Hollow Hut a year before. 

As the crowd dispersed a little after the speech-making, in whichseveral took part, Mr. Polk and Steve walked away together and passeda group of teachers and students of which the visiting lady of Mr. Polk's acquaintance was the centre. 

"Come here, Mr. Polk, please, and bring Steve to see me, " she called. 

Miss Grace Trowbridge was one of the group and Mr. Polk haltedreluctantly, but finally joined them. 

Before a word could be exchanged a tall, lank, grim mountaineerslouched forward and laid a horny hand upon Steve's shoulder. Thestartled boy looked up to see his father standing beside him!

The Kentucky mountain product, unlike any other so-called shiftlessman in the world, may idle his days away with pipe and drink, but leta wrong, real or fancied, be done him or his and in his thirst forvengeance he is transformed. His energy, his perseverance, hisintelligence, his fury become colossal. So, Jim Langly, convincedafter months of waiting and brooding that his boy had been enticedaway by the giver of the watch, had set out with a grim purpose offinding boy and man which had been undaunted by any obstacle. Withslow but persistent effort he had traced the child over mountain andvalley, often losing all clue, but never relaxing till at last he hadreached Mr. Follet and learned that the boy was in school. From thencehe easily made his way to the school of Mr. Polk's selection, and, arriving by strange providence upon a gala day, had found the twoobjects of his search at the same moment. 

"I've found ye at last, " he said grimly, "an' when I set eyes on theman whut give ye that watch and tolled my boy away from his home, I'llshoot him down lack a dog!"

Mr. Polk quietly walked out and said, "I am your man, Mr. Langly. "

"You, " the enraged mountaineer yelled, and jerking a pistol from histrousers pocket, he lifted and would have cocked it, but quick as adeer Grace Trowbridge had stepped in front of Mr. Polk, protecting himwith her body, while Steve threw himself on his father and screamedshrilly, dropping into the speech of the mountains:

"No, oh, pappy, pappy, don't shoot him! He nuver got me ter leavehome; I went myself, and I'll go back with yer and stay all my life!"

Frantically the boy clung to his father, pleading pitifully, whileGrace Trowbridge with all her strength pushed Mr. Polk back among aquickly gathering crowd. Others joined her, and in the excitement ofthe moment, both she and Mr. Polk were hurried into safety within oneof the school buildings and the door locked upon them. 

The town constable was on the ground, for his services were quitelikely to be needed in any public gathering, and before Jim Langlyrealized what was happening, being wholly unfamiliar with the ways oflaw and order, his pistol had been wrenched from his hand (somethingunheard of in mountain ethics), and he was hurried from the scene likean infuriated lion made captive. 

Breathless and spent, Grace Trowbridge found herself looking into theface of her old lover when the door was locked upon them. She stood aninstant like a frightened bird driven to cover, her eyes gazing intohis, anxiety, relief, tragic intensity born of but one emotion in herwhite quivering face, --and then the warm blood surged up withreturning realization of the years of estrangement between them, andshe wheeled for instant flight. 

But the door was locked, and baffled she faced him again, crying, "Oh, Sam, let me out!"

For answer he caught her in his arms and said, "Let you out, and awayfrom me? Never! I shall hold you fast instead. I love you, loveyou, love you, " he cried vehemently, "and what is more, you loveme!" He crushed her to him and the tense, spent figure relaxed inhis arms while love in full tide swept over them, after six wearyyears of longing and restraint. Their separation had followed amisunderstanding which now did not even seem to need explanation. 

"Sam, " she cried at last, moving energetically away from him, "I cannever give up these blessed mountain children. You'll have to adoptevery one of them if you take me!"

"All right, " he said happily, "just as many of them as you please. "

Instantly both remembered Steve. 

"Oh, Sam, where is Steve? Do you suppose his father has carried himoff, and that we will never see him again?" she exclaimed in distress, and a few moments later, when release came to them, their firstanxious inquiry was for the boy. 

No one had seen or thought of him in the excitement, and when thestory of Jim Langly's arrest had been told them, they searched thegrounds and buildings in great anxiety before they finally found Stevein his room. 

When Mr. Polk opened the door the boy stood before him dressed in alittle ragged shirt and old pair of trousers he had worn for huntingand with bared feet. The hopeless expression of the lost was in hisface. 

"I can't keep my promise to you, Mr. Polk, " he said brokenly. "I can'tever climb that mountain fer yer, but it is better fer me ter die onthe way than fer you to be killed. " Correct speech had no part in suchdespair. 

Mr. Polk drew the boy to him while Miss Grace stood without, her lipstremulous and eyes full of tears. After a silent moment Mr. Polk ledthe boy outside and put him in her arms. 

"Do you think we are going to give you up?" Mr. Polk said, striding upand down the hall. "Not by a long shot, " he went on with energy, and aconviction for which he could not at the moment see any tangiblefoundation. "This is all going to be fixed up, --just leave everythingto Miss Grace and me. "

The boy shook his head. "Ye don't know pappy, " he said sadly. 

"I may not, " returned Mr. Polk cheerfully, "but I know GraceTrowbridge, and I am going to trust her to keep you here. Do just asshe says, son, and everything will come right. "

He left them to talk with the president of the school. They discussedwhat should be done with Jim Langly. Mr. Polk greatly regretted theman's arrest, but was compelled to admit it could not have beenavoided. He begged, however, that prosecution of the case be delayeduntil every effort could be made to make Langly see that only good wasintended for his son. 

"Of course I must relinquish all claim to the boy, " he said sadly, "but we must by some means win the father's consent that Steve remainhere, --that is the important thing. "

So it was decided that Mr. Polk should leave, as his presence couldonly infuriate the man, and the president gladly promised to doeverything in his power to win the father. 

For a week Jim Langly remained in the lock-up of the town. He hadwrenched his back severely in the struggle with his captors; then, like a caged lion indeed, he had beaten the walls of his prison allnight without food or drink, and being a man of indolent habits, hecollapsed utterly next morning. The gaunt, haggard face with deephollows beneath the eyes, the giant figure lying helpless upon a rudecouch of the lock-up touched deeply the heart of Grace Trowbridge whenshe went in to see him. In his blind fury he had not noticed herespecially the day before; and when, without saying a word, shestepped lightly across the room and reaching through the iron barsclosed a rude shutter to screen the glare of the morning sun from hiseyes, then gently adjusted a pillow beneath his head and fed him a cupof hot broth, he accepted it all like a wild, sick animal which in itshelplessness has lost all animosity to man. 

During the day she tended him unobtrusively, but with infinitekindness, and next morning she found him better, but still willing toaccept her care. He even watched her with a far-away interest as onewould something unknown and yet strangely pleasing. By the thirdmorning she talked to him a bit as she smoothed his pillow, and smiledas he ate her toast with relish. 

At last he said with an effort, "Whar's Steve?"

"He is here, " she said gladly, "just waiting outside the door for youto ask for him. He has been there every day, " she added softly. 

Then she stepped to the door and motioned for Steve. The boy came in, still dressed in mountain fashion, for no amount of persuasion couldinduce him to again put on the better clothes. This evidently met thefather's approval, for a look of bitter expectancy which had come intohis face faded at once as he saw the old trousers and bare feet. 

"Set down, " he commanded feebly, but not unkindly, though he hadnothing more to say. 

The two stayed with him through the day, and gradually Grace, withconsummate tact, made conversation which included the three, thoughLangly took little part. Then she read a stirring story whichcompelled his attention and interest even though he had never heardanything read aloud before. It was the first time in the mountaineer'slong life that he had ever been unable to rise from his bed and go hisway and the helplessness had softened his spirit like the touch of afairy's wand. As he listened to the sweet, cultured voice of the womanwhile she read and saw Steve with quickened intelligence followingevery word, he realized for the first time that the world held strangethings in which he had no part, but for which his boy was ready. 

At last Miss Grace turned to Steve and said in the most naturalmanner, "My throat is getting tired; won't you read a little for us?"

The boy looked at his father in quick alarm, but the gaunt facebetrayed nothing, and the reading went on in Steve's boyish voice. 

Several days passed during which Miss Grace and Steve had beenconstantly with the prisoner, then his injured back was sufficientlyrestored to permit of his being raised in bed to a sitting posture, and Miss Grace felt it was time she tried to win his consent toSteve's remaining at school. With woman's intuition she divined thebest method of approach. Steve was not there and she told with simplepathos of the boy's love for his mother. Jim Langly had loved his wifewith all the mountain man's lack of expression, but the naturalportrayal of the boy's affection did not displease him. The old selfin fact seemed to pass out with that day of terrible fury and thesofter spirit which had taken its place seemed to linger. She went onto tell how the boy's mother had longed for him to have a chance tolearn, and that only a few minutes before her death she had made himpromise to go where he could learn. 

"It was this, " she ended, "which made Steve leave home and not the manwho sent the watch. "

Jim Langly lay silent a long while after hearing this, and then hesaid:

"I was agin that in her alive, I reckon I won't be agin her dead. "

After a little he inquired with resentment in his voice, "How comethat man whut give him the watch ter be with him here?"

"The boy happened to find the man, " she said, "and the man was good tohim when he needed a friend. But we will get Steve to tell us allabout it, " she ended brightly, as Steve came just then to the door. And with a glad heart the boy told all his story from the day he leftHollow Hut till his father's appearance a few days before. 

The president of the school then visited Langly, told of the boy'sprogress and begged earnestly that he be allowed to stay. Nothing wassaid as to how the boy's expenses were to be met, and since Jim Langlyknew as little as a child about the cost of such things, he asked noquestions. When strong enough at last Langly walked out a free man, the president having withdrawn all charges against him, and afterlooking about the buildings with strange interest he started back toHollow Hut, with no good-bye for his boy after the manner of themountains, but with an understanding that when school closed Steveshould return to his old home for the summer. 

It was some two months later when Mr. Polk carried out this promisewhich had been made the father, by taking the boy back to the woodswhere they had first met. He expected to camp there for a few days'fishing, and to arrange for Steve's safe return to the school in thefall, as happy plans of his own for the autumn would probably preventhis coming in person. 

When Steve left Mr. Polk he swung off down the well-rememberedmountainside with strange joy in his heart. He had felt a new kinshipfor his father growing upon him since he could remain at school in thefreedom of parental consent, and shy thought had come of reading aloudsometimes in the old Hollow Hut cabin from the pile of books under hisarms while his father smoked and listened, as he had in the beautifuldays when Miss Grace had tended him. 

But a few hours later he came slowly back up the same path with astricken look on his face. 

"Pappy's dead, too, " he said brokenly, when Mr. Polk stepped forwardin surprise and alarm to meet him. 

The boy sat down upon a log, dropping his books in a heap beside him, and his bent shoulders shook with sobs. 

Mr. Polk comforted him with silent tenderness for a time, thengradually drew out the story of Jim Langly's short illness of a weekfrom a virulent fever and his burial two days before. 

Together they went again next day to the cabin. Mirandy had married afew weeks previous and she and her husband were beginning family lifeanew in the old place. She had been stirred somewhat by the events ofthe year, and looked with interest upon Mr. Polk and Steve, the lattershowing plainly to her the touch of new surroundings, and when Mr. Polk told her he wanted to take the boy for his own and educate him, she said with a touch of bitterness:

"Tek him erlong; he won't nuver know nothin' here. "

So the two who had seemed bound from the first by close ties went awaytogether, Steve to spend the summer at the school, where a few werealways accommodated during the vacation, and Mr. Polk to wind up hisbusiness affairs in the South preparatory to a return to New York. Hehad formerly been associated with an uncle having large railroadinterests in the East, who had often urged his return. He now proposedto do so, taking advantage of opportunities still open to him. Thesehad been thrown away upon the breaking of his engagement with GraceTrowbridge, six years before, to take a position with a southernrailroad and wander restlessly among new scenes. 

X

STEVE DEVELOPS A MIND OF HIS OWN

In the autumn Mr. Polk's happy plans materialized. There was a weddingin a handsome New York City home, and Steve Langly arrived the daybefore for the festivities. At the ceremony he and Anita Trowbridge, the little sister of Miss Grace, were the attendants. They came infirst, Steve dressed as a page in a velvet suit which went well withhis clear, dark complexion, and little Nita, as she was called, tripped beside him in delicate pink as a fairy flower girl. They stoodon either side of a beautiful fox-skin rug with a history, upon whichthe bride and groom, slowly following, took their places to repeat thesacred vows which bound them for life. 

Steve and Nita, as the only children, spent the evening together, roaming about the house, Steve finding new interests everywhere. Helooked around at the rich furnishings and beautiful floral decorationswith appreciative eyes, seeming not at all out of place in suchsurroundings. A feeling of awkwardness and timidity might havepossessed so poor a boy reared anywhere else, but mountain-born as hewas, he accepted man's magnificence with the same tranquil spirit thathe did the shimmering silver of a mountain sunrise or the gorgeouscolour-triumph of its sunset. But he did not understand Nita. Shetried her most grown-up ways upon him, chatting after the manner of alittle society belle, and while she was so pretty that he loved tolook at her as he would have looked at a beautiful flower, he did notknow what to say to her. Having talked of many things, and being anardent little lover of pretty clothes, taken in with appreciative eyesthe handsome costumes of the guests, she sighed at last and said:

"Oh, I just love to go down Broadway, don't you, and see all thehandsome gowns on people as they pass, and look in at the storewindows!"

"I don't know; I nuver was there, " he answered with a touch of hismountain speech, and then she laughed a silvery, childish laugh andsaid:

"You funny mountain boy, " in a natural, frank way that made Stevesmile back and feel more at ease. 

After this they got on well as a couple of children, while Nita oftenexclaimed, "You funny mountain boy. "

Mr. And Mrs. Polk called him their boy with a new sense of parentageafter their marriage, and wanted to make him legally their son, butwhen it was proposed that he be known in the future as Stephen Polk, he looked far off into space a moment, and then as though his spirithad winged its way back into the wilderness of its birth, he droppedinto the old manner of speech and said:

"I thank yer, but I was born Langly, an' I think I ought ter dieLangly. "

They said no more, and soon decided to send him back to the mountainschool for his preparatory work at least, largely because Mrs. Polkwas strongly convinced this was best for the boy; so, during the nextsix years, he spent the school terms in the mountains and hisvacations in the north with his foster-parents. The last two summershe took work in a city university with special courses in geology andmining engineering, for Mr. Polk, knowing the rich treasures stored inthe Kentucky mountains, had brilliant plans for Steve's future, dreaming of a time when the boy should be able to link these treasureswith northern capital. 

Mrs. Polk's dreams were of another sort altogether. She never lostinterest in the cause of education in these same Kentucky mountains, and many were the talks she and Steve had about the progress beingmade there and the needs constantly developing. Engrossed in business, as Mr. Polk came more and more to be, he took no note of his wife'sindirect influence, while she did not realize that she wasinterfering with plans of his. 

As Steve grew to young manhood Mr. Polk asked him as often as studieswould permit in summer to go down to the office. He liked to give theboy a taste of the financial whirl, and it was intensely interestingand exciting to Steve. He felt something of the same tremor of wonderand delight over the inner whirl of gigantic machinery moving railroadsystems which stirred him when he felt the first rush of a passingrailroad train, and there was a certain eager desire to be a part ofit all. 

It was upon his sixth vacation visit that Mr. Polk turned to him oneday at the office as the boy's eyes glistened with interest and said:

"I shall want you at my elbow in a few years now. I shall be too oldafter a while to do all the things waiting to be done, and youremember your promise to climb that mountain of success for me whoseheights I never shall be able to reach. "

But the youth of nineteen suddenly looked afar as the boy of thirteenhad done when it was proposed that he change the old name of Langly, and a vision of rugged mountains and deep valleys which again spreadout before him were tracked by eager bared feet of poorly cladchildren hurrying towards the few schools which here and there dottedthe wilderness. He was silent, for a definite conflict had begun inhis soul. 

Mr. Polk noticed the silence, and with a restless energy which wasgrowing upon him, said to his wife that evening when they were alone:

"Look here, Grace, I am uncertain about Steve. That boy's unfathomable. Here I have been counting upon his going into business, and I knowbusiness appeals to him for I can see it in his eye, and yet when Ispoke to him definitely to-day he just looked off into space, " heended in disgust. 

Mrs. Polk laughed. "Well, you know, I have never been an enthusiastover money-making, and I don't believe Steve ever will be, --though hemay. "

"Why, look here, " her husband said impatiently, "if he gets a goodknowledge of geology and mining engineering, as I mean he shall, hecan locate and open up some good mines in those Kentucky mountainswhich will make us all rich. "

"Oh, " laughed Mrs. Polk again, "that doesn't stir me a bit. But when Ithink of every little yearning child of the mountains well shod, witha clean kerchief in its pocket, and trudging away to school frostymornings, then I begin to thrill. "

"Of course, " said Mr. Polk with impatient energy; "but money will helpbring that to pass. "

"Yes, but it isn't money alone that is necessary. They need anapostle of education, one of their very own who shall go among themopening their eyes to the world of knowledge and opportunity. "

"And you would like our Steve to be that apostle, as you call him, Isuppose. " Looking at her intently a moment, he softened and added, "Well, you are a dear, unworldly woman. " Then in sudden justificationof himself, he went on: "I am willing he should be an apostle too, butone with money, so he can bring things to pass. "

And he said no more to his wife, neither did he trouble Steve in theleast with definite propositions for the future, but in the latesummer of that year he remarked in a matter-of-fact way:

"Well, Steve, it must be college now for the next two years atleast. "

Whereupon Steve looked very sober and finally said: "Mr. Polk, youhave been so good to me I cannot even talk about it. I do want to goto college more than I can express, but great, strapping fellow that Iam, I ought not to accept your generosity any longer. "

"Now, son, " said Mr. Polk, with the tenderness he had given the littleboy years before, "I want to do for you as I would for my own. "

Steve said huskily, "I appreciate it deeply, but you know I couldn'tgive up my name, and it is just as hard for me to give up myindependence. If I go to college at your expense it must be with thedistinct understanding that I am to repay every penny spent for me. Forgive me, " he added with a smile, "I suppose it is my mountain bloodthat makes me want to be free. "

Mr. Polk, looking at the strong young face, knew that he must yield, and so the money was advanced for Steve's college expenses with theunderstanding that it was a loan. 

The two college years were busy and profitable ones for Steve. He wasfond of study and the regular courses of the school led him into newlines of interest while he still pursued his specialties of geologyand mining engineering. The companionship of young men and women ofinherited culture and opportunity of the best type was broadening anda fine means of general culture for him. Among the young women withwhom he was thrown there developed no special interest for him, thoughhe often wondered why. He, however, came to smile as he questioned hisown heart or was questioned by chums, while he said, "We of mountainblood are slow, you know, " and he failed to note how certain memoriesof soft yellow curls above a little white pinafore were so sacred thathe never mentioned them. 

He matured greatly in the two years, and at twenty-one wasbroad-shouldered from college athletics, six feet two in height, andhis abundant dark hair with a suggestion of curl at the ends crowned afine, clean-cut, somewhat slender face which in repose was serious, but possessed of a hidden smile which had formed the habit of flashingout suddenly, transforming his face with a peculiar radiance. 

For the Christmas holidays of his last year at college he went home tothe Polks as usual and one evening sat at the opera beside NitaTrowbridge in a little family party which included her. During all hiscomings and goings of the school years he had seen Nita with almostthe familiarity of a brother. She was the child of middle age, pettedand spoiled and much of a society butterfly as she developed intoyoung ladyhood, though a very lovable one. Mr. And Mrs. Polk weregreatly attached to her, and though it had not been hinted at, Steveknew that Mr. Polk would like nothing better than that they shouldmarry when he was established in business. How Mrs. Polk would feelabout it he was not so sure. Perhaps she doubted their congeniality oftastes. 

As Nita sat beside him on this evening she watched Steve's raptenjoyment of Wagner's beautiful, weird melodies. Between acts shesaid:

"How intensely you enjoy music!"

"Yes, " he returned, throwing off the spell with an effort, "I do. " Andthen with a reminiscent flash the smile broke over his face. "Iremember well where I heard the first music of my life. It was when Iwas twelve years old, and from a mountain fellow who had had notraining. But he simply made the banjo talk, as the darkeys would say, and reproduced with skillful touch and thrilling voice a fox huntwhich fairly set me crazy. 

"Then the next, " he went on, "was at a church, just a little later, and never will I forget how the deep-toned organ stirred my soul tothe very depths. " There was a quiet solemnity upon him as he said thiswhich Nita did not break for a moment. Then she said:

"How barren the mountains must be! You will never want to go thereagain, will you?"

"Barren!" he exclaimed in return. "I wish I were an artist in wordpainting and I would make mountain peak after mountain peak glow withrhododendron and laurel, fill the valleys with silver sunrise-mist toglorify their verdure for you, and then call out all the fur andfeathered folk and troops of mountain children from their foresthomes. You would not think it a barren country, " he concluded withsmiling eloquence. 

"Perhaps not, " she said slowly, "but to think of no good music, nopleasures, no, --anything that makes up our delightful living here, "she ended. 

"That is true, " he responded gravely, adding almost to himself, "butit must be carried to them through work and sacrifice by somebody. "

Then becoming conscious the next instant of the brilliant scene abouthim his smile flashed over his face again and he turned to her with:

"By the way, did you see an account in the papers of the wreckage of acar load of millinery in the Kentucky mountains a few days ago?"

"No, I did not, " she smiled back. 

"Well, there was a railroad wreck somewhere up there and a whole carload of millinery was sent out upon the four winds of heaven. Big hatsand little, such as women know all about and men can't even talk of, with all sorts of gorgeous flower trimmings, feathers and ribbons werescattered through the woods, and they say barefooted mountain womenflocked from every direction and decked themselves in the lateststyles of head-gear. "

Both laughed over the picture and Steve added:

"I suppose it would only need a procession of fashionable gownsparading the mountains to transform our women, while the sight ofswallow-tails and silk hats might do as much for the men, for likethe rest of the world we take up the superficial with ease, but"--sobering again--"to give our people a glimpse into the knowledgecontained in books, to waken us to life's highest harmonies and openour eyes to nature's beautiful hidden colours, is going to take a longtime, and as I said, somebody must work and sacrifice for it. "

He searched the beautiful face beside him for sympathetic understanding, but she only looked at him with wide eyes as the frivolous littlegirl had done years before, not comprehending, while she wanted to sayagain, this time a little wistfully, "You funny mountain boy. "

No conception of life translated into labour and sacrifice for others, such as he had begun to battle with, had ever come within her range ofthought, and the starting of the music again was welcome to themboth. 

At the end of two years Steve was graduated, having been thoroughlyprepared upon entering college, and when he returned to hisfoster-parents at the close of school they were greatly pleased withtheir boy. On the second night after his arrival Mr. Polk sat with himafter dinner and smoked in great satisfaction. But it was of shortduration. Steve had had a letter from his alma mater, the Kentuckymountain school, asking him to return as a teacher there the nextyear, putting forth strongly the need and opportunity for good. Hehad waited to talk the matter over with Mr. And Mrs. Polk beforedeciding, though it was pretty well settled in his own mind. He handedthe letter to Mr. Polk. 

"Of course you will not go, " said Mr. Polk, with decision, as soon ashe had finished it. "There is an opening for you in the office and Iam anxious for you to take hold at once. "

Steve looked afar again, as he had twice before when his fate wasabout to be settled for him, and Mr. Polk stirred impatiently. But theyounger man turned at once, this time with that sudden smile upon hisface, and said ingratiatingly:

"Mr. Polk, I am afraid I haven't any head for business, --I love booksfar better. I feel a premonition that I shall be stupid in business. "

"Nonsense, " said Mr. Polk, with quick irritation. "I don't believe it. You have never been stupid about anything. "

"I do not know, " Steve replied, serious again. "I have not been tried, I admit, and I must confess that business had a certain fascinationfor me as I have watched things stir in your office. "

"Of course, of course, " broke in Mr. Polk. "I have seen it in yourface. "

"But----" said Steve as promptly, and with a compelling earnestness inhis voice that made the older man hold himself in restraint. "Mr. Polk, I must tell you something before we go any further in thismatter. My barren boyhood has never faded from my mind. I cannot putit from me. I live it again in the thought of every little childhidden away in the mountains in ignorance and squalor. 

"There may be little ones of my own blood in the Hollow Hut home, " headded, and his voice dropped into a deep intensity which held themboth motionless for a moment; then, for relief, breaking it again withthat smile, he said: "I suppose it is the survival of our feudalmountain blood in me which makes me ready to go back to fight, bleedand die for my own. "

"It is simply a Quixotic idea you have gotten into your head that youshould go back to the mountains and spend your life trying to helpyour people, " Mr. Polk replied emphatically. 

"I don't deny you may be right, " said Steve patiently, "but I got theidea fixed when I was a boy there at school having privileges whichwere denied so many, and you know one is very impressionable in earlyyouth, and I confess that though for many pleasant reasons I havewanted to shake it off, I have been unable to do so. "

This roused Mr. Polk to instant combat. He rose and strode thefloor. 

Mrs. Polk stood in the doorway an instant just then, but wisely andnoiselessly slipped away. 

"That's all right to want to help your own, but the practical way todo it is with money, " he said vehemently. 

"I am not entirely sure, " returned Steve slowly. "I confess I may bemistaken--but I have thought and thought over this ever since youfirst proposed two years ago that I should go into business with you, and though, as I have said, I am still uncertain, I believe I ought togo there and work for my people. It will be ten years at least beforeI can do much in a monetary way, but I can begin teaching at once. Besides, " he hurried on before Mr. Polk could speak, "people thereneed indoctrination, --inoculating so to speak, with the idea ofeducation as much as they need money, and no one can do this so wellas one of their own. Thanks to you, the best friend any boy ever had, "he went on, his voice breaking a little, "I have had advantages whichhave fallen to the lot of few mountain boys, and I feel that myresponsibility is tremendous. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Polk, "but I do not agree with you as to the best wayof meeting it. However, " he ended hotly, "I see you are like mostyoung men of to-day whatever their obligations, you do not wishadvice. "

Steve was deeply hurt. "Mr. Polk, " he said, "I would rather give myright arm than have anything come between us. If it were a matter ofpersonal ambition, I would yield at once to your good judgment, but--please understand, --let me make this clear, --I am not sure thatgoing myself to work among my people is the best way, but I simplyfeel it should be tried first. If I should remain here a while, I knowI would never go there, and if I find that I am wrong in going, at theend of two years I will gladly return to you for business. "

"If you go, Steve Langly, contrary to my advice and better judgment, you go for good, " said Mr. Polk sternly, pausing in his striding andemphasizing with a stamp of his foot. 

Mr. Polk with his gentleness had always had a hot-headed, unreasonableside to his nature. It was seldom in evidence, but it had shown itselfyears before in his break with his sweetheart and it was showingitself again with the boy whom he loved most devotedly. 

Steve bowed his head in silent, dignified acceptance. Following aforceful law of human nature this unreasonable resistance (as he sawit) was fixing him very firmly in his own resolution. But the thoughtof all the older man had been to him rushed upon him again withsoftening effect, and he said sadly at last:

"I do not know how to make you understand, Mr. Polk, --but this need togo back to my own and try to help them is something inborn. "

"I am afraid it is, " said Mr. Polk curtly. "It is the mountainshiftlessness in you. "

Steve rose with flashing eyes and heaving breast, but rememberingagain, he controlled himself, and sat down. His voice was cool andcrisp, however, as he said a moment later:

"I have no intention of forgetting my debt to you, Mr. Polk, and youhave a right to know what are my prospects for paying it. " He namedhis salary, which was very meagre, and then added, "But my wants willbe few, --and I have found that my pen promises to be a pretty goodearning implement. " This he added with reluctance, for he had notmeant to tell it. "I shall pay you as soon as possible, " he ended. 

"Just as you please, " said Mr. Polk again curtly, and strode this timeout of the room for the night. 

Steve soon followed, going to his room with a sense of desolation thatwas akin to the desolation of his boyhood in the wilderness. He feltthat he must leave New York at once, for he could not stay longer withself-respect under the roof which had been home to him for so manyyears. What "little mother, " as he had come to call Mrs. Polk, wouldsay he did not know, but his heart warmed when he thought of her, andcomforted at last by the feeling that she at least would notmisunderstand him, he fell asleep towards morning. And in his fitfuldreaming her sweet face was strangely crowned with soft yellow curlsand she wore a little white pinafore!

The next day Steve had a long talk with Mrs. Polk. She had heard ofthe trouble from Mr. Polk, and had done all in her power to bringabout a change in his state of mind. Failing utterly and knowing histenacity when an idea was once fixed, she could not encourage Stevewith the hope of any immediate change. Neither could she urge theyoung man to abandon his purpose, for she felt that he alone mustdecide his future, and though in her heart she approved his course, sodeeply was she grieved over the alienation between him and Mr. Polkthat she held it in restraint. She knew that she had helped to shapehis determination, and woman-like was fearful now she had made amistake. 

When Steve said that he must go, she did not try to keep him, but hereyes were brimming with tears when he tenderly kissed her good-bye, ashe had always been in the habit of doing, and she pressed a roll ofmoney in his hand, whispering, "It is my own. "

"No, no, little mother, " he said with determined good cheer, "I donot need it. I was very economical the last few weeks at school, for Ihad forebodings of trouble; then, --I earned some money writing littlestories for boys, the past year. "

Scarcely noticing the last remark she hesitated a moment, wanting toinsist that he take it, and yet reluctant. Then she held him by theshoulders with her slender hands, and said earnestly:

"If you ever need, you will let me know, will you not?"

"I certainly will, dearest little mother in the world, " he said, hisown eyes glistening with tears. 

There was a formal leave-taking with Mr. Polk at the office, and thenhe went his way back to the mountains of his birth. 

XI

EXPERIENCE

As the train carrying Steve southward reached a point where ruggedpeaks began pushing majestically up into the distant firmament he feltagain the old thrill of the mountaineer's love of the mountains, whilehis trained eye noted with keen pleasure new details of line andcolour. Then, when the railroad trip was over and he neared the end ofthe forty-mile wagon ride, bringing the little tower surmounting "TheHall" of his alma mater in sight once more, his face lit up withtender joy, for the old place had meant more to him than schools do tothe average boy. Sweeping his eye back over a landscape where purpleheights were tipped with sunset gold in the distance, giant beechesheld aloft their summer leafage in the valleys and mountainflower-favourites bloomed in glorious June profusion everywhere, heinwardly exclaimed, with sudden reverence:

"That is God's part, the fashioning of this beautiful setting, " andthen turning again to the group of school buildings, "and this isman's, --the bringing of humanity into harmony with the perfection ofHis handiwork. "

He had been unable to throw off entirely the depression which hadfollowed the rupture with Mr. Polk, and deeply stirred emotionally ashe had been in parting with Mrs. Polk, it required this spiritualinterpretation of school life to restore his equilibrium. 

But the battle involved in the step he had taken was by no meansfought in that one flash of high conception. Being a wholesome, normal fellow with an ordinary amount of selfish desire for comfort(though he had seemed to follow a Quixotic idea into the wilderness), he found himself at once missing the luxuries of life to which hehad become accustomed. All through the summer he travelled about onhorseback, --sometimes on foot, --stopping often at little squalidcabins, and often also at meagre homes where housewives wrung hisheart with their pathetic effort to be thrifty and cleanly on almostnothing, and everywhere he tried to inoculate the people with the ideaof education. On the whole his experience proved more of a hardshipthan he had believed possible with his early mountain bringing up. He discovered that he had a decided liking for individual towels, andwas quite capable of annoyance when obliged to bathe his face in afamily tin wash-pan, --or temporarily idle skillet where wash-panswere unknown, --while his predilection for a bath tub with hot and coldwater on tap had become more fixed than he had suspected. 

"Have I already grown too fastidious to be helpful to my own people?"he asked himself in disgust. Then he squared his shoulders and set hislips in fresh determination. But, a moment later, with that suddensmile upon his face, he also resolved to compromise a bit withhardship. He stopped at the first wayside store and invested in towelswhich he learned to wash and dry at convenient times. This gave himpleasant independence, and since his bedroom had always been fixed inthe open, --for from the first he could not bring himself to sleep incrowded rooms where whole families took their rest, --he could make hismorning toilet without offense to his hosts, while a soapy plunge insome mountain stream became a luxury he would not readily forego. Andalways, whatever the hardship, there was the compensation ofbarefooted boys and girls held spellbound, and often fathers andmothers as well, while he unfolded the wonders of a world which laybeyond the mountain's rim, and always he had the advantage of beingable to assure them that he, too, was mountain bred. 

So, with contending against many things distasteful on one side, andexhilaration while little hands clung to his as his had clung to Mr. Polk's that long ago day in the heights about Hollow Hut, the summerpassed and he began his work as teacher. 

He had long known that he would enjoy teaching, and took up hisduties with keen interest. Fortunately for him he had little conceitor pedantry, which would have been a fatal handicap for him as teacheramong his own people, simple-hearted though they were. He organizedhis work with straightforward earnestness and quiet ability and thingsusually moved smoothly in his class room. But many old difficulties inthe life of the school with which he had seen the teachers battlingwhen he was a pupil promptly presented themselves afresh to test thetact, skill and wisdom of the young teacher. Some boys still came toschool with well-developed taste for tobacco and liquor which parentsstill indulged, and passing mountaineers often good-naturedlyfostered. Having helped to battle with these things as a boy he knewsomewhat how to handle them. But another matter of which he tooklittle note in his student days, but which had nevertheless alwaysbeen a difficult problem, was love-making in the school. He was sorelypuzzled how to wisely handle this. 

"Little mother, " he wrote Mrs. Polk, "my chief difficulty is laughablein a sense, but from another point of view it is really a stupendousproblem! One old mountaineer said to me last summer, 'Them schools isthe courtin'est places in the world. ' I begin to think he was right, and it is not always the superficial flirting and love-making which isa part of your coeducational schools, --a thing simply trivial andnaughty, --but often tragic passion instead, quite in harmony with thetitle of Dryden's play, 'All for Love, or the World Well Lost'!

"Really, these children of the woods hear the call to mate asnaturally as the birds in the trees, and knowing nothing of FifthAvenue brown stone fronts or cozy cottages at Newport, they want toleave school, gather twigs and build their nests at once. Andsometimes one feels as guilty in breaking up such prospective nests aswhen molesting a pair of birds!

"Am I getting to be something of a sentimentalist? Well, I assure youI am not going to let it grow upon me. I bear sternly in mind that, like the first pair of human beings in the Garden of Eden, they havereally eaten of the tree of knowledge and know some things which theyought not to know, --having some secrets from the rest of mankind whichare not at all good for them, --while the things they need to know forhigher, better living are so numerous, that I ruthlessly break thetenderest hearts, and insist on study and discipline; for nothing buteducation, mental, moral and spiritual, will ever bring the greatestpeople in the world, the people of the Kentucky mountains, into theirjust inheritance! You see how completely identified I am again when Iindulge in Kentucky brag, --which is not so different after all fromthe brag of other sections, and I promise not to let this grow upon meeither, for work and not brag is before me, as you know. I want you tosee, however, that I continue to feel the mountaineer is worth workingfor. 

"But to return to the love-making. Tragedy and comedy are in evidenceenough to lure me into the field of romance, but the practicalhindrances to daily school work are too absorbing for great indulgenceof my pen. Ardent swains pay open court to their sweethearts, promenading halls and grounds together and even pressing suit in theclass room! While frequently the crowning difficulty in the wholematter is the pleased approval of parents! Early marriage, you know, is most common in the mountains, girls of twelve and thirteen oftentaking up the duties of wives and the great desire of parents fortheir daughters is usually to get them early married off. 

"But, --I suspect this is all familiar to you, " he reminded himself, "and still I must tell it to you, --and let you laugh over a recentexperience I have had with a pair of lovers. 

"You may be sure that I have lectured most earnestly and scientificallyupon the evils of tobacco and liquor for the young, and also have setforth as tactfully and convincingly as I know how the fact that aschool is not the place for lover-like attentions, beseeching them togive themselves wholly to the business of acquiring knowledge whilethey are here, with all the eloquence of which I am capable. But, inspite of this, as I was leaving my recitation room at the close ofschool a few days ago I noticed a girl, Alice Tomby, lingering with JoeMott, one of her admirers, and stepping outside I found another admirerof hers standing beneath a near-by tree, with clenched fist andblazing eyes. 

"I knew that a typical mountain tragedy was quite possible andstopping casually a moment to look at my watch, I turned and went backto find the girl and her beau in a most lover-like attitude. 

"I threw my shoulders out to their broadest, and walked with all thedignity I could summon to my desk where I stood before them a momentin silence. Their sheepish faces were a study for the cartoonist, andI wanted to laugh more than I can tell you, but I finally saidgravely:

"'Miss Tomby and Mr. Mott' (the use of the last name with Mr. Or Miss, which is unusual in the mountains, is always most impressive), 'youare guilty of breaking a rule of the school. You must remain and writetwenty times each the sentence I shall put upon the board. '

"Then an old song came suddenly into my mind and I wrote withoutquiver of lash or hint of smile the silly lines:

 "'Frog went courting, he did ride, Sword and pistol by his side. '

"'That!' said the fellow, looking startled, while the girl hung herhead. 

"'Yes, that, ' I replied in perfect seriousness. And the two wrote thelines under my most calm, most dignified eye till they were thoroughlydisgusted with themselves and one another. When at last they went out, the girl tossed her head and ignored both her crestfallen and herjealous lover. With books under her arm she went alone straightway tothe boarding hall. 

"The story of the discomfited lovers is spreading in the school, andthe quotation of 'Frog went courting, he did ride, ' hilariously givenis quenching the ardour of many an amorous swain. Possibly a littlewholesome humour may after all be more helpful than stern enforcementof rules, and you know if there is one thing more than another wemountain folks lack, it is a sense of humour! So, even on generalprinciples, it will do no harm to cultivate it. 

"However, with all this cruel separation of tender hearts perhaps I amin a fair way to become a cynical old bachelor instead of asentimentalist. "

He was determined to write cheerfully, for he knew that she constantlygrieved over the alienation between Mr. Polk and himself, so hisletters usually held bright accounts of his work, though sometimes helet her have a glimpse of the struggle which went on in his heart. 

He wrote once after a contest with himself over natural desire formore congenial surroundings:

"Little mother, when things seem too sordid and commonplace and barrenfor endurance, as I confess they have a way of doing at times, I docrave a look into your dear face. But as I am too far away to see youclearly, I remember how you came down here and worked with dauntlesscourage and good cheer, and I take heart again. Then several thingsrecently have contributed to make me ashamed of faint-heartedness, andI really think I am going to develop some stronger fibre. 

"The pathos of the mountain desire for 'larnin" has come to meoverwhelmingly lately. A woman came on foot forty miles over themountains last week bringing her daughter and seven others ofneighbours and friends to the school only to find there was no roomfor them. But so great was the mother's distress and so appealing hersacrifice and hardship in making the trip that one of our ladyteachers took the daughter into her own room rather than see themother disappointed. A few days later two boys came in having driven apair of lean goats over thirty miles hitched to a rude cart, whichheld all the earthly possessions they could muster, the old father andmother walking behind, --all hoping to buy entrance to the school forthe boys. They, too, were disappointed, for we are full to overflowingthis year. Then to cap the argument for stout-heartedness on my part, I went for a stroll yesterday afternoon and came across a boy who ismaking one of the bravest fights for an education that I ever saw. Ifound him putting his shoulder to great boulders on the mountainside, rolling them down and then setting himself to break them in pieces foruse in paving our little town, --for you must know that under theinfluence of the school it is beginning to strive for generalimprovement. The boy, whose father is a worthless fellow, works atrock-breaking till he earns enough to go to school a while; then, whenthe money is gone, he returns to work again with a pathetic patiencewhich has stirred me deeply. 

"So, mother mine, when I long for a sight of your face, --and anold-time hand-clasp from Mr. Polk, as I assure you I too often do, orwhen I crave the feast of books and the quiet student atmosphere of acity library, I am simply going to think on these things in thefuture. "

The second summer in the mountains came on and was a repetition of thefirst. The school was getting more pupils than could be accommodated, it was true, but Steve felt that contact with the thought of educationwould help to further the general cause. Then, journeying aboutthrough the wilderness was also a means of gathering fresh materialfor his nature and hunting stories for boys. 

There was a distinct drawing towards the Follets in his subconsciousmind, the real objective of which he would scarcely admit to himself. He put from him suggestive pictures of curls and pinafores whichmemory and flitting dreams still flashed before him at times. He meantto go there some day for he wanted to express his gratitude for allthe kindness of the past, but the time had not yet come. He must notfor the present be diverted in the least from the purpose which wasoccupying him. He must repay Mr. Polk, --that was the thought whichdominated him, and to that end he was frugally gathering all the moneyhe could. As he had carried the fox skin through the wilderness when aboy, so now he carried the thought of that debt in his mind, and norobber in the form of pleasant indulgence should prevent him frommeeting his obligation. 

The second session passed, and he had learned how to handle hisdifficulties with better success, while his method of teaching wasmore definitely marked out and he found more leisure for the use ofhis pen. Fresh, bright stories with the breath of the mountains inthem began to find ready sale, and occasionally as his pen dipped abit into romance it brought more than ordinary returns. Upon the tideof this success came a strong temptation: Why not go to a distinctlyliterary atmosphere and make a business of literature? He felt aninward assurance of making good and a longing for the work which wasalmost overpowering. Money for the debt must continue to accumulatevery slowly when so much time must be given to the daily business ofteaching, for which he was very poorly paid, and he could not knowfreedom until that debt was paid. In literary work, too, he couldcombine the cause of mountain need with his daily task with equaleffectiveness in both directions, for could he not portray with greatpathos the mental, spiritual and material poverty of his people? Andhe stifled for the moment something within him which cried, "Othersmight do that, but never one of our own!" Beside all this it wasprobable, as Mr. Polk had said, that money was more sorely needed forschools than personal service and he believed by giving himself toliterary work he could earn it. He had never been perfectly sure thatgiving his life to teaching and personal work among his people was thebest method of helping them, so he need not feel chagrined by anyinconsistency. 

So great was the temptation which came to him at this crisis that hedetermined when the session closed to go for a visit to Mirandy'sfamily and from there to the Follets, with the thought that he wouldnot like to leave the mountains without seeing them, and it woulddoubtless be best to go east for his literary career. In thissatisfactory justification of the latter visit he allowed himself thefreedom of pleasant reminiscence about the spot where life first beganto really unfold for him. 

"Little Nancy, " he said to himself, "why she must be nineteen now, clothed in long frocks and maidenly dignity, I suspect, --but Icertainly hope she still wears the little white pinafores. " And hiseyes grew misty with a tenderness which he would have classified asbrotherly, had it occurred to him to question himself. Then he smiledsuddenly and said, "Yes, I must go and see about those pinaforesbefore I leave the mountains. "

He made the visit to Hollow Hut first, and in the ease of a saddleseat he reached the old familiar wood by a much more direct trail thanhe had followed when a boy. He halted his pony at last by the greatboulder where Tige lay buried. The tragedy of his grief on thatlong-ago morning when he had touched the stiffened body of his oldfriend came back to him with such vividness that, in spite of "Time'slong caressing hand, " he could not "smile beholding it. " He hitchedhis horse close by with a sense of the old dog's nearness andprotection, for he meant to camp on that spot during his stay as heused to do when a boy. Then he went on foot down the mountainside tohis old home in the hollow, little dreaming, as he passed along itsrocky fastness, that a "still" was hidden there. 

It was just dusk of an early June day, and cool shadows dropped theirsoft curtains about the old log house as he walked towards the doorunannounced. He stopped a moment at the grave of his father andmother, and then followed noiselessly the little worn path to thecabin. As he drew near, he saw the fitful light of blazing pine-knotson the hearth and caught the sound of boisterous laughter. Reachingthe door he stood a moment in the shadow of the outer darkness, beforestepping into the light. Then, --what he saw transfixed him! White tothe lips he watched a moment. 

A group of men, Mirandy's husband among them, surrounded a littlefellow about six years old, who, having been made reeling drunk, wastrying to walk a crack in the floor. The little victim swayed andtottered and struggled under the hilarious urging of his spectators. 

[Illustration: "Hit's Champ fer his pappy"]

Steve's first mad impulse was to snatch up the wronged child, and, ifnecessary, face the half-drunken men in battle. But this would beworse than useless his second sober thought told him, for there stoodMirandy looking carelessly on from the kitchen door behind. The childwas doubtless hers, and the father was taking part in the revoltingdeed! What could he do? He knew they would brook no interference. 

With hard-won self-control he stepped upon the threshold, courteouslylifted his hat and bade them "Good-evening. "

Instantly the men turned and pistols clicked, for they thought him arevenue officer; but Mirandy, looking into his still boyish face whichhad caught the light, while his unfamiliar figure was in shadow, exclaimed:

"Don't shoot! Hit's Steve, my little buddie Steve!" And she steppedacross the room to him in a way which showed she was capable of beingstirred into action sometimes. 

The men looked uncertain, but Mirandy's husband, peering into Steve'sface a moment, said:

"Yes, that's right, hit's Steve Langly, though I'd nuver knowed ye inthe world, " and the other men dropped back. 

The child in the centre of the room looked about with dull eyes, thendropped to the floor in a pitiful little drunken heap. 

With his heart wrung to the point of agony, Steve stepped forward andstooping down lifted it tenderly to his breast. In the old home thatlittle boy represented himself, as he used to be. When he could speakhe said in a voice which trembled upon the silence:

"This is my little nephew, is it not?"

And Mirandy cried out sharply to her husband, without answering thequestion:

"Ye shan't nuver do that no more, " and the men slunk out one by one, ashamed, rebuked, sobered, though they could not have told why. 

Steve turned as they left and sat down, still holding the child to hisbreast. Then gently releasing his hold with one hand he tenderlypushed back the damp hair from the little swollen face, while Mirandystood by, the tears dropping down her cheeks, --a thing most unusualfor a mountain woman. And she said again passionately, "Champ shan'tnuver make him drunk agin. "

"What is his name?" asked Steve at last. 

"Hit's Champ fer his pappy. The bigges' one--he's outdoorssome'eres, --he's named Steve, " she said in mollifying tone. "He wasborned the nex' winter atter you was here, an' you'd been sech alikely lookin' boy I thought I'd name him fer ye. "

"That was good ev you, Randy, " said Steve dropping tenderly into theold form of speech. "I'll be glad ter see my namesake. Air the two allye hev?"

"No, thar's the baby on the bed; she's a little gal, " Mirandy replieddully. "Then there's two on 'em that died, when they was babies. Wewomen allus gits chillun enough, " she said, in a whining voicepeculiar to the older women of the mountains which she had alreadyacquired. 

Steve remained a month and it was the most trying time of his life. When he learned of the "still, " which he did very promptly, despairfor Mirandy, her husband and the children filled his heart. ChampBrady was always under the influence of his "moonshine, " and Steveknew it was perfectly useless to try to dissuade him from making orusing it. Mirandy had his own distaste for it, but she had beenaccustomed to the thought of its free use all her life, and how couldhe make her listless mind comprehend its danger for her children? Nottrusting her emotion and passionate protest the day he came, he talkedwith her earnestly many times and made her promise to do all she couldto keep the children from it. 

He took the two little boys, Steve and Champ, with their dog, everyday up to the old haunt by Tige's rock, where he camped every night. He had brought picture books with him, illustrated alphabets andone-syllable stories with the thought of possible need for them. Andthe brown eyes of the two little fellows, so like his own in the olddays, as he well knew, in their blankness and wonder, gave eagerresponse to new things. He called the spot "our school, " and the twolittle pupils soon learned their letters, while in a month's timelittle Steve was reading simple stories telling that "The dog is onthe mat, " and "The cat is on the rug" with great exhilaration, andspelling out laboriously more complex things. 

But Champ Brady was restless under the visit. He told Mirandyfrequently that he had no use for a fellow who hadn't enough stuff inhim to drink good liquor when it was put before him; and Steve, knowing well his state of mind without hearing any expression of it, went sadly away from the cabin at Hollow Hut for the third time. 

After a last earnest talk with Mirandy, he took the little boys to theold spot where they had kept school and he had camped for the monthand put into the hands of Steve the second a German silver watch whichhe had also brought with the thought of a boy in the old home again asa possibility. 

"This little shining ticker will tell you each day that you are goingto make big, strong men who know things one of these days. You willlisten to it always, will you not?" he said, and each in turn, as hewas held up in the tender arms, promised earnestly with queer achingin their little throats. Then Steve set them down and rode away, looking back again and again with a waving hand at the two soberlittle figures as long as they were in sight. 

"Oh, God of the wilderness, " he cried, when at last he saw them nomore, "Thou didst come and comfort me when I wandered here alone; oh, now give me assurance that Thou wilt watch over these two of my ownblood and bring them into the light. "

The prayer went up in despair akin to that of his boyhood's desolationand again, after a time, a sense of comfort and peace flooded hissoul, while, in its full tide, a fresh resolve was fixed upon him:

"I will give my life to the work. Not money alone, please God, if Ishould make it, but my daily breath and life and vigour shall go forthe uplift of my people of the mountains!"

And he smiled to think that literature should ever have appealed tohim, for a sense of linking himself to the Almighty God to whom he hadprayed had come to him in the holy stillness of the wilderness, makinganything else seem trivial beyond compare. 

He did not go to the Follets as he had intended, but made his wayslowly back to the school, stopping at cabins here and there as inprevious summers, chatting with the people, getting into their lifeand giving them visions as no alien could have done. 

On this trip he passed a great coal mine and here he spent a couple ofweeks watching the work with great interest. He carefully examined thevarious strata of the excavation and studied the practical working ofthe mine with keen intent, his college course having given him amplepreparation for its intelligent comprehension. 

Suddenly a bright thought struck him. 

"Look here, " he said to himself, "why not locate a mine here in themountains, as Mr. Polk used to talk of my doing, buy the land for afew hundred dollars, as I am sure I can in some localities, and thenmake it over to Mr. Polk? He will know how to handle it, and if it isvaluable will certainly make it pay. With another year's work I canhave the money, and by that means I can cancel that debt with one fellstroke, perhaps, " he went on jubilantly, --and if it proved to do somany times over, he would only be the more rejoiced, he thought. 

XII

LOVE'S AWAKENING

Full of this happy inspiration Steve went back to his work, determinedto gather during the year a sum sufficient to make his purchase, so asto be ready for the next vacation when he would be free to goprospecting. Under the stimulus of this good hope he worked with greatabsorption, only allowing himself the recreation of a weekly letter toMrs. Polk, which he never failed to send, continuing to put into itall the interesting and amusing things which came into his work, --andthey did come in spite of the seriousness of his life. 

Oftentimes in brooding thought he went back to the little Steve whowas duplicating his own early life in the old home. He had consideredmountain educational work hitherto in the large; he began now to thinkof it from the nucleus of the home. How he would like to see the oldspot of his boyhood redeemed by an ideal home life! And the thoughttouched many latent springs of his manly nature, calling forth dim, sweet visions of domestic love and beauty. 

But he hushed nature's appeal peremptorily, he thrust back thevisions with the firm decision that he had no leisure for dreams, andcontinued his many-sided work through another winter with accustomedconstancy. It was in the early spring of that year when an unexpectedtelegram came to him from Mrs. Polk. It read:

"Meet Nita and myself at L---- to-morrow, 7 A. M. Train". 

How the brief message thrilled him! He had plodded so long alone. Hesprang up from his place at the breakfast table where the message hadbeen handed him, his eyes shining and his step buoyant. Securing leaveof absence from school duties for a couple of days, he went at once tohire a team which would take him forty miles over the mountains to therailroad station. 

Forty miles! With a good team and a buoyant spirit they seemed littlemore than so many city blocks. To look into the face and talk oncemore with the "little mother" would renew his enthusiasm for his work. She must have known that he was growing dull and spiritless with thelingering winter days, --she had such a wonderful way of diviningthings. His eyes grew misty with tender recollection of her. 

And Nita, --beautiful Nita Trowbridge, --when she should step out in theearly morning light, it would be like flashing his glorious mountainsunrise upon some artist's masterpiece! And he was hungry for thebeauty and grace and charm of the city which she embodied. Yes, it wastrue, there was no denying it! And fast and faster sped the retreatingmiles under his joyful expectations till the journey was ended, anight's refreshing sleep had passed and he stood at last at the littlestation, restlessly pacing up and down the platform, with eye and earstrained to detect the first hint of the incoming train. 

Next he was rushing into the rear sleeper!

"Little mother!"

"Steve!" were the greetings as he took Mrs. Polk in his arms while theeyes of both brimmed with tears. Then turning quickly to Nita, hegreeted her with less demonstration but with equal warmth. 

Catching up their hand-bags he hurried them out, for through trainsshow scant respect for mountain stations, and leading the way to hiswaiting vehicle he helped Mrs. Polk in with easy confidence, thenturned to Nita. What was it about her that made him instantlyconscious that the spring wagonette was very plain, the newness longgone and that the horses, with abundant manes and tails, lackedtrimness and style? He started to apologize for his turnout, thenquickly set his lips. If he must begin apologizing here, where wouldit end?

"This is just a mild forerunner of the heights before you, " he saidlaughingly, as he carefully helped her mount the high step beforewhich she had stood uncertainly. 

But the trip proved equally delightful for them all. The mountain airwas bracing, the morning panorama spread out before them, gloriouslybeautiful as it always was, brought constant delighted exclamationfrom both Mrs. Polk and Nita while Steve found fresh enjoyment intheir pleasure. 

The little cabins which came into view on the way, standing bare andbarren by the roadside, or looking out from forest recesses wherethere was hardly a road to follow, or clinging to some lofty "bench"upon the mountainside, all were fronted by poorly clad children gazingin solemn, open-mouthed interest while the strangers passed. 

"Dear little things, " said Mrs. Polk, "they stand in mute appeal to usto open a path for them out into our world, --to take them into thefold of our larger brotherhood. "

Steve looked back into her bright, earnest face with kindling eyes, while Nita turned from one to the other with the old childish wonderagain in her face. These mountain folk were a new species to her, interesting and amusing perhaps, but from whom she instinctivelyshrank. Not that she was in the least disdainful, she was of toosweet a nature for that, but she had no conception of a divine bond ofhuman kinship which could ever include her and them. 

They spent the night at a mountain village, breaking the long drivefor the ladies, and the next day reached the school where Stevedaily gave his best, and which was so dear to Mrs. Polk. Duringthe two days following, as during the trip, Steve made them ascomfortable as possible, still making no apologies for anything, and indeed no apology was necessary, for Mrs. Polk had known what toexpect, and the royal hospitality which glorified it, while Nitaaccepted the one with simple good taste and the other with real, ifnot genial, appreciation. The visit was full of interest for Mrs. Polk as she noted the growth of the work, and Nita went aboutthrough school buildings and grounds, her beauty and tastefulattire making her a most observed visitor. Nor did she fail to showinterest in the work, thoroughly courteous and kindly, and yetwhich somehow seemed detached. 

As Steve followed her with admiring eyes and sincere regard, he couldnot help seeing most clearly that she could never fit into themountain landscape. He thought whimsically of Mr. Polk's dreams forher and himself and knew that though he could have remained in herworld and found happiness, she could never have come into his. Hisearly intuition had not been at fault; she would never touch theheight, breadth and depth of universal womanhood with its vision andits sympathy. 

Just before leaving, the two visitors spent a recitation period inSteve's class room, and so eager was he to reveal the best in hispupils that he did not dream he was also putting forth the teacher'sbest. 

When the pupils had filed out and the three stood alone, Mrs. Polkmade a gay little bow, and said with glistening eyes:

"Bravo, Sir Knight of the Mountains, you have certainly won yourspurs, --though they be of civilian make!"

He smiled in return, brought back to a consciousness of himself, butturning from it instantly again, he inquired:

"And what do you think of my brother knights?"

"They are equally fine, " said Mrs. Polk warmly. 

"They are indeed, " joined in Nita, "but how you have penetrated thehopeless exteriors of these people, as we saw them on our way here, found the germs of promise and developed them, will always remain anunfathomable mystery for me, " she declared. "I confess I understandyour skill less than I do that of the sculptor who makes the marbleexpress beauty, thought and feeling, --and his work would be infinitelymore to my taste. I think nothing more distasteful than contact withpeople can be, --and when it must be daily----" She shrugged hershoulders in conclusion expressively. 

Steve smiled back at her for he knew she did not think of him as oneof these people with whom she could not bear the thought of dailycontact. 

"Now confess, don't you get dreadfully tired of it all?" shepersisted, looking with real appeal into his face as though she woulddraw him away from it if she could. 

"Unspeakably, sometimes, " he smiled back again, then looking beyondher over the mountains he added simply, "but I belong here. "

And uncomprehending as she would ever be, she turned at last lightlyaway and walking to the outer door stepped out upon the campus, leaving her sister and Steve for a little talk alone, which she wassure they would like. 

When she was gone, Mrs. Polk laid a hand upon Steve's arm and saidsoftly: "Some day, Steve, everything will come right, " lookingexpressively into his eyes, and he knew she meant between himself andMr. Polk, a subject that had not been mentioned since she came. "Icatch beautiful prophecies sometimes of all this human desertblossoming as a rose, " she went on with her old gay enthusiasm, "and Iam fully persuaded now, as I never have quite been since you left us, that you have chosen your work wisely. I had to come at last and seefor myself. 

"But are you going to live your life alone, Steve, dear, " she askedafter a moment wistfully, "with no sweet home ties?"

"I do not know, little mother, " he said gravely. His mind wentinstantly to the old cabin home and little Steve, but he couldn't telleven her of the family life there now, --nor yet of the mystic visionwhich had intruded upon his brooding thought. 

His sudden smile flashed over the seriousness of his face as hereplied at last, "I have been too busy and too poor to think about itso far. "

She did not smile in return, but catching both his hands in hers shelooked up at him with motherly insistence, and asked:

"Have you never loved any dear girl? Is there no sweet face thatsometimes steals into the little home which nestles always in everytrue man's innermost heart?"

Her strong mother-love had surely lent her a mystic's insight andcompelling power!

Instantly into the dim outline of the vision of his brooding thoughtwhich he had hitherto constantly thrust aside, came with adistinctness that startled him, a childish face framed in yellow curlsabove a little white pinafore!

He caught his breath with the vividness of it, then pulled himselftogether and looking down into the dear eyes of the woman who had beenmore than second mother to him, and who thereby had won the right toquestion him, he said with a curiously puzzled look:

"Why, I do not know, --perhaps so, "--then, as she still looked intentlyat him, "you have startled me. I have become such a stupid grind, Iguess I need waking up. I will commune with myself, as I have neverdone before, and let you know what I discover, " he ended morelightly. 

She knew that a revelation had come to him in that moment and wascontent without further questioning. With a last gentle, lovingpressure for his hands she released them and they walked out togetherto join Nita. 

Their team was soon ready and after another long, pleasant drive Stevewas watching the departing train from the little station platform. Hefelt keen regret as it bore his friends out of sight, but he turned tohis team for the homeward drive with a strange exhilaration in hisheart. He had hardly been able to wait for that communion withhimself, and when the opportunity came there was no uncertainty inits tenor. 

"Of course I love Nancy Follet! I have loved her ever since I firstset eyes upon her sweet little face, --and it has come before me alwaysin any stress of mind or heart as though to tell me she was always tohave part in my life. And yet I have been so dull I did notunderstand. She preëmpted my heart from the first and that is why Idid not love beautiful Nita Trowbridge, --why I have never been able tolook at any girl with a spark of interest since. " How he loved tolinger over the revelation which had come to him! It was like havingemerged from a desert into a land flowing with milk and honey. LittleNancy! She had been so gentle, so confiding, so eager to help him withthings, --she would be his dear helper in the work of his life, --andthe work would thereby be glorified beyond measure! Under the spell ofhis tender musing the forty miles again sped by unheeded and he wasback once more at the schoolroom door. 

It was well that his tasks for the year were well-nigh over, for he atonce became consumed with the desire to see Nancy in the maturity ofher girlhood. He promptly decided that he would go as soon as schoolclosed and win her promise before he went on that prospecting tour. Inthe meantime his mind continued to hover over the hours they hadspent together as boy and girl. He went to mill once more walkingbeside a little fairy figure on old Dobbin's back, --he caught thefragrance of shy flowers which nestled in cool woodland depths, andmemory let softly down the bars into a holy of holies as the littlegirl said again in her sweet innocence, "Steve, let's build us a housein this wood and live here always. " He mounted the rugged steeps ofGreely's Ridge, her strong protector, while she reached down once morea timid little hand to hold his tightly, --and suddenly he was startledwith remembrance of the character of that ridge. It must have heldminerals! Coal, yes, coal, --he was sure of it! There was the piece ofland he had been wanting to find!

And so with buoyant, twofold hope he started as soon as school was outtowards the Follet home, having deposited in the bank a sum which hefelt would be sufficient to purchase the Greely Ridge, should he findit as valuable as he suspected and no one had preceded him in itsdiscovery. 

XIII

OLD TIES RENEWED

It was mid-afternoon of a late June day when Steve stopped at Mr. Follet's store. He wondered if his old friend would be there. Yes, thedoor was open, and for a moment Steve stood on the platform in front, his tall figure erect, his head bared as he looked reverently towardsthe little home which had opened the world of books to him. Then Mr. Follet's high voice rang out from the dark depths where dry-goods andgroceries rioted in hopeless confusion as of old. 

"Hello, stranger, what's the time o' day?"

Steve stepping forward put out an eager hand, and cried:

"Mr. Follet, don't you know me?"

But the man only stared, coming forward into the light of thedoorway. 

"Never saw you before, " he declared at last; "or if I did, can't tellwhere under the cano_pee_ 'twas. "

Steve laughed with keen enjoyment at hearing the familiar oldexpression, and said eagerly:

"Don't you remember Steve, little Steve Langly who worked for you onesummer?"

"Steve!" exclaimed Mr. Follet; "of course I do; nobody at my househas forgotten him, not by a jugful, --but this ain't Steve!"

"This _is_ Steve though, Mr. Follet, --the same Steve, with just asgrateful a heart for you and Mrs. Follet as I had the day I left youabout a dozen years ago. "

"Well, this does beat me, " said Mr. Follet. "We'll lock right up andgo over to the house. My wife and Nancy will be powerful glad to seeyou if they can ever think who under the cano_pee_ you are. " And hestepped briskly about locking up, and then the two walked over to thehouse. 

Mrs. Follet was seated on the piazza with some light sewing when theycame up, and to Mr. Follet's excited introduction of Mr. Langly shemade polite but unrecognizing acknowledgment, and her husband was tooimpatient to delay his revelation. 

"Why, ma, you don't tell me you don't know Steve, " he exclaimed. 

"Steve, " returned Mrs. Follet bewildered. 

"Why, yes! little, old, scrawny, mountain Steve, " exclaimed Mr. Follet, "who did everything that was done here one summer!"

Then Mrs. Follet slowly grasped the astonishing thought that littleignorant Steve and the fine-looking young man before her were one andthe same, and gave him gentle, motherly greeting. 

"Where's Nancy?" went on Mr. Follet, impatiently. 

"She's gone with Gyp for a gallop, " returned Mrs. Follet, "but sheought to be back any minute now. " And by the time they had exchangedbrief accounts of the years that had passed since they last met, Nancywas seen swaying gracefully down the road upon her pony's roundedback. She waved gaily as she passed the porch not noticing thestranger who was somewhat screened by hanging vines, and then sheturned into the lane which led to the stable. 

Steve's eyes glistened at the vision of the girl which time had socharmingly matured, and starting up he exclaimed:

"Let me meet her at the stable where I used to help her on and off oldDobbin's back, " and with a bound he was off the porch and stridingtowards the lane. 

Nancy had slowed her pace along the shady driveway, and Steve, goingnoiselessly through the grass, was at her side when she was ready todismount. 

Smilingly he held out his hand for her to step upon, his glowing eyeslifted to hers. Startled she drew back, her eyes held and fascinated, however, by his intent gaze. 

For a long instant they gazed, and then she breathed:

"Oh, Steve!"

Had the meeting occurred otherwise, she probably would never havetaken the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome young fellow for the Steveof her childish memory, but she only saw and recognized those browneyes lifted to hers as they used to be in the old days when he tookher from Dobbin's back, with the same tender light in them. 

"Yes, Nancy, it's Steve!" he exclaimed joyfully. "And you knew meafter all these years!"

A smile that held something sweet and sensitive flashed assent, andthen in reaction from the stir of undefined feeling, which she was notready to acknowledge, her eyes danced with sudden humour. Keeping hersaddle she glanced behind her to the pony's back, and said:

"Where are our bags of meal?"

Steve laughed in responsive gaiety, and in spite of himself let hiseyes rest upon her in kindling admiration. 

"Oh, I see good grist which the mill of time has ground for you, " hesaid, and put out his palm again for her to step upon. 

But she, flushing with girlish surprise at his ready gallantry, whichshowed how completely the little mountain boy had been lost in thecultured man, drew back once more and with equal quick wit said, laughing:

"You will certainly find it has, and in good, substantial material ifyou try to take my weight in your hand. "

"The same mill has ground out for me an adequate amount of muscle, " hedeclared, adding with a hint of pleading in his voice, "You must letme renew old times, " and without further protest she lightly touchedhis hand with her foot as she sprang from the pony's back. 

"Weight doesn't count with so light a touch as that, " laughed Steve, and started to lead the pony into the stable, when a coloured boystepped up to care for it. 

"You see we keep a groom these days, " said Nancy. 

"Yes; what style the mountains are taking on, " returned Steve, asNancy gathered up the long skirt of her riding habit, and the twowalked together through the grass to the porch. 

"To what an astonishing height you have grown, " said she with naivecharm, looking up at him. 

"You have done equally well, " he returned, measuring with his eye herslender length; then he added with his sudden smile which held thewhimsical quality of old friendship, "Please tell me, --where are thecurls?"

"Oh, they are tucked snugly away out of sight, " said she demurely, with a pretty gesture which straying tendrils had made habitual, andthe warm colour rising again to her face. 

"There should be a law against carrying curls concealed, " said he. 

By this time they were at the porch, and as they resumed the familyexchange of items of interest from each side, Steve and Nancy sittingon the steps as in the old days, he saw the fair dream-structure ofthe past few weeks in the beginning of complete realization. 

In the evening as Mr. And Mrs. Follet, Steve and Nancy sat again onthe porch enjoying the night air after a warm day, they talkedinterestedly of old times and the changes which had taken place. Steve found that Crosscut, the little flag station over which Mr. Follet presided, had expanded into a small straggling town with ameeting-house, school of uncertain sessions and a thriving saloon. 

As they chatted pleasantly a young man turned into the gate and cameup the path with a debonair swing that proclaimed him much at home. 

"Howdy everybody, " he said jauntily, and Nancy rose with pleasantgreeting for him. Then turning to Steve she introduced Mr. Colton toMr. Langly. 

Steve met the newcomer with quiet courtesy, while Mr. Colton respondedwith cordiality of the "hail-fellow-well-met" type, and immediatelyseated himself beside Nancy with an air of proprietorship. 

Very soon Mr. Follet in the course of conversation turned andaddressed Steve by his first name. 

"Steve!" exclaimed the visitor. "Didn't Miss Nancy introduce you to meas Mr. Langly? Are you Steve Langly who visited Louisville with a Mr. Polk some ten or twelve years ago?"

"I am, " said Steve with much surprise. 

"Is that so?" returned Mr. Colton with enthusiasm. "Well, I am RaymondColton!"

"Indeed, " exclaimed Steve heartily. "Well, this is pleasant. "

"I should say so, " returned Raymond. "I tell you, old fellow, we neverforgot that lickin' you gave us at our school--served us right and didus good. " He launched into a hilarious account of that experiencewhich everybody enjoyed, and there was a little pleasant, generalconversation. Then Raymond suddenly exclaimed:

"Miss Nancy, where's your banjo?" and went at once for it. 

"I tell you, Steve, she can play on the old banjo and sing as no oneelse ever did, " he said as he returned and laid it in her lap. 

Nancy turned to Steve with a quick flush which showed even in themoonlight and protested: "I really don't know a thing about it, onlywhat father taught me when I was a little girl. "

And Mr. Follet said excitedly, "You see, Steve, she was so lonesomeafter you left I had to get the old thing down to cheer her up. Ihadn't played any on it since I was a young fellow courtin' hermother. I don't believe I'd ever got her without that banjo, " he addedand laughed with great good humour. "Nancy don't think much of it, " hewent on. "She thinks it's nothin' beside the piano, but Raymond, here, is like me, he thinks it beats the piano all hollow. "

"Sing 'Robin Adair, '" put in Raymond, and Nancy began striking softminor chords for a little prelude. Then a rich, contralto voice, lowand clear, told the tender old story of Robin Adair and his love, which the banjo echoed with little improvised hints of the air. Raymond and Mr. Follet called for one song after another of the oldfavourites, Raymond often joining in with a fine tenor, whichharmonized perfectly with Nancy's contralto. At last she sang of herown accord "The Rosary. "

There was an exquisite pathos in the beautiful, heart-breaking notesthat stirred Steve deeply. What depth of feeling, as well as maidenlyreserve and charm, his little Nancy had developed! The curls andpinafores were gone, it was true, but as he watched her sweet, expressive face in the moonlight and felt the fullness of her sympathyand understanding in the singing, he said to himself, "I am willing tolose them for this!"

"Miss Nancy, please don't ever sing that any more; it gives me theshivers, " said Raymond and was seconded by Mr. Follet. 

"It's bedtime for old folks, anyhow, " the latter went on, and added, "I guess Steve's tired enough to go, too, " and though Steve was notready to admit this, Raymond gave him gay good-night and he followedhis host to the little attic room where he had slept as a boy, andwhich Mrs. Follet had made ready for him, because he had insisted thatit was just the place for him. The house was small and he knewsomebody must vacate comfortable quarters if he slept elsewhere. 

But once in the old bed Steve did not find fair memories crowdingabout as he had anticipated. Even the echoing sweet songs lost theirmelody. Indeed he could think of nothing but the fact that Nancy andRaymond Colton sat together on the front porch, left there by herparents as though he had special rights. A midnight thunder-stormcaught up his perturbed thought with noisy energy. 

"But why not!" he exclaimed sadly for the hundredth time to hisrebellious heart. "You certainly have no claim. "

But that lately aroused, throbbing fountain of love's pulsationsreplied with vehemence: "I have! I have loved her every moment since Ifirst looked upon her as a little girl, and I love her in her sweetmaturity with all my soul. She is mine!"

So the wordy war went on between his good sense and his yearningheart, banishing every dear, cherished memory and postponing sleeptill the wee morning hours. 

Next day after the breakfast dishes were done, Mrs. Follet proposedthat Nancy take Steve for a ride with Gyp and the family horse over tothe Greely woods, their old favourite haunt, and this exactly suitedSteve, for, in spite of the night's disturbance, nothing could pleasehim more than an opportunity for companionship with Nancy alone, andhe was still impatient to see if his memory of that rugged ridge ofwoodland was correct. 

He went out at once to saddle the horses. It was a crisp, cool, clearmorning after the storm, and Nancy soon appeared in a trim ridinghabit and cap with deep visor to shade the eyes. The severe lines anddark blue of her costume made charming contrast to her softly roundedface, with its delicate colouring and the stray yellow tendrils ofhair which were always slipping out from the fluffy braids whichbound her head. She surely was fair to look upon, and when Steve hadassisted her to mount in the old way, --holding out his hand and shestepping upon it in laughing ease, --she sat her pony with the gracefulpoise of the true Kentucky girl, making a picture which less partialobservers than Steve could not have failed to find full of charm. Theycantered off briskly down the road. 

When they reached the wood Steve grew keenly reminiscent, as hadbecome his habit the last few weeks. Forgetting Raymond completely, the past came back to him vividly; he seemed to feel again Nancy'sconfiding trust in him, --and he yearned to know how clearly sheremembered. He looked often upon her as she rode beside him, the twohorses touching noses in the narrow path, but the delicate facerevealed nothing. 

"Do you remember, " he said at last, "what a veritable slave you madeof me in this old wood?"

She laughed brightly and replied, "Why no, I haven't any suchrecollection. "

"Well, you knew even then just how to do it, " he returned with a bitof insinuation. "You would look up at the tallest, hardest tree toclimb and see some high-hanging blossom which you coveted, and Iimmediately scaled the tree's height to lay the blossom at yourfeet. "

She laughed again and her cheeks this time flushed a rosy hue, unaccountably disconcerting to her. 

"But that, after all, was as it should have been, " he went on after amoment, smiling. "We men need your bidding to send us to the heights, always. "

"I do not agree with you, " she said, recovering her poise instantly;and summoning a girlish perversity, she led him straightway fromsentiment to the substantial. "Each one must mount up in his ownstrength, like these splendid old trees, without prop or help, onlythe light from above to draw it upward, " and a very demure lookcrossed her ever-changing face as she finished the little speech. 

"You are right, " said Steve smiling and remembering Mrs. Polk's lessonfrom the giant beech so long ago. "And yet, after all, many thingshelp the tree in its growth besides the light from above, --the sun. There are the winds and the rain, and"--he paused a moment, --"itsmates. Don't you know a tree rarely stands alone unless man has cutdown its companions. They like comradeship. I believe they aredependent upon it in ways we do not know. "

"How stupid of me to forget I was talking with a professor, " saidNancy archly. 

"And worse still for me to forget that I was trying to enlighten thelady who initiated me into the world of books, " replied he promptly, yielding to her mood. 

"Oh, how lovely that graceful, clinging vine is, " she exclaimed, ignoring his retort and pointing up to a vine covered tree, whileSteve thrust back into the secret place of his heart all the cherishedmemories which the old wood held for him, realizing decidedly thatNancy was no longer a shy, timid little girl ready to place her handin his, but a young woman who would need to be wooed before she waswon, --even though there were no Raymond. 

"What had he expected anyway?" he reiterated sternly. "That she wouldbe waiting his coming, all ready for the plucking?" He straightenedhimself in the saddle. He had long since learned how to work and waitfor things he wanted; he could do it again. 

He led the conversation away from the personal. They talked of nature, each finding under the spur of companionship many new interests in theold wood; and being a devoted nature lover, Steve was pleased to findthat Nancy had added to her tender interest in the feathered folk muchinformation as to peculiar characteristics of varying species. It wasan easy transition from nature to nature's interpreters, the poets, and the two found mutual interest in recalling some choice things ofliterature. She had spent four years at a fine old Kentucky college, graduating in June with high honours. There was still a sweetseriousness about her as in the little Nancy of old, in spite of hergirlish gaiety, and while the years of study had brought her anunmistakable breadth and culture, there was also a quaint freshness ofspeech and manner that made her especially attractive. Steve foundkeen satisfaction in the conversation, for the girl understood hisview-point and yet had fresh conceptions of her own which she knew howto express. 

He said to himself as he studied her (which having put aside thepersonal he could now do), "She has the New England alertness of mindinherited from her mother without the New England reticence, and fromher Kentucky father, eccentric as he is, she gets the vivacity andcharm which is the Kentucky girl's birthright. "

And yet in the midst of his enjoyment an insistent despair of heartreturned as he recalled a certain good fellowship in her attitudetowards Raymond, which was missing with him. Obtuse as lovers usuallyare, it never occurred to him that this was one of the best ofsymptoms in his favour!

They had gone in leisurely fashion through the wood, but the talltrees began to drop away at last, and they went down the slope tillthe old mill stood before them in soft, quaker-gray upon the bank of aturbulent, rushing mountain creek. The big, wooden wheel had fallenfrom its place and the old mill itself was fast dropping into completedecay, but the trees in fresh summer green still hung affectionatelyover it. Just beyond the mill nestled the gray log cabin with itsporch across the front; and, yes, there was Tildy pacing back andforth at her spinning-wheel just as she used to do when Steve andNancy were children. She was of the thrifty type of mountain women, always cleanly, always busy, making the most of the meagre means athand. To the young people it was as though some magic lantern hadflashed before them a scene from the past, and the two turnedinvoluntarily to one another with a rush of something tender upontheir faces. 

Without speaking they rode to the door, and before Steve coulddismount Nancy had sprung from the saddle, caught up her skirt, andwas warmly shaking hands with the old woman, whom now she did notoften see. Steve quickly followed, and with the air of an old friendalso, put out his hand cordially to Tildy. 

She took it doubtfully, saying:

"Howdye, stranger?"

[Illustration: "Tilda pacing back and forth at her spinning-wheel"]

"Why, don't you know me, Mother Greely?" Steve asked. 

"I shore don't, " she replied, pushing her spectacles up on her noseand peering earnestly through them. "No, " she said finally, "I nuverseed ye afore; leastways I ain't no recollection of hit ef I everdid. "

The old man, who with the old mill had fallen into decrepitude, thencame slowly hobbling out, an inquiring look on his kind old face. Tildy turned to him, raising her voice shrilly, for he heard withdifficulty and asked: "Nat, have ye ever seed this young man afore?"

"No, " the old man returned after searching scrutiny. 

Then Steve said: "Don't you remember an old gray horse that used tocome to the mill with a little girl in white pinafore on his back, twobags of corn behind her, and a tousled, brown-haired boy of abouttwelve walking beside her?"

"And the little girl was always on the verge of starvation, and onlymolasses cakes could rescue her, " put in Nancy laughing. 

"Nancy and Steve, " exclaimed the old woman, and then with theintuition of her sex for romance, she further exclaimed: "An' ye hevdone got married!"

"No, " Steve hastened to say; but the old man, more accustomed to hiswife's shrill voice, caught her affirmation, and failed to hearSteve's denial. 

"Well, now, " said he, rubbing his hands together, greatly pleased, "Tildy and me allus said ye'd marry some day; ye was jes' suited toone another. "

Nancy hated herself for flushing so unreasonably again, and Steve, notdaring to look towards her, was hurrying to the rescue, when the oldwoman with a swift, keen glance at both, broke in with:

"No, pap, no they hain't, " piped shrilly into the old man's ear. 

His face dropped with evident disappointment, and there was anembarrassed moment for all of them. 

"Mother Greely, " said Nancy gaily, determinedly recovering herself, "have you got any of those molasses cakes you used to give us when wecame over?"

"Wal now, I think I hev, " said the old woman, rising as quickly as herstiffened limbs would let her. 

Steve looked down at Nancy as Tildy went in, smiled, and said:

"Shall we sit on the door-step, as we used to?"

Nancy's eyes did not meet his, and she turned her head to hide thatprovokingly rising colour as she sat down in a matter-of-fact way. 

When they rode away from the mill, having made the aged couple happywith the renewal of old times, Steve again with eager yearningstrained his inner vision for a glimpse into her heart, but shebetrayed not the slightest consciousness of the embarrassing episode. 

As the horses went leisurely back along through the wood, Steve andNancy talked gently of the two old people with their wondrous mountaincombination of barest poverty, dense ignorance, keen intelligence, simple kindliness and gentle dignity, --qualities which the young folkswere now prepared to recognize. 

"It is curious how like two people grow from constant association, "said Steve at last, musingly. "The resemblance between the old millerand his wife is striking, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, " returned Nancy; "the shape of face and type of featureis the same in both, and as for expression, each might be a mirror forthe other. "

"It would be interesting to know which had most influenced the other, "said Steve; "whether she has conformed to his type or he to hers. "

"Old Nat and Tildy certainly furnish a good opportunity for study ofthat problem, " said Nancy, "for there has been little except theinfluence of each upon the other to leave its impress. "

"The subject is an interesting field for the aspiring investigator, "Steve went on. "I wonder that some fine-spun, scientific theory hasnot already been advanced, --but it only remains another formidablematrimonial hazard, " he ended with his sudden smile. 

"It does indeed, " laughed Nancy. "Wouldn't it be dreadful to think ofgrowing daily more and more like some people?"

"And on the other hand, " promptly returned Steve, "how delightful tothink of growing more and more like certain other people, " turning toher with a light in his eye. 

"But then there is the uncertainty, --which is most likely to influencethe other, " said Nancy, switching dexterously away from hintedpersonal application, and then with a dash of daring gaiety, adding, "When you marry a girl with a crooked nose, will yours begin to crooklikewise, or will hers take on your symmetrical lines?"

"But I am not going to take one with a crooked nose, " said Steve, smiling significantly in spite of himself. 

"Perhaps not, but the question remains, --which is most likely toconform, a husband or a wife, " said Nancy, shying back to the abstractagain, with pretty positiveness. And then she called gaily, as shetouched Gyp with her whip and started both horses off on a briskcanter, leaving the wood for the road, "Please let me know if yousolve the problem, so I may be relieved in mind or forewarned. "

As she dashed on slightly ahead of him, spirit and beauty in everyline of pony and rider, Steve said to himself with a quizzical smile:

"How cleverly she manages to keep me at arm's length. Oh, littleNancy, where did you learn such tactics?" and he did not know that"such tactics" were sure forerunners of surrender. 

As for Nancy, she stood a little later by her bedroom window. Thetrim, smart riding-habit was laid aside and a little light muslin ofalmost childlike simplicity had taken its place. She stood looking outat nothing through brimming tears, with flushed cheeks and quiveringlips. 

"I do blush so horridly when I am with him, and I'm afraid I saythings I shouldn't. Oh, what makes me, when I do like him so much!"

XIV

"ALL RIGHT, SON"

After dinner Steve walked over to the store with Mr. Follet, talkedwith him a little, and then strolling up the street afterwards, he wasjoined with great cordiality by Raymond Colton. 

The talk was breezy as was inevitable with Raymond. He had graduatedat a great northern university in June, had any amount of _sang froid_and had as yet caught no glimpse of life save as a field forpleasure. 

"What do you think of Miss Nancy?" he inquired enthusiastically. "Isn't she the prettiest thing going? I have seen them north, south, east, and west, but I honestly believe I never saw a sweeter flowergrowing than Nancy Follet!" he went on without waiting for Steve toanswer his question, so a smile was all the response which seemednecessary. 

"I came here, " went on Raymond, "to look after a land proposition forfather. They say there's lots of valuable coal and iron ore abouthere. I've dipped a good deal into that sort of thing at college andfather sent me up to make some tests for him, and if I found anythingrich to take up a 'claim' instanter. I've been here three weeks and Ihaven't done a thing yet. Miss Nancy has fascinated me so, I haven'thad eyes for sordid things. But there's plenty of time; no danger ofanybody's rushing in ahead in this sleepy little burg. "

"I'm not so sure of that, " returned Steve quietly. "You never knowwhen somebody may slip in ahead of you. Business competition is a verylively thing I've been told, though I confess I don't know much aboutit, " he ended easily. 

"Well, I've been getting a good bit of experience in business here andthere, and I can tell that there's nobody hanging about here that hasmuch business go. " He had no intention of being personal and Stevebowed, smiling remotely. 

After some more desultory talk they separated and Steve went back tojoin Nancy on the porch where he thought he would find her. 

Raymond looked after him with a half smile. 

"Poor old Steve, " he said to himself, "he's caught already, and theworst of it is, I am afraid he's got the best chance. She's a dearlittle chum with me, loves to sing to my tenor and laugh at myfoolishness, but I noticed last night the blushes were for him. " Andhis handsome face set into unusual, firm lines as he went on: "But Iam going to win her! I'll do it in spite of him. To-night I'll walkoff with her whether or no, and he'll think his case is lost, for hedoesn't know girls, I can see that. " And with restored confidence hewent over to the store to visit Mr. Follet. He and Mr. Follet were onfine terms, and he spent an hour or so at the store every day. Theyseemed in fact to have some project in common requiring muchconsultation. 

Evening brought Raymond again to the Follet porch, and after a littlemusic and general talk, turning to Mrs. Follet he said:

"Mother Follet, won't you let us children, Miss Nancy and me, go for alittle walk together? It is so hard for us to sit still. " He said itwith mock childishness that was irresistible, and without waiting forMrs. Follet's consent, he laughingly grasped Nancy's hand and made offwith her, whether or no. 

Steve could not see the laughing but real protest in Nancy's face, andhis lips set firmly as he watched her white frock swaying gently upthe long, straggling street. 

Mrs. Follet then went in and Mr. Follet, turning to Steve, began inpleased excitement:

"Raymond's mightily in love with her, ain't he?" and went on withoutwaiting for a reply, "I can't tell about her, --you never can tellnothin' about girls, anyway, you know, and she's just wrapped up inher piano music. She spends hours thumpin' on what she callsclassical music, but I wouldn't give it for one tune on the banjo. She's been begging me to let her go to New York and study, but Lord, she knows as much now as any woman under the cano_pee_'s got use for, I think, and I've told her she can't do it. Raymond says, though, sheought to go, and that he'd like nothin' better than to give her thechance. His folks have got money, I reckon, and he can do it allright. If anything'll help to get her that will. "

Steve laughed in reply with as good grace as he could, and soonfollowed Mrs. Follet to bed as one of the "old folks" before the"children" returned. 

It was evident enough that he did not count with anybody except theGreelys as a possible suitor for Nancy, and his sturdy heart chafed inalmost bitter protest. Again sweet memories played truant in the smallattic chamber. "And little Nancy has musical aspirations, " he thought. "With the life I have chosen I could never gratify her. It isabsolutely hopeless for me, --I have nothing to offer her. I am old andstaid, anyway, " he said finally to his rebellious heart. "I have knownthe responsibilities of life too long, and Nancy is made only forjoy. "

The next morning, putting aside his depression sternly, Steve went onhorseback alone, taking the same road he and Nancy had taken themorning before. He lingered again in the Greely woods, this time on aprospecting tour testing here and testing there carefully. 

When he at last rode up to the little one-roomed log cabin the oldfolks again made him welcome. After chatting a goodly length of timewith them, and getting his voice well pitched for the old man'shearing, Steve asked if Mr. Greely would not like to sell off some ofhis land. 

The old man looked surprised at the question, for no coal fields hadthen been opened up in that part of Kentucky, so that he was not awareof the value of coal bearing land. 

"Wal, course I would, but nobody would want ter buy hit. Thar's onlythis patch the cabin and mill sets on what's any a'count, an' that Iwant ter keep long's me an' the ole woman lives. "

"I am sure you are mistaken about that, Mr. Greely. I think all thatwoodland ridge is good land, and I would like to own it. Will you andMrs. Greely think it over, give me a price on it by to-morrow and letme have the first chance at it?"

Astonished beyond measure the old man looked helplessly at his wife. 

"Why, Steve, give me what ye think hit is wuth, if you really wanthit. "

"Mr. Greely, I must tell you frankly that I cannot give what I thinkit is worth, but I can pay you more a thousand times than you can everget out of it, for you are too old to attempt anything with it, andthere are no children. I think it can be made to yield returns in waysof which you do not dream or I wouldn't buy it, but I do not _know_and I am making a venture in buying it. "

The old man thought a minute, then said: "Wal, I know as much nowabout hit as I will ter-morror and you can have hit fer a hundreddollars, ef ye kin pay that much. "

"No, Mr. Greely, I can't take it for that, " said Steve smiling; "itwill be worth much more to me if it is worth anything. I am willing toventure more on it, " and he named a much larger sum than the oneasked. 

The old man could not speak for amazement. He had never heard of anyone in "them parts" having so much money at one time and the trade waspractically closed at once. 

He left the old folks feeling like millionaires and felt immensesatisfaction himself that the deal had progressed so well. If the oldcouple should live in luxury, as they might conceive the word, for therest of their lives, they could never spend that sum in themountains. 

Steve knew the lay of the land for miles around and he felt surethere was nothing so valuable as the Greely Ridge with the railroadlying not far from its base. 

Asking the Follets if he might leave his traps there for a few days hewent at once in the afternoon to the county seat to take the necessarysteps for the transfer of the land, and found the title perfectlyclear. 

With elation over the assured deal and happy expectation of more thancancelling his debt, he telegraphed Mr. Polk what he had done. A replycame promptly back saying, "I will be on at once and bring expert. "

It was with mingled feelings that Steve thought of the meeting as hebusied himself with the details completing the transaction, going overwith a notary public for the old folks to sign the papers, gettingeverything ready for Mr. Polk's signature as purchaser since he wascoming and one transfer would be sufficient. He did not stop at theFollets, but returned at once to meet his old friend. 

When Mr. Polk stepped from the train and looked again upon the boy hehad loved as his own, he put an arm about him, as he used to in theold days, and said:

"How are you, son?"

"Well, thank you, " answered Steve, and both voices trembled alittle. 

That was all, but it restored the old frank relations. They talkedwith great interest about the purchase and went as soon as possiblewith the expert to get his opinion upon it. When careful tests of theproperty had been made, the expert was enthusiastic. 

"I believe it will prove to be a rich coal deposit, and if wellmanaged ought to bring you a small fortune. "

That night when they returned to the little "hotel, " so named, Mr. Polk and Steve talked long and interestedly over plans for developingthe mine. Mr. Polk had pretty well-defined ideas for the immediateorganization of a company and the beginning of operations. 

Finally he turned to Steve and said:

"Son, I have grown since you left, --I hope, some wiser, and thatlittle woman made me see before I left home that I had no right todictate to you what you should do with your life. I know you haveworked hard these three years, or you never could have saved moneyenough to buy this piece of land, even at so small a price, and Idon't doubt you have done good at the same time. But I still feel thatyou might do just as good work perhaps by earning money for the causeyou are so greatly interested in, so I am going to make a propositionto you. Suppose you take the oversight of this mining business, handling the money and seeing that everything goes straight. We couldwell afford to pay you a good salary for this service and give yousome shares in the company too. Then you can live right here and exertyour influence upon your people, as you call them, at the same time. "

Steve listened intently, and the thought of money, and Nancy and musiclessons, while he remained in the mountains, made his brain whirl. 

Finally he put out his hand. "You hev allus been kind an' generous terme, " he said uncertainly, with emotion which carried him back for aninstant to the old-time speech. Then lifting his head he smiled andadded, "Let me think of this till to-morrow. "

Mr. Polk agreed, and they separated for the night. 

It was again a time of sore temptation for Steve. All night he tossedand thought. In spite of recurring depression he had not given up hopeof winning Nancy. Her desire for musical advantages had been the mostdiscouraging thing of all, however, and if he accepted this offer, hecould hope to give her what she wanted, while since Raymond was notaccepted he felt free to win her if he could. He pictured the futurewith increasing exhilaration, as the night approached its zenith, thetime of keenest mental activity; and then, as the ebb came with thewaning hours, suddenly a little figure reeled and staggered as ittried to walk a crack in a cabin floor, and springing from bed Stevestrode to the window, and looked out upon the silent, starry sky. 

"Oh, God, " he said, "keep me from temptation;" and after a time hewent back to bed firm in the old resolution that whatever thesacrifice involved, he would give himself, and not money alone, to thework. And then he slept. 

Next morning he smiled his sudden smile as Mr. Polk looked keenly intohis face, and said:

"I guess I am incorrigible, Mr. Polk, --I can't see it except in theold way. "

"All right, son, " said Mr. Polk quietly, and when they separated itwas with a warm hand-clasp as Mr. Polk exacted a promise that Stevewould visit them his first opportunity. "'The little mother' longs tosee her boy, " he said affectionately; then added, "Some day we hope tobe in shape to help you with your work. "

When he was gone Steve left for the Follets again. A great peace hadcome upon him with the renewal of his resolution, and his heart leapedat the prospect of seeing Nancy again. 

"How long it seems since I left her, " he laughed to himself, and thethought sprang to his mind from out the ever active realm of humanhope: "Perhaps I shall win her yet by some miracle!"

XV

FLICKERING HOPE

It was with keen satisfaction that Steve caught a glimpse of Nancy'swhite dress out under the trees upon his return to the Follets. Hehurried over to the bench where she sat. 

"Is there anything more satisfying than these Kentucky mountains?" hesaid, with enthusiasm, as he seated himself beside her. "There issomething that constantly assures me I belong to them. "

"I have wondered that you were not captured by the city with all itsallurements, " said Nancy. 

"No, " returned Steve, "though perhaps I might have been at first hadnot my little foster-mother been loyal to Kentucky mountain need. Butmy experience the past three years as teacher has made it impossiblefor me to ever get away from the outstretched hand of Kentuckymountain children, " and his voice dropped into deep earnestness. 

"I can understand how you feel, " said Nancy after a little silence. "Icould not help being interested in the school when it was opened here. Little children came trudging in from the most barren cabin homes, wide-eyed, and eager to 'larn, ' and grown-up men and women trampedbarefoot miles and miles every day to try to get some of the 'larnin'they'd heard about. Then they would plod away with the utmost patiencetrying to read and write. It was intensely pathetic. Nothing has evertouched and interested me so much as some supply work I have done forour school, " she added, a light upon her face, which thrilled Steve'sheart anew. What a help she could be to him in his chosen work!

"I am so glad you have felt the appeal of mountain need, " said he, struggling to keep the thrill out of his voice. And then he told herof his hopes and plans, of the dream he had of a new school withinreach of Hollow Hut, a region to which new possibilities were about tocome, he had learned at the county seat, through a projected railroadline. Of how he hoped to have help in the work from Mr. And Mrs. Polkand perhaps other capitalists of the north, and she was mostinterested, most appreciative, showing all the sweet seriousness oflittle Nancy of old. 

But this long talk of some two hours which revealed again congenialtastes and ideals of life for the two only served to make Steve'sheart more intensely rebellious when, after supper, Raymond walked inonce more with his debonair proprietorship of Nancy. As it happenedshe had just stepped out under the trees to get a bit of fancy workleft there in the afternoon, and Raymond joining her, barricaded theway to the house, insisting that the "old folks" were glad to get ridof them, till she laughingly sat with him there. It had been purelyaccidental, her going out just then, and she remained with inwardprotest, but Steve could only see in it complete surrender to theardent suitor. 

Mrs. Follet had not yet come out and Mr. Follet turned to Steve, laughing in a pleased way. 

"I don't mind telling you, for I know you are interested, " he saidconfidentially, "that Raymond told me this morning he was simply crazyabout her, he couldn't wait any longer, and was going to pop thequestion to-night. I s'pose there ain't much question about it though, for I reckon she's as much in love as he, though, --as I said, younever can tell. "

And he little suspected that what he said seemed to Steve thedeath-knell to his hopes. 

Mr. Follet continued loquaciously: "Raymond's the greatest fellow Iever saw. Everybody likes him. Why, he's in with the moonshiners abouthere hand and glove, and they're powerful offish. Never saw anythingunder the cano_pee_ like him. He has big plans too, about some of theland round here which he says is full of coal. He's looked a littleat the Greely Ridge; he thinks that's the finest piece, but he hasn'tbeen over it carefully yet--been too much in love, you know, " and helaughed contentedly. 

Steve made conventional reply, and admitting he was quite tired, wentto the little attic for another restless, unhappy night. 

If the good fairies had only visited his couch and whispered theirstory of what was going on under the trees, how sweet would have beenhis sleep! But they did not. 

Next morning Steve announced at the breakfast table that he must beleaving the following morning; a few days off from work for pleasurewas all he could take with good grace. 

Mr. And Mrs. Follet expressed their regret, while Nancy's eyes wereupon her plate. Mr. Follet was complaining of some sciatic pain, buttried to throw it off with his usual nervous energy. 

"Nancy, " he said, "you haven't taken Steve over to Borden's Cave, which has been discovered since he was here. Why don't you go thismorning?"

"Why, I should be glad to, " responded Nancy, and Steve, feeling thather agreement was upon the basis of the old family relationshipbetween them, made no excuse, though he did not doubt, with thefatality of anxious lovers, that the engagement had taken place. Thetwo started off with Gyp and the family horse for a three mile canter, and Steve's spirit rose with the exhilaration of it in spite ofhimself. 

The cave proved to be a most interesting rock formation and when theyhad examined it, Steve pointing out some curious scientific facts, they sat down in the quiet woods upon a fallen tree trunk, while thehorses grazed. 

Nancy looked up at him when they were seated, and said naively:

"How much you have learned in these last busy years!"

"Have I?" said Steve, his eyes brightening. "I am especially glad youthink I have used my time well, because I can never forget that it wasyou who taught me my letters, --even how to spell my name, " and heturned kindling eyes upon her. 

"Did I?" she said, laughing and flushing. 

"Yes, " he returned, and a bit of tenderness crept into his voice. "Iwill never forget how you did it, how picturesquely you characterizedthe various letters for me, how you thought curly S the very prettiestletter in the alphabet, and how disappointed I was when I found mypoor name did not hold a single letter which belonged to yours, " andthere was such deep pathos in the last words, as he looked far intothe distance, that she stirred uneasily and could make no answer. 

After a moment he went on: "I suppose I read in it, even then, aprophecy of our future, how yours must be separate from mine. Therecould be nothing in common. "

And still she was dumb; not a word came to her lips. But he seemed toneed no reply; a sad meditativeness was stealing upon him which madehim oblivious for the moment of his surroundings. 

But suddenly setting his lips firmly, he turned and said with forcedlightness:

"What a bear bachelorhood makes of a man! I have spent so much timealone the last few years that I am already acquiring the bad habit ofthinking my thoughts aloud sometimes. Forgive me, won't you?" And heturned to her with more in the tone than the simple words couldconvey. 

"I have nothing to forgive, " said she, but with an effort, --which hemisinterpreted. 

Then gathering her wits she repeated, "I have nothing to forgive, buteverything for which to thank you. My starting you in the lifeintellectual cannot compare with your finding me hanging by a merethread from a tall tree top and restoring me to the life physical, without which my brilliant intellectual attainments would have been asnothing, " she ended gaily, breaking the tension which both had felt. 

The talk continued to drift near the sacred realm of the heart, however, until the sanctity of engagement was finally touched upon. 

"An engagement is to me a very sacred thing, " said Nancy with sweetseriousness, in response to something from Steve. "I have neverunderstood how it could be lightly entered into with only the basis ofa brief, gay acquaintance. "

Was not that just what she had done? "Oh, consistency, thy name iscertainly not woman, " thought Steve bitterly. He said:

"Oh, yes, that is good theory, but it is generally overwhelmed bypractice when a gay cavalier comes along and takes the maiden heart bystorm. "

"Perhaps so, with some, " returned Nancy quietly, "but so far as I amconcerned I do not believe I could be deceived into thinking that abrief, gay acquaintance was sufficient assurance for the binding oftwo in the tenderest tie of life, when their tastes and ideals mightprove to be totally at variance. "

Steve's heart leaped within him. Was she trying to tell himsomething, --to undeceive him with regard to Raymond and herself?Impetuous words rose and trembled on his lips, while the thought racedthrough his brain that it would not be dishonourable to ask if therewere the least hope for him. He would not utter another word if shesaid the sacred tie was already entered into with Raymond. 

But Nancy, in the yielding and yet withdrawing which is characteristicof woman and man never fully understands, plunged into a new topic. Frightened at the plainness of her revelation and almost seeming todivine his purpose, with her brightest talk she led him far afield. 

Steve, however, baffled though he was, found memory of that shy lookcoming back to him insistently, till he suddenly, firmly determined asthey rode home once more that Nancy Follet should have the opportunityof accepting or refusing him before he left the place!

XVI

IN THE CRUCIBLE

When Steve and Nancy reached home they found Mr. Follet in bedsuffering intensely with sciatic pains. He fretted constantly, declaring he would get up whether or no by afternoon. He was obligedto make a trip into the country for a load of hay, able or not, thatevening, he said. Steve offered to go for him, but Mr. Folletimpatiently declared that nobody could do it but himself, as there wassome other business to be attended to at the same time. 

The pain continued so severe, however, that getting up was animpossibility, and about seven o'clock after fretting and fuming forhours, occupying Mrs. Follet and Nancy continually, he said to hiswife:

"Go tell Steve to come here. "

Mrs. Follet obeyed and brought Steve in from the porch where he satsupposedly reading, Nancy being busy then with the supper dishes. 

"Now you go out, ma, and don't come back till I tell you, " said Mr. Follet querulously, and his wife went wonderingly. 

"Steve, " said Mr. Follet as soon as the young man entered, "I know Ican trust you, and I am going to get you to do some important businessfor me. "

"I will certainly do anything for you, Mr. Follet, with greatpleasure, and I appreciate more than I can tell you the fact that youfeel you can trust me, " said Steve warmly. 

"Well, " said Mr. Follet, a little uneasily, "this is mighty partic'lerbusiness I've got. The fact is, " he went on with nervous energy, "apart of the world is getting so good it ain't content with just beinggood itself but is bound and determined that the rest of the worldshall do just as it says, and there's a good bit of difference ofopinion about what goodness strictly is. "

Steve listened a little surprised at the homily. Then Mr. Follet wenton:

"I ain't ever cared anything about liquor myself, though I could havehad all I wanted all my life long, but I am willing other peopleshould make it, and have it, or sell it, all they want to. "

Steve looked more surprised and his lips settled just a little intofirmer lines, but Mr. Follet failed to notice it. 

"Now, old Kaintuck, which has always been the freest state in theUnion, has got a passle o' folks turned loose in it just like thefolks I was telling you about. They're so good themselves they ain'tsatisfied till they make everybody else do just as they say. They'remaking laws in the towns that no liquor can be sold, and I tell youmen of old Kaintuck ain't goin' to stand that and I don't blame 'em, "he concluded vehemently. 

Steve started to reply, his lips growing firmer, and his eyes takingfire, but Mr. Follet gave him no chance. 

"Now, I promised some fellows that I would meet 'em to-night, --andbring home a load of hay, " he ended with an excited laugh. 

"A load of hay with whiskey enclosed?" asked Steve, instantlysuspecting. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Follet, delighted with Steve's quickness, "that's theidee. Then I unload it in my barn and ship it as I please to these drytowns. I'm in for the law as a general thing, " he added quickly, "butI believe in folks having their rights. "

"Well, Mr. Follet, " said Steve, going to the foot of the bed andleaning hard upon it, "we must understand each other at once. I do notagree with you as to our rights. I do not think we have the right todestroy ourselves or others with any weapon whatsoever, the pistol, the knife, poison or whiskey. I am with the law in every particular, "he said firmly. 

"With the law, " exclaimed Mr. Follet excitedly, "when it says a mancan't do with his own corn on his own place what he wants to do withit? A man's got as good a right, in my mind, to put up a still andmake whiskey out of his corn as his wife has to gather apples and makepies!" he concluded, fairly quivering with excitement. 

Steve held himself quietly, and said gently:

"Mr. Follet, you are too ill for me to discuss these things with younow. I see we look at them from totally different points of view. "

"There ain't but one point of view, " shrilly returned Mr. Follet, "andthat's the point of view of man's rights. Why, it won't be long till aman can't milk his own cow without the government standing round towatch her switch her tail and tell him how to do it, --all ready tograb the money if he sells a little to a neighbour!"

"Well, Mr. Follet, " said Steve, looking steadily but kindly in theenraged eyes of his opponent, "there is one thing that we do agreeupon, and that is, every man has a right to his own opinion, " and thekindness in Steve's eyes merged into his sudden smile, which stemmed alittle the rising tide of Mr. Follet's wrath. 

After a somewhat subdued pause he turned to Steve appealingly:

"But you will go and get this load for me, --you will have noresponsibility about it. I have never had anything to do withmoonshiners before, " he went on, "but Raymond got in with 'em andthinks it would be a huge joke to send a lot of their whiskey to hisfriends in these 'dry towns, ' and that prohibition business has riledme so that I promised I would help pass the stuff along. Raymond'sgoing to hang around the saloon and the station to see that the coastis clear o' government men, while the thing is goin' on. "

"No, " said Steve instantly and firmly when Mr. Follet was through, "Icannot do it, Mr. Follet, greatly as it grieves me to refuse you afavour. I feel that whiskey, the knife and the pistol have beenKentucky's greatest curses, especially among the people of themountains. I would lay down my life, if necessary, for mountain folks, but I long instead to spend it for them in replacing the pistol andthe knife with the book and the pen, and in cultivating among them athirst for knowledge instead of drink, " said Steve with quiet passionwhich held Mr. Follet's unwilling attention. Then he added:

"Understand me, Mr. Follet, I do not attempt to decide for you what isright or wrong, I only know that I cannot do this thing you ask andkeep my self-respect. I must live within the laws of my country evenif I should feel sometimes that they are unjust, and I can never takeeven a remote part in the distribution of whiskey in the land I love, "he concluded earnestly. 

At this Mr. Follet fairly shouted in a sudden access of rage. He wasall the more angry for the moment because in the light of Steve'sclear statement he not only felt that Steve was right, but that hehimself was wrong. 

"Then leave my house this instant with your contemptible idees aboutKentucky's rights, and don't dare to stop and speak to my wife or mydaughter. "

"It is your house, Mr. Follet; I will do just as you say, " Stevereplied. 

Mr. Follet reiterated shrilly:

"Go on out of my house then, and don't you ever come near it again. "

Steve bowed and left, not even stopping to get his travelling bag; infact he forgot he had one, and only caught up his hat from the porchas he passed out. 

XVII

FRUITION

Mrs. Follet and Nancy knew that something very exciting was going onbetween Mr. Follet and Steve and both were exceedingly anxious. Whensilence took the place of heated discussion they could bear it nolonger and went to Mr. Follet's door. 

Mrs. Follet had never seen her husband so wrought up before, though hehad always been of an exciteable temperament. She did not dare ask aquestion, but busied herself doing little things for his comfort whileNancy brought in his supper, which he had not wanted earlier and stillquerulously refused to touch. 

A terrible silence settled upon them all. Nancy sat on the porch indistressed wonder over what had happened between her father and Steve, while Mrs. Follet, equally anxious, sat silently by the bed of therestless man. She proposed to get a neighbour to go for the doctor, but Mr. Follet wouldn't hear of it. Hours passed by and then Mr. Follet suddenly started up in bed. 

"My God, " he cried wildly, "they'll kill him!"

"Who?" cried his wife, starting up also, while Nancy's white face atonce appeared in the door. 

"Why, Steve, " screamed Mr. Follet. "He's gone, and I don't doubt hewent straight to old man Greely's for the night. If he did, he's cutacross the woods and run into some moonshiners. They'll take him for agovernment man and shoot him soon's they lay eyes on him!"

He paused for breath, and Mrs. Follet and Nancy were too appalled tospeak. 

"Do something, " screamed Mr. Follet; "I can't have the boy's blood onmy hands!"

Then Mrs. Follet with her gentle strength made him quiet down enoughto tell them particulars, and she learned that Mr. Follet was to havegone after a load of hay, and coming back would stop at the edge ofthe wood leading to old man Greely's, walk into the woods a piece tomeet the men, and then, if the coast was clear, they'd hide the liquorin the hay load. At the end she said:

"You must go, Nancy----"

"Yes, " cried Mr. Follet, "you must go, child, and save Steve. JimSutton will know you. They won't touch you, and they'll believeyou. I was a fool ever to have anything to do with that moonshinebusiness!"

But Nancy was already out of the room flying for the stable. There wasno thought of riding habit or saddle. Throwing a bridle over Gyp'shead, she sprang upon his back and like the wind the two rushed forthinto the midnight stillness. Would she be in time to save him? It hadbeen so long since he left the house. Oh, would she be too late? Sheurged Gyp wildly on and on, along the road directly towards the Greelywoods, where she would find the moonshiners, and perhaps, --oh, perhaps! God only knew what else she might find. 

Every throbbing pulse beat became a prayer that she might be in timeto save him. 

 * * * * *

Meanwhile Steve, upon leaving Mr. Follet, had not gone out into thestreet, but crossing the lawn into the driveway he went past thestable to the wood back of the house from whence he had come so manyyears ago. His mind and heart were in a tumult. He scarcely thoughtwhere he was going till he suddenly became conscious that he was inthe old wood where he had rescued Nancy so long ago. Little Nancy! Andhe had loved her ever since consciously or unconsciously. But she wascompletely lost to him now, --that was final. The fair dream-structurewhich had risen anew that afternoon had fallen again in a tragicmoment's space. The mountain blood in Mr. Follet would never forgetor forgive. He must leave the place forever. He was adrift again inthe world. There would never be tender home ties for him, --he couldnever love another, no one could be a part of his very self likelittle Nancy. He dropped down upon a little seat which he had fixedthere for her in the old days, and was lost in depressed thought, taking no note of how long he remained. 

The stillness of the wood quieted him finally, as it had always done, and he remembered his old friends the Greelys. They would be glad tohave him come in for breakfast in the morning, and for the night hewould sleep in the Greely woods. He would feel very near to Nancythere, for that spot was hallowed by her memory as no other for him. He rose and made his way over into the road which led to the wood. 

It was a brilliant moonlight night, and he walked on under themajestic beauty of the firmament with quieted spirit. 

Suddenly, as he had almost reached the wood, he heard rapid hoof-beatsbehind him and paused to listen, for it was a little-travelled road. Nearer and nearer they came, and then he could distinguish a whitedress fluttering in the wind from the flying animal's back and knewthe rider must be a woman. The speed of the horse began to slacken asshe was almost upon him, and he saw that it was Gyp and Nancy!

She also had recognized him, and the next instant she sprang from thepony and stood beside him. 

"Oh, Steve, " she panted, "they will kill you!" and stretched hershaking hands out to him. Her agitation was pitiable. Unconsciously hedrew her instantly within his arms, while he said with equalunconsciousness:

"Why, Nancy, darling, what do you mean?"

For answer she dropped her head upon his breast and sobbed convulsively. 

He held her close, stroking her face and soothing her with tenderestwords of love till she was able to speak again. 

"The moonshiners that father was to meet, Steve, --they are in theGreely wood, and they will think you are a revenue man and kill yousure, " she said brokenly. "You were going there, weren't you?"

"Yes, " he said gravely. 

"Father thought you would and sent me for you. Oh, it was dreadful, the terror of it, " she said shuddering and sobbing anew. 

Again he soothed her with caresses and whispered, "But, sweetheart, you know I am not going there now, --not when I can hold you likethis. " And she nestled in his arms at last in quiet happiness. 

Finally she lifted her head and smiled up at him. He turned her faceup to the moon's full light and looked longingly into it. 

"Nancy, do you love me?" he said. 

"Oh, Steve, I've always loved you, I think, " she softly replied. 

"And it never was Raymond?" he went on insistently, his voice takingon a resonant ring. 

"Not in the least, " she returned. Then smiling demurely at him shesaid, "Oh, Steve, you weren't nearly so stupid in learning yourletters!"

And he punished her with kisses. 

"Do you remember, " he said at last tenderly, looking over at theGreely wood, "that you asked me when a little girl to build a housefor you and me over there where we might live always?"

"Yes, " she said with a touch of sweet reluctance, "I confess I havealways remembered that childish speech, --with an intuitive knowledgethat I shouldn't have made it, I suppose. "

"While I have always treasured it consciously or unconsciously, " hereturned, with eager joy creeping into the tenderness of his voice. "You were a blessed little prophetess, for it is here under the shadowof the old wood that love has at last built for us the fairest, holiest structure earth ever knew. "

Then they remembered the hour of the night and the anxiety of herfather and mother, and started back down the road, Nancy saying shewould like to walk a little and Steve leading Gyp, who had beenunconcernedly grazing by the roadside. 

After a time the lover went on again joyously:

"We have equal right to one another now, have we not, sweetheart, forif I saved you from possible death at the moment of our meeting, youhave probably saved me from a tragic end to-night. It is the way ofour mountain life, " he added, his voice taking on a note of sadness;"our joy must always be mingled with tragedy until we learn thebeautiful ways of peace. "

Then he stopped again and turned her face up to the moonlight oncemore. 

"Will you be content, dearest, to help me in the work I havechosen, --it will probably mean sacrifice, --the giving up of yourambitions. "

She smiled back with a low, "More than content, if I may be alwayswith you. "

 * * * * *

The next day Steve met Raymond on the street, and the latter was moreserious than Steve had ever seen him. 

"Well, old fellow, " he said with an attempt at a smile, "you've lickedme again. I know all about the sale of Greely Ridge and your narrowescape last night. Those two things, I admit, show me I am a gooddeal of a fool, and something of a cad as I used to be. I want you toknow that the business with the moonshiners is all off. The othervictory you've won over me I can't talk about. I acknowledge youdeserve her though, more than I do, and I wish you luck. "

Before Steve could reply he went on: "You got some hard knocks whenyou were a boy, Steve, and they did you good. That is when we needthem most. These are the first real blows I have ever had. I've alwaysbeen in for a good time and had it, but I don't believe it pays. Father is going to be no end put out with me about the loss of thatcoal land. I'm going home and make a clean breast of it, --then I amgoing to clear out. I've decided this morning to write Mr. Polk andsee if he has any chance for me there. I know he will give it to me, if he has, for father's sake. "

"That is just the thing, " said Steve heartily. "I feel sure he cantake you in, and the game of business is so interesting there, I knowyou will like it, and I believe you will make good. " He extended hishand with the last words and Raymond took it with a warm clasp. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Polk's mine was promptly opened up and proved to be a valuableproperty. In the formation of his company some shares had been placedin the name of Stephen Langly. At the end of two years they began toyield good returns and Steve felt that this, with the income from hiswork, would make comfort assured for Nancy. Then came a wedding in theFollet home, and just before the company arrived for the ceremony Mr. And Mrs. Polk, her eyes shining as of old, slipped into the littleparlour and placed on the carpet, for the bride and groom to standupon, a beautiful fox-skin rug with a history. 

Mr. Follet coming in a moment later nudged his wife excitedly andsaid:

"Can you tell where under the cano_pee_ you ever saw that before?"while she nodded smiling assent. 

It caught the eye of Steve as he entered with Nancy on his arm, and hetook his place upon it with firm, glad step. 

Mr. And Mrs. Polk were obliged to hurry away as soon as thecongratulations were over, in order to get back to New York in timefor the wedding of Raymond and Nita Trowbridge, --Raymond having wellfulfilled Steve's prophecy of making good. 

In the fall four years later when the mountains glowed with unusuallybrilliant colour, as though nature had caught the glory tints offresh, bright hope for her people, Steve and Nancy opened a newschool. Its well-equipped, modern buildings crowned the old woodedmountain of Steve's boyhood, and Steve the second, a sturdy boy, camedaily with little Champ to school. The "still" had passed away withthe passing of Champ, the elder, in a mountain fight, and a new dayhad dawned for Hollow Hut. 

THE END

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