One by one the natives received their meal, and, singly, or in groups of two or three, were swallowed up by the great forest.  Already the little valley was in the shadow of the mountain, though the sun still shone brightly on the tree tops higher up, when Ollie and Sammy returned from the Forks.  Mr. Matthews had climbed the hill when the last grist was ground, leaving his son to cool down the engine and put things right about the mill.

“Come on, Matt,” said Ollie, as the big fellow brought out the meal; “It’s time you was a goin’ home.”

The young giant hung back, saying, “You folks better go on ahead.  I’ll get home alright.”

“Didn’t think nothin’ would get you,” laughed Ollie.  “Come on, you might as well go ’long with us.”

The other muttered something about being in the way, and started back into the shed.

“Hurry up,” called Sammy, “we’re waitin’.”

After this there was nothing else for the young man to do but join them.  And the three were soon making their way up the steep mountain road together.

For a time they talked of commonplace things, then Young Matt opened the subject that was on all their hearts.  “I reckon, Ollie, this is the last time that you’ll ever be a climbin’ this old road.”  As he spoke he was really thinking of the time to come when Sammy would climb the road for the last time.

“Yes,” returned Stewart; “I go to-morrow ’fore sun up.”

The other continued; “It’ll sure be fine for you to live in the city and get your schoolin’ and all that.  Us folks here in the woods don’t know nothin’.  We ain’t got no chance to learn.  You’ll be forgettin’ us all mighty quick, I reckon, once you get to livin’ with your rich kin.”

" ‘Deed, I won’t!” returned Ollie warmly.  “Sammy an’ me was a talkin’ ‘bout that this evenin’.  We aim t’ always come back t’ Mutton Holler onct a year, an’ be just like other folks; don’t we, Sammy?”

The brown pony, stepping on a loose stone, stumbled toward the man walking by his side.  And the big fellow put out his hand quickly to the little horse’s neck.  For an instant, the girl’s hand rested on the giant’s shoulder, and her face was close to his.  Then Brownie recovered his footing, and Young Matt drew farther away.

Ollie continued; “We aim t’ have you come t’ th’ city after a while.  I’m goin’ t’ get Uncle Dan t’ give you a job in th’ shops, an’ you can get out o’ these hills an’ be somebody like we’uns.”

The tone was unmistakably patronizing.  The big mountaineer lifted his head proudly, and turned toward the speaker; but before he could reply, Sammy broke in eagerly, “Law! but that would sure be fine, wouldn’t it, Matt?  I’d know you’d do somethin’ big if you only had the chance.  I just know you would.  You’re so—­so kind o’ big every way,” she laughed.  “It’s a plumb shame for you to be buried alive in these hills.”

There was nothing said after this, until, coming to the top of the ridge, they stopped.  From here Ollie and Sammy would take the Old Trail to the girl’s home.  Then, with his eyes on the vast sweep of forest-clad hills and valleys, over which the blue haze was fast changing to purple in the level rays of the sun, Young Matt spoke.