“No, you can't--not with me,” and when he reached around for it and put it on the cantle of his saddle, June thrust her left hand into his overcoat pocket and Hale laughed. “Loretta wouldn't ride with me this way.” “Loretty ain't got much sense,” drawled June complacently. “'Tain't no harm. But don't you tell me! I don't want to hear nothin' 'bout Loretty noway.” Again Hale laughed and June laughed, too. Imp that she was, she was just pretending to be jealous now. She could see the big Pine over his shoulder. “I've knowed that tree since I was a little girl--since I was a baby,” she said, and the tone of her voice was new to Hale. “Sister Sally uster tell me lots about that ole tree.” Hale waited, but she stopped again. “What did she tell you?” “She used to say hit was curious that hit should be 'way up here all alone--that she reckollected it ever since SHE was a baby, and she used to come up here and talk to it, and she said sometimes she could hear it jus' a whisperin' to her when she was down home in the cove.” “What did she say it said?” “She said it was always a-whisperin' 'come--come--come!'” June crooned the words, “an' atter she died, I heerd the folks sayin' as how she riz up in bed with her eyes right wide an' sayin' “I hears it! It's a-whisperin'--I hears it--come--come--come'!” And still Hale kept quiet when she stopped again. “The Red Fox said hit was the sperits, but I knowed when they told me that she was a thinkin' o' that ole tree thar. But I never let on. I reckon that's ONE reason made me come here that day.” They were close to the big tree now and Hale dismounted to fix his girth for the descent. “Well, I'm mighty glad you came, little girl. I might never have seen you.” “That's so,” said June. “I saw the print of your foot in the mud right there.” “Did ye?” “And if I hadn't, I might never have gone down into Lonesome Cove.” June laughed. “You ran from me,” Hale went on. “Yes, I did: an' that's why you follered me.” Hale looked up quickly. Her face was demure, but her eyes danced. She was an aged little thing. “Why did you run?” “I thought yo' fishin' pole was a rifle-gun an' that you was a raider.” Hale laughed--“I see.” “'Member when you let yo' horse drink?” Hale nodded. “Well, I was on a rock above the creek, lookin' down at ye. An' I seed ye catchin' minners an' thought you was goin' up the crick lookin' fer a still.” “Weren't you afraid of me then?” “Huh!” she said contemptuously. “I wasn't afeared of you at all, 'cept fer what you mought find out. You couldn't do no harm to nobody without a gun, and I knowed thar wasn't no still up that crick. I know--I knowed whar it was.” Hale noticed the quick change of tense. “Won't you take me to see it some time?” “No!” she said shortly, and Hale knew he had made a mistake. It was too steep for both to ride now, so he tied the bundle to the cantle with leathern strings and started leading the horse. June pointed to the edge of the cliff.