Matt play th' fool before she leaves th' woods. He ain't took his
eyes off her t'night. Everybody's laughin' at him."

"I notice they take mighty good care t' laugh behind his back,"
flashed little black-eyed Annie Brooke from the Cove neighborhood.

Young Matt, who had been dancing with Mandy Ford, came up behind
the group just in time to hear their remarks. Two or three who saw
him within hearing tried to warn the speakers, but while everybody
around them saw the situation, the two men caught the frantic
signals of their friends too late. The music suddenly stopped. The
dancers were still. By instinct every eye in the room was fixed
upon the little group, as the jokers turned to face the object of
their jests.

The big mountaineer took one long step toward the two who had
spoken, his brow dark with rage, his huge fists clenched. But,
even as his powerful muscles contracted for the expected blow, the
giant came to a dead stop. Slowly his arm relaxed. His hand
dropped to his side. Then, turning deliberately, he walked to the
door, the silent crowd parting to give him way.

As the big man stepped from the room, a gasp of astonishment
escaped from the company, and the two jokers, with frightened
faces, broke into a shrill, nervous laughter. Then a buzz of talk
went round; the fiddlers struck up again; the callers shouted; the
dancers stamped, and bowed, and swung their partners as they sang.

And out in the night under the trees, at the edge of the gloomy
forest, the strongest man in the hills was saying over and over to