e low country. Got lost; stayed in a shack while it
rained, and--here I am."

"Be you a son of old Bras Granger?"

"No; grandson."

The two whispered together a moment, then one of them said:

"I reckon you're all right, boy. 'Taint wuth while to ast our names,
'cause d'ye see--we wouldn't tell."

"You'd be fools if you did," returned Ralph, his self confidence now
fully restored. "I ain't a wanting to know who you are. I know
already what you are."

"How's that?" came sharply back, and an ominous click was heard, which,
however, did not seem to alarm Ralph.

"Moonshiners," said the boy briefly. "Haven't I been raised among 'em?
I've got kin folks as stills regular, I'm sorry to say."

"Sorry! Ain't it a good trade?"

"Not when it lands you inside of some dirty jail. Besides, I don't
like the stuff, anyhow."

"No use to offer you a dram then?"

"Not a bit. But I say, if you'll let me go on with you till we get
down where there's some houses, I'll think more of that than if you
gave me a barrel of whisky."

"We're on our way back. We're goin' up the mountain. But you foller
this trail for about a mile, then take the first right hand turn.
Follow that 'twel you come to an old field. T'other side of that
you'll find the mud pike as runs to Hendersonville. After that you'll
find houses thick enough. But where are you bound for after you get
down there?"

"Oh, anywhere most. I'm after work."

Ralph concluded that he had better not be more explicit with strangers.

The moonshiners soon grew quite friendly and seemed a little hurt over
Ralph's persistence in declining a drink.

"I'm going out among strangers," he said, "and I've got to keep my
head. The best way to do that is to let the stuff entirely alone.
Well, so long, men. I'm mighty glad I met up with you."

He struck out down the trail whistling merrily. Now that he was on the
right road again, and with a clear night before him, he felt far more
cheerful than before.

He found the old field without difficulty, and not far beyond he struck
the Hendersonville pike as the moonshiner had intimated.

Here the country was more open. Large fields, interspersed with
patches of woodland, were on either hand. Now and then he would pass a
cabin, his approach being heralded by the barking of dogs.

Once or twice large buildings came into view. These were the
residences of the more wealthy class of planters. Even in the dim
starlight,