In her drawling, sweet voice she continued as they proceeded toward the horse-block where they could see Benson and the horses ready. "Ef yo' do, Lem, hit'll smoke all th' sorry outen my heart, an' I'll be glad agin, like 'fore maw an' pap wus kilt--gladness th' kind whut hain't a-carin' ef hit rains, or ef hit suns. Don't be sad, Lem," glancing into his woful, tragic eyes. "Belle-Ann'll be a-prayin' fo' yo'-all. An', Lem, when I cum back, mebby yo'll kiss me heah," she ended with a finger on her puckered, red lips. Buddy and Slab and the dogs were mingling with the restive horses in the sunshine. Benson had already mounted. Forgetful of her precious dress, Belle-Ann dropped on her knees in the dirt beside old Ben and, with her arms around the blind hound's neck, she hugged the old dog to her and kissed his soft ears. Buddy hung on to her with appeals for her early return. Old Slab shuffled around her with a medley of adjurations. She turned in the saddle and called back: "Keep a-watchin' an' a-tryin', Lem--an' yo', Slab--don't yo' fergit whut yo' promised against th' witch." Her voice was unsteady now. Benson was leading the way a few rods ahead. As they looped the spur and headed down the trail toward the cypress cut, Belle-Ann could no longer combat her feelings. Bending low over the saddle horn, she wept inconsolably. At the gap below she looked back. Lem stood up on the horse-block waving to her. Through dim eyes she looked and flourished her wet handkerchief above her head. Far down in the valley, where they struck the faint wagon trail and the horses came out to the ford at Boon Creek, Belle-Ann turned her eager eyes up toward Moon mountain and there, as she had expected, she discerned Lem's outline high up on the apex of Eagle Crown. And as the horses paused in mid-stream to drink, she caught flashes in the sunlight, and she knew that Lem was waving his hat to her, and she knew he was straining his eyes and his heart for her. * * * * * In these troublesome times, gray and somber with woe, the Lutts cabin on Moon mountain was a dismal and cheerless abode. Lem and little Buddy were inconsolable, and the monotonous days following Belle-Ann's departure were sad and long--and very lonely. Slab was tireless in his efforts to keep the boys cheered up. On pleasant nights he would sit on the witch-elm block before the cabin and sing "Kitty Wells." This sacred duty over, he would turn his talent to enlivening negro melodies, interspersed with doubtful tales, well put together, dealing with war times in general, and the wonders of Lexington in particular.