wants work and
a home, and he's comin' along with us."

"All right, David," answered Mr. Ripley, mildly, "ef Polly Ann says so,
you kin come. Whar was you raised?"

I told him on the upper Yadkin.

"You don't tell me," said he. "Did ye ever know Dan'l Boone?"

"I did, indeed, sir," I answered, my face lighting up. "Can you tell me
where he is now?"

"He's gone to Kaintuckee, them new settlements, fer good. And ef I
wasn't eighty years old, I'd go thar, too."

"I reckon I'll go thar when I'm married," said Polly Ann, and blushed
redder than ever. Drawing me to her, she said, "I'll take you, too,
Davy."

"When you marry that wuthless Tom McChesney," said her grandfather,
testily.

"He's not wuthless," said Polly hotly, "he's the best man in
Rutherford's army. He'll git more sculps then any of 'em,--you see."

"Tavy is ein gut poy," Hans put in, for he had recovered his composure.
"I wish much he stay mit me."

As for me, Polly Ann never consulted me on the subject--nor had she need
to. I would have followed her to kingdom come, and at the thought of
reaching the mountains my heart leaped with joy. We all slept in the one
flea-infested, windowless room of the "tavern" that night; and before
dawn I was up and untethered the horses, and Polly Ann and I together
lifted the two bushels of alum salt on one of the beasts and the
ploughshare on the other. By daylight we had left Hans and his farm
forever.

I can see the lass now, as she strode along the trace by the flowing
river, through sunlight and shadow, straight and supple and strong.
Sometimes she sang like a bird, and the forest rang. Sometimes she would
make fun of her grandfather or of me; and again she would be silent for
an hour at a time, staring ahead, and then I knew she was thinking of
that Tom McChesney. She would wake from those reveries with a laugh, and
give me a push to send me rolling down a bank.

"What's the matter, Davy? You look as solemn as a wood-owl. What a
little wiseacre you be!"

Once I retorted, "You were thinking of that Tom McChesney."

"Ay, that she was, I'll warrant," snapped her grandfather.

Polly Ann replied, with a merry peal of laughter, "You are both jealous
of Tom--both of you. But, Davy, when you see him you'll love him as much
as I do."

"I'll not," I said sturdily.

"He's a man to look upon--"

"He's a rip-roarer," old man Ripley put in. "Ye're daft about him."

"That I am," said Polly, flushing and subsidi