s. Ye orter n't to be so stingy."

"Well, he ain't no hoss to be left out'n the bresh now, 'n' I hain't
goin' to 'low it."

Old Jasper had lounged out of the kitchen door, and stood with his huge
bulk against a shrinking pillar of the porch. The two men were much
alike. Both had the same black, threatening brows meeting over the
bridge of the nose. A kind of grim humor lurked about the old man's
mouth, which time might trace about young Jasper's. The girl's face had
no humor; the same square brows, apart and clearly marked, gave it a
strong, serious cast, and while she had the Lewallen fire, she favored
her mother enough, so the neighbors said, "to have a mighty mild, takin'
way about her ef she wanted."

"You're right, Jas," the old mountaineer said; "the hoss air a sin 'n'
temptation. Hit do me good ever' time I look at him. Thar air no sech
hoss, I tell ye, this side o' the settlements."

The boy started away, and the old man followed, and halted him out of
the girl's hearing.

"Tell Eli Crump 'n' Jim Stover to watch the Breathitt road close now,"
he said, in a low voice. "See all them citizens I tol' ye, 'n' tell
'em to be ready when I says the word. Thar's no tellin' whut's goin' to
happen."

Young Jasper nodded his head, and struck his horse into a gallop. The
old man lighted his pipe, and turned back to the house. The girl, bonnet
in hand, was starting for the valley.

"Thar ain't no use goin' to Gabe Bunch's fer yer grist," he said. "The
mill on Dead Crick's a-runnin' ag'in, 'n' I don't want ye over thar axin
favors, specially jes now."

"I lef' somethin' fer ye to eat, dad," she replied, "ef ye gits hungry
before I git back."

"You heerd me?" he called after her, knitting his brows.

"Yes, dad; I heerd ye," she answered, adding to herself, "But I don't
heed ye." In truth, the girl heeded nobody. It was not her way to ask
consent, even her own, nor to follow advice. At the bend of the road she
found the bag, and for an instant she stood wavering. An impulse turned
her to the river, and she loosed the boat, and headed it across the
swift, shallow water from the ford and straight toward the mill. At
every stroke of her paddle the water rose above the prow of the boat,
and, blown into spray, flew back and drenched her; the wind loosed her
hair, and, tugging at her skirts, draped her like a statue; and she
fought them, wind and water, with mouth set and a smile in her eyes.
One sharp struggle still, whe