t, cantering on broncos
by the side of his Kentucky thoroughbred. Merry, dark-eyed,
black-haired Echo always rode upon the off side, and saucy Polly, with
golden curls, blue eyes, and tip-tilted nose, upon the near. The
ex-Confederate soldier dubbed them, in military style, his "right and
left wings." As the three would "make a raid" upon Florence, the
county town, the inhabitants did not need to look out of doors to
ascertain who were coming, for the merriment of the little girls gave
sufficient indication. "Here comes Jim Allen ridin' like the
destroyin' angel," said young Sheriff Hoover, on one of these
occasions, "I know him by the rustlin' of his 'wings.'"

The household was again increased a few years later by the generous
response of the Allens to an appeal from a Children's Aid Society in an
Eastern city to give a home to two orphaned brothers, Richard and
Henry Lane. "Dick" and "Buddy" (shortened in time to Bud), as they
were called, being taken young, quickly adapted themselves to their new
environment, and by the time they arrived at manhood had proved
themselves the equals of any cowboy on the range in horsemanship and
kindred accomplishments. Dick, the elder brother, was a steady,
reliable fellow, modest as he was brave, and remarkably quick-witted
and resourceful in emergencies. He gave his confidence over readily to
his fellows, but if he ever found himself deceived, withdrew it
absolutely. It was probably this last characteristic that attracted to
him Echo Allen's especial regard, for it was also her distinguishing
trait. "You have got to act square with Echo," her father was wont to
say, "for if you don't you'll never make it square with her afterward."

Bud was a generous-hearted, impetuous boy, who responded warmly to
affection. He repaid his elder brother's protecting care with a loyalty
that knew no bounds. The Colonel, who was a strict disciplinarian,
frequently punished him in his boyhood for wayward acts, and the little
fellow made no resistance--only sobbed in deep penitence. Once,
however, when Uncle Jim, as the boys and Polly called him, felt
compelled to apply to rod to Dick--unjustly, as it afterward
appeared--Bud burst into a tempest of passionate tears, and, leaping
upon the Colonel's back, clung there clawing and striking like a
wildcat until Allen was forced to let Dick go. It is shrewdly
indicative of the Colonel's character that not only did he refrain from
punishing Bud on