The settlers came to the Matthews mill from far up the creek, crossing and recrossing the little stream; from Iron Spring and from Gardner, beyond Sand Ridge, following faint, twisting bridle paths through the forest; from the other side of Dewey Bald, along the Old Trail; from the Cove and from the Postoffice at the Forks, down the wagon road, through the pinery; and from Wolf Ridge and the head of Indian Creek beyond, climbing the rough mountains.  Even from the river bottoms they came, yellow and shaking with ague, to swap tobacco and yarns, and to watch with never failing interest the crazy old engine, as Young Matt patted, and coaxed, and flattered her into doing his will.

They began coming early that grinding day, two weeks after Mr. Howitt had been installed at the ranch.  But the young engineer was ready, with a good head of steam in the old patched boiler, and the smoke was rising from the rusty stack, in a long, twisting line, above the motionless tree tops.

It was a great day for Young Matt; great because he knew that Sammy Lane would be coming to mill; he would see her and talk with her; perhaps if he were quick enough, he might even lift her from the brown pony.

It was a great day, too, because Ollie Stewart would be saying good-by, and before to-morrow would be on his way out of the hills.  Not that it mattered whether Ollie went or not.  It was settled that Sammy was going to marry young Stewart; that was what mattered.  And Young Matt had given her up.  And, as he had told his father in the barn that day, it was alright.  But still—­still it was a great day, because Ollie would be saying good-by.

It was a great day in Young Matt’s life, too, because on that day he would issue his challenge to the acknowledged champion of the country-side, Wash Gibbs.  But Young Matt did not know this until afterwards, for it all came about in a very unexpected way.

The company had been discussing the new arrival in the neighborhood, and speculating as to the probable length of Mr. Howitt’s stay at the ranch, and while Young Matt was in the burr-house with his father, they had gone over yet again the familiar incidents of the ghost story; how “Budd Wilson seen her as close as from here t’ th’ shop yonder.”  How “Joe Gardner’s mule had gone plumb hog-wild when he tried to ride past the ol’ ruins near th’ ranch.”  And “how Lem Wheeler, while out hunting that roan steer o’ hisn, had heard a moanin’ an’ a wailin’ under the bluff.”

Upon Young Matthews returning to his engine, the conversation had been skilfully changed, to Ollie Stewart and his remarkable good fortune.  From Ollie and his golden prospects, it was an easy way to Sammy Lane and her coming marriage.

Buck Thompson was just concluding a glowing tribute to the girl’s beauty of face and form when Young Matt reached for an axe lying near the speaker.  Said Buck, “Preachin’ Bill ’lowed t’other day hit didn’t make no difference how much money th’ ol’ man left Ollie he’d be a poor sort of a man anyhow; an’ that there’s a heap better men than him right here in th’ hills that Sammy could a’ had fer th’ askin’.”