om beyond the wall,
was set in a dull immobility, yet he heard what the elder man was
saying, and listened with the impatience of one whose thoughts are in
travail, and whose interest for abstractions is dead. The preacher
recognized this, but with a resolute effort he continued. "When _you_
war a leetle shaver I seed in yore eyes thet ye hed dreams above
sordidness.... Oft-times when I watched ye gazin' off acrost the most
distant ridges I 'lowed that God hed breathed a wonderful gift inter ye
... ther ability ter dream an' make them dreams come true. I seed thet
ye hed _power_, power thet mout do great good or make yore name a
terror ter mankind, dependin' on which way ye turned hit." An agonized
groan came brokenly from the twisted lips. Bear Cat dropped into a
chair and covered his eyes with trembling palms. He had faced his
enemies without flinching, but after the cumulative forms of torture
through which he had passed to-night, his stoicism threatened to break
under the kind intentions of a talkative friend.

Still the evangelist went on: "I had visions of a new type of mountain
folks--some day ... when boys like you an' gals like Blossom grew
up--and wedded. Folks with all the honesty an' generosity we've got
now--but with ther black hate an' suspicion gone--. Ay--an' ther cause
of hit gone, too,--ther blockade stills."

Turner's nails bit into his temples as if with an effort to hold the
fugitive reason in his bursting head, as the words assaulted his ears.

"I've set hyar afore my fire many's ther night, a-dreamin' of some day
when there'd be a grandchild on my knee ... yore child an' Blossom's
... a baby thet would be trained up right."

Suddenly Turner's silence of apathy broke and he fell to trembling,
while his eyes flared wildly. "In God's name why does ye have ter taunt
me in this hour with reminders of all thet I've lived fer an' lost?
Does ye reckon I kin ever fergit hit?" He broke off, then went on again
with panting vehemence. "I hain't never had no dream but what was jest
a part of _thet_ dream.

"Why I've stood up thar on ther ridges in ther spring when ther face of
God's earth war so beautiful thet I've wondered ef His heaven could be
much better--an' thet's ther sperit of ther hills thet Blossom stood
fer ter me." The shaking voice gathered volume and passion. "I've seed
ther bleak misery of winter strangle all but ther breath of life
hitself outen folks thet lives hyar--an' thet's what this