almost startled him-"I'll hev ye understan' that I don't want to be
bounden to you, nor none o' yer kin."

Turning, she gave an impatient sweep with her paddle. The prow
of the canoe dipped and was motionless. Rome had caught the
stern, and the girl wheeled in hot anger. Her impulse to strike may
have been for the moment and no longer, or she may have read
swiftly no unkindness in the mountaineer's steady look; for the
uplifted oar was stayed in the air, as though at least she would hear
him.

"I've got nothin' ag'in' you," he said, slowly, Jas Lewallen hev been
threatenin' me, 'n' I thought it was him, 'n' I was ready fer him,
when you come into the mill. I wouldn't hurt you nur no other
woman. Y'u ought to know it, 'n' ye do know it."

The words were masterful, but said in a way that vaguely soothed
the girl's pride, and the oar was let slowly into the water.

"I reckon y'u air a friend o' his," he added, still quietly. "I've seed
ye goin' up thar, but I've got nothin' ag'in' ye, whoever ye be."

She turned on him a sharp look of suspicion. "I reckon I do be a
friend o' hisn," she said, deliberately; and then she saw that he was
in earnest. A queer little smile went like a ray of light from her
eyes to her lips, and she gave a quick stroke with her paddle. The
boat shot into the current, and was carried swiftly toward the
Cumberland. The girl stood erect, swaying through light and
shadow like a great scarlet flower blowing in the wind; and Rome
watched her till she touched the other bank. Swinging the sack out,