movement.  Suddenly he sprang to the rock again, and facing the imaginary beast, cried in childish imitation of a man’s deep voice, “Get out of the way.  This here’s my fight.”  Then in his own tones, “It was sure scared when Young Matt jumped on the rock.  Everything’s scared of Matt when he talks like that.  It was mad, too, ’cause Matt he wouldn’t let it get Ollie.  And it got ready to jump at Matt, and Matt he got ready for a tussle, and Ollie he got out of the way.  And all the moonlight things stopped dancin’, and the shadow things come out to see the fight.”  He had lowered his voice again almost to a whisper.  Sammy was breathless.  “Bang!” cried the lad, clapping his hands and shouting the words; “Bang!  Bang!  God, he fired and all the guns in the hills went off, and that panther it just doubled up and died.  It would sure got Ollie, though, if Matt hadn’t a jumped on the rock when he did.  But do you reckon it could o’ got Matt, if God hadn’t been here that night?”

It was all too clearly portrayed to be mistaken.  “Sammy needn’t be afeared,” continued Pete, seeing the look on the girl’s face.  “It can’t come back no more.  It just naturally can’t, you know, Sammy; ’cause God he killed it plumb dead.  And Pete dragged it way over on yon side of the ridge and the buzzards got it.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

Jim Lane makes A promise.

Sammy went home to find her father getting supper.  Rushing into the cabin, the girl gave him a hug that caused Jim to nearly drop the coffee pot.  “You poor abused Daddy, to come home from work, all tired and find no supper, no girl, no nothing.  Sit right down there, now, and rest, while I finish things.”

Jim obeyed with a grin of appreciation.  “I didn’t fix no taters; thought you wasn’t comin’.”

“Going to starve yourself, were you? just because I was gone,” replied the girl with a pan of potatoes in her hand.  “I see right now that I will have to take care of you always—­always, Daddy Jim.”

The smile suddenly left the man’s face.  “Where’s Ollie Stewart?  Didn’t he come home with you?”

“Ollie’s at home, I suppose.  I have been up to the Lookout talking to Pete.”

“Ain’t Ollie goin’ back to the city to-morrow?”

“No, not to-morrow; the next day.  He’s coming over here to-morrow afternoon.  Then he’s going away.”  Then, before Jim could ask another question, she held up the half of a ham; “Daddy, Daddy!  How many times have I told you that you must not—­you must not slice the ham with your pocket knife?  Just look there!  What would Aunt Mollie say if she saw that, so haggled and one sided?”

All during the evening meal, the girl kept up a ceaseless merry chatter, changing the subject abruptly every time it approached the question that her father was most anxious to ask.  And the man delighted with her gay mood responded to it, as he answered to all her moods, until they were like two school children in their fun.  But, when supper was over and the work done, and Jim, taking down his violin, would have made music, Sammy promptly relieved him of his instrument, and seated herself on his knee.  “Not to-night, Daddy.  I want to talk to-night, real serious.”