When Sammy told them that she was not going to the city to live, they cried in answer, “Then you shall be our girl always,” and they took her home with them to the big log house on the ridge. For a week after that night at the Lane cabin, Pete was not seen. When at last, he did appear, it was to the shepherd on the hill, and his voice and manner alarmed Dad. But the boy’s only reply to Mr. Howitt’s question was, “Pete knows; Pete knows.” Then in his own way he told something that sent the shepherd to Young Matt, and the two followed the lad to a spot where the buzzards were flying low through the trees. By the shreds of clothing and the weapons lying near, they knew that the horrid thing, from which as they approached, carrion birds flapped their wings in heavy flight, was all that remained of the giant, Wash Gibbs. Many facts were brought out at the trial of the outlaws and it was made clear that Jim Lane had met his death at the hands of Wash Gibbs, just at the beginning of the attack, and that Gibbs himself had been wounded a moment later by one of the attacking posse. Thus does justice live even in the hills. CHAPTER XXXVI. ANOTHER STRANGER. Mr. Matthews and his son first heard of the stranger through Lou Gordon, the mail carrier, who stopped at the mill on his way to Flag with the week’s mail. The native rode close to the shed, and waited until the saw had shrieked its way through the log of oak, and the carriage had rattled back to first position. Then with the dignity belonging to one of his station, as a government officer, he relieved his overcharged mouth of an astonishing quantity of tobacco, and drawled, “Howdy, men.” “Howdy, Lou,” returned Young Matt from the engine, and Old Matt from the saw. “Reckon them boards is fer a floor in Joe Gardner’s new cabin?” “Yes,” returned Old Matt; “we ought to got ’em out last week, but seems like we couldn’t get at it with the buryin’ an’ all.” “’Pears like you all ’r gettin’ mighty proud in this neighborhood. _Puncheon_ floors _used_ t’ be good enough fer anybody t’ dance on. Be a buildin’ board houses next, I reckon.” Mr. Matthews laughed, “Bring your logs over to Fall Creek when you get ready to build, Lou; we’ll sure do you right.” The representative of the government recharged his mouth. “’Lowed as how I would,” he returned. “I ain’t one o’ this here kind that don’t want t’ see no changes. Gov’ment’s all th’ time makin’ ’provements. Inspector ’lowed last trip we’d sure be a gettin’ mail twice a week at Flag next summer. This here’s sure bound t’ be a big country some day. “Talkin’ ’bout new fangled things, though, men! I seed the blamdest sight las’ night that ever was in these woods, I reckon. I gonies! Hit was a plumb wonder!” Kicking one foot from the wooden stirrup and hitching sideways in the saddle, he prepared for an effort.