n' her rub the roses off her cheeks
tryin' to keep your ornery little soul in your worthless little body,
I'll give you this sentiment to put in your pipe and smoke: John
Barclay, man--if they ever be's a law agin damn fools, the first raid
the officers should make is on the colleges. And now may ye be struck
blind before ye get your education and dumb if it makes a fool of ye."
And so slapping the boy on the back, Jake Dolan went down the street
winding in and out among the brick piles and lumber and mortar boxes,
whistling "Tread on the Tail of me Coat."

For life was all so fine and gay with Lieutenant Dolan in those days.
And he whistled and sang, and thought what he pleased, and said what
he pleased, and did what he pleased, and if the world didn't like it,
the world could picket its horses and get out of Jacob Dolan's livery
barn. For Mr. Dolan was thinking that from the livery-stable to the
office of sheriff is but a step in this land of the free and home of
the brave; so he carried his head back and his chest out and invited
insult in the fond hope of provoking assault. He was the flower of the
times,--effulgent, rather gaudy, and mostly red!

CHAPTER V

Good times came to Sycamore Ridge in the autumn. The dam across the
creek was furnishing power for a flour-mill and a furniture factory.
The endless worm of wagons that was wriggling through the town
carrying movers to the West, was sloughing many of its scales in
Sycamore Ridge. Martin Culpepper had been East with circulars
describing the town and adjacent country. He had brought back three
stage loads of settlers, and was selling lots in Culpepper's addition
faster than they could be surveyed. The Frye blacksmith shop had
become a wagon shop, and then a hardware store was added; the flag
fluttered from the high flagstaff over the Exchange National Bank
building, and all day long farmers were going from the mill to the
bank. General Philemon Ward gave up school-teaching and went back to
his law office; but he was apt to take sides with President Andrew
Johnson too vigorously for his own good, and clients often avoided his
office in fear of an argument. Still he was cheerful, and being only
in his early thirties, looked at the green hills afar from his pasture
and was happy. The Thayer House was filled with guests, and the
Fernalds had money in the bank; Mary Murphy and Gabriel Carnine were
living happily ever after, and Nellie Logan was clerking in D