opening, another whirl and
rattle by overhanging rocks, and the vehicle was swiftly descending.
Bill put his foot on the brake, threw his reins loosely on the necks of
his cattle, and looked leisurely back. The great mountain was slowly and
steadily rising between them and the valley they quitted.

And at that same moment Miss Mayfield had crept from her bed, and, with
a shawl around her pretty little figure, was pressing her eyes against a
blank window of the "Half-way House," and wondering where HE was now.

V.

The "opening" suggested by Bill was not a fortunate one. Possibly views
of business openings in the public-house line taken from the tops of
stage-coaches are not as judicious as those taken from less exalted
levels. Certain it is that the "goodwill" of the "Lone Star House"
promised little more pecuniary value than a conventional blessing. It
was in an older and more thickly settled locality than the "Half-way
House;" indeed, it was but half a mile away from Campville, famous in
'49--a place with a history and a disaster. But young communities are
impatient of settlements that through any accident fail to fulfil the
extravagant promise of their youth, and the wounded hamlet of Campville
had crept into the woods and died. The "Lone Star House" was an attempt
to woo the passing travelers from another point; but its road led to
Campville, and was already touched by its dry-rot. Bill, who honestly
conceived that the infusion of fresh young blood like Jeff's into the
stagnant current would quicken it, had to confess his disappointment.
"I thought ye could put some go into the shanty, Jeff," said Bill, "and
make it lively and invitin'!" But the lack of vitality was not in the
landlord, but in the guests. The regular customers were disappointed,
vacant, hopeless men, who gathered listlessly on the veranda, and talked
vaguely of the past. Their hollow-eyed, feeble impotency affected the
stranger, even as it checked all ambition among themselves. Do what Jeff
might, the habits of the locality were stronger than his individuality;
the dead ghosts of the past Campville held their property by invisible
mortmain.

In the midst of this struggle the "Half-way House" was sold. Spite of
Bill's prediction, the proceeds barely paid Jeff's debts. Aunt Sally
prevented any troublesome consideration of HER future, by applying
a small surplus of profit to the expenses of a journey back to her
relatives in Kentucky. She wrote