"What's the matter, Frale? What you all dressed up for? This isn't Sunday, Frale. Is they going to be a circus, Frale, is they?" She poured forth her questions rapidly, as she hopped from one foot to the other. "Will you take me, Frale, if it's a circus? I'll ask mamma. I want to see the el'phant." "'Tain't no circus," he replied grimly. "What's the matter, Frale? Don't you like your fried cakes? Then why don't you eat them? What you wrapping them up for? You ought to say thank you, when I bring you nice cakes 'at I went an' stole for you," she remonstrated severely. His throat worked convulsively as he stood, now looking at the child, now watching the street. Suddenly he lifted her in his arms and buried his face in her gingham apron. "I had a little sister oncet, only she's growed up now, an' she hain't my little sister any more." He kissed her brown cheek tenderly, even as David had done, and set her gently down on her two stubby feet. "You run in an' tell yer maw thank you, fer me, will ye? Mind, now. Listen at me whilst I tell you what to tell yer paw an' maw fer me. Say, 'Frale seen a houn' dog on his scent, an' he's gone home to git shet of him.'" "Where's the 'houn' dog,' Frale?" She gazed fearfully about. "He's gone now. He won't bite--not you, he won't." "Oh, Frale! I wish it was a circus." "Yas," drawled the young man, with a sullen smile curling his lips, "may be hit be a sort of a circus. Kin ye remember what I tol' you to tell yer paw?" "You--you seen a houn' dog on--on a cent--how could he be on a cent?" "Say, 'Frale seen a houn' dog on his scent, an' he's gone home to git shet of him.'" "Frale seen a houn' dog on--on a--a cent, an'--an'--an' he's gone home to--to get shet of him. What's 'get shet of him,' Frale?" "Nevah mind, honey; yer paw'll know. Run in an' tell him 'fore you forgit hit. Good-by." She danced gayly off toward the house, but turned to call back at him, as he stood watching her. "Are you going to hit the 'houn'' dog with the pretty ball, Frale?" "I reckon." He laughed and strode off toward the one small station in the opposite direction from the way the man had taken. Frale knew well where he had gone. On the outskirts of the village was a small grove of sycamore and gum trees, by a little stream, where it was the custom for the mountain people to camp with their canvas-covered wagons. There they would build their fires on a charred place between stones, and heat their coffee. There they would feed their oxen or mule team, tied to the rear wheels of their wagons, with corn thrown on the ground before them. At nightfall they would crawl under the canvas cover and sleep on the corn fodder within.