any
other mistress than my dear Aunt 'Lethe for many a long year," he
concluded rather lamely.

The emotion of the ancient darky worried him. It was proof that evidence
of a love affair with Barbara Holton had been plain to every eye, he
thought.

Neb now slid wholly from the chair and dropped upon his knees close by
the youth he loved, grasping his hand and pressing it against his
faithful heart.

"Oh, praise de Lawd, Marse Frank; oh, praise de Lawd!" he cried.

Old Neb slept with an easier heart, that night, than had throbbed in his
old black bosom since the probability that Barbara Holton would be a
member of the party which was to visit his young master in the
mountains, had first begun to worry him. But long after he had found
unconsciousness on the boughs-and-blanket bed which he had fashioned for
himself under Frank's direction, Layson, himself, was wandering beneath
the stars, thinking of the problem that beset him.

He was sorry Barbara was coming to the mountains. Why had his Aunt
'Lethe brought her? What would that dear lady think about Madge Brierly,
wood-nymph, rustic phenomenon? What had Horace Holton been doing in the
mountains, secretly, to have been surprised, discomfited as Neb had said
he was, at sight of the Colonel, Miss 'Lethe and his daughter?

But before he had finished the pipe which he had carried into the crisp
air of the sharp mountain night for company, his thought had left the
Holtons and were seeking (as they almost always were, these days and
nights), his little pupil of the spelling-book, his little burden of the
brush-fire flight. He looked across the mountain-side toward where her
lonely cabin hid in its secluded fastness. There was a late light
to-night ashine from its small window.

"She'll like her," he murmured softly in the night. "She'll _love_ her.
Aunt 'Lethe'll understand!"

And then he wondered just exactly what it was that he felt so very
certain his Aunt 'Lethe would be sure to understand. He did not
understand, himself, precisely what had happened to him, his life-plans,
heart-longings.

Strolling there beneath the stars he gave no thought to poor Joe Lorey,
until, like a night-shadow, the moonshiner stalked along the trail and
passed him. Layson called to him good-naturedly, but the mountaineer
gave him no heed. Frank stood, gazing after him in the soft darkness, in
amazement. Then a quick, suspicious thrill shot through him. The man was
bound up the steep tr