stake at the black-curled head of her and one by the little, tired,
ragged feet. That was the measure of the front door-sill to the Briars
up there on the hill. Come generations we have fought off the Indians,
we have cleared and tilled the land, and we have gone up to the state
house to name laws and order. In our home we have welcomed traveler,
man and beast, and come sun-up each day we have worshipped at the
altar of the living God--but we've never sold one of our women yet!
The child of that English girl never leaves my arms except to go into
those of a man she loves and wants. Yes, I'm old and I've got still
older to look out for, but I can strike the trail again to-morrow,
jest so I carry the honor of my women folks along with me. We may fall
on the march, but, Rose Mary, you are a Harpeth Valley woman, and not
for sale!"




CHAPTER IX

THE EXODUS


"Well, it just amounts to the whole of Sweetbriar a-rising up and
declaring of a war on Gid Newsome, and I for one want to march in the
front ranks and tote a blunderbuss what I couldn't hit nothing smaller
than a barn door with if I waster try," exclaimed Mrs. Rucker as she
waited at the store for a package Mr. Crabtree was wrapping for her.

"I reckon when the Senator hits Sweetbriar again he'll think he's
stepped into a nest of yellar jackets and it'll be a case of run or