ith the baby came and dropped it down upon his lap while she
joined in the fun, and it almost seemed that the cabin itself would
break from its moorings in the abandon of rollicking, swaying motion.

When everybody was tired out the banjo player, a young fellow with
deep-set black eyes and the unmistakable look of an artist in embryo,
swung into a monologue accompanied by the banjo, part talk, part
song, describing a fox hunt which was most fascinating and altogether
remarkable.

He called the hounds with "Here Tige," "Here Jack," "Here Spot," "Here
Bob-tail," interspersed with the tooting of a horn, long musical
whistles and the banjo striking soft staccato chords. He mustered the
men, he raced the horses with excited calls of "Git up thar," and gave
clever imitation of fleeing hoofs, "to-bucket, to-bucket, to-bucket,"
in a rapid, low, chanting song. Then the leading hound opened with a
plaintive bay "how!-oo-oo-oo, how!-oo-oo-oo," and one by one the
others joined in with varying notes till it swelled to a weird chorus
of baying hounds which the banjo and the musician's voice made most
realistic. Next the fox was spied and there were cries of "Hello! Ho!
Here he is!" "There he runs," with the banjo thumping like mad! Then
the medley shaded down into a wild, monotonous drumming from the
strings and the voice, which represented most thrillingly the chase at
full height. At last the fox was caught with dogs barking, men
calling, and banjo shrilling a triumphant strain in stirring climax.

Steve followed it all in breathless excitement, and the rest of the
audience received it with boisterous enthusiasm.

After this somebody started the lovely old ballad, "Barbary Allen," in
which all joined; then, "I have a True Love in the Army," and "The
Swapping Song" followed, while "Whistle up your Dogs, Boys, and
Shoulder your Guns," made lively the leave-taking and echoed back from
far down the road.

Then there was a night of tragedy during Steve's visit. The sleepers
of the cabin were suddenly aroused by blood-curdling whoops and yells,
gunshots, racing horses and running men. Everybody was instantly alert
and the family turned out of the cabin en masse. It was thrilling. All
knew well what it meant. The head of the house and older boys joined
the fleeing crowd like dogs in a chase.

"That's Bud Levit's folks and the Cuneys done broke out agin 'bout
that ole fuss, I bet," drawled the wife and mother, when the tumult
had di