The Shepherd of the Hills | Page 2

quarter. Ever hear tell o' Jim?"
"No, I have never been in these mountains before."
"I 'lowed maybe you'd heard tell o' Jim or Sammy. There's them that
'lows Jim knows a heap more 'bout old man Dewey's cave than he lets
on; his place bein' so nigh. Reckon you know 'bout Colonel Dewey,
him th' Bal' up thar's named fer? Maybe you come t' look fer the big
mine they say's in th' cave? I'll hep you hunt hit, if you want me to,
Mister."
"No," said the other, "I am not looking for mines of lead or zinc; there

is greater wealth in these hills and forests, young man."
"Law, you don't say! Jim Wilson allus 'lowed thar must be gold in these
here mountains, 'cause they're so dad burned rough. Lemme hep you,
Mister. I'd like mighty well t' git some clothes like them."
"I do not speak of gold, my boy," the stranger answered kindly. "But I
must not keep you longer, or darkness will overtake us. Do you think
this Mr. Lane would entertain me?"
Jed pushed a hand up under his tattered old hat, and scratched awhile
before he answered, "Don't know 'bout th' entertainin', Mister, but 'most
anybody would take you in." He turned and looked thoughtfully up the
trail. "I don't guess Jim's to home though; 'cause I see'd Sammy a fixin'
t' go over t' th' Matthews's when I come past. You know the Matthews's,
I reckon?"
There was a hint of impatience now in the deep voice. "No, I told you
that I had never been in these mountains before. Will Mr. Matthews
keep me, do you think?"
Jed, who was still looking up the trail, suddenly leaned forward, and,
pointing into the timber to the left of the path, said in an exciting
whisper, "Look at that, Mister; yonder thar by that big rock."
The stranger, looking, thought he saw a form, weird and ghost-like in
the mist, flitting from tree to tree, but, even as he looked, it vanished
among the hundreds of fantastic shapes in the gray forest. "What is it?"
he asked.
The native shook his head. "Durned if I know, Mister. You can't tell.
There's mighty strange things stirrin' on this here mountain, an' in the
Holler down yonder. Say, Mister, did you ever see a hant?"
The gentleman did not understand.
"A hant, a ghost, some calls 'em," explained Jed. "Bud Wilson he sure
seed old Matt's--"

The other interrupted. "Really, young man, I must go. It is already late,
and you know I have yet to find a place to stay for the night."
"Law, that's alright, Mister!" replied Jed. "Ain't no call t' worry. Stay
anywhere. Whar do you live when you're to home?"
Again Jed's question was ignored. "You think then that Mr. Matthews
will keep me?"
"Law, yes! They'll take anybody in. I know they're to home 'cause they
was a fixin' t' leave the mill when I left 'bout an hour ago. Was the river
up much when you come acrost?" As the native spoke he was still
peering uneasily into the woods.
"I did not cross the river. How far is it to this Matthews place, and how
do I go?"
"Jest foller this Old Trail. Hit'll take you right thar. Good road all th'
way. 'Bout three mile, I'd say. Did you come from Springfield or St.
Louis, maybe?"
The man lifted his satchel from the rock as he answered: "No, I do not
live in either Springfield or St. Louis. Thank you, very much, for your
assistance. I will go on, now, for I must hurry, or night will overtake
me, and I shall not be able to find the path."
"Oh, hit's a heap lighter when you git up on th' hill 'bove th' fog," said
Jed, lowering his leg from the horse's neck, and settling the meal sack,
preparatory to moving. "But I'd a heap rather hit was you than me a
goin' up on Dewey t'night." He was still looking up the trail. "Reckon
you must be from Kansas City or Chicago? I heard tell they're mighty
big towns."
The stranger's only answer was a curt "Good-by," as his form vanished
in the mist.
Jed turned and dug his heels vigorously in the old mare's flanks, as he
ejaculated softly, "Well, I'll be dod durned! Must be from New York,

sure!"
Slowly the old man toiled up the mountain; up from the mists of the
lower ground to the ridge above; and, as he climbed, unseen by him, a
shadowy form flitted from tree to tree in the dim, dripping forest.
As the stranger came in sight of the Lane cabin, a young woman on a
brown pony rode out of the gate and up the