, and
continued through back pastures and fields, disfigured by black and
sharp tobacco stubble. Boone followed past fodder-racks and pig-sties,
until they brought up at a square, two-roomed house with blank,
unpainted walls, set in a small yard as barren as those of the hills,
but unrelieved by any background of laurel or forest. About this
untempered starkness of habitation stretched empty fields, snow-patched
and desolate, and the boy's face dropped as he heard his kinsman's
announcement, "This hyar's whar I dwells at."

"Who--who dwells over yon at t'other house?" came Boone's rather timid
query. "Ther huge brick one, with them big white poles runnin' up in
front."

Saul laughed with a rasping note in his voice, "Hit b'longs ter Colonel
Tom Wallifarro, ther lawyer, but he don't dwell thar hisself, save only
now an' then."

Fulton paused, and his face took on the unpleasant churlishness of class
hatred. "Ther whole kit and kaboodle of 'em will be hyar soon, though.
They all comes back fer Christmas, an' holds dancin' parties, and
carousin's, damn 'em!"

A seriously puzzled expression clouded the boy's eyes, and he asked
simply, "Hain't ye friendly with 'em, Saul?"

"No," was the short rejoinder, "I hain't friendly with no rich lowlander
that holds scorn fer an honest man jest because he's poor."

On subsequent occasions when Boone passed the "great house" it seemed
almost as quiet as though it were totally untenanted, but with the
approach of Christmas it awoke from its sleep of inactivity.

The young mountaineer was trudging along one day through a gracious
woodland, which even, in the starkness of winter, hinted at the nobility
that summer leafage must give to its parklike spaces. His way carried
him close to the paddocks flanking the ample barns, and he could see
that the house windows were ruddy from inner hearth fires, and decked
with holly wreaths.

In the paddocks themselves were a dozen persons, all opulent of seeming,
and what interested the passer-by, even more than the people, were the
high-headed, gingerly stepping horses that were being led out by negro
boys for their inspection.

In the group Boone recognized the man whom Asa had identified that day
in Marlin as Mr. Masters, a "mine boss," and the gentleman who had come
with him out of the mountain hotel. The boy surmised that this latter
must be Colonel Tom Wallifarro himself, the owner of all these acres.

There was a small girl too, whom