good comrades they had always been.

Just after they had crossed Fall Creek at Slick Rock Ford, some
two miles below the mill, Young Matt leaned from his saddle, and
for a little way studied the ground carefully. When he sat erect
again, he remarked, with the air of one who had reached a
conclusion, "Wouldn't wonder but there'll be doin's at Ford's to-
night, sure enough."

"There's sure to be," returned the girl; "everybody'll be there.
Mandy's folks from over on Long Creek are comin', and some from
the mouth of the James. Mandy wanted Daddy to play for 'em, but he
says he can't play for parties no more, and they got that old
fiddlin' Jake from the Flag neighborhood, I guess."

"There'll be somethin' a heap more excitin' than fiddlin' and
dancin', accordin' to my guess," returned Young Matt.

"What do you mean?" asked Sammy.

Her escort pointed to the print of a mule's shoe in the soft soil
of the low bottom land. "That there's Wash Gibbs's dun mule, and
he's headed down the creek for Jennings's still. Wash'll meet a
lot of his gang from over on the river, and like's not they'll go
from there to the party. I wish your dad was goin' to do the
playin' to-night."

It was full dark before they reached the Ford clearing. The faint,
far away sound of a violin, seeming strange and out of place in
the gloomy solitude of the great woods, first told them that other
guests had already arrived. Then as they drew nearer and the tones
of the instrument grew louder, they could hear the rhythmic swing
and beat of heavily shod feet upon the rough board floors, with
the shrill cries of the caller, and the half savage, half pathetic
sing-song of the backwoods dancers, singing, "Missouri Gal."

Reaching the edge of the clearing, they involuntarily checked
their horses, stopping just within the shadow of the timber. Here
the sound of the squeaking fiddle, the shouting caller, the
stamping feet, and the swinging dancers came with full force; and,
through the open door and windows of the log house, they could see
the wheeling, swaying figures of coatless men and calico gowned
women, while the light, streaming out, opened long lanes in the
dusk. About them in the forest's edge, standing in groups under
the trees, were the shadowy forms of saddle horses and mules, tied
by their bridle reins to the lower branches; and nearer to the
cabin, two or three teams, tied to the rail-fence, stood hitched
to big wagons in which were splint-bott