gh-ho for the parson! He smiled contentedly over his vision of the
buxom Widow Brown. Her placid charms would soothe his declining years.
A tempestuous passion would be unbecoming at his age. But the
companionship of this gentle and agreeable woman would be both fitting
and pleasant. Really, Uncle Dick mused, it was time he settled down.
One should be sedate at eighty. But he sighed.

A horseman appeared over the brow of the hill. The horse traveled
slowly, as if wearied by many miles. A single glance at the erect,
soldierly figure made known to Uncle Dick that this was a stranger,
and he watched intently. As the rider came nearer, he hesitated, then
guided his mount toward the clearing. Uncle Dick perceived, of a
sudden, that the left sleeve of the stranger's coat, which was pinned
across the breast, was empty. At the sight, a great sadness fell on
him. He guessed the identity of the horseman. His soul was filled with
mourning over a shattered romance. He fairly winced as the rider drew
rein before him, with a cheery, "Howdy?"

There was a curious constraint in Uncle Dick's voice, as he made
hospitable answer.

"Howdy, yerse'f, Stranger? 'Light, an' come in."

"I hain't time to 'light," the traveler declared. "Jones is my name.
What mout your'n be?"

Uncle Dick descended the steps, regarding the visitor intently. There
was a perceptible aloofness in his manner, though no lack of
courtesy.

"My name passes fer Siddon. I 'low ye hain't familiar round these-hyar
parts?"

"I'm right-smart strange, I reckon," was the admission. "But I was
borned forty-mile south o' here, on the Yadkin. My father owned the
place Daniel Boone lived when he sickened o' this-hyar kentry, kase it
wa'n't wild 'nough. I'm kin ter Boone's woman--Bryant strain--raised
'twixt this-hyar creek an' Air Bellows."

"Wall, say ye so!" Uncle Dick exclaimed, heartily. "Why, I knowed ye
when ye was a boy. You-all's pap used to buy wool, an' my pap tuk me
with 'im to the Boone place with 'is Spring shearin'. Thet makes
we-uns some sort o' kin. Ye'd better 'light an' take a leetle
breathin' spell. A drink o' my ole brandy might cheer ye. An' ye
know," he concluded, with a quick hardening of his tones, "hit's
customary to know a stranger's business up in these-hyar mountings."

The horseman took no offense.

"I rid up to the balcony jest to make inquiry 'bout a friend what I
hain't seed in a right-smart bit, an' who I learnt was a-livin' a
lonely w