The man was from the world beyond the ridges and his carefully tailored clothing looked strangely out of place in the mountain wilderness. His form stooped a little in the shoulders perhaps with weariness but he carried himself with the unconscious air of one long used to a position of conspicuous power and influence; and while his well-kept hair and beard were strongly touched with white the brown clear lighted eyes that looked from under their shaggy brows told of an intellect unclouded by the shadows of many years. The people of the Ozarks called him The Shepherd of The Hills and only he can heal a division in the community that no one else is even aware of.