Easter's attention was gained at last. For the first time she looked straight at him, and her little smile of derision had given way to a look of mingled curiosity and respect. "I expected only to scare him," said Clayton. The gun will carry twice that far." Hit's jest as well ye didn't hit him," said the old woman. 'Hit air five dollars fine to kill a buzzard around hyeh. I'd never thought that little thing could shoot." "It shoots several times," said Clayton. "Hit does whut?" Like a pistol," he explained, and, rising, he directed several shots in quick succession at a dead tree in the ploughed field. At each shot a puff of dust came almost from the same spot. When he turned, Easter had risen to her feet in astonishment, and the mother was laughing long and loudly. "Don't ye wish ye had a gun like that, Easter? " she cried. Clayton turned quickly to the girl, and began explaining the mechanism of the gun to her, without appearing to notice her embarrassment, for she shrank perceptibly when he spoke to her. "Won't you let me see your gun? " he asked. She brought out the old flint-lock, and handed it to him almost timidly. This is very interesting," he said. " I never saw one like it before." "Thar hain't but one more jest like that in the mountains," said the old woman, " 'n' Easter's got that. My dad made 'em both." "How would you like to trade one for mine, if you have two?" said Clayton to the girl. "I'll give you all my cartridges to boot." The girl looked at her mother with hesitation. Clayton saw that both wondered what he could want with the gun, and he added: "I'd like to have it to take home with me. It would be a great curiosity." "Well," said the mother, "you kin hev one ef ye want hit, and think the trade's fa'r."