After a short
rest, the man clambered into the saddle again, and fording a little
mountain brook that laughed and sang and roared among the boulders,
rode up to the clearing in which the cabin stood.
"Hello!" he shouted.
There was no answer, and but for the thread of smoke that curled lazily
from the mud and stick chimney, the place seemed deserted.
"Hello!" he called again.
A gaunt hound came rushing from the underbrush beyond the house, and
with hair bristling in anger, howled his defiance and threats.
Again the horseman shouted, and this time the cabin door opened
cautiously and a dirty-faced urchin thrust forth a tousled head.
"Where's your father?"
The head was withdrawn, and a moment later put forth again.
"He's done gone ter th' corners."
"Well, can you tell me the way to Simpson's? I don't know how to get
out of this infernal hole."
Again the head disappeared for a few seconds, and then the door was
thrown wide open and a slovenly woman, with a snuff stick in one corner
of her mouth, came out, followed by four children. The youngest three
clung to her skirts and stared, with fearful eyes, at the man on the
horse, while he of the tousled head threw stones at the dog and
commanded him, in a shrill voice, to "shet up, dad burn ye Kinney,
shet up. He's all right."
"Wanter go ter Simpson's at the corners, do ye?" said the woman.
"Wal, yer right smart offen yer road."
"I know that," replied the stranger, impatiently; "I've been hunting
turkeys and lost my way.
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