the cracks of which the smoke oozed. It contained only one room, was
roofed with crudely split boards of oak, and was without a window of
any sort. Outside against the wall on the right of the shutterless
door was a shelf holding a battered tin water pail and a gourd.

Within, as the visitors approached nearer, was heard the grinding of
feet on the rough planks of the floor and the faint, tremulous cry of
a child. A lank young man appeared at the door. He wore a ragged,
earth-stained shirt and patched pants. His yellowish hair was tousled,
a scant tuft of beard was on his sharp chin, and whiskers of a week's
standing mottled his hollow cheeks. His blue eyes peered out
despondently from their shadowy sockets.

"How is Robby now, Tobe?" Dolly asked.

The man stepped down to the ground, and in his tattered, gaping shoes
slowly shambled forward.

"I can't see no change, Miss Dolly," he gulped. "He seems to me as
sick as ever. If anything, he don't git his breath as free as he did.
Annie's mighty nigh distracted. I don't know which way to turn or what
to do when she gives up."

"I know it--poor thing!" Dolly answered. She turned to Mostyn. "Wait
here. I'll be out before long."

Followed by the anxious father, she went into the cabin. Mostyn sat
down at the root of a big beech tree and glanced over the peaceful
landscape. How wonderful the scene! he thought. The top of the
mountain was lost in the lifting mist along its base and sides. The