Red Banks on the Ohio River, or at aney other place that he
or his shall salt beef on the banks of said river, and aney time in the
ensuing fawl before this fawl's hunting is over.' There now, my dear!
That would seem to prove that there were plenty of buffalo hereabouts
not long ago. A hundred dollars in English gold must have bought a
large amount of wild meat. If this meant Virginia pounds it was still a
great deal. And the hunter who drew this note must have known how he was
going to pay it."

"Rachel Robards says there were lots of buffalo when she came," said
Miss Penelope, who was gradually recovering from the shock of tasting
the coffee, and now prudently thought best to say no more about the
matter. "I always call her Rachel Robards, because I knew her so well by
that name. I am not a-disputing her marriage with General Jackson. If
she wasn't married to him when she first thought she was, she is now,
hard and fast enough. I have got nothing to say about that one way or
another. As a single woman, it don't become me to be a-talking about
such matters. But married or not married, I have always stood up for
Rachel Robards. Lewis Robards would have picked a fuss with the Angel
Gabriel, let alone a fire-eater like Andrew Jackson. Give the devil his
due. But all the same, if Andrew Jackson does try to chastise Peter
Cartwright for what he said last night, there's a-going to be trouble.
Now mark my word! I know as well, and better than any of you, that Peter
is only a boy. Many's the time that I've seen his mother take off her
slipper and turn him across her lap. And she never hit him a lick amiss,
either. But that's neither here nor there. His being young don't keep me
from seeing that he has surely got the Gift. It don't make any
difference that he hasn't cut his wisdom teeth, as they say. What if he
hasn't?" demanded Miss Penelope, with the most singular contrast between
her mild tone and her fierce words. "What has the cutting of wisdom
teeth got to do with preaching, when the preacher has been given the
Gift!"

So speaking, she suddenly started up from the table with an exclamation
of surprise, and ran to the open door.

"Peter! Oh, Peter Cartwright!" she called. "Wait--stop a minute. To
think of your going by right at the very minute that we were a-talking
about you!"

She went out under the trees where the square-built, stern-faced,
swarthy young preacher had brought his horse to a standstill.

"Now, Pet