We travelled slowly, day by day, until I saw the mountains lift blue
against the western sky, and the sight of them was like home once more.
I loved them; and though I thought with sadness of my father, I was on
the whole happier with Polly Ann than I had been in the lonely cabin on
the Yadkin. Her spirits flagged a little as she drew near home, but old
Mr. Ripley's rose.

"There's Burr's," he would say, "and O'Hara's and Williamson's," marking
the cabins set amongst the stump-dotted corn-fields. "And thar,"
sweeping his hand at a blackened heap of logs lying on the stones,
"thar's whar Nell Tyler and her baby was sculped."

"Poor Nell," said Polly Ann, the tears coming into her eyes as she turned
away.

"And Jim Tyler was killed gittin' to the fort. He can't say I didn't
warn him."

"I reckon he'll never say nuthin', now," said Polly Ann.

It was in truth a dismal sight,--the shapeless timbers, the corn, planted
with such care, choked with weeds, and the poor utensils of the little
family scattered and broken before the door-sill. These same Indians had
killed my father; and there surged up in my breast that hatred of the
painted race felt by every backwoods boy in my time.

Towards the end of the day the trace led into a beautiful green valley,
and in the middle of it was a stream shining in the afternoon sun. Then
Polly Ann fell entirely silent. And presently, as the shadows grew
purple, we came to a cabin set under some spreading trees on a knoll