"I'd heerd so much about what you furriners was a-doin' over
thar."

"You must have heard about a place farther over--but it's coming
over there, too, some day." And still she looked an unspoken
question.

The fish that Hale had caught was lying where he had left it on
the edge of the porch.

"That's for you, June," he said, pointing to it, and the name as
he spoke it was sweet to his ears.

"I'm much obleeged," she said, shyly. "I'd 'a' cooked hit fer ye
if I'd 'a' knowed you wasn't goin' to take hit home."

"That's the reason I didn't give it to you at first--I was afraid
you'd do that. I wanted you to have it."

"Much obleeged," she said again, still unsmiling, and then she
suddenly looked up at him--the deeps of her dark eyes troubled.

"Air ye ever comin' back agin, Jack?" Hale was not accustomed to
the familiar form of address common in the mountains, independent
of sex or age--and he would have been staggered had not her face
been so serious. And then few women had ever called him by his
first name, and this time his own name was good to his ears.

"Yes, June," he said soberly. "Not for some time, maybe--but I'm
coming back again, sure." She smiled then with both lips and eyes-