her rebuff. The sun
rose and the light leaped from every wet blade of grass and bursting
leaf to meet it--leaped as though flashing back gladness that the
spring was come. For a little while Chad forgot his hunger and forgot
his foot--like the leaf and grass-blade his stout heart answered with
gladness, too, and he trudged on.

Meanwhile, far behind him, an old carriage rolled out of a big yard and
started toward him and toward Lexington. In the driver's seat was an
old gray-haired, gray-bearded negro with knotty hands and a kindly
face; while, on the oval shaped seat behind the lumbering old vehicle,
sat a little darky with his bare legs dangling down. In the carriage
sat a man who might have been a stout squire straight from merry
England, except that there was a little tilt to the brim of his slouch
hat that one never sees except on the head of a Southerner, and in his
strong, but easy, good-natured mouth was a pipe of corn-cob with a long
cane stem. The horses that drew him were a handsome pair of half
thoroughbreds, and the old driver, with his eyes half closed, looked as
though, even that early in the morning, he were dozing. An hour later,
the pike ran through an old wooden-covered bridge, to one side of which
a road led down to the water, and the old negro turned the carriage to
the creek to let his horses drink. The carriage stood still in the
middle of the stream and presently the old driver turned his head:
"Mars Cal!" he called in a low voice. The Major raised his head. The
old negro was pointing with his whip ahead and the Major saw something
sitting on the stone fence, some twenty yards beyond, which stirred him
sharply from his mood of contemplation.

"Shades of Dan'l Boone!" he said, softly. It was a miniature
pioneer--the little still figure watching him solemnly and silently.
Across the boy's lap lay a long rifle--the Major could see that it had
a flintlock--and on his tangled hair was a coonskin cap--the scalp
above his steady dark eyes and the tail hanging down the lad's neck.
And on his feet were--moccasins! The carriage moved out of the stream
and the old driver got down to hook the check-reins over the shining
bit of metal that curved back over the little saddles to which the
boy's eyes had swiftly strayed. Then they came back to the Major.

"Howdye!" said Chad.

"Good-mornin', little man," said the Major pleasantly, and Chad knew
straightway that he had found a friend. But there was silence.