for a day's visit to the city, and ever after had been a hero to
his backwoods schoolmates. It was this distinction, really, that
first won Sammy's admiration, and made them sweethearts before the
girl's skirts had touched the tops of her shoes. Before the woman
in her was fairly awake she had promised to be his wife; and they
were going away now to live in that enchanted land.

Spying an extra choice bunch of grass a few steps to one side of
the path, Brownie turned suddenly toward the valley; and the
girl's eyes left the distant ridge for the little cabin and the
sheep corral in Mutton Hollow. Sammy always spoke of that cabin as
"Young Matt's house." And, all unbidden now, the thought came, who
would live with the big fellow down there in the valley when she
had gone far away to make her home with Ollie and his people in
the city?

An impatient tug at the reins informed Brownie that his mistress
was aware of his existence, and, for a time, the pony was obliged
to pass many a luscious bunch of grass. But soon the reins fell
slack again. The little horse moved slowly, and still more slowly,
until, by the relaxed figure of his rider, he knew it was safe to
again browse on the grass along the path.

So, wondering, dreaming, Sammy Lane rode down the trail that
morning--the trail that is nobody knows how old. And on the hill
back of the Matthews house a team was standing idle in the middle
of the field.

At the big rock on the mountain side, where the trail seems to
pause a moment before starting down to the valley, the girl