“We’ll meet at Sam’s,” he told me, “round about ’fore good daylight. There’ll be pap an’ my Ben, an’ we’ll take Burl ’cause he’s got a big dog.” Burl was a cousin of Coretta’s, staying at Sam’s and trying, with fluctuating success, to court Len’s oldest girl. “A good hog-hunt,” said Len, “will show ef he’s any account, him an’ that dog o’ hisn.” I managed to reach Sam’s the next morning while the smoky lamp was still burning on the kitchen table. As I approached I heard voices, zestful and happy, but when I appeared in the door there was surprise, then a troubled silence. “You needn’t been afeard I wouldn’t git ’em off early,” said Coretta. “I been up sence three o’clock, an’ Len an’ Ben come at four. We’d done breakfast, an’ was jest chowin’ till light broke.” “I’m not hurrying you. I was only afraid that I wouldn’t be in time myself.” “You’re not going?” all questioned at once, and plunged into talk of the cliffs that I would tumble over, the thickets I couldn’t crawl through, and the “straight-ups” I couldn’t climb. I did not doubt their concern for me, but felt that more was behind their opposition than desire for my safety. In some subterranean way they knew that crafty hints had reached me of their having now and then spirited hogs to neighborly markets, forgetting to share the proceeds with the owner; they knew too, by the same invisible channels, that the tainting insinuations had been indignantly discouraged; yet they suspected me of wanting to keep on their track. After getting up at an heroic hour to prove my full comradeship, it was depressing to run against suspicion, as cold in my confident face as the frosty air of the dawn. But I innocently urged that I was bound for the hunt, that our lives were of equal value, and I would share all risks. After some minutes of talk--genuine even as it veiled the core of discussion--the springs of good humor began to flow, doubt was put to cover, and we were on the road. Serena was with us. She had come with Len to the meet, and I had heard him insisting on her accompanying me. “You won’t have to go fur,” he said. “She’ll turn back ’fore we git to Broke Yoke Gap.” Granpap also was of the party. “He kain’t run,” said Len, “but he’ll he’p us more’n you’d think. He caught a big feller last year all by hisse’f, ’cept what little ol’ Bub could do.” “All right, granpap,” I said, feeling gay and generous as the sun began to warm our mountain, “you can have all you catch to-day. I won’t take any toll from you.” There was no answer--no thanks. Everybody looked straight into the woods, ostensibly concerned with nothing but sighting a hog; and I knew thereby that my words had been taken seriously. II “We ought to git Red Granny to-day,” said Sam, examining the ground where the smoking leaves had been stirred. “Here’s her consarned ol’ broke-toed track. An’ here’s a lot o’ littler tracks. She’s been in an’ tolled out some more o’ our shotes. I bet if we hurried up we’d come right on her.”