"All gone," she nodded; "some of 'em killed up in the big feud, and some moved away--mostly to Texas." Presently she added: "That there Bonbright tribe is a curious nation of folks. They're always after great things, and barkin' their shins against rocks in the way. Creed's mammy--she was Judge Gillenwaters's sister, down in Hepzibah--died when he was no bigger'n Little Buck, and his pappy never wedded again. We used to name him and Creed Big 'Fraid and Little 'Fraid; they was always round together, like a man and his shadder. Then the feuds broke out mighty bad, and the Blackshearses got Esher Bonbright one night in a mistake for some of my kin--or so it was thort. Anyhow, the man was dead, and Creed lived with me fer a spell till his uncle down in Hepzibah wanted him to come and learn to be a lawyer." "Lived right here--in this house?" inquired Judith, looking around her, as she rose and turned the riding-skirt. "Lord, yes--why not? You would a-knowed all about it, only your folks never moved in from the Fur Cove neighbourhood till the year Creed went down to the settlement." The girl sank back on the hearth, but continued to gaze about her, and the tell-tale expression in her eyes seemed to afford Nancy Card much quiet amusement. "Do you reckon he'll live with you again when he comes back into the mountains?" she inquired finally. "I reckon he'll be weddin' one of them thar town gals and fetchin' a wife home to his own farm over by yo' house," suggested the inveterate tease. Judith went suddenly white, and then red. "You don't know of anybody--you hain't heard he was promised, have you?" she hesitated. "I ain't hearn that he was, and I ain't hearn that he wasn't," returned Nancy serenely. "The gal that gits Creed Bonbright'll be doin' mighty well; but also she may not find hit right easy for to trap him. I'll promise ef he does come up hyer again I'll speak a good word for you, Jude. The Lord knows I don't see how you make out to live with that thar old man. You'll deserve a crown and a harp o' gold sot with diamonds ef you stan' it much longer." Judith put on the now thoroughly dried riding-skirt, and the two women went outside together. "Well, good-bye, Aunt Nancy," she said, as she led the sorrel nag to the edge of the porch and made ready to mount. "I'll be over and bring the pieces for you to start me out on that Risin' Sun quilt a-Wednesday."