Come in to the fire. Don't take
that thar cheer, the behime legs is broke, an' it's apt to lay you
sprawling. I've knowed Creed Bonbright sence he wasn't knee-high to a
turkey, and I knowed his daddy afore him, and his grand-daddy, for the
matter of that."

Avoiding the treacherous piece of furniture against which she had been
warned, Judith slipped out of her wet riding-skirt and arranged it in
front of the fire to dry, turning then and seating herself on the broad
hearth at Nancy's knee, where she prompted feverishly,

"And is all the Bonbrights moved out of the neighbourhood?"

The old woman drew a few meditative whiffs on her pipe.

"All gone," she nodded; "some of 'em killed up in the big feud, and some
moved away--mostly to Texas." Presently she added:

"That there Bonbright tribe is a curious nation of folks. They're always
after great things, and barkin' their shins against rocks in the way.
Creed's mammy--she was Judge Gillenwaters's sister, down in
Hepzibah--died when he was no bigger'n Little Buck, and his pappy never
wedded again. We used to name him and Creed Big 'Fraid and Little 'Fraid;
they was always round together, like a man and his shadder. Then the
feuds broke out mighty bad, and the Blackshearses got Esher Bonbright one
night in a mistake for some of my kin--or so it was thort. Anyhow, the
man was dead, and Creed lived with me fer a spell till his uncle down in
Hepzibah wanted him to come and learn to be a lawyer."

"Lived right here--in this house?" inquired Judith, looking around her,
as she rose and turned the riding-skirt.

"Lord, yes--why not? You would a-knowed all about it, only your folks
never moved in from the Fur Cove neighbourhood till the year Creed went
down to the settlement."

The girl sank back on the hearth, but continued to gaze about her, and
the tell-tale expression in her eyes seemed to afford Nancy Card much
quiet amusement.

"Do you reckon he'll live with you again when he comes back into the
mountains?" she inquired finally.

"I reckon he'll be weddin' one of them thar town gals and fetchin' a wife
home to his own farm over by yo' house," suggested the inveterate tease.

Judith went suddenly white, and then red. "You don't know of anybody--you
hain't heard he was promised, have you?" she hesitated.

"I ain't hearn that he was, and I ain't hearn that he wasn't," returned
Nancy serenely. "The gal that gits Creed Bonbright'll be doin' mighty
well; but also she ma