"You kin have all ye want," said old Gabe, quietly.

"The mill on Dead Crick is broke ag'in," she continued, " 'n' co'n is
skeerce on our side. We'll have to begin buyin' purty soon, so I
thought I'd save totin' the co'n down hyeh." She handed old Gabe
the empty bag.

Well,'' said he, '' as it air gittin' late, 'n' ye have to climb the
mountain ag'in, I'll let ye have that comm' out o' the hopper now.
Take a cheer."

The girl sat down in the low chair, and, loos ening the strings of
her bonnet, pushed it back from her head. An old-fashioned horn
comb dropped to the floor, and when she stooped to pick it up she
let her hair fall in a head about her shoulders. Thrusting one hand
under it, she calmly tossed the whole mass of chestnut and gold
over the back of the chair, where it fell rippling like water through
a bar of sunlight. With head thrown back and throat bared, she
shook it from side to side, and, slowly coiling it, pierced it with the
coarse comb. Then passing her hands across her forehead and
temples, as women do, she folded them in her lap, and sat
motionless. The boy, crouched near, held upon her the mesmeric
look of a serpent. Old Gabe was peering covertly from under the
brim of his hat, with a chuckle at his lips. Rome had fallen back to
a corner of the mill, sobered, speechless, his rifle in a nerveless
hand. The passion that fired him at the boy's warning had as
swiftly gone down at sight of the girl, and her cutting rebuke made
him hot again with shame. He was angry, too-more than
angry-because he felt so helpless, a sensation that was new and