ranham's come!" he said. "He's better than the Wild
Dog. I've been trying him on the black horse and, Lord, how he can take
them rings off! Ha, won't I get into them fellows who wouldn't let me
off this morning! Oh, yes, I agreed to bring in a dark horse, and I'll
bring him in all right. That five hundred is in my clothes now. You see
that point yonder? Well, there's a hollow there and bushes all around.
That's where I'm going to dress him. I've got his clothes all right and
a name for him. This thing is a-goin' to come off accordin' to Hoyle,
Ivanhoe, Four-Quarters-of-Beef, and all them mediaeval fellows. Just
watch me!"

I began to get newly interested, for that knight's name I suddenly
recalled. Little Buck, the Wild Dog's brother, had mentioned him, when
we were over in the Kentucky hills, as practising with the Wild Dog--as
being "mighty good, but nowhar 'longside o' Mart." So the Hon. Sam might
have a good substitute, after all, and being a devoted disciple of Sir
Walter, I knew his knight would rival, in splendor, at least, any that
rode with King Arthur in days of old.

The Blight was very quiet at lunch, as was the little sister, and my
effort to be jocose was a lamentable failure. So I gave news.

"The Hon. Sam has a substitute." No curiosity and no question.

"Who--did you say? Why, Dave Branham, a friend of the Wild Dog. Don't
you remember Buck telling us about him?" No answer. "Well, I do--and,
by the way, I saw Buck and one of the big sisters just a while ago. Her
name is Mollie. Dave Branham, you will recall, is her sweetheart. The
other big sister had to stay at home with her mother and little Cindy,
who's sick. Of course, I didn't ask them about Mart--the Wild Dog. They
knew I knew and they wouldn't have liked it. The Wild Dog's around, I
understand, but he won't dare show his face. Every policeman in town is
on the lookout for him." I thought the Blight's face showed a signal of
relief.

"I'm going to play short-stop," I added.

"Oh!" said the Blight, with a smile, but the little sister said with
some scorn:

"You!"

"I'll show you," I said, and I told the Blight about base-ball at the
Gap. We had introduced base-ball into the region and the valley boys
and mountain boys, being swift runners, throwing like a rifle shot from
constant practice with stones, and being hard as nails, caught the game
quickly and with great ease. We beat them all the time at first, but now
they were beginning to bea