have rendered him free from the liability of
a similar annoyance to-day.

"Ah reckon you-all 'll have to get a new harness some time," returned
Sophy, placidly, holding the reins which her husband transferred to her
as, with no great relish, he lowered his long, lean person into the red
sea of mud below.

"Rather juicy down here. Got any string, wife?"

"Not a bit. You'll have to take a piece out of the lines," suggested
Mrs. Morgan, with resource born of long experience.

"Ah 'low Ah will, though they're pretty short now from doing the same
thing befo'."

He examined them gravely.

"They ain't very strong, either," he added. "Let's see, where are we
at?" He looked about him for landmarks. "Oh, there's the road that
leads to the Baron's over yonder. Give me yo' handkerchief fo' this
other trace now, and we'll try and get there befo' it pops again."

Friedrich von Rittenheim was standing on the porch in front of his
cabin, gazing at the western sky. A royal mantle of purple enwrapped
the shoulders of mighty Pisgah against a background of lucent gold. The
expression of anxiety and of spiritless longing left the man's face as
he watched the melting glory.

"_Wunderschoen!_" he murmured. "I wonder if she, too, is seeing it,
also."

The Doctor's buggy came laboring into sight around the corner of the
house.

"_Ach_, here are my so good friends, who are ever welcome. I kiss your
hand, gr-racious Madam," he cried, as he went to the side of the
carriage, and unshrinkingly saluted an old fur glove, from which the
gracious madam's every finger was protruding.

"Ah've broken mah traces, Baron. Can you-all let me have some wire or
string?"

"With delight, my dear Doctor. And will you not do me the honor to
enter herein, dear lady, while the Herr Doctor and I r-repair the
har-rness?"

He helped her from the buggy with a courtesy that induced a responsive
manner in her, and she sailed ponderously into the cabin, displaying an
elegance that caused her husband to chuckle and say to himself,--

"He certainly does fetch the women!"

The Baron stirred the fire, whose light fell on a scar, the mark of a
student duel, that crept out from under his hair. He left Mrs. Morgan
stretching her plump feet and puffy hands to enjoy the flames' warmth,
while her keen eyes examined every corner of the bare room, its tidily
swept hearth, and the bunch of galax leaves on the table.

"You-all keep pretty neat fo' a bachelor," she sa