to my mother as I passed on to meet the new-comer.

He was a very large and powerful man, with a matted black beard and an
extremely prominent nose. A long rifle was slung at his back, and the
heavy bay horse he bestrode bore unmistakable signs of hard travelling.
As he approached, Rover, spying him, sprang out savagely; but I caught
and held him with firm grip, for to strangers he was ever a surly brute.

"Is this yere Major Wayland's place?" the man questioned, in a deep,
gruff voice, reining in his tired horse, and carelessly flinging one
booted foot across the animal's neck as he faced me.

"Yes," I responded with caution, for we were somewhat suspicious of
stray travellers in those days, and the man's features were not
pleasing. "The Major lives here, and I am his son."

He looked at me intently, some curiosity apparent in his eyes, as he
deliberately drew a folded paper from his belt.

"No? Be ye the lad what downed Bud Eberly at the meetin' over on the
Cow-skin las' spring?" he questioned, with faintly aroused interest.

I blushed like a school-girl, for this unexpected reference was not
wholly to my liking, though the man's intentions were evidently most
kind.

"He bullied me until I could take no more," I answered, doubtfully;
"yet I hurt him more seriously than I meant."

He laughed at the trace of apology in my words.