“Let Brave speak to them,” whispered Young Matt; and the dog, feeling the restraining hand removed, barked fiercely. Mr. Howitt, following his companion’s whispered instructions, spoke aloud, “What’s the matter, Brave?” A bold knock at the front door caused the dog to redouble his efforts, until his master commanded him to be still. “Who is there?” called the shepherd. “Young Matt’s took powerful bad,” answered a voice; “an’ they want you t’ come up t’ th’ house, an’ doctor him.” A drunken laugh came from the old tree, followed by a smothered oath. The giant at Mr. Howitt’s side growled under his breath, “Oh, I’m sick, am I? There’s them that’ll be a heap sicker before mornin’. Keep on a talkin’, Dad. We’ve got to make all the time we can, so’s Jim can get here.” The shepherd called again, “I do not recognize your voice. You must tell me who you are.” Outside there was a short consultation, followed by a still louder knock; “Open up. Why don’t you open up an’ see who we are?” while from under the tree came a call, “Quit your foolin’ an’ bring him out o’ there, you fellers.” This command was followed by a still more vigorous hammering at the door, and the threats, “Open up ol’ man. Open up, or we’ll sure bust her in.” Mr. Howitt whispered to his companion, “Let me open the door and talk to them, Grant. Surely they will listen to reason.” But the woodsman returned, “Talk to a nest of rattlers! Jim Lane’s the only man that can talk to them now. We’ve got to stand them off as long as we can.” As he spoke he raised his revolver, and was about to fire a shot through the door, when a slight noise at one side of the room attracted his attention. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a face as it was withdrawn from one of the little windows. The noise at the door ceased suddenly, and they heard the two men running to join the group under the tree. “They’ve found you ain’t alone,” whispered the big fellow, springing to the window again. And, as a wild drunken yell came from the visitors, he added, “Seems like they’re some excited about it, too. They’re holdin’ a regular pow-wow. What do you reckon they’re thinkin’? Hope they’ll keep it up ’till Jim—Sh—h—h Here comes another. It’s that ornery Jim Bowles from the mouth of Indian Creek.” The man approached the cabin, but stopped some distance away and called, “Hello, ol’ man!” “Well, what do you want?” answered Mr. Howitt. “Who’s that there feller you got with you?” “A friend.” “Yes! We all ’lowed hit war a friend, an’ we all want t’ see him powerful bad. Can’t he come out an’ play with us, Mister?” Another laugh came from the group under the tree. Young Matt whispered, “Keep him a talkin’, Dad;” and Mr. Howitt called, “He doesn’t feel like playing to-night. Come back to-morrow.”