hite
belly of a fish lay upturned to the sun, for the cruel, deadly work
of civilization had already begun. Farther up the creek was a buzzing
monster that, creaking and snorting, sent a flashing disk, rimmed with
sharp teeth, biting a savage way through a log, that screamed with pain
as the brutal thing tore through its vitals, and gave up its life each
time with a ghost-like cry of agony. Farther on little houses were being
built of fresh boards, and farther on the water of the creek got blacker
still. June suddenly clutched Bud's arms. Two demons had appeared on
a pile of fresh dirt above them--sooty, begrimed, with black faces and
black hands, and in the cap of each was a smoking little lamp.

"Huh," said Bub, "that ain't nothin'! Hello, Bill," he called bravely.

"Hello, Bub," answered one of the two demons, and both stared at the
lovely little apparition who was staring with such naive horror at them.
It was all very wonderful, though, and it was all happening in Lonesome
Cove, but Jack Hale was doing it all and, therefore, it was all right,
thought June--no matter what Dave said. Moreover, the ugly spot on the
great, beautiful breast of the Mother was such a little one after all
and June had no idea how it must spread. Above the opening for the
mines, the creek was crystal-clear as ever, the great hills were the
same, and the sky and the clouds, and the cabin and the fields of corn.
Nothing could happen to them, but if even they were wiped out by Hale's
hand she would have made no complaint. A wood-thrush flitted from a
ravine as she and Bub went back down the creek--and she stopped with
uplifted face to listen. All her life she had loved its song, and this
was the first time she had heard it in Lonesome Cove since she had
learned its name from Hale. She had never heard it thereafter without
thinking of him, and she thought of him now while it was breathing out
the very spirit of the hills, and she drew a long sigh for already she
was lonely and hungering for him. The song ceased and a long wavering
cry came from the cabin.

"So-o-o-cow! S-o-o-kee! S-o-o-kee!"

The old mother was calling the cows. It was near milking-time, and with
a vague uneasiness she hurried Bub home. She saw her father coming down
from the cornfield. She saw the two cows come from the woods into the
path that led to the barn, switching their tails and snatching mouthfuls
from the bushes as they swung down the hill and, when she reached th