"I 'lowed maybe you'd heard tell o' Jim or Sammy. There's them
that 'lows Jim knows a heap more 'bout old man Dewey's cave than
he lets on; his place bein' so nigh. Reckon you know 'bout Colonel
Dewey, him th' Bal' up thar's named fer? Maybe you come t' look
fer the big mine they say's in th' cave? I'll hep you hunt hit, if
you want me to, Mister."

"No," said the other, "I am not looking for mines of lead or zinc;
there is greater wealth in these hills and forests, young man."

"Law, you don't say! Jim Wilson allus 'lowed thar must be gold in
these here mountains, 'cause they're so dad burned rough. Lemme
hep you, Mister. I'd like mighty well t' git some clothes like
them."

"I do not speak of gold, my boy," the stranger answered kindly.
"But I must not keep you longer, or darkness will overtake us. Do
you think this Mr. Lane would entertain me?"

Jed pushed a hand up under his tattered old hat, and scratched
awhile before he answered, "Don't know 'bout th' entertainin',
Mister, but 'most anybody would take you in." He turned and looked
thoughtfully up the trail. "I don't guess Jim's to home though;
'cause I see'd Sammy a fixin' t' go over t' th' Matthews's when I
come past. You know the Matthews's, I reckon?"

There was a hint of impatience now in the deep voice. "No, I told
you that I had never been in these mountains before. Will Mr.
Matthews keep me, do you think?"