ung tourist--he signed W. W. Norcross in Yancy's register--watched
her closely and listened to every word she spoke with an intensity of
interest which led Mrs. Yancy to say, privately:

"'Pears like that young 'lunger' ain't goin' to forgit you if he can help
it."

"What makes you think he's a 'lunger'?"

"Don't haf to think. One look at him is enough."

Thereafter a softer light--the light of pity--shone in the eyes of the
girl. "Poor fellow, he does look kind o' peaked; but this climate will
bring him up to the scratch," she added, with optimistic faith in her
beloved hills.

A moment later the down-coming stage pulled in, loaded to the side-lines,
and everybody on it seemed to know Berea McFarlane. It was hello here and
hello there, and how are ye between, with smacks from the women and open
cries of "pass it around" on the part of the men, till Norcross marveled
at the display.

"She seems a great favorite," he observed to Yancy.

"Who--Berrie? She's the whole works up at Bear Tooth. Good thing she
don't want to go to Congress--she'd lay Jim Worthy on the shelf."

Berea's popularity was not so remarkable as her manner of receiving it.
She took it all as a sort of joke--a good, kindly joke. She shook hands
with her male admirers, and smacked the cheeks of her female friends with
an air of modest deprecation. "Oh, you don't mean it," was one of her
phrases. She enjoyed this display of affection, but it seemed not to
touch her deeply, and her impartial, humorous acceptance of the courtship
of the men was equally charming, though this was due, according to
remark, to the claims of some rancher up the line.

She continued to be the theme of conversation at the dinner-table and yet
remained unembarrassed, and gave back quite as good as she received.

"If I was Cliff," declared one lanky admirer, "I'd be shot if I let you
out of my sight. It ain't safe."

She smiled broadly. "I don't feel scared."

"Oh, _you're_ all right! It's the other feller--like me--that gets
hurt."

"Don't worry, you're old enough and tough enough to turn a steel-jacketed
bullet."

This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Yancy, who was waiting on the table, put in
a word: "I'll board ye free, Berrie, if you'll jest naturally turn up
here regular at meal-time. You do take the fellers' appetites. It's the
only time I make a cent."

To the Eastern man this was all very unrestrained and deeply diverting.
The people seemed to know all about one