t the girl, said, "Come, honey;
you're our girl now. As long as you stay in the hills, you shall
stay with us." And Old Matt added, "You're the only daughter we've
got, Sammy; and we want you a heap worse than you know."

When Sammy told them that she was not going to the city to live,
they cried in answer, "Then you shall be our girl always," and
they took her home with them to the big log house on the ridge.

For a week after that night at the Lane cabin, Pete was not seen.
When at last, he did appear, it was to the shepherd on the hill,
and his voice and manner alarmed Dad. But the boy's only reply to
Mr. Howitt's question was, "Pete knows; Pete knows." Then in his
own way he told something that sent the shepherd to Young Matt,
and the two followed the lad to a spot where the buzzards were
flying low through the trees.

By the shreds of clothing and the weapons lying near, they knew
that the horrid thing, from which as they approached, carrion
birds flapped their wings in heavy flight, was all that remained
of the giant, Wash Gibbs.

Many facts were brought out at the trial of the outlaws and it was
made clear that Jim Lane had met his death at the hands of Wash
Gibbs, just at the beginning of the attack, and that Gibbs himself
had been wounded a moment later by one of the attacking posse.

Thus does justice live even in the hills.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

ANOTHER STRANGER.

Mr. Matthews and his son first heard of the stranger through Lou
Gordon, the mail carrier, who stopped at the mill on his way to
Flag with the week's mail.

The native rode close to the shed, and waited until the saw had
shrieked its way through the log of oak, and the carriage had
rattled back to first position. Then with the dignity belonging to
one of his station, as a government officer, he relieved his
overcharged mouth of an astonishing quantity of tobacco, and
drawled, "Howdy, men."

"Howdy, Lou," returned Young Matt from the engine, and Old Matt
from the saw.

"Reckon them boards is fer a floor in Joe Gardner's new cabin?"

"Yes," returned Old Matt; "we ought to got 'em out last week, but
seems like we couldn't get at it with the buryin' an' all."

"'Pears like you all 'r gettin' mighty proud in this
neighborhood. PUNCHEON floors USED t' be good enough fer anybody
t' dance on. Be a buildin' board houses next, I reckon."

Mr. Matthews laughed, "Bring your logs over to Fall Creek when you
get ready to build, Lou; we'll