As Sammy told him of her ambition to fit herself for the place that would be hers, when she married, and repeating the things that Mr. Howitt had told her, explained how the shepherd had promised to help, Jim expressed his satisfaction and delight.  “I knowed you was a studyin’ about something, girl,” he said, “but I didn’t say nothin’, ’cause I ’lowed you’d tell me when you got ready.”

“I didn’t want to say nothing ’til I was sure, you see,” replied the daughter.  “I aimed to tell you as soon as I got home to-night, but Wash Gibbs didn’t give me no chance.”

The man held her close “Dad Howitt sure puts the thing just right, Sammy.  It’ll be old times come back, when you’re a lady in your own house with all your fine friends around; and you’ll do it, girl; you sure will.  Don’t never be afraid to bank on the old blood.  It’ll see you through.”  Then his voice broke; “You won’t never be learned away from your old Daddy, will you, honey?  Will you always stand by Daddy, like you do now?  Will you let me and Young Matt slip ’round once in a while, just to look at, you, all so fine?”

“Daddy Jim, if you don’t—­hush—­I’ll—­I’ll—­” she hid her face on his shoulder.

“There, there, honey; I was only funnin’.  You’ll always be my Sammy; the only boy I ever had.  You just naturally couldn’t be nothin’ else.”

Long after his daughter had gone to her room and to her bed, the mountaineer sat in the doorway, looking into the dark.  He heard the short bark of a fox in the brush back of the stable; and the wild cry of a catamount from a cliff farther down the mountain was answered by another from the timber below the spring.  He saw the great hills heaving their dark forms into the sky, and in his soul he felt the spirit of the wilderness and the mystery of the hour.  At last he went into the house to close and bar the door.

Away down in Mutton Hollow a dog barked, and high up on Old Dewey near Sammy’s Lookout, a spot of light showed for a moment, then vanished.

CHAPTER XV.

The party at Ford’s.

Young Matt would have found some excuse for staying at home the night of the party at Ford’s, but the shepherd said he must go.

The boy felt that the long evening with Sammy would only hurt.  He reasoned with himself that it would be better for him to see as little as possible of the girl who was to marry Ollie Stewart.  Nevertheless, he was singing as he saddled the big white faced sorrel to ride once more over the trail that is nobody knows how old.

Mr. Lane was leading the brown pony from the stable as Young Matt rode up to the gate; and from the doorway of the cabin Sammy called to say that she would be ready in a minute.

“Ain’t seen you for a coon’s age, boy,” said Jim, while they were waiting for the girl.  “Why don’t you never come down the Old Trail no more?”