"That promises well for the South," said Hamilton.
"The boom o' the South is jes' beginnin'," the old man said, "an' if you're goin' to do census work this next year, yo' jes' watch the figures an' see whar the old South comes in. It's a pity you're goin' back to Wash'n'ton to-morrow, as I think yo' ought to see more o' this country befo' yo' go."
"I'd like to, ever so much, Uncle Eli," the boy answered, as he got up from the step and started for the big loft where he slept with the mountaineer's two sons, "but, even if I don't get a chance, I've learned a lot from you about the folk on the mountains and about the South generally."
The mountaineer nodded a good-night as the boy disappeared.
"Now thar," he said to his wife, who had been knitting stockings during the latter part of the conversation, and occasionally interjecting a word, "thar is a boy that is really achin' to know things. I wish Rube and Eph were more like him."
"Nothin' but hounds an' vittles worries them," the woman replied sharply, "but they an't none like city boys, an' I'd ruther have 'em the way they air than to come pesterin' with questions like Hamilton does you. I don't set any sort o' stock in it, an' I don't encourage him in sech nonsense."
The big Kentuckian smiled, and filled his corn-cob leisurely as he turned the talk to other things.
Early the next morning, Hamilton and the oldest of the two boys started on their fourteen-mile ride to the station, where the lad was to take an afternoon train for Washington. They had gone about three miles, when they came upon Bill Wilsh sitting on the stump of a tree by the roadside.
"I reckoned you-all would come along this way," he said, "an' I've be'n thinkin' more'n more 'bout Teacheh havin' likely gone to the city, an' not bein' dead after all. Yo' goin' to the city now?"
[Illustration: BILL WILSH'S HOME IN THE GULLY. (_Courtesy of Doubleday, Page & Co._)]
[Illustration: BILL WILSH IN THE SCHOOL. (_Courtesy of Doubleday, Page & Co._)]
"I'm going to Washington, Bill," Hamilton answered.
"Do yo' s'pose that'd be the city Teacheh went to?"
"I couldn't say, Bill," the lad replied, "there's no way of knowing, but it's likely enough."
"I was thinkin'--" the mountain boy began then he broke off suddenly. "I'm mighty partial to whittlin'," he continued irrelevantly.