“Watch me and see!” Dexterously Gincy inserted the short, stout stick crosswise above her head and swung up a long step to safe footing beside her leader. “Why, we’re up, aren’t we?” she said, astonished as her eyes caught a glimpse of the foundation of the bungalow a few yards away. The four pulled themselves up the few remaining feet and dropped down in a weary, silent row on a big, flat stone which commanded a glorious view. Even Lalla’s twinkling eyes had lost their usual expression of mischief, and she sat soberly viewing the scene before her. “Look, Kizzie,” exclaimed Urilla, pointing back to the open bungalow, “Miss Howard’s been to the spring for water, the table’s all set, and I can smell the chicken.” Nancy Jane was up at sunrise the next morning. She and Mallie stole out of bed noiselessly and started for the spring—it was their turn to get water. There had been a heavy dew, but neither girl wore rubbers. “Another fine day,” said Mallie, stepping high. “Just look at the hills! We’re the highest.” The winding footpath near the cliff’s edge gave a magnificent view of the peaks which formed a huge semicircle around Indian Mountain. “I’d almost like to live up here,” said Nancy Jane. “It’s more sightly than back in the hills and so near Bentville.” The two stood near the sagging gate of a yard which had been swept clean as a floor. A few long-legged chickens stepped about gingerly. On the very edge of the cliff stood a low frame house, and near it a corn crib set high to keep out the rats. The path to the spring led through the yard. “The Haggis family live here,” announced Mallie as she held the gate open. “Miss Howard told me about them last night—they’re awfully poor.” A small, fat boy wearing a single loose garment was busily playing in the rain barrel. He had a gourd with which he dipped the water out into a pail, sprinkling himself plentifully meanwhile. In the house breakfast was over, and Mrs. Haggis walked around heavily as though her night’s sleep had failed to rest her. She looked old from sickness and overwork; but the girls knew that look—nearly all the mountain women had it—and judged her to be about forty-five. “Howdy,” she said, beaming at them as they approached the house. “I’m proud ter see ye. I was a-feelin’ jest as down-sperited an’ lonesome when ye druv up yistiddy, an’ all of a suddint the chickens begun ter crow like they knew you’d come. How’s Miss Howard? I think a heap o’ seein’ her every year.” “She’s well,” smiled Nancy Jane, “and coming over to see you to-day. We were all pretty tired last night and went to bed early.” “I hope our cow didn’t keep ye awake; Job found her thar come light this mornin’. I reckon she’s proud you’ve come—like we-uns.”