"Hit is dangerous," pronounced Uncle Lot. "There hain't no known way to keep liquor out of sech a crowd; and there never is a gethering without drinking and shooting. And if the two sides was to meet there, hit's untelling where the trouble would end." "We think that we're making things safe," said Amy. "But still, it would be best to have a man of your opinions and influence present." "Well, I'll study on hit." "Women," said Aunt Ailsie, "what is a 'Fourth-of-July'?" "It's the day our nation was founded, a hundred and twenty-four years ago." "The time we fit out the British, hain't it?" inquired Uncle Lot. "Yes." As Amy and Virginia started down the rocky, winding branch,--for they had to leave early to help with the work on the hill,--Uncle Lot turned to Aunt Ailsie and said, weightily: "Them women may be quare and furrin and fotched-on, but, in my opinion, they hain't runaway wives. And, in my jedgment, if Solomon was here, he would allow they hain't _strange_ women, neither." III THE FOURTH OF JULY On Tuesday noon, Uncle Lot announced to Aunt Ailsie that he would go to the quare women's Fourth-of-July picnic the following day, and would take her along. "Hit appears to be my duty, as a law-loving man, like they said, to be thar on the hill in case of trouble, which is nigh-about sartain to come, there not being hardly a gethering in two year, be hit election or court or funeral-meeting or what not, that hain't been shot up, and sometimes broke up, ginerally by Fult and his crowd." "O paw, you allus a-faulting Fulty, and him your own grandchild, and the picter of you when you was young!" "Picter or no picter, I hain't proud of daddying no sech, and don't uphold none of his doings. And if Darcy's crowd is there, too, which hit will be, with all the county a-mustering, then hit's unknowing what the day may bring forth." About eight o'clock Wednesday morning, the two started down the branch--Uncle Lot, a tall, grizzled figure in dark homespun and black slouch hat, leading, on Tom-mule; Aunt Ailsie following on old fat flea-bitten Darb. Profiting by the quare women's example, she had discarded the hot brown-linsey dress in favor of an everyday one of blue cotton; but she still clung to the black sunbonnet and light-print apron--inevitable badges of the respectable married woman. When they arrived at The Forks, the one street was lined with nags,--they could scarcely find two palings to which to tie Tom and Darb,--and a stream of people was zigzagging up the steep hill behind the court house. Uncle Lot went on up, while Aunt Ailsie stopped at the hotel for her daughter, Cynthy Fallon, whom she found in the kitchen frying chicken, while three or four of the girls packed baskets. Cynthy was complaining:-- "Fulty, he allus has so many to feed, jest pine-blank like his paw--all them boys that runs with him, and then a big gang more he's sartain to ax to eat. I allow to feed anyhow fifty."