The peaceful minded scholar could not grasp the meaning of the message; it was to him an impossible thought; “You must be mistaken, Grant,” he said. “Surely you are excited and unduly alarmed. Wash Gibbs has no reason to attack me.” Young Matt replied gruffly, “I ain’t makin’ no mistake in the woods, Dad. You ain’t in the city now, and there ain’t no one can hear you holler. Don’t think I am scared neither, if that’s what you mean. But there’s ten of them in that bunch, and they’re bad ones. You’d better call Brave, sir. He’ll be some help when it comes to the rush.” But the other persisted, “You must be mistaken, lad. Why should any one wish to harm me? Those men are only out fox hunting, or something like that. If they should be coming here, it is all a mistake; I can easily explain.” “Explain, hell!” ejaculated the mountaineer. “I ask your pardon, Dad; but you don’t know, not being raised in these woods like me. Old man Lewis hadn’t done nothing neither, and he explained, too; only he never got through explainin’. They ain’t got no reason. They’re drunk. You’ve never seen Wash Gibbs drunk, and to-night he’s got his whole gang with him. I don’t know why he’s comin’ after you, but, from what you told me ’bout his stoppin’ here that evenin’, and what I’ve heard lately, I can guess. I know what he’ll do when he gets here, if we don’t stop him. It’ll be all the same to you whether he’s right or wrong.” Brave came trotting into the cabin through the rear door, and lay down in his corner by the fireplace. “That’s mighty funny,” said Young Matt. Then, as he glanced quickly around, “Where’s Pete?” The boy had slipped away while the two men were talking. Stepping outside they called several times; but, save the “Wh-w-h-o—w-h-o-o-o” of an owl in a big tree near the corral, there was no answer. “The boy’s alright, anyway,” said the young man; “nothin’ in the woods ever hurts Pete. He’s safer there than he would be here, and I’m glad he’s gone.” The shepherd did not reply. He seemed not to hear, but stood as though fascinated by the scene. He still could not grasp the truth of the situation, but the beauty of the hour moved him deeply. “What a marvelous, what a wonderful sight!” he said at last in a low tone. “I do not wonder the boy loves to roam the hills a night like this. Look, Grant! See how soft the moonlight falls on that patch of grass this side of the old tree yonder, and how black the shadow is under that bush, like the mouth of a cave, a witch’s cave. I am sure there are ghosts and goblins in there, with fairies and gnomes, and perhaps a dragon or two. And see, lad, how the great hills rise into the sky. How grand, how beautiful the world is! It is good to live, Matt, though life be sometimes hard, still—still it is good to live.”