in the world," she said musingly, "where things are so different
from up in your mountains, you may change. It may be you won't want to
go back, to the hills--to Plutina."

A flush of wrath burned in Zeke's cheeks, visible in the gloom.

"Hit ain't fittin' fer you-all to say no such thing, Miss Blaise. But
I kin fergive ye, kase ye hain't seen our mountings. They hain't no
other place more beautiful. Mister Sutton done told me so, an' he's
been all over the hull world. An', besides, hit's home. A man what
don't love his home country better'n any other--why, mum, he's jest a
plain skunk.... An' Plutiny, she's the best part o' home. There
hain't no land so beautiful, nor no woman. No, mum, I sha'n't
change--never! I kain't!"

And Josephine knew that it was so, and once again she sighed.

CHAPTER XI

Uncle Dick, as he was universally known in the mountains, had
celebrated his eightieth birthday before his granddaughters, Plutina
and Alvira, by leaping high in the air, and knocking his heels
together three times before returning to the ground. There was, in
fact, no evidence of decrepitude anywhere about him. The thatch of
coal-black hair was only moderately streaked with gray, and it
streamed in profuse ringlets to his shoulders. His black eyes were
still keen; the leathery face, with its imperious features, was ruddy.
He carried his six-foot-three of bone and muscle lightly.

As of the body, so of the heart. The springs of feeling in him showed
no signs of drying up. On the contrary, they threatened to gush forth
in a new flood over the Widow Brown, on whose plump prettiness, hardly
dimmed by her three-score years, he looked with appreciative and
ardent eyes. Indeed, his conduct justified the womenfolk of his
household in apprehensions, for witness to the seriousness of the
affair was afforded the morning after the raid on Dan Hodges' still.
He demanded of Alvira that she burn the grease from an old skillet
with great care.

"If they's a mite of hit, hit makes a scum, an' floats off the gold on
hit," he explained.

The sisters regarded each other in consternation, but forebore
questioning. When he had mounted his mare, and ridden away, Plutina
spoke with bitterness:

"I reckon Mis' Higgins done hit the nail on the haid 'bout Gran'pap
an' the Widder Brown."

Alvira nodded.

"Yep. Hit means business, shore, if he's a-gallavantin' over to
Pleasant Valley to pan gold. Hit means he's aimin' to marry her