air, the bushes had parted, and a huge mountaineer towered above
them with a Winchester over his shoulder and a kindly smile under
his heavy beard. The boy was startled--not frightened.

"Hello, Babe!" he said coolly. "Whut devilmint you up to now?"

The giant smiled uneasily:

"I'm keepin' out o' the sun an' a-takin' keer o' my health," he
said, and his eyes dropped hungrily to the corn pone and fried
fish, but the boy shook his head sturdily.

"You can't git nothin' to eat from me, Babe Honeycutt."

"Now, looky hyeh, Jason--"

"Not a durn bite," said the boy firmly, "even if you air my
mammy's brother. I'm a Hawn now, I want ye to know, an' I ain't
goin' to have my folks say I was feedin' an' harborin' a
Honeycutt--'specially you."

It would have been humorous to either Hawn or Honeycutt to hear
the big man plead, but not to the girl, though he was an enemy,
and had but recently wounded a cousin of hers, and was hiding from
her own people, for her warm little heart was touched, and big
Babe saw it and left his mournful eyes on hers.

"An' I'm a-goin' to tell whar I've seed ye," went on the boy
savagely, but the girl grabbed up two fish and a corn pone and
thrust them out to the huge hairy hand eagerly stretched out.