The Shepherd of the Hills | Page 4

of life is gone, and, withered and old, one sits shaking
before the fire; a generous, loving mouth, red lipped, full arched, with
the corners tucked in and perfect teeth between; a womanly chin and
nose, with character enough to save them from being pretty; hair dark,
showing a touch of gold with umber in the shadows; a brow, full broad,
set over brown eyes that had never been taught to hide behind their
fringed veils, but looked always square out at you with a healthy look
of good comradeship, a gleam of mirth, or a sudden, wide, questioning
gaze that revealed depth of soul within.
But what is the use? When all this is written, those who knew Sammy
will say, "'Tis but a poor picture, for she is something more than all
this." Uncle Ike, the postmaster at the Forks, did it much better when he
said to "Preachin' Bill," the night of the "Doin's" at the Cove School,
"Ba thundas! That gal o' Jim Lane's jest plumb fills th' whole house.
WHAT! An' when she comes a ridin' up t' th' office on that brown pony
o' hern, I'll be dad burned if she don't pretty nigh fill th' whole out doors,

ba thundas! What!" And the little shrivelled up old hillsman, who keeps
the ferry, removed his cob pipe long enough to reply, with all the
emphasis possible to his squeaky voice, "She sure do, Ike. She sure do.
I've often thought hit didn't look jest fair fer God 'lmighty t' make sech
a woman 'thout any man t' match her. Makes me feel plumb 'shamed o'
myself t' stand 'round in th' same county with her. Hit sure do, Ike."
Greeting the girl the young man opened the gate for her to pass.
"I've been a lookin' for you over," said Sammy, a teasing light in her
eyes. "Didn't you know that Mandy was stoppin' with me? She's been a
dyin' to see you."
"I'm mighty sorry," he replied, fastening the gate and coming to the
pony's side. "Why didn't you tell me before? I reckon she'll get over it
alright, though," he added with a smile, as he raised his arms to assist
the girl to dismount.
The teasing light vanished as the young woman placed her hands on the
powerful shoulders of the giant, and as she felt the play of the swelling
muscles that swung her to the ground so easily, her face flushed with
admiration. For the fraction of a minute she stood facing him, her hands
still on his arms, her lips parted as if to speak; then she turned quickly
away, and without a word walked toward the house, while the boy,
pretending to busy himself with the pony's bridle, watched her as she
went.
When the girl was gone, the big fellow led the horse away to the stable,
where he crossed his arms upon the saddle and hid his face from the
light. Mr. Matthews coming quietly to the door a few minutes later saw
the boy standing there, and the rugged face of the big mountaineer
softened at the sight. Quietly he withdrew to the other side of the barn,
to return later when the saddle and bridle had been removed, and the
young man stood stroking the pony, as the little horse munched his
generous feed of corn.
The elder man laid his hand on the broad shoulder of the lad so like
him, and looked full into the clear eyes. "Is it alright, son?" he asked

gruffly; and the boy answered, as he returned his father's look, "It's
alright, Dad."
Then let's go to the house; Mother called supper some time ago."
Just as the little company were seating themselves at the table, the dog
in the yard barked loudly. Young Matt went to the door. The stranger,
whom Jed had met on the Old Trail, stood at the gate.
CHAPTER III.
THE VOICE FROM OUT THE MISTS.
While Young Matt was gone to the corral in the valley to see that the
sheep were safely folded for the night, and the two women were busy
in the house with their after-supper work, Mr. Matthews and his guest
sat on the front porch.
"My name is Howitt, Daniel Howitt," the man said in answer to the
host's question. But, as he spoke, there was in his manner a touch of
embarrassment, and he continued quickly as if to prevent further
question, "You have two remarkable children, sir; that boy is the finest
specimen of manhood I have ever seen, and the girl is
remarkable--remarkable, sir. You will pardon me, I am sure, but I am
an enthusiastic lover of my kind, and I certainly have never seen such a
pair."
The grim face of the elder