“All right. Thanks for your kindness, Uncle Dave. I hope I haven’t bothered you too much with my questions.”
“No bother at all, boy. Glad to hev you. It gets kind o’ lonesome here sometimes, with no one to talk to ’cept nature. Come agin.”
“I surely will; good night.”
“Good night, boy.”
The old mountaineer watched until Fred disappeared with a good-by wave of his hand over the crest of the hill, and then he turned to his dog and said quietly, “Come, Tobe, let’s git old Middie; it’s ’bout milkin’ time.”
Chapter III
MORGAN’S DANCE
FRED did not reach the ranch till long after dark; he found it deserted of all but Dan, who sat on the steps.
“Hello,” he called out cheerily as he galloped up; “all alone?”
“Yes,” was Dan’s quiet reply; “the rest have gone to Morgan’s to dance the devil out of them, or in—I don’t know which. Where have you been all day?”
“Oh, just scouting about the hills for fun. There, Brownie, trot away and feed yourself”; he said, jerking off his saddle. After hanging it up, he returned.