The Shepherd of the Hills | Page 5

Matthews showed both pleasure and
amusement. "You're mistaken, Mister; the boy's mine alright, an' he's
all that you say, an' more, I reckon. I doubt if there's a man in the hills
can match him to-day; not excepting Wash Gibbs; an' he's a mighty
good boy, too. But the girl is a daughter of a neighbor, and no kin at
all."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the other, "you have only one child then?"
The amused smile left the face of the old mountaineer, as he answered
slowly, "There was six boys, sir; this one, Grant, is the youngest. The

others lie over there." He pointed with his pipe to where a clump of
pines, not far from the house, showed dark and tall, against the last red
glow in the sky.
The stranger glanced at the big man's face in quick sympathy. "I had
only two; a boy and a girl," he said softly. "The girl and her mother
have been gone these twenty years. The boy grew to be a man, and now
he has left me." The deep voice faltered. "Pardon me, sir, for speaking
of this, but my lad was so like your boy there. He was all I had, and
now--now--I am very lonely, sir."
There is a bond of fellowship in sorrow that knows no conventionalities.
As the two men sat in the hush of the coming night, their faces turned
toward the somber group of trees, they felt strongly drawn to one
another.
The mountaineer's companion spoke again half to himself; "I wish that
my dear ones had a resting place like that. In the crowded city cemetery
the ground is always shaken by the tramping of funeral professions."
He buried his face in his hands.
For some time the stranger sat thus, while his host spoke no word. Then
lifting his head, the man looked away over the ridges just touched with
the lingering light, and the valley below wrapped in the shadowy mists.
"I came away from it all because they said I must, and because I was
hungry for this." He waved his hand toward the glowing sky and the
forest clad hills. "This is good for me; it somehow seems to help me
know how big God is. One could find peace here--surely, sir, one could
find it here--peace and strength."
The mountaineer puffed hard at his pipe for a while, then said gruffly,
"Seems that way, Mister, to them that don't know. But many's the time
I've wished to God I'd never seen these here Ozarks. I used to feel like
you do, but I can't no more. They 'mind me now of him that blackened
my life; he used to take on powerful about the beauty of the country
and all the time he was a turnin' it into a hell for them that had to stay
here after he was gone."

As he spoke, anger and hatred grew dark in the giant's face, and the
stranger saw the big hands clench and the huge frame grow tense with
passion. Then, as if striving to be not ungracious, the woodsman said in
a somewhat softer tone, "You can't see much of it, this evening, though,
'count of the mists. It'll fair up by morning, I reckon. You can see a
long way from here, of a clear day, Mister."
"Yes, indeed," replied Mr. Howitt, in an odd tone. "One could see far
from here, I am sure. We, who live in the cities, see but a little farther
than across the street. We spend our days looking at the work of our
own and our neighbors' hands. Small wonder our lives have so little of
God in them, when we come in touch with so little that God has made."
"You live in the city, then, when you are at home?" asked Mr.
Matthews, looking curiously at his guest.
"I did, when I had a home; I cannot say that I live anywhere now."
Old Matt leaned forward in his chair as if to speak again; then paused;
someone was coming up the hill; and soon they distinguished the
stalwart form of the son. Sammy coming from the house with an empty
bucket met the young man at the gate, and the two went toward the
spring together.
In silence the men on the porch watched the moon as she slowly
pushed her way up through the leafy screen on the mountain wall.
Higher and higher she climbed until her rays fell into the valley below,
and the drifting mists from ridge to ridge became a sea of ghostly light.
It was a weird scene, almost supernatural in its beauty.
Then from down at the spring a young girl's laugh rose clearly, and the
big mountaineer said in a low tone, "Mr.