surrounding the Braggs’ cabin. A tiny gray bird called “Chick-a-dee-dee-dee,” as if to greet the red-capped little figure that ran so swiftly along the rough path. Further on she heard the cheerful whistle of the cardinal, and stopped for a moment to look up into the wide-spreading branches of the big trees that towered above her, hoping for a glimpse of the red-coated songster, but he was not to be seen.
The crossing of the wide brook meant stepping carefully from stone to stone until the middle of the stream was reached, where a broad flat rock gave a firm foothold, and from which Berry was accustomed to jump to the opposite bank. She made the passage skilfully, springing over the rushing water and landing on firm ground with the lightness and sure footing of an active boy; before she had taken a further step, however, a chuckling voice close at hand called: “Well done, youngster! It takes a Tennessee lad to jump,”26 and Berry found herself facing a tall man whose face was nearly covered by a brown beard, and whose brown eyes twinkled with amusement at her surprise. He wore a round, close-fitting cap of coonskin, a leather jacket, with stout trousers of corduroy and high boots. A hunter’s belt held a revolver and hunting-knife, and a knapsack was strapped across his shoulders. It was seldom that Berry encountered anyone in her forest tramps, but she had been taught to believe in the friendliness of the mountain people, and smiled and nodded in response to the man’s greeting.
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“I can jump farther than that,” she boasted. “I can jump farther than most boys of my age.”
The man nodded approvingly. “Well, you ain’t so stocky as some,” he said thoughtfully. “Guess your ma kind of likes to dress you up, don’t she, sonny?” he continued, with an amused glance at Berry’s red silk tie and scarlet wool cap.
Berry nodded. If this stranger mistook her for a boy she did not mean to undeceive him.
“Well,” continued the man, “you can’t help that, my lad. What’s your name?”
“Berry,” responded the little girl.
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