ct _patois_ of the West
Virginian backwoodsman:

"Stranger, thar mought be better cooks than my Sairy Ann whar you hail
from up yon in New Yorrok; but, I swow, thar hain't another saw-mill in
West Virginny as can ekal the cookin' in my camp! Wait till Sairy Ann
br'ils these mountain trout and slaps 'em on to a pone of sweet corn
bread. See?"

"Yes, I see--in imagination--and my mouth waters! Let us go back to the
mill at once, Peters, and realize our anticipations. Hal-loo! what is
that--over on that bank, man?"

"Gee-whillikins! what, indeed?" roared the saw-mill man, rowing rapidly
to the bank and springing out so quickly as to almost upset his
companion into the pellucid stream.

Stooping over the sleeping form, the rough backwoodsman scrutinized
Dainty with amazement, ending by shaking her vigorously, as he
exclaimed, in wonder:

"Wake up, honey; wake up, and tell us whar in thunder you come from,
a-sleepin' here like the dead, your clothes all wet and drabbled, and
your little feet bare and torn and bloody with the rocks and briars!
Why, 'tis a sight to make that soft Sairy Ann cry her eyes out! What's
your name, chile, and whar'd you cum from anyway?" as the blue eyes
flared wide open and Dainty stared at his kindly, gray-bearded face with
a pitiful, unrealizing moan.

The commercial traveler fastened the boat to a tree and came on the
bank, too, full of curiosity; but all their efforts failed to elicit
anything intelligible from the sick girl, and at length they came to the
very intelligent conclusion that she must be some invalid strayed away
from home, and that the only thing to do under the circumstances was to
take her back to the saw-mill with them and await developments.

They did so, and thus our forlorn heroine found shelter in a rude shanty
deep in the forest, among a few sturdy toilers who were camping here for
the summer, a half score of rough but kindly men, the husband and sons
of a good soul, Sarah Ann Peters, who did all the household work for the
crowd, and accepted with open arms and heart this new claimant on her
sympathy.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE MOTHER'S WOE.

The experienced eyes of this motherly woman soon saw that the lovely
young stranger was ill of fever, and in a very serious condition; but
having successfully raised a family of nine stalwart sons by her own
skill and without aid from the doctors, she "was not feazed," as her
husband quaintly said, "by the case." She sim