THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
things stirrin' on this here mountain, an' in the Holler down yonder. Say, Mister, did you ever see a hant?"
The gentleman did not understand.
"A hant, a ghost, some calls 'em," explained Jed. "Bud Wilson he sure seed old Matt's—"
The other interrupted. "Really, young man, I must go. It is already late, and you know I have yet to find a place to stay for the night."
"Law, that's alright, Mister!" replied Jed. "Ain't no call t' worry. Stay anywhere. Whar do you live when you're to home?"
Again Jed's question was ignored. "You think then that Mr. Matthews will keep me?"
"Law, yes! They'll take anybody in. I know they're to home 'cause they was a fixin' t' leave the mill when I left 'bout an hour ago. Was the river up much when you come acrost?" As the native spoke he was still peering uneasily into the woods.
"I did not cross the river. How far is it to this Matthews place, and how do I go?"
"Jest foller this Old Trail. Hit'll take you right thar. Good road all th' way. 'Bout three mile, I'd say. Did you come from Springfield or St. Louis, maybe?"
The man lifted his satchel from the rock as he answered: "No, I do not live in either Springfield
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