"But you never do," put in Hamilton quickly.

"I reckon that's jes' a feelin'," rejoined the mountaineer, "jes' one o'
these habits that yo' hate to give up. I'd sort o' be lost without it
now, after all these years. Thar's no one to worry about, anyway,
savin' Jake Howkle, an' I don' believe he's hankerin' for
blood-lettin'."

"Jake? Oh, never," Hamilton replied with assurance; "why, he's only
about my age."

"That's only partly why," the old man said, "not only because he's your
age, but because he's b'n at school. Shootin' an' schoolin' don' seem to
hit it off. I reckon thar would have b'n a sight less trouble in the
mount'ns if thar had b'n mo' schools."

"There are plenty of schools in the mountains now, aren't there?" asked
Hamilton. "It must be very different here, Uncle Eli, from what it was
when you were a boy."

"Thar has been quite a change, an' the change is comin' faster now. But
thar's still a lot o' folk who a'nt altered a bit sence the war. You
city people call us slow-movin' up hyeh, an' as long as thar's any o'
the ol' spirit abroad thar's a chance o' trouble. If yo' really are
goin' in for this census-takin', I'd keep clar o' the mount'ns."

"You really would?" queried the boy thoughtfully.

"An' what's more," continued his Uncle, "I would jes' as soon that yo'