"Ye may have disremembered me, elder, in three years' time," said Sandy, rather sheepishly. "I hain't forgot ye," said the elder, gravely, stepping back a pace and crossing his hands behind his back. "I hain't forgot ye. Been in the Confederate army, I reckon,"--at which remark there was a rustle among the elder's friends and a murmur from the women. "Jes so," said Sandy, not at all disturbed by his cold reception; "an' likewise my friend the major--Major McKinney." "Sir to you," said the major, with a wave of his hand. "We're a-studyin'," said Sandy, "'bout campin' down in this yer valley--" "We're all o' one mind here, Sandy Marsh," exclaimed. Mrs. Long, who had come in from the stable. "We're Union to a man." "That's what we be in Cashiers," snapped one of the neighbors, who was fondling his gun; and then there followed a little movement of boots and rifle-stocks on the floor, which caused the major to get upon his feet with the intention of making an explanation. There was a hostile flash in his eye, however, which Elder Long observed, and stretching out his long arm, he pointed to the major's chair. "Now set down, comrade, do," said the elder, and then, to the others: "These two men are my guests to-night. They'll have the best that the house affords, an' ye'd better be layin' the supper-table, mother. We'll feed them an' their critters, an' welcome, an' when day comes they'll move on. Like mother put hit, we're of one way of thinkin' in Cashiers. No offense, gentlemen, but hit's plumb certain we shouldn't agree." Under the advice of the elder, the men stacked their weapons together, the long rifles with the army guns; and after supper was over the whole party returned to the fire in an amiable and talkative mood, but with a perfect understanding that the two Confederates would move on in the morning. This point having been settled, the travelers were listened to with the interest the stranger always receives in remote settlements where new faces and new ideas seldom come; and the men of the valley, who had been sullen and suspicious before they had broken bread, now laughed at the droll adventures of the major and vied with him in story-telling on their own account. The women had mostly been silent listeners up to the time when Sandy mentioned the light he had seen on the crest of Whiteside Mountain, as they came over Little Terrapin. The major hastened to express a doubt of his companion having seen anything of the kind, which the other as stoutly contended he had seen with his eyes open, and that the light was not lightning or a stray star among the trees, but real fire. "Ye needn't waste time studyin' 'bout that light, Sandy Marsh," said Mrs. Long, throwing the last stick on the fire, which was only a heap of glowing embers. "'T ain't worth the candle, since everybody in Cashiers knows that mountain is harnted."