There was a curious constraint in Uncle Dick's voice, as he made hospitable answer.

"Howdy, yerse'f, Stranger? 'Light, an' come in."

"I hain't time to 'light," the traveler declared. "Jones is my name. What mout your'n be?"

Uncle Dick descended the steps, regarding the visitor intently. There was a perceptible aloofness in his manner, though no lack of courtesy.

"My name passes fer Siddon. I 'low ye hain't familiar round these-hyar parts?"

"I'm right-smart strange, I reckon," was the admission. "But I was borned forty-mile south o' here, on the Yadkin. My father owned the place Daniel Boone lived when he sickened o' this-hyar kentry, kase it wa'n't wild 'nough. I'm kin ter Boone's woman--Bryant strain--raised 'twixt this-hyar creek an' Air Bellows."

"Wall, say ye so!" Uncle Dick exclaimed, heartily. "Why, I knowed ye when ye was a boy. You-all's pap used to buy wool, an' my pap tuk me with 'im to the Boone place with 'is Spring shearin'. Thet makes we-uns some sort o' kin. Ye'd better 'light an' take a leetle breathin' spell. A drink o' my ole brandy might cheer ye. An' ye know," he concluded, with a quick hardening of his tones, "hit's customary to know a stranger's business up in these-hyar mountings."

The horseman took no offense.

"I rid up to the balcony jest to make inquiry 'bout a friend what I hain't seed in a right-smart bit, an' who I learnt was a-livin' a lonely widder's life on Guarding Creek. Could you-all direct me to the abode o' one Widder Brown? I hev some private an' pussonal business with the widder. Hit's a kind what don't consarn nary human critter but me an' her."