those who dwelt therein. He would have been a little happier if he could
have remained there, undisturbed, for a time longer.

Day had not dawned when Madge awoke. The sun, indeed, had just begun to
poke the red edge of his disc above Mount Nebo, when, having built her
fire and cooked her frugal breakfast, she loosed the rope which held the
crude, small draw-bridge up and lowered the rickety old platform until
it gave a pathway over the deep chasm and carried her to the mainland,
ready for the journey to the distant cross-roads store.

Dew, sparkling like cut diamonds, cool as melting ice, was everywhere in
the brilliant freshness of the morning; the birds were busy with their
gossip and their foraging, chattering greetings to her as she passed; in
her pasture her cow, Sukey, had not risen yet from her comfortable night
posture when she reached her. The animal looked up gravely at her,
chewing calmly on her cud, plainly not approving, quite, of such a very
early call. While the girl sat on the one-legged stool beside her,
sending white, rich, fragrant streams into the resounding pail, her
shaggy Little Hawss limped up, nosing at her pocket for a turnip, which
he found, of course, abstracted cleverly and munched.

Having finished with the cow she set the milk in a fence-corner to wait
for her return, and, when she left the lot, the pony followed her,
making a difficult, limping way along the inside of the rough
stump-fence until he came to a cross barrier. Then, as he saw that she
was going on and leaving him behind, he nickered lonesomely, and,
although she planned, that day to accomplish many, many things, and, in
consequence, was greatly pressed for time, she went back to him and
petted him a moment and then found another turnip for him in her pocket.