love away from no fair maid. And you,
Mistress Jasper Tipton, you'll have many a long year for to ruminate
such things through your own troubled mind."

* * * * *

Some shake their heads sympathetically, finger to brow, when they speak
of Widow Ashby's Sabrina living alone in her ramshackle house far up at
the head of Crockett's Hollow. "A forsaken girl that holds grudge and
works conjure comes to be a sorry, sorry woman," they say.

Should you pass along that lonely creek and venture to call a cheery
"Hallo!" only a weird, cackling laugh, a harsh "Begone" will echo in
answer.

THE SILVER TOMAHAWK

In Carter County, Kentucky, there is a legend which had its beginning
long ago when Indian princesses roamed the Blue Ridge, and pioneers'
hopes were high of finding a lost silver mine said to be in caves close
by.

Morg Tompert loved to tell the story. As long as he lived the old fellow
could be found on a warm spring day sitting in the doorway of his little
shack nearly hidden by a clump of dogwoods. A shack of rough planks that
clung tenaciously to the mountain side facing Saltpeter, or as it was
sometimes called--Swindle Cave. The former name came from the deposit of
that mineral, the latter from the counterfeiters who carried on their
nefarious trade within the security of the dark cavern.

As he talked, Morg plucked a dogwood blossom that peeped around the
corner of his shack like a gossipy old woman. "See that bloom?" He held
it toward the visitor. "Some say that a Indian princess who was slain by
a jealous chieftain sopped up her heart's blood with it and that's how
come the stains on the tip of the white flower. There have been Indian
princesses right here on this very ground." Morg nodded slowly. "There's
the empty tomb of one--yes, and there's a silver mine way back yonder in
that cave. They were there long before them scalawags were
counterfeiting inside that cave. Did ever you hear of Huraken?" he asked
with childish eagerness. Morg needed no urging. He went on to tell how
this Indian warrior of the Cherokee tribe loved a beautiful Indian
princess named Manuita:

"Men are all alike no matter what their color may be. They want to show
out before the maiden they love best. Huraken did. He roved far away to
find a pretty for her. That is to say a pretty he could give the
chieftain, her father, in exchange for Manuita's hand. He must hav