self. He was honestly convinced
that he was on an errand of great mercy, and the world would be made
better and humanity live more peaceably among themselves, and more godly
by the fulfillment of his plans.

"Not one," he repeated, "not one shall be left to molest the peace of
the innocent ones in this great valley,"--he swept his hand about him
tragically,--"in this wonderful valley."

He sighed again. The gloom of a departing day was gathering about him.
The lonesomeness of a twilight in the valley was making a deep
impression upon his young life and he was beginning to long for
companionship.

The monotony of the hour was broken by the faint sound of a female voice
coming from toward the mountain, calling, "Soo-cow, soo-cow, sook-sook!"
The call came vibrating down through the valley to his listening ears.
Jack Wade's heart gave one joyful bound because a human being, and that
a girl, was near. Nearer and nearer came the call, until through the
gathering darkness could be seen the form of a valley maid. Soon she
hove into full view just up the road. On she came, calling the cow,
until she stood directly opposite Wade.

Apparently she had not before noticed him standing beside the fence.

"Good-evening," said Wade pleasantly. A lovely flush covered her dark
face.

"Howdy?" she replied. Then falteringly, "Seen anything of a old brindle
cow down this away?"

"Yes," said Wade. "She's just yonder in the woodland grazing leisurely.
I'll go fetch her for you."

"Ye needn't be so kind," said the girl. "I kin git her myself. Much
obleeged."

She started on, unmindful of his grateful glance, after the cow.

"I'll go with you, if you don't mind," he said, "and show you where to
find her."

She didn't mind, so Wade bolted, in athletic style, over the fence and
joined her.

Old Peter Judson's daughter was a very beautiful girl. Jack looked into
her face,--he had nothing else to do just now,--and wondered how it was
possible that she could be so pretty. Though born and reared in the
valley, and having known nothing of the outside world, she was fearless
in speech and manner. Her form was indeed very fine for one who had not
the opportunities to gather grace, her voice was musically soft and
sweet, her face was delicately fair. She looked up into Wade's eyes with
an expression of earnestness that was almost an appeal.

"Ye are the newcomer, ain't ye?" she asked, unabashed.

"I've not been here a great many days,"