Wright, Harold Bell, 1872-1944 / 2008-08-03 00:00:00
ETEXT THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS ***
Produced by Jim Weiler and Robert Rowe
THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
BY HAROLD BELL WRIGHT
TO FRANCES, MY WIFE
IN MEMORY OF THAT BEAUTIFUL SUMMER
IN THE OZARK HILLS, WHEN, SO OFTEN,
WE FOLLOWED THE OLD TRAIL AROUND
THE RISE OF MUTTON HOLLOW--THE TRAIL
THAT IS NOBODY KNOWS HOW OLD--AND FROM
SAMMY'S LOOKOUT WATCHED THE
DAY GO OVER THE WESTERN RIDGES.
"That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
Tho they are made and moulded of things past,
And give to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted."
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 3; SC. 3.
CHAPTER I.
THE STRANGER.
It was corn-planting time, when the stranger followed the Old
Trail into the Mutton Hollow neighborhood.
All day a fine rain had fallen steadily, and the mists hung heavy
over the valley. The lower hills were wrapped as in a winding
sheet; dank and cold. The trees were dripping with moisture. The
stranger looked tired and wet.
By his dress, the man was from the world beyond the ridges, and
his carefully tailored clothing looked strangely out of place in
the mountain wilderness. His form stooped a little in the
shoulders, perhaps with weariness, but he carried himself with the
unconscious air of one long used to a position of conspicuous
power and influence; and, while his well-kept hair and beard were
strongly touched with white, the brown, clear lighted eyes, that
looked from under their shaggy brows, told of an intellect
unclouded by the shadows of many years.
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