words had stirred the fire, and the girl's presence by his side
added fuel to the flame. He could not speak. He dared not even
look at her, but rode with his eyes fixed upon the ground, where
the sunlight fell in long bars of gold. Sammy, too, was silent.
She felt something that was strangely like fear, when she found
herself alone with her big neighbor. Now and then she glanced
timidly up at him and tried to find some word with which to break
the silence. She half wished that she had not come. So they rode
together through the lights and shadows down into the valley, the
only creatures in all the free life of the forest who were not
free.

At last the girl spoke, "It's mighty good of you to take me over
to Mandy's to-night. There ain't no one else I could o' gone
with." There was no reply, and Sammy, seeming not to notice,
continued talking in a matter-of-fact tone that soon--for such is
the way of a woman--won him from his mood, and the two chatted
away like the good comrades they had always been.

Just after they had crossed Fall Creek at Slick Rock Ford, some
two miles below the mill, Young Matt leaned from his saddle, and
for a little way studied the ground carefully. When he sat erect
again, he remarked, with the air of one who had reached a
conclusion, "Wouldn't wonder but there'll be doin's at Ford's to-
night, sure enough."

"There's sure to be," returned the girl; "everybody'll be there.
Mandy's folks from over on Long Creek are comin', and some from
the mouth of the James. Mandy wanted Daddy to play for 'em, but he
says he can't play for parties no more, and they got that old