of vegetable-ground near, no stable, improvised of corn-shocks, for the
shelter of cow or pig, and the habitation seemed not only to be
untenanted, but to have been forsaken years before.

Yet a thin, cautious thread of smoke stole above the rocks, and just as
the starless dusk began to deepen into night, a step was heard, slowly
climbing upward through the rustling leaves and snapping sticks of the
forest. A woman's figure, wearily scaling the hill under a load which
almost concealed the upper part of her body, for it consisted of a huge
wallet, a rattling collection of articles tied in a blanket, and two or
three bundles slung over her shoulders with a rope. When at last,
panting from the strain, she stood beside the cabin, she shook herself,
and the articles, with the exception of the wallet, tumbled to the
ground. The latter she set down carefully, thrust her arm into one of
the ends and drew forth a heavy jug, which she raised to her mouth. The
wind was rising, but its voice among the trees was dull and muffled; now
and then a flake of snow dropped out of the gloom, as if some cowardly,
insulting creature of the air were spitting at the world under cover of
the night.

"It's likely to be a good night," the woman muttered, "and he'll be on
the way by this time. I must put things to rights."

She entered the cabin by a narrow door in the southern end. Her first
care was to rekindle the smouldering fire from a store of boughs and dry
brushwood piled in one corner. When a little flame leaped up from the
ashes, it revealed an interior bare and dismal enough, yet very cheery
in contrast with the threatening weather outside. The walls were naked
logs and rock, the floor of irregular flat stones, and no furniture
remained except some part of a cupboard or dresser, near the chimney.