d that two lovers, one sulking and the
other sighing, had any influence on the season. The spring had made
some delay in the valley before taking complete possession of the
mountain, but this delay was not significant. Even on the mountain, the
days began to suggest the ardor of summer. The air was alternately warm
and hazy, and crisp and clear. One day Kenesaw would cast aside its
atmospheric trappings, and appear to lie within speaking distance of
Hightower's door; the next, it would withdraw behind its blue veil, and
seem far enough away to belong to another world. On Hightower's farm the
corn was high enough to whet its green sabres against the wind. One
evening Chichester, Hightower, and Babe sat on the little porch with
their faces turned toward Kenesaw. They had been watching a line of blue
smoke on the mountain in the distance; and, as the twilight deepened
into dusk, they saw that the summit of Kenesaw was crowned by a thin
fringe of fire. As the darkness gathered, the bright belt of flame
projected against the vast expanse of night seemed to belong to the
vision of St. John.

"It looks like a picture out of the Bible," suggested Chichester
somewhat vaguely.

"It's wuss'n that, I reckon," said Abe. "Some un's a-losin' a mighty
sight of fencin'; an' timber's timber these days, lemme tell you."

"Maybe someun's a-burnin' bresh," said Babe.

"Bless you! they don't pile bresh in a streak a mile long," said Abe.

The thin line of fire crept along slowly, and the people on the little
porch sat and watched it. Occasionally it would crawl to the top of a
dead pine, and leave a fiery signal flaming in the air.

"What is the matter with Peevy?" asked Chichester. "I met him on the
mountain the other day, and he seemed not to know me."

"He don't know anybody aroun' here," said Babe with a sigh.

"Hit's thes some er his an' Babe's capers," Hightower remarked with a
laugh. "They er bin a-cuttin' up this away now gwine on two year'. I
reckon ag'in' camp-meetin' time Tuck'll drap in an' make hisself know'd.
Gals and boys is mighty funny wi' the'r gwines-on."

After a little, Abe went into the house, and left the young people to
watch the fiery procession on Kenesaw.

"The next time I see Peevy," said Chichester gallantly, "I'll take him
by the sleeve, and show him the road to Beauty's bower."

"Well, you nee'nter pester wi' 'im on account of me," said Babe.
Chichester laughed. The fact that so handsome a girl as B