TOJAMESLANEALLEN
　　I
　　AsClaytonrosetohisfeetinthestillair，thetree—topsbegantotrembleinthegapbelowhim，andaripplingranthroughtheleavesupthemountain—side。Drawingoffhishathestretchedouthisarmstomeetit，andhiseyesclosedasthecoolwindstruckhisthroatandfaceandliftedthehairfromhisforehead。Abouthimthemountainslaylikeatumultuoussea—theJellicoSpur，stilledgraduallyoneverysideintovague，purpleshapesagainstthebrokenrimofthesky，andPineMountainandtheCumberlandRangeracinginlikebreakersfromthenorth。UnderhimlayJellicoValley，andjustvisibleinawoodedcove，whenceIndianCreekcreptintosight，wasamining—camp—aclusterofwhitecabins—fromwhichhehadclimbedthatafternoon。Atthatdistancethewagon—roadnarrowedtoabridle—path，andthefiguremovingslowlyalongitandenteringtheforestatthebaseofthemountainwasshrunktoatoy。ForamomentClaytonstoodwithhisfacetothewest，drinkingintheair；thentighteninghisbelt，hecaughtthepliantbodyofasaplingandswungloosefromtherock。Asthetreeflewback，hisdogsprangafterhim。Thedescentwassharp。Attimeshewasforcedtoclingtothebirch—topstilltheylayflatonthemountain—side。
　　Breathless，hereachedatlastabowlderfromwhichthepathwaseasytothevalleybelow，andheleanedquiveringagainstthesoftrugofmossandlichensthatcoveredit。Theshadowshadcreptfromthefootofthemountains，darkeningthevalley，andliftingupthemountain—sidebeneathhimalong，waveringlineinwhichmetthecool，deepgreenoftheshadeandtheshiningbronzewherethesunlightstilllay。Lazilyfollowingthisline，hiseyecaughttwomovingshadowsthatdartedjaggedshapesintothesunlightandasquicklywithdrewthem。Astheroadwounduptowardhim，twofiguresweresoonvisiblethroughtheundergrowth。Presentlyaheadbonnetedinblueroseabovethebushes，andClayton’shalf—shuteyesopenedwideandwerefixedwithalookofamusedexpectancywhereaturnofthepathmustbringriderandbeastintoplainsight。Apparentlysomemountaingirl，weariedbytheclimborinaspiritoffun，hadmountedhercowwhiledrivingithome；
　　andwithasmileatthethoughtoftheconfusionhewouldcauseher，Claytonsteppedaroundthebowlderandwaited。Withtheslow，easyswingofclimbingcattle，thebeastbroughtitsriderintoview。Abagofmeallayacrossitsshoulders，andbehindthisthegirl—forshewasplainlyyoung—satsidewise，withherbarefeetdanglingagainstitsflank。Herfacewasturnedtowardthevalleybelow，andherloosenedbonnethalfdisclosedaheadofbrightyellowhair。
　　CatchingsightofClayton，thebeaststoppedandlifteditshead，notthemeek，patientfaceheexpectedtosee，butaheadthatwaswrinkledandvicious—theheadofabull。Onlythesuddenremembranceofadeadmountaincustomsavedhimfromutteramazement。Hehadheardthatwhenbeastsofburdenwerescarce，cows，andespeciallybulls，wereworkedinploughsandriddenbythemountaineers，evenbythewomen。Butthishadbecomeatradition，thehumorofwhichgreaterprosperityandcontactwithanewcivilizationhadtaughteventhemountainpeopletoappreciate。Thenecessitiesofthisgirlwereevidentlyasgreatasherfearofridiculeseemedsmall。Whenthebrutestopped，shebeganstrikinghimintheflankwithherbareheel，withoutlookingaround，andashepaidnoattentiontosuchpainlessgoading，sheturnedwithsuddenimpatienceandliftedaswitchabovehisshoulders。Thestickwasarrestedinmid—airwhenshesawClayton，andthendroppedharmlessly。Thequickfireinhereyesdiedsuddenlyaway，andforamomentthetwolookedateachotherwithmutualcuriosity，butonlyforamoment。TherewassomethinginClayton’sgazethatdispleasedher。Herfaceclouded，andshedroppedhereyes。
　　"G’long，"shesaid，inalowtone。Butthebullhadloweredhishead，andwasstandingwithfeetplantedapartandtailwavinguneasily。Thegirllookedupinalarm。
　　"Watchoutthar!"shecalledout，sharply。"Callthatdogoff—
　　quick!"
　　Claytonturned，buthisdogsprangpasthimandbegantobark。
　　Thebull，alean，active，vicious—lookingbrute，answeredwithasnort。
　　"Callhimoff，Itellye!"criedthegirl，angrily，springingtotheground。"Gitouto’theway。Don’tyouseehe’sa—comm’atye？"
　　Thedogleapednimblyintothebushes，andthemaddenedbullwascarriedonbyhisownImpetustowardClayton，who，withaquickspring，landedinsafetyinagullybelowtheroad。Whenhepickedhimselfupfromtheunevengroundwherehehadfallen，thebeasthaddisappearedaroundthebowlder。Thebaghadfallen，andhadbrokenopen，andsomeofthemealwasspilledontheground。Thegirl，flushedandangry，stoodaboveit。
　　"Lookthar，now，"shesaid。"Seewhutyou’vedone。Why’n’tyecallthatdogoff？"
　　"Icouldn’t，"saidClayton，politely。"Hewouldn’tcome。I’msorry，verysorry。"
　　"Can’tyemanageyerowndog？"sheasked，halfcontemptuously。
　　"Notalways。"
　　"Thenyeoughterleavehimtohome，andnotlethimgorounda—skeerin’folks’beastes。"Withalittlegestureofindignationshestoopedandbeganscoopingupthemealinherhand。
　　"Letmehelpyou，"saidClayton。Thegirllookedupinsurprise。
　　Yougo’way，"shesaid。
　　ButClaytonstayed，watchingherhelplessly。Hewantedtocarrythebagforher，butsheswungittohershoulder，andmovedaway。
　　Hefollowedheraroundthebowlder，wherehislateenemywasbrowsingpeacefullyonsassafras—bushes。
　　"Youstaytharnow，"saidthegirl，"andkeepthatdogback。"
　　"Won’tyouletmehelpyougetup？"heasked。
　　Withoutanswering，thegirlspranglightlytothebull’sback，Onceonlyshelookedaroundathim。Hetookoffhishat，andapuzzledexpressioncameintoherface。Then，withoutawordoranod，sherodeaway。Claytonwatchedtheoddpairtillthebusheshidthem。
　　"Europa，byJove!"heexclaimed，andhesatdowninbewilderment。
　　Shewassoveryoddacreature，sodifferentfromthetimidmountainwomenwhoshrankwithavertedfacesalmostintothebusheswhenhemetthem。Shehadlookedhimstraightinthefacewithsteadyeyes，andhadspokenasthoughherswayovermountainandroadwereundisputedandhehadbeenawretchedtrespasser。Shepaidnoattentiontohisapologies，andshescornedhisoffersofassistance。Sheseemednomoreangeredbythelossofthemealthanbyhisincapacitytomanagehisdog，whichseemedtotypifytoherhisgeneralworthlessness。Hehadbeenbruisedbyhisfall，andshedidnotevenaskifhewerehurt。
　　Indeed，sheseemednottocare，andshehadriddenawayfromhimasthoughhewereworthnomoreconsiderationthanthestoneunderhim。
　　Hewasamused，andatrifleirritated。Howcouldtherebesuchacuriousgrowthinthemountains？hequestioned，asheroseandcontinuedthedescent。Therewasanunusualgraceabouther，inspiteofhermasculineair。Herfeatureswereregular，thenosestraightanddelicate，themouthresolute，thebrowbroad，andtheeyesintenselyblue，perhapstender，whennotflashingwithanger，andaltogetherwithoutthelistlessexpressionhehadmarkedinothermountainwomen，andwhich，hehadnoticed，deadenedintopathetichopelessnesslaterinlife。Herfigurewaserect，andhermanner，despiteitsroughness，savoredofsomethinghigh—born。
　　Wherecouldshehavegotthatbearing？Shebelongedtoaracewhosedescent，hehadheard，wasunmixedEnglish；uponwhoselipslingeredwordsandformsofspeechthatShakespearehadheardandused。Whocouldtellwhatbloodraninherveins？
　　Musing，hehadcomealmostunconsciouslytoaspurofthemountainsunderwhichlaythelittlemining—camp。Itwassixo’clock，andtheminers，grimandblack，eachwithapailinhandandalittleoil—lampinhiscap，weregoingdownfromwork。A
　　showerhadpassedoverthemountainsabovehim，andthelastsunlight，comingthroughagapinthewest，strucktherisingmistandturnedittogold。Onarockwhichthrustfromthemountainitsgray，sombreface，halfembracedbyawhitearmofthemist，Claytonsawthefigureofawoman。Hewavedhishat，butthefigurestoodmotionless，andheturnedintothewoodstowardthecamp。
　　Itwasthegirl；andwhenClaytondisappearedshetooturnedandwentonherway。Shehadstoppedtherebecausesheknewhemustpassapointwhereshemightseehimagain。Shewaslittlelessindifferentthansheseemed；hermotivewaslittlemorethancuriosity。Shehadneverseenthatmannerofmanbefore。
　　Evidentlyhewasa"furriner"fromthe"settlemints。"Nomaninthemountainshadasmooth，roundfacelikehis，orworesuchaqueerhat，suchasoft，whiteshirt，andnogalluses，"orcarriedsuchashiny，weak—lookingstick，orownedadogthathecouldn’tmakemindhim。Shewasnotwhollycontemptuous，however。Shehadfeltvaguelythemeaningofhispolitenessanddeference。Shewaspuzzledandpleased，shescarcelyknewwhy。
　　"Hewasmightyaccomodatin’，"shethought。Butwhut，"sheaskedherselfassherodeslowlyhomeward—"whutdidhetakeoffhishatferII
　　LIGHTStwinkledfromeverycabinasClaytonpassedthroughthecamp。Outsidethekitchendoors，miners，baretothewaist，werebathingtheirblackenedfacesandbodies，withchildren，tatteredandunclean，buthealthful，playingaboutthem；within，womeninloosegowns，withsleevesunrolledandwithdisorderedhair，movedlikephantomsthroughcloudsofsavorysmoke。Thecommissarywasbrilliantlylighted。Atawindowclosebyimprovidentminersweredrawingthewagesoftheday，whiletheirwiveswaitedinthestorewithbasketsunfilled。Infrontofthecommissaryacrowdofnegroesweretalking，laughing，singing，andplayingprankslikechildren。Heretwo，withgrinningfaces，weresquaredoff，nottospar，buttoknockateachother’statteredhat；theretwomore，withlegsandarmsindistinguishable，werewrestling；closebywasthesoundofamouth—harp，acircleofinterestedspectators，and，within，twodancerspittedagainsteachother，andshufflingwithazestthatlaborseemednevertoaffect。
　　ImmediatelyaftersupperClaytonwenttohisroom，lightedhislamp，andsatdowntoamaphewastracing。Hisroomwasnexttheground，andapathranneartheopenwindow。Asheworked，everypasser—bywouldlookcuriouslywithin。Onthewallabovehisheadapairoffencing—foilswerecrossedundermasks。Belowthesehungtwopistols，suchascourteousClaudeDuvalusedforside—arms。Oppositeweretwooldrifles，andbeneaththemtwostonebeer—mugs，andaGermanstudent’spipeabsurdlylongandrichlyornamented。Amantelclosebywasfilledwithcuriosities，andnearithungabanjounstrung，atennis—racket，andablazerofstartlingcolors。PlainlytheywererelicsofGermanstudentlife，andtheoddcontrasttheymadewiththeroughwallandceilingsuggestedasharpchangeinthefortunesoftheyoungworkerbeneath。ScarcelysixmonthssincehehadbeensuddenlysummonedhomefromGermany。Thereasonwasvague，buthavingreadofrecentAmericanfailures，notablyinWallStreet，heknewwhathadhappened。ReachingNewYork，hewasstartledbythefearthathismotherwasdead，sogloomywasthehouse，sosubduedhissister’sgreeting，andsowornandsadhisfather’sface。
　　Thetrouble，however，waswhathehadguessed，andhehadaccepteditwithquietresignation。Thefinancialwreckseemedcomplete；butoneresource，however，wasleft。JustafterthewarClayton’sfatherhadpurchasedminerallandsintheSouth，anditwaswiththeideaofdevelopingthesethathehadencouragedthemarkedscientifictastesofhisson，andhadsenthimtoaGermanuniversity。Inviewofhisowndisaster，andthefactthatafinancialtidewasswellingsouthward，hisforethoughtseemedaninspiration。TothisresourceClaytonturnedeagerly；andafterafewweeksathome，whichweremadeintolerablebystraitenedcircumstances，andthefanciedcoldnessoffriendandacquaintance，hewashardatworkintheheartoftheKentuckymountains。
　　Thetransitionfromthecarelesslifeofastudentwasswiftandbitter；itwaslikebeginninganewlifewithanewidentity，thoughClaytonsufferedlessthanheanticipated。Hehadbecomeinterestedfromthefirst。Therewasnothingintheprettyglen，whenhecame，butamountaineer’scabinandafewgnarledoldapple—trees，therootsofwhichcheckedthemusicalflowofalittlestream。Thentheairwasfilledwiththetenseringofhammerandsaw，themellowechoesofaxes，andtheshoutsofox—driversfromtheforests，indignantgroansfromthemountains，andalittletownsprangupbeforehiseyes，andcarsofshiningcoalwoundslowlyaboutthemountainside。
　　Activitylikethisstirredhisblood。Busyfromdawntodark，hehadnotimetogrowmiserable。Hisworkwashard，tobesure，butitmaderestandsleepaluxury，andithadthenewzestofindependence；heevenbegantotakeinitnolittlepridewhenhefoundhimselfanessentialpartofthequickgrowthgoingon。
　　Whenleisurecame，hecouldtaketowoodsfilledwithunknownbirds，newformsofinsectlife，andstrangeplantsandflowers。
　　Witheveryday，too，hewasmoredeeplystirredbythechangingbeautyofthemountainshiddenatdawnwithwhitemists，faintlyveiledthroughthedaywithanatmospherethatmadehimthinkofItaly，andenrichedbysunsetsofstartlingbeauty。Butstrongestofallwastheinteresthefoundintheoddhumanmixtureabouthim—thesimple，good—natureddarkieswhoslouchedpasthim，magnificentinphysiqueandpicturesquewithrags；occasionalforeignersjustfromCastleGarden，withthehopeoftheNewWorldstillintheirfaces；andnowandthenagauntmountaineerstalkingawkwardlyintherearofthemarchtowardcivilization。
　　Graduallyithaddawneduponhimthatthislast，silentfigure，tracedthroughVirginia，wascloselylinkedbybloodandspeechwiththecommonpeopleofEngland，and，mouldedperhapsbytheinfluencesoffeudalism，wasstillstrikinglyunchanged；thatnowitwasthemostdistinctivelynationalremnantonAmericansoil，andsymbolizedthedevelopmentofthecontinent，andthatwithitmustgothelastsuggestionsofthepioneers，withtheirhardyphysiques，theirspeech，theirmannersandcustoms，theirsimplearchitectureandsimplemodeoflife。Itwassoonplaintohim，too，thatachangewasbeingwroughtatlast—thechangeofdestruction。Theoldermountaineers，whosebewilderedeyeswatchedthenoisysignsofanunintelligiblecivilization，werepassingaway。Oftherest，some，sullenandrestless，weresellingtheirhomesteadsandfollowingthespiritoftheirforefathersintoanewwilderness；
　　others，leavingtheirsmallfarmsinadjacentvalleystogotoruin，weregapingidlyaboutthepublicworks，caughtuponlytooeasilybytheviciouscurrentoftheincomingtide。Inacenturythemountaineersmustbesweptaway，andtheirignoranceofthetragicforcesatworkamongthemgavethemanunconsciouspathosthattouchedClaytondeeply。
　　Ashegrewtoknowthem，theirhistoricalimportanceyieldedtoagenuineinterestinthepeoplethemselves。Theyweredenselyignorant，tobesure；buttheywerenatural，simple，andhospitable。
　　Theirsenseofpersonalworthwashigh，andtheirdemocracy—oraristocracy，sincetherewasnodistinctionofcaste—absolute。Forgenerations，sonhadlivedlikefatherinanisolationhardlycredible。
　　Noinfluencesavesuchasshookthenationeverreachedthem。
　　TheMexicanwar，slavery，andnationalpoliticsofthefirsthalf—centurywerestillpresentissues，andeacholdmanwouldgivehisrigid，individualopinionsometimeswithsurprisinghumorandforce。
　　Hewentmuchamongthem，andtheruggedoldcoupleswhomhefoundinthecabinporches—somuchalikeatfirst—quicklybecamedistinctwithaquaintindividuality。Amongyoungorold，however，hehadfoundnothinglikethehalf—wildyoungcreaturehehadmetonthemountainthatday。
　　Inheratypehadcrossedhispath—haddrivenhimfromit，intruth—thatseemeduniqueandinexplicable。Hehadbeenlittlemorethanamusedatfirst，butakeeninteresthadbeengrowinginhimwitheverythoughtofher。
　　Therewasanindefinablecharmaboutthegirl。Shegaveanewandsuddenzesttohisinterestinmountainlife；andwhileheworked，theincidentsoftheencounteronthemountaincameminutelybacktohimtillhesawheragainassherodeaway，hersupplefigureswayingwitheverymovementofthebeast，anddappledwithquiveringcirclesofsunlightfromthebushes，herfacecalm，butstillflushedwithcolor，andheryellowhairshakingabouthershoulders—notlustrelessandflaxen，ashairwasinthemountains，heremembered，butcatchingthesunlightlikegold。
　　Almostunconsciouslyhelaidasidehispencilandleanedfromhiswindowtolifthiseyestothedarkmountainhehadclimbedthatday。Therudemelodyofanold—fashionedhymnwascominguptheglen，andherecognizedthethin，quaveringvoiceofanoldmountaineer，UncleTommyBrooks，ashewasfamiliarlyknown，whosecabinstoodinthemidstofthecamp，apatheticcontrasttothesmartnewhousesthathadsprungaroundit。Theoldmanhadlivedintheglenfornearlythree—quartersofacentury，andhe，ifanyone，mustknowthegirl。Withthethought，Claytonsprangthroughthewindow，andafewminuteslaterwasatthecabin。Theoldmansatwhittlingintheporch，joininginthesongwithwhichhiswifewascrooningachildtosleepwithin。ClaytoneasilyidentifiedEuropa，ashehadchristenedher；thesimplementionofhermeansoftransportwassufficient。
　　Ridin’abull，wasshe？"repeatedtheoldman，laughing。"Well，thatwasEasterHicks，oldBillHicks’gal。She’sasorto’
　　connectiono’mine。MeandBillmarriedcousins。
　　She’sacur’uscritteraseverIseed。Shedon’seemtotakeatterherdadnurhermammynother，thoughBillallushadaquarstreakin’im，andwasthewustmanIeverseedwhenhewasdisguisedbylicker。Whardoesshelive？Oh，upthar，rightontopo’WolfMountain，withhermammy。"
　　Alone？
　　"Yes；ferherdadain’tthar。No；’n’heain’tdead。I’lltellye"—theoldmanloweredhistone—"tharusedtobeabigloto’moonshinin’
　　doneintheseparts，’n’araidercomehyehtosee’boutit。Well，onemornin’hewasfoundlayin’intheroadwithabulletthroughhim。
　　Billwass’picioned。Now，Iain’ta—sayin’asBilldoneit，butwhenawholelotmorerodeuptharonhossesonenight，theydidn’tfindBill。Theyhain’tfoundhimyit，ferhe’soutinthemountainssomewhara—hidin’。"
　　"Howdotheygetalongwithouthim？"askedClayton。
　　"Why，thegaldoesthework。Sheploughswiththatbull，anddoestheplantin’herself。Shekinchopwoodlikeaman。An’asfershootin’，well，whenhuntin’sgood’n’thar’sshootin’—matchesround—about，shedon’thavetobuymuchmeat。"
　　"It’sawondersomeyoungfellowhasn’tmarriedher。Isuppose，though，she’stooyoung。"
　　Theoldmanlaughed。"Thar’sbeenmanyalivelyyoungfellowthat’striedit，butshe’shardtoketchasawildcat。Shewon’thavenothin’todowithotherfolks，’n’shenuvercomesdownhyehintothevalley，’cepttogithercorngroun’ertoshootaturkey。SherdRainesgoesuptoseeher，andfolkssayheairtryin’togitherintothechurch。Butthegalwon’tgonighameetin’—house。Sheairacur’uscritter，"heconcludedemphatically，"shyasadeertillsheairstirredup，andthensheairacaution；mightygentlesometimes，andag’instubbornasamule。"
　　Ashrill，infantilescreamcamefromwithin，andtheoldmanpausedamomenttolisten。
　　"Yedidn’tknowIhadagreat—grandchild，didye？That’sita—hollerin’。TalkaboutEasterbein’tooyoungtomerry!Whyhit’smotherairtwoyearyounger’nEaster。Jescomeinhyehaminit。"
　　Theoldmountaineerroseandledthewayintothecabin。Claytonwasembarrassedatfirst。Ononebedlayarathercomelyyoungwomanwithachildbyherside；onachestclosebysatanotherwithherlover，courtinginthemostopenandprimitivemanner。Inthecorneranoldgrandamdozedwithherpipe，herwitheredfacejusttouchedbytherimofthefirelight。Neararectangularholeinthewallwhichservedthepurposeofawindow，stoodagirlwhoseface，silhouettedagainstthedarkness，hadinitacuriousmixtureofchildishnessandmaturity。
　　"Whar’sthebaby？"askedUncleTommy。
　　Somebodyoutsidewasadmiringit，andtheyounggirlleanedthroughthewindowandliftedtheinfantwithin。
　　Thar’sababyferye!"exclaimedtheoldmountaineer，proudly，liftingitintheairandturningitsfacetothelight。Butthechildwaspeevishandfretful，andhehandeditbackgently。Claytonwaswonderingwhichwasthemother，when，tohisamazement，almosttohisconfusion，thegirlliftedthechildcalmlytoherownbreast。Thechildwasthemotherofthechild。Shewasbarelyfifteen，withthefaceofagirloftwelve，andhermotherlymannerhadstruckhimasanoddcontrast。Hefeltathrillofpityfortheyoungmotherashecalledtomindtheagedyoungwiveshehadseenwhowerehaggardandcare—wornatthirty，andwhostillmanagedtolivetoanoldage。HewasindefinablygladthatEasterhadescapedsuchafate。Whenheleftthecabin，theoldmancalledafterhimfromthedoor：
　　"Thar’sgoin’tobeashootin’—matchamongtheboysto—morrer，’n’I
　　jedgethatEaster’11beonhand。Sheal’aysis。"
　　"Isthatso？"saidClayton。"Well，I’lllookoutforit。"
　　Theoldmountaineerloweredhisvoice。
　　"Yehain’tthinkin’abouttakin’awife，airye？"
　　"No，no!"
　　"Well，efyeair，"saidtheoldman，slowly，"I’ma—thinkin’yu’llhavetobuckupag’inSherdRaines，ferefIhain’tlikeagoosea—pickin’o’grassbymoonshine，Sherdairatterthegalferhisself，notfertheLord。Yes，"hecontinued，afterashort，drylaugh；"’n’
　　mebbeye’llhavtokeepaneyeopenferoldBill。Theysaythatheairmightylowdown，’n’kindo’sorry’n’skeery，forIreckonSherdRaineshevtoldhimhehavgottopaythepenaltyfertakin’ahumanlife；butIwouldn’tsotmuchonhisbein’sorryefhewasmadatmeandhadlickerinhim。Hehatesfurriners，andhehasacrazyideethattheyisallraiders’n’lookin’ferhim。"
　　"Idon’tthinkI’llbotherhim，"saidClayton，turningawaywithalaugh。"Good—nightt"Withalittlecackleofincredulity，theoldmanclosedthedoor。Thecamphadsunknowtoperfectquiet；butforthefaintnotesofabanjofaruptheglen，notasoundtrembledonthenightair。
　　TherimofthemoonwasjustvisibleabovethemountainonwhichEaster—whataprettynamethatwas!—hadflasheduponhisvisionwithsuchtheatriceffect。Asitsbrilliantlightcameslowlydownthedarkmountain—side，themistsseemedtoloosentheirwhitearms，andtocreepawaylikeghostsmistakingthelightfordawn。
　　Withthebaseofthemountainindenseshadow，itscrest，upliftedthroughthevapors，seemedpoisedintheairatastartlingheight。
　　Yetitwasnearthecrestthathehadmether。Claytonpausedamoment，whenhereachedhisdoor，tolookagain。Whereinthatcloud—landcouldshelive？
　　III
　　WHENthegreatbellstruckthehourofthenextnoon，mountaineerswithlongriflesacrosstheirshouldersweremovingthroughthecamp。Theglenopenedintoavalley，which，blockedontheeastbyPineMountain，wasthusshutinoneverysidebywoodedheights。Herethemarksmengathered。Allweremountaineers，lank，bearded，men，coatlessforthemostpart，anddressedinbrownhome—madejeans，slouched，formlesshats，andhigh，coarseboots。Sunandwindhadtannedtheirfacestosympathy，incolor，withtheirclothes，whichhadthedunlookofthesoil。Theyseemedpeculiarlyaraceofthesoil，tohavesprungastheywerefromtheearth，whichhadleftindeliblestainsuponthem。Allcarriedlongrifles，old—fashionedandhome—made，someevenwithflint—locks。ItwasSaturday，andmanyoftheirwiveshadcomewiththemtothecamp。Thesestoodnear，huddledintoalistlessgroup，withtheirfaceshalfhiddenincheckbonnetsofvariouscolors。Abarbaricloveofcolorwasapparentinbonnet，shawl，andgown，andsurprisinglyincontrastwithsuchcrudenessoftastewasafacewhenfullyseen，somodestwasit。Thefeatureswerealwaysdelicatelywrought，andsoftenedsometimesbyalookofpatientsufferingalmostintorefinement。
　　Ontheothersideofthecontestantswerethepeopleofthecamp，afewminerswithpipesloungingontheground，andwomenandgirls，whoreturnedthefurtiveglancesofthemountainwomenwithstaresofcuriosityandlowlaughter。
　　Claytonhadbeendelayedbyhiswork，andthematchwasalreadygoingonwhenhereachedthegrounds。
　　"You’vemissedmightyfineshootin’，"saidUncleTommyBrooks，whowassquattedonthegroundnearthegroupofmarksmen。
　　Sherd’sbeena—beatin’ever’body。I’mafeardEasterhain’ta—comm’。
　　Thematchis’mostovernow。Efshe’dbeenhere，Idon’tthinkSherdwould’a’gotthech’icepartso’thatbeefsoeasy。"
　　"Whichishe？"askedClayton。
　　Thattallfellertharloadin’hisgun。"
　　"Whatdidyousayhisnamewas？
　　"SherdRaines，thefellerthat’sgoin’tobeourcircuit—rider。"
　　Herememberedthepeculiarname。SothiswasEaster’slover。
　　Claytonlookedattheyoungmountaineer，curiouslyatfirst，andthenwithgrowinginterest。Hisquietairofauthorityamonghisfellowswaslikeabirthright；itseemedassumedandacceptedunconsciously。Hisfacewassmooth，andhewasfullerinfigurethantherest，butstillsinewyandlank，thoughnotawkward；hismovementsweretooquickanddecisiveforthat。WithacasualglanceClaytonhadwonderedwhatsecretinfluencecouldhaveturnedtospiritualthingsamansomerelyanimal—likeinfaceandphysique；butwhenthemountaineerthrustbackhishat，elementalstrengthandseriousnesswereapparentinthesquarebrow，thesteadyeye，thepoiseofthehead，andinlinesaroundthestrongmouthandchininwhichthestruggleforself—masteryhadbeentraced。
　　Asthemountaineerthrusthisramrodbackintoitscasing，heglancedatthewoodsbehindClayton，andsaidsomethingtohiscompanions。They，too，raisedtheireyes，andatthesamemomenttheoldmountaineerpluckedClaytonbythesleeve。
　　"TharcomesEasternow。"
　　Thegirlhadjustemergedfromtheedgeoftheforest，andwitharifleononeshoulderandabullet—pouchandpowder—hornswungfromtheother，wasslowlycomingdownthepath。
　　"Why，howairye，Easter？"criedtheoldman，heartily。"Goin’toshoot，airye？I’lowedyewouldn’tmissthis。Yeairmightylate，though。"
　　Oh，Ionlywantedaturkey，"saidthegirl。"Well，I’ma—comm’uptoeatdinnerwithyeto—morrer，"heanswered，withalaugh，"ferIknowye’llgitone。Y’u’reonhandfermosto’thematchesnow。
　　Wildturkeysmustbea—gittin’skeerce。"
　　Thegirlsmiled，showingarowofbrilliantteethbetweenherthin，redlips，and，withoutanswering，movedtowardthegroupofmountainwomen。Claytonhadraisedhishandtohishatwhentheoldmanaddressedher，buthedroppeditquicklytohissideinnolittleembarrassmentwhenthegirlcarelesslyglancedoverhimwithnosignofrecognition。Herriflewasanoldflint—lockoflightbuild，butnearlysixfeetinlength，withashadeofrustytintwofeetlongfastenedtothebarreltopreventthesunlightfromaffectingthemarksman’saim。Sheworeaman’shat，which，withunintentionalcoquetry，wasperchedononesideofherhead。Herhairwasshort，andfellasitpleasedaboutherneck。Shewasbare—footed，andapparentlycladinasinglegarment，abluehomespungown，gatheredlooselyatheruncorsetedwaist，andshowingtheoutlineofthebustandeverymovementofthetall，suppleformbeneath。Herappearancehadquickenedtheinterestofthespectators，andapparentlywasadisturbinginfluenceamongthecontestants，whoweregatheredtogether，evidentlyindispute。
　　FromtheirglancesClaytonsawthatEasterwasthesubjectofit。
　　"Iguesstheydon’twanthertoshoot—themthathain’twonnothin’，"
　　saidUncleTommy。
　　Shehevcomeinlate，"Claytonheardonesay，"’n’sheoughtn’toshoot。Tharhain’tnochanceshootin’ag’inhernoways，’n’I’minfavoro’barrin’herout。"
　　Ohno；lethershoot"—thevoicewasRaines’s。"Tharhain’tnothin’
　　butafewturkeysleft，’n’ye’dbetterbaroutthegun’stido’thegal，anyway，ferthatgunkinoutshootany—thinginthemountains。"
　　Thegirlhadbeensilentlywatchingthegroupasifpuzzled；andwhenRainesspokeherfacetightenedwithsuddendecision，andshestrodeswiftlytowardthemintimetooverheartheyoungmountaineer’slastwords。
　　Sohit’sthegun，ishit，SherdRaines？
　　Thecrowdturned，andRainesshrankalittleasthegirlfacedhimwithflashingeyes。"Sohit’sthegun，ishit？Hitisagoodgun，butyeoughttobeashamedtotakeallthecredit’wayfromme。Butefyouairsosartainhit’sthegun，"shecontinued，"I’llshootyourn，’n’
　　y’ukinhevmineefIdon’tbeatyewithyerowngun。"
　　"Goodferyou，Easter!"shoutedtheoldmountaineer。
　　Raineshadrecoveredhimself，andwaslookingatthegirlseriously。Severalofhiscompanionsurgedhimaloudtoacceptthechallenge，buthepaidnoheedtothem。Heseemedtobedebatingthequestionwithhimself，andamomentlaterhesaid，quietly：
　　"’N’youkinhevmineefIdon’tbeatyou。"
　　Thiswasallhesaid，buthekepthiseyesfixedonthegirl’sface；
　　andwhen，withadefiantglance，sheturnedtowardthemountainwomen，hefollowedandstoppedher。
　　"Easter，"Claytonheardhimsay，inalow，slowvoice，"Iwastryin’
　　togityeachancetoshoot，feryehevbeenwinnin’somuchthatit’shardtogitupamatchwhenyeairinit。"Thehardlookonthegirl’sfaceremainedunchanged，andthemountaineercontinued，firmly：
　　"’N’Itoldthetruth；ferefyepinmedown，Idothinkhitisthegun。"
　　"Jesyouwait’n’see，"answeredthegirl，shortly，andRaines，afteraquestioninglook，rejoinedthegroup。
　　"Iwon’ttakethegunefIwinit，"hesaidtothem；"butsheairgittin’toosetupan’proud，’n’I’mgoin’todomybesttotakeherdownabit。"
　　Therewasnothingboastfulormaliciousinhismannerorspeech，andnobodydoubtedthathewouldwin，fortherewerefewmarksmeninthemountainshisequals，andhewouldhavetheadvantageofusinghisowngun。
　　"Lookhyeh，"saidalong，thinmountaineer，cominguptothegroup，"tharain’tbutoneturkeyleft，’n’I’dliketoknowwhatweairgoin’toshootatefSherd’n’Eastergitsacrackathim。"
　　Intheinterestofthematchnoonehadthoughtofthat，andamomentofdebatefollowed，whichClaytonendedbysteppingforward。
　　"I’llfurnishaturkeyfortherestofyou，"hesaid。
　　Thegirlturnedwhenhespokeandgavehimaquickglance，butavertedhereyesinstantly。
　　Clayton’sofferwasaccepted，andthepreliminarytrialtodecidewhoshouldshootfirstattheturkeywasbegun。Everydetailwaswatchedwithincreasinginterest。Apieceofwhitepapermarkedwithtwoconcentriccircleswasplacedsixtyyardsaway，andRaineswonwithabulletintheinnercircle。Thegirlhadmissedboth，andthemountaineerofferedhertwomoreshotstoaccustomherselftothegun。Sheaccepted，andsmiledalittletriumphantlyasshetouchedtheoutercirclewithonebulletandplacedtheotheralmostinthecentre。Itwasplainthatthetwowereevenlymatched，andseveralshoutsofapprovalcamefromthecrowd。
　　Theturkeywashobbledtoastakeatthesamedistance，andbothweretofireatitshead，withtheprivilegeofshootingatfiftyyardsifnorestweretaken。
　　Rainesshotfirstwithoutrest，and，ashemissed，thegirlfollowedhisexample。Theturkeydozedoninthesunlight，undisturbedbyeither。Themountaineerwasvexed。Withhispowerfulfacesetdeterminedly，helaydownflatontheground，and，restinghisrifleoverasmalllog，tookaninordinatelylongandcarefulaim。Theriflecracked，theturkeybobbeditsheadunhurt，andthemarksmansprangtohisfeetwithanexclamationofsurpriseandchagrin。Asheloadedthegunandgravelyhandedittothegirl，theexcitementgrewintense。Thecrowdpressedclose。Thestolidfacesofthemountaineerwomen，thrustfromtheirbonnets，becamealmosteagerwithinterest。Raines，quietandcomposedashewas，lookedanxious。Alleyesfollowedeverymovementofthegirlasshecoollystretchedherlong，activefigureontheground，drewherdresscloseaboutit，and，throwingheryellowhairoverherfacetoshadehereyesfromtheslantingsunlight，placedhercheekagainstthestockofthegun。Alongsuspensefollowed。Ahushalmostofsolemnityfelluponthecrowd。
　　"Whydon’tthegalshoot？"askedavoice，impatiently。
　　Claytonsawwhatthematterwas，and，steppingtowardher，saidquietly，"Youforgottosetthetrigger。"
　　Thegirl’sfacecolored。Againhereyeglancedalongthebarrel，apuffofsmokeflewfromthegun，andashoutcamefromeverypairoflipsastheturkeyleapedintotheairandfell，beatingthegroundwithitswings。Inaninstantayoungmountaineerhadrushedforwardandseizedit，and，afteraglance，droppeditwithayelloftriumph。
　　"Shotplum’throughtheeyes!"heshouted。"Shotplum’throughtheeyes!
　　Thegirlarose，andhandedthegunbacktoRaines。
　　Keephit，"hesaid，steadily。"Hit’syourn。"
　　"Idon’twantthegun，"shesaid，"butIdidwantthatturkey—’n’"—alittletauntingly—"Ididwanttobeatyou，SherdRaines。"
　　Themountaineer’sfaceflushedanddarkened，buthesaidnothing。
　　Hetooknopartintheshootingthatfollowed，andwhen，afterthematchwasover，thegirl，withherrifleononeshoulderandtheturkeyovertheother，turnedupthemountainpath，Claytonsawhimfollowher。
　　IV
　　AFORTNIGHTlaterClayton，rifleinhand，tookthesamepath。ItwaslateinMay。The’leafagewasluxuriant，andthemountains，woodedtothetops，seemedoverspreadwithgreat，shaggyrugsofgreen。Thewoodswereresonantwithsong—birds，andthedewdrippedandsparkledwhereverashaftofsunlightpiercedthethickleaves。
　　LatevioletshidshylyundercanopiesofMay—apple；bunchesofblueandofwhiteanemonenoddedfromunderfallentrees，andwaterranlikehiddenmusiceverywhere。Slowlythevalleyandthesoundofitslife—thelowingofcattle，theclatteratthemines，thesongsofthenegroesatwork—sankbeneathhim。Thechorusofbirdsdwindleduntilonlythecool，flute—likenotesofawood—
　　thrushrosefaintlyfrombelow。Uphewent，windingaroundgreatoaks，fallentrunks，loosebowlders，andthreateningcliffsuntillightglimmeredwhitelybetweenthebolesofthetrees。Fromagapwherehepausedtorest，afire—scald"wasvisibleclosetothe’
　　crestoftheadjoiningmountain。Itwasfilledwiththecharred，ghost—liketrunksoftreesthathadbeenburnedstanding。Easter’shomemustbenearthat，Claytonthought，andheturnedtowarditbyapaththatranalongthetopofthemountain。Afterafewhundredyardsthepathswervedsharplythroughadensethicket，andClaytonstoppedinwonder。
　　Somenaturalagenthadhollowedthemountain，leavingalevelplateauofseveralacres。Theearthhadfallenawayfromagreatsombrecliffofsolidrock，andclinginglikeaswallow’snestinacleftofthiswastheusualrudecabinofamountaineer。Thefaceoftherockwasdarkwithvines，andthecabinwasprotectedasbyafortress。Butonewayofapproachwaspossible，andthatstraighttotheporch。Fromthecliffthevineshadcrepttoroofandchimney，andwerewavingtheirtendrilsaboutathinbluespiralofsmoke。
　　Thecabinwasgrayandtotteringwithage。Abovetheporchonthebranchesofanapple—treehungleavesthatmatchedinrichnessoftintthethickmossontheroughshingles。Underitanoldwomansatspinning，andahoundlayasleepatherfeet。Easterwasnowheretobeseen，buthervoicecamefrombelowhiminaloudtoneofcommand；andpresentlysheappearedfrombehindaknoll，abovewhichthethatchedroofofastablewasvisible，andslowlyascendedthepathtothehouse。Shehadevidentlyjustfinishedwork，foraploughstoodinthelastfurrowofthefield，andthefragranceoffreshlyturnedearthwasintheair。Ontheporchshesankwearilyintoalowchair，and，foldingherhands，lookedawaytothemountains。
　　Claytonclimbedthecrumblingfence。Adeadtwigsnapped，and，startledbythesound，thegirlbegantorise；but，givinghimonequick，sharplook，droppedhereyestoherhands，andremainedmotionless。
　　"Goodmorning，"saidClayton，liftinghishat。Thegirldidnotraiseherface。Thewheelstopped，andthespinnerturnedherhead。
　　Howairye？"shesaid，withreadyhospitality。"Comeinan’hevacheer。"
　　"No，thankyou，"heanswered，alittleembarrassedbyEaster’soddbehavior。"MayIgetsomewater？
　　"Sartinly，"saidtheoldwoman，lookinghimovercuriously。"
　　Easter，gogitsomefresh。"
　　Thegirlstartedtorise，butClayton，pickingupthebucket，said，quickly：
　　"Ohno；Iwon’ttroubleyou。Iseethespring，"headded，noticingatinystreamthattrickledfromafissureatthebaseofthecliff。
　　Whoairthatfeller，Easter？"themotherasked，inalowvoice，whenClaytonwasoutofhearing。
　　"Oneo’themfurrinerswhohevcomeintoInjunCreek，"wastheindifferentreply。
　　That’ssplendidwater，"saidClayton，returning。"MayIgiveyousome？"Theoldwomanshookherhead。Easter’seyeswerestillonthemountains，andapparentlyshehadnotheardhim。
　　"Hitairgoodwater，"saidthemother。
　　"Thatspringneverdoesgodry。Youbettercomeinandrestaspell。Isupposeyeairfromthemines？"sheadded，assheturnedtoresumespinning。
　　Yes，"answeredClayton。"Thereisgoodhuntingaroundhere，isn’tthere？"hewenton，feelingthatsomeexplanationwasdueforhissuddenarrivalawayupinthatlonespot。
　　Therewasnoanswer。Easterdidnotlooktowardhim，andthespinningstopped。
　　"Whutd’yousay？"askedtheoldwoman。
　　Claytonrepeatedhisquestion。
　　"Tharusedtobeprimehuntin’inthesepartswhenmydadclearedoffthisspotmore’nfiftyyearago，butthevarmintshevmostlybeenkilledout。ButEasterkintellyoubetter’nIkin，forshedoesallourhuntin’，’n’shekinoutshoot’mos’anymaninthemountains。"
　　Yes；Isawhershootatthematchtheotherdaydownatthemines。"
　　Didye？"—asmileofpleasurebrokeovertheoldwoman’sface—"
　　wharshebeatSherdRaines？Sherdwantedtomortifyher，butshemortifiedhim，Ireckon。"
　　Thegirldidnotjoininhermother’slaugh，thoughthecornersofhermouthtwitchedfaintly。
　　Ilikeshooting，myself，"saidClayton。"Iwouldgointoamatch，butI’mafraidIwouldn’thavemuchchance。"
　　"Ireckonnot，withthatshortthing？"saidtheoldwoman，pointingathisrepeating—rifle。"Wouldyeshootwiththat？"
　　Oh，yes，"answeredClayton，smiling；"itshootsverywell。"
　　"Howfer？"
　　"Oh，alongway。"
　　Ahugeshadowsweptoverthehouse，thrownbyabuzzardsailingwithmagnificenteasehighabovethem。Thinkingthathemightdisturbitsflight，Claytonroseandcockedhisrifle。
　　"Ye’renotgoingtoshootatthat？"saidtheoldwoman，grinning。
　　Thegirlhadlookedtowardhimatlast，withasmileoffaintdension。
　　Claytontookaimquicklyandfired。Thehugebirdsankasthoughhit，curveddownward，andwithoneflapofhisgreatwingssailedon。
　　"Well，efIdidn’tthinkyehadhithim!"saidtheoldwoman，inamazement。"Youkinshoot，ferafac’。"
　　Easter’sattentionwasgainedatlast。Forthefirsttimeshelookedstraightathim，andherlittlesmileofderisionhadgivenwaytoalookofmingledcuriosityandrespect。
　　"Iexpectedonlytoscarehim，"saidClayton。
　　Thegunwillcarrytwicethatfar。"
　　Hit’sjestaswellyedidn’thithim，"saidtheoldwoman。’Hitairfivedollarsfinetokillabuzzardaroundhyeh。I’dneverthoughtthatlittlethingcouldshoot。"
　　"Itshootsseveraltimes，"saidClayton。"Hitdoeswhut？"
　　Likeapistol，"heexplained，and，rising，hedirectedseveralshotsinquicksuccessionatadeadtreeintheploughedfield。Ateachshotapuffofdustcamealmostfromthesamespot。
　　Whenheturned，Easterhadrisentoherfeetinastonishment，andthemotherwaslaughinglongandloudly。
　　"Don’tyewishyehadagunlikethat，Easter？"shecried。
　　Claytonturnedquicklytothegirl，andbeganexplainingthemechanismoftheguntoher，withoutappearingtonoticeherembarrassment，forsheshrankperceptiblywhenhespoketoher。
　　"Won’tyouletmeseeyourgun？"heasked。
　　Shebroughtouttheoldflint—lock，andhandedittohimalmosttimidly。
　　Thisisveryinteresting，"hesaid。"Ineversawonelikeitbefore。"
　　"Tharhain’tbutonemorejestlikethatinthemountains，"saidtheoldwoman，"’n’Easter’sgotthat。Mydadmade’emboth。"
　　"Howwouldyouliketotradeoneformine，ifyouhavetwo？"saidClaytontothegirl。"I’llgiveyouallmycartridgestoboot。"
　　Thegirllookedathermotherwithhesitation。Claytonsawthatbothwonderedwhathecouldwantwiththegun，andheadded：
　　"I’dliketohaveittotakehomewithme。Itwouldbeagreatcuriosity。"
　　"Well，"saidthemother，"youkinhevoneefyewanthit，andthinkthetrade’sfa’r。"
　　Claytoninsisted，andthetradewasmade。Theoldwomanresumedspinning。Thegirltookherseatinthelowchair，holdinghernewtreasureinherlap，withhereyesfixedonit，andoccasionallyrunningonebrownhanddownitsshiningbarrel。Claytonwatchedher。Shehadgivennosignwhateverthatshehadeverseenhimbefore，andyetacuriouschangehadcomeoverher。Herimperiousmannerhadyieldedtoasingularreserveandtimidity。Thepeculiarbeautyofthegirlstruckhimnowwithunusualforce。Herprofilewasremarkablyregularanddelicate；hermouthsmall，resolute，andsensitive；heavy，darklashesshadedherdowncasteyes；andherbrowsuggestedamentalitythathefeltastrongdesiretotest。Herfeetweresmall，andsowereherquick，nervoushands，whichwerestillfinelyshaped，inspiteofthehardusagethathadleftthembrownandcallous。Hewonderedifshewasreallyaslovelyassheseemed；ifhisstandardmightnothavebeenaffectedbyhislongstayinthemountains；ifherpicturesqueenvironmentmightnothaveinfluencedhisjudgment。Hetriedtoimagineherdaintilyslippered，cladinwhite，withherloosehairgatheredinaPsycheknot；orineveningdress，witharmsandthroatbare；butthepicturesweredifficulttomake。Helikedherbestasshewas，inperfectphysicalsympathywiththenaturalphasesabouther；asmuchapartofthemastree，plant，orflower，embodyingthefreedom，grace，andbeautyofnatureaswellandasunconsciouslyasthey。Hequestionedwhethershehardlyfeltherselftobeapartfromthem；and，ofcourse，sheaslittleknewherkinshiptothem。