a rude shed; a number of squealing, grunting pigs nosed the cracks
in the rail fence that formed still another pen; three or four pompous
turkey gobblers strutted unhurriedly about the barnlot, while some
of their less theatrical hens perched stiffly, watchfully on the
sides of a clumsy wagon-bed over against the barn. Martins and
chimney-swallows darted above the cabin and out-buildings, swirling
in mad circles, dipping and careening with incredible swiftness.

The gaunt settler conducted the unexpected guests to the barn,
where, after they had dismounted, he assisted in the removal of
the well-filled saddle-bags and rolls from the backs of their jaded
horses.

"Water?" he inquired briefly.

"No, suh," replied Zachariah, blinking as the other held the
lantern up the better to look into his face. Zachariah was a young
negro,--as black as night, with gleaming white teeth which he
revealed in a broad and friendly grin. "Had all dey could drink,
Marster, back yander at de crick."

"You couldn't have forded the Wea this time last week," said the
host, addressing Gwynne. "She's gone down considerable the last
four-five days. Out of the banks last week an' runnin' all over
creation."

"Still pretty high," remarked the other. "Came near to sweeping
Zack's mare downstream but--well, she made it and Zack has turned
black again."