“I’ll tell that at the mill.  It will be big news to them.  An’ which way be you goin’, Mister?” said the boy with all the frankness of the hills.

“I’m on my way to the middle part of the state.  I’ve been looking after some land that my people own in the mountains.  Looks like a lonesome road, this.  Will I reach any house soon?”

“Thar’s Ben Trimble’s three miles further on, but take my advice an’ don’t stop thar.  Ben says he ain’t goin’ to be troubled in these war times by visitors, an’ he’s likely to meet you at the door with his double-barreled shotgun.”

“I won’t knock on Ben’s door, so he needn’t take down his double-barreled shotgun.  What’s next beyond Ben’s house?”

“A half mile further on you come to Hungry Creek.  It ain’t much in the middle of summer, but right now it’s full of cold water, ’nough of it to come right up to your hoss’s body.  You go through it keerful.”

“Thank you for your good advice,” said Dick.  “I’ll follow it, too.  Good-bye.”

He waved his gauntleted hand and rode on.  A hundred yards further and he glanced back.  The boy had stopped on the crest of a hill, and was looking at him.  But Dick knew that it was only the natural curiosity of the hills and he renewed his journey without apprehension.

At the appointed time he saw the stout log cabin of Ben Trimble by the roadside with the warm smoke rising from the chimney, but true to his word he gave Ben and his shotgun no trouble, and continued straight ahead over the frozen road until he came to the banks of Hungry Creek.  Here, too, the words of the boy came true.  The water was both deep and cold, and Dick looked at it doubtfully.

He urged his great horse into the stream at last, and it appeared that the creek had risen somewhat since the boy had last seen it.  In the middle the horse was compelled to swim, but it was no task for such a powerful animal, and Dick, holding his feet high, came dry to the shore that he sought.

The road led on through high hills, covered with oak and beech and cedar and pine, all the deciduous trees bare of leaves, their boughs rustling dryly whenever the wind blew.  He saw the smoke of three cabins nestling in snug coves, but it was a full three hours before he met anybody else in the road.  Then he saw two men riding toward him, but he could not tell much about them as they were wrapped in heavy gray shawls, and wore broad brimmed felt hats, pulled well down over their foreheads.

Dick knew that he could not exercise too much caution in this debatable land, and his right hand dropped cautiously to the butt of his pistol in such a manner that it was concealed by his heavy overcoat.  His left hand rested lightly on the reins as he rode forward at an even pace.  But he did not fail to take careful note of the two men who were now examining him in a manner that he did not like.

Dick saw that the strangers openly carried pistols in their belts, which was not of overwhelming significance in such times in such a region, but they did not have the look of mountaineers riding on peaceful business, and he reined his horse to the very edge of the road that he might pass them.