with stares of curiosity and low laughter.

Clayton had been delayed by his work, and the match was already
going on when he reached the grounds.

"You've missed mighty fine shootin'," said Uncle Tommy Brooks,
who was squatted on the ground near the group of marksmen.

Sherd's been a-beatin' ever'body. I'm afeard Easter hain't a-comm'.
The match is 'most over now. Ef she'd been here, I don't think
Sherd would 'a' got the ch'ice parts o' that beef so easy."

"Which is he? " asked Clayton.

That tall feller thar loadin' his gun."

"What did you say his name was?

" Sherd Raines, the feller that's goin' to be our circuit-rider."

He remembered the peculiar name. So this was Easter's lover.
Clayton looked at the young mountaineer, curiously at first, and
then with growing interest. His quiet air of authority among his
fellows was like a birthright; it seemed assumed and accepted
unconsciously. His face was smooth, and he was fuller in figure
than the rest, but still sinewy and lank, though not awkward; his
movements were too quick and decisive for that. With a casual
glance Clayton had wondered what secret influence could have
turned to spiritual things a man so merely animal-like in face and
physique; but when the mountaineer thrust back his hat, elemental