We spent two, perchance three, days climbing and descending and fording.At night Tom would suffer none to watch save Weldon and himself, not trusting Riley or Cutcheon.And the rascals were well content to sleep.At length we came, to a cabin on a creek, the corn between the stumps around it choked with weeds, and no sign of smoke in the chimney.Behind it slanted up, in giant steps, a forest-clad hill of a thousand feet, and in front of it the stream was dammed and lined with cane.

``Who keeps house?'' cried Tom, at the threshold.

He pushed back the door, fashioned in one great slab from a forest tree.His welcome was an angry whir, and a huge yellow rattler lay coiled within, his head reared to strike.Polly Ann leaned back.

``Mercy,'' she cried, ``that's a bad sign.''

But Tom killed the snake, and we made ready to use the cabin that night and the next day.For the horses were to be rested and meat was to be got, as we could not use our guns so freely on the far side of Cumberland Gap.In the morning, before he and Weldon left, Tom took me around the end of the cabin.

``Davy,'' said he, ``I don't trust these rascals.Kin you shoot a pistol?''

I reckoned I could.

He had taken one out of the pack he had got from Captain Sevier and pushed it between the logs where the clay had fallen out.``If they try anything,'' said he, ``shoot 'em.And don't be afeard of killing 'em.'' He patted me on the back, and went off up the slope with Weldon.Polly Ann and I stood watching them until they were out of sight.

About eleven o'clock Riley and Cutcheon moved off to the edge of a cane-brake near the water, and sat there for a while, talking in low tones.The horses were belled and spancelled near by, feeding on the cane and wild grass, and Polly Ann was cooking journey-cakes on a stone.

``What makes you so sober, Davy?'' she said.

I didn't answer.

``Davy,'' she cried, ``be happy while you're young.'Tis a fine day, and Kaintuckee's over yonder.'' She picked up her skirts and sang:--``First upon the heeltap, Then upon the toe.''

The men by the cane-brake turned and came towards us.

``Ye're happy to-day, Mis' McChesney,'' said Riley.

``Why shouldn't I be?'' said Polly Ann; ``we're all a-goin'

to Kaintuckee.''

``We're a-goin' back to Cyarter's Valley,'' said Riley, in his blustering way.``This here ain't as excitin' as Ithought.I reckon there ain't no redskins nohow.''

``What!'' cried Polly Ann, in loud scorn, ``ye're a-goin'

to desert? There'll be redskins enough by and by, I'll warrant ye.''

``How'd you like to come along of us,'' says Riley;``that ain't any place for wimmen, over yonder.''

``Along of you!'' cried Polly Ann, with flashing eyes.

``Do you hear that, Davy?''

I did.Meanwhile the man Cutcheon was slowly walking towards her.It took scarce a second for me to make up my mind.I slipped around the corner of the house, seized the pistol, primed it with a trembling hand, and came back to behold Polly Ann, with flaming cheeks, facing them.They did not so much as glance at me.Riley held a little back of the two, being the coward.But Cutcheon stood ready, like a wolf.

I did not wait for him to spring, but, taking the best aim I could with my two hands, fired.With a curse that echoed in the crags, he threw up his arms and fell forward, writhing, on the turf.

``Run for the cabin, Polly Ann,'' I shouted, ``and bar the door.''