It was later than usual when the little company breakfasted the next morning. There was no finer cook in all the mountains than Mrs. Bradshaw. A large loaf of light bread and a bag of crullers were a welcome addition to the potatoes Joe had put roasting in the ashes at an early hour, and the bacon, eggs, and coffee served in true camp fashion. As they ate they could hear the melting snow dripping from the rocks. The sun was shining and sent splashes of light into the passageway. They could not be otherwise than merry, although they listened with a shiver to Martin’s account of his experience the previous night. “It seemed as though I slipped miles—that I should never get to the foot of this awful mountain. And I could hear the old sorrel tearing along after me. Every minute I expected he’d land on top and I’d be crushed to a pulp—” “But he didn’t,” Abner chimed in. “The old beastie is sure ’nough game. I’ve seen him slide down into the holler from Red Mountain when it was icy, and he just put his legs together stiff and slipped along as slick as—” “You’d better ride my hoss critter the rest of the way,” Gid offered with true mountain hospitality. “I’ll lead the sorrel home and keep him ’til he’s called fer—thar’s ’nough stable room.” Talitha felt as grateful for this proposal as Abner and Gincy could possibly have done, for she knew the animal would have the best of care and a long rest. Dan Gooch would not be able to come for him until spring opened. Before leaving the cave Miss Howard brought out the coat she had tucked away. The elder Bradshaw examined it closely, while the others watched his face, which wore a mysterious expression. “I’d best pack hit ’long with me,” he said presently. “I might happen on the owner; I reckon he war in haste ter git away or he’d never left sech as this behind in the ol’ still cave. I call hit downright onlucky.” “I never knew before there was a still in these parts,” said Martin. “I thought it was over by Pigg Branch.” “Mebbe you’ll find one thar now if you’ll take the resk of sarchin’ fer hit, but this here one war put out o’ business a cornsiderable spell back.” The man chuckled with such evident amusement that all but Miss Howard and his two sons stared in surprise. “I think you’d better tell them,” urged the former, “it is a very interesting story.” “My mam war sure ’nough peart,” grinned the old man. “Lish Dumley kep’ this still when I war ’bout Joe’s age, and pap and I uster come up and call on him oftener’n war fer our good. Hit made mam mighty sober-sided, but we never paid no ’tention ter anythin’ she said. One day she tuk hit inter her head ter go ter the Gap ter see Lizy Sneed-they war gals tergether—and left pappy and me ter tend the young-uns. “That night this ol’ still war raided and Lish Dumley and his men caught red-handed. Hit’s the last they seen of the mountings fer many a year, ’cept mebbe what they could view through the bars.”