fireplace the red flames from lightwood splits leaped over a smouldering
hickory log, filling the cabin with the penetrating odour of burning,
resinous pine. From the wall above the hearth a dozen roasting apples
were suspended by hemp strings, and as the heat penetrated the russet
coats the apples circled against the yawning chimney like small globes
revolving about a sun.

Eugenia was sitting silently in a low, split-bottomed chair, her hands
folded in her lap and her animated eyes on the dark faces across from
her, over whose wrinkled surfaces the dancing firelight chased in ruddy
lights and shadows.

Uncle Ish had stretched his feet out upon the stones, and the mud
adhering to his rough, homemade boots was fast drying before the blaze
and settling in coarse gray dust upon the hearth. His gnarled old palms
lay upward on his knees, and his grizzled head was bowed upon his chest.
At intervals he muttered softly to himself, but his words were
inaudible--suggested by some far-off and disconnected vision. Aunt
Verbeny was nodding in her chair, arousing herself from time to time to
give a sharp glance into the face of Uncle Ish.

"Huccome dey let you out ter-night, honey?" asked Delphy suddenly,
turning her eyes upon Eugenia as she drew a fresh handful of wool from
between the covers of the quilt.

"I ran away," replied the child gravely. "I saw Bernard with his hare
trap, and Bernard shan't do nothin' that I can't do."

"Yes, I shall," rejoined Bernard without looking up from his trap. "You
can't wear breeches."