There was little doubt that the boy was right--that Jack had come on Whizzer
killing the sheep, and had caught him at the edge of the ravine, where the
two had fought, rolling down and settling the old feud between them in the
darkness at the bottom. And up there on the hill-side, the jury that
pronounced Jack guilty pronounced him innocent, and, as the Turners started
joyfully down the hill, the sun that was to have sunk on Jack stiff in death
sank on Jack frisking before them--home.

And yet another wonder was in store for Chad. A strange horse with a strange
saddle was hitched to the Turner fence; beside it was an old mare with a
boy's saddle, and as Chad came through the gate a familiar voice called him
cheerily by name. On the porch sat Major Buford.



CHAPTER 14. THE MAJOR IN THE MOUNTAINS

The quivering heat of August was giving way and the golden peace of autumn
was spreading through the land. The breath of mountain woods by day was as
cool as the breath of valleys at night. In the mountains, boy and girl were
leaving school for work in the fields, and from the Cumberland foothills to
the Ohio, boy and girl were leaving happy holidays for school. Along a rough,
rocky road and down a shining river, now sunk to deep pools with trickling
riffles between--for a drouth was on the land--rode a tall, gaunt man on an
old brown mare that switched with her tail now and then at a long-legged,
rough-haired colt stumbling awkwardly behind. Where the road turned from the
river and up the mountain, the man did a peculiar thing, for there, in that
lonely wilderness, he stopped, dismounted, tied the reins to an overhanging
branch and, leaving mare and colt behind, strode up the mountain, on and on,
disappearing over the top. Half an hour later, a sturdy youth hove in sight,