stance made us aware that we were coming to a clearing; and on
arriving at the place, we found several maize fields enclosed by hedges,
and a log-house, the smoking chimney of which bespoke the presence of
inhabitants.

The dwelling was pleasantly situated on a gentle slope, roofed with
clapboards, and having stables and other out-houses in its rear, such as
one usually finds in backwood settlements of the more comfortable kind.
Peach-trees were trailed against the house, in front of which stood some
groups of papaws. The whole place had a rural and agreeable aspect.

We were scarcely within the hedge that surrounded the domain, when a
brace of bull-dogs rushed upon us with open jaws. We were keeping off
the furious brutes with some difficulty, when a man came out of the
barn, and, upon seeing us, again entered it. After a few moments, he
appeared for a second time, in company with two negroes, who were
leading by the horns the very same cow which we had so unceremoniously
compelled to become our guide. We greeted the man with a "good-morning;"
but he made no answer, merely gazing hard at us with a cold sullen look.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered, powerful man, with an expressive but
extraordinarily sad, gloomy, and almost repulsive countenance. There was
a restless excitement of manner about him, which struck us at the very
first glance.

"A fine morning," said I, approaching the stranger.

No answer. The man was holding the cow by one horn, and staring at the
tail, from which a drop or two of blood was falling.

"How far is it from here to Hopefield?" asked I.

"Far enough for you never to get there, if it's you who've been drivin'
my cow," was the threatening reply.

"And if we had driven your cow," said I, "you would surely not take it
amiss? It was a mere accident."

"Such accidents don't often happen. People don't shoot cows, if they
haven't a mind to eat other folk's beef."

"You do not suppose," said the Ohioman, "that we should wish to hurt
your cow--we, who have no other intention but to shoot a few turkeys for
the voyage. We are passengers by the Feliciana--one of our paddles is
broken; and that is the reason that our boat is at anchor in front of
Hopefield, and that we are here."

This circumstantial explanation seemed to produce little effect on the
backwoodsman. He made no reply. We walked towards the house, and, on
stepping in, found a woman there, who scarcely looked at us, or seemed
aware o