t the air. "Take it off!" vociferated the bitter town
faction--"take it off!"

A diversion was produced by the refusal of the Colbury champion to
receive the empty honor of the red ribbon and the certificate. Thus
did he except to the ruling of the judges. In high dudgeon he faced
about and left the arena, followed shortly by the decorated Jenks,
bearing the precious saddle and bridle, and going with a wooden face
to receive the congratulations of his friends.

The entries for the slow mule race had been withdrawn at the last
moment; and the spectators, balked of that unique sport, and the fair
being virtually over, were rising from their seats and making their
noisy preparations for departure. Before Jenks had cleared the
fair-building, being somewhat impeded by the moving mass of humanity,
he encountered one of his neighbors, a listless mountaineer, who spoke
on this wise:--

"Does ye know that thar gal o' yourn--that thar Cynthy?"

Mr. Hollis nodded his expressionless head--presumably he did know
Cynthia.

"Waal," continued his leisurely interlocutor, still interrogative,
"does ye know Jacob Brice?"

Ill-starred association of ideas! There was a look of apprehension on
Jenkins Hollis's wooden face.

"They hev done got a license down hyar ter the Court House an' gone
a-kitin' out on the Old B'ar road."

This was explicit.

"Whar's my horse?" exclaimed Jenks, appropriating "John Barleycorn" in
his haste. Great as was his hurry, it was not too imperative to
prevent him from strapping upon the horse the premium saddle, and
inserting in his mouth the new bit and bridle. And in less than ten
minutes a goodly number of recruits from the crowd assembled in
Colbury were also "a-kitin'" out on the road to Old Bear, delighted
with a new excitement, and bent on running down the eloping couple
with no more appreciation of the sentimental phase of the question and
the tender illusions of love's young dream than if Jacob and Cynthia
were two mountain foxes.

Down the red-clay slopes of the outskirts of the town "John
Barleycorn" thunders with a train of horsemen at his heels. Splash
into the clear fair stream whose translucent depths tell of its
birthplace among the mountain springs--how the silver spray showers
about as the pursuers surge through the ford leaving behind them a
foamy wake!--and now they are pressing hard up the steep ascent of the
opposite bank, and galloping furiously along a level stretch of road,