I won't!" returned Ollie warmly. "Sammy an' me was a
talkin' 'bout that this evenin'. We aim t' always come back t'
Mutton Holler onct a year, an' be just like other folks; don't we,
Sammy?"

The brown pony, stepping on a loose stone, stumbled toward the man
walking by his side. And the big fellow put out his hand quickly
to the little horse's neck. For an instant, the girl's hand rested
on the giant's shoulder, and her face was close to his. Then
Brownie recovered his footing, and Young Matt drew farther away.

Ollie continued; "We aim t' have you come t' th' city after a
while. I'm goin' t' get Uncle Dan t' give you a job in th' shops,
an' you can get out o' these hills an' be somebody like we'uns."

The tone was unmistakably patronizing. The big mountaineer lifted
his head proudly, and turned toward the speaker; but before he
could reply, Sammy broke in eagerly, "Law! but that would sure be
fine, wouldn't it, Matt? I'd know you'd do somethin' big if you
only had the chance. I just know you would. You're so--so kind o'
big every way," she laughed. "It's a plumb shame for you to be
buried alive in these hills."

There was nothing said after this, until, coming to the top of the
ridge, they stopped. From here Ollie and Sammy would take the Old
Trail to the girl's home. Then, with his eyes on the vast sweep of
forest-clad hills and valleys, over which the blue haze was fast
changing to purple in the level rays of the sun, Young Matt spoke.

"I don't guess you'd better figure on that. Some folks are made to
live in the city, and some ain't. I reckon I was built to live in
these hills. I don't somehow feel like I could get along without
them; and besides, I'd always be knockin' against somethin'
there." He laughed grimly, and stretched out his huge arms. "I've
got to have room. Then there's the folks yonder." He turned his
face toward the log house, just showing through the trees. "You
know how it is, me bein' the only one left, and Dad gettin' old.
No, I don't guess you need to count on me bein' more than I am."

Then suddenly he wheeled about and looked from one face to the
other; and there was a faint hint of defiance in his voice, as he
finished; "I got an idea, too, that the backwoods needs men same
as the cities. I don't see how there ever could BE a city even, if
it wasn't for the men what cleared the brush. Somebody's got to
lick Wash Gibbs some day, or there just naturally won't be no
decent livin' in the