Come.

There was little doubt that the boy was right--that Jack had come on
Whizzer killing the sheep, and had caught him at the edge of the
ravine, where the two had fought, rolling down and settling the old
feud between them in the darkness at the bottom. And up there on the
hill-side, the jury that pronounced Jack guilty pronounced him
innocent, and, as the Turners started joyfully down the hill, the sun
that was to have sunk on Jack stiff in death sank on Jack frisking
before them--home.

And yet another wonder was in store for Chad. A strange horse with a
strange saddle was hitched to the Turner fence; beside it was an old
mare with a boy's saddle, and as Chad came through the gate a familiar
voice called him cheerily by name. On the porch sat Major Buford.

CHAPTER 14.

THE MAJOR IN THE MOUNTAINS

The quivering heat of August was giving way and the golden peace of
autumn was spreading through the land. The breath of mountain woods by
day was as cool as the breath of valleys at night. In the mountains,
boy and girl were leaving school for work in the fields, and from the
Cumberland foothills to the Ohio, boy and girl were leaving happy
holidays for school. Along a rough, rocky road and down a shining
river, now sunk to deep pools with trickling riffles between--for a
drouth was on the land--rode a tall, gaunt man on an old brown mare
that switched with her tail now and then at a long-legged, rough-haired
colt stumbling awkwardly behind. Where the road turned from the river
and up the mountain, the man did a peculiar thing, for there, in that
lonely wilderness, he stopped, dismounted, tied the reins to an
overhanging branch and, leaving mare and colt behind, strode up the
mountain, on and on, disappearing over the top. Half an hour later, a
sturdy youth hove in sight, trudging along the same road with his cap
in his hand, a long rifle over one shoulder and a dog trotting at his
heels. Now and then the boy would look back and scold the dog and the
dog would drop his muzzle with shame, until the boy stooped to pat him
on the head, when he would leap frisking before him, until another
affectionate scolding was due. The old mare turned her head when she
heard them coming, and nickered. Without a moment's hesitation the lad
untied her, mounted and rode up the mountain. For two days the man and
the boy had been "riding and tying," as this way of travel for two men
and one horse is still known in the hills, and