e book, and while he was examining it, he heard a
chorus of whistlers coming along the road. Mingled with the whistling
chorus were the various sounds made by a waggon drawn by horses. Gabriel
judged that the waggon contained the young men who had been to the dance
at the Samples plantation, and in this his judgment turned out to be
correct. The young men were in a double-seated spring waggon, drawn by
two horses. They drew up in response to Gabriel's holla, and he climbed
into the waggon.

"Well, what in the name of the seven stars are you doing out here in the
woods at this time of night?" cried Jesse Tidwell, and he laughed with
humourous scorn when Gabriel told him.

"But the book belongs to Bethune's grandfather," explained Gabriel. "It
might have been ruined by rain, or by the damp night-air, if left out
until morning. If it had been my own book, perhaps I'd have trusted to
luck."

"You missed it to-night, Tolliver," said Francis Bethune. "Feel
Samples"--his name was Felix--"was considerably put out because you
didn't come. And the girls--Tolliver, when did you get acquainted with
them? They all know you. Nelly Kendrick tossed her head and turned up
her nose, and said that a dance wasn't a dance unless Mr. Tolliver was
present. Tidwell, who was the red-headed girl that raved so about
Tolliver's curls?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, "that was Amy Rowland. If she wasn't
the belle of the ball, I'll never want any more money in this world.
It's no use for Gabriel to blow his horn, when he has all the girls in
that part of the country to blow it for him. My son, when and where did
you come to know all these young ladies?"

"Why, I used to go out there to church with Mr. Sanders, and sometimes
with Mrs. Absalom. There are some fine people in that settlement."

"Fine!" exclaimed Jesse Tidwell, with real enthusiasm; "why, split silk
is as coarse as gunny-bagging by the side of those girls. I told 'em I
was coming back. 'You must!' they declared, 'and be sure and bring Mr.
Tolliver!'" Young Tidwell mimicked a girl's voice with such ridiculous
completeness that his companions shouted with laughter. "There's another
thing you missed, Tolliver," he went on. "Feel Samples has a cow that
gives apple-brandy, and old Burrel Bohannon, the one-legged fiddler,
must have milked her dry, for along about half-past ten he kind of
rolled his eyes, and fetched a gasp, and wobbled out of his chair, and
lay on the floor just a