"Anything honest, to make a living. I'm not going to stay in these parts though." "If you've any notion of goin' down about Columbia, I can direct you to a friend of mine as lives there. Comes up here every summer to fish and hunt. Got lots of coin, and is always wantin' me to go down there and take a regular town spree with him. Oh he's a sight!" "What is his name? I don't suppose he would care anything about me. He never heard of me, anyhow." "Name is Captain Shard; he keeps a big livery stable. You just tell him you're a friend of mine, and I'll bet my steers agin a coon skin you're at home straight." Soon after supper Ralph was shown to his bed in a shed room at the rear of the house. In the mountains the people go to bed and rise early from habit. Before eight o'clock a sound of heavy breathing could be heard from every room. Under the floor the very dogs were steeped in dreams of coon and 'possum hunting. Suddenly Ralph awoke, feeling a pressure on his chest. The room was not so dark but that he could detect a shadowy figure at the bedside. A prickly chill ran through his veins, but before he could speak, a voice whispered: "Give me your hand," and as the boy dazely obeyed, the pressure on his chest was removed as another hand was lifted from there, that firmly grasped his own. "I can feel your pulse jump; you're skeered, Ralph." "Wh--who are--you?" faltered Ralph, unable to make out as yet whether it was a "haant" or a living person that had awakened him thus. "Don't know me?" There was a titter of nearly noiseless laughter. "Felt me pressin' your chist, didn't you?" "Yes. At first I thought I must be stiflin', but--" "If you want to wake a person 'thout speakin', you press on their chist. Hit always fetches 'em. Don't you know me yet?" Ralph murmured a low negative. "Well, then, I'll tell you I'm--" A sound of feet striking the floor heavily was heard from one of the other rooms, and was followed by the voice of Mr. Dopples, calling out: "Tildy! Oh, Tildy! Where be ye, Tildy?" The form at Ralph's bedside grasped his hand again in a warning pressure. "Keep quiet," it said. "I'm your Aunt Tildy. I have something to say to you by and by." The figure vanished, and presently the lad heard his aunt say: "What are you fussin' about, Mr. Dopples? Can't a body stir 'thout you havin' a fit?" "I only wanted to know where ye were," was the shock headed man's reply. "What are ye progin' round this time o' night for?" "Cause I want to. Now shet up and go to sleep." While Ralph was wondering what on earth his aunt, whom he had never seen before, could want to say to him at such an hour, the talking in the other room died away, and was succeeded soon by a resonant snoring, that denoted Mr. Dopples' prompt obedience to his wife's last command. Shortly thereafter she swept softly into the boy's room, wrapped in a shawl and seated herself at his side. "Are you awake?" she said in a whisper. Ralph said, "Yes;" and propped himself in a listening attitude. "You think strange, I reckon, at my comin' to you in this way," she began. "You've never seen and hardly ever heard of us before. But when I learned the way your grandpap have treated you, I felt sorry, and I want to help you what little I can." "I'm mightily obliged, aunt," replied Ralph, still puzzled how to connect this friendly wish with the object of such a visit as she was making tonight. "Hit was a brother of mine as fought that fight with John Vaughn. I used to believe in the feud, but I don't now. It's a wicked thing to seek people's lives. Both sides have suffered enough, Ralph, and I say let there be peace." "Amen," muttered the lad heartily. "But what I wanted to let you know was about this Captain Shard, as Dopples wants you to go and see. My man never quarrels with nobody--bless his old soul! Therefore, he never 'spicious that any of his friends would want to, either. There's where he is wrong." "Yes; but I don't see how that can apply to Captain Shard, whom I never heard of before." "I know you don't, but I do. Captain Shard's mother was a Vaughn. Now, do you see?" "Good gracious! But it seems to me as if that don't amount to much. Why should this man want to hurt me?" "Hold on. This man Shard's mother was sister to the Vaughn who killed your father, and whom my brother had fought on account of it. Don't you see? When Shard learns who you are, his Vaughn blood is more than apt to prompt him to do you some harm." "They don't shoot people in the town the way we do in the mountains, aunt. I've read that the law is too strong for that." "There's other ways of hurtin' a poor boy 'sides takin' a gun to him. If he chose, he might harm you in other ways. I've heard it said that folks with plenty of money can do 'most anything in the city." "Well, aunt, I'm much obliged to you for letting me know. If I strike Columbia, and meet up with Captain Shard, I shall certainly remember what you say." "Good night, then. Don't tell Dopples what I've said. He's a thinkin' the world of Shard. I like him, too; but then he don't know I'm a Granger, I reckon." After Mrs. Dopples retired, Ralph soon fell asleep. When he wakened again daylight was at hand, and Mr. Dopples was kindling a fire. Breakfast came early, then Ralph bade his kindly friends farewell, and resumed his journey as the sun was peeping over the easterly summits of the Blue Ridge. "Don't forget to see Shard," called the shock headed man, as the boy reached the public road. "He'll help you out." "I may see Shard," thought Ralph; "but I'll be careful how he sees me. I'm going to get out of the range of this feud if I have to travel clear to the seacoast." As he had a lunch along--given him by Mrs. Dopples--he did not stop anywhere for dinner, but trudged resolutely on at a three mile an hour gait. His young limbs, hardened by constant mountain climbing, did not tire readily, while his experience of traveling enabled him to keep the general course he wished to go, notwithstanding the branch trails and the many windings caused by the ruggedness of the country. The latter portion of the afternoon was occupied in climbing a long mountain range that overtopped most of the others in sight. The sun was nearly setting as he reached the summit; then he uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Behind him was a confused jumble of peaks and ridges as far as the eye could reach. It was the region he had left--his own native wilds. Before him stretched an undulating panorama of plain, valley, and gentle hills. There were patches of woodland, great plantations with here and there variegated spots that Ralph supposed to be villages. It was his first view of the level country beyond the Blue Ridge, and he surveyed it with intense interest. "They say it stretches that way clear to the seacoast," he said to himself as he began to descend the mountain. "I don't see how they can see any distance with no big ridges to look off from." This idea--otherwise laughable--was perfectly natural to a lad who had never seen anything but wild and rugged mountains in his life. He quickened his pace, wishing to get down into the region of farms and houses before darkness should come. A rising cloud in the southeast also occasioned him some concern. "Looks mighty like there might be rain in that cloud," he thought. "I've got matches, but I'd hate to have to spend a wet night out in these woods." The gun went down and the black south-easterly haze came up, with semi-tropical celerity. Ralph was still in the lonely region of forest and crag, when a whirl of wind struck him in the face and a few drops spattered on the leaves of the chestnuts around. The brief southern twilight was blotted out almost at once by the overspreading clouds, and young Granger became conscious that he had somehow missed the trail. "That is odd," he muttered. "It was just here a minute ago." Something like a yellow gleam caught his eye, and he plunged along in its course in a reckless manner, for he was nervous with anxiety. Being in a strange region, with a storm on the point of breaking, was not pleasant even to older nerves, when added to the natural terrors of a night in the woods, without any other company than one's brooding thoughts. "Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed as he almost ran against an obstruction that looked not unlike a steep house roof. The odor of tar and resin pervaded the air. Ralph groped his way around it, feeling here and there with his hands. "It's a tar kiln, sure as preaching!" ejaculated he, at length. "There ought to be some kind of a shack about, looks like." He was still searching, when the wind, which had been increasing, brought with it a sudden downpour of rain. Ralph was about to rush for a tree to shelter himself, when a flash of lightning lighted up the kiln and surrounding objects with a pale, brief glare. "Ha--there she is!" exclaimed Ralph, discovering the object of his search. "I almost knew the man as put up this kiln must have had a shelter of some kind." He made his way to a low, brush covered frame near by, arriving there just in time. The darkness was intense, except when cloven by the lightning, while the fall of rain was drenching and furious. The shack leaked some, but it was an immense improvement over a tree for shelter. "Let's see where we are, anyhow," said Ralph, producing some matches, one of which he struck. "Hello! There are some pine knots. Here's luck at last." In a few minutes he had a small fire blazing brightly, and felt more like contemplating his surroundings with cheerful equanimity. But as the rain increased, the leaks grew in number, threatening to put out the fire, and converting the earth floor into a mushy mud puddle. "I can't do any sleeping here," thought he. "Might just as well make up my mind for a night of it round this fire." By dint of careful watching he kept his fire from going entirely out, and managed to keep himself dry by picking out the spots where the leaks were fewest in which to stand. But it was a dreary, lonesome time. The wind whistled dolefully through the pines, and the rain splashed unmercifully upon the bark and boughs of the shack. After each flash of lightning, sharp peals of thunder added their harsh echoes, until Ralph's ears ached, used as he was to mountain storms. The rain began to slacken in an hour, while the wind gradually dwindled to a light breeze. Still there was no chance to lie down, and the boy was growing sleepy. He had drooped his head between his knees as he sat on a pine block, and was dropping into a doze when he heard something stirring at the back of the shanty. He looked around in a drowsy way, but seeing nothing, he again fell into an uneasy slumber. How long his nap lasted he did not know, but all at once he nodded violently and awoke. The fire was low. Then a muffled rattling noise at his feet sent the blood in a furious leap to his pulses. He threw on a rich knot, and as it blazed up his eye fell on an object that caused him to spring up as if he had been stung. "Great Caesar!" he exclaimed, and as the rattle sounded once more, he made a long leap for the doorway. "That was a narrow escape. S'pose I hadn't a woke up?" Then he shuddered, but recovering, hunted up a cudgel and cautiously returned within the hut. There, within a few inches of where the lad's feet had rested as he slept, was a large rattlesnake still in its coil and giving forth its ominous rattle. A dexterous blow or two finished the reptile, but the odor given forth by the creature in its anger filled the hut. "Pah!" ejaculated Ralph. "I must get out of here. The place would sicken a dog." He returned to the open air, now freshened by the vanished rain, and round to his delight, that a moon several days old was visible in the west. The clouds had disappeared, and there seemed every prospect of a clear and quiet night. "It is light enough to see to travel if I can only find the road again," he reflected. "Anything is better than staying here." Taking the direction in which it seemed to him that the trail ought to be, he sought eagerly for the narrow strip of white that would indicate the wished for goal. Presently he heard a distant sound. "It may be the deer a whistling," thought he, listening intently. "But, no; that ain't made by no deer. I believe--it's--somebody a coming along." Some distance to his left Ralph could now detect a connected sound as if a tune were being whistled. In his eager desire for human companionship, he cast prudence completely aside and ran forward shouting: "Hold on! I'm coming. Hold on till I get there!" The whistling stopped suddenly. Ralph kept on, however, in the direction where he had last heard the sounds, and presently distinguished two dim forms standing in an open space amid the trees, through which ran the white thread that indicated the lost trail. "I say," began the lad, "are you fellows going down the mountain? If you are, I'd like to go with you. Fact is, I believe I'm lost." "Halt, there, young feller!" was the reply, given in sharp, stern tones. "One step further and you'll find half an ounce of lead under your skin, mebbe." Ralph obeyed, somewhat puzzled and decidedly alarmed. The men--there were two of them--drew something over their faces, then ordered the boy to advance. He did so, and on drawing near saw that they now wore masks, and had long sacks swung over their shoulders, with a load of some kind in either end. When he saw the masks and the bags Ralph understood at once what their business was. "Who are you?" demanded one of the men, and the lad could see that he held a pistol in one hand. "No lyin', now!" "My name is Granger, and I'm from over on Hiawassee River way. Want to get down into the low country. Got lost; stayed in a shack while it rained, and--here I am." "Be you a son of old Bras Granger?" "No; grandson." The two whispered together a moment, then one of them said: "I reckon you're all right, boy. 'Taint wuth while to ast our names, 'cause d'ye see--we wouldn't tell." "You'd be fools if you did," returned Ralph, his self confidence now fully restored. "I ain't a wanting to know who you are. I know already what you are." "How's that?" came sharply back, and an ominous click was heard, which, however, did not seem to alarm Ralph. "Moonshiners," said the boy briefly. "Haven't I been raised among 'em? I've got kin folks as stills regular, I'm sorry to say." "Sorry! Ain't it a good trade?" "Not when it lands you inside of some dirty jail. Besides, I don't like the stuff, anyhow." "No use to offer you a dram then?" "Not a bit. But I say, if you'll let me go on with you till we get down where there's some houses, I'll think more of that than if you gave me a barrel of whisky." "We're on our way back. We're goin' up the mountain. But you foller this trail for about a mile, then take the first right hand turn. Follow that 'twel you come to an old field. T'other side of that you'll find the mud pike as runs to Hendersonville. After that you'll find houses thick enough. But where are you bound for after you get down there?" "Oh, anywhere most. I'm after work." Ralph concluded that he had better not be more explicit with strangers. The moonshiners soon grew quite friendly and seemed a little hurt over Ralph's persistence in declining a drink. "I'm going out among strangers," he said, "and I've got to keep my head. The best way to do that is to let the stuff entirely alone. Well, so long, men. I'm mighty glad I met up with you." He struck out down the trail whistling merrily. Now that he was on the right road again, and with a clear night before him, he felt far more cheerful than before. He found the old field without difficulty, and not far beyond he struck the Hendersonville pike as the moonshiner had intimated. Here the country was more open. Large fields, interspersed with patches of woodland, were on either hand. Now and then he would pass a cabin, his approach being heralded by the barking of dogs. Once or twice large buildings came into view. These were the residences of the more wealthy class of planters. Even in the dim starlight, Ralph saw that they were larger than the log dwellings he was accustomed to. Finally the moon went down. He would have stopped at some house and asked for shelter, but the hour was so late that he shrank from disturbing strangers. The night was not uncomfortably cool and he was getting further on. Roosters began to crow. A few clouds glided athwart some of the brightest stars and he found difficulty in traveling. Just beyond some buildings he stumbled over something hard and immovable. As he picked himself up, his hand came in contact with cold steel. Peering closely he saw two long lines running parallel as far as he could distinguish on either hand. He found that they were of iron or steel and rested on wooden supporters, half buried in the earth. "Dinged if this ain't queer!" he thought. "Let me see. I wonder if this ain't one of them railroads I've heard folks tell about. They say it'll carry you as far in one hour as a man'll walk all day." Pondering over this, to him, puzzling celerity of motion, he groped his way along the track to where it broadened out into a switch. "Reckon this one must run somewhere else," thought Ralph, when he suddenly detected a large dark object ahead. "What's that, I wonder. Guess I'll look into that. Seeing I'm getting into a strange country it won't do to be too careless." Going slowly forward, he walked completely round the unknown affair, which he ascertained was on wheels that rested on the iron tracks. "This must be one of their wagons they ride so fast in," said the boy to himself. "Hello! The door is open." It was an ordinary box car on a siding, the sliding door of which was partially open. As Ralph strove to peer within, he detected the sound of measured breathing. "Some one is in there," he decided, and drew back cautiously. The darkness had increased greatly and there seemed to be signs of another rain coming up. No other place of shelter was in the immediate neighborhood that he could discern. He thrust his head into the car and felt with his hands. Nothing could he see, nor did he feel aught but the flooring of the car. While he debated as to what he should do, the rain began again. "Gracious!" he exclaimed, "I don't like to go into another man's ranch like this, but blamed if I am going to get wet, with a shelter within two feet of me." He clambered inside and sat with his back against the wall, intending to get out again after the shower should pass. But the shower did not pass on. Instead it settled into a steady drizzle. When the rain began to beat inside he drew the door nearly shut. The measured breathing came from one end of the car. There seemed to be but one occupant besides Ralph. As the time passed, the lad grew drowsy. Inured though he was to an active life, the walking he had done had fatigued him greatly. Now, as he sat resting, waiting for the rain to cease, a natural drowsiness asserted itself with a potency that would not be denied. As he nodded he awakened himself several times by a violent jerk of the head, but at last slumber prevailed entirely, and Ralph was sleeping as soundly as the other unknown occupant of the car. The unusual events of the last two days had kept his fancies at an abnormal stretch. It was natural, therefore, for him to begin dreaming. It seemed as if he were going back instead of leaving his home. Every one he met looked at him compassionately. Finally he saw Jase Vaughn, and remembered that he owed Jase five dollars. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out--a rattlesnake. Even this did not waken him, though he thought he was back at the shack by the tar kiln. The ground seemed to be covered with snakes. He ran ever so far, then all at once he was with Jase just as if he had been with him all the time. "I haven't got no money," he said sorrowfully. "Never mind," replied Vaughn. "You run home. Poor fellow; I'm sorry for you." Much perplexed, he kept on until he stood before his grandfather's cabin. He thought his Aunt Dopples was there, with her eyes red with weeping. "Go in; go in," she urged, pushing him through the doorway. "He's been waiting for you till he's about give out." Ralph dreamed that the first thing he saw was his grandfather propped up in bed, with a ghastly pallor on his face. When he beheld his truant grandson, the scowl upon his brow deepened, and he shook a warning finger. "Wretched boy!" hissed the old man, while Ralph cowered like one in the presence of a ghost, "you are no Granger. There never was a Granger that acted the coward. You are a Vaughn--a Vaughn--a Vaughn!" The old man's tone towards the last rose into such a wild, weird shriek, that Ralph's blood ran cold. He attempted to speak with a tongue so tied by fear that words would not come. Under the agony of effort he screamed aloud, then suddenly awoke. "Here! Here! Wake up, I say!" These words, uttered shrilly in his ear, staggered his senses as he opened his eyes and looked up. A slender, thin faced, alert looking man was stooping over the boy, and shaking him vigorously. Day had dawned. "Wake up, young fellow!" continued the stranger, as Ralph gazed at him in a dazed sort of way. "How came you in here?" "I--I got in out of the rain," said Ralph, staggering to his feet, only to be thrown down again by the jolting of the car, which was in rapid motion. The sliding door was now open. Ralph glancing out, saw the landscape slipping by at a furious rate of speed. The sight so astonished him, that he sank back again. To his unaccustomed senses it was as if the earth were turning upside down. "What's the matter with you? Drunk?"