The girl was much embarrassed:  it required the last ounce of her bravery to advance.  Before she actually reached the little group, she half hid, indeed, behind a tree.  It was from this shelter that she called her greeting:  “Howdy, folks, howdy!”

Frank went toward her with an outstretched hand.  “Come, Madge,” said he, encouragingly.

“Reckon I’ll have to,” she assented, with a bashful smile and took a step or two reluctantly.  But she had never seen folk dressed at all as were these visitors from the famed bluegrass, and her courage again faltered.  Instantly she realized how wholly her own efforts to be elegant had failed.  She hung back awkwardly, pathetically.

“Don’t be nervous, Madge; just be yourself,” Frank urged her.

“Free and easy?  Well, I’ll try; but I’m skeered enough to make me wild and reckless.”

Frank led her forward, while she made a mighty effort to accept the situation coolly.  “These are my friends, Madge.  Let me introduce you.”

She got some grip upon herself and smiled.  “Ain’t no need.  Know ’em all by your prescription.”  With a mighty effort she approached the Colonel.  “Colonel Sandusky Doolittle, howdy!”

The Colonel was delighted.  Her knowledge of his name was flattering.  He had forgotten her strange costume the moment his glance had caught her wonderful, deep eyes.  “Howdy, howdy!” he said heartily, shaking her hand vigorously.  “Why, this is real Kentucky style!” It won’t take us long to get acquainted.”

“Know all about you now,” she said.  “Great hossman.  Colonel, I’ll have a race with you, sometime.”

“What, you ride?” said the delighted Colonel.

“Ride!  Dellaw!” said she, with, now, unembarrassed animation.  The subject was that one, of all, which made her most quickly forget everything beside.  “Why, me and my pony takes to racin’ like a pig to carrots.  Before he lamed himself, whenever th’ boys heard us clatterin’ down th’ mounting, they laid to race us back.  Away we went, then, clickity-clip, up th’ hills and around th’ curves—­an’ I allus won.”

The Colonel realized with a great joy that he had found a kindred spirit.  “Shake again!” he said to her, after further most congenial talk, and then turned to Frank.  “My boy, you’re right.  She is a phenomenon—­a thoroughbred, even if she hasn’t any pedigree.”

Up to this time the ladies had remained somewhat in the background, watching the young mountain girl as the Colonel drew her out.

Madge now turned to Frank, but looked at Barbara.  “Is that the young lady from the bluegrass?” The girl was hurt and really offended by the stranger’s aloof manner.  “Looks like she can’t see common folks.”

“That is Miss Barbara.”  He led the mountain girl toward her.  “Barbara, this is my friend—­er—­Madge.”  He was, himself, a little disconcerted.

The maiden from the lowlands bowed, but said no word.  For an instant Madge shrank back, but then she advanced with an unusual boldness.  Her spirit was aroused.