at mollified.

"I reckon so," said Jim Bowles. "I 'lowed I'd ast Cunnel Blount here at
the Big House, about that some time. O' course it don't bring Muley
back, but then--"

"No, hit don't," said Sarah Ann, resuming her original position. "And
our little Sim, he just loved that Muley cow, little Sim, he did. Say,
Jim Bowles, do you heah me!"--this with a sudden flirt of the sunbonnet
in an agony of actual fear. "Why, Jim Bowles, do you know that our
little Sim might be a playin', out thah in front of ouah house, on to
that railroad track, at this very minute? S'pose, s'posen--'long comes
that there railroad train? Say, man, whut you standin' there in that
there shade fer? We got to go! We got to git home! Come right along this
minute, er we may be too late."

And so, smitten by this sudden thought, they gathered themselves
together as best they might and started toward the railroad for their
return. Even as they did so there appeared upon the northern horizon a
wreath of smoke rising above the forest. There was the far-off sound of
a whistle, deadened by the heavy intervening vegetation; presently there
puffed into view one of the railroad trains, still new upon this region.
Iconoclastic, modern, strenuous, it wabbled unevenly over the new-laid
rails up to the station house, where it paused for a few moments ere it
resumed its wheezing way to the southward. The two visitors at the Big
House gazed at it open-mouthed for a time, until all at once her former
thought crossed the woman's mind. She turned upon her husband.

"Thar hit goes! Thar hit goes!" she cried. "Right on straight to our
house! Hit kaint miss hit! And little Sim, he's sure to be playin' out
thah on the track. Oh, he's daid right this minute, he shorely is!"

Her speech exercised a certain force upon Jim Bowles. He stepped on the
faster, tripped upon a clod and stumbled, spilling half the milk from
the pail.

"Thah, now," said he. "Thah hit goes agin. Done spilled the melk. Well,
hit's too far back to the house now fer mo'. But, now, mabbe Sim wasn't
playin' on the track."

"Mabbe he wasn't!" said Sarah Ann scornfully. "Why, _o' course_ he was."

"Well, if he was," said Jim Bowles, philosophically, "why, Sar' Ann,
from whut I done notice about this here railroad train, why--it's too
_late_ now."

He might perhaps have pursued this logical line of thought further, had
not there occurred an incident which brought the conversation to a
close. Looki