and after a time the man cleared his throat in a rasping fashion, as if
the oath had stuck in it.

Ike understood at last. The man was waiting for somebody. And this was
strange, here in the thick fog on the bleak mountainside. But Ike said
to himself that it was no concern of his, and plodded steadily on, till
he reached a dark little log house, above which towered a flaring yellow
hickory tree.

Within, ranged on benches, were homespun-clad mountain children. A
high-shouldered, elderly man sat at a table near the deep fireplace,
where a huge backlog was smouldering. Through the cobwebbed window-panes
the mists looked in.

Ike did not speak as he stood on the threshold, but his greedy glance at
the scholars' books enlightened the pedagogue. "Do you want to come to
school?" he asked.

Then the boy's long-cherished grievance burst forth. "They hev tole me
ez how it air agin the law, bein' ez I lives out'n the _dee_stric'."

The teacher elevated his grizzled eyebrows, and Ike said, "I kem hyar
ter ax ye ef that be a true word. I 'lowed ez mebbe my dad tole me that
word jes' ter hender me, an' keep me at the forge. It riles me powerful
ter hev ter be an ignorunt all my days."

To a stranger, this reflection on his "dad" seemed unbecoming. The
teacher's sympathy ebbed. He looked severely at the boy's pale, anxious
face, as he coldly said that he could teach no pupils who resided
outside his school district, except out of regular school hours, and
with a charge for tuition.

Ike Hooden had no money. He nodded suddenly in farewell, the door
closed, and when the schoolmaster, in returning compassion, opened it
after him, and peered out into the impenetrable mist, the boy was
nowhere to be seen. He had taken his despair by the hand, and together
they went down, down into the depths of Poor Valley.

He stood so sorely in need of a little kindness that he felt grateful
for the friendly aspect of his stepbrother, whom he met just before he
reached the shop.

"'Pears like ye air toler'ble late a-gittin' home, Ike," said Jube. "I
done ye the favior ter feed the critters. I 'lowed ez ye would do ez
much fur me some day. I'll feed 'em agin in the mornin', ef ye'll forge
me three lenks ter my trace-chain ter-night, arter dad hev gone home."

Now this broad-faced, sandy-haired, undersized boy, who was two or three
years younger than Ike, and not strong enough for work at the anvil, was
a great tactician. It was his habit, in