. Without
a word more they passed the old school-house, the massive new one, and
went on, in silence, down the street. Hitched to a post, near the hotel,
were two gaunt horses with drooping heads, and on one of them was a
side-saddle. Sitting on the steps of the hotel, with a pipe in his
mouth, was the mighty figure of Devil Judd Tolliver. He saw them
coming--at least he saw Hale coming, and that far away Hale saw his
bushy eyebrows lift in wonder at June. A moment later he rose to his
great height without a word.

"Dad," said June in a trembling voice, "don't you know me?" The old man
stared at her silently and a doubtful smile played about his bearded
lips.

"Hardly, but I reckon hit's June."

She knew that the world to which Hale belonged would expect her to kiss
him, and she made a movement as though she would, but the habit of a
lifetime is not broken so easily. She held out her hand, and with the
other patted him on the arm as she looked up into his face.

"Time to be goin', June, if we want to get home afore dark!"

"All right, Dad."

The old man turned to his horse.

"Hurry up, little gal."

In a few minutes they were ready, and the girl looked long into Hale's
face when he took her hand.

"You are coming over soon?"

"Just as soon as I can." Her lips trembled.

"Good-by," she faltered.

"Good-by, June," said Hale.

From the steps he watched them--the giant father slouching in his
saddle and the trim figure of the now sadly misplaced girl, erect on the
awkward-pacing mountain beast--as incongruous, the two, as a fairy on
some prehistoric monster. A horseman was coming up the street behind him
and a voice called:

"Who's that?" Hale turned--it was the Honourable Samuel Budd, coming
home from Court.

"June Tolliver."

"June Taliaferro," corrected the Hon. Sam with emphasis.

"The same." The Hon. Sam silently followed the pair for a moment through
his big goggles.

"What do you think of my theory of the latent possibilities of the
mountaineer--now?"

"I think I know how true it is better than you do," said Hale calmly,
and with a grunt the Hon. Sam rode on. Hale watched them as they rode
across the plateau--watched them until the Gap swallowed them up and his
heart ached for June. Then he went to his room and there, stretched out
on his bed and with his hands clenched behind his head, he lay staring
upward.

Devil Judd Tolliver had lost none of his taciturnity. Stolidly,
silently, he w