THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
studied the ground carefully. When he sat erect again, he remarked, with the air of one who had reached a conclusion, "Wouldn't wonder but there'll be doin's at Ford's tonight, sure enough."
"There's sure to be," returned the girl; "everybody'll be there. Mandy's folks from over on Long Creek are comin', and some from the mouth of the James. Mandy wanted Daddy to play for 'em, but he says he can't play for parties no more, and they got that old fiddlin' Jake from the Flag neighborhood, I guess."
"There'll be somethin' a heap more excitin' than fiddlin' and dancin', accordin' to my guess," returned Young Matt.
"What do you mean?" asked Sammy.
Her escort pointed to the print of a mule's shoe in the soft soil of the low bottom land. "That there's Wash Gibbs's dun mule, and he's headed down the creek for Jennings's still. Wash'll meet a lot of his gang from over on the river, and like's not they'll go from there to the party. I wish your dad was goin' to do the playin' tonight."
It was full dark before they reached the Ford clearing. The faint, far away sound of a violin, seeming strange and out of place in the gloomy solitude of the great woods, first told them that other guests had already arrived. Then as they drew
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