ldren come, and every time
we laid one of them over there I thought less about leavin', until
now we never talk about it no more. Then there was our girl, too,
Mr. Howitt. No, sir, we won't never leave these hills now."

"Oh, you had a daughter, too? I understood from Mr. Matthews that
your children were all boys."

Aunt Mollie worked a few moments longer in silence, then arose and
turned toward the house. "Yes, sir, there was a girl; she's buried
under that biggest pine you see off there a little to one side.
We--we--don't never talk about her. Mr. Matthews can't stand it.
Seems like he ain't never been the same since--since--it happened.
'Tain't natural for him to be so rough and short; he's just as
good and kind inside as any man ever was or could be. He's real
taken with you, Mr. Howitt, and I'm mighty glad you're goin' to
stop a spell, for it will do him good. If it hadn't been for Sammy
Lane runnin' in every day or two, I don't guess he could have
stood it at all. I sure don't know what we'll do now that she's
goin' away. Then there's--there's--that at the ranch in Mutton
Hollow; but I guess I'd better not try to tell you about that. I
wish Mr. Matthews would, though; maybe he will. You know so much
more than us; I know most you could help us or tell us about
things."

CHAPTER V.

"JEST NOBODY."

After the midday meal, while walking about the place, Mr. Howitt
found a well worn path; it led him to the group of pines not far
from the house, where five rough head stones marked the five
mounds placed side by side. A little apart from these was another
mound, alone.

Beneath the pines the needles made a carpet, firm and smooth,
figured by the wild woodbine that clambered over the graves; moss
had gathered on the head stones, and the wind, in the dark
branches above, moaned ceaselessly. About the little plot of
ground a rustic fence of poles was built, and the path led to a
stile by which one might enter the enclosure.

The stranger seated himself upon the rude steps. Below and far
away he saw the low hills, rolling ridge on ridge like the waves
of a great sea, until in the blue distance they were so lost in
the sky that he could not say which was mountain and which was
cloud. His poet heart was stirred at sight of the vast reaches of
the forest all shifting light and shadows; the cool depths of the
near-by woods with the sunlight filtering through the leafy arches
in streaks and patches of gold o