"Well, well! that does beat all! He’d better ’a’ looked out for hisself." "That’s what I say, an’ he with his ma to look after. He wounded one o’ the officers, an’ it’s bound to go hard with him. You needn’t look so skeered, Armindy"—raising his voice and looking over at the girl, "’Lishy’s safe." "Oh, yes; ’Lishy’s safe. I’m only thinkin’ o’ what might ’a’ happened to him." She laughed loudly, then gathered up her work and rushed into the house. With slow, uncertain steps a man walked along the settlement road through Beaver Cove. His clothes hung loosely from his slightly stooping shoulders; he leaned on a stick. All about him were the joyful influences of spring. The mountains were clothed in palest green, and every stream could boast its share of laurel and rhododendron abloom along its banks. The man drew in deep breaths of the fine air; his eyes wandered lingeringly over scenes familiar, yet long unvisited. Once he stooped and drank from a clear, shallow stream purling along the road, and, drawing his sleeve across his mouth, muttered softly: "Ah, that’s good. I ain’t drunk nothin’ like it in more’n four years." He sat down on a fallen tree rotting on the roadside, to rest a few minutes. A market-wagon, white-covered and drawn by a yoke of sleek oxen, rumbled down the hill. In the driver the wayfarer recognized an old neighbor. "Howdy, Mr. Davis?" Davis stared, then leaped from the wagon. "Why—why—it’s Eph’um Hurd, ain’t it?" "What’s left o’ him," said Ephraim, rising, and shaking hands with his old friend. "Well, you do look used up an’ peaked." "I’ve been sick." "An’ your hair is gray." "It’s the prison life done it." "You’ve been through a good deal, I take it," in a tone of compassion. "I don’t want to think o’ it any more if I can help it!" Ephraim exclaimed. "They didn’t treat me so bad, but—oh, I thought it would take the soul out o’ me!" Davis shook his head sympathetically. Ephraim’s face sank on his breast for a moment. There were some questions he longed, yet dreaded, to ask. At last he plucked up courage. "How—how is mother?" "Purty well." "’Lishy Cole is married, is he?" "Yes; he married more ’n two years ago." Of course he had expected that answer, but it caused his thin, worn face to twitch and contract with pain. He hastily picked up his stick. "I—I’d better be gittin’ on." "Your ma’s moved down to the Wood place," his neighbor called after him as he started up the road. "The Woods moved to Fannin County last year, you know." "Is that so?" said Ephraim, but without halting again.