“Jes’ set a-top thar, Rosamondy; set right still an’ stiddy, leetle darter. I hev got a word or two ter pass with these folkses. Howdy! Howdy! Strangers! Do you-uns know whar old man Binwell hev moved ter hyar-abouts? I stopped at his house a piece back, an’ thar warn’t nobody thar, ’pears like; chimbly tore down; nare door in the cabin; empty.” He had a strained rasping voice; his tone was not far from tears. The two boys looked at one another. “Old man Binwell” was Ancient History to them—like Cæsar or Hannibal to boys of wider culture. “Him? he’s dead,” they said together, slowly producing the recollection. “I war ’feared so,” said the stranger. “An’ whar’s ’Liza Binwell, an’ Aleck?” These were more modern. “Waal—her,” said Ike, “I hev hearn tell ez how she merried a man ez kem hyar in the war-times along o’ the Texas Rangers; an’ he seen her then, an’ kem arter her when the fightin’ war over. I disremember his name. An’ he persuaded Aleck an’ his fambly ter move with them ter Texas.” The man nodded his head in melancholy reception of the facts. “They be my brother an’ sister,” he said drearily. “I hain’t hearn nothin’ ’bout’n ’em fur a long time. But when we-uns lef’ cousin Zeke Tynes’s this mornin’—we bided thar las’ night—an’ started fur Tanglefoot Cove, he ’lowed they war hyar yit. I counted on stayin’ with ’em this winter. Who’s a-livin’ hyar-abouts now ez mought be minded ter let us bide with ’em fur ter-night?” The boys prompting each other, mentioned the names of the few families in the cove. The stranger’s face fell as he listened. There was no house nearer than three or four miles, and the gaunt and forlorn old ox was not a beast of unrivaled speed. The man looked up doubtfully at the ragged edges of a black cloud, barely showing above the mountain summits, but definitely in motion before a wind that was beginning to surge in the upper regions of the air, although it hardly swayed the tops of the trees on Keedon Bluffs. The evening had stormy premonitions, despite the exquisite clearness of the western sky. “I’m ’feared I’ll hev ter feed an’ water the beastis, else he won’t hold out so fur,” he half soliloquized, looking at the ox, drowsing between the shafts. Then his attention reverted to the boys. “Thanky, strangers, thanky fur tellin’ me. I dunno ye, ye see, but I war born an’ bred hyar-abouts. Thanky. If thar’s enny favior I kin do fur you-uns lemme know. Fish-in’?” he inquired suddenly. Skimpy colored. To be asked if he were fishing from the great heights of Keedon Bluffs savored of ridicule. “How could we fish from sech a place ez this?” he said a trifle gruffly.