no real intentions of doin' as we thought he
would!" The man was tremulous with wrath. "Oh, I'll be even with him!"

Barbara was greatly worried by the situation. All her life, despite the
fact that she was beautiful, despite the fact that her father was a rich
man--richer, by a dozen times, than many of the people for whose
friendship she longed vainly--she had vaguely felt that there was an
invisible gulf between her and the girls with whom she came in contact
at the exclusive schools to which she had been sent, between her and
the gentlefolk with whom, in some measure, she had mixed since she had
left school-walls. "Father," she asked anxiously, "why do people look
down on us so?"

He faced her with a worried look, as if he feared that she might guess
at something which he wished should remain hidden. "They say I made my
money tradin' in niggers," he replied, at length. "Well, what of it?
Didn't I have the right?"

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

He seemed definitely startled. "Girl, what makes you ask?"

"Because sometimes memories come to me."

"Memories of what?"

"Of--my childhood," she said slowly, "of passes among
mountains--mountains much like these."

He regarded her uneasily. "Oh, sho, gal!" he exclaimed, trying to make
light of it. "Reckon you've been dreamin'. You were never hyar before."

But she looked about her, unconvinced, and, when she spoke, spoke
slowly, evidently trying to recall with definite clarity certain things
which flitted through her mind as vague impressions only. "Why does
everything seem so familiar, here, then, as if I had just wakened in my
true surroundings after a long sleep in which I had had dreams?" There
was, suddenly, a definite accusation in her eyes. "Father, you are
trying to deceive me! I was once a child, here in these very
mountains!" She stared about intently.

The speech had an amazing effect on the old man. He stepped close to
her. "Hush!" said he, imperatively. "Don't you dare speak such a word
ag'in!"

She peered into his eyes. "There _is_ a secret, then! We lived here,
long ago!"

"Stop, I tell you!" he commanded. "Don't hint at such things, for your
life." He dropped his voice to hoarse whisper. "Suppose I did live hyar,
once. I was a smooth-faced youngster, then; my own mother wouldn't know
me, now."

The sound of voices coming up the mountain-trail interrupted the
dramatic scene.

"Sh!" said he. "They're comin'!"

Frank was piloting hi