"What kind of game are ye after?" he asked.
"Oh, any nice game that needs a good shot."
I noticed that the stranger had a revolver at his side, and in a few moments another slouched-hat individual emerged from a little hut in a side ravine.
"What kind of a rifle is that you've got?"
"It's a Henry."
"I've hear'n of one but never seen one before. Lemme see it," said the mountaineer. He took the gun from me and carefully looked it over. "Where are you from, anyhow?" he asked, without taking his eyes from the gun. I gave the name of the town without any additional facts. Continuing, he said, "I was there once. I lived up in Bark Woods awhile. Do you know where Pumpkin Holler is, just beyond Hebron?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever know Jim Roach, who hauled logs to Joe Powers' saw mill at Hebron?"
"The holler is several miles from my town, but I think I have heard the name," I replied.