The big fellow went eagerly down the hill to the fence.  “I sure ought to o’ done better’n that, for it’s been long enough since you went by.  I always notice, though, that it gets a heap farther to the other side of the field and back about this time o’ day.  What’s new over to the Forks?”

Sammy laughed, “Couldn’t hear a thing but how the champion strong man was beaten at his own game.  Uncle Ike says, ’Ba thundas!  You tell Young Matt that he’d better come over.  A man what can ride Wash Gibbs a bug huntin’ is too blamed good a man t’ stay at home all th’ time.  We want him t’ tell us how he done it.  Ba thundas!  He’ll be gittin’ a job with th’ gov’ment next.  What!’”

The man crossed his arms on the top rail of the worm fence, and laughed.  It was good to have Sammy deliver her message in just that way.  “I reckon Uncle Ike thinks I ought to go dancin’ all over the hills now, with a chip on my shoulder,” he said.

“I don’t think you’ll do that,” she returned.  “Dad Howitt wouldn’t, would he?  But I must hurry on now, or Daddy’s supper won’t be ready when he comes in.  I stopped to give you these papers for your father.”  She handed him the package.  “And—­and I want to thank you, Matt, for what you did at the mill.  All my life you have been fighting for me, and—­and I have never done anything for you.  I wish I could do something—­something that would show you how—­how I care.”

Her voice faltered.  He was so big and strong, and there was such a look of hopeless love and pain on his rugged face—­a face that was as frank and open as a child’s.  Here was a man who had no need for the shallow cunning of little fox-like men.  This one would go open and bold on his way, and that which he could not take by his strength he would not have.  Had she not seen him in battle?  Had she not seen his eyes like polished steel points?  Deep down in her heart, the woman felt a thrill of triumph that such a man should stand so before her.  She must go quickly.

Young Matt climbed slowly up the hill again to his seat on the stump.  Here he watched until across the Hollow he saw the pony and his rider come out of the timber and move swiftly along the ridge; watched until they faded into a tiny spot, rounded the mountain and disappeared from sight.  Then, lifting his eyes, he looked away beyond the long blue line that marked the distant horizon.  Some day he would watch Sammy ride away and she would go on, and on, and on, beyond that blue line, put of his life forever.

Ollie had gone over there to live, and the shepherd had come from there.  What was that world like, he wondered.  Between the young man of the mountains and that big world yonder there had always been a closely shut door.  He had seen the door open to Ollie, and now Sammy stood on the threshold.  Would it ever open for him?  And, if it did, what?  Then came a thought that made his blood leap.  Might he not force it open?  The shepherd had told him of others who had done so.