soon depart from this summer home; but only to wing his way to brighter skies, and then return when mating-time should come again. Near a group of hickory-trees a colony of squirrels gathered their winter store of nuts; and a flock of wild turkeys led by a pompous, bearded gobbler picked through the underbrush. At a wayside puddle a deer bent his head to slake his thirst, but scarcely had his lips touched the water when his head was reared again. For an instant he listened, limbs quivering, nostrils dilating, a startled light in his soft eyes; then with a bound he was away into the depths of the forest. The turkeys, heeding the tocsin of alarm from their leader, sought the shelter of the deeper undergrowth; the squirrels dropped their nuts and found refuge in the topmost branches of the tree which they had just pilfered; but the redbird, undisturbed, went on with his caroling, too confident in his own beauty and the charm of his song to fear any intruder.

The cause of alarm was a horseman whose approach had been proclaimed by the crackling of dried twigs in the bridle-path he was traversing. He was an erect, broad-shouldered, dark-eyed young man with ruddy complexion, clear-cut features, and a well-formed chin. A rifle lay across his saddle-bow, and behind him was a pair of bulky saddle-bags. He wore neither the uncouth garb of the hunter nor the plain homespun of the settler, but rather the dress of the Virginian cavalier of the period, although his hair, instead of being tied in a queue, was short, and curled loosely about his finely shaped head. The broad brim of his black hat was cocked in front by a silver boss; the gray traveler's cape, thrown back, revealed a coat of dark blue, a waistcoat ornamented with brass buttons, and breeches of the same color as the coat, reaching to the knees, and terminating in a black cloth band with silver buckles.

He rode rapidly along the well-defined bridle-way, and soon emerged into a broader thoroughfare. Presently he heard the high-pitched, quavering notes of a negro melody, faint at first and seeming as much a part of nature as the russet glint of the setting sun through the trees. The song grew louder as he advanced, until, emerging into an open space, he came upon the singer, a gray-haired negro trudging sturdily along with a stout hickory stick in his hand. The negro doffed his cap and bowed humbly.

"Marstah, hez you seed anythin' ob a spotted heifer wid one horn broke off, anywhars on de road? She's pushed down de bars an' jes' skipped off somewhars."

"No, uncle, I've met no stray cows; but can you tell me how far it is to Major Hiram Gilcrest's? I'm a stranger in this region."

"Major Gilcrest's!" exclaimed the darkey. "You'se done pass de turnin' whut leads dar. Didn' you see a lane forkin' off 'bout a mile back by de crick, close to de big 'simmon-tree? Dat's de lane whut leads to Marstah Gilcrest's, suh."

"Ah, I see! but perhaps you can direct me to Mister Mason Rogers' house? My business is with him as well as with Major Gilcrest."

"I shorely kin," answered the negro, with a grin. "I b'longs to Marse Mason; I'se his ole uncle Tony. We libs two mile fuddah down dis heah same road, an' ef you wants to see my marstah an' Marstah Gilcrest bofe, you might ez well see Marse Mason fust, anyways; kaze whutevah he say, Marse Hiram's boun' to say, too. Dey's mos' mighty thick."

The stranger turned his head to hide a momentary smile.

"You jes' ride straight on," continued Uncle Tony, pointing northward with his stick; "fus' you comes to a big log house wid de shettahs all barred up, settin' by itse'f a leetle back frum de road, wid a woods all roun' it—dat's Cane Redge meetin'-house. Soon's you pass it, you comes to de big spring, den to a dirty leetle cabin whar dem pore white trash, de Simminses, libs. Den you strikes a cawnfiel', den a orchid. Den you'se dar. De dawgs an' chickens will sot up a tur'ble rumpus, but you jes' ride up to de stile an' holler, 'Hello!' an' some dem no-'count niggahs'll tek yo' nag an' construct you inter Miss Cynthy Ann's presence. I'd show you de way myse'f, on'y Is'e bountah fin' dat heifer; but you carn't miss de way."

With this he hobbled off down the road in search of the errant heifer. Meanwhile our traveler rode steadily forward until, in another half-hour, he came in sight of a more prosperous-looking clearing than any he had seen since leaving Bourbonton. To the right of the road some long-horned cattle and a mare and colt were grazing in a woodland pasture; to the left, in a field, several negroes were gathering the yellow corn from the shock and heaping it into piles. In an orchard adjoining the cornfield a barefooted, freckled-faced little girl was standing under an apple-tree with her apron held out to catch the fruit which another barefooted, freckled-faced little girl in the branches overhead was tossing down to her. In the center of a tree-shaded yard stood the house, a spacious, two-story log structure, with a huge rock chimney at each end.

As the stranger drew rein at the stile, he was greeted by a chorus of dogs, followed instantly by the cries of a number of half-clad, grinning little darkeys who came running forward from the negro quarters in the rear.

"Doan be skeered o' Ketchum, Mistah; he shan't tech you," called the largest of them, a bright-skinned mulatto, quieting the snarling dog with a kick.

"Reckon Marse Mason's somewhars 'roun' de place, suh," added the darkey in answer to the traveler's inquiry. "Miss Cynthy Ann she's in de settin'-room. Jes' walk in dar tru de passage-way, an' knock at de fust door you comes to. I'll tek yo' hoss, suh."

The stranger crossed the low, clapboard-covered porch and entered a wide, dusky hall running through the entire length of the house. The hum of a spinning-wheel guided him to a side door, at which he knocked. In answer to a loud "Come in," he stepped into a large room made cheerful by a gay rag carpet on the floor. A comely, middle-aged woman sat at a side window, at work with her needle on some coarse homespun material. Near her a bright-faced, rosy-cheeked girl, clad in short, linsey dress and homespun apron, had charge of the spinning-wheel in the center of the room. In one corner a negro girl was carding wool; and on the wide rock hearth two little boys were parching corn in a skillet.

"Glad to see you, suh," exclaimed Mrs. Rogers heartily, hastening toward the stranger with outstretched hand. "Susan," she said to the spinner, who came forward with a modest courtesy and a shy "Good evenin'," "set a cheer an' tek the gentleman's hat. Rache"—to the negro—"put by yer cardin' an' tek thet spinnin'-wheel out to the loom-room. Tommy an' Buddy, stop litt'rin' up the h'arth, an' run wash yer faces. Heah, tek this skillet with you, an' then see ef you kin find yer pap. He's down whar they're geth'rin' cawn, I reckon."

Seizing a split broom as she spoke, she brushed the hearth, then gave a tap with her foot to the smouldering logs, which broke into a blaze and sent a shower of sparks up the wide chimney.

"The days is gittin' cooler, 'spesh'ly ez night comes on. Draw up to the fire, suh—an', heah, tek this cheer; it's comf'tabler then that'n'," she said hospitably, ejecting a big tortoise-shell cat from the depths of a cushioned rocker which she pulled forward.

"My name is Dudley, madam; Abner Dudley," said the guest as he exchanged the straight, split-bottom chair for the rocker. "I learned from Squire Osborne, of Bourbonton, that a teacher was wanted in this neighborhood. I had intended going to Major Gilcrest's to-night, but made the wrong turning, and then met your old servant, who directed me here."

"You're welcome, I'm shore, 'spesh'ly ef you're a schoolmastah. We'd begun to think we warn't to hev no school a'tall this wintah. Folks 'roun' heah air beginnin' to tek big stock in schoolin'," she went on as she resumed her seat and began to sew.

"So Squire Osborne told me," answered Dudley. "I'm glad the people are interested in educational matters."