e you carry yours, Frale?" Again they all laughed,
and the big youth smiled such a sweet, infantile smile, as he looked
down on his little brother, that David's heart warmed toward him.

He tousled the boy's hair as he passed and drew him along to the chimney
side, away from the doctor. "Hit's a right good hade I'm thinkin' ef hit
be set too fer round. They is a heap in hit, too, more'n they is in
mine, I reckon."

"He's gettin' too big to set that-a-way on your knee, Frale. Ye make a
baby of him," said the mother. The child made an effort to slip down,
but Frale's arm closed more tightly about him, and he nestled back
contentedly.

So the evening passed, and Thryng retired early to the bed in the loom
shed. He knew something serious was amiss, but of what nature he could
not conjecture, unless it were that Frale had been making illicit
whiskey. Whatever it was, he chose to manifest no curiosity.

In the morning he saw nothing of the young man, and as a warm rain was
steadily falling, he was glad to get the use of the horse, and rode away
happily in the rain, with food provided for both himself and the beast
sufficient for the day slung in a sack behind him.

"Reckon ye'll come back hyar this evenin'?" queried the old mother, as
he adjusted her bandages before leaving.

"I'll see how the cabin feels after I have had a fire in the chimney all
day."

As he left, he paused by Cassandra's side. She was standing by the spout
of running water waiting for her pail to fill. "If it happens that you
need me for--anything at all, send Hoyle, and I'll come immediately.
Will you?"

She lifted her eyes to his gratefully. "Thank you," was all she said,
but his look impelled more. "You are right kind," she added.

Hardly satisfied, he departed, but turned in his saddle to glance back
at her. She was swaying sidewise with the weight of the full pail,
straining one slender arm as she bore it into the house. Who did all the
work there, he wondered. That great youth ought to relieve her of such
tasks. Where was he? Little did he dream that the eyes of the great
youth were at that moment fixed darkly upon him from the small pane of
glass set in under the cabin roof, which lighted Frale's garret room.

David stabled the horse in the log shed built by Doctor Hoyle for his
own beast,--for what is life in the mountains without a horse,--then
lingered awhile in his doorway looking out over the billows of ranges
seen dimly through the