Sammy had grown very quiet when they rounded the shoulder of
Dewey, and they went in silence down to the cabin on the southern
slope of the mountain. The girl asked Young Matt to wait for her
at the gate, and, going to the house, she entered alone.
A short time she remained in the familiar rooms, then, slipping
out through the rear door, ran through the woods to the little
glen back of the house. Dropping beside the mound she buried her
face in the cool grass, as she whispered, "Oh, Daddy, Daddy Jim! I
wish you were here to-night; this night that means so much to me.
Do you know how happy I am, Daddy? Do you know, I wonder?" The
twilight deepened, "I must go now, Daddy; I must go to him. You
told me you would trust me anywhere with him. He is waiting for
me, now; but I wish--oh, I wish that you were here to-night, Daddy
Jim!"
Quickly she made her way back to the cabin, passed through the
house, and rejoined Young Matt. The two returned silently up the
mountain side, to the higher levels, where the light still
lingered, though the sun was down. At the Lookout they stopped.
"We'll wait for the moon, here," she said; and so seated on a big
rock, they watched the last of the evening go out from the west.
From forest depth and mountain side came the myriad voices of
Nature's chorus, blending softly in the evening hymn; and, rising
clear above the low breathed tones, yet in perfect harmony, came a
whip-poor-will's plaintive call floating up from the darkness
below; the sweet cooing of a wood-dove in a tree on the ridge, and
the chirping of a cricket in a nearby crevice of the ledge.
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