If the cabin just raised by their efforts stood in the Yadkin, within sight of the great mountains the pioneers were one day to cross, perhaps a sudden bird note warning from the lookout, hidden in the brush, would bring the builders with a leap to their feet.
It might be only a hunting band of friendly Catawbas that passed, or a lone Cherokee who knew that this was not his hour.

If the latter, we can, in imagination, see him look once at the new house on his hunting pasture, slacken rein for a moment in front of the group of families, lift his hand in sign of peace, and silently go his way hillward.

As he vanishes into the shadows, the crimson sun, sinking into the unknown wilderness beyond the mountains, pours its last glow on the roof of the cabin and on the group near its walls.

With unfelt fingers, subtly, it puts the red touch of the West in the faces of the men--who have just declared, through the building of a cabin, that here is Journey's End and their abiding place.
There were community holidays among these pioneers as well as labor days, especially in the fruit season; and there were flower-picking excursions in the warm spring days.

Early in April the service berry bush gleamed starrily along the watercourses, its hardy white blooms defying winter's lingering look.