Here, Bob Yancy, you shake hands with Bruce Carrington," commanded Uncle Sammy.

At the name both Yancy and Balaam manifested a quickened interest.

They saw a man in the early twenties, clean-limbed and broad-shouldered, with a handsome face and shapely head.

"Yes, sir, hit's a grandson of Tom Carrington that used to own the grist-mill down at the Forks.

Yo're some sort of wild-hog kin to him, Bob--yo' mother was a cousin to old Tom.