ell acquainted with my neighbors, but I
shall become better acquainted soon. One cannot expect to be greatly
elated at once, or happy altogether, until he knows his neighbors well."

"Nice folks 'round here," she replied. "Once you git to know them you
are sure to like them."

There came a moment of silence.

"Do you live in the house toward the mountain?" asked Wade.

"That's Dad's house. I live there--have lived there for many years."

"You are very fond of the hills and ravines, I presume?"

"An' the brooks. They are the only companions I have ever known, except
my brother, an' he's been in the saddle ever since I was old enough to
have companions, or remember anything. They are my friends,--the cow and
the dog, the chickens an' the geese, the ducks an' the turkeys, an' even
the grunting pigs, are the only friends I have ever known."

"What a terribly lonesome life that seems to have been."

"Not to me; it has been a happy one."

"Pardon me, I should not have spoken that way."

"Hit don't make any difference how you speak," she said independently.
"We are used to everything here."

"Who lives yonder to the south of us?" asked Wade, pointing in the
direction indicated.

"Jim Thompson. He's a terbacker raiser, too."

"And who to the west yonder?"

"Oh, that's the place where old John Redmond lived. It's not used now."

There was a tinge of sorrow in the girl's voice as she spoke.

"What became of old John Redmond?" asked Wade, his own voice quivering.

"Don't ye know, hain't ye heerd?"

"Haven't heard anything yet; haven't been here long enough to learn
much."

This untruth brought a flush over Jack Wade's face, but it was not seen
by the girl, the darkness being too deep.

"He was killed by the Nightriders," she said, choking; "shot to death
when his home was burned."

"So that's the course pursued with a fellow here, is it?" Wade's lips
curled scornfully.

"Sometimes, an' sometimes they don't. It's accordin' to what the other
feller is about."

"What has a fellow to do to bring about such an end as that served out
to old John Redmond?"

"Nuthin'. Old John didn't do nuthin'; that's what the trouble was."

"Who are the Nightriders?" asked Wade, after a moment's thought.

"Say, stranger," said the girl at this juncture, and evasively, "here's
my home, an' ye better git now. Ef Dad ketches ye here he mou't do to ye
like them fellers done old John Redmond, so I says much obleege fer
helpin