The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1896-04-03

fruitful and we'll cultivated farm
Through the side ya4d flowed a clear
mountain stream overgrown with laurel
and grapevines and full of trout in the
spring Near the house broad granite
rock sloped into the stream, with hearts
and names cut in it's surface, and here
by the never failing water was the fam
lily wash place, with iron kettle for boil
ing clothes and wooden paddle for
beating them on the rock.
On Sunday morning we were to start
for the forks of the Tuckasegee, to see
Mack, my old guide from Shooting
Creek to Tennessee, and the others to
keep on to Webster for the opening OF
the court, which meets twice year, and
! for the further excitement of political
| tournament between the two candidates
| for congress. When we went out to the
barn to start. expected to throw my
bag and camera into wagon, but was
surprised to find that we had but one
saddle mule between us. At Cashiers
valley we were joined by Reilly Hooper,
with saddle horse and another mule.
] transferred my seat from Monroe's
mule to the horse, and with my traps
in a pair of capacious saddlebags thrown
across the saddle and cushioned with
my overcoat we started for a ride of 20
miles,
The left fork of the Tuckasegee flows
through gap in the mountains, the
road sometimes far above the sound of
its tumbling waters. The high peaks are
covered to the base with massive tim
Der. Superb specimens of the ash, hem
lock and poplar rear their straight
trunks toward the light and darken the
mountain side with their shade. Log
ging camps are scattered along the
stream, and we passed frequently by
logways where the timber is snaked
down incredibly steep places by long
strings of cattle and rolled into the
stream. When freshet comes, the logs
go whirling along, many of them to
lodge on projecting rocks and then wait
for the next period of high water. Here
and there queer, picturesque little grist
mills are built on the mountain branches
flowing into the river.
During the latter part of the ride the
rain fell steadily, wetting us below our
coats and soaking through our shoes,
and here the moonshiner' s whisky filled
its useful place and made us think the
rain a delightful variation in the mo-
notony of fair days. A mile before reach
ing our destination pushed on ahead
Of the others, eager to see my old guide.
Mack was at Sunday school. Rather
funny place, l thought, for that reck-
less, harebrained guide, who in former
times on Shooting creek would as soon
brain an enemy as help friend. BY
this time the others had arrived in the
porch, and our hostess, who was a
shouting Methodist, had opened lively
attack on poor Reilly, who had Lately
joined the Episcopal church. As turned
myself round and round at the fire ]
heard her tell him through the window
that "there was no way you could get
around regeneration. -
Presently Mack came in, surprising
me with figure too tall and spare for
the broad shouldered and stoutly built
Mack l expected to see. Perhaps my
memory was at fault after so many
years, as had already found it in other
particulars
81 know your face" he said. "Jest
give me little time. When your party,
under guard of Parker's men, crossed
over the fork just above the mill ON to
the Webster road, came to you out of
the bushes and talked with you and Sill.
Don't you remember that?''
diIn't ra,,o,,,l how +bn n,
but it was precisely what Major Sill
had told me before leaving New York.
Eyes, | remember you, sure," he
continued 81 mind jest how you stood
while we was a-talkin. You looked sort
of keerless like. I told you if you could
get away to come straight to me. and
we would get you through to Tennessee.
l told you to look carefully at the
mountain tops SO as to be able to find
the place again.
had always believed this to be the
same Mack Hooper who had guided me
from Shooting Creek to Loudon. This
Mack had exchanged part of his clothes
with Sill and Lamson ON the rocks dur
ing the excitement of the Watson affair,
and when l first met my guide he had
been wearing Lamson' s coat. This Mack
had staid with the Kitchens in Shooting
Creek and knew all the people there
whom l inquired after. He had guided
Union officers through to Tennessee,
but the incidents l mentiond he could
not recall. Did he remember lodging
under the bed at Mrs. Kitchens when
the two rebel officers came and surprised
me reading by the fire? This was the
crucial test, and he showed none of the
enthusiasm I expected. Then it trans
pired that there was another Mack
Hooper who lived in White county, Ga,
who was short and stout, as l remem-
bered my guide, and whom they called
Fool Mack" not from any lack of
brains, but in token of his reckless
bravado.
All the men went on to Webster at
daylight the next morning, and l was
left with my camera and sketchbook to
pass long, sunny day rambling about
the scenes of my former visit. The old
fashioned house, with its broad roof and
deep porches, which l had so longed to
see again as it was when we drank Ma
ior porlrar,S o1,D1a iack nv tho great fire.