arted for the fields, and I thought of their stricken brother
in the settlements, who must have been much like Mart.

Back up the Big Black Mountain we toiled, and late in the afternoon we
were on the State line that runs the crest of the Big Black. Right on
top and bisected by that State line sat a dingy little shack, and there,
with one leg thrown over the pommel of his saddle, sat Marston, drinking
water from a gourd.

"I was coming over to meet you," he said, smiling at the Blight, who,
greatly pleased, smiled back at him. The shack was a "blind Tiger"
where whiskey could be sold to Kentuckians on the Virginia side and
to Virginians on the Kentucky side. Hanging around were the slouching
figures of several moonshiners and the villainous fellow who ran it.

"They are real ones all right," said Marston. "One of them killed a
revenue officer at that front door last week, and was killed by the
posse as he was trying to escape out of the back window. That house will
be in ashes soon," he added. And it was.

As we rode down the mountain we told him about our trip and the people
with whom we had spent the night--and all the time he was smiling
curiously.

"Buck," he said. "Oh, yes, I know that little chap. Mart had him posted
down there on the river to toll you to his house--to toll YOU," he added
to the Blight. He pulled in his horse suddenly, turned and looked up
toward the top of the mountain.

"Ah, I thought so." We all looked back. On the edge of the cliff, far
upward, on which the "blind Tiger" sat was a gray horse, and on it was a
man who, motionless, was looking down at us.

"He's been following you all the way," said the engineer.

"Who's been following us?" I asked.

"That's Mart up there--my friend and yours," said Marston to the
Blight. "I'm rather glad I didn't meet you on the other side of the
mountain--that's 'the Wild Dog.'" The Blight looked incredulous, but
Marston knew the man and knew the horse.

So Mart--hard-working Mart--was the Wild Dog, and he was content to
do the Blight all service without thanks, merely for the privilege of
secretly seeing her face now and then; and yet he would not look upon
that face when she was a guest under his roof and asleep.

Still, when we dropped behind the two girls I gave Marston the Hon.
Sam's warning, and for a moment he looked rather grave.

"Well," he said, smiling, "if I'm found in the road some day, you'll
know who did it."

I shook my head. "Oh