When his visitor was gone, Mr. Lane came slowly back to the house. Extinguishing the light, he seated himself in the open doorway, and filled his pipe. Sammy caught the odor of tobacco, and a moment later Jim heard a light, quick step on the floor behind him. Then two arms went around his neck; “What is it, Daddy? What is it? Why don’t you drive that man away?” “Did you hear us talkin’?” asked the man, an anxious note in his voice. “I heard you talkin’ to him about pesterin’ me, but after that, you didn’t talk so loud. What is the matter, Daddy, that he could stay and be so thick with you after the things you said? I was sure he’d make you kill him.” Jim laughed softly; “You’re just like your mother, girl. Just like her, with the old blood a backin’ you up.” Then he asked a number of questions about Mr. Howitt, and her visit to the ranch that evening. As Sammy told him of her ambition to fit herself for the place that would be hers, when she married, and repeating the things that Mr. Howitt had told her, explained how the shepherd had promised to help, Jim expressed his satisfaction and delight. “I knowed you was a studyin’ about something, girl,” he said, “but I didn’t say nothin’, ’cause I ’lowed you’d tell me when you got ready.” “I didn’t want to say nothing ’til I was sure, you see,” replied the daughter. “I aimed to tell you as soon as I got home to-night, but Wash Gibbs didn’t give me no chance.” The man held her close “Dad Howitt sure puts the thing just right, Sammy. It’ll be old times come back, when you’re a lady in your own house with all your fine friends around; and you’ll do it, girl; you sure will. Don’t never be afraid to bank on the old blood. It’ll see you through.” Then his voice broke; “You won’t never be learned away from your old Daddy, will you, honey? Will you always stand by Daddy, like you do now? Will you let me and Young Matt slip ’round once in a while, just to look at, you, all so fine?” “Daddy Jim, if you don’t—hush—I’ll—I’ll—” she hid her face on his shoulder. “There, there, honey; I was only funnin’. You’ll always be my Sammy; the only boy I ever had. You just naturally couldn’t be nothin’ else.” Long after his daughter had gone to her room and to her bed, the mountaineer sat in the doorway, looking into the dark. He heard the short bark of a fox in the brush back of the stable; and the wild cry of a catamount from a cliff farther down the mountain was answered by another from the timber below the spring. He saw the great hills heaving their dark forms into the sky, and in his soul he felt the spirit of the wilderness and the mystery of the hour. At last he went into the house to close and bar the door. Away down in Mutton Hollow a dog barked, and high up on Old Dewey near Sammy’s Lookout, a spot of light showed for a moment, then vanished. CHAPTER XV. THE PARTY AT FORD’S.