a stump beneath the morning stars with lowering brows, sunk deep in
harsh, resentful thought, forgetful of the falling dew, the chill of the
keen mountain air, of everything, in fact, save the gnawing apprehension
that the "foreigner," who had invaded this far mountain solitude might,
with his better manners, infinitely better education and divers other
devilish wiles of the low country, snatch from him the prize which he
had grown up longing to possess.

The youthful mountaineer's distress was not without its pathos. He loved
the girl, had loved her since they had been toddling children playing in
the hills together. Never for an instant had his firm devotion to her
wandered to any other of the mountain girls; never for an instant had
he had any hope but that of, some day, winning her. That he recognized
the real superiority of Layson made his worry the more tragic, for it
made it the more hopeless.

A dull resentment thrilled him, not only against this man, but against
the whole tribe of his people, who were, in these uncomfortable days,
invading the rough country which, to that time, had been the undisputed
domain of the mountaineer. He thought with bitterness about the growing
valley towns, which he had sometimes visited on court days when some
mountain man had been haled there to trial for moonshining or for a feud
"killing." He did not understand those lowland people who assumed the
right to dictate to him and his kind as to the lives which they should
lead in their own country, and he hated them instinctively. Vaguely he
felt the greater power which education and a rubbing of their elbows
with the progress of the world had given them and definitely resented
it. Scotch highlander never felt a greater hatred and distrust of
lowland men than does the highlander of the old Cumberlands feel for the
people who have claimed the rich and fertile bottom lands, filled the