,
unrecognized. Self-consciousness then was quite absurd.

And this man was a stranger and was on her land. She must not forget her
mountain courtesy and fail to make him welcome.

"Howdy," she said briefly.

"Howdy, little girl?" said he, and looked at her and smiled.

This form of address much amused her. She was not far beyond sixteen,
but sixteen is counted womanhood, there in the mountains, and often is
an age for wife--and motherhood as well. "Little girl," to her, seemed
laughable. But then she suddenly remembered that to stop their flapping,
when they were all soaked, against her ankles, she had pinned her skirts
up--and she was not tall. The mistake, perhaps, was natural.

"Got a fire here?" he inquired, inanely, for the fire was very much in
evidence.

"Looks like it, don't it?" she said somewhat saucily, but robbed the
comment of offense by smiling somewhat shyly at him as he stood there.

He was better looking, she reflected, now that she had an unobstructed
view of him, even than he had appeared when she had peered at him from
her concealment behind the log and barricade of rushes. Of course he
was a "foreigner," and, therefore, a mere weakling, not to be considered
seriously as a specimen of sturdy manhood (how often had she heard the
mountain men speak of the lowlands men with scorn as weaklings?) but,
none the less, he interested and attracted her, even if he did not
inspire her with respect.

He laughed. "It does," said he, "looks very much like it. Been burning
brush?"

"No," she replied, "jest warmin' up a little."

"Why, it's not cold."

"I--I was wet."

"_Wet?_" said he, astonished.

She saw her slip, and flushed. "Fell in the crik," she answered briefly,
hastily and falsely.

"Why, that's too bad," said he, with ready sympathy, unfeigned and real.

All the time the girl was eying him through often-lowered lashes, and
the more she looked at him the more she felt that he was not, like many
"foreigners," to be distrusted and be held aloof. His clothes did not
suggest to her the "revenuer," although they certainly were different
from any she had ever seen before on man or beast (his knee breeches
gave her some amusement), and he was totally unarmed, having laid his
rifle down and left it at a distance, leaning against a stump.

His hands and face were not sunburned--indeed, his hands were delicately
fashioned and much whiter than any she had ever seen before on man or
woman. His ap