n the baby things. At
first they are so frightened. They run and hide--they never cry or
scream, and bye and bye they come to meet me; they bring me little
treasures, the darlings! One gave me a tiny chicken just hatched."

But beyond the last cabin that Nancy conquered was a hard, rocky trail
that led, apparently, to the sharp crest called by Uncle Jed Thunder
Peak.

"Does any one live on Thunder Peak?" asked Nancy of Jed.

The old man wrinkled his brow. He had not thought of Becky Adams for
years; at best the woman had been but a landmark, and landmarks had a
habit of disappearing.

"No, there ain't no reason for folks to live on Thunder Peak. It's a
right sorry place for living."

Jed found comfort, now he came to think of it, in knowing that Becky had
departed.

"Whar?" he asked himself, when Nancy, followed by two of her dogs, went
away; "whar dat old Aunt Becky disappeared to?" Then he pulled himself
together and went to deliver the message Nancy had confided to him.

"Tell Aunt Doris I'm going for a long walk and not to worry if I'm not
home for luncheon."

Jed repeated this message over and over aloud. He fumbled it, corrected
it, and then finally gripped it long enough to speak the words
automatically to Doris and Doctor Martin.

"That old fellow," Martin said, looking keenly after him, "is going to
go all to pieces some day like the one-hoss shay. He looks about a
hundred. I wonder how old he is?"

Doris smiled.

"I imagine," she said, "that he is not as old as he looks. He told me
that his grandfather was married in short trousers and never lived to
get in long ones. They begin life so early and just shuffle through it."

"You find that thing in the South more than anywhere else." Martin was
nodding understandingly. "It's like a dream--more like looking at life
than living it. I suppose when they die they wake up and stretch and
have a laugh at what they feared and passed through in their sleep."

"We will all do that, more or less, Davey."

"More or less--yes!" Then suddenly:

"Doris, I think you can plan on three months in New York next winter. My
boy is coming on from the West. I'm going to take my shingle down and
hang his up."

"Really, David? Take yours _down_?" Doris looked dubious.

"Yes. I'll stay around with him, but I'm going to put my shack on the
map right under Blowing Rock. I've brought the plans to show you."

Martin took them from his pocket and sat down beside Doris, a