 CHAPTER X What the club is to the city-man, and the general store or post-office to the citizens of the country village. The mill is to the native of the backwoods. Made to saw the little rough lumber he needs in his primitive building, or to grind his corn into the rough meal that is his staff of life, the mill does more for the settler than this. It brings together the scattered population. It is the new center, the heart of the social life, and the hub of the industrial wheel. On grinding day the Ozark mountaineer goes to mill on horseback, his grist in a sack behind the saddle, or indeed taking place of the saddle itself. The rule is, first come, first served. So while waiting his turn, or waiting for a neighbor who will ride in the same direction, the woodsman has time to contribute his share to the gossip of the countryside, or to take part in the discussions that are of more or less vital interest. When the talk runs slow there are games. Pitching horseshoes borrowed from the blacksmith shop, there is always a blacksmith shop nearby. Running or jumping contests, or wrestling or shooting matches. Fall Creek mill, owned and operated by Mr. Matthews and his son, was located on Fall Creek in a deep narrow valley about a mile from their home. A little old threshing engine, one of the very first to take the place of the horse-power, and itself in turn already pushed to the wall by improved competitors, rolled the saw or the burr. This engine which had been rescued by Mr. Matthews from the scrap pile of a Springfield machine shop, was accepted as evidence beyond question of the superior intelligence and genius of the Matthews family. In fact, Fall Creek mill gave the whole Mutton Hollow neighborhood such a tone of up-to-date enterprise that folks from the bend, or the mouth of the James, looked upon the Mutton Hollow people with no little envy and awe, not to say even jealousy. The settlers came to the Matthews mill from far up the creek, crossing and recrossing the little stream, from Iron Spring and from Gardiner beyond Sand Ridge, following faint, twisting bridal paths through the forest, from the other side of Dewey Bald along the old trail, from the Cove and from the post office at the Forks, down the wagon road through the pinery, and from Wolf Ridge in the head of Indian Creek beyond climbing the rough mountains. Even from the river-bottoms they came, yellow and shaking with agieu, to swap tobacco and yarns, and to watch with never-failing interest the crazy old engine, as young Matt padded and coaxed and flattered her into doing his will. They began coming early that grinding day, two weeks after Mr. Howet had been installed at the ranch, but the young engineer was ready, with a good head of steam in the old patched boiler, and the smoke was rising from the rusty stack in a long twisting line above the motionless treetops. It was a great day for young Matt, great because he knew that Sammy Lane would be coming to mill. He would see her and talk with her. Perhaps if he were quick enough he might even lift her from the brown pony. It was a great day, too, because Ollie Stewart would be saying good-bye, and before tomorrow would be on his way out of the hills. Not that it mattered whether Ollie went or not. It was settled that Sammy was going to marry young Stewart. That was what mattered. And young Matt had given her up. And as he had told his father in the barn that day, it was all right. But still? Still it was a great day because Ollie would be saying good-bye. It was a great day in young Matt's life, too, because on that day he would issue his challenge to the acknowledged champion of the countryside, Washed Gibbs. But young Matt did not know this until afterwards, for it all came about in a very unexpected way. The company had been discussing the new arrival in the neighborhood, and speculating as to the probable length of Mr. Howitt's stay at the ranch. And while young Matt was in the burr-house with his father, they had gone over yet again the familiar incidents of the ghost story. How? But Wilson seen her as closest from here to the shop yonder. How? Joe Gardner's mule had gone plum-hog-wild when he tried to ride past the old runes near the ranch. And? How Lem Wheeler, while outhunting that Rhone Steer heisen, had heard a moanin and a whelan under the bluff. Upon young Matthews returning to his engine the conversation had been skillfully changed to Ollie Stewart in his remarkable good fortune. From Ollie and his golden prospects it was an easy way to Sammy Lane and her coming marriage. Buck Thompson was just concluding a glowing tribute to the girl's beauty of face and form, when young Matt reached for an ax lying near the speaker. Said Buck, preaching Bill Lab the other day it didn't make no difference how much money the old man left Ollie, he'd be a poor sort of man anyhow. And that there's a heap better man than him right here in the hills that Sammy could have had for the askin'. How about that, Matt? called a young fellow from the river. The big man's face flushed at the general laugh which followed, and he answered hotly as he swung his ax. He'd better ask Wash Gibbs. I hear he says he's the best man in these woods. I reckon is how Wash can back his judgment there, said Joe. Wash is a sure good man, remarked Buck, but there's another not-so-mighty-far-away that'll pretty nigh hold him level. He looked significantly to where young Matt was making the big chips fly. Huh! grunted Joe. I tell you, gentlemen, that their man Gibbs is powerful. Yes, sir, he sure is. Tell you what I see'd him do. Joe pulled a twist of tobacco from his hip pocket, and settled down upon his heels, his back against a post. Wash and me was a go into the settlement last fall, and just this side of the camp-house on Wilderness Road, we struck a threshing crew stuck in the mud with their engine, had a breakdown of some kind, somethin' the matter with the hind wheel. And just as Wash and me drove up, the boss of the outfit was a-tellin' them to cut a big pole for a pry to lift the hind-ex, so they could block it up and fix the wheel. Wash, he just looked at him a minute, and then he says, says he. Hold on, boys, you don't need air a pole? What do you know about an engine, you darned hillbilly, says the old man, kinda short. Don't know nothin' about an engine, you prairie hopper, says Wash, but I know you don't need no pole to lift that thing. How'd you lift it, then, says the other. Why, just catch hold and lift, says Wash. The gang like to bust themselves laughin', why, you blame fool, says the boss. Do you know what that engine'll weigh? Don't care, cuz what she'll weigh, says Wash, she ain't plannin' there, is she? And with that he climbs down from the wagon, and Dad burned me, if he didn't take hold of that hind-ex, and lift one whole side of that there engine clean off the ground. Then fellers just stood round and looked at him, to beat the stir. Well, says Wash, still a-keepin' his hold, slide a block under her and I'll mosey along. That boss didn't say a word till he'd got a bottle from a box on the wagon, and handed it to Wash. Then he says, kinda scared like, where in hell are you from, mister? Oh, I'm just a kid from over on Rourke, says Wash, handin' the bottle to me. Yacht to see some of the men in my neighborhood. Then we went on. When the speaker had finished, there was quiet for a little. Then the young man from the river drawled. How much did you say that there engine'd weigh, Joe? There was a general laugh at this, which the admirer of Gibbs took good naturedly. Not know what she'd weigh, but she was about the size of that one there, he answered. With one accord everyone turned to inspect the mill engine. Pretty good lift, Joe, let's you and me take a poll at her, bud, remarked Lem Wheeler. The two men lifted and strained at the wheel. Then another joined them, and amid the laughter and good-natured railery of the crowd, the three tried in vain to lift one of the wheels, while Mr. Matthews, seeing some unusual movement, came into the shed and stood with his son an amused witness of their efforts. Sure, this engine ain't bigger than Tother Joe, asked one of the group. Don't believe she weighs a pound more, replied the Mountaineer with conviction. I tell you, gentlemen, that man Gibbs is a wonder, he sure is. Old Matt and his son glanced quickly at each other, and the boy shook his head with a smile. This little bi-play was lost on the men who were interested in the efforts of different ones, in groups of three, to move the wheel. When they had, at last, given it up, the young man from the river drawled. You're right, sure it weren't after the boss gave you that bottle that washed, lifted her, are you, Joe? Or wasn't it on the way home from the settlement? When the laugh at this insinuation had died out, Buck said thoughtfully, Tell you what, boys, I'd like to see young Matt try that lift. Mr. Matthews, who was just starting back to the burr house, paused in the doorway. All eyes were fixed upon his son. Try, Matt, show us what you can do, called the men in chorus. But the young man shook his head and found something that needed his immediate attention. All that mourning at intervals the Mountaineers urged the big fellow to attempt the feat. But he always put them off with some evasive reply, or was too busy to gratify them. But after dinner, while the men were pitching horseshoes in front of the blacksmith's shop, Buck Thompson approached the young engineer alone. Look a here, Matt, he said. Why don't you try that lift? Dern me if I don't believe you'd fetch her. The young giant looked around. I know I can, Buck. I lifted her yesterday while Dad fixed the blockin'. I always do it that way. Buck looked at him in amazement. Well, why in thunder don't you show the boys, then? He burst forth at last. As if I do wash-gibbs will hear of it, sure. And I'll have to fight him to settle which is the best man. Good Lord! ejaculated Buck with a groan. If you're afraid of wash-gibbs, it's the first thing I ever knowed you to be scared of. Young Matt looked his friend steadily in the eyes as he replied. I ain't afraid of wash-gibbs. I'm afraid of myself. Mr. Howit says, no man needn't be afraid of nobody but himself. I've been a-thinkin' lately, Buck. And I see some things that I never see before. I figure it that if I fight wash-gibbs or anybody else, just to see which is the best man. I ain't no better than he is. I reckon I'll have to whip him some day, all right. And I ain't a-carein' much how soon it comes. But I ain't a-goin' to hurt nobody for nothin' just because I can. Buck made no reply to this. Such sentiment was a little too much for his primitive notions. He went back to the men by the blacksmith shop. It was not long, however, until the players left their game, to gather once more about the engine. Lem Wheeler approached young Matt with a serious air. Looka here, he said. We all want to see you try that lift. I ain't got no time for foolin', replied the young man. Dad's just pushin' to get done before dark. Shucks, retorted the other. It won't take a minute to try. Just catch hold and show us what you can do. What are you all so keen about my liftin' for, anyhow? Ended the big fellow suspiciously. I ain't never set up as the strong man of this country. Well, you see it's this way. Buck done bet me his mule-coat, again mine, that you could lift her. And we want you to settle the bet, exclaimed Lem. Young Matthews shot a glance at the mountaineer who grinned joyously. Yep, said Buck. That's how it is. I'm a-backin' you. Don't want you to hurt yourself for me, but I sure do need that colt of Lem's. It's a dead match for mine. The giant looked at his friend a moment in silence, then burst into a laugh of appreciation at Buck's hint. Seein' is how you're backin' me, Buck, I'll have to get you that mule if I can. He shut off steam, and as the engine came to a stop, stooped and with apparent ease lifted the rear wheel a full four inches from the ground. Loud exclamations of admiration came from the little group of men in the shed. Lem turned with a long face. Them colts'll make a fine team, Buck, he said. You bet. Come over and help me break them, replied Buck, with another grin of delight. Wait till Wash Gibbs hears about this, and he'll sure be for breakin' young Matt, put in another. Better get your fightin' clothes on, Matt. Wash'll never rest easy until you've done showed him. These and similar remarks revealed the general view of the situation. While the men were discussing the matter, a thin, high-pitched voice from the edge of the crowd broke in. That there's a good lift all right, but it ain't nothin' to what I seed when I was to the circus in the city. Young Matt, who had started the engine again, turned quickly. Ollie Stewart was sitting on a horse nearby, and at his side on the brown pony was Miss Sammy Lane. They had evidently ridden up just in time to witness the exhibition of the giant's strength. CHAPTER XI. Ollie Stewart's Goodbye. Beside the splendidly developed young woman, Ollie Stewart appeared but a weakling. His shoulders were too narrow, and he stooped. His limbs were thin, his hair black and straight, and his eyes dull. As young Matt stepped forward, Ollie dismounted quickly, but the big fellow was first at the brown pony's side. Sammy's eyes shone with admiration, and as the strong man felt their light, he was not at all sorry that he had won the mule colt for Buck. No, she said, declining his offered assistance. She did not wish to get down. They were going to the post office and would call for the meal on their way home. Young Matt lifted the sack of corn from brownie's back and carried it into the shed. When he returned to the group, Ollie was saying in his thin voice, In the circus I seen in the city, there was a fellow that lifted a man, big as Jed here, clean above his head with one hand. Buck turned to his big friend. His look was met by a grim smile that just touched the corners of the lad's mouth, and there was a gleam in the blue eyes that betrayed the spirit within. The lean mountaineer again turned to the company, while the boy glanced at Sammy. The girl was watching him and had caught the silent exchange between the two friends. Shucks, said Buck, Matt could do that easy. Try it, Matt. Try Jed here. Try it once, called the chorus. This time the big fellow needed no urging. With Sammy looking on, he could not resist the opportunity which Ollie himself had presented. Without a word, but with a quick tightening of the lips, he stepped forward and caught Jed by the belt with his right hand. And then, before anyone could guess his purpose, he reached out with his other hand and grasped Ollie himself in the same manner. There was a short step forward, a quick upward swing, and the giant held a man in each hand, at full arm's length above his head. Amid the shouts of the crowd still holding the men, he walked deliberately to the blacksmith's shop and back, then lowering them easily to their feet, turned to his engine. Ollie and Sammy rode away together, up the green arched road, and the little company in the mill shed stood watching them. As the finely formed young woman and her inferior escort passed from sight, a tall mountaineer from the other side of Compton Ridge remarked, I done heard Preachin' Bill say to the other day, that mighty night all this hear G. Hawn, Balkin, and Kickin' amongst the married folks, comes because the teams ain't matched up right. Bill, he loud God Almighty'd fixed it somehow, so the birds and varmints don't make no mistake, but left it plum easy for men and women to make darned fools of their selves. Everybody grinned in appreciation, and another spoke up. According to that, I'll bet four bits of them too yonder ever do get into double harness, there'll be pieces of outfit strung from the Parsons clean to the Burrian ground. When the laughter had subsided, Buck turned to see young Matt standing just outside the shed, ostensibly doing something with the belt that led to the burr, but in reality looking up the creek. Laugh, ejaculated Buck under his breath, what a team they'd make. Who, said Lem, who was standing nearby? Them mule colts returned Buck with a grin. They sure will, Buck. There ain't two better in the country, they're a dead match. I'll come over and help you break them when they're big enough. And then he wondered why Buck swore with such evident delight. One by one the natives received their meal, and singly, or in groups of two or three, were swallowed up by the great forest. Already the little valley was in the shadow of the mountain, though the sun still shone brightly on the treetops higher up. Then Ollie and Sammy returned from the forks. Mr. Matthews had climbed the hill when the last grist was ground, leaving his son to cool down the engine and put things right about the mill. Come on, Matt, said Ollie as the big fellow brought out the meal, it's time you was a-going home. The young giant hung back, saying, You folks better go on ahead, I'll get home all right. I didn't think nothing would get you, laughed Ollie. Come on, you might as well go along with us. The other muttered something about being in the way, and started back into the shed. Hurry up, called Sammy, we're waiting. After this there was nothing else for the young man to do but join them. And the three were soon making their way up the steep mountain road together. For a time they talked of commonplace things, then young Matt opened the subject that was on all their hearts. I reckon, Ollie, this is the last time that you'll ever be a climb in this old road. As he spoke he was really thinking of the time to come when Sammy would climb the road for the last time. Yes, returned Stuart, I go to-morrow for sun-up. The other continued, It'll sure be fine for you to live in the city and get your school in and all that, as folks here in the woods don't know nothing. We ain't got no chance to learn. You'll be forgetting us all mighty quick, I reckon, once you get to live in with your rich kin. Deed I won't, returned Ollie warmly. Sammy and me was a-talking about that this evening. We aimed to always come back to Mutton Holler once a year, and be just like other folks, don't we, Sammy? The brown pony, stepping on a loose stone, stumbled toward the man walking by his side, and the big fellow put out his hand quickly to the little horse's neck. For an instant the girl's hand rested on the giant's shoulder, and her face was close to his. Then brownie recovered his footing, and young Matt drew farther away. Ollie continued, We aimed to have you come to the city after a while. I'm going to get Uncle Dan to give you a job in the shops, and you can get out of these hills and be somebody like Wien's. The tone was unmistakably patronizing. The big mountaineer lifted his head proudly, and turned toward the speaker. But before he could reply, Sammy broke in eagerly. Law, but that would sure be fine, wouldn't it, Matt? I know you'd do something big if you only had the chance. I'd just know you would. You're so—so kind of big every way, she laughed. It's a plumb shame for you to be buried alive in these hills. There was nothing said after this, until coming to the top of the ridge they stopped. From here Ollie and Sammy would take the old trail to the girl's home. Then with his eyes on the vast sweep of forest-clad hills and valleys, over which the blue haze was fast changing to purple in the level rays of the sun, young Matt spoke. I don't guess you'd better figure on that. Some folks are made to live in the city, and some ain't. I reckon I was built to live in these hills. I don't somehow feel like I could get along without them. And besides, I'd always be knocking against something there. He laughed grimly, and stretched out his huge arms. I've got to have room. Then there's the folks yonder. He turned his face toward the log-house, just showing through the trees. You know how it is, me being the only one left, and dad getting old. No, I don't guess you'd need to count on me being more than I am. Then suddenly he wheeled about, and looked from one face to the other. And there was a faint hint of defiance in his voice as he finished. I got an idea, too, that the backwoods needs men same as the cities. I don't see how there ever could be a city, even, if it wasn't for the men what cleared the brush. Somebody's got to lick wash-gib someday, or there just naturally won't be no decent living in the neighborhood ever. He held up his big hand to the man on the horse. Goodbye, and good luck to you, Ollie. The horses turned down the old trail, and with their riders passed from sight. That night, Sammy Lane said farewell to her lover. And with many promises for the future, Ollie rode away to his cabin home, to leave the next morning for that world that lies so far. So far away from the world of young Matt and his friends, the world that is so easy to get into after all, and so impossible to get out of, ever. End of chapters 10 and 11. Chapters 12 and 13 of The Shepherd of the Hills. This Libber Vox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Emily Jomard. The Shepherd of the Hills by Harold Bell Wright. Chapter 12 The Shepherd and His Flock. All that spring and summer things went smoothly in the Mutton Hollow neighborhood. The corn was ready to gather, and nothing had happened at the ranch since Mr. Howatt took charge, while the man who had appeared so strangely in their midst had made a large place for himself in the hearts of the simple mountaineers. At first they were disposed to regard him with some distrust, as one apart. He was so unlike themselves. But when he had changed his dress for the rough garb of the Hillsmen, and meeting them kindly upon their own ground, had entered so readily into their life, the people by common consent dropped the distinguishing title, Mr., for the more familiar one of the backwoods, Dad. Not that they lacked in respect or courtesy, it was only their way. And the quiet Shepherd accepted the title with a pleased smile, seeming to find in the change an honor to be received not lightly. But while showing such interest in all that made up their world, the man never opened the door for anyone to enter his past. They knew no more of his history than the hints he had given Mr. Matthews the night he came out of the mists. At the occasional religious meetings in the schoolhouse of the forks, Mr. Howett was always present, an attentive listener to the sermons of the backwoods' preacher. And then, seeing his interest, they asked him to talk to them one day when Parson Bigelow failed to make his appointment. He don't holler so much as a regular parson, said Uncle Josh Hensley, but he sure talks so weans can understand. In that time they always called upon him at their public gatherings. So the scholar from the world beyond the ridges slipped quietly into the life of the mountain folk, and took firm root in their affections. And in his face, so Preach and Bill, said, was the look of one who had done fought his fight to a finish and were too dead beat to even be glad it were all over. Between the giant Mr. Matthews and his shepherd, the friendship begun that night, grew always stronger. In spite of the difference in education and training, they found much in common. Some bond of fellowship, unknown to the mountaineer at least, drew them close, and the two men spent many evenings upon the front porch of the log-house in quiet talk, while the shadows crept over the valley below, and the light went from the sky back of the clump of pines. From the first, young Matt was strongly drawn to the stranger, who was to have such influence over his life. And Pete, Pete said, that God lived with Dad Howatt in Mutton Hollow. Pete somehow knew a great deal about God these days. A strange comradeship had come to be between the thoughtful gentleman who cared for the sheep, and the ignorant, sorely afflicted and nameless backwards boy. The two were always together, out on the hillside, and in the little glens and valleys, during the day with the sheep, or at the ranch in the Hollow, when the flock was safely folded and the night slipped quietly over the timbered ridges. Mr. Howatt had fixed a bunk in his cabin for the boy, so that he could come and go at will. Often the shepherd awoke in the morning to find that some time during the night his strange friend had come in from his roving. Even after seeing the boy soundly sleeping, the shepherd would arise in the morning to find the bunk empty. Sammy Lane, too, had fallen under the charm of the man with the white hair and poet's face. Sammy was not so often at the Matthew's place after Ali had gone to the city. The girl could not have told why. She had a vague feeling that it was better to stay away. But this feeling did not prevent her climbing the old trail to the lookout on the shoulder of Dewey, and she spent hours at the big rock, looking over the valley to where the smoke from Aunt Molly's kitchen curled above the trees. And sometimes against the sky, she could see a man and a team moving slowly to and fro in the field back of the house. When this happened, Sammy always turned quickly away to where the far off line of hills lay like a long, low cloud against the sky. Every week the girl rode her brown pony to the post office at the forks, and when she had a letter, things were different. She always stopped then at the Matthew's home. One day when this happened, Dad and Pete were on the ridge above the old trail, just where the north slope of Dewey shades into the rim of the hollow. The elder man was seated on low ground in the shade of an oak, with his back against the trunk of the tree. While the boy lay full length on the soft grass, looking up into the green depths of foliage, where a tiny brown bird flitted from bow to bow. In his quaint way, Pete was carrying on a conversation with his little friend in the treetop, translating freely the while for his less gifted, but deeply interested companion on the ground below. When brave, the shepherd dog, lying near, interrupted the talk by a short bark. Looking up, they saw a young mat riding along the summit of the ridge. The young man paused when he heard the dog, and caught sight of the two under the tree. Then he came to them, and seated himself on the grass at Pete's side. He spoke no word of greeting, and the look on his face was not good to see. Pete's eyes went wide with fear at the manner of his big friend, and he drew back as if to run. But when young mat, throwing himself over on the grass, had hidden his face. A half sad, half knowing look, came into the lad's delicate features. Reaching forth a hand, as slim as a girl's, he stroked the shaggy red-brown head as he murmured softly. Poor mat. Poor mat. Does it hurt? Is mat hurt? It'll be better by and by. The great form on the grass stirred impatiently. The shepherd spoke no word. Pete continued stroking the big head, and talking in low, soothing tones as one would hush a child. Pete don't know what's a hurtin' young mat. But it'll be all right some day. It'll sure grow over after a while. Ain't nothing won't grow over after a while. Because God, he says so. Still the older man was silent. Then the giant burst forth in curses, and the shepherd spoke. Don't do that, Grant. It's not like you, lad. You cannot help your trouble that way. Young mat turned over to face his friend. I know it, dad, he growled defiantly. But I just got to say something. I ain't mean in no respect to God Almighty. And I reckon he ought to know it. But he broke forth again. Pete drew back an alarm. Look your trouble in the face, lad, said the shepherd. Don't let it get you down like this. Look it in the face, roared the other. Good God, that's just it. Ain't I lookin' it in the face every day? You don't know about it, dad. If you did, you'd cuss too. He started in again. I know more than you think, Grant, said the other. When the big fellow had stopped swearing to get his breath. While he spoke, the shepherd was looking away along the old trail. There comes your trouble now, he added, pointing to a girl on a brown pony, coming slowly out of the timber near the deer-lick. The young man made no reply. Pete at the side of the girl started to his feet, but the big fellow pulled him down again, and made the boy understand that he must not betray their position. When Sammy reached the sheep, she checked her pony and searched the hillside with her eyes, while her clear call went over the mountain. Oh, dad! Young Matt shook his head savagely at his companion, and even brave was held silent by a low, be still, from his master. Again Sammy looked carefully on every side, but lying on the higher ground and partly hidden by the trees, the little group could not be seen. When there was no answer to her second call, the girl drew a letter from her pocket, and, permitting the pony to roam at will, proceeded to read. The big man, looking on, cursed again beneath his breath. It's from Ollie, he whispered to his companions. She stopped at the house. He says his uncle will give me a job in the shops, and that it'll be fine for me, because Ollie will be my boss himself. He, my boss, while dad burned his sneak and little soul, I could crunch him with one hand. I'd see him in hell before I'd take orders from him. I told her so too. He finished savagely. And what did she say? Asked the shepherd quietly, his eyes on the girl below. Just said, kind of short like, that she reckoned I could. Then I come away. The girl finished her letter, and, after another long call for dad, moved on over the shoulder of the mountain. Pete, who had withdrawn a little way from his companions, was busily talking in his strange manner to his unseen friends. Then young Matt opened his heart to the shepherd and told him all. It was the old, old story, and, as Mr. Howett listened, dreams that he had thought dead with the death of his only son stirred again in his heart, and his deep voice was vibrant with emotion as he sought to comfort the lad who had come to him. While they talked, the sun dropped until its lower edge touched the top of the tallest pine on Wolf Ridge, and the long shadows lay over the valley below. I'm mighty sorry I let go and cuss, dad, finished the boy, but I keep a holdin' in and a holdin' in till I'm plum-wild. Then something happens like that letter, and I go out on the range and bust. I've often wished you'd knowed. Seems like you're just knowin' about it will help me to hold on. I get scared at myself sometimes, dad, I do, honest. I'm glad, too, that you have told me, Grant. It means more to me than you can guess. I... I had a boy once, you know. He was like you. He would have come to me this way if he had lived. The sheep had begun working toward the lower ground. The shepherd rose to his feet. Take them home, brave. Come on, boys, you must eat with me at the ranch tonight. Then the three friends, the giant mountaineer, the strangely afflicted youth, and the old scholar went down the mountain side together. As they disappeared in the timber on the lower level, the bushes, near which they had been sitting, parted slightly, and a man's head and shoulders appeared from behind a big rock. The man watched the strange companions out of sight. Then the bushes swayed together, and the mountain seemed to have swallowed him up. The three friends had just finished their supper when Pete saw Sammy entering the ranch clearing. Young Matt caught up his hat. At the rear door he paused. I've got to go now, Dad, he said awkwardly. I can't see her any more today. But if you'll let me, I'll come again when things get too hot. The shepherd held out his hand. I understand, come always, my boy. The big fellow with Pete skipped away into the timber at the rear of the cabin. A moment before Sammy appeared at the open door in front. Chapter 13, Sammy Lane's Ambition. Lost Sakes cried Sammy looking at the table. You don't use all them dishes, do you, Dad? You sure must eat a lot. Oh, I eat enough, laughed Mr. Howet. But it happens that I had company this evening. Young Matt and Pete were here for supper. He brought two chairs outside the cabin. Shocks exclaimed Sammy as she seated herself and removed her son Bonnet. They must have eat and run. Wish I'd got here sooner. Young Matt ran away from me this afternoon and I wanted to see him about Mandy Ford's party next week. I'd done promise Mandy that I'd bring him. I reckon he'd go with me if I asked him. There is not the least doubt about that, observed the man. I'm sure anyone would be glad for such charming company. The girl looked up suspiciously. Are you a jokin', she said. Indeed, I am not. I am very much an earnest. Then taking a cob pipe from his pocket, he added politely. May I smoke? Huh? Oh, la, yes. What you ask me for? She watched him curiously as he filled and lighted the pipe. I reckon that's because you was raised in the city. She added slowly. Is that the way folks do there? Folks smoke here sometimes, do they not? He returned between puffs. I don't mean that. Of course they smoke and chew too and the women dip snuff some of them. Aunt Molly Matthews don't though and I ain't never going to, cause she don't. But nobody don't ask nobody else if they can. They just go ahead. That ain't the only way you're different from us though. She continued looking at Mr. Howatt with that wide questioning gaze. You're different in a heap of ways. Taint that you wear different clothes for you don't know more. Nor taint that you act like you are any better in us. I don't know what it is, but it's something. Take your stay in here in Mutton Hollow now, honest dad. Ain't you afraid to stay here all alone at nights? Afraid? Afraid of what? He looked at her curiously. Hance said the girl lowering her voice. Down there. She pointed toward the old ruined cabin under the bluff. She's sure been seen there. What if he was to come too? Don't you believe in Hance? The shepherd's face was troubled as he answered. I don't know, Sammy. I scarcely know what I believe. Some marvelous experiences are related by apparently reliable authorities. But I have always said that I could not accept the belief. I, I'm not so sure now. After all, the unseen world is not so very far away. Strange forces of which we know nothing are about us everywhere. I dare not say that I do not believe. But you ain't scared? Why should I fear? Sammy shook her head. Ain't another man or woman in the whole country would dast spend the night here, dad? Except Pete, of course. Not even young Matt, nor my daddy would do it. And I don't guess they're afraid of anything. Anything that's alive, I mean. You're sure different, dad. Plumb different. I reckon it must be the city that does it. And that's what I've come to see you about this evening. You see, Ollie's been telling me a lot about folks and things way over there. She waved her hand toward the ridges that shut in the hollow. And Ollie, he's changed to heap himself since he went there to live. I got a letter today. And when I went home, I hunted up the first one he wrote. And I can tell there's a right, smart difference already. You know all about Ollie and me going to get married, I reckon. Mr. Howitt admitted that he had heard something of that nature and Sammy nodded. I allowed you to know. But you don't know how mighty proud and particular Ollie always is. I figure that being in the city with all them one folks ain't going to make him any less that way than he was. And if he stays there and keeps on a-changing, and I stay here and don't change none, why it might be that I, I, she faltered and came to a dead stop, twisting her bonnet strings nervously in her confusion. Ollie, he ain't like young Matt know-how, she said again. Such as that wouldn't make no difference with him, but Ollie, well, you see, there was a twinkle now in the shepherd's eye as he answered. Yes, I see. I'm quite sure that I see. The girl continued, you know all about these things, dad, and there ain't nobody else here that does. Will you learn me to be a sure enough lady so as Ollie won't, so he won't? Again she paused in confusion. It was evident from the look on Mr. Howitt's face that whatever he saw it was not this. I feel somehow like I could do it. If I had a chance, she murmured. There was no answer. After a time Sammy stole a look at her quiet companion. What could the man in the chair be thinking about? His pipe was neglected, his gray head bowed. Course, said the young woman with just a little lifting of her chin. Course, if I couldn't never learn, there ain't no use to try. The old scholar raised his head and looked long at the girl. Her splendid form, glowing with the rich life and strength of the wilderness, showed in every line the proud old southern blood. Could she learn to be a fine lady? Mr. Howitt thought of the women of the cities. Pale, sickly, colorless, hot house posies. Beside this mountain flower. What would this beautiful creature be had she their training? What would she gain? What might she not lose? Allowed, he said. My dear child, do you know what it is that you ask? Sammy hunker head abashed at his serious tone. I allowed it would be right smart trouble for you, she said, but I could let you have brownie and pay. He ain't only five year old, and his sound is a button. He's all I've got, Mr. Howitt, but I'd be mighty proud to swap him to you. My girl, my girl, said the shepherd, you misunderstand me. I did not mean that. It would be a pleasure to teach you. I was thinking how little you realized what the real life of the city is like and how much you have that the fine ladies, as you call them, would give fortunes for and how little they have after all that could add one ray of brightness to your life. Sammy laughed aloud as she cried. Me got anything that anybody would want? Why, dad, I ain't got nothing but brownie and my saddle and that's all. I sure ain't got nothing to lose. The man smiled in sympathy. Then slowly a purpose formed in his mind. And if you should lose, you will never blame me. He said at last. Never, never, she promised eagerly. All right, it is a bargain, I will help you. The girl sprang to her feet. I knew you would, I knew you would. I was plum sure you would, she cried, fairly quivering with life and excitement. It's got to be a sure enough lady, dad. I want to be a really truly fine lady, like them Ollie tells about in his letters, you know. Yes, Sammy, I understand, a sure enough lady and we will do it, I am sure. But it will take a great deal of hard work on your part, though. I reckon it will, she returned soberly, coming back to her seat. Then drawing her chair a little closer, she leaned toward her teacher. Begin now, she commanded. Tell me what I must do first. Mr. Howatt carefully searched his pockets for a match and lighted his pipe again, before he said, First, you must know what a sure enough lady is. You see, Sammy, there are several kinds of women who call themselves ladies, but are not real ladies after all. And they all look very much like the sure enough kind. That is, they look like them to most people. Sammy nodded, just like them Thompson's down by flat rock. They're all mighty proud because they come from Illinois the same as the Matthews. You'd think to hear them that old Matt couldn't near run the ranch without him, and some folks, strangers like, might believe it. But we all know they ain't nothing, but just low down trash all the time and know better than some of them folks over on the bend. The shepherd smiled, something like that, I see you understand. Now a real lady, Sammy, is a lady in three ways. First in her heart, I mean just to herself in the things that no one but she could ever know. A sure enough lady does not pretend to be, she is. Again the girl broke in eagerly. That's just like Aunt Molly, ain't it? Couldn't no one ever have a finer lady heart than her? Indeed you are right, agreed the teacher heartily. And that is the thing that lies at the bottom of it all, Sammy. The lady heart comes first. I won't never forget that, she returned. I couldn't forget Aunt Molly know how. Tell me more, dad. Next, the sure enough lady must have a lady mind. She must know how to think and talk about the things that really matter. All the fine dresses and jewels in the world can't make a real lady if she does not think, or if she thinks only of things that are of no value. Do you see? Again the girl nodded and with a knowing smile answered quickly. I know a man like that and I see now that that is what makes him so different from other folks. It's the things he thinks about all to himself that does it. But I've got a heap to learn, I sure have. I could read all right if I had something to read and I reckon I could learn to talk like you if I tried hard enough. What else is there? Then continued the shepherd. A lady will keep her body as strong and as beautiful as she can, for this is one way that she expresses her heart and mind. Do you see what I mean? Sammy answered slowly. I reckon I do. You mean I mustn't get stooped over and thin-chested and go slouching around like so many of the girls and women around here do. And I mustn't let my clothes go without buttons because I am in a hurry and I must always comb my hair and keep my hands as wide as I can. Is that it? That's the idea, said the shepherd. Sammy gazed ruefully at a large rent in her skirt and at a shoe half laced. Then she put up a hand to her tumbled hair. I didn't think it made any difference when only home folks was around, she said. That's just it, my child, said the old man gently. I think a sure enough lady would look after these things whether there was anyone to see her or not, just for herself, you know. And this is where you can begin. I will send for some books right away and when they come we will begin to train your mind. But the heart, how will I get a lady heart, dad? How does the violet get its perfume, Sammy? Where does the rose get its color? How does the bird learn to sing its song? For a moment she was puzzled, then her face lighted. I see, she exclaimed, I'm just to catch it from folks like Aunt Molly and someone else I know. I'm just to be, not to make believe or let on like I was, but to be a real lady inside. And then I'm to learn how to talk and look like I know myself to be. She drew a long breath as she rose to go. It'll be mighty hard, dad, in some ways, but it'll sure be worth it all when I get out among the folks. I'm mighty thankful to you, I sure am. And I hope you won't never be sorry you promised to help me. As the girl walked swiftly away through the thickening desk of the evening, the shepherd watched her out of sight, then turned toward the corral for a last look at the sheep to see that all was right for the night. Brave old fellow, he said to the dog who trotted by his side. Are we going to make another mistake, do you think? We have made so many, so many, you know. Brave looked up into the master's face and answered with his low bark as though to declare his confidence. Well, well, old dog, I hope you are right. The child has a quick mind and a good heart. And if I'm not mistaken, good blood, we shall see. We shall see. Suddenly the dog whirled about, the hair on his back bristling as he gave a threatening growl. A man on a done-colored mule was coming up the road. End of chapters 12 and 13. Chapters 14 and 15 of the Shepherd of the Hills. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Emily Jomard. The Shepherd of the Hills by Harold Bell Wright. Chapter 14, The Common Yellerkind. Mr. Howitt stood quietly by the corral gate when the horseman rode up. It was Wash-Gibbs on his way home from an all-day visit with friends on the river. When the big mountaineer took the shortcut through Mutton Hollow, he thought to get well past the ranch before the light failed. No matter how well fortified with the courage distilled by his friend Jennings, the big man would never have taken the trail by the old ruined cabin alone after dark. He had evidently been riding at a good pace for his mule's neck and flanks were wet with sweat. Gibbs himself seemed greatly excited and one hand rested on the pistol at his hip as he pulled up in front of the Shepherd. Without returning Mr. Howitt's greeting, he pointed toward the two empty chairs in front of the house demanding roughly, who is that with you before you heard me coming? Sammy Lane was here a few minutes ago, replied the Shepherd. Gibbs uttered an oath. She was, was she? Well, who is the man? There was no man, returned the other. Young Matt and Pete were here for supper, but they went as soon as the meal was finished before Sammy came. Don't you try to lie to me? Exclaimed the big man with another burst of language and a threatening movement with a hand that rested on the pistol. Mr. Howitt was startled. Never in his life before had such words been addressed to him. He managed to reply with quiet dignity. I have no reason for deceiving you or anyone else, Mr. Gibbs. There has been no man here but myself since Matt and Pete left after supper. The Shepherd's manner carried conviction and Gibbs hesitated, evidently greatly perplexed. During the pause, Brave growled again and faced toward the cliff below the corral, his hair bristling. What's the matter with that dog? Said Gibbs, turning uneasily in his saddle to face in the direction the animal was looking. What is it, Brave? said Mr. Howitt. The only answer was an uneasy whine followed by another growl, all of which said plainly in dog-talk. I don't know what it is, but there is something over there on that cliff that I don't like. It must be some animal, said the Shepherd. Ain't no animal that makes a dog act like that. Did anybody pass while you was a-sittin' there just before I come in sight? Not a soul answered the other. Did you meet someone down the road? The big man looked at the Shepherd hard before he answered in a half-frightened, half-bullying tone. I see'd something in the road yonder and hit disappeared right by the old shack under the bluffs. He twisted around in his saddle again, facing the cliff with its dense shadows and dim twilight forms as he muttered. If I was only right, sure I. Then, swinging back, he leaned toward the old man on the ground. Look a-here, mister. There's them that lous there's things in this hear holler to be a-feared of, and I reckon hit so. There's sure been hell to pay at that there cabin down yonder. I ain't a-sayin' what it was, I see'd. But if it were anywhere else, I'da said it was a man. But if it was a man, I don't know why you didn't see him when he come past. Or else you're a-liin'. I just wanna tell ya. You're right smart of a stranger in these hear parts, even if you have been workin' for ol' mad all summer. You're too blame-careful about talkin' about yourself or tellin' where you come from, to suit some folks. Some strangers are all right, and again some ain't. But we don't aim to have nobody in this hear neighborhood what jumps into the brush when they see an honest man a-comin'. As he finished speaking, Gibbs straightened himself in the saddle, and before Mr. Howett could reply, the done mule, at a touch of the spur, had dashed away up the road in the direction taken by Sammy Lane. It was quite dark in the heavy timber of the hollow, by the time Sammy had reached the edge of the open ground on the hillside. But once on the higher level, clear of the trees, the strong glow of the western sky still lighted the way. From here it was not far to the girl's home, and as she climbed a spur of dewy, Sammy saw the cabin, and heard distinctly the sweet strains of her father's violin. On top of the rise, the young woman paused a moment to enjoy the beauties of the evening, which seemed to come to her with a new meaning that night. As she stood there, her strong young figure was clearly outlined against the sky to the man who was riding swiftly along the road over which she had just passed. Sammy turned when she heard the quick beating of the mule's feet, then recognizing the huge form of the horseman as he came out of the woods into the light. She started quickly away towards her home, but the mule and its rider were soon beside her. Howdy, Sammy. Gibbs leaped from the saddle, and with a bridal rain over his arm came close to the girl. Fine evening for a walk, Howdy returned the young woman coolly, quickening her pace. You needn't to be in such a powerful hurry, Groudwash. If you've got time to talk to that old cuss at the ranch, you sure got time to talk to me. Sammy turned angrily. You'd better get back on your mule and go about your business, Wash Gibbs. When I want you to walk with me, I'll let you know. That's all right, honey, exclaimed the other insolently. I'm a-going your way just the same, and we'll mosey long together. I was a-going home, but I've got business with your paw now. Worse thing for Daddy, too, flashed the girl. I wish you'd stay away from him. Wash laughed. Your Daddy couldn't keep house without me know-how. Who is that fella talking with you and the old man down yonder? There wasn't nobody talking to us, replied Sammy shortly. That's what he said, too, crowd Gibbs. But I sure see'd somebody as sneaking into the brush when I rode up. I thought when I was down there, it might've been a hint, but I know it was a man now. There's something mighty funny going on round here since that fella come into the neighborhood. And he'll sure find something in Mutton Holler more alive than old Matt's gal if he ain't careful. The girl caught her breath quickly. She knew the big Ruffians methods and with good reason feared for her old friend, should he even unconsciously incur the giant's displeasure. As they drew near the house, wash continued. Young Matt, he was there, too. Let me tell you I ain't forgot about his big show at the mill last spring. He'll have to do a heap better and he done then when I get round to him. Sammy laughed scornfully. Peers like you ain't been in no hurry to try it on. I ain't heard tell of young Matt's leave in the country yet. You'd better stay away from Jennings still, though, when you do try it. Then, while the man was tying his mule to the fence, she ran into the cabin to greet her father with a hysterical sob that greatly astonished Jim. Before explanations could be made, a step was heard approaching the door and Sammy had just time to say, wash Gibbs, an answer to her father's inquiring look when the big man entered. Mr. Lane arose to hang his violin on its peg. Don't stop for me, Jim, said the newcomer. Just let her go. Me and Sammy's been havin' a nice little walk and some right part music would sound mighty fine. Gibbs was angered beyond reason at Sammy's last words or he would have exercised greater care. Sammy's father made no reply until the girl had left the room. But whatever it was that his keen eye read in his daughter's face, it made him turn to his guest with anything but a cordial manner, and there was that in his voice that should have warned the other. So you and Sammy went for a walk, did you? She was comin' home from the sheep ranch and I caught up with her, explained Gibbs. Allowed is how she needed company, so I come long. Seemed to be about as welcome as usual, he added with an ugly grin, meanin' that my girl don't want your company and told you so, asked the other softly. Wash answered with a scowl. Sammy's gettin' too dad burned good for me since Ollie's uncle took him in. And now this here old man from nowhere has come, it's worse than ever. She'll put a rope round on next the first thing you know. Jim's right hand slipped quietly inside his hickory shirt where the button was missing as he drawled. My girl always was too good for some folks. And it's about time you was a-findin' it out. She can't help it, she was born that way. She's got mighty good blood in her veins that girl has. And I don't aim to ever let it be mixed up with none of the low down, common yeller kind. The deliberate purpose of the speaker was too evident to be mistaken. The other man's hand flew to his hip almost before Mr. Lane had finished his sentence. But wash was not quick enough. Like a flash Jim's hand was withdrawn from inside the hickory shirt and the giant looked squarely into the muzzle of Jim Lane's ever ready, murderous weapon. In the same even voice, without the slightest illusion to the unfinished movement of the other, Mr. Lane continued, I done told you before that my girl would pick her own company. And I ain't never feared for a minute that she'd take up with such as you. Ollie Stewart ain't so mighty much of a man maybe, but he's clean he is, and the stock's pretty good. Now you can just listen to me, or you can mosey out of that door, and the next time we meet we will settle it for good without any further arrangement. As Sammy's father talked, the big figure of his visitor relaxed. And when Jim had finished his slow speech, wash was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His hands clasped in front. We ain't got no call to fight now, Jim, he said in a tone of respect. We got something else to think about, and that's what I come here for tonight. I didn't name till I seed what I did at the ranch down yonder. I tell you it's time we was a doing something. At this Mr. Lane's face and manner changed quickly. He put up his weapon and the two men drew their chairs close together, as though death had not a moment before stretched forth his hand to them. For an hour they sat talking in low tones. Sammy in the next room had heard the conversation up to this point, but now only an occasional word reached her ears. Gibbs seemed to be urging some action, and her father was as vigorously protesting. I tell you Jim, it's the only safe way. He didn't used to be so squeamish. Several times the old shepherd was mentioned, and also the stranger whom Wash had seen that evening. And once the trembling girl heard young Matt's name. At length the guest rose to go, and Mr. Lane walked with him to the gate. Even after the big man was mounted, the conversation still continued. Wash still urging and Jim still protesting. When his visitor was gone, Mr. Lane came slowly back to the house. Extinguishing the light, he seated himself in the open doorway and filled his pipe. Sammy caught the odor of tobacco, and a moment later Jim heard a light quick step on the floor behind him. Then two arms went around his neck. What is it, Daddy? What is it? Why don't you drive that man away? Did you hear us talking? Asked the man, an anxious note in his voice. I heard you talking to him about pestering me, but after that you didn't talk so loud. What is the matter, Daddy, that he could stay and be so thick with you after the things you said? I was sure he'd make you kill him. Jim laughed softly. He heard just like your mother, girl. Just like her, with old blood abacking you up. Then he asked a number of questions about Mr. Howatt, and her visit to the ranch that evening. As Sammy told him of her ambition to fit herself for the place that would be hers when she married, and repeating the things that Mr. Howatt had told her, explained how the shepherd had promised to help. Jim expressed his satisfaction and delight. I knowed you was a studying about something, girl, he said. But I didn't say nothing, because I allowed you to tell me when you got ready. I didn't want to say nothing till I was sure you see, replied the daughter. I aimed to tell you as soon as I got home tonight, but Wash Gibbs didn't give me no chance. The man held her close. Dad Howatt sure put the thing just right, Sammy. It'll be old times come back when you're a lady in your own house with all your fine friends around. And you'll do it, girl, you sure will. Don't never be afraid to bank on the old blood, it'll see you through. Then his voice broke. You won't never be learned away from your old daddy, will you, honey? Will you always stand by daddy like you do now? Will you let me and young Matt slip round once in a while just to look at you all so fine? Daddy, Jim, if you don't hush, I'll, I'll. She hit her face on his shoulder. There, there, honey, I was only funnin'. You'll always be my Sammy, the only boy I ever had. You just naturally couldn't be nothin' else. Long after his daughter had gone to her room and to her bed, the mountaineer sat in the doorway, looking into the dark. He heard the short bark of a fox in the brush back of the stable, and the wild cry of a catamount from a cliff farther down the mountain was answered by another from the timber below the spring. He saw the great hills heaving their dark forms into the sky, and in his soul he felt the spirit of the wilderness and the mystery of the hour. At last he went into the house to close and bar the door. Away down in Mutton Hollow a dog barked, and high up on Old Dewey near Sammy's lookout, a spot of light showed for a moment, then vanished. Chapter 15 The Party at Ford's Young Matt would have found some excuse for staying at home the night of the party at Ford's, but the shepherd said he must go. The boy felt that the long evening with Sammy would only hurt. He reasoned with himself that it would be better for him to see as little as possible of the girl who was to marry Ollie Stewart. Nevertheless he was singing as he saddled the big white-faced sorrel to ride once more over the trail that is nobody knows how old. Mr. Lane was leading the brown pony from the stable as young Matt rode up to the gate. And from the doorway of the cabin, Sammy called to say that she would be ready in a minute. Ain't seen you for a coon's age, boy, said Jim while they were waiting for the girl. Why don't you never come down the old trail no more? The big fellow's face reddened as he answered, I ain't been nowhere, Jim. Peers like I just can't get away from the place no more. We're that busy. Sammy's father looked his young neighbor squarely in the eye with that peculiar searching gaze. Looka here, Grant. I've known you ever since you was born and you ought to know me a little. Taint your way to dodge and taint mine. I reckon you know your welcome same as always, don't you? Young Matt returned the others look fairly. I ain't never doubted it, Jim, but things is a heap different now since it's all done and settled with Ollie gone. The two understood each other perfectly, said Jim, drawing a long breath. Well, I wish you'd come over just the same anyway. It can't do nobody no harm as I can see. It wouldn't do me no good, replied the young man. Maybe not, assented Jim, but I'd like Mightywell to have you come just the same. Then he drew closer to his young friend. I've been aiming to ride over and see you, Matt, but Sammy said you was a come in this evening and allowed this would be soon enough. I reckon you know what Wash Gibbs is telling he aims to do first chance he gets. The giant drew himself up with a grim smile. I've heard a good bit, Jim, but you don't need to mind about me. I know I ain't quite grod, but I am a-growing. The older man surveyed the great form of the other with a critical eye as he returned. Durned if I don't believe you'd push him mighty close if you'd only play fair. But I allowed you ought to know it was a come in. I have known it for a long time, said the other cheerfully. But I heard Preach and Bill say once that if a feller don't fuss about what he knows for sure the things he don't know ain't apt to bother him none. It's this here guessing that sure gets a man down. Preach and Bill hits at every pop, don't he? exclaimed Jim admiringly. But there's something else you ought to know too, Matt. Wash has done made his threat sig in the old man down there. You mean Dad Howett? said young Matt sharply. What's Wash got again, Dad, Jim? Mr. Lane shifted uneasily. Some fool notion of hisen. You mind old man Lewis, I reckon? The big man's muscles tightened. Dad told us about his stoppin' at the ranch the other night. Wash Gibbs better keep his hands off, Mr. Howett. I ain't told nobody about this, Grant, and you can do as you like about tellin' your father and the old man. But if anything happens, get word to me quick. Before more could be said, Sammy appeared in the doorway and soon the two young people were riding on their way. Long after they had passed from sight in the depth of the forest, the dark mountaineer stood at the big gate, looking in the direction they had gone. Young Matt was like a captive tugging at his bonds. Mr. Lane's words had stirred the fire, and the girl's presence by his side added fuel to the flame. He could not speak. He dared not even look at her, but rode with his eyes fixed upon the ground where the sunlight fell in long bars of gold. Sammy, too, was silent. She felt something that was strangely like fear when she found herself alone with her big neighbour. Now and then she glanced timidly up at him, and tried to find some word with which to break the silence. She half wished that she had not come. So they rode together through the lights and shadows down into the valley, the only creatures in all the free life of the forest who were not free. At last the girl spoke. It's mighty good of you to take me over to Mandy's tonight. There ain't no one else I could have gone with. There was no reply, and Sammy, seeming not to notice, continued talking in a matter-of-fact tone that soon, for such is the way of a woman, won him from his mood, and the two chatted away like the good comrades they had always been. Just after they had crossed Fall Creek at Slick Rock Ford, some two miles below the mill, young Matt leaned from his saddle, and for a little way studied the ground carefully. When he sat erect again he remarked with the air of one who had reached a conclusion. Wouldn't wonder but there'll be doings at Ford's tonight, sure enough. There's sure to be, returned the girl. Everybody'll be there. Mandy's folks from over on Long Creek are coming, and some from the mouth of the James. Mandy wanted Daddy to play for him, but he says he can't play for parties no more, and they got that old fiddlin' Jake from the flag neighborhood, I guess. There'll be something a heap more exciting than fiddlin' and dancin' according to my guess, returned young Matt. What do you mean? asked Sammy. Her escort pointed to the print of a mule's shoe in the soft soil of the low-bottom land. That there's Wash Gibbs's done mule, and he's headed down the creek for Jennings's still. Wash'll meet a lot of his gang from over on the river, and likes not they'll go from there to the party. I wish your dad was going to do the playin' tonight. It was full dark before they reached the Ford clearing. The faint, far away sound of a violin, seeming strange and out of place in the gloomy solitude of the great woods. First told them that other guests had already arrived. Then, as they drew nearer, and the tones of the instrument grew louder, they could hear the rhythmic swing and beat of heavily shod feet upon the rough-bored floors. With the shrill cries of the collar, and the half-savage, half-pathetic sing-song of the backwood's dancers, singing Missouri Gal. Reaching the edge of the clearing, they involuntarily checked their horses, stopping just within the shadow of the timber. Hear the sound of the squeaking fiddle, the shouting collar, the stamping feet, and the swinging dancers came with full force. And through the open door and windows of the log-house, they could see the wheeling, swaying figures of coatless men and calico-gound women, while the light streaming out opened long lanes in the dusk. About them, in the forest's edge, standing in groups under the trees, where the shadowy forms of saddle-horses and mules tied by their bridal reins to the lower branches, and nearer to the cabin, two or three teams, tied to the rail-fence, stood hitched to big wagons in which were splint-bottom chairs for extra seats. During the evening, the men tried in their rough, good-natured way to joke young Matt about taking advantage of Ollie Stewart's absence, but they very soon learned that, while the big fellow was ready to enter heartily into all the fun of the occasion, he would not receive as a jest any allusion to his relation to the girl whom he had escorted to the party. Sammy, too, when her big companion was not near, suffered from the crude wit of her friends. Ollie Stewart don't only yet, she declared with a toss of the head when someone threatened to write her absent lover. No, replied one of her tormentors, but you ain't aimin' to miss your chance to go into this city to live with them big bugs. In the laugh that followed, Sammy was claimed by a tall woodsman for the next dance, and escaped to take her place on the floor. Well, Ollie'll sure make a good man for her, remarked another joker. If he don't walk the chalk, she can take him cross her knee and wallop him. She'll surely marry him all right, said the first, because he's got the money, but she's going to have a heap of fun making young Matt play the fool before she leaves the woods. He ain't took his eyes off her to-night. Everybody's laughin' at him. I noticed they take mighty good care to laugh behind his back, flashed little black-eyed Annie Brooke from the Cove neighborhood. Young Matt, who had been dancing with Mandy Ford, came up behind the group just in time to hear their remarks. Two or three who saw him within hearing tried to warn the speakers, but while everybody around them saw the situation, the two men caught the frantic signals of their friends too late. The music suddenly stopped. The dancers were still. By instinct every eye in the room was fixed upon the little group as the jokers turned to face the object of their jests. The big mountaineer took one long step toward the two who had spoken. His brow dark with rage, his huge fists clenched. But even as his powerful muscles contracted for the expected blow, the giant came to a dead stop. Slowly his arm relaxed. His hand dropped to his side. Then, turning deliberately, he walked to the door, the silent crowd parting to give him way. As the big man stepped from the room, a gasp of astonishment escaped from the company, and the two jokers, with frightened faces, broke into a shrill, nervous laughter. Then a buzz of talk went round. The fiddlers struck up again. The callers shouted. The dancers stamped and bowed and swung their partners as they sang. And out in the night, under the trees, at the edge of the gloomy forest, the strongest man in the hills was saying over and over to the big white-faced sorrel. I don't dare do it. I don't dare. Dad how it wouldn't. He sure wouldn't. Very soon two figures left the house. And hurried toward a bunch of saddle-horses nearby. They had untied their animals and were about to mount, when suddenly a huge form stepped from the shadows to their horse's heads. Put up your guns, boys, said young Matt calmly. I reckon you know that if I'd wanted trouble, it would have been all over before this. The weapons were not drawn, and the big man continued. Dad how it says a feller always whips himself every time he fights when there ain't no, no principle evolved. I don't guess Dad would see airy principle in this, because there might be some truth in what you boys said. I reckon I am something at play in a fool, but it would have been a heap safer for you to let folks find it out for themselves. We were all just a foolin', Matt, muttered one. That's all right, returned the big fellow. But you'd better tie up again and go back into the house and dance a while longer. Folks might think you was scared if you was to leave so soon. End of chapters 14 and 15. Chapter 16 and 17 of The Shepherd of the Hills. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Emily Jomard. The Shepherd of the Hills by Harold Bell Wright. Chapter 16 On the Way Home Not until the party was breaking up, and he saw Sammy in the doorway, did young Matt go back to the house? When they had ridden again out of the circle of light, and the laughter and shouting of the guests was no longer heard, Sammy tried in vain to arouse her silent escort, chatting gaily about the pleasures of the evening. But all the young man's reserve had returned. When she did force him to speak, his responses were so short and cold, that at last the girl, too, was silent. Then, manlike, he wished she would continue talking. By the time they reached Compton Ridge, the moon was well up. For the last two miles Sammy had been watching the wavering shafts of light that slipped through the tremulous leaves and swaying branches. As they rode a thousand fantastic shapes appeared and vanished along the way. And now and then, as the sound of their horses feet echoed through the silent forest, some wild thing in the underbrush leaped away into the gloomy depth. Coming out on top of the narrow ridge, the brown pony crowded closer to the big white-faced sorrel. And the girl, stirred by the weird loveliness of the scene, broke the silence with an exclamation. Oh, Matt, ain't it fine? Look there! She pointed to the view ahead. Makes me feel like I could keep on a-going and going and never stop. The man, too, felt the witchery of the night. The horses were crowding more closely together now, and, leaning forward, the girl looked up into his face. What's the matter, Matt? Why don't you talk to me? You know it ain't true what them folks said back there. The sorrel was jerked farther away. It's true enough so far as it touches me, returned the man shortly. When are you going to the city? I don't know, she replied. Let's don't talk about that tonight. I don't want even to think about it, not tonight. You—you don't believe what they was saying, Matt. You know you don't. You mustn't ever believe such as that. I—I never could get along without you and Aunt Molly and Uncle Matt know how. The brown pony was again crowding closer to his mate. The girl laid a hand on her companion's arm. Say you don't blame me for what they said, Matt. You know I wouldn't do no such thing even if I could. There mustn't anything ever come between you and me. Never. Never. I—I want us always to be like we are now. You've been so good to me ever since I was a little trick, and you whipped Big Lem Wheeler for teasing me. I—I don't guess I could get along without knowing you was around somewhere. She finished with half a sob. It was almost too much. The man swung around in his saddle, and the horses apparently of their own accord stopped. Without a word the big fellow stretched forth his arms, and the girl, as if swept by a force beyond her control, felt herself swaying toward him. The spell was broken by the trampling of horses and the sound of loud voices. For a moment they held their places, motionless, as if rudely awakened from a dream. The sound was coming nearer. Then young Matt spoke. It's Wash Gibbs and his crowd from the still, right into the brush, quick. There was no time for flight. In the bright moonlight they would have been easily recognized, and a wild chase would have followed. Leaving the road they forced their horses into a thick clump of bushes, where they dismounted, to hold the animals by their heads. Scarcely had they gained this position when the first of the crowd reached the spot where they had been a moment before. Wash Gibbs was easily distinguished by his gigantic form, and with him were ten others, riding two and two, several of whom were known to young Matt as the most lawless characters in the country. All were fired by drink and were laughing and talking, with now and then a burst of song or a vulgar jest. I say, Wash, called one, what'll you do if young Matt's there? The unseen listeners could not hear the leaders reply, but those about the speaker laughed and shouted with great glee. Then the two in the bushes distinctly heard the last man in the line ask his companion. Do you reckon he'll put up a fight? And as they passed from sight the other answered, Wash don't aim to give him no show. When the sounds had died away, young Matt turned to the girl. Come on, we've got to keep him in sight. But Sammy held back. Oh, Matt, don't go yet. We must not. Didn't you hear what that man said? It's you there after. Let's wait here until they're clean gone. No taint. They ain't a wanton me, the big fellow replied. And before the young woman could protest further, he lifted her to the saddle, as easily as if she were a child. Then, springing to the back of his own horse, he led the way at a pace that would keep them within hearing of the company of men. Who is it, Matt? Who is it if it ain't you? asked the girl. Don't know for sure yet, but I'll tell you pretty soon. They had not gone far when young Matt stopped the horse to listen intently, and soon by the sound he could tell that the party ahead had turned off the ridge road and were following the trail that leads down the eastern side of the mountain. A moment longer the mountaineer listened, as if to make sure, then he spoke. Them devils are going to the ranch after Dad how it. Sammy, you've got to ride hard tonight. They won't hear you now, and they're getting farther off every minute. There ain't no other way, and I know you'll do it for the old man. Get home as quick as you can and tell Jim what's up. Tell him I'll hold him until he gets there. Even as he spoke, he sprang from his horse and began loosening the saddle girths. But Matt, protested the girl, how can you? You can't get by them. How are you going to get there in time? Down the mountain, short cut, he answered as he jerked the heavy saddle from his horse and threw it under some nearby bushes. But they'll kill you. You can't never face that whole crowd alone. I can do it better in Dad and him not a looking for them. Slipping the bridle from the sorrel, he turned the animal loose, and removing his coat and hat, laid them with the saddle. Then to the girl on the pony, he said sharply, Go on, Sammy. Why don't you go on? Don't you see how you're losing time? Them devils will do for Dad how it like they done for old man Lewis. Your father's the only man can stop him now. Ride hard, girl, and tell Jim to hurry. And goodbye, Sammy. As he finished, he spoke to her horse and struck him such a blow that the animals sprang away. For a moment Sammy attempted to pull up her startled pony. Then young Matt saw her lean forward in the saddle and urged the little horse to even greater speed. As they disappeared down the road, the giant turned and ran crashing through the brush down the steep side of the mountain. There was no path to follow, and with deep ravines to cross, rocky bluffs to descend or scale, and in places wild tangles of vines and brush and fallen trees, the trip before him would have been a hard one even in the full light of day. At night it was almost impossible, and he must go like a buck with the dogs in full cry. When Sammy came inside of her home, she began calling to her father, and as the almost exhausted horse dashed up to the big gate, the door of the cabin opened, and Jim came running out. Lifting his daughter from the trembling pony, he helped her into the house where she sobbed out her message. At the first word, wash gibbs. Jim reached for a cartridge belt, and by the time Sammy had finished, he had taken his Winchester from its brackets over the fireplace. Slipping a bridle on his horse that was feeding in the yard, he sprang upon the animal's back without waiting for a saddle. Stay in the cabin, girl. Put out the light, and don't open the door until I come, he said, and he was gone. As Sammy turned back into the house, from away down in Mutton Hollow, on the night wind, came the sound of guns. Chapter 17 What Happened At The Ranch It was after midnight when Mr. Howatt was rudely awakened. The bright moon shining through the windows lit up the interior of the cabin, and he easily recognized young Matt standing by the bed with Pete, who was sleeping at the ranch that night, nearby. Why, Matt, what is the matter? exclaimed the shepherd, sitting up. He could not see that the big fellow's clothing was torn, that his hat was gone, and that he was dripping with perspiration. But he could hear his labored breathing. Strong as he was, the young giant was nearly exhausted by the strain of his race over the mountains. Get up quick, Dad. I'll tell you while you're putting on your clothes. The woodsman answered, and while the shepherd dressed, he told him in a few words, finishing with, call brave inside and get your gun with all the shells you can find. Don't show a light for a minute. They'll be here any time now, and it'll be a good bit yet before Sammy can get home. He began fastening the front door. The peaceful-minded scholar could not grasp the meaning of the message. It was to him an impossible thought. You must be mistaken, Grant, he said. Surely you are excited and unduly alarmed. Wash Gibbs has no reason to attack me. Young Matt replied gruffly, I ain't making no mistake in the woods, Dad. You ain't in the city now, and there ain't no one can hear you holler. Don't think I am scared neither, if that's what you mean. But there's ten of them in that bunch and their bad ones. He'd better call brave, sir. He'll be some help when it comes to the rush. But the other persisted. You must be mistaken, lad. Why should anyone wish to harm me? Those men are only out fox-hunting, or something like that. If they should be coming here, it is all a mistake I can easily explain. Explain hell, ejaculated the mountaineer. I ask your pardon, Dad, but you don't know not being raised in these woods like me. Old man Lewis hadn't done nothing neither, and he explained too, only he never got through explaining. They ain't got no reason they're drunk. You've never seen Wash Gibbs drunk, and tonight he's got his whole gang with him. I don't know why he's coming after you, but from what you told me about his stop and hear that evening, and what I've heard lately I can guess. I know what he'll do when he gets here if we don't stop him. It'll be all the same to you whether he's right or wrong. Brave came trotting into the cabin through the rear door, and lay down in his corner by the fireplace. That's mighty funny, said young Matt. Then as he glanced quickly around. Where's Pete? The boy had slipped away while the two men were talking. Stepping outside they called several times, but saved the of an owl in a big tree near the corral there was no answer. The boy's all right, anyway, said the young man. Nothing in the woods ever hurts Pete. He's safer there than he would be here, and I'm glad he's gone. The shepherd did not reply. He seemed not to hear, but stood as though fascinated by the scene. He still could not grasp the truth of the situation, but the beauty of the hour moved him deeply. What a marvelous, what a wonderful sight, he said at last in a low tone. I do not wonder the boy loves to roam the hills a night like this. Look, Grant, see how soft the moonlight falls on that patch of grass this side of the old tree yonder, and how black the shadow is under that bush, like the mouth of a cave, a witch's cave. I am sure there are ghosts and goblins in there, with fairies and gnomes, and perhaps a dragon or two. And see, lad, how the great hills rise into the sky. How grand, how beautiful the world is. It is good to live, Matt, though life be sometimes hard, still. Still it is good to live. At the old scholar's words and manner, the mountaineer too forgot for a moment the thing that had brought him there, and a look of awe and wonder came over his rugged features, as the shepherd with his face turned upward, and his deep voice full of emotion repeated. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork, day and to day uttereth speech, and night and to night showeth knowledge. The owl left his place in the old tree, and flew across the moonlight clearing into the deeper gloom of the woods. Inside the cabin the dog barked, and threw the still night from down the valley, where the ranch trail crosses the creek, came the rattle of horses feet on the rocky floor of the little stream, and the faint sound of voices. Young Matt started, and again the man of the wilderness was master of the situation. There come and, Dad, we ain't got no time to lose. Re-entering the cabin, Mr. Howett quieted the dog, while his companion fastened the rear door, and in the silence while they waited, a cricket under the corner of the house sang his plaintive song. The sound of voices grew louder as the horses drew nearer, brave growled and would have barked again, but was quieted by the shepherd who crouched at his side with one hand on the dog's neck. The older man smiled to himself. It all seemed to him so like a child's game. He had watched the mountaineer's preparation with amused interest, and had followed the young woodsman's directions, even to the loaded shotgun in his hand, as one would humor a boy in his play. The scholar's mind, trained to consider the problems of civilization and to recognize the dangers of the city, refused to entertain seriously the thought that there, in the peaceful woods, in the dead of night, a company of ruffians was seeking to do him harm. The voices had ceased, and the listeners heard only the sound of the horses' feet, as the party passed the ruined cabin under the bluff. A moment or two later the rider stopped in front of the ranch house, brave growled again but was silenced by the hand on his neck. Young Matt was at the window. I see them, he whispered. They're getting off their horses and tying them to the corral fence. The smile on the shepherd's face vanished, and he experienced a queer sensation. It was as though something gripped his heart. The other continued his whispered report. They're bunching up now under the old tree, talking things over. Don't know what to make of the dog-knot being around, I reckon. Now they're taking a drink. It takes a lot of whiskey to help ten men jump onto one old man and him a stranger in the woods. Now Wash is sending two of them around to the back so you can't slip out into the brush. Shhh! Here comes a couple more to try the front door. He slipped quietly across the room to the shepherd's side. The visitors came softly up to the front door and tried it gently. A moment later the rear door was tried in the same way. Let brave speak to them, whispered young Matt. And the dog, feeling the restraining hand removed, barked fiercely. Mr. Howatt, following his companion's whispered instructions, spoke aloud. What's the matter, brave? A bold knock at the front door caused the dog to redouble his efforts, until his master commanded him to be still. Who is there? called the shepherd. Young Matt took powerful bad, answered a voice. And they want you to come up to the house and doctor him. A drunken laugh came from the old tree followed by a smothered oath. The giant at Mr. Howatt's side growled under his breath. Oh, I'm sick, am I? There's them that'll be a heap sicker before morning. Keep on a talking, Dad. We've got to make all the time we can so as Jim can get here. The shepherd called again. I do not recognize your voice. You must tell me who you are. Outside there was a short consultation, followed by a still louder knock. Open up. Why don't you open up and see who we are? While from under the tree came a call. Quit your fooling and bring him out of there, you fellers. This command was followed by a still more vigorous hammering at the door and the threats. Open up, old man. Open up or we'll sure bust her in. Mr. Howatt whispered to his companion. Let me open the door and talk to them, Grant. Surely they will listen to reason. But the woodsman returned. Talk to a nest of rattlers. Jim lanes the only man that can talk to them now. We've got to stand them off as long as we can. As he spoke he raised his revolver and was about to fire a shot through the door when a slight noise at one side of the room attracted his attention. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a face as it was withdrawn from one of the little windows. The noise at the door ceased suddenly and they heard the two men running to join the group under the tree. They found you ain't alone, whispered the big fellow, springing to the window again. And as a wild drunken yell came from the visitors he added, seems like they're some excited about it too. They're holding their regular pow-wow. What do you reckon they're thinking? Hope they'll keep it up till Jim. Here comes another. It's at Ornery Jim Bowles from the mouth of Indian Creek. The man approached the cabin but stopped some distance away and called. Hello, old man. Well, what do you want? answered Mr. Howatt. Who's that fellow you got with you? A friend. Yes, we loud hit were a friend and we all want to see him powerful bad. Can't he come out and play with us, Mr.? Another laugh came from the group under the tree. Young Matt whispered, keep him a-talking, dad. And Mr. Howatt called. He doesn't feel like playing tonight. Come back tomorrow. At this the spokesman dropped his bantering tone. Look a-here, old man. We and Zank got no time to be a-foolin' here. We know who that fellow is and we are going to have him. He's been a-sneakin' round this here neighborhood long enough. As for you, Mr., we allow your health'll be some better back where you come from, and we aim to help you leave this neck of the woods right sudden. Open up now and turn that there fellow over to us, and we'll let you off easy like. If you don't, we'll bust in the door and make you both dance to the same tune. There won't be anything under you to dance on, n-other. The old shepherd was replying kindly when his speech was interrupted by a pistol shot, and the command from the leader, at which the entire gang charged toward the cabin, firing as they came and making the little valley hideous with their drunken oaths and yells. From his window, young Matt coolly emptied his revolver. But even as the crowd faltered, there came from their leader another volley of oaths. Go on, go on, yelled Wash. Their guns are empty now. Fetch them out, for they can load again. With an answering yell the others responded, carrying a small log they made for the cabinet full speed. One crashing blow, the door flew from its hinges, and the opening was filled with the drunken, sweating, swearing crew. The same instant young Matt dropped his useless revolver, and springing forward met them on the threshold. The old shepherd, who had not fired a shot, could scarcely believe his eyes, as he saw the giant catch the nearest man by the shoulder and waist, and lifting him high above his head, fling him with terrific force, full into the faces of his bewildered companions. Those who were not knocked down by the strange weapon scattered in every direction crouching low. For a moment the big fellow was master of the situation, and standing alone in the doorway in the full light of the moon was easily recognized. Hell, boys, hits young Matt himself, yelled the one who had raised a laugh, by saying that young Matt was sick, and the shepherd was wanted to doctor. Yes, it's me, Bill Simpson, I'm sure Aylen tonight. I need somebody to go for a doctor, powerful bad, returned the young giant. We never knowed it were you, whined the other, carefully lengthening the distance between the big man on the doorstep and himself. No, I reckon not, you all played to find an old man alone and do for him like you've done for others. A fine lot you are, tend to one, and him not know in the woods. While he was speaking the men slowly retreated to gather about their big leader under the tree, two of them being assisted by their companions, and one other limping painfully. Young Matt raised his voice. I know you wash-gibbs, and I know this here is your dirty work. You've been a-bragging what you do when you met up with me, I'm here now. Why don't you come up like a man, come out here into the light, and let's you and me settle this thing right now. You all, crack! A jet of flame leaped out of the shadow, and the speaker dropped like a log. With a cry the shepherd ran to the side of his friend, but in a moment the crowd had again reached the cabin, and the old man was dragged from his fallen companion. With all his strength Mr. Howitt struggled with his captors begging them to let him go to the boy, but his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and when he still pleaded with those who held him, wash-gibbs struck him full in the mouth, a blow that brought the blood. They were leading the stunned and helpless old man away, when someone who was bending over Young Matt exclaimed, You missed him, wash! Just raked him! He'll be up in a minute, and hell will be to pay in the wilderness if he ain't tied! Better fix him quick! The big fellow already showed signs of returning consciousness, and by the time they had tied his arms he was able to struggle to his feet. For a moment he looked dizzily around, his eyes turning from one evil triumphant face to another, until they rested upon the bleeding countenance of his old friend. The shepherd's eyes smiled back a message of cheer, and the kind old man tried to speak when wash-gibbs made another threatening motion with his clenched fist. At this a cry like the roar of a mad bull came from the young giant. In his rage he seemed suddenly endowed with almost superhuman strength. Before a man of the startled company could do more than gasp with astonishment, he had shaken himself free from those who held him, and breaking the rope with which he was bound as though it were twine had leaped to the shepherd's side. But it was useless. For a moment no one moved. Then a crashing blow from the butt of a rifle in the hands of a man in the rear of the two prisoners sent young Matt once more to the ground. When he again regained consciousness he was so securely bound that even with his great strength he was helpless. Leading their captives to the old tree the men withdrew for a short consultation and to refresh themselves with another drink. When they had finished, Gibbs addressed the two friends. Weans didn't aim to hurt you young Matt, but seeing how you're so thick with this here feller, and peer to know so much about him, I reckon we can't help ourselves know how. He turned to the shepherd. There's been two dad-burn much funny work at this ranch since you come, mister, and Weans Lau will just give warning that we don't want no more strangers snooping round this neighborhood, and we don't aim to have them, neither. Weans Lau we can take care of ourselves without any help from the dad-burn government. The shepherd tried to speak, but Gibbs with an oath roared. Shut up I tell you. Shut up. I've been a-watching and I know what I know. Fix that their rope, boys, and we'll get through and Mosey long out of here. Ain't no use to Pallaver know how. A rope was thrown over a limb above their heads, and a man approached the shepherd with a noose. Young Matt struggled desperately. With an evil grin Gibbs said, Don't you worry, sonny, you're going too. And at his signal another rope was fixed, and the noose placed over the young man's head. The men took their places awaiting the word from their leader. The shepherd spoke softly to his companion. Thank you, my boy. The giant began another desperate struggle. Wash Gibbs, raising his hand, opened his lips to give the signal. But no word came. The brutal jaw dropped. The ruffian's eyes fairly started from his head, while the men who held the ropes stood as if turned to stone, as a long wailing cry came from the dark shadows under the bluff. There was a moment of deathlike silence. Then another awful sobbing groan rising into a blood-curdling scream came from down the road, and from the direction of the ruined cabin advanced a ghostly figure. Through the deep shadows and the misty light it seemed to float toward them, moaning and sobbing as it came. A shuddering gasp of horror burst from the frightened crew under the tree. Then, at a louder wail from the approaching apparition, they broke and ran. Like wild men they leaped for their horses and flinging themselves into their saddles, fled in every direction. Young Matt and the shepherd sank upon the ground in helpless amazement. As the outlaws fled the spectre paused. Then it started onward toward the two men. Again it hesitated. For a moment it remained motionless, then turned and vanished, just as Jim Lane came flying out of the timber into the bright light of the little clearing. End of Chapter 16 and 17