He did not intend raising tobacco in great
quantities, he said, as he was here on account of his health, but would
raise some tobacco, just enough to keep him engaged, to keep him out of
deeper mischief.

"I might have the same fate served out to me as did one over yonder a
few nights back, if I should raise much tobacco."

For a moment there was a deep silence over the trio. Nora looked quickly
up toward the mountain, while her mother cast her eyes downward and
counted the cracks in the porch floor.

"Ye mout come through all right," she said finally.

"I might, and I may conclude to raise a large crop some time. I have
lately purchased the old Redmond farm, but don't intend using it for the
time being. A fellow living a lonely life does not feel greatly like
working much."

"Ye've got the richest land in ther whole valley," said Mrs. Judson,
"that's sure."

"I have heard so. I look for great crops off it in the future. Do not
hope to meet the same fate the former owner met with."

"Not very likely that ye will. I hope not."

"Thank you."

Wade, feeling that to prolong his call at this time would be encroaching
on mountain hospitality, excused himself, promising to come again.

"I'm very sorry," he said, "not to have met your men folks."

"They mout be here next time you call," said Nora, following him out to
the gate, loath to see him going. "I'll read ther book clean through.
Good-by, Jack."

"Good-by, Nora."

There was something attractive in young Jack Wade's bearing that caused
Nora Judson to look long after him as he wended down the road toward his
own cabin. Once he looked back and saw her still standing at the gate,
where he left her. Her hands were clasped before her, she stood erect,
looking neither to the right nor to the left, but straight in front of
her. Jack waved his hand, but she did not return the wave. When he was a
long way off he turned and looked again. She still stood motionless,
gazing out into the far beyond, her dress waving in the gentle wind, her
tresses, wafted by the gentle breezes, falling about her crimson cheeks.

CHAPTER IV

The cool air of the early morning, blowing down from the mountain, is
refreshing and invigorating to Jack Wade, who is standing in the door of
his cabin leaning against the facing leisurely, taking in with his eye
the broad expanse of the valley before him.

He inhales deeply of the pure fresh Kentucky morning air, while his
athletic fr