Well, I 'lowed I was goin' to mill to-day. The co'n is 'mos' gone."

"Well, y'u 'lowed wrong," he answered, imperturbably.

Y'u're mean, Jas Lewallen," she cried, hotly; " that's whut ye air,
mean-dog-mean!

The young mountaineer looked up, whistled softly, and laughed.
But when he brought his horse to the door an hour later there was a
bag of corn across the saddle.

"As ye air so powerful sot on goin' to mill, whether or no, I'll leave
this hyeh sack at the bend O' the road, 'n' ye kin git it thar. I'll
bring the meal back ef ye puts it in the same place. I hates to see
women-folks a-ridin' this horse. Hit spiles him."

The horse was a dapple-gray of unusual beauty, and as the girl
reached out her hand to stroke his throat, he turned to nibble at her
arm.

"I reckon he'd jes as lieve have me ride him as you, Jas," she said.
" Me 'n' him have got to be great friends. Ye orter n't to be so
stingy."

Well, he ain't no hoss to be left out'n the bresh now, 'n' I hain't goin'
to 'low it."

Old Jasper had lounged out of the kitchen door, and stood with his
huge bulk against a shrinking pillar of the porch. The two men