ngling unconcernedly over the abysses below, he continued:
"An' Con Hite,--he's agin it, too."

She lifted her head, with a scornful rising flush.

"Con Hite dunno _what_ he wants; _he_ ain't got a ounce o' jedgmint."

"Waal, one thing he _don't_ want is a road. He be 'feared it'll go too
close ter the still, an' the raiders will nose him out somehows. Now
he be all snug in the bresh, an' the revenuers none the wiser."

"An' Con none the wiser, nuther," she flouted. "The raiders hev smoked
out 'sperienced old mountain foxes a heap slyer'n Con be. He ain't
got the gift. He can't hide nuthin'. I kin find out everythin' he
knows by jes' lookin' in his eye."

"That's just 'kase he's fool enough ter set a heap o' store by ye,
Nar'sa. He ain't so easy trapped."

"Fool enough fur ennythin'," she retorted.

"An' then thar 's old Dent Kirby. He 'lows the road will be obligated
ter pass by the witch-face arter it gits over yander nigh ter the
valley, whar the ruver squeezes through the mounting agin. He be
always talkin' 'bout signs an' spells an' sech, an' he 'lows the very
look o' the witch-face kerries bad luck, an' it'll taint all ez goes
for'ard an' back'ard a-nigh it."

"Ben," said the girl in a low voice, "do you-uns b'lieve ef thar war
passin' continual on a sure enough county road that thar cur'ous white
light would kem on the old witch's face in the night-time? Ain't that
a sort'n spell fur the dark an' the lonesomeness ter tarrify a few
quaking dwellers round about? Surely many folks comin' an' goin'
wouldn't see sech. Ghostful things ain't common in a crowd." She moved
a little nearer her brother, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Some folks can't see the witch-face at all, noways," he replied
stolidly. "I hearn the coroner 'low he couldn't."

Narcissa spoke with sudden asperity: "I reckon he hev got sense enough
ter view a light whenst it shines inter his eyes. He 'pears ter be
feeble-minded ginerally, and mought n't be able ter pick out the favor
o' the features on the hillside, but surely he'd blink ef a light war
flickered inter his eyeballs."

The road was her precious scheme, and she steadfastly believed that
with the order of the worshipful Quarterly County Court declaring it
open, with a duly appointed overseer and a gang of assigned work-hands
and the presidial fostering care of a road commissioner, the haggard
old semblance must needs desist from supernatural emblazonment in the
awe-stricken ni