afternoon, would have turned for a second look; such men are
seldom seen.

When they reached the big log house that looks down upon the
Hollow, the boy went at once with his axe to the woodpile, while
the older man busied himself with the milking and other chores
about the barn.

Young Matt had not been chopping long when he heard, coming up the
hill, the sound of a horse's feet on the Old Trail. The horse
stopped at the house and a voice, that stirred the blood in the
young man's veins, called, "Howdy, Aunt Mollie."

Mrs. Matthews appeared in the doorway; by her frank countenance
and kindly look anyone would have known her at a glance as the
boy's mother. "Land sakes, if it ain't Sammy Lane! How are you,
honey?"

"I am alright," answered the voice; "I've come over t' stop with
you to-night; Dad's away again; Mandy Ford staid with me last
night, but she had to go home this evenin'." The big fellow at the
woodpile drove his axe deeper into the log.

"It's about time you was a comin' over," replied the woman in the
doorway; "I was a tellin' the menfolks this mornin' that you
hadn't been nigh the whole blessed week. Mr. Matthews 'lowed maybe
you was sick."

The other returned with a gay laugh, "I was never sick a minute in
my life that anybody ever heard tell. I'm powerful hungry, though.