tanning, to which Byers amicably responded.

The mists were shifting as Birt went on and on. He heard the acorns
dropping from the chestnut-oaks--sign that the wind was awake in the
woods. Like a glittering, polished blade, at last a slanting
sunbeam fell. It split the gloom, and a radiant afternoon seemed to
emerge. The moist leaves shone; far down the aisles of the woods
the fugitive mists, in elusive dryadic suggestions, chased each
other into the distance. Although the song-birds were all silent,
there was a chirping somewhere--cheerful sound! He had almost
reached his destination when a sudden rustling in the undergrowth by
the roadside caused him to turn and glance back.

Two or three shoats lifted their heads and were gazing at him with
surprise, and a certain disfavor, as if they did not quite like his
looks. A bevy of barefooted, tow-headed children were making mud
pies in a marshy dip close by. An ancient hound, that had renounced
the chase and assumed in his old age the office of tutor, seemed to
preside with dignity and judgment. He, too, had descried the
approach of the stranger. He growled, but made no other
demonstration.

"Whar's Nate?" Birt called out, for these were the children of
Nate's eldest brother.

For a moment there was no reply. Then the smallest of the small
boys shrilly piped out, "He hev gone away!--him an' gran'dad's
claybank mare."

Another unexpected development! "When will he come back?"