except for a few dull coals in a gloomy cavern which formed the
fireplace.

Sit down, ef ye kin find a cheer," said Raines, " 'n' I'll fix up the
fire."

Do you live here alone?" asked Clayton. He could hear the keen,
smooth sound of the mountaineer's knife going through wood.

"Yes," he answered; " fer five year."

The coals brightened; tiny flames shot from them; in a moment the
blaze caught the dry fagots, and shadows danced over the floor,
wall, and ceiling, and vanished as the mountaineer rose from his
knees. The room was as bare as the cell of a monk. A rough bed
stood in one corner; a few utensils hung near the fireplace,
wherein were remnants of potatoes roasting in the ashes, and close
to the wooden shutter which served as a window was a board table.
On it lay a large book-a Bible-a pen, a bottle of ink, and a piece of
paper on which were letters traced with great care and difficulty.
The mountaineer did not sit down, but began pacing the floor
behind Clayton. Clayton moved his chair, and Raines seemed
unconscious of his presence as with eyes on the floor he traversed
the narrow width of the cabin.

Y'u hevn't seed me up on the mount 'in lately, hev ye? " he asked.
"I reckon ye haven't missed me much. Do ye know whut I've been
doin'?" he said, with sudden vehemence, stopping still and resting
his eyes, which glowed like an animal's from the darkened end of
the cabin, on Clayton.