house. "I'll go over and hitch up the horses."

"I have a similar task to perform," Lyman replied. "I'll see you again
before I start home."

"All right, and I am much obleeged for your company."

The sermon was over before the horses were harnessed. Warren came
running to Lyman. "You ride with the old man and let me take the girl
in the spring wagon," said he.

"What; we may not go in the same direction."

"Of course we do. We are going home with them. It's all right. I've
put the old man down for a year's subscription."

"And you want to go over there to board it out. Is that it?"

"I hadn't thought of that. But I could do it."

"Does he know that he's a subscriber?"

"Not yet, but I can tell him. Miss Nancy wants us to go."

"Did she say so?"

"Well, now what would be the use of saying so? She could say it as
easily as not. And I guess she would have said it if she had thought
to. But I know she wants us to go. Come, now, won't you go just to
oblige me? Remember, I didn't kick very hard when you killed all my
best pieces of news. Let me have a fling now, won't you? You've been
having all the fun--marriage and White Caps. Won't you go just to
oblige me?"

"Yes, I'll ride with the old man or I'll ride on a rail when you put
it that way."

"All right. Here she comes now, and the old man's up there waiting for
you."

During the drive, the old fellow commented upon the historical places
along the road. He pointed out the spot where he had killed the last
diamondback rattlesnake seen in that neighborhood; he directed Lyman's
attention to a barn wherein five negroes had been hanged for rising
against the whites in 1854; he pointed at a charred stump and told the
story of a fanatic who had tied himself there and burned himself on
account of his religion. They came at last to a large log house, the
Pitt homestead, and had unharnessed the horses before Warren and Nancy
came within sight. A tall woman, followed by a score of children of
all sizes, came out to meet them.

"They ain't all mine," said the old man. "Them as looks about fryin'
size belongs to the folks over the creek. Mother, this here is a
friend of ourn from away up yonder whar they have to slice the
potatoes and slip 'em down between the rocks, and I want to tell you
that him and me fits one another like a hand and glove."

"I am mighty glad to meet you," said the woman, wiping her hands on
her apron. "Come right in and excuse the looks of ev