The teasing light vanished as the young woman placed her hands on the powerful shoulders of the giant, and as she felt the play of the swelling muscles that swung her to the ground so easily, her face flushed with admiration. For the fraction of a minute she stood facing him, her hands still on his arms, her lips parted as if to speak; then she turned quickly away, and without a word walked toward the house, while the boy, pretending to busy himself with the pony’s bridle, watched her as she went. When the girl was gone, the big fellow led the horse away to the stable, where he crossed his arms upon the saddle and hid his face from the light. Mr. Matthews coming quietly to the door a few minutes later saw the boy standing there, and the rugged face of the big mountaineer softened at the sight. Quietly he withdrew to the other side of the barn, to return later when the saddle and bridle had been removed, and the young man stood stroking the pony, as the little horse munched his generous feed of corn. The elder man laid his hand on the broad shoulder of the lad so like him, and looked full into the clear eyes. “Is it alright, son?” he asked gruffly; and the boy answered, as he returned his father’s look, “It’s alright, Dad.” “Then let’s go to the house; Mother called supper some time ago.” Just as the little company were seating themselves at the table, the dog in the yard barked loudly. Young Matt went to the door. The stranger, whom Jed had met on the Old Trail, stood at the gate. CHAPTER III. THE VOICE FROM OUT THE MISTS. While Young Matt was gone to the corral in the valley to see that the sheep were safely folded for the night, and the two women were busy in the house with their after-supper work, Mr. Matthews and his guest sat on the front porch. “My name is Howitt, Daniel Howitt,” the man said in answer to the host’s question. But, as he spoke, there was in his manner a touch of embarrassment, and he continued quickly as if to prevent further question, “You have two remarkable children, sir; that boy is the finest specimen of manhood I have ever seen, and the girl is remarkable—remarkable, sir. You will pardon me, I am sure, but I am an enthusiastic lover of my kind, and I certainly have never seen such a pair.” The grim face of the elder Matthews showed both pleasure and amusement. “You’re mistaken, Mister; the boy’s mine alright, an’ he’s all that you say, an’ more, I reckon. I doubt if there’s a man in the hills can match him to-day; not excepting Wash Gibbs; an’ he’s a mighty good boy, too. But the girl is a daughter of a neighbor, and no kin at all.” “Indeed!” exclaimed the other, “you have only one child then?” The amused smile left the face of the old mountaineer, as he answered slowly, “There was six boys, sir; this one, Grant, is the youngest. The others lie over there.” He pointed with his pipe to where a clump of pines, not far from the house, showed dark and tall, against the last red glow in the sky.