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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:50:29 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17178-h.zip b/17178-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..12c5459 --- /dev/null +++ b/17178-h.zip diff --git a/17178-h/17178-h.htm b/17178-h/17178-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5c99b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/17178-h/17178-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9925 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Westerfelt, by Will N. Harben + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Westerfelt, by Will N. Harben + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Westerfelt + +Author: Will N. Harben + +Release Date: November 28, 2005 [eBook #17178] +Last Updated: August 3, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTERFELT*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + WESTERFELT + </h1> + <h3> + A Novel + </h3> + <h2> + By Will N. Harben + </h2> + <h3> + 1901 + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h3> + TO + </h3> + <h3> + MY WIFE + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>WESTERFELT</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter XXIV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WESTERFELT + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p> + They had had a quilting at the house of the two sisters that day. Six or + seven women of the neighborhood, of middle age or older, had been in to + sew on the glaring, varicolored square. All day long they had thrust their + needles up and down and gossiped in their slow, insinuating way, pausing + only at noon to move their chairs to the dinner-table, where they sat with + the same set curves to their backs. + </p> + <p> + The sun had gone down behind the mountain and the workers had departed, + some traversing the fields and others disappearing by invisible paths in + the near-by wood. The two sisters had taken the finished quilt from its + wooden frame, and were carefully ironing out the wrinkles preparatory to + adding it to the useless stack of its kind in the corner of the room. + </p> + <p> + "I believe, as I'm alive, that it's the purtiest one yet," remarked Mrs. + Slogan. "Leastwise, I hain't seed narry one to beat it. Folks talks + mightily about Mis' Lithicum's last one, but I never did have any use fer + yaller buff, spliced in with indigo an' deep red. I wisht they was goin' + to have the Fair this year; ef I didn't send this un I'm a liar." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan was a childless married woman of past sixty. Her sister, Mrs. + Dawson, had the softer face of the two, which, perhaps, was due to her + having suffered much and to the companionship of a daughter whom she + loved. She was shorter than her sister by several inches, and had a small, + wrinkled face, thin, gray hair, and a decided stoop. Some people said she + had acquired the stoop in bending so constantly over her husband's bed + during his last protracted illness. Others affirmed that her sister was + slowly nagging the life out of her, and simply because she had been + blessed with that which had been denied her—a daughter. Be this as + it may, everybody who knew Mrs. Slogan knew that she never lost an + opportunity to find fault with the girl, who was considered quite pretty + and had really a gentle, lovable disposition. + </p> + <p> + "Whar's Sally?" asked Mrs. Slogan, when she had laid the quilt away. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know whar she is," answered Mrs. Dawson. "I reckon she'll be in + directly." + </p> + <p> + "I'll be bound you don't know whar she is," retorted the other, with + asperity; "you never keep a eye on 'er. Ef you'd a-watched 'er better an' + kept 'er more at home thar never would 'a' been the talk that's now goin' + about an' makin' you an' her the laughin'-stock of the settlement. I told + you all along that John Westerfelt never had marryin' in the back o' his + head, an' only come to see her beca'se she was sech a fool about 'im." + </p> + <p> + "I seed 'er down the meadow branch just now," broke in her husband, who + sat smoking his clay pipe on the door-step. "She was hard at it, pickin' + flowers as usual. I swear I never seed the like. That gal certainly takes + the rag off'n the bush. I believe she'd let 'possum an' taters git cold to + pick a daisy. But what's the talk?" he ended, as he turned his head and + looked at his wife, who really was the source of all his information. + </p> + <p> + "Why," replied Mrs. Slogan, with undisguised satisfaction in her tone, + "Mis' Simpkins says Westerfelt is goin' with Ab Lithicum's daughter + Lizzie." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Slogan, with a short, gurgling laugh, "what's wrong with + that? A feller as well fixed as Westerfelt is ort to be allowed to look + around a little, as folks say in town when they are a-tradin'. Lord, + sometimes I lie awake at night thinkin' what a good time I mought 'a' had + an' what I mought 'a' run across ef I hadn't been in sech a blamed fool + hurry! Lawsy me, I seed a deef an' dumb woman in town t'other day, and, + for a wonder, she wasn't married, nur never had been! I jest looked at + that woman an' my mouth fairly watered." + </p> + <p> + "Yo're a born fool," snorted Mrs. Slogan. + </p> + <p> + "What's that got to do with John Wester—" + </p> + <p> + "Sh—" broke in Mrs. Dawson. "I heer Sally a-comin'." + </p> + <p> + "But I <i>want</i> 'er to heer me," cried the woman appealed to, just as + the subject of the conversation entered the room from the passage which + connected the two parts of the house. "It'll do 'er good, I hope, to know + folks think she has made sech a goose of 'erse'f." + </p> + <p> + "What have I done now, Aunt Clarissa?" sighed the frail-looking girl, as + she took off her sun-bonnet and stood in the centre of the room, holding a + bunch of wild flowers and delicate maiden-hair fern leaves in her hand. + </p> + <p> + "Why, John Westerfelt has done you exactly as he has many a other gal," + was the bolt the woman hurled. "He's settin' up to Lizzie Lithicum like a + house afire. I don't know but I'm glad of it, too, fer I've told you time + an' time agin that he didn't care a hill o' beans fer no gal, but was out + o' sight out o' mind with one as soon as another un struck his fancy." + </p> + <p> + Sally became deathly pale as she turned to the bed in one of the corners + of the room and laid her flowers down. She was silent for several minutes. + All the others were watching her. Even her mother seemed to have resigned + her to the rude method of awakening which suited her sister's heartless + mood. At first it looked as if Sally were going to ignore the thrust, but + they soon discovered their mistake, for she suddenly turned upon them with + a look on her rigid face they had never seen there before. It was as if + youth had gone from it, leaving only its ashes. + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe one word of it," she said, firmly. "I don't believe it. I + wouldn't believe it was anything but your mean meddling if you swore it." + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever!" gasped Mrs. Slogan; "after all the advice I've give the + foolish girl!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I reckon that's beca'se you don't want to believe it, Sally," said + Slogan, without any intention of abetting his wife. "I don't want to take + sides in yore disputes, but Westerfelt certainly is settin' square up to + Ab's daughter. I seed 'em takin' a ride in his new hug-me-tight buggy + yesterday. She's been off to Cartersville, you know, an' has come back + with dead loads o' finery. They say she's l'arned to play 'Dixie' on a + pyanner an' reads a new novel every week. Ab's awfully tickled about it. + Down at the store t'other day, when Westerfelt rid by on his prancin' + hoss, Clem Dill said: 'Ab, I reckon it won't be long 'fore you move over + on yore son-in-law's big farm,' an' Ab laughed so hard he let the tobacco + juice run down on his shirt. + </p> + <p> + "'Liz 'll manage his case,' sez he. 'Westerfelt may fly around the whole + caboodle of 'em, but when Liz gits 'er head set she cuts a wide swathe an' + never strikes a snag ur stump, an' cleans out the fence-corners as smooth + as a parlor floor.'" + </p> + <p> + Sally bent down over her uncle; her face was slowly hardening into + conviction. When she spoke her voice had lost its ring of defiance and got + its strength of utterance only from sheer despair. + </p> + <p> + "You saw them in his new buggy, Uncle Peter," she asked, "taking a ride—are + you sure?" + </p> + <p> + Peter Slogan dropped his eyes; he seemed to realize the force of the blow + he had helped to deal, and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan laughed out triumphantly as she stooped to put her + smoothing-iron down on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + "Ride together!" she exclaimed. "As ef that was all! Why, he's been goin' + thar twice an' three times a week regular. Jest as he begun taperin' off + with you he tapered on with her. I don't reckon you hardly remember when + he come heer last, do you? Ab Lithicum's as big a fool as yore mother was + in not callin' a halt. Jest let a man have a little property, an' be a peg + or two higher as to family connections, an' he kin ride dry-shod over a + whole community. He's goin' thar to-night. Mis' Simpkins was at Lithicum's + when a nigger fetched the note. Lizzie was axin' 'er what to put on. She's + got a sight o' duds. They say it's jest old dresses that her cousins in + town got tired o' wearin', but they are ahead o' anything in the finery + line out heer." + </p> + <p> + A look of wretched conviction stamped itself on the girl's delicate + features. Slowly she turned to pick up her flowers, and went with them to + the mantel-piece. There was an empty vase half filled with water, and into + it she tried to place the stems, but they seemed hard to manage in her + quivering fingers, and she finally took the flowers to her own room across + the passage. They heard the sagging door scrape the floor as she closed it + after her. + </p> + <p> + "Now, I reckon you two are satisfied," said Mrs. Dawson, bitterly. "Narry + one of you hain't one bit o' feelin' ur pity." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan shrugged her shoulders, and Peter looked up regretfully, and + then with downcast eyes continued to pull silently at his pipe. + </p> + <p> + "I jest did what I ort to 'a' done," said Mrs. Slogan. "She ort to know + the truth, an' I tol' 'er." + </p> + <p> + "You could 'a' gone about it in a more human way," sighed Mrs. Dawson. + "The Lord knows the child's had enough to worry 'er, anyway. She's been + troubled fer the last week about him not comin' like he used to, an' she'd + a-knowed the truth soon enough." + </p> + <p> + An hour later supper was served, and though her aunt called to her that it + was on the table, Sally Dawson did not appear, so the meal passed in + unusual silence. The Slogans ate with their habitual zest, but the little + bent widow only munched a piece of bread and daintily sipped her cup of + buttermilk. + </p> + <p> + Presently they heard the rasping sound of Sally's door as it was drawn + open, and then they saw her go through the passage and step down into the + yard. Rising quickly, Mrs. Dawson went to the door and looked out. She + descried her daughter making her way hastily towards the gate. + </p> + <p> + "Sally!" cried out the old woman, her thin voice cracking on its too high + key, "Sally, wait thar fer me! Stop, I say!" + </p> + <p> + The girl turned and waited for her mother to approach through the + half-darkness, her face averted towards the road. + </p> + <p> + "Sally, whar have you started?" + </p> + <p> + The girl did not move as she answered: + </p> + <p> + "Nowhere, mother; I—" + </p> + <p> + The old woman put out her bony hand and laid it on the girl's arm. "Sally, + you are not a-tellin' me the truth. You are a-goin' to try to see John + Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + "Well, what if I am, mother?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe I'd go, darlin'. I'd be above lettin' any triflin' man + know I was that bad off—I railly would try to have a little more + pride." + </p> + <p> + Sally Dawson turned her head, and her eyes bore down desperately on the + small face before her. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," she said, "you don't know what you'd do if you was in my place." + </p> + <p> + "I reckon not, darlin', but—" + </p> + <p> + "Mother, I'll die if I don't know the truth. Once he told me if I ever + heard one word against him to come to him with it, and I said I would. + Maybe Aunt Clarissa is right about Lizzie an' him, but I've got to get it + straight from him. He went to town to-day, and always drives along the + road about this time." + </p> + <p> + "Then I'll go out thar with you, Sally, if you will do sech a thing." + </p> + <p> + "No, you won't, mother. Nobody has any right to hear what I've got to say + to him." + </p> + <p> + The old woman raised the corner of her gingham apron to her eyes as if + some inward emotion had prompted tears, but the fountains of grief were + dry. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Sally," she whimpered, "I'm so miserable! I'll never forgive yore + aunt fer devilin' you so much, right now when you are troubled. I'll tell + you what me 'n' you'll do; we'll git us a house an' move away from 'er." + </p> + <p> + "I don't care what she says—if it's true," replied Sally. "If—if + John Westerfelt has fooled me, I wouldn't care if it was printed in every + paper in the State. If he don't love me, I won't care for nothin'. Mother, + you know he made me think he loved—wanted me, at least—that + was all I could make out of it." + </p> + <p> + "I was a leetle afeerd all along," admitted Mrs. Dawson. "I was afeerd, + though I couldn't let on at the time. Folks said he was powerful + changeable. You see, he has treated other gals the same way. Sally, you + must be brave, an' not let on. Why, thar was Mattie Logan—jest look + at her. Folks said she was a rantin' fool about 'im, but when he quit + goin' thar she tuck up with Clem Dill, an' now she's a happy wife an' + mother." + </p> + <p> + Sally turned towards the gate. "What's that to me?" she said, fiercely. + "I'm not her, and she's not me. Stay here, mother. I'll be back soon." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm goin' to set right thar on that log outside the gate, an' not + budge one inch till you come back, Sally. If you wait too long, though, + I'll come after you. Oh, Sally, I'm awful afeerd—I don't know what + at, but I'm afeerd." + </p> + <p> + Together the two passed through the gate, and then, leaving her mother at + the log, Sally hastened through the darkness towards the main road, + several hundred yards away. Mrs. Dawson sat down and folded her hands + tightly in her lap and waited. After a few minutes she heard the heat of a + horse's hoofs on the clay road, and when it ceased she knew her child was + demanding and learning her fate. Fifteen minutes passed. The beat of hoofs + was resumed, and soon afterwards Sally Dawson came slowly through the + darkness, her dress dragging over the dewy grass. She seemed to have + forgotten that her mother was waiting for her, and was about to pass on to + the house, when Mrs. Dawson spoke up. + </p> + <p> + "Heer I am, Sally; what did he say?" + </p> + <p> + The girl sat down on the log beside her mother. There was a desperate + glare in her eyes that had never been in eyes more youthful. Her lips were + drawn tight, her small hands clinched. + </p> + <p> + "It's every bit true," she said, under her breath. "He's goin' with + Lizzie, regular. He admitted he had an engagement with her tonight. + Mother, it's all up with me. He's jest tired of me. I don't deserve any + pity for bein' such a fool, but it's awful—awful—awful!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dawson caught her breath suddenly, so sharp was her own pain, but she + still strove to console her daughter. + </p> + <p> + "He's railly not wuth thinkin' about, darlin'; do—do try to forget + 'im. It may look like a body never could git over a thing like that, but I + reckon a pusson kin manage to sort o' bear it better, after awhile, than + they kin right at the start. Sally, I'm goin' to tell you a secret. I'd + 'a' told you before this but I 'lowed you was too young to heer the like. + It's about me 'n' yore pa—some'n' you never dreamt could 'a' + happened. Mebby it 'll give you courage, fer if a old woman like me kin + put up with sech humiliation, shorely a young one kin. Sally, do you + remember, when you was a leetle, tiny girl, that thar was a Mis' Talley, a + tall, slim, yaller-headed woman, who come out from town to board one + summer over at Hill's? Well, she never had nothin' much to occupy 'er mind + with durin' the day, an' she used to take 'er fancy-work an' set in the + shady holler at the gum spring, whar yore pa went to water his hoss. Of + course, she never keerd a cent fer him, but I reckon to pass the time away + she got to makin' eyes at him. Anyway, it driv' 'im plumb crazy. I never + knowed about it till the summer was mighty nigh over, an' I wouldn't 'a' + diskivered it then if I hadn't 'a' noticed that he had made powerful + little headway ploughin' in the field whar he claimed to be at work. She + wasn't a bad woman. I give 'er credit fer that, an' I reckon she never + talked to 'im many times, an' never thought of him except to laugh at him + after she went back home, but he never quit thinkin' about her. She had + 'er picture printed in a paper along with some other church-women in town, + an' somehow he got a-hold of it an' cut it out. He used to keep it hid in + a ol' Testament, in a holler tree behind the cow-lot, an' used to slip out + an' look at it when he 'lowed he wasn't watched. Sally, I never once + mentioned it to him. I seed what had been done couldn't be undone, but the + Lord on High knows well enough how I suffered. Sally, maybe it's the + Lord's will fer you to lose this feller now when you are young an' able to + fight agin it, so you won't suffer the awful humiliation at a time o' life + when a body ort to be easy. Sally, are you a-listenin' to me?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother. I heard every word you said about pa an' the woman. I heard + that, and I heard them frogs down there croaking, too, and the chickens + fluttering on their roosts. I heard his horse still a-trotting. Mother, he + was whistling when he drove up just now—<i>whistling</i>!" + </p> + <p> + The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then the old woman + went on: + </p> + <p> + "It'll go powerful hard with you now, but you'd better have it over with + when you're young 'an to suffer when you're a weak old woman like me. Ol' + age cayn't stand such things so well. No, I never once mentioned the woman + to yore pa. I knowed it would jest make him resort to lyin', an' at the + bottom he was a good, pious man. He jest couldn't quit thinkin' o' that + yaller-headed woman an' her blue eyes an' shiny store shoes. I jest pitied + 'im like he was a baby. It went on till he got sick, an' many an' many a + day he'd lie thar helpless an' look out towards the cow-lot, wistful like, + an' I knowed he was thinkin' o' that pictur'. He was lookin' that way when + he drawed his last breath. It may 'a' been jest a notion o' mine, fer some + said he was unconscious all that day, but it looked that away to me. I + nussed him through his sickness as well as I could, an' attended to every + wish he had till he passed away. Now, you know some'n' else, Sally. You + know why I never put up no rock at his grave. The neighbors has had a lots + to say about that one thing—most of 'em sayin' I was too stingy to + pay fer it, but it wasn't that, darlin'. It was jest beca'se I had too + much woman pride. When I promised the Lord to love an' obey, it was not + expected that I'd put up a rock over another woman's man if he was dead. + Sally, you are a sight more fortunate than you think you are." + </p> + <p> + Sally rose, the steely look was still in her eyes, her face was like + finely polished granite. Mrs. Dawson got up anxiously, and together they + passed through the gate. They could see the red fire of Peter Slogan's + pipe, and the vague form of his wife standing over him. + </p> + <p> + "Now, darlin'—" began Mrs. Dawson, but Sally checked her. + </p> + <p> + "Don't talk to me any more, mother," she said, impatiently. "I want to be + quiet and think—oh, my God, have mercy on me!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dawson said nothing more, and with a sinking heart she saw the + stricken child of her breast walk on into her room and close the door. + </p> + <p> + "Whar's she been?" asked Mrs. Slogan, aggressively. + </p> + <p> + "She went to git out o' re'ch o' yore tongue," said the widow, + desperately. + </p> + <p> + To this apt retort Mrs. Slogan could not reply, but it evoked an amused + laugh from her appreciative husband. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Sally didn't shorely try to do that afoot, did she?" he gurgled. + "Looks like she'd 'a' tuck a train ef sech was her intention." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dawson passed into the house and through the dining-room into her own + small apartment and closed the door. She lighted a tallow-dip and placed + it on the old-fashioned bureau, from which the mahogany veneering had been + peeling for years. Her coarse shoes rang harshly on the smooth, bare + floor. She sank into a stiff, hand-made chair and sat staring into + vacancy. The bend of her back had never been more pronounced. + </p> + <p> + "The idee," she muttered, "o' my goin' over my trouble as ef that amounted + to a hill o' beans ur would be a bit o' comfort! My God, ef some'n' ain't + done to relieve Sally I'll go stark crazy, an'—an'—I could + kill 'im in cold blood, freely, so I could. Oh, my pore, helpless baby! it + seems like she never did have any rail friend but me." + </p> + <p> + She rose and crept to the window, parted the calico curtains, and peered + across the passage at her daughter's door. There was a narrow pencil of + light beneath it. "She's readin' his letters over," said the old woman, + "ur mebby she's prayin'. That's railly what I ort to be a-doin' instead o' + standin' heer tryin' to work out what's impossible fer any mortal. I + reckon ef a body jest would have enough faith—but I did have faith + till—till it quit doin' me a particle o' good. Yes, I ort to be + a-prayin', and I'll do it—funny I never thought o' that sooner. Ef + God fetched a rain, like they claim he did t'other day, shorely he'll do a + little some'n' in a case like this un." + </p> + <p> + She blew out the tallow-dip and knelt down in the darkness, and interlaced + her bony fingers. + </p> + <p> + "Lord God Almighty, King of Hosts—my Blessed Redeemer," she began, + "you know how I have suffered an' why I never could put no grave-rock over + my husband's remains; you know how I have writhed an' twisted under that + scourge, but I kin bear that now, an' more an' more of it, but I jest + cayn't have my pore little baby go through the same, an' wuss. It don't + look like it's fair—no way a body kin look at it, for shorely one + affliction of that sort in a family is enough, in all reason. I stood + mine, bein' a ol' woman, but Sally, she'll jest pine away an' die, fer she + had all her heart set on that one man. Oh, God Almighty, my Redeemer, you + that forgive the dyin' thief an' begged fer help in yore own agony, let + this cup pass. Huh! I'd ruther have 'em stick a speer through my side time + an' time agin 'an have it go on with Sally like it is. You'd better do + what I ask, fer it's makin' a reg'lar devil out o' me. I feel it comin' + on, an' I won't be fit fer no place but hell fire. I jest cayn't see no + sense, jestice, nur reason in my pore little child lyin' in her bed an' + twistin' with sech trouble. You, or some power above or below, tuck Jasper + frum me an' left that yaller-haired sting fer me to brood over day an' + night, but the same ur wuss mustn't come to Sally, kase she don't deserve + it—she's <i>helpless</i>! Oh, Lord, have mercy—have mercy—mercy—mercy!" + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet, and without undressing threw herself on the bed. She + could hear Slogan and his wife, now barefooted, thumping about in the next + room. Far away against the mountain-side she heard a hunter calling to his + dogs and blowing a horn. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + John Westerfelt lived on his own farm in the big two-storied frame house + which had been built by his grandfather, and which came to him at the + death of his father and mother. The place was managed for him by a + maternal uncle, whose wife and daughter kept the house in order. But all + three of them had gone away on a short visit, leaving only the old negro + woman, who was the cook and servant about the house, to attend to his + wants. + </p> + <p> + The morning following his meeting with Sally Dawson on the road near her + house, Westerfelt arose with a general feeling of dissatisfaction with + himself. He had not slept well. Several times through the night he awoke + from unpleasant dreams, in which he always saw Sally Dawson's eyes raised + to his through the darkness, and heard her spiritless voice as she bade + him good-bye, and with bowed head moved away, after promising to return + his letters the next day. + </p> + <p> + He was a handsome specimen of physical manhood. His face was dark and of + the poetic, sensitive type; his eyes were brown, his hair was almost + black, and thick, and long enough to touch his collar. His shoulders were + broad, and his limbs muscular and well shaped. He wore tight-fitting + top-boots, which he had drawn over his trousers to the knee. His face was + clean-shaven, and but for his tanned skin and general air of the + better-class planter, he might have passed for an actor, poet, or artist. + He was just the type of Southerner who, with a little more ambition, and + close application to books, might have become a leading lawyer and risen + finally to a seat in Congress. But John Westerfelt had never been made to + see the necessity of exertion on his part. Things had come easily ever + since he could remember, and his wants were simple, and, in his own way, + he enjoyed life, suffering sharply at times, as he did this morning, over + his mistakes, for at heart he was not bad. + </p> + <p> + "Poor little girl," he said, as he went out on the front veranda to wait + for his breakfast. "It was just blind thoughtlessness. I really never + dreamt she was feeling that way. I've just got to make it lighter for her. + To begin with, I'll never put my foot inside of Lithicum's gate, and I'll + go over there this morning and try to make her see what a worthless scamp + I really am. I wonder if I couldn't marry her—but, no, that wouldn't + be right to her nor to me, for a man hasn't the moral right to marry a + woman he doesn't really love, even if she thinks he is the only man on + earth. I wonder if I really told her I loved her?" Here Westerfelt + shuddered, and felt a flush of shame steal over his face. "Yes, I have—I + have," he muttered, "and I reckon I really did fancy I cared for her at + the time. Yes, I have been a contemptible coward; for my own idle + enjoyment I have allowed her to go on counting on me until the thought of + my going to see Lizzie Lithicum nearly kills her. Well, by George! I can + cut that off, and I shall, too." + </p> + <p> + Just then, in looking across the meadow lying between his house and the + main road, he saw the short form of Peter Slogan approaching. + </p> + <p> + "He's coming here," thought Westerfelt. "She has asked him to bring the + letters, even before breakfast. That's the little woman's way of showing + her pride. What a contemptible scoundrel I am!" + </p> + <p> + But as he continued to watch the approaching figure he was surprised to + note that Slogan was displaying more energy than usual. The little, short + man was taking long steps, and now and then jumping over an obstacle + instead of going around it. And when he had reached the gate he leaned on + it and stared straight at Westerfelt, as if he had lost his power of + speech. Then it was that Westerfelt remarked that Slogan's face looked + troubled, and that a general air of agitation rested on him. + </p> + <p> + "I wish you'd step out, if you please, John," he said, after a moment, + "I've been walkin' so blamed fast I've mighty nigh lost my breath. I'm + blowin' like a stump-suckin' hoss." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt went to him. + </p> + <p> + "What is the matter, Slogan?" he questioned, in a tone of concern. + </p> + <p> + "We've had big trouble over our way," panted Slogan. "Sally fell off'n the + foot-log into the creek this mornin' an' was drowned." + </p> + <p> + "Drowned! You don't mean that, Slogan!" cried Westerfelt, in horror; + "surely there is some mistake!" + </p> + <p> + "No; she's as dead as a mackerel," Slogan answered. "She wasn't diskivered + tell she'd been under water fer a good half-hour. She started, as usual, + about daybreak, over to her cousin, Molly Dugan's, fer a bucket o' fresh + milk, an' we never missed 'er until it was time she was back, an' then we + went all the way to Dugan's before we found out she hadn't been thar at + all. Then her ma tuck up a quar notion, an' helt to it like a leech fer a + long time. My hoss had got out o' the stable an' strayed off some'rs in + the woods, an' Sally's mother firmly believed the gal had run off. I don't + know why she 'lowed Sally would do sech a thing, but she did, and jest + paced up an' down the yard yellin' an' takin' on an' beggin' us to go + fetch her back, so that none of us at the house thought o' draggin' the + hole at the foot-log. But Bill Dugan did, an' soon come with the news whar + she was at. Then her ma jest had a spasm. I railly believe on my soul she + cussed God an' all futurity. She raved till she was black in the face." + </p> + <p> + "Then there is—is no doubt about it?" gasped Westerfelt. "She is + dead?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course she's dead," answered Slogan; "an' bein' as my hoss ain't to be + had, I 'lowed I'd try to borrow one o' yore'n to go order the coffin." + Slogan here displayed a piece of twine which he had wound into a coil. + "I've got the exact length o' the body. I 'lowed that would be the best + way. I reckon they kin tell me at the store how much play a corpse ort to + have at each end. I've noticed that coffins always look longer, a sight, + than the pusson ever did that was to occupy 'em, but I thought ef I tuck + the exact measure—" + </p> + <p> + "Here's the stable key," interrupted Westerfelt, with a shudder. "Take any + horse you want. You'll find saddles and bridles in the shed." + </p> + <p> + Slogan turned away, and Westerfelt walked back to the veranda. "My God!" + he groaned; "why don't I <i>know</i> it was accident? If it was not, then + may the Lord have mercy on my soul!" + </p> + <p> + He went into his room and threw himself on his bed and stared fixedly at + the ceiling, a thousand conflicting thoughts crowding upon him. Presently + he heard Slogan talking to the horse in the yard, and went out just as he + was mounting. + </p> + <p> + "I wisht you'd hand me a switch, John," he said. "I don't want to be all + day goin' an' comin'. I'll be blamed ef I ain't afeerd them two ol' cats + 'll be a-fightin' an' scratchin' 'fore I get back. They had a time of it + while the gal was alive, an' I reckon thar 'll be no peace at all now." + </p> + <p> + "Does Mrs. Dawson blame anybody—or—or—?" Westerfelt + paused as if he hardly knew how to finish. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I reckon the ol' woman does feel a leetle hard at us—my wife in + particular, an'—an' some o' the rest, I reckon. You see, thar was a + lot said at the quiltin' yesterday about Lizzie Lithicum a-cuttin' of + Sally out, an' one thing or other, an' a mother's calculated to feel + bitter about sech talk, especially when her only child is laid out as cold + an' stiff as a poker." + </p> + <p> + Again Westerfelt shuddered; his face was ghastly; his mouth was drawn and + his lips quivered; there was a desperate, appealing, shifting of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon Mrs. Dawson feels hurt at me," he said, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + Slogan hesitated a moment before speaking. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, as if he felt some sort of apology should come from him, + "maybe she does—a little, John, but the Lord knows you cayn't expect + much else at sech a time, an' when she's under sech a strain." + </p> + <p> + "Did she mention any names?" questioned the young man, desperately; and + while he waited for Slogan to speak a look of inexpressible agony lay in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I never was much of a hand to tote tales," said Slogan, "but I may as + well give you a little bit of advice as to how you ort to act with the ol' + woman while she is so wrought up. I wouldn't run up agin 'er right now ef + I was you. She's tuck a funny sort o' notion that she don't want you at + the funeral or the buryin'. She told me three times, as I was startin' + off, to tell you not to come to the church nur to the grave. She was clean + out o' her senses, an' under ordinary circumstances I'd say not to pay a + bit of attention to 'er, but she's so upset she might liter'ly pounce on + you like a wild-cat at the meetin'-house." + </p> + <p> + "Tell her, for me, that I shall respect her wish," said Westerfelt. "I + shall not be there, Slogan. If she will let you do so, tell her I am sorry + her daughter is—dead." + </p> + <p> + "All right, John, I'll do what I can to pacify 'er," promised Peter, as he + took the switch Westerfelt handed him and started away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + When Slogan had ridden off through the mild spring sunshine, Westerfelt + saddled another horse and rode out of the gate towards the road leading + away from the house containing Sally Dawson's remains. He hardly had any + definite idea of whither he was going. He had only a vague impression that + the movement of a horse under him would to some degree assuage the awful + pain at his heart, but he was mistaken; the pangs of self-accusation were + as sharp as if he were a justly condemned murderer. His way led past the + cross-roads store, which contained the post-office. Two men, a woman, and + a child stood huddled together at the door. They were talking about the + accident; Westerfelt knew that by their attitudes of awed attention and + their occasional glances towards Mrs. Dawson's. He was about to pass by + when the storekeeper signalled to him and called out: + </p> + <p> + "Mail fer you, Mr. Westerfelt; want me to fetch it out?" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt nodded, and reined in and waited till the storekeeper came out + with a packet. "It must 'a' been drapped in after I closed last night," he + said. "Thar wasn't a thing in the box 'fore I went home, an' it was the + only one thar when I unlocked this mornin'. Mighty bad news down the + creek, ain't it?" he ended. "Powerful hard on the old woman. They say + she's mighty nigh distracted." + </p> + <p> + Making some unintelligible reply, Westerfelt rode on, the packet held + tightly in his hand. It was addressed in Sally Dawson's round, girlish + handwriting, and he knew it contained his letters, and perhaps—he + shuddered at the thought of what else it might contain. + </p> + <p> + He whipped his horse into a gallop. He wanted to reach a spot where he + could open the package unobserved. He met several wagons and a buggy. They + contained people who bowed and spoke to him, but he scarcely saw them. At + the first path leading from the road into the wood he turned aside, and + then opened his package. There were three or four letters and notes he had + written the dead girl, and one blotted sheet from her. With a quaking soul + he read it. It confirmed him in the fear which had taken hold of him at + the first news of the tragedy. The letter ran: + </p> + <p> + "DEAR JOHN,—I simply cannot stand it any longer. It is now about + three in the morning. Some people contend that such acts are done only by + crazy folks, but I don't believe I ever was more sensible than I am right + now. I am not ashamed to own that I had my heart and soul set on being + your wife and making you happy, but now that I know you didn't feel a bit + like I did, an' love Lizzie, I jest can't stand it. The pain is awful—awful. + I could not meet folks face to face, now that they know the truth. I'd + rather die a hundred deaths than see you an' her even once together. I + couldn't live long anyway. I'm simply too weak and sick at heart. The + hardest thing of all is to remember that you never did care for me all the + time I was making such a little fool of myself. I know you never did. + Folks said you was changeable, but I never once believed it till last + night on the road. I have fixed it so everybody will think my death was + accidental. I've been warned time and again about that foot-log, and + nobody will suspicion the truth. You must never mention it to a soul. It + is my last and only request. It would go harder with mother if she knew + that. Good-bye, John. I love you more right now than I ever did, and I + don't know as I blame you much or harbor much resentment. I thought I + would not say anything more, but I cannot help it. John, Lizzie is not the + woman for you. She never will love you deep, or very long. Good-bye. + </p> + <h3> + "SALLY." + </h3> + <p> + Westerfelt put the letter in his pocket and turned his horse into an + unfrequented road leading to the mountain and along its side. The air was + filled with the subtle fragrance of growing and blooming things. He was as + near insanity as a man can well be who still retains his mental equipoise. + In this slow manner, his horse picking his way over fallen trees and + mountain streams, he traversed several miles, and then, in utter + desolation, turned homeward. + </p> + <p> + It was noon when he came in sight of his house. Peter Slogan had returned + the horse, and, with a parcel under his arm, was trudging homeward. All + that night Westerfelt lay awake, and the next morning he did not leave his + room, ordering the wondering servant not to prepare any breakfast for him. + He did not want to show himself on the veranda or in the front yard, + thinking some neighbor might stop and want to talk over the tragedy. There + were moments during this solitary morning that he wished others knew the + secret of Sally Dawson's death. It seemed impossible for him to keep the + grewsome truth locked in his breast—it made the happening seem more + of a crime. And then an awful thought dawned upon him. Was it not a way + God had of punishing him, and would there ever be any end to it? + </p> + <p> + From his window he had a clear view of Mrs. Dawson's house. There was a + group of people in their best clothes on the porch, and considerable + activity about the front yard, to the fence of which a goodly number of + horses and mules were hitched. The little church, with its gray, + weather-beaten spire, could also be seen farther away, on a slight + elevation. It had a fence around it, and blended with the whiteness of the + fence were a few gravestones. + </p> + <p> + About eleven o'clock Westerfelt saw a negro boy climb a ladder leaning + against the side of the church and creep along the edge of the roof to the + open cupola and grasp the clapper of the cast-iron bell. Then it began to + toll. The boy was an unpractised hand, and the strokes were irregular, + sometimes too slow and sometimes too rapid. + </p> + <p> + It was a signal for the procession to leave the house. Westerfelt's eyes + were glued to the one-horse wagon at the gate, for it contained the + coffin, and was moving like a thing alive. Behind it walked six men, + swinging their hats in their hands. Next followed Slogan's rickety buggy + with its threatening wheels, driven by Peter. The bent figure of the widow + in black sat beside him. Other vehicles fell in behind, and men, women, + and children on foot, carrying wild flowers, dogwood blossoms, pink and + white honeysuckle, and bunches of violets, brought up the rear. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was just turning from the window, unable to stand the sight + longer, when he saw Abner Lithicum's new road-wagon, with its red wheels + and high green bed, in which sat the five women of his family, pause at + his gate. Going out on the veranda, Westerfelt saw Abner coming up the + walk, cracking his wagon-whip at the stunted rose-bushes. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" he cried out; "I 'lowed mebby you hadn't left yet. It 'll be a + good half-hour 'fore they all get thar an' settled. The preacher promised + me this mornin' he'd wait on me an' my folks. It takes my gals sech a' + eternity to fix up when they go anywhar." + </p> + <p> + "Won't you come in?" asked Westerfelt, coldly, seeing that Lithicum did + not seem to be in any hurry to announce the object of his visit. + </p> + <p> + "Oh no, thanky'," said Lithicum, with a broad grin; "the truth is, I clean + forgot my tobacco. I knowed you wasn't a chawin' man, but yore uncle is, + an' he mought have left a piece of a plug lyin' round. My old woman tried + to git me to use her snuff as a make-shift, but lawsy me! the blamed + powdery truck jest washes down my throat like leaves in a mill-race. I + never could see how women kin set an' rub an' rub the'r gums with it like + they do. I reckon it's jest a sort o' habit." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sorry," said Westerfelt, "but I don't know where my uncle keeps his + tobacco." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I reckon I'll strike some chawin' man down at the meetin'-house." + Lithicum stood, awkwardly cutting the air with his whip. "Railly, thar is + one thing more," he said, haltingly. "Lizzie 'lowed, as thar was a' extra + seat in our wagon, you might like to come on with us. She said she had + some'n' particular to tell you." + </p> + <p> + "Tell her I am not going," said Westerfelt, sharply. "I am not going." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you ain't!" Lithicum looked his surprise both at the decision and at + the unaccountable coldness of the young man's manner, which he had not + noticed till now. "Well, so long, Mr. Westerfelt, I reckon you know yore + own business, but I 'lowed everybody would turn out, through respect to + all concerned, if nothin' else." + </p> + <p> + "I am not going; it is impossible for me to go," answered Westerfelt, and + he turned abruptly into the house. + </p> + <p> + Alone in his room, Westerfelt took Sally Dawson's last letter from his + pocket and read it again. Then he lighted a match and started to burn it, + but some inward fear seemed to check him, and the match burned down to his + rigid fingers and went out. "No," he said, "that would be cowardly. I + shall keep it always, to remind me of my hellish mistake. Great God! the + idea of my going to her funeral in a red wagon with Lizzie Lithicum—Lizzie + Lithicum!" + </p> + <p> + The next morning, as he was returning from the post-office, Westerfelt met + Peter Slogan riding to a field he had rented down the road, and which he + was getting ready for cotton-planting. Slogan was astride of his bony + horse, which was already clad in shuck collar and clanking harness, and + carried on his shoulder a cumbersome plough-stock. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he smiled, reining in as he caught Westerfelt's eye, "I 'lowed + hard work in the sun would do more to git the kinks out'n me after all the + trouble at my house than anything else." + </p> + <p> + "How is Mrs. Dawson?" ventured Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better ax me how she <i>ain't</i>," retorted Slogan, shrugging his + shoulders. "I could tell you a sight easier. She's turned into a regular + hell-cat. I thought her an' my wife was bad enough 'fore the trouble, but + it's wuss now. The ol' woman has left us." + </p> + <p> + "Left you?" repeated Westerfelt. "What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, she says she won't sleep an' eat in the same house with my wife, + beca'se she give Sally advice, an'—an' one thing or nuther. The ol' + woman has bought 'er some second-hand cookin' utensils—a oven an' a + skillet an' a cup an' a plate or two, an' has moved 'er bed an' cheer into + the Hilgard cabin down below us. She slept thar last night. It looks + powerful like she's wrong in the upper-story. At fust she was all yells + an' fury, but now she jest sulks an' hain't got one word to say to nobody. + I went down thar last night an' tried to call 'er to the door, but she + wouldn't stir a peg. As soon as she heerd me at the fence she blowed out + 'er light an' wouldn't let on no more'n ef I was a dog a-barkin'. Now, I + hold that she hain't got no call to treat me that away. I never tuck no + hand in 'er disputes with my wife, an' ef hard things has been said about + Sally, why they never come from me. Lord, I've got plenty else to think + about besides gals an' women. I think I'm on track o' the skunk 'at stole + my axe." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt walked on. It was plain to him that none of the neighbors knew + the secret of Sally Dawson's death, but he was beginning to think that the + mother of the girl might half suspect the truth, and that she was his + enemy for life he did not doubt. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p> + The cornfields had grown to their full height and turned from green to + yellow. The stalks, stripped of their tops and blades, were bent by the + weight of their ears. There was a whispering of breezes in the + sedge-fields, in the long rows of brown-bolled cotton plants, among the + fodder-stacks, and in the forest that stretched from the main road up the + mountain-side. It was the season in which the rugged landscape appeared + most brilliant; when the kalmia bloomed, the gentian, the primrose, the + yellow daisy, the woodbine, and the golden-disked aster still lingered in + sunny spots. It was the season in which the leaves of the maple were as + red as blood. + </p> + <p> + John Westerfelt was leaving home, to take up his abode in the adjoining + county over the mountain. As he sat upon his horse and slowly rode along, + one who had known him six months before would scarcely have recognized + him, so great had been the change in his appearance. His face was thinner; + at the temples his hair had turned slightly gray, and an ineffable + expression of restless discontent lay about his eyes. A sum of money had + come to him from his father's estate, and with it he had purchased a + livery-stable at the village of Cartwright. Ever since Sally Dawson's + death, he had wanted an excuse to get away from the spot where the tragedy + had occurred, and his leaving his farm to the management of his uncle now + caused no particular comment among his neighbors. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the highest point of the mountain, the village in question lay in + the valley below. Here he paused and looked behind him. + </p> + <p> + "God being my helper, I'm going to try to begin a new life over here," he + said, almost aloud. "Surely, I have repented sorely enough, and this is + not shirking my just punishment. A man ought to make something of himself, + and I never could, in my frame of mind, with that poor, silent old woman + constantly before my eyes, and knowing that she will never forgive my + offence, and is perhaps constantly praying for some calamity to strike me + down." + </p> + <p> + At the first house in the outskirts of the village he dismounted. A woman + hearing his approach announced by a couple of lean dogs, which sprang from + under the porch, came to the door. She smiled and spoke, but her voice was + drowned in the yelping of the dogs, which were trying to climb over the + fence to get at the stranger. + </p> + <p> + There was something admirable, if slightly discourteous, in the fearless + manner in which Westerfelt leaned over the fence and, with the butt of his + riding-whip, struck the animals squarely in the face, coolly laughing as + he did so. + </p> + <p> + "You, Tige! you, Pomp!" cried the woman, running to them and picking up + sticks and stones and hurling them at the animals, "down thar, I say!" + </p> + <p> + "They have forgotten me," said Westerfelt, with a laugh, as the dogs + retreated behind the house, and he reached over the ramshackle gate to + shake hands. + </p> + <p> + "But I hain't, John," she replied, cordially. "I wasn't lookin' fer you + quite so soon, though. I reckon you must 'a' rid purty peert." + </p> + <p> + "Generally do," he made answer, "though I started early this morning, and + lost half an hour at Long's shop, where I got my horse shod." + </p> + <p> + "Put up yore animal," she said. "That's the stable thar, an' you know + better how to feed 'im 'an I do. Luke's gone down to the livery-stable to + look atter things fer you, but he'll be back 'fore supper-time." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt led his horse into the yard, and to the well near the door. + </p> + <p> + He pushed the bucket into the opening, and allowed the wooden windlass to + fly round of its own accord till the bucket struck the water. + </p> + <p> + "Thirsty?" she asked. "I'll git the gourd." + </p> + <p> + He nodded. "And I want to water my horse; every branch and creek is + bridged for the last ten miles." + </p> + <p> + While she was in the house he wound up the bucket, swearing at the horse + for continually touching an inquisitive nose to his moving elbow. She + returned with a great gourd dipper. He rinsed it out, and, filling it, + drank long and deeply. Then he refilled the gourd and offered it to her. + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon," he said. "I forgot my politeness." + </p> + <p> + "I ain't dry," she said. "I was jest a-lookin' at you, John; you look so + much older an' different-like." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I reckon I'm all right," he said. "How's Luke?" emptying the bucket + into the trough and watching the horse drink. + </p> + <p> + "As well as common; me an' him wus both bound fer you to git the + livery-stable, an' we are glad the trade's closed. It will seem like ol' + times to have a body from Fannin over heer. As soon as you writ the price + you wus willin' to give in a lumpin' sum, Luke set to scheming. He ain't + no fool, if I do say it. Horton an' Webb had the'r eyes on the stable, an' + Luke thinks they'd a-raised his bid, but they 'lowed he wus biddin' fur + himself, an' knowed he couldn't raise the money. Mis' Thorp wus in heer + this mornin', an' she said Jasper Webb swore like rips when the + administrator tol' 'im the trade wus closed with Luke as yore agent. You + orter do well with the investment; you got it cheap; you know how to keep + up stock, an' the hack-line will pay with the mail it carries an' the + passenger travel twixt heer an' Darley." + </p> + <p> + "I'm satisfied," he said, and he took the saddle and bridle from his horse + and turned the animal into the little log stable. + </p> + <p> + "Hain't you goin' to feed 'im?" she asked, hospitably, as he was closing + the door; "the's some fodder overhead, an' the corn is in re'ch through + the crack above the trough." + </p> + <p> + "Not yet," he returned; "I fed him some shelled corn at the shop. I'll + give him a few ears at supper-time." + </p> + <p> + The slanting rays of the sun streamed from a saffron sky in the west and + blazed in the red, yellow, and pink foliage on the mountain-side. The + light brought into clearer outline the brown peaks and beetling crags that + rose bleak and bare above the wealth of color, beyond the dark, evergreen + stretches of pines and mountain cedars. The gorgeous tail of a peacock + spread and gleamed under the cherry-trees in the back yard. A sleek calf + was running back and forth in a little lot, and a brindled cow was + bellowing mellowly, her head thrown up as she cantered down the road, her + heavy bag swinging under her. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of the woman a flock of ducks, chickens, and geese gathered + round her. She shooed the fowls away with her apron. "They want the'r + supper," she said, as she led her guest back to the front yard. She went + to the gate and looked down the road. "I see Luke at the branch," she + added, coming back to him; "he'd be on faster ef he knowed you wus heer." + </p> + <p> + Luke Bradley was about fifty years of age. He had blue eyes, a long body, + long arms, and long legs. His hair was reddish brown and his face florid + and freckled. He walked with a shambling gait, stooped considerably, and + swung his arms. He seldom wore a coat, and on days as mild as this his + shirt-sleeves were always rolled up. He presented a striking contrast to + John Westerfelt, who, by the people of that remote section, might have + been considered something of a swell. + </p> + <p> + "How are you, ol' hoss?" Bradley laughed, as he swung the sagging gate + open and grasped his friend's hand. "Glad to see you; I've done nothin' + but fight tongue battles fer you all day. Webb has been cussin' me black + an' blue fer biddin' agin 'im fer a stranger, but thar's one consolation—we've + got 'im on the hip." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt laughed pleasantly as he followed his host into the + sitting-room. "Much obliged to you, Luke. I'm glad I took your advice + about the investment." + </p> + <p> + "Me'n Marthy wus both dead set on gettin' you over heer," Luke said, as he + placed a chair for Westerfelt in front of the fire. "Both of us 'low a + change will do you good." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bradley sat down in a corner and spread out her ample homespun skirt + and began to run the hem of her apron through her fat, red fingers. + </p> + <p> + "Me'n Luke's been talkin' it over," she said, with some embarrassment; "we + 'lowed you mought mebby be willin' to put up with us; we've got a spare + room, an' you know about how we live. You've lied unmercifully ef you + don't like my cookin'," she concluded, with an awkward little laugh. + </p> + <p> + "I never lie," he retorted, smiling. "It's been a year since I ate at your + house, but I can taste your slice-potato pie yet, and your egg-bread and + biscuits, ugh!" + </p> + <p> + She laughed. "You'll stay, then?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm afraid not. I've packed up some pieces of furniture—a bed and + one thing or other—and I calculated that I'd occupy the room over + the stable. I'd like to be near my business. I reckon I can get my meals + down at the hotel. I'll stay with you to-night, though; the wagon won't + come till to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm disappointed, shore 'nough," said Mrs. Bradley. "I had clean + forgot the room at the stable, an' I ought to 'a' knowed, too, that + Saunders' boys bunked thar. Well, I won't raise no objections; Mis' Boyd, + a widow woman, is keepin' the hotel now, and folks say she feeds well an' + cheap enough. She's from Tennessee, an's got a good-lookin', sprightly + daughter. Nobody knows a thing about 'em; they don't talk much about + the'rse'ves. They tuk the hotel when Rick Martin sold out last fall, an' + they've been thar ever sence." + </p> + <p> + Supper was served in the room adjoining the kitchen. After it was over, + Westerfelt and his host went back to the sitting-room. Alf, a colored + farm-hand, was heaping logs on the old-fashioned dog-irons in the wide + fireplace, and a mass of fat pine burning under the wood lighted the room + with a soft red glow. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt looked round him in surprise. While they were at supper the + carpet had been taken up, the floor swept clean, and a number of chairs + placed against the wall round the room. + </p> + <p> + "Marthy's doin's," Bradley explained, sheepishly; "don't hold me + accountable; she's arranged to give you a shindig to introduce you to the + young folks round about." + </p> + <p> + Just then Mrs. Bradley came in. + </p> + <p> + "Sweep the hearth, Alf," she said, pointing to a live coal that had popped + out on the floor. "Didn't I tell you never to put on them chestnut logs? + Do you want to burn the roof over our heads? Give it to me!" She snatched + the unwieldy bundle of broomstraw from him. "Go tell Mis' Snow I'm much + obleeged fer the cheers, an' ef I need any more I'll send fer um after + 'while. Tell 'er ef she don't let Mary an' Ella come I'll never set foot + in her house agin." + </p> + <p> + "What's all this for?" asked Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "<i>You</i>." She slapped him familiarly on the arm. "I'm goin' to give + you a mount'in welcome. This settlement is full o' nice gals, an' you + hain't the least idee how much excitement thar's been sence the report + went out that you are gwine to live amongst us. I'm the most popular woman + in Cartwright, jest beca'se I know you. I tell you I've been blowin' yore + horn. I've talked a sight about you, an' you must do yore best an' look + yore purtiest. Oh, yore clothes is all right!" (seeing that he was looking + doubtfully at his boots and trousers). "They hain't a dressy set over + heer." Her husband was leaving the room, and she waited till he had closed + the door after him. "I want to talk to you like a mother, John," she said, + sitting down near him and holding the bundle of broom between her knees. + "The truth is, I've had a sight o' worry over you. I often lie awake at + night thinkin' about you, an' wonderin' ef yore ma wouldn't blame me ef + she wus alive fer not lookin' atter you more. I've heerd what a solitary + life you've been livin' sence she died. God knows she wus a big loss, an' + it does bring a great change to part with sech a friend, but, from what I + heer, you let 'er death bother you most too much. Why, folks tell me you + hain't at all like you used to be, an' that you jest stayed at home an' + never went about with the young folks any more. You don't look as well as + you did the last time I seed you, nuther. I reckon it's yore way o' living + but you jest sha'n't do that away over heer. You've got to be natural like + other young folks, an' you jest shall, ef I have anything to say in the + matter. John, yore mamma was the best friend I ever had, an'—" + </p> + <p> + She paused. Luke was hallooing to some one down the road, and Westerfelt + heard the rumble of wheels over a distant bridge. Mrs. Bradley went to the + door and went out. + </p> + <p> + "They are comin', the whole caboodle of 'em!" she cried, excitedly. "I + declare, I believe I enjoy a party as much as any gal that ever lived, an' + at my age, too—it's shameful. I'd be talked about in some places." + She laid her hands on the shoulders of her guest, her face beaming. "Now, + ef you want to primp up a little an' bresh that hoss-hair off'n yore + pants, go in yore room. It's at the end o' the back porch. Alf's already + tuck yore saddle-bags thar." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p> + His room was a small one. It had a sloping ceiling, and a little six-paned + window. A small, oblong stove stood far enough back in the capacious + fireplace to allow its single joint of pipe to stand upright in the + chimney. There was a high-posted bed, a wash-stand, a mirror, and a + split-bottomed chair. + </p> + <p> + He sat down in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned + forward. Despite his determination to begin life anew, he was thinking of + Sally Dawson's death and burial—the old woman who was leading the + life of a recluse, and hating all her kind, him in particular. He put his + hand in his coat-pocket and drew out a thick envelope containing the dead + girl's letter, and read it as he had done almost every day since it came + to him. It was part of the punishment he was inflicting on himself. He had + been tempted a thousand times to destroy the letter, but had never done + so. He forgot that a gay party of young people were assembling in the next + room; he was oblivious of the noise of moving chairs, the creaking floor, + loud laughter, and the hum of voices. Fate had set him aside from the rest + of the world, he told himself; he was living two lives, one in the + present, the other in the past. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was suddenly reminded of where he was by the sound of some one + tuning a fiddle in the sitting-room. He put the letter into his pocket, + rose, and brushed his hair before the mirror. There was a clatter of heavy + boots in the entry opposite his door; four or five young men had come out + to wash their hands in the pans on the long shelf; they were passing + jokes, laughing loudly, and playfully striking at one another. Two of them + clinched arms and began to wrestle. Westerfelt heard them panting and + grunting as they swayed back and forth, till the struggle was ended by one + of them shoving the other violently against the wall; Westerfelt opened + the door. A stout, muscular young giant was pinning a small man to the + weather-boarding and making a pretence at choking him. + </p> + <p> + "Lord, H'ram, stop!" gasped the victim; "yore sp'ilin' my necktie an' + collar." + </p> + <p> + "'Gin the rules to wear 'em," was the laughing reply. "Heer, Joe, you + sprinkle 'im while I hold 'im!" + </p> + <p> + This command was about to be obeyed, when Mrs. Bradley suddenly appeared. + </p> + <p> + "Boys, boys, behave!" she cried, and as the wrestlers separated she + continued, apologetically, "I clean forgot thar wusn't a sign of a towel + on the roller; I wonder what you intended to wipe on; here, take this one, + an' hang it up when you're through." Then she turned to Westerfelt's door + and looked into his room. + </p> + <p> + "Are you ready, young man?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he replied, coming out. + </p> + <p> + "Gentlemen," she said, "quit thar a minute! This is John Westerfelt, my + old friend. Mind you look atter yore intrusts. The boys over in Fannin + know how to please the gals. Ef you don't watch sharp he'll cut you every + one out." + </p> + <p> + The two men holding the towel between them gave him their moist hands, and + those at the basins nodded. Mrs. Bradley drew him into the sitting-room. + The buzz of conversation ceased as she introduced him. They all rose, + bowed, and sat down again, but no one spoke. He tried to detain his + hostess, but she would not stay. + </p> + <p> + "I've got to look atter the rest," she said. "You must talk to some o' + these folks. They didn't come here jest to look at you. Here, Jennie Wynn, + turn yore face round, an' give Frank a chance to talk to Lou." She whisked + off into another room, and Westerfelt found himself facing a blushing + maiden with a round face, dark hair and eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Excuse my back," she said over her shoulder to Frank Hansard. + </p> + <p> + "It <i>hain't</i> as purty as yore face, ef you <i>have</i> got on a new + dress," he replied, laughing. + </p> + <p> + "Hush, Frank; hain't you got no manners?" She meant that he was showing + discourtesy by continuing to talk to her when she had just been introduced + to a stranger. + </p> + <p> + "You ought not to be hard on him," said Westerfelt; "he must have meant + what he said." + </p> + <p> + "You are jest like all the rest, I reckon," she said; "men think girls + don't care for nothin' but sweet talk." + </p> + <p> + Just then the old negro fiddler moved into the chimney-corner and raked + his violin with his bow. Jennie Wynn knew that he was about to ask the + couples to take their places for the first dance. She did not want + Westerfelt to feel obliged to ask her to be his partner, so she pretended + to be interested in the talk of a couple on her left. + </p> + <p> + "Do they dance the lancers?" asked Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "No, jest the reg'lar square dance. Only one or two know the lancers, an' + they make a botch of it whenever they try to teach the rest. Uncle Mack + cayn't play the music for it, anyway, though he swears he can." + </p> + <p> + She glanced across the room at a pretty little girl with short curly hair, + slender body, and small feet, and added, significantly, "Sarah Wambush is + our brag dancer." + </p> + <p> + He understood what she meant. "Too short for a fellow as tall as I am, + though," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Git yo' pahtners fer de quadrille!" cried the fiddler, in a sing-song + voice, quite in harmony with his music. Westerfelt did not want to dance. + He had ridden hard that day, and was tired and miserable, but he saw no + way of escape. The party had been given in his honor, and he must show + appreciation of it. + </p> + <p> + "Will you dance it with me?" he asked the girl at his side. "I am not a + good dancer, and I am stiff from riding to-day." + </p> + <p> + "Old Mack will soon take that out of you," she laughed, as she gladly + nodded her acceptance. She put out her hand to his. "Quick!" she cried; + "let's git that place near the door—it's head, and we can be + opposite Sarah and Nelse Baker." He followed her across the room. He felt + as undignified as if he were romping with a child. The room was not large + enough for two sets, so only one of four couples was formed. Old Mack + noticed that three couples were left sitting, and cried out, + autocratically, "Double on de sides!" Two couples sprang eagerly forward + and took places, leaving one couple alone in a corner. The girl remaining + with her partner attracted Westerfelt's attention. She had rich brown + hair, deep gray eyes, a small, well-shaped mouth, and a rather sad but + decidedly pretty face. There was something very graceful and attractive in + the general contour of her body—her small waist, her broad shoulders + and rounding chest, her well-formed head, and the artistic arrangement of + her abundant hair. There was something, too, in the tasteful simplicity of + her gray tailor-made gown that reminded Westerfelt of the dress of young + ladies he had seen on short visits to the larger towns in the State. + </p> + <p> + Her companion was the most conspicuous person in the room. He was above + medium height, and had a splendid physique—broad shoulders, muscular + limbs, light brown eyes, short brown beard, and long curling hair. He wore + a navy-blue sack-coat, large checked trousers tucked in the tops of his + boots, a gray woollen shirt, and a broad leather belt. He was the only man + in the room who had not taken off his hat. It was very broad, the brim was + pinned up on one side by a little brass ornament, and he wore it on the + back of his head. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt caught the eye of his partner, and asked: "Who is the fellow + with the hat on?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't you know him?" she asked, in surprise. "Why, that's Toot Wambush, + Sarah's brother." + </p> + <p> + "Why don't he take off his hat?" + </p> + <p> + "For want of better sense, I reckon." Then she laughed, impulsively. "I'll + tell you why he always keeps it on in the house. He was at a party over at + Sand Bank last spring, an'—" + </p> + <p> + "Han's to yo' pahtners!" cried out Uncle Mack, as he drew his bow across + three or four strings at once, producing a harmony of bass, alto, and + treble sounds. "Salute de lady on yo' right!" + </p> + <p> + Whack! + </p> + <p> + The bridge of the fiddle had fallen. Everybody laughed over Uncle Mack's + discomfiture, as he rubbed the rosin out of his eyes and grunted, half + amused, half vexed at the accident. He held the violin between his knees + and proceeded to adjust the bridge. + </p> + <p> + "You were telling me why that fellow keeps on his hat," Westerfelt + reminded his partner. + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes!" laughed the girl, "that's so. Toot's never satisfied if he ain't + in a row o' some sort. He will always manage to pick a quarrel out of + something. He's mighty troublesome, especially when he's drinkin'. He was + pretty full over there that night, an' kept dancin' with his hat on. Mis' + Lumpkin, who give the dance, asked 'im quietly to take it off an' behave + like a gentleman. That made 'im mad, an' he swore he'd die first. Then + some o' the boys tuk Mis' Lumpkin's part, an' tol' 'im the hat would come + off ur he'd go out. It 'ud be a treat to see Toot Wambush mad if you could + feel sure you wouldn't get hit. He clamped his hands together behind 'im + an' yelled to Uncle Mack to stop fiddlin'; then he 'lowed ef any man thar + tried to oust 'im he'd put windows in 'im. Frank Hansard, Lum Evans, and + Andy Treadwell made signs at one another an' closed in on 'im. They didn't + fully realize who they had to deal with, though. I hain't got much use for + Toot, but he'll fight a circular saw bare-handed. He backed into a corner + over a pile o' split pine-knots an' grabbed one that Thad Muntford + declared wuz shaped like the jaw-bone o' Samson's ass. It had a long + handle an' weighed about fifteen pounds. On my word, it seemed to me he + slugged Frank and Andy at exactly the same time. You could 'a' heerd the'r + skulls pop to the gate. They both fell kerflop in front of 'im. That left + jest Lum Evans facin' 'im 'thout a thing in his hands. He dodged Toot's + pine-knot when he swung it at 'im an' then Toot laughed an' thowed it down + and shook his fists at 'im, an' tol' 'im to come on for a fair fisticuff. + Jest then Frank come to an' started to rise, but Toot sent 'im back with a + kick in the face, an' helt 'im down with 'is boot on 'is neck. Andy backed + out of the door, an' then Toot ordered Uncle Mack to play, an' tried to + get the girls to dance with 'im, but nobody would, so he danced by + 'isse'f, while Doc White an' Mis' Lumpkin worked on the wounded men in the + next room. Since then Toot has al'ays wore his hat at dances. He swore he + never would go to one unless he did." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt laughed. "Who's the young lady?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Harriet Floyd. Her mother keeps the hotel. They 'ain't been here so + mighty long; they're Tennessee folks." + </p> + <p> + "Sweethearts?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't know. He's 'er very shadder. I reckon she likes that sort of a man; + she's peculiar, anyway." + </p> + <p> + "How do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, but she is." Jennie shrugged her shoulders. "She don't git + on with us. In a crowd o' girls she never has much to say; it always + seemed to me she was afraid somebody would find out some'n' about 'er. She + never mentions Tennessee. But she's a great favorite with all the boys. + They'd be a string o' 'em round 'er now, but they don't want to make Toot + mad." + </p> + <p> + "Right han' ter yo' pahtners," called out Uncle Mack, rapping on the back + of his fiddle with his bow. "Salute yo' pahtners; balance all!" and the + dance began. "Swing corners! Fust fo' for'ards, en back agin!" + </p> + <p> + "Faster, Unc' Mack!" cried Sarah Wambush, as she swung past the old negro. + "That hain't the right time!" + </p> + <p> + "Wait till he gets limbered up," cried Frank Hansard across to her. "He + hain't drawed a bow in two weeks, an' has been ploughin' a two-hoss + turnover." + </p> + <p> + Louder and louder grew the music and the clatter of shoes and boots. The + air was filled with dust; old Mack's fiddle could hardly be heard above + his shouts and the laughter of the dancers. Luke and Mrs. Bradley stood in + the open door leading to the kitchen, both smiling. Mrs. Bradley seemed + pleased with the ease with which Westerfelt appeared to be adapting + himself to the company. + </p> + <p> + "Git the straws, Luke!" urged Frank Hansard, as the "grand chain" brought + him near Bradley. "Give it to us lively." + </p> + <p> + "I can't beat straws," said Luke. + </p> + <p> + Hearing this, old Mack uttered a contradictory guffaw, and shook his gray + wool in high amusement. + </p> + <p> + "Go on, Luke," said his wife, as she pushed him towards the fiddler; "you + kin, you know you kin." + </p> + <p> + Luke edged round between the dancers and the fire, and took two smooth + sour-wood sticks from Mack's coat-pocket. The old negro laughed and sang + all the louder as he held his head to one side and Luke began to thrum the + strings in time to the music. + </p> + <p> + "Whoo-ee!" shouted Frank, and the dance waxed faster and more noisy, till + the exhausted fiddler brought it to an end by crying out: + </p> + <p> + "Seat yo' pahtners." + </p> + <p> + Jennie sat down in a row of girls against the wall, and Mrs. Bradley came + to Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "You must stir round," she said; "I want you to git acquainted. Come over + here an' talk to Sarah Wambush." He followed her across the room. Sarah + was seated next to Harriet Floyd. As he sat down near Sarah, he fancied + that Harriet, whose profile was towards him, gave him a glance out of the + corner of her eye, but she turned her head and continued talking to Toot + Wambush. There was something he liked in the ease of her position as she + sat, balling her handkerchief in a hand hidden half in the pocket of her + jacket. He thought her easily the prettiest girl in the room, and he + vaguely resented the fact that she was receiving marked attention from a + man of Wambush's character. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to knock the fellow's hat off, and tell him that a new man had + come into the settlement who could not, and would not, stand such nonsense + in the presence of ladies. + </p> + <p> + He listened to Sarah's prattle with only half an ear, adding a word now + and then to keep her tongue going, till another dance was called. Nelse + Baker asked Sarah to be his partner, and she rose. Finding himself alone, + Westerfelt got up. As he did so, he caught another glance from the corner + of Harriet Floyd's eye, but she looked away quickly. She thought he was + going to ask her to dance with him when he turned towards her, but he had + decided to invite a little plain girl who sat next the wall, hemmed in by + the crossed legs of Wambush. The girl flushed over the unexpected + attention and rose at once. + </p> + <p> + "That couple don't seem to be dancing," Westerfelt remarked, with a glance + at Wambush and Harriet, as he and his partner took a place in front of the + fire. + </p> + <p> + "No," she answered. "Toot sorter sprained his foot at a log-rollin' + to-day." + </p> + <p> + "And she won't dance without him, is that it?" + </p> + <p> + "She would, but none o' the boys won't ask her when Toot's on hand." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, I see—engaged?" + </p> + <p> + "No. I reckon not; but Toot sorter lays claim to 'er though." + </p> + <p> + "And she don't object?" + </p> + <p> + She looked up and laughed. "It don't look much like it, does it?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know; I never saw them together before." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I see; well, he's her regular stand-by; he takes 'er to all the + frolics, an' the picnics, an' to meetin'. He lives out at his father's, a + mile or so from town, but he gets meals mighty often at the hotel." + </p> + <p> + As the dance began Westerfelt glanced again at Harriet Floyd. He could not + explain the interest he had in her. She was looking straight into his + eyes, as if she had divined that he was talking about her. He was almost + certain that she colored slightly as she glanced on to Mrs. Bradley. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bradley smiled and moved towards her, between the wall and the flying + heels of the revolving circle. Westerfelt, in turning his "lady on the + right," came near them as Mrs. Bradley was saying: + </p> + <p> + "I want you to get acquainted with my Fannin young man, Harriet. He's + mighty nice." + </p> + <p> + At that moment Harriet caught Westerfelt's eye again, and knew that he had + heard the remark. + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and said, evasively, "You are having a nice dance, Mrs. + Bradley; they all seem to be enjoying it very much." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt had not heard her voice before, and he liked it. He noticed + that she did not leave off her final g's, and that she spoke more clearly + and correctly than the others. He concluded that she must have received a + better education than the average young lady in that section. The dance + was nearly ended when Westerfelt saw Wambush bend over and whisper + something to her. She nodded, drew her white shawl round her shoulders, + rose, and followed him out through the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "Gone to try the moonlight," remarked the little gossip at Westerfelt's + side, with a knowing smile. + </p> + <p> + "All promenade!" shouted the fiddler, the dance being over. The couples + went outside. They passed Wambush and Harriet on the porch, leaning + against the banisters in the moonlight. Her head was covered with her + shawl, and her companion was very near her. + </p> + <p> + "Never mind; we won't bother you," called out Sarah Wambush, who, with + Nelson Baker, led the promenaders. "We're goin' down the walk; you needn't + run off on our account." + </p> + <p> + All the others laughed, and Sarah, thinking she had said something bright, + added: "Harriet's got a bad cold, an' Buddy's sprained his foot; they're + takin' the'r medicine." + </p> + <p> + This evoked another laugh, but neither Wambush nor his companion heeded + it. Westerfelt observed that they turned their backs to the promenaders + and seemed to be talking earnestly. + </p> + <p> + "It's cool out here," said Westerfelt's partner as they were returning + from the walk under the arbor of grape-vines. "They are all goin' inside." + </p> + <p> + At about twelve o'clock the guests began to leave. Harriet Floyd, followed + by Wambush, came in hurriedly after most of the others had gone. + Westerfelt was near Mrs. Bradley when she came to say good-night. He heard + her say she had enjoyed herself very much, but she spoke hurriedly, as if + she did not want to be the last to leave. Westerfelt watched them go + through the gate, but he turned away when Wambush put his arm round her + waist and lifted her lightly into his buggy. + </p> + <p> + He was sure he would never like the fellow. + </p> + <p> + Just before Westerfelt went to bed, Bradley looked into his room. + </p> + <p> + "I 'lowed I'd better take a peep at that stove o' yore'n, an' see that + thar ain't any danger o' fire while we are asleep," he said. "How'd you + make out to-night?" + </p> + <p> + "First rate." + </p> + <p> + "I 'lowed you wus gittin' on well enough—talked to most all the + gals, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "All but one, I think—that Miss Floyd." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Toot's gal; mortgaged property, I reckon, or soon will be; she's as + purty as red shoes, though, an' as peert as a cricket." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt sat down on the side of his bed and drew off his boots. + </p> + <p> + "What sort of a man is he, Luke?" + </p> + <p> + "Bad—bad; no wuss in seven States." + </p> + <p> + "Fighting man?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; an' whiskey an' moonshinin' an' what not; ain't but one good p'int + in 'im, an' that hain't wuth much in time o' peace. I reckon ef yo're + through with it, I'd better take yore candle; sometimes I have to strike a + light 'fore day." + </p> + <p> + "All right." Westerfelt got into the bed and drew the covers up to his + chin. There was a thumping on the floor beneath the house. + </p> + <p> + "It's the dogs," explained Luke, at the door. "They are a-flirtin' the'r + tails about. They'll settle down terrectly. What time do you want to rise + in the mornin'?" + </p> + <p> + "When you do. I'm no hand to lie in bed." + </p> + <p> + "You'll have to crawl out with the chickens then." + </p> + <p> + "Luke!" + </p> + <p> + Bradley turned at the door. "What is it, John?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't like Wambush's looks." + </p> + <p> + Bradley laughed, with his hand over his mouth. "Nobody else does to hurt." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think he would trifle with the affections of a young girl?" + </p> + <p> + "Would he?" Again Bradley laughed. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I reckon he would; he is a bad man, I tell you. We'd never 'low him + to enter our house, ef we could help it, but he'd raise the very devil ef + he was slighted. We'd never heer the end of it. Ef we'd left 'im out + to-night I'd 'a' had 'im to fight out thar in the front yard while the + party was goin' on. I wouldn't mind it much, but my wife never wanted me + in a row." + </p> + <p> + "This girl he was with to-night, has she father or brothers?" + </p> + <p> + "No, the's jest her an' 'er mother." + </p> + <p> + "Isn't it pretty risky for her to go with him so much?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I reckon she kin take care o' herse'f; she has that look to me; + besides, she's been warned; my wife an' among 'em has talked to her plenty + o' times. I reckon she knows what he is well enough. Do you know I had my + eye on you an' her to-night?" + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean, Luke?" Westerfelt managed to avoid meeting the eye of + his host as he put the question. He could not remember ever having waited + for a reply with more concern. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know," smiled Bradley, knowingly; "but somehow you an' her + seemed to me to be head an' shoulders above the rest o' that silly crowd. + The idee just popped into my head that you'd make a spankin' team, an' + then ag'in" (Bradley laughed) "I tuck notice that you never went up to 'er + an' talked to her free-like, as you did to most o' the rest, an' I + remembered I wus jest that big a fool when I fust met Marthy. But you wus + a-watchin' of her, though. I'll bet ef you looked at 'er once you did + forty times. As for her, I happen to know some'n funny. You see, I heerd + her an' Wambush a-talkin' on the back porch when I went out thar to draw + up a bucket o' water. The rope had got tangled somehow, an' I had to fix + it, an' while I was doin' of it I couldn't help heerin' what they said, + beca'se Toot wus as mad as a wet hen, an' didn't keer a dern who heerd + 'im." + </p> + <p> + "Mad—at her?" ejaculated Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; it seemed that he had bantered her to say what she thought about + you, an' she'd up an' told him you wus about the best-lookin' man she'd + ever seed, an' that you looked like a born gentleman, an' one thing + anuther. I couldn't heer all that passed betwixt 'em, but he wus as nigh + a' explosion as I ever seed 'im git without goin' off. You'd better look + out. He won't do to meddle with. He's a bad egg—an' tricky." + </p> + <p> + When Bradley had gone, leaving his guest in the dark, Westerfelt found + himself unable to sleep for thinking of what Luke had said. + </p> + <p> + "I wonder, really," he mused, "why I didn't talk to her as I did to the + others, for I certainly wanted to bad enough." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p> + Westerfelt's room at the stable was at the head of a flight of steps + leading up from the office. It had only a single window, but it commanded + a partial view of several roads leading into the village, and a sparse row + of houses on the opposite side of the street. In front of the stable stood + a blacksmith shop, and next to it, on the right, the only store in the + village. The store building had two rooms, the front being used for + dry-goods, groceries, and country produce, the one in the rear as the + residence of the storekeeper. Next to the store, in a sort of lean-to, + whitewashed shed with green shutters, was a bar-room. Farther on in this + row, opposite the jail of the place, and partially hidden by the thinning + foliage of sycamore, chestnut, and mulberry trees, was the hotel. It was + the only two-storied building in the village. It had dormer windows in the + roof and a long veranda in front. + </p> + <p> + Somehow this building interested Westerfelt more than any of the others. + He told himself it was because he intended to get his meals there. Finally + he decided, as he was not to dine that day with the Bradleys, that he + ought to go over at once and speak to the landlady about his board. As he + arranged his cravat before the little walnut-framed mirror, which the + stable-boys in placing his furniture had hung on the wall, together with a + hairbrush and a comb tied to strings, he wondered, with no little + pleasurable excitement, if Harriet Floyd had anything to do with the + management of the house, and if he would be apt to meet her that morning. + </p> + <p> + Descending to the office on his way out, he found a young man writing at a + desk. It was William Washburn, the book-keeper for the former owners of + the livery-stable, whom Westerfelt had retained on Bradley's + recommendation. Washburn was copying accounts from a ledger on to sheets + of paper. + </p> + <p> + "How are they running?" asked Westerfelt, looking over the young man's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "Lots of 'em hain't wuth the paper they are on," replied Washburn. "The + old firm knowed everybody in creation, an' never could refuse a soul. When + you bought the accounts you didn't buy gold dollars." + </p> + <p> + "I know that, but Bradley said he thought I might collect a good many of + them." + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes; maybe a half, or tharabouts." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Westerfelt, indifferently, "we'll do the best we can." + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a big un that's no good." Washburn pointed to an account he had + just copied. + </p> + <p> + "Who's it on?" + </p> + <p> + "Toot Wambush." + </p> + <p> + "How much?" + </p> + <p> + "Seventy-eight dollars an' fifty cents. It's been runnin' on fer two yeer, + an' thar hain't a single credit on it. He never was knowed to pay a cent + to nobody." + </p> + <p> + "Don't let anything out to him till the account is paid." + </p> + <p> + Washburn looked up with a dubious smile. "He'll raise a' awful row. He + never wants to go anywhar tell he's drinkin', an' then he's as ill as a + snake an' will fight at the drop of a hat. Nobody in Cartwright dares to + refuse 'im credit." + </p> + <p> + "I will, if he doesn't pay up." + </p> + <p> + "D' y' ever see 'im?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, last night." + </p> + <p> + "I'd be cautious if I wus you; he's a dangerous man, an' takes offence at + the slightest thing." + </p> + <p> + "If he gets mad at me for refusing to let him drive my horses when he owes + a bill like that, and won't pay it, he can do so. I obey the law myself, + and I will not let drunkards run my business to suit themselves." + </p> + <p> + "He's talking 'bout goin' out to his father's this morning, an' wants to + drive the same rig he had last night." + </p> + <p> + "I did not know he had my turnout last night." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, you wusn't heer, an' I knowed he'd make trouble if I refused him." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right, but don't let him get in any deeper till the old debt + is settled. I'm going over to the hotel a minute." + </p> + <p> + It was a warm day for October, and the veranda of the hotel was crowded + with loungers, homely men in jeans, slouched hats, and coarse brogans. + Some of them sat on the benches, supported by the square columns, at the + end of the veranda; a few had tilted their chairs against the wall, and + others stood in groups and talked county politics. + </p> + <p> + They all eyed Westerfelt curiously, and some of them nodded and said + "Howdy do" as he passed. He entered the parlor on the right of the long + hall which ran through the centre of the main wing. A slovenly negro girl + was sweeping the hearth. She leaned her broom against the cottage organ + and went to call her mistress. + </p> + <p> + A sombre rag carpet was on the floor, and a rug made of brilliant red and + blue scraps of silk lay in front of the fire. On a centre-table, covered + with a red flannel cloth, stood a china vase, filled with colored leaves + and grasses, and lying near it was a plush photograph album. The rest of + the furniture consisted of an ancient hair-cloth sofa, an old + rocking-chair, the arms of which had been tied on with twine, and a + sewing-machine. The windows had cheap lace curtains, stiff enough to stand + alone, and green shades with tinselled decorations. The plastered walls + were whitewashed and the ceiling was faded sky-blue. + </p> + <p> + He heard a door close somewhere in the rear, and then with a light step + Harriet Floyd entered. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning," she said, slightly embarrassed. "Mother was busy, and so + she asked me to come in." + </p> + <p> + "I believe we were introduced, in a general way, last night," he said. "I + hope you remember." + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes, indeed," she made answer. + </p> + <p> + He thought she was even prettier in the daylight in her simple calico + dress and white apron than she had appeared the evening before, and he was + conscious that the sharp realization of this fact was causing him to pause + unnecessarily long before speaking in his turn. But he simply could not + help it; he experienced a subtle pleasure he could not explain in watching + her warm, slightly flushed face. Her eyes held a wonderful charm for him. + There seemed to be a strange union of forces between her long lashes and + the pupils of her eyes, the like of which he believed he had never met + before. + </p> + <p> + "I've come to see if I can get my meals here," he said. "It is near my + place of business, and I've heard a lot of good things about your mother's + table." + </p> + <p> + "We always have plenty of room," she answered, simply. "Mother will be + glad to have you. Won't you take a seat?" She sat down on the sofa and he + took a chair opposite her. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you enjoyed the party last night," he said, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + He fancied she raised her brows a little and glanced at him rather + steadily, but she looked down when she replied. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; Mrs. Bradley always gives us a good time." + </p> + <p> + "But you were not dancing." + </p> + <p> + "No, I don't care much for it, and Toot—Mr. Wambush—had + sprained his foot and said he'd rather not dance." + </p> + <p> + "That was very kind of you. Not many girls would be so considerate of a + fellow's feelings." + </p> + <p> + She looked down at a brindled cat that came into the room and rubbed its + side against her skirt. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think girls care enough about the feelings of men," she answered, + after a little pause. "If they would treat them nicer they would be + better." + </p> + <p> + "You think women can reform men then?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do; though a man that drinks is mighty hard to manage. Sometimes + they can't help it, and they drink more when women show that they have + lost confidence in them." + </p> + <p> + He liked what she had said, notwithstanding its being an indirect defence + of Wambush, but was prevented from answering by hearing his name angrily + called in the street. This was followed by heavy footsteps on the veranda. + </p> + <p> + "Whar is that d——d livery man?" The voice was now in the hall. + </p> + <p> + "It's Toot Wambush!" cried the girl, rising quickly and turning to the + door. "I am afraid he—" Just then the young ruffian entered. His red + face and unsteady walk showed that he had been drinking. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Miss Harriet, have you seed—oh, heer you are!"—he broke + off as he noticed Westerfelt. "You are the one man in the United Kingdom + that I want to see jest at this present moment. Bill Washburn 'lowed he + had orders from you not to let me have anything out'n yore shebang; is + that so?" + </p> + <p> + "I'd rather not talk business here," replied Westerfelt. He rose and + coolly looked Wambush in the face. "If you say so, we'll walk across to + the stable." + </p> + <p> + "No," sneered Wambush, "this heer's good enough fur me; I hain't got no + secrets frum them mount'in men out thar nur this young lady. I jest want + ter know now—right <i>now</i>, by Glory! ef you ever give sech + orders." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think this is a proper place to settle such a matter?" calmly + asked Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "D——d you; you are a coward; you are afeerd to say so!" + </p> + <p> + Harriet Floyd, with a white, startled face, tried to slip between the two + men, but Wambush roughly pushed her aside. + </p> + <p> + "You <i>are</i> afeerd!" he repeated, shaking his fist in Westerfelt's + face. + </p> + <p> + "No, I'm not," replied Westerfelt. The corners of his mouth were drawn + down and his chin was puckered. "I have fought some in my life, and + sometimes I get as mad as the next one, but I still try to be decent + before ladies. This is no place to settle a difficulty." + </p> + <p> + "Will you do it outside, then?" sneered Wambush. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt hesitated, and looked at the crowd that filled the door and + stood peering in at the window. Mrs. Floyd was running up and down in the + hall, excitedly calling for Harriet, but the crowd was too anxious to hear + Westerfelt's reply to notice her. + </p> + <p> + "If nothing else will suit you, yes," answered Westerfelt, calmly. "I + don't think human beings ought to spill blood over a matter of business, + and I don't like to fight a man that's drinking, but since you have + behaved so in this lady's presence, I'm really kinder in the notion." + </p> + <p> + "Come on, then," blustered Wambush. "I'm either yore meat or you are + mine." He turned to the door and pushed the crowd before him as he stamped + out of the hall into the street. + </p> + <p> + Harriet ran between Westerfelt and the door. She put her hands on his + shoulders and looked at him beseechingly. "Don't go out there," she + pleaded; "stay here and let him cool off; he is drinking! He's a dangerous + man." + </p> + <p> + He took her hands and held them for an instant and then dropped them. "I'm + afraid he's been humored too much," he smiled. "I'd never have any respect + for myself if I was to back down now. I've known his kind to be cured by a + good, sound thrashing, when nothing else would do any good." + </p> + <p> + She raised her hands again, but he avoided her gently and went out into + the street. Wambush stood on the sidewalk a few yards from the door, one + booted foot on the curbstone, the other on the ground. He had thrown his + broad-brimmed hat on the ground, and tossed his long hair back over his + shoulders. His left hand rested on his raised knee, his right was in the + pocket of his short coat. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, if you ain't too weak-kneed," he jeered, as Westerfelt appeared + on the veranda. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt advanced towards Wambush, but when he was within a few feet of + him, Wambush suddenly drew a revolver, cocked it, and deliberately raised + it. Westerfelt stopped and looked straight into Wambush's eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I'm unarmed," said he; "I never carry a pistol; is that the way you do + your fighting?" + </p> + <p> + "That's yore lookout, not mine, d——n you!" + </p> + <p> + Just then Luke Bradley ran up the sidewalk and out on the veranda near + Westerfelt. He had a warning on his lips, but seeing the critical + situation he said nothing. A white, tigerish look came into the face of + Westerfelt. The cords of his neck tightened as he leaned slowly towards + Wambush. He was about to spring. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be a fool, John," cautioned Bradley. "Be ashamed o' yorese'f, Toot! + Drap that gun, an' fight like a man ur not at all!" + </p> + <p> + Wambush's eye ran along the revolver, following every movement of + Westerfelt's with the caution of a panther watching dangerous prey. + </p> + <p> + "One more inch and you are a dead man!" he said, slowly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd, who was on the veranda, cried out and threw her arms round + Harriet, who seemed ready to run between the two men. No one quite saw how + it happened, but Westerfelt suddenly bent near the earth and sprang + forward. Wambush's revolver went off over his head, and before he could + cock it again, Westerfelt, with a swift sweep of his arm, had sent it + spinning through a window-pane in the hotel. + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" escaped somebody's lips in the silent crowd, and the two men, + closely on the alert, faced each other. + </p> + <p> + "Part 'em, men; what are you about?" cried Mrs. Floyd. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, part 'em," laughed a man on the edge of the crowd; "somebody 'll get + his beauty spiled; Toot kin claw like a pant'er; I don't know what t'other + man kin do, but he looks game." + </p> + <p> + "No, let 'em fight it out fa'r an' squar'," suggested red-faced Buck + Hillhouse, the bar-keeper, in the autocratic tone he used in conducting + cock-fights in his back yard. + </p> + <p> + The blood had left Westerfelt's face. Wambush's eyes gleamed desperately; + disarmed, he looked less a man than an infuriated beast. Westerfelt was + waiting for him to make the attack, but, unlike his antagonist, was + growing calmer every second. All at once Wambush sent his right arm + towards Westerfelt's face so quickly that the spectators scarcely saw it + leave his side, but it was not quicker than Westerfelt's left, which + skilfully parried the thrust. Then, before Toot could shield himself, + Westerfelt struck him with the force of a battering-ram squarely in the + mouth. + </p> + <p> + Wambush whined in pain, spat blood from gashed lips, and shook his head + like a lion wounded in the mouth. He ran backward a few feet to recover + himself, and then, with a mad cry, rushed at Westerfelt and caught him by + the throat. Westerfelt tried to shake him off, but he was unsuccessful. He + attempted to strike him in the face, but Wambush either dodged the thrusts + or caught them in his thick hair. It seemed that Westerfelt's only chance + now was to throw his assailant down, but his strength had left him, + Wambush's claws had sunk into his neck like prongs of steel. He could not + breathe. + </p> + <p> + "Hit 'im in the bread-basket, John!" cried Luke Bradley. + </p> + <p> + It was a happy suggestion. Westerfelt struck Wambush in the stomach. With + a gasp and an oath, Wambush doubled up and released Westerfelt's throat. + The two men now clinched breast to breast, and, with arms round each + other's bodies, each began to try to throw the other down. They swung back + and forth and from side to side, but they were well mated. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt suddenly threw his left leg behind Wambush's heels and began to + force him backward. In an instant Wambush would have gone down, but seeing + his danger he wriggled out of Westerfelt's grasp, drew something from his + coat pocket, and sprang towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Knife! knife! knife!" cried Luke Bradley in alarm. "Part 'em!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, part 'em!" echoed the bar-keeper with an oath, as if the edge of his + pleasure had been taken off by the more serious turn of affairs. Several + men ran towards Wambush, but they were not quick enough. He had stabbed + Westerfelt once in the breast and drawn back his arm for another thrust, + when Luke Bradley caught his wrist. Wambush struck at Bradley with his + left hand, but the bar-keeper caught it, and between him and Bradley, + Wambush was overpowered. + </p> + <p> + "The sheriff's coming!" a voice exclaimed, as a big man rode up quickly + and dismounted. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" he cried, "I summon you, Buck Hillhouse, and Luke Bradley, in the + name o' the law to 'rest Wambush. Take that knife from 'im!" + </p> + <p> + "Arrest the devil!" came from Wambush's bloody lips. He made a violent + effort to free himself, but the two men held him. + </p> + <p> + "I'll he'p yer, whether you deputize me or not!" grunted Bradley, as he + hung to the hand which still held the knife, "I'll he'p yer cut 'is d——d + throat, the cowardly whelp!" + </p> + <p> + "I've got nothin' 'gin nuther party," said the bar-keeper, "but I reckon + I'll have to obey the law." + </p> + <p> + "He's attempted deliberate murder on a unarmed man," Bradley informed the + sheriff; "fust with a gun an' then with a knife. Ef you don't jail 'im, + Bale Warlick, you'll never hold office in Cohutta Valley agin." + </p> + <p> + The sheriff stepped up to Wambush. + </p> + <p> + "Drap that knife!" he ordered. "Drap it!" + </p> + <p> + "Go to h——!" Toot ceased his struggling and glared defiantly + into the face of the sheriff. + </p> + <p> + "Drap that knife!" The sheriff was becoming angered. He grasped Wambush's + hand and tried to take the knife away, but Toot's fingers were like coils + of wire. + </p> + <p> + "I'll see you damned fust!" grunted Wambush, and, powerless to do anything + else, he spat in the sheriff's face. + </p> + <p> + "d——n you, I'll kill you!" roared Warlick, and he struck + Wambush on the jaw. Wambush tried to kick him in the stomach, but Bradley + prevented it by jerking him backward. It now became a struggle between + three men and one, and that one really seemed equal in strength to the + other three. + </p> + <p> + "Drap the knife!" yelled Warlick again, and he drew a big revolver, and + with the butt of it began to hammer Toot's clinched fingers. As he did + this, Bradley and Hillhouse drew Wambush backward and down to the ground. + </p> + <p> + "I'll pay you for this, Bale Warlick," he groaned in pain, but he still + held to the knife. + </p> + <p> + "Let go that knife," thundered the sheriff. "Let it a-loose, I tell you, + or I'll mash your skull!" + </p> + <p> + "Not while I hold 'im, Bale," said the bar-keeper, sullenly. "Law or no + law, I won't he'p beat no man 'at's down!" + </p> + <p> + "Let go that knife!" The sheriff spoke the last word almost in a scream, + and he beat Wambush's knuckles so furiously that the knife fell to the + ground. + </p> + <p> + He then pinned Toot's legs to the earth with his knees, and held the knife + up to a man in the crowd. + </p> + <p> + "Keep it jest like it is fur evidence," he panted. "Don't shet it up or + tetch the blade." + </p> + <p> + Disarmed, Wambush seemed suddenly overcome with fear. He allowed the + sheriff to jerk him to his feet, and walked passively between the three + men across the street to the stone jail. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt stood alone on the sidewalk. Everybody went to see Wambush + locked up except Harriet and her mother. They instantly came out to + Westerfelt. Harriet picked up a folded piece of letter paper. + </p> + <p> + "Did you drop this?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + He did not reply, but took the paper absently and thrust it into his coat + pocket. It had fallen from Wambush's pocket. He was very white and leaned + heavily against a sycamore-tree. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, he's cut your coat; look!" Harriet cried. + </p> + <p> + Still he did not speak. He looked down at the slit in the cloth and raised + his hand towards it, but his arm fell limply and he swayed from side to + side. + </p> + <p> + "Are you hurt?" asked Mrs. Floyd, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + "I think not," he said; "but maybe I am, a little." + </p> + <p> + Harriet opened his coat and screamed, "Oh, mother, he's cut! Look at the + blood!" + </p> + <p> + He tried to button his coat, but could not use his fingers. "Only a + scratch," he said. + </p> + <p> + "But your clothes are wet with blood," Harriet insisted, as she pointed to + his trousers. + </p> + <p> + He stooped and felt them. They were damp and heavy. Then he raised his + heel in his right boot, and let it down again. + </p> + <p> + "It's full," he said, with a sickly smile. "I reckon I <i>have</i> lost + some blood. Why—why, I didn't feel it." + </p> + <p> + Martin Worthy, the storekeeper, ran across from the jail ahead of the + others. Hearing Westerfelt's remark, he cried: + </p> + <p> + "My Lord! you must go inside an' lie down; fix a place, Miss Harriet, an' + send fer a doctor, quick!" + </p> + <p> + Harriet ran into the house, and Mrs. Floyd and Worthy supported Westerfelt + between them into a room adjoining the parlor. They made him lie on a bed, + and Worthy opened his waistcoat and shirt. + </p> + <p> + "Good gracious, it's runnin' like a wet-weather spring," he said. "Have + you sent fer a doctor?" he asked as Harriet came in. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; Dr. Lash, but he may not be at his office." + </p> + <p> + "Send for Dr. Wells," he ordered a man at the door. "That's right," he + added to Harriet, who had knelt by the bed and was holding the lips of the + wound together, "keep the cut closed as well as you kin! I'll go tell 'im + to use my hoss." + </p> + <p> + As he went out there was a clatter of feet on the veranda. The people were + returning from the jail. Westerfelt opened his eyes and looked towards the + door. + </p> + <p> + "They'll crowd in here," said Harriet to her mother. "Shut the door; don't + let anybody in except Mr. Bradley." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd closed the door in the face of the crowd, asking them to go + outside, but they remained in the hall, silent and awed, waiting for news + of the wounded man. Mrs. Floyd admitted Luke Bradley. + </p> + <p> + "My heavens, John, I had no idea he got such a clean sweep at you!" he + said, as he approached the bed. "Ef I'd a-knowed this I'd 'a' killed the + dirty scamp!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm all right," replied Westerfelt; "just a little loss of blood." But + his voice was faint and his eyelids drooped despite his effort to keep + them open. Worthy rapped at the door and was admitted. + </p> + <p> + "Doc Lash has rid out to Widow Treadwell's," he announced. "He's been sent + fer, an' ort ter git heer before long. It'll take a hour to git Wells, + even ef he's at home." + </p> + <p> + Harriet Floyd glanced at her mother when she heard this. Her knees ached + and her fingers felt stiff and numb, but she dared not stir. + </p> + <p> + Once Westerfelt opened his eyes and looked down at her. + </p> + <p> + "Do I hurt you?" she asked, softly. + </p> + <p> + "Not a bit." He smiled, and his eyes lingered on her face till their lids + dropped over them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p> + Dr. Lash came a little earlier than he was expected. The wound was not + really a fatal one, he said, but if Miss Harriet had not been so attentive + and skilful in keeping the cut closed, the man would have bled to death. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt dropped to sleep, and when he awoke it was night. A lamp, the + light of which was softened by a pink shade, stood on a sewing-machine + near the fireplace. At first he could not recall what had happened nor + where he was, and he felt very weak and sleepy. After awhile, however, he + became conscious of the fact that he was not alone. A slight figure was + moving silently about the room, now at the fireplace, again at a table + where some lint, bandages, and phials had been left. The figure approached + his bed cautiously. It was Harriet Floyd. When she saw that he was awake, + she started to move away, but he detained her. + </p> + <p> + "I'm a lot of trouble for a new boarder," he said, smiling. "This is my + first day, and yet I've turned your house into a fortification and a + hospital." + </p> + <p> + "You are not a bit of trouble; the doctor said let you sleep as much as + possible." + </p> + <p> + "I don't need sleep; I've been hurt worse than this before." + </p> + <p> + She put her hand on his brow. "It'll make you feverish to talk, Mr. + Westerfelt; go to sleep." + </p> + <p> + "Did they jail Wambush?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Toughest customer I ever tackled." He laughed, dryly. + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. She went to the fire and began stirring the contents of + a three-legged pot on the coals. To see her better, he turned over on his + side. The bed slats creaked. + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" she exclaimed, running to him, "you'll break the stitches, and bleed + again. Don't move that way." + </p> + <p> + He raised the blanket and looked down at his wound. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon they are holding all right, though I <i>did</i> feel a little + twinge." + </p> + <p> + "You have not had any dinner or supper," she went on. "Dr. Lash said if + you wanted anything I might give you some gruel and milk. I've made it, + and it is keeping warm at the fire. Will you take some?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I thank you; I can wait till breakfast. Then I'll set up at the table + and eat a square meal; somehow, I'm not hungry. Wambush objected mightily + to being jailed, didn't he?" + </p> + <p> + "You ought not to wait till breakfast," she said, looking at the fire; + "you'd better let me give you some of this gruel." + </p> + <p> + "All right; you are the doctor." + </p> + <p> + She dipped up some of the gruel in a bowl, and, adding some milk to it, + came back to him. But she was confronted by a difficulty. He could not eat + gruel and milk from a spoon while lying on his back. He saw this, and put + his hands on either side of him and started to sit up. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, don't!" she cried, setting the bowl on the floor and gently pushing + him back on his pillow; "you must not!" + </p> + <p> + He laughed. "Just like a woman. You surely don't think I'm going to lie + here for a week, like a sick cat, for such a little scratch. I've lost + some blood, that's all." And before she could prevent it, he had drawn + himself up and was smiling broadly. + </p> + <p> + "I can't look after sick folks," she said, in despair. "The doctor will + blame me." + </p> + <p> + "I heard him say if you hadn't held my cut so well I'd have bled to + death." + </p> + <p> + "Anybody else could have done it." + </p> + <p> + "Nobody else didn't." + </p> + <p> + "Do you want the gruel? Take it quick, and lie down again; you'll lose + strength sitting up." + </p> + <p> + "You'll have to feed me," he said, opening his mouth. "I'm too blamed weak + to sit up without propping with my hands, and they don't seem very good + supports. Look how that one is wobbling." + </p> + <p> + She sat down on the edge of the bed, and without a word placed the bowl in + her lap and her arm round him. Then neither spoke as she filled the spoon + and held it to his lips. She felt him trying to steady his arms to keep + his weight from her. + </p> + <p> + "It's really good," he said, as she filled the spoon the second time, "I + had no idea I was so hungry; you say you made it?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; there now, I'll have to wipe your chin; you ought not to talk when + you are eating." + </p> + <p> + For several minutes neither spoke. He finished the bowl of gruel and lay + down again. + </p> + <p> + "I feel as mean as a dog," he said, as she rose and drew the cover over + him; "here I am being nursed by the very fellow's sweetheart I tried my + level best to do up." + </p> + <p> + She turned and placed the bowl on the table, and then went to the fire. + </p> + <p> + "I heard you were his girl last night," he went on. "Well, I'm glad I + didn't kill him. I wouldn't have tried in anything but self-defence, for + even if he did use a gun and knife, when I had none, he's got bulldog + pluck, and plenty of it. Do you know, I felt like mashing the head of that + sheriff for beating him like he did." + </p> + <p> + She sat down before the fire, but soon rose again. "If I stay here," she + said, abruptly, and rather sharply, "you'll keep talking, and not sleep at + all. I'm going into the next room—the parlor. If you want anything, + call me and I'll come." + </p> + <p> + A few minutes after she left him he fell asleep. She put a piece of wood + on the fire in the next room and sat down before it. She had left the door + of his room ajar, and a ray of light from his lamp fell across the dark + carpet and dimly illuminated the room. The hours passed slowly. No one in + the house was astir. No sound came from the outside save the dismal + barking of a dog down the road. She was fatigued and almost asleep, when + she was suddenly roused by a far-off shout. + </p> + <p> + "Whoopee! Whoopee!" + </p> + <p> + It seemed to come from the road leading down from the loftiest mountain + peak. She held her breath and listened. + </p> + <p> + "Whoopee! Whoopee!" It was nearer. Then she heard the steady tramp of + horses' hoofs. She rose and went to the window, moving softly, that her + ear might not lose any of the sounds. She raised the window cautiously and + looked out. The moon was shining brightly, and down the street beyond the + livery-stable she saw a body of horsemen. + </p> + <p> + "Great Heavens!" she exclaimed; "it's the 'Whitecaps'!" + </p> + <p> + She drew back behind the curtains as the horsemen rode up to the hotel and + stopped. There were twenty or more, and each wore a white cap, a white + mask, and a white sheet over the body. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's whar the scrimmage tuck place," explained some one in a muffled + voice, and a white figure pointed to the spot where Westerfelt and Wambush + had fought. "We must hurry an' take 'im out, an' have it over." + </p> + <p> + Harriet Floyd heard some one breathing behind her. It was Westerfelt. His + elbow touched her as he leaned towards the window and peered out. "Oh, + it's you!" she cried. "Go back to bed, you—" + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to hear her. The moonlight fell on his face. It was + ghastly pale. He suddenly drew back beside her to keep from being observed + by the men outside. His lips moved, but they made no sound. + </p> + <p> + "Go back to bed," she repeated. She put out her hand and touched him, but + she did not look at him, being unable to resist the fascination of the + sight in the street. + </p> + <p> + "What do they want?" he whispered. He put his hand on an old-fashioned + what-not behind him, and the shells and ornaments on it began to rattle. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," she said; "don't let 'em see you; you couldn't do anything + against so many. They are a band sworn to protect one another." + </p> + <p> + "His friends?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, I see." He glanced at the two doors, one opening into the hall, the + other into his room, and then he swayed and clutched the curtain. + </p> + <p> + She caught his arm and braced him up. "Oh, you <i>must</i> go lie down; + you'll—" + </p> + <p> + A noise outside drew her back to the window. The band was crossing the + street to the jail. + </p> + <p> + "What are they going to do?" He steadied himself, resting his hand on her + shoulder, and looked through a pane above her head. + </p> + <p> + "To take Toot out." + </p> + <p> + "An' then he'll lead them, won't he?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know! I reckon so—oh, I can't tell!" She faced him for an + instant, a look of helpless indecision in her eyes; then she turned again + to the window. + </p> + <p> + "I'll go slip on my coat," he said. "I—I'm cold. I'd better get + ready. You see, he may want to—call me out. I wish I had a gun—or + something." + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, and he went into his room. He turned up the lamp, but + quickly lowered it again. He found his coat on a chair and put it on. He + wondered if he were actually afraid. Surely he had never felt so before; + perhaps his mind was not right—his wound and all his mental trouble + had affected his nerves, and then a genuine thrill of horror went over + him. Might not this be the particular form of punishment Providence had + singled out for the murderer of Sally Dawson—might it not be the + grewsome, belated answer to her mother's prayer? + </p> + <p> + Just then Harriet entered the room softly and turned his light down still + lower. + </p> + <p> + "Stay back here," she said, her tone almost a command. + </p> + <p> + "Why?" + </p> + <p> + "If they get Toot out, it would be just like him to try to— You—you + are not strong enough to get out of their way. Oh, I don't know what to + do!" She went back to the window in the next room. He followed her, and + stood by her side. + </p> + <p> + The white figures had dismounted at the jail. They paused at the gate a + moment, then filed into the yard and stood at the door. The leader rapped + on it loudly. + </p> + <p> + "Hello in thar, Tarpley Brown, show yorese'f!" he cried. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence for a moment. In the moonlight the body of men looked + like a snowdrift against the jail. The same voice spoke again: + </p> + <p> + "Don't you keep us waitin' long, nuther, Tarp. You kin know what sort we + are by our grave-clothes ef you'll take the trouble to peep out o' the + winder." + </p> + <p> + "What do you-uns want?" It was the quavering voice of the jailer, from the + wing of the house occupied by him and his family. + </p> + <p> + His voice roused a sleeping infant, and it began to cry. The cry was + smothered by some one's hand over the child's mouth. + </p> + <p> + "You know what we-uns want," answered the leader. "We come after Toot + Wambush; turn 'im out, ef you know what's good fer you." + </p> + <p> + "Gentlemen, I'm a sworn officer of the law, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Drap that! Open that cell door, ur we'll put daylight through you." + </p> + <p> + This was followed by the low, pleading voice of the jailer's wife, begging + her husband to comply with the demand, and the wailing of two or three + children. + </p> + <p> + "Wait, then!" yielded the jailer. Westerfelt heard a door slam and chains + clank and rattle on the wooden floor; a bolt was slid back, the front door + opened, and the white drift parted to receive a dark form. + </p> + <p> + "Whar's my hoss?" doggedly asked Toot Wambush. + </p> + <p> + "Out thar hitched to the fence," answered the leader. + </p> + <p> + "You-uns was a hell of a time comin'," retorted Wambush. + </p> + <p> + "Had to git together; most uv us never even heerd uv yore capture tell a + hour by sun. Huh, you'd better thank yore stars we re'ched you when we + did." + </p> + <p> + The band filed out of the gate and mounted their horses. Toot Wambush was + a little in advance of the others. He suddenly turned his horse towards + the hotel. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt instinctively drew back behind the curtain, Harriet caught his + arm and clung to it. + </p> + <p> + "Go to your room!" she whispered. "You'd better; you must not stay here." + He seemed not to hear; he leaned forward and peered again through the + window. The leader and Wambush had just reined their horses in at the edge + of the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, Toot; whar you gwine?" asked the leader. + </p> + <p> + "I want to take that feller with us; I'll never budge 'thout him, you kin + bet your bottom dollar on that." + </p> + <p> + "He's bad hurt—'bout ter die; don't be a fool!" + </p> + <p> + "Huh! Doc Lash sent me word he was safe. I didn't hurt 'im; but he did me; + he damaged my feelings, and I want to pay 'im fer it. Are you fellers + goin' back on me?" + </p> + <p> + "Not this chicken," a voice muttered, and a white form whipped his horse + over to Wambush's. "I'm with you," said another. Then there was a clamor + of voices, and all the gang gathered round Wambush. He chuckled and swore + softly. "That's the stuff!" he said. "Them's Cohutta men a-talkin'; you + kin bet yore sweet life." + </p> + <p> + Harriet turned to Westerfelt. "They are drinking," she said. "Haven't you + got a pistol?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "You stay here then; don't let them see you; I'm going up-stairs and speak + to Toot from the veranda. It's the only chance. Sh!" + </p> + <p> + She did not wait for a reply, but opened the door noiselessly and went out + into the hall. He heard the rustle of her skirts as she went up the + stairs. A moment later the door leading to the veranda on the floor above + opened with a creak, and she appeared over the heads of the band. + </p> + <p> + "Toot! Toot Wambush!" she called out in a clear, steady voice. "I want to + speak to you!" + </p> + <p> + Wambush, in a spirit of bravado, had just ridden on to the veranda, and + could hear nothing above the thunderous clatter of his horse's hoofs on + the floor. + </p> + <p> + "Here, thar, you jail-bird, yore wanted!" cried out the leader. "Stop that + infernal racket!" + </p> + <p> + "What is it?" asked Wambush, riding back among his fellows. + </p> + <p> + "Toot Wambush!" Harriet repeated. + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her. "What do you want?" he asked, doggedly, after gazing + up at her steadily for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "Get away as fast as you can," she replied. "His wound has broke again. + He's bleeding to death!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's certainly good news!" Wambush did not move. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better go," she urged. "It will be wilful murder. You made the + attack. He was unarmed, and you used a pistol and a knife. Do you want to + be hung?" + </p> + <p> + He sat on his horse silent and motionless, his face upraised in the full + moonlight. There was no sound except the champing of bits, the creaking of + saddles. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, Toot," urged the leader in a low tone. "You've settled yore + man's hash; what more do you want? We've got you out o' jail, now let us + put you whar you'll be safe from the law." + </p> + <p> + Wambush had not taken his eyes from the girl. He now spoke as if his words + were meant for her only. + </p> + <p> + "If I go," he said, "will you come? Will you follow me? You know I'm not + a-goin' to leave 'thout you, Harriet." + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Westerfelt that she hesitated before speaking, and at that + moment a realization of what she had become to him and what she doubtless + was to Wambush came upon him with such stunning force that he forgot even + his peril in contemplating what seemed almost as bad as death. + </p> + <p> + "This is no time nor place to speak of such things," he heard the girl + say, finally. "Go this minute and save yourself while you can." + </p> + <p> + "Hold on, Harriet!" Wambush cried out, as she was moving away. Westerfelt + could no longer see her, and then he heard her close the door and start + down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, Toot"—the leader whipped his horse up against that of + Wambush. + </p> + <p> + Some of the others had already started away. + </p> + <p> + Toot did not move. He was still looking at the spot where Harriet Floyd + had stood. + </p> + <p> + "It simply means the halter, you blamed fool!" + </p> + <p> + Wambush stared into the mask of the speaker, and then reluctantly rode + away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII + </h2> + <p> + When Harriet returned she found Westerfelt lying face downward on the + floor. In his fall he had unconsciously clutched and torn down the + curtain, and like a shroud it lay over him. She was trying to raise him, + when the door opened and her mother appeared. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "He has fainted—I don't know, he may be dead. Look, mother!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd raised Westerfelt's head and turned his face upward. + </p> + <p> + "No, he's still breathing." She opened his shirt hastily. "His wound has + not broken; we must get him to bed again. How did he happen to be here?" + </p> + <p> + "He got up as soon as the Whitecaps came; I couldn't persuade him to go + back." + </p> + <p> + "We must carry him to the bed," said Mrs. Floyd. As they started to raise + him, Westerfelt opened his eyes, took a long breath, and sat up. Without a + word he rose to his feet, and between them was supported back to his bed. + </p> + <p> + "His feet are like ice," said Mrs. Floyd, as she tucked the blankets round + him. "Why did you let him stand there?" + </p> + <p> + "It wasn't her fault, Mrs. Floyd," explained Westerfelt, with chattering + teeth. "I knew they meant trouble, and thought I ought to be ready." + </p> + <p> + "You ought to have stayed in bed." Her eyes followed Harriet to the + fireplace. "No, daughter," she said, "go lie down; I'll stay here." + </p> + <p> + "I'd rather neither of you would sit up on my account," protested + Westerfelt; "I'm all right; I'll sleep like a log till breakfast. I don't + want to be such a bother." + </p> + <p> + "You ain't a bit of trouble," replied Mrs. Floyd, in a tone that was + almost tender. "We are only glad to be able to help. When I saw that + cowardly scamp draw his pistol and knife on you, I could 'a' killed him. + I've often told Harriet—" + </p> + <p> + "Mother, Mr. Westerfelt doesn't care to hear anything about him." Harriet + turned from the fire and abruptly left the room. Mrs. Floyd did not finish + what she had started to say. Westerfelt looked at her questioningly and + then closed his eyes. She went to the fireplace and laid a stick of wood + across the andirons, and then sat down and hooded her head with a shawl. + </p> + <p> + When Westerfelt awoke it was early dawn. The outlines of the room and the + different objects in it were indistinct. At the foot of his bed he noticed + something which resembled a heap of clothing on a chair. He looked at it + steadily, wondering if it could be part of the strange dreams which had + beset him in sleep. As the room gradually became lighter, he saw that it + was a woman. Mrs. Floyd, he thought—but no, the figure was slighter. + It was Harriet. She had taken her mother's place just before daybreak. Her + head hung down, but she was not asleep. Presently she looked up, and + catching his eyes, rose and came to him. + </p> + <p> + "How do you feel now?" She touched his forehead with her soft, cool hand. + </p> + <p> + "I'm all right; I'll be up to breakfast." + </p> + <p> + "No, you won't; you must not; it would kill you." + </p> + <p> + "Pshaw! That pin-scratch?" He playfully struck his breast near the wound. + "He'd have to cut deeper and rip wider to do me up." + </p> + <p> + She stifled a cry and caught his hand. + </p> + <p> + "You must not be so foolish." She started to turn away, but his fingers + closed over hers. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sorry. I'll mind what you say, because you've been so good to me. It + seems mighty queer—Toot Wambush's girl takin' care of the very man + he tried to wipe off of the face of creation. No wonder he—" + </p> + <p> + She twisted her hand from his clasp. "Why do you say <i>I'm his girl</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "Because they all do, I reckon; ain't you? Last night I heard him ask you + to follow him." + </p> + <p> + "You never heard me say I would, did you?" + </p> + <p> + "No, but—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, then!" She went to the fireplace. He could not see her, but heard + her stirring the fire with a poker, and wondered if her movement was that + of anger or agitation, For several minutes neither of them spoke; then she + came to him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + "I forgot," she said; "here's a newspaper and a letter. Will Washburn left + them for you." She gave them to him and went to the window and raised the + shade, flooding the room with the soft yellowing light from the east. Then + she resumed her seat at the fire. + </p> + <p> + He opened his letter. The handwriting was very crude, and he did not + remember having seen it before. Looking at the bottom of the last page, he + saw that it was signed by Sue Dawson—Sally Dawson's mother. It was + not dated, and began without heading of any kind. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + "So you left this place fur new pastures. But I Will be sworn you went off + cause you could not see the sun ashinin on my Childs grave nor meet her + old broke down mother face to face. I have wanted to meet you ever since + she died, but I helt in. The reason I sent you word not to come to the + Funeral was cause I knowed ef I saw you thar I would jump right up before + the people and drag you with yore yaller Pumpkin face full of gilt right + up to her Box an make you look at yore work. It was not out of respect fur + yore feelings that I did not, nuther, fur I dont respect you as much as I + do a decent egg-suckin dog, but I was afraid folks would suspicion the + pore Child's secret, the secret that me an you an nobody else knows, that + she took her own life to git out of the misery you put her in. She did not + want them to know, an they shall not; besides, thar are Folks in this + cussed Settlement mean enough to begrudge her the grave Lot she has becase + of what she was driv to. + </p> + <p> + "Thar is one thing I want you to stop. I dont want you to hire Peter + Slogan with Blood money, nur nobody else, to haul wood fur me. I knowed + you did send a load, fur he is too lazy to think of anybody but hisself + without thar was money in it. I accused him of it after I had toted the + last Stick back to yore land whar he got it. He tried to deny it, but I + saw the lie in his face an shamed it. Dont you bother about me. I will + live a powerful sight longer than you want me to before I am through with + You. You will never forgit how Sally died, ef you did not look at her pore + little face in death nur help the neighbors fill her grave up. + </p> + <p> + "John Westerfelt, you killed my Child as deliberately as ef you had choked + the life out of her with yore Bare hands. You hung after her night and + Day, even after she had been cautioned that you was fickle, an then when + you got her whole soul an hart you deliberately left her an begun flyin + around Liz Lithicum. I know yore sort. It is the runnin after a thing that + amuses you, an as soon as you get it you turn agin it an spurn it under + foot an laugh at it when it strugles in pain. Lawsy me. God Almighty dont + inflict good men with that Disease, but you will have it nawin at yore + Hart tel you run across some huzzy that will rule you her way. Beware, + John Westerfelt, you will want to marry before long; you are a lonely, + selfish Man, an you will want a wife an childern to keep you company an + make you forget yore evil ways, but it is my constant prayer that you will + never git one that loves you. I am prayin for that very thing and I + believe it will come. John Westerfelt, I am yore Enemy—I am that ef + it drags me into the Scorchin flames of hell. + </p> + <h3> + "SUE DAWSON." + </h3> + <p> + He refolded the letter, put it with quivering fingers back into its + envelope, and then opened the newspaper and held it before his eyes. There + was a clatter of dishes and pans in the back part of the house. A negro + woman was out in the wood-yard, picking up chips and singing a low + camp-meeting hymn. Now and then some one would tramp over the resounding + floor, through the hall to the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Harriet went to the door and closed it. Then she turned to him. The paper + had slipped from his fingers and lay across his breast. + </p> + <p> + "What shall I get for your breakfast?" she asked. She moved round on the + other side of the bed, wondering if it was the yellow morning light or his + physical weakness that gave his face such a depressed, ghastly look. + </p> + <p> + "What did you say?" He stared at her absently. + </p> + <p> + "What would you like for breakfast?" + </p> + <p> + He looked towards his coat that hung on the foot of his bed. + </p> + <p> + "Don't bother about me; I'm going to get up." + </p> + <p> + "No, you must not." She caught his wrist. "Look how you are quivering; you + ought not to have tried to read." + </p> + <p> + He raised the paper again, but it shook so that its rustling might have + been heard across the room. She took it from him, and laid it on a chair + by the bed. She looked away; the corners of his mouth were drawn down + piteously and his lips were twitching. + </p> + <p> + "Please hand me my coat," he said. + </p> + <p> + "You are not going to get up?" She sat down on the bed and put her hand on + his brow. Her face was soft and pleading. It held a sweetness, a womanly + strength he longed to lean upon. + </p> + <p> + He caught her hand and held it nervously. + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe I've got a single friend on earth," he said. "I don't + deserve any; I'm a bad man." + </p> + <p> + "Don't talk that way," she replied. There was something in his plaintive + tone that seemed to touch her deeply, for she took his hand in both of + hers and pressed it. + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to die, for your sake," he said, "for if I was to go under, + it would be awkward for your—your friend. He might really have to + swing for it." + </p> + <p> + She released his hand suddenly, a pained look in her face. "Did you want + to put your letter in your coat pocket?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + She took the coat from a chair, gave it to him, and then went back to the + fireplace. He thrust his hand into the pocket and took out Sally Dawson's + last letter, and put it and her mother's into the same envelope. As he was + putting them away he found in the same pocket a folded sheet of paper. He + opened it. It was a letter from John Wambush to his son Toot. Then + Westerfelt remembered the paper Harriet had picked up and given him in the + street after the fight. Hardly knowing why he did so, he read it. It was + as follows: + </p> + <p> + "DEAR TOOT,—Me an yore mother is miserable about you. We have prayed + for yore reform day and night, but the Lord seems to have turned a deef + ear to our petitions. We hardly ever see you now an we are afraid you are + goin to git into serious trouble. We want you to give up moonshinin, quit + drinkin an settle down. We both think if you would jest git you a good + wife you would act better. I wish you would go an marry that girl at the + hotel—you know who I mean. I am as sorry for her as I ever was for + anybody, for she dont think you love her much. She told me all about it + the night the revenue men give you sech a close shave. I was standin on + the hotel porch when you driv the wagon up with the whiskey barrel on it + an I heerd them a-lopin along the road after you. I thought it was all up + with you for I knowed they could go faster than you. Then I seed her run + out on the back porch an help you roll the whiskey in the kitchen an close + the door. An when the officers com up you was a-settin on the empty wagon + talkin to her as if nothin had happened. I heard all the lies she told em + about seein another wagon go whizzin down the road an I thought it was a + great pity for her to do it, but she was doin it for a man she loved an I + wouldent hold that agin her. A woman that loves as hard as she does would + do a sight wuss than that if it was necessary. After you loaded the + whiskey back on the wagon and got away to the woods, I went round an told + her what I had seed an she bust out cryin an throwed her arms round my + neck an said she loved you better than she did her own life an that she + never would love any other man as long as breeth was in her body. Son, + that night she come as nigh beggin me to git you to marry her as a proud + girl could, an when I left I promised her I would talk to you about it. + She's a good girl, Toot, and it would make a man of you to marry her. I + like her mighty well an so does yore mother. Please do come out home soon. + It looks like a pity for you to be away so much when it worries yore ma + like it does. + </p> + <p> + "Yore affectionate father, + </p> + <h3> + "JOHN WAMBUSH." + </h3> + <p> + Westerfelt folded the letter deliberately, and then in a sudden spasm of + jealous despair he crumpled it in his hand. He turned his head on the side + and pressed down his pillow that he might see Harriet as she sat by the + fire. The red firelight shone in her face. She looked tired and troubled. + </p> + <p> + "Poor girl!" he murmured. "Poor girl! Oh, God, have mercy on me! She loves + him—she loves him!" + </p> + <p> + She looked up and caught his eyes. "Did you want anything?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + He gave the letter to her. "Burn it, please. I wish I had not read it." + </p> + <p> + She took it to the fire. The light of the blazing paper flashed on the + walls, and then went out. + </p> + <p> + He remained so silent that she thought he was sleeping, but when she rose + to leave the room she caught his glance, so full of dumb misery that her + heart sank. She went to her mother in the kitchen. Mrs. Floyd was + polishing a pile of knives and forks, and did not look up until Harriet + spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," she said, "I am afraid something has gone wrong with Mr. + Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" asked the old lady in alarm. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, but he got a letter this morning, and after he read it he + seemed changed and out of heart. He gave it to me to burn, and I never saw + such a desperate look on a human face. I know it was the letter, because + before he read it he was so—so different." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Mrs. Floyd, "it may be only some business matter that's + troubling him. Men have all sorts of things to worry about. As for me, + I've made a discovery, Harriet, at least I think I have." + </p> + <p> + "Why, mother!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd put the knives and forks into the knife-box. + </p> + <p> + "Hettie Fergusson was here just now," she said. + </p> + <p> + "This early!" exclaimed Harriet, incredulously. "Why, mother, where did + she spend the night?" + </p> + <p> + "At home; that's the curious part about it; she has walked all that three + miles since daylight, if she didn't get up before and start through the + dark. I never could understand that girl. All the time she was working + here she puzzled me. She was so absent-minded, and would jump and scream + almost when the door would open. I am glad we didn't need her help any + longer. Sometimes I wish she had never come to the hotel." + </p> + <p> + Harriet stared wonderingly at her mother; then she said: + </p> + <p> + "Did she want to help us again?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd laughed significantly. + </p> + <p> + "That's what she pretended she wanted, but she didn't have no more idea of + working here than I have of flying through the air at this minute. + Harriet, she is dead crazy in love with Toot Wambush. That is the truth + about it." + </p> + <p> + "Why, mother, I can't believe it!" cried Harriet, her brow wrinkling in + perplexity. "He hardly ever went with her or talked to her." + </p> + <p> + "He took her out home with him in a buggy six or seven times to my + knowledge," declared Mrs. Floyd, "and there's no telling how often he saw + her at home. He is awfully thick with her father. I never was fooled in a + woman; she is in love with him, and right now she is worried to death + about him. She couldn't hide her anxiety, and asked a good many + round-about questions about where he was gone to, and if we knew whether + the sheriff was hunting for him now, and if we thought Mr. Westerfelt + would prosecute him." + </p> + <p> + Harriet laughed. "Well, I never dreamt there was a thing between those + two. When he asked her to go with him in his buggy out home, I thought it + was because she lived on the road to his father's, and that he just did it + to accommodate her, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I've no doubt that is what <i>he</i> did it for, darling, but she was + falling in love with him all the time, and now that he is in trouble, she + can't hide it. Do you know her conduct this morning has set me to + thinking? The night you and I spent over at Joe Long's I heard Wambush + came very near being arrested with a barrel of whiskey he was taking to + town, and that he managed to throw the officers off his track while he was + talking to Hettie in our back yard. Do you know it ain't a bit unlikely + that she helped him play that trick somehow? They say he was laughing down + at the store after that about how he gave them the slip. I'll bet she + helped him." + </p> + <p> + "If she is in love with him she did, I reckon," returned Harriet, wisely. + "I wish he was in love with her. He is getting entirely too troublesome." + </p> + <p> + "He'll never care a snap for her as long as you are alive," retorted the + old lady. "I'm sorry now that I ever let you go with him so much. He seems + to be getting more and more determined to make you marry him whether or + no. He is jealous of Mr. Westerfelt." Mrs. Floyd lowered her voice. "If he + hadn't been, he wouldn't have fought him as he did. That is at the bottom + of it, daughter, and now that he is a regular outlaw I am awfully uneasy. + If I ever get a chance, I'm going to convince him that it is useless for + him to worry you as he does. I'd rather see you in your grave than married + to a man like that." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX + </h2> + <p> + It was a week before John Westerfelt was strong enough to leave his room + in the hotel. Inflammation of his wound had set in, and at one time his + condition was thought to be quite critical. + </p> + <p> + One day Luke Bradley came in his buggy to drive him out to his house. + </p> + <p> + "Marthy won't heer to a refusal," he said. "She's powerful' troubled. She + 'lowed ef we'd 'a' made you stay with us you'd not 'a' been apt to 'a' met + Wambush that day, an' 'a' been laid up like this. She's jest dyin' to git + to cook things fer you an' doctor you up." + </p> + <p> + "I'll go and stay a day, anyway," promised Westerfelt. He glanced at + Harriet Floyd, who stood behind the curtains looking out of the window. "I + don't need any finer treatment than I've had, Luke. Miss Harriet's been + better than a sister to me. She saved my life the other night, too. If she + hadn't interfered that gang would have nabbed me as sure as preaching, and + I was unarmed and too weak to stand rough handling." + </p> + <p> + Harriet came from the window. She took the roll of blankets that Bradley + had brought and held one of them before the fire. + </p> + <p> + "It's chilly out to-day," she said. "You'd better wrap him up well, Mr. + Bradley." + </p> + <p> + Bradley did not reply. He heard a noise outside, and went out hastily to + see if his horse was standing where he had left him. Westerfelt dragged + himself from his chair and stood in front of the fire. He had grown + thinner during his confinement, and his clothes hung loosely on him. + </p> + <p> + "You have been good to me," he repeated, in a low tone, "and I wish I + could do something to pay you back." She said nothing. She bent over and + felt the blanket to see if it were scorching, and then turned the other + side to the fire. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Bradley is a fine nurse," she said, presently. "She'll take good + care of you. Besides, she has a better claim on you than we—mother + and I—have; she has known you longer." + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you the truth," he answered, after studying her face for a + moment in silence. "I'd really be willing to get hurt over again for an + excuse to live here like I have. I am the loneliest man that was ever born—lonely + is no name for it. In the dead hours of the night I suffer agonies—you + see, I am not a good sleeper. I have been as near insanity as any man that + ever lived out of an asylum. But I have been mighty nearly free from all + that since you began to nurse me. I wish to God it could go on forever—forever, + do you understand?—but it can't—it can't. I have my troubles + and you have yours—that is," he added, quickly, as she shot a sudden + glance of inquiry at him, "I reckon you have troubles, most girls do." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I have my troubles, Mr. Westerfelt," she said, simply. "Sometimes I + think I cannot bear mine, but I do." + </p> + <p> + He said nothing, but his eyes were upon her almost with a look of fear. + Was she about to tell him frankly of her love for Wambush? + </p> + <p> + She rolled up one of the blankets and put it on the rug in front of the + fire, and held up another to be warmed. He thought he had never seen a + face so full of sweet, suffering tenderness. His heart bounded suddenly + with a thought so full of joy that he could hardly breathe. She had driven + the outlaw from her heart and already loved him; she had learned to love + him since he had been there. He could see it, feel it in her every tender + word and act, and he—God knew he loved her—loved her with his + whole wearied soul. Then the thought of her appeal to old John Wambush and + the lies she had told that night to save her lover struck him like a blow + in the face, and he felt himself turning cold all over in the embrace of + utter despair. "No, no, no!" he said, in his heart, "she's not for me! I + could never forget that—never! I've always felt that the woman I + loved must never have loved before, and Wambush—ugh!" + </p> + <p> + She raised her great eyes to his in the mellow firelight, and then, as if + puzzled by his expression, calmly studied his face. + </p> + <p> + "You are not going back to that room over the stable, are you?" she + questioned. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, to-morrow night." + </p> + <p> + "Don't do it—it is not comfortable; it is awfully roomy and bare and + cold." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I am used to that. Many a time I've slept out in the open air on a + frosty night, with nothing round me but a blanket." + </p> + <p> + "You could occupy this room whenever it suited you; it is seldom used. I + heard mother say yesterday that she wished you would." + </p> + <p> + "I'd better stay there," he answered, moved again by her irresistible + solicitude, and that other thing in her tone to which he had laid claim + and hugged to his bruised heart. He felt an almost uncontrollable desire + to raise her in his arms, to unbosom his anguish to her, and propose that + they both fight their battles of forgetfulness side by side, but he shrank + from it. The thought of Wambush was again upon him like some rasping + soul-irritant. + </p> + <p> + "No, no; I'm going back to the stable," he said, fiercely. "I will not + stay here any longer—not a day longer!" + </p> + <p> + He saw her start, and then she put down the blanket and stood up. "I do + not understand you at all, sometimes" she faltered, "not at all." + </p> + <p> + "But I understand you, God knows," he returned, bitterly. "Harriet, + little, suffering, wronged woman, I know something about you. I know what + has been worrying you so much since I came here." + </p> + <p> + She started and an awful look crept into her face. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, do you?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I know it—that's enough now; let's agree never again to speak + of it. I don't want to talk about it, and I reckon you don't. Anyway, it + can't be helped." + </p> + <p> + "No, it can't be helped." Her lips began to twitch and quiver, and her + eyes went down. + </p> + <p> + "I understand it all now," she added. "And I don't blame you. I told + mother yesterday that I thought you might suspect—" + </p> + <p> + "Your mother knows then?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, of course," raising her eyes in surprise. + </p> + <p> + For a moment they were silent. Westerfelt leaned against the mantel-piece; + he had never felt such utter despair. It was like being slowly tortured to + death to hear her speaking so frankly of the thing which he had never been + able to contemplate with calmness. + </p> + <p> + "So you see now that I'd better go back to the stable, don't you?" he + asked, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose so," she said. "I suppose you mean that—" but she was + unable to formulate what lay in her confused mind. Besides, Luke Bradley + was coming in. They heard his heavy tread on the veranda. + </p> + <p> + "Well, come on, John, ef you are ready," he called out. "That blamed nag + o' mine won't stand still a minute." + </p> + <p> + When Westerfelt had been driven away, and Harriet had watched him out of + sight down the road, she came back to the fire and sat down in the chair + Westerfelt had used during his convalescence. She kept her eyes fixed on + the coals till her mother entered the room. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon he thought funny that I didn't come in to tell him good-bye," + she said, with a knowing little laugh; "but I'll be bound he was glad I + didn't. Even Mr. Bradley had the good sense to go outside." + </p> + <p> + "Mother, what are you talking about?" + </p> + <p> + "You know mighty well what I mean," returned Mrs. Floyd, with a smile. "I + know Mr. Westerfelt is dead in love with you, and goodness knows you + couldn't fool me about how you feel if you tried. I was a girl once." + </p> + <p> + "Mother," said Harriet, "I never want you to mention him to me again," and + she put her hands over her face and began to cry softly. + </p> + <p> + "Why, what is the matter, dear?" the old woman sat down near her daughter, + now alarmed by her conduct. Harriet stared her mother in the face. "He + knows all about it, mother—he knows I am not your child, that nobody + knows where I came from. Oh, mother, I can't stand it—I simply + cannot. I wanted him to know, and yet when he told me he knew, it nearly + killed me." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd turned pale. "There must be some mistake," she said; "no one + here knows it—and only one or two up in Tennessee." + </p> + <p> + "There is no mistake," sighed the girl. "He told me the other day that he + had relatives in Tennessee. Oh, mother, more people know it than you + think. I have always felt that they knew. So many have noticed that you + and I do not look alike." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd's eyes were moist and her face was wrung with sympathy. She put + her arms around the girl and drew her to her breast. "I ought never to + have told you," she said; "but the lawyers knew it, and when your papa's + estate was wound up it had to be told to a few. I thought you would soon + forget it, but you have never stopped thinking about it. You are entirely + too sensitive, too—" + </p> + <p> + "Mother, you don't know anything about it," said Harriet. "When you told + me I was not your child I actually prayed to die. It has been the only + real trouble I ever had. I never see poor, worthless people without + thinking that I may be closely related to them, and since Mr. Westerfelt + has been here and told me about his aristocratic relatives and his old + family, I have been more unhappy than ever. I was going to tell him some + day, but he saved me the trouble." + </p> + <p> + "I can't imagine how he knew it," gave in Mrs. Floyd, thoughtfully. + "Perhaps he has had some dealings with our lawyers, though they promised + not to speak of it. I thought when we moved down here among strangers + you'd quit troubling about that. You know you are as good as anybody else, + so what is the good of worrying? You make me very unhappy, Harriet. I feel + almost as if I did wrong to bring you up. But you know I love you just the + same as if you was my own child, don't you?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, and I love you as if you were my own mother. I love you more, too, + when I am in trouble, though I reckon I don't show it; but, mother, I am + dying to know something about my own flesh and blood. I'd rather know that + my blood was good than have all the wealth of the earth. You have let + enough out to show me that I must have had very, very poor parents." + </p> + <p> + "I simply said that when they left you at my house you had on rather cheap + clothing, but you know that was just after the war, when nobody could + dress their children much." + </p> + <p> + "But they deserted me," said Harriet; "they could not have been very + honorable. I reckon Mr. Westerfelt knows all about it." + </p> + <p> + "Well, he won't think any the less of you if he does," said Mrs. Floyd. + "He looks like a born gentleman to me. You will never see a man like him + turning against a girl for something she can't help. You ought not to say + your parents were not honorable; they may have left you, thinking it would + be best for you. We were considered pretty well off then." + </p> + <p> + Harriet made no reply for several minutes, and then she said: + </p> + <p> + "I think Mr. Westerfelt is the best man I ever knew, but he must be like + his father some, and he told me that his father, who was a captain in the + army, refused to ever see his daughter again who married the son of his + overseer. She moved to Texas, and died out there. Mother, the legitimate + daughter of an overseer would stand higher in any Southern community than—" + At this point a sob broke in her voice, and the girl could go no further. + Mrs. Floyd rose and kissed her on the cheek. "I see," she said, "that as + long as you keep talking about this you will search and search for + something to worry about. I'm glad Mr. Westerfelt knows about it, though, + for he would have to be told some day, and now he knows what to count on. + I'll bet you anything he keeps on loving you, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, mother," broke in Harriet, "I don't think he lo—cares that much + for me; I really do not." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X + </h2> + <p> + "By George!" exclaimed Bradley, as they drove away, "you certainly lit on + your feet when you struck that house. It looks like it 'ud pay you to git + stabbed every day in the week; it's paid the community, the Lord knows, + fer it is shet of the biggest dare-devil that wus ever in it. The ol' lady + seems to have about as bad a case on you as the gal. I've been thar a time + or two to ax about you, an' I never seed the like o' stirrin' round fixin' + things they 'lowed would suit yore taste." + </p> + <p> + "They have been mighty good to me, indeed," answered the young man, + simply. "I don't think I could have had such thoughtful attention, even at + home." + </p> + <p> + "I don't like fer anything to puzzle me," said Luke, with a little laugh, + "an' I'll swear Miss Harriet's a riddle. I would a-swore on the stand a + week ago that she wus as big a fool about Wambush as a woman kin git to + be, but now—well, I reckon she's jest like the rest. Let the feller + they keer fer git a black eye an' have bad luck, an' they'll sidle up to + the fust good-lookin' cuss they come across. A man that reads novels to + git his marryin' knowledge frum is in pore business; besides the book + hain't writ that could explain a woman unless it is the Great Book, an' it + wouldn't fit no woman o' this day an' time." + </p> + <p> + "You think, then, Luke," said Westerfelt, "that a good woman—a real + good woman—could love twice in—in a short space of time?" + </p> + <p> + "Gewhillikins! What a question; they kin love a hundred times before you + kin say Jack Robinson with yore mouth open. When you git married, John, + you must make up your mind that yo're marryin' fer some'n else besides + dern foolishness. The Bible says the prime intention of the business wus + to increase an' multiply; ef you an' yore wife ever git to multiplyin', + you an' her won't find much time to suck thumbs an' talk love an' pick + flowers an' press 'em in books an' the like. Folks may say what they damn + please about women lovin' the most; it's the feller mighty nigh ever' + whack that acts the fool. I was plumb crazy about Marthy, an' used to be + afeerd she wus so fur gone on me that she wouldn't take a sufficient + supply o' victuals to keep up 'er strength. That wus when I was courtin' + of 'er an' losin' sleep, an' one thing or other. After we wus married, + though, me an' 'er mother come to words one day about a shoat pig she + claimed had her mark on its yeer an' was penned up with mine, an' she up + an' told me out o' spite that the very night before me 'n' Marthy got + married, Ward Billingsley wus thar at the house tryin' to get 'er to run + off with him, an' that Marthy come as nigh as pease a-doin' of it. Her maw + said she'd a-gone as shore as preachin' ef she'd a-had a dress fitten to + take the trip on the train in. I reckon it wus every word the truth, fer + to this day Marthy won't deny it; but it don't make a bit of difference to + me now. Marthy would a-done as well by Ward as she did by me, I reckon. + When women once git married they come down to hard-pan like a kickin' mule + when it gits broke to traces." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt drew the blankets closer about him. The road had taken a sharp + turn round the side of a little hill, and the breeze from the wide reach + of level valley lands was keen and piercing. Bradley's volubility jarred + on him. It brought an obnoxious person back, and roughly, into the warm + memory of Harriet Floyd's presence, and gentle, selfless tenderness. He + ground his teeth in agony. He had just been debating in his mind the + possibility of his being, in consideration of his own mistakes, able to + take the girl, in her new love, into his heart and hold her there forever, + but if she loved Wambush, as, of course, she once did, might she not later + love some other man—or might she not even think—remember—Wambush? + </p> + <p> + "Great God!" He uttered the words aloud, and Bradley turned upon him in + surprise. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing," said Westerfelt; "my wound twinged just a little, that is all." + </p> + <p> + "I was driving too fast over these rocks anyway," said Bradley, + solicitously. + </p> + <p> + The horse stopped at a clear mountain stream that leaped in a succession + of waterfalls down the sheer hill-side into the valley. Bradley got out to + loosen the bridle to allow the animal to drink, and stood with one foot on + the shore and the other on a brown stone in the water. Try as he would, + Westerfelt could not banish Harriet from his mind. Her sweet personality + seemed to be trying to defend itself against the unworthy thoughts which + fought for supremacy in his mind. He thought of her wonderful care of him + in his illness; her unfailing tenderness and sympathy when he was + suffering; her tears—yes, he was sure he had detected tears in her + eyes one day when the doctor was giving him unusual pain in dressing his + wound. Ah, how sweet that was to remember! and yet the same creature had + loved a man no higher than Wambush; had even sobbed out a confession of + her love in the arms of his father. Such was the woman, but he loved her + with the first real love of his life. + </p> + <p> + The next day but one, Westerfelt, feeling sufficiently strong, was driven + by Washburn down to the livery-stable, where he sat in the warm sunshine + against the side of the house. While sitting there watching the roads + which led down to the village from the mountains, he was surprised to see + Peter Slogan ride up on his bony bay horse and alight. + </p> + <p> + "Howdy' do, John?" he said. "I wus jest passin' on my way home an' thought + I'd halt an' ax about that cut o' yore'n." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'm doing pretty well, Peter," answered Westerfelt, as he extended + his hand without rising. "But I didn't know that you ever got this far + from home." + </p> + <p> + "Hain't once before, since I went to fight the Yanks," grinned Slogan. + "Seems to me I've rid four hundred an' forty-two miles on that churndasher + thar. My legs is one solid sore streak from my heels up, an' now it's + beginnin' to attact my spine-bone. I'm too ol' an' stiff to bear down + right in the stirrups, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "What has brought you over here?" asked Westerfelt, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Slogan took out his clay pipe with its cane stem and knocked it on the + heel of his boot, then he put it into his mouth and blew through it till + the liquid nicotine cracked audibly. "I've been huntin'," he said, dryly. + "In my day an' time I've been on all sorts o' hunts, from bear an' deer + down to yaller-hammers, but I waited till I wus in my sixty-fifth year—goin' + on sixty-six—'fore I started out huntin' fer a dad-blasted woman." + </p> + <p> + "A woman!" exclaimed the listener. + </p> + <p> + "You could guess who it wus ef you'd make a stab ur two at it," Slogan + made answer, as he scratched a match and began to smoke. "Day before + yesterday Clariss' went out in the yard to rake up a apron o' chips, an' + happened to take notice that thar wusn't a sign o' smoke comin' out o' the + old woman's chimney. It was cold enough to freeze hard boiled eggs, an' + she 'lowed some'n had gone wrong down at the cabin, so she run in whar I + wus, skeerd into kinniptions. 'Mr. Slogan,' sez she, 'I believe sister's + friz in 'er bed, ur dropped off sudden, fer as shore as yore a-smokin' in + that cheer, thar ain't a speck o' fire in 'er chimney.' Well, I wus in my + stockin' feet, like I ginerally am when I want to take it easy before a + fire on a cold day, an' I slid my feet into my shoes as quick as I could + an' went out an' took a look. Shore enough, thar wusn't a bit o' smoke + about the cabin. So I tol' Clariss' to run down an' see what wus wrong, + but she wouldn't budge out o' her tracks. You see, she ain't never felt + right about the way she used to do the old woman, an' I reckon she wus + afeerd her dead body would do a sight more accusin'—I dunno, she + wouldn't go a step fer some reason ur other, but she stood thar twistin' + 'er hands an' cryin' an' beggin' me to do her duty. I tol' 'er the last + time I wus thar the ol' huzzy wouldn't so much as notice me, an' that I'd + had 'nough trouble lookin' atter my own pore kin without galivantin' about + atter my kin by a' unfortunate marriage, but nothin' would do 'er but fer + me to go, so I did, an' found the old woman had run clean off. Well, when + I told Clariss' that, she mighty nigh had a fit. She swore she had driv + her sister desperate by her conduct in the past an' that 'er body would be + found as stiff as a bar o' iron in the woods some'rs whar she wus tryin' + to keep warm. So the long an' short of it wus that me 'n' my hoss had to + start out." + </p> + <p> + "And you have found her?" asked the young man, now thoroughly concerned. + </p> + <p> + "You bet I did, after scourin' the entire face of creation. I traced 'er + frum one old acquaintance to another, till last night I run up on 'er over + at Bill Wyman's, ten miles down the valley. It was ten o'clock when I got + thar, an' as cold as a cake o' ice in the small o' yore back. I called + Bill out in his shift on the porch. I was mighty nigh friz, an' I reckon + he soon got that away, fer he kept dancin' about fust on one foot an' then + on another, while we talked. He admitted she wus thar, but he wouldn't let + me stay all night, although I offered to plank down the usual price fer + man an' beast. She'd been talkin' to him, I could see that, fer he up an' + said some'n about folks bein' churched in his settlement fer the + mistreatment o' widows, but he'd admit, he said, that he wusn't posted on + the manners an' customs uv all the places over beyant the mount'in; he + reckoned the nigher people got to the railroad the furder they wus from + the cross. I tried to reason with 'im, but he said ef I wanted to argue my + case, I'd better come round in the summer. + </p> + <p> + "Thar wusn't any other house nigher'n six miles, an' so I made me a fire + in a little cove by the road, an' set over it an' thought, mostly about + women, all night. I've heerd preachers say a man oughtn't to think too + much about women anyway, but I reckon I backslid last night, fer I thought + hard about mighty nigh ever' woman I ever seed or heerd of." + </p> + <p> + "How has Mrs. Dawson been getting on since I left?" ventured Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "Just about as bad as she knowed how, I reckon, John. After you left, she + seemed to take 'er spite out on Lizzie Lithicum. Liz never could pass + anywhar nigh 'er without havin' the old cat laugh out loud at 'er. Liz has + been goin' with that cock-eyed Joe Webb a good deal—you know he's + jest about the porest ketch anywhars about, an' that seemed to tickle Mis' + Dawson mightily. I reckon somebody told 'er some'n Liz said away back when + you fust started to fly around 'er. I axed Clem Dill ef he knowed anything + about it, an' Clem 'lowed Liz had kind o' made fun o' Sally about you + gittin' tired uv 'er, an' one thing ur other. I dunno; I cayn't keep up + with sech things. I jest try to find 'em out once in awhile because + Clariss' is sech a hand to want to know. When she gits to rantin' about + anythin' I've done—ur hain't done—all I got to do to shet 'er + up is to start to tell 'er some'n somebody's has said about somebody else, + an' she gits 'er cheer. So I try to keep a stock o' things on hand. Clem + Dill's afeerd o' Mis' Dawson now. I was in the store one day about a week + ago, an' she come in to swap a pair o' wool socks she had knit fer coffee, + an' Clem 'lowed, jest to pass the time, while he wus at the scales, he'd + ax 'er what ailed her an' Lizzie, anyway. But I reckon Clem has quit axin' + fool questions, fer she turned on 'im like a tiger-cat. Sez she: + </p> + <p> + "'Liz Lithicum dared to say my child made a fool o' herse'f about John + Westerfelt. That's exactly what Liz an' other folks sez about yore wife. I + don't see what right you have to ax me sech a question.' Well, sir, Clem + was so much set back 'at he couldn't hardly speak, an' he spilled a scoop + o' coffee on the counter 'fore he could get it into the old woman's poke. + After she had gone out, laughin' in her sneakin' way, Clem come back whar + I wus at by the stove an' set down an' spit about two dozen times. Arter + 'while he axed me ef I'd ever heerd the talk about his wife, an' I eased + him all I could, but, lawsy me, you ort ter see 'im hop up an' bow an' + scrape when old Sue comes in the store now. Clem ain't a jealous man—I + reckon he's been married too long for that. In my courtin' days I used to + be jealous actually of Clariss's own daddy, but now I make a habit o' + invitin' the preacher to our house every third Sunday so I kin git a + decent meal an' set an' smoke in the kitchen. John, you don't seem to be + any nigher marryin' now than you wus awhile back." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt smiled, but made no reply. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you'd better keep on a-thinkin' it over," counselled Slogan, as he + took the saddle and blanket from his horse and examined a rubbed spot on + the animal's back; "thar's a heap more fun marryin' in a body's mind than + before a preacher; the law don't allow a feller but one sort of a wife, + but a single man kin live alone, an' fancy he's got any kind he wants, an' + then she won't be eternally a-yellin' to 'im to fetch in fire-wood. A + young feller kin make a woman a sight more perfect than the Creator ever + did, an' He's had a sight o' practice. I reckon the Lord made 'em like + they are to keep men humble and contrite an' to show up to advantage His + best work on t'other shore. But so long, John, I must be goin'." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI + </h2> + <p> + It was a dark night two weeks later. Westerfelt, quite recovered from his + illness, was returning from a long ride through the mountains, where he + had been in search of a horse that had strayed from the stable. + </p> + <p> + The road along the mountain-side was narrow and difficult to follow. At + times he was obliged to ascend places so steep that he had to hold to the + mane of his horse to keep from falling off. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of a mountain about two miles from Cartwright, he heard voices + ahead of him. He stopped, peered through the foliage, and, a few paces + farther on, saw a wagon containing a couple of barrels. Near it stood two + men in slouched hats and jeans clothing. + </p> + <p> + "Thought shore I heerd some'n," said one of them. + </p> + <p> + "Which away?" asked the other. + </p> + <p> + "Sounded to me like a hoss up on the mount'in." + </p> + <p> + There was a silence for a moment, then the first voice said: + </p> + <p> + "No, not that away. Listen! It's somebody comin' up the road on foot. I + reckon it's a friend, but I don't take no resks." + </p> + <p> + The two men stepped quickly to the wagon and took out a couple of rifles. + Then they stood motionless behind the wagon and horse. Westerfelt heard + the regular step of some one coming up the road. + </p> + <p> + "Hello thar!" cried one of the men at the wagon. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" was the answer. + </p> + <p> + "Stand in yore tracks! What's the password?" + </p> + <p> + "Joe Dill's good 'nough pass-word fer me; I don't try to keep up with all + the pop-doodle you fellers git up." + </p> + <p> + "Joe Dill will do in this case, bein' as yore a good liquor customer. + What'll you have, Joseph?" + </p> + <p> + "A gallon o' mash—this jug jest holds that amount up to the neck. + Gi'me a swallow in a cup, I'm as dry as powder. What do you-uns mean by + bein' in the business ef you cayn't send out a load oftener'n this? I'll + start to 'stillin' myse'f. I know how the dang truck's made; nothin' but + corn-meal an' water left standin' till it rots, an'—" + </p> + <p> + "Revenue men's as thick through heer as flies in summer-time," broke in + the man at the faucet. "Sh! what's that?" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt's horse had stepped on a dry twig. There was silence for a + moment, then Dill laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + "Nothin' but a acorn drappin'. You fellers is afeerd o' yore shadders; + what does the gang mean by sendin' out sech white-livered chaps?" The only + sound for a moment was the gurgling of the whiskey as it ran into the jug. + "How's Toot like his isolation?" concluded Dill, grunting as he lifted the + jug down from the wagon. + </p> + <p> + "It's made a wuss devil 'n ever out'n 'im," was the answer. "He don't do a + blessed thing now but plot an' plan fer revenge. He's beginnin' to think + that hotel gal's gone back on 'im an' tuk to likin' the feller he fit that + day. My Lord, that man'll see the day he'll wish he'd never laid eyes on + Wambush." + </p> + <p> + "I hain't in entire sympathy with Toot." It was Dill's voice. "That is to + say, not entire!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't say so, ef you know what's good fer you." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's a free country, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you believe it!" + </p> + <p> + "What's Toot gwine to do?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, but he'll hatch out some'n." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt's horse had been standing on the side of a little slope, and + the soft earth suddenly gave way beneath his hind feet, and in regaining a + firm footing he made a considerable noise. There was nothing now for + Westerfelt to do but to put a bold face on the matter. + </p> + <p> + "Get up," he said, guiding his horse down towards the men. + </p> + <p> + "Halt!" commanded one of the moonshiners. All three of them were now + huddled behind the wagon. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" answered Westerfelt, drawing rein; "I'm lookin' for an iron gray, + flea-bitten horse that strayed away from the livery-stable this morning; + have you fellows seen anything of him?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I hain't." This in a dogged tone from a slouched hat just above a + whiskey barrel. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think anybody could have taken him," continued Westerfelt, + pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + "Hain't seed 'im." The speaker struck the wagon-bed with his rifle as he + was trying to put it down behind the barrels without being seen. + </p> + <p> + "The left hand road leads to town, I believe?" said Westerfelt, riding + away. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, but take the right at the next fork." + </p> + <p> + About half a mile farther on he saw two horsemen, approaching. When quite + near they stopped. + </p> + <p> + "Howdy' do?" said one, eying Westerfelt suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + "How are you?" answered Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "We are revenue men; we're after a couple o' men and a wagon loaded with + whiskey. Seen anything of them?" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was silent. The revenue officer who had spoken rested his elbow + on his thigh and leaned towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Looky' here," he said, deliberately; "we don't know one another, but + there may be no harm in tellin' you if you try to throw us off the track + you lay yoreself liable to complicity. We've had about as much o' that + sort o' treatment round heer as we are going to put up with." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not on the witness-stand," said Westerfelt, pleasantly; "I'm only + looking for a stray horse." + </p> + <p> + "Let's go on," said the other Officer to his companion. "We are on the + right road; he's seed 'em ur he'd a-denied it. Let's not lose time." + </p> + <p> + "I'm with you," was the reply; then to Westerfelt: "You are right, you + hain't on the witness-stand, but ef we wanted to we could mighty easy + arrest you on suspicion and march you back to jail to be questioned by the + inspectors." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt smiled, "You'd have to feed me at the expense of the + government, and I'm as hungry as a bear; I've been out all day, and + haven't had a bite since breakfast." + </p> + <p> + The revenue men laughed. "We know who you are," said the one that had + spoken first, "an' we know our business, too; so long!" + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, as Westerfelt was about to go to bed in his room over the + stable, he heard a voice calling down-stairs. He went to the window and + looked out. Below he saw four men, two saddle horses, and a horse and + wagon. He heard Washburn open the office door and ask: + </p> + <p> + "What do you folks want?" + </p> + <p> + "Want to put up our beasts an' this hoss an' wagon," was the reply. "We've + got some gentlemen heer we're gwine to jail till mornin'." + </p> + <p> + "All right. I'll slide open the doors as soon as I git my shoes on. I wus + in bed." + </p> + <p> + "We'll have to leave these barrels o' rotgut with you." + </p> + <p> + "All right. Plenty o' room." Westerfelt came down-stairs just as Washburn + opened the big doors. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" said the revenue officer who had addressed him on the mountain; + "you see we made quick time; we found 'em right whar you left 'em." + </p> + <p> + "I see." + </p> + <p> + Washburn, who was under the skirt of a saddle unbuckling a girth, glanced + at Westerfelt in surprise as he lifted the saddle from the horse and + carried it into the stable. The two moonshiners exchanged quick glances + and sullenly muttered something to each other. Westerfelt, intent on + getting the business over that he might go to bed, failed to observe these + proceedings. When the officers had taken their prisoners on towards the + jail, Washburn, who, with a lantern, was putting the horses into stalls, + turned to Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "My Lord! Mr. Westerfelt," he said, "I hope you didn't give them fellers + away." + </p> + <p> + "Never dreamt of such a thing. What do you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "I 'lowed you had by what that feller said just now." + </p> + <p> + "What did he say?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, he said they'd ketched the men right whar you left 'em, an'—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, what of that?" Westerfelt spoke impatiently. "I did pass the + whiskey wagon. The revenue men asked me if I'd seen them, and I simply + refused to answer. They didn't get anything out of me." + </p> + <p> + "That's just what I'd 'a' done, but I wish you'd 'a' set yorese'f right + jest now, fer them fellers certainly think you give 'em away, an' they'll + tell the gang about it." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I didn't, so what does it matter?" + </p> + <p> + Washburn took out the bowl of his lantern and extinguished the light as + they entered the office. + </p> + <p> + "It makes a man mighty unpopular in the Cohutta Valley to interfere with + the moonshiners," he answered. "Whiskey-makin' is agin the law, but many a + family gits its livin' out o' the stuff, an' a few good citizens keep + the'r eyes shet to it. You see, Mr. Westerfelt, the gang may be a little + down on you anyway sence your difficulty with Wambush. Did you know that + he wus a sort of a ring-leader amongst 'em?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you mark my word, that feller'd swear his chances of heaven away to + turn them mount'in men agin you." + </p> + <p> + "Most of them are good-hearted fellows" replied Westerfelt. "They won't + harm me." + </p> + <p> + Washburn sat down on his bed, pulled off his shoes, and dropped them on + the puncheon floor. + </p> + <p> + "But he's got the'r ear, an' you hain't, Mr. Westerfelt. He'd grab at a + chance like this an' you'd never be able to disprove anything. Toot's got + some unprincipled friends that 'ud go any length to help him in + rascality." + </p> + <p> + The next morning before the revenue men had left with their prisoners and + the confiscated whiskey for the town where the trial before an inspector + was to take place, a number of mountaineers had gathered in the village. + They stood about the streets in mysterious groups and spoke in undertones, + and now and then a man would go to the jail window and confer with the + prisoners through the bars. Several men had been summoned to attend the + trial as witnesses, and others went out of curiosity or friendship for the + accused. + </p> + <p> + That evening, as John Westerfelt was passing through the hall of the hotel + to the dining-room, he met Harriet Floyd. She started when she saw him, + and he thought she acted as if she wanted to speak to him, but just then + some other boarders entered, and she turned from him abruptly. She sat + opposite him at the table a few moments later, but she did not look in his + direction. + </p> + <p> + On his return to the stable after supper, Washburn gave him a letter. He + recognized Sue Dawson's handwriting on the envelope. + </p> + <p> + "Is it a order?" asked Washburn, thinking it concerned the business. + </p> + <p> + "No, no; from a—a friend." Westerfelt lighted a candle at the wick + of Washburn's lantern and went up to his room. He put the candle on a + little table and sat down by it. + </p> + <p> + "I'll never read another line from that woman," he said. "I can't. She'll + run me crazy! I've suffered enough." + </p> + <p> + He threw the letter unopened on the table, and clasped his hands over his + knee and sat motionless for several minutes. Then he picked up the letter + and held one corner of it in the candle-flame. It ignited, and the blue + blaze began to spread over the envelope. Suddenly he blew it out and tore + the letter open. The margin of the paper was charred, but the contents + were intact. It ran: + </p> + <p> + "JOHN WESTERFELT,—I heard you Come Nigh meeting yore Death. The Lord + let you live to make you Suffer. The worst pain is not in the body But in + the Soul. You will likely live a long time and never git over yore guilty + suffering. The Report has gone out that some gal over thar tuk care of you + while you wus down in Bed. Well, it would be jest like you to try yore + skill on her. God Help her. I dont know her, nor nothin about her, but she + ort ter be warned. Ef she loved you with all Her soul you would pick a + Flaw somehow. Mark my words. You will live to See Awful Shapes when nobody + else does. Yore Hell Has begun. It will Go on for everlastin and + everlastin. + </p> + <h3> + "SUE DAWSON." + </h3> + <p> + He put the letter into his pocket and went to the window and drew down the + shade. Then he locked the door and placed the candle on the mantel-piece + and stood an open book before it, so that his bed was in the shadow. He + listened to hear if Washburn was moving below, then knelt by the bed and + covered his face with his hands. He tried to pray, but could think of no + words to express his desires. He had never been so sorely tried. Even if + he could school himself to forgetting Harriet's old love and the act of + deceitfulness into which her love had drawn her, could he ever escape Mrs. + Dawson's persecutions? Would she not, even if he won and married Harriet, + pursue and taunt him with the girl's old love, as she had Clem Dill? And + how could he stand that—he, whose ideal of woman and woman's + constancy had always been so high? + </p> + <p> + He rose, sat on the edge of the bed, and clasped his hands between his + knees. The room was in darkness except the spot of light on the wall + behind the book. Below he heard the horses crunching their corn and hay. + He took from his pocket Sue Dawson's letters and the one from Sally and + wrapped them in a piece of paper. Then he looked about for a place to hide + them. In a corner overhead he saw a jutting rafter, and behind it a dark + niche where the shingles sloped to the wall. It was too high for him to + reach from the floor, so he placed the table beneath the spot, and, + mounting it, pushed the packet tightly into the corner. Then he stepped + down and removed the table, cautiously, that Washburn might not hear him, + and sat on the bed again. He remained there motionless for twenty minutes. + Suddenly a rat ran across the floor with a scrap of paper in its mouth. He + stared at the place where the rat had disappeared as if bewildered, then + rose, placed the table back against the wall, secured the packet, and put + it into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII + </h2> + <p> + Westerfelt knew he could not sleep, and, seeing the moonlight shining + through his window, he decided to take a walk. He went below. Washburn sat + in a little circle of candle-light mending a piece of harness. + </p> + <p> + "Has the hack come in yet?" asked Westerfelt, remembering that he had paid + little attention to business that day. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Washburn; "it's down at the store unloadin' the mail." + </p> + <p> + "I thought I heard it turn the corner. Any passengers?" + </p> + <p> + "No; Buck said a family, one woman and five children, wus ready to start + by the Cohutta road to Royleston, but the report about the Whitecaps + t'other night skeerd 'em out of it, so they went by train to Wilks, an' + through that way. This outlawin' will ruin the country ef it hain't + stopped; nobody'll want to settle heer." + </p> + <p> + "I'll be back soon," said Westerfelt, and he went out. + </p> + <p> + The November air was dry and keen as he walked briskly towards the + mountains. The road ran through groves of stunted persimmon and sassafras + bushes, across swift-bounding mountain streams, and under natural arbors + of wild grapes and muscadine vines. In a few minutes Westerfelt reached + the meeting-house on a little rise near the roadside. + </p> + <p> + It had never been painted, but age and the weather had given it the usual + grayish color. Behind it, enclosed by a rail fence, was the graveyard. The + mounds had sunk, the stones leaned earthward, and the decaying trellises + had been pulled down by the vines which clambered over them. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange thing for Westerfelt to do, but, seeing the door open, he + went into the church. Two windows on each side let in the moonlight. The + benches were unpainted, and many of them had no backs. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt stood before the little pulpit for a moment and then turned + away. Outside, the road gleamed in the moonlight as it stretched on to the + village. A glimpse of the graveyard through the window made him shudder. + It reminded him of a grave he had never seen save in his mind. It was past + midnight. He would go back to his bed, though he felt no inclination to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + As he approached the stable, walking in the shadow of the trees on the + side of the street, he saw a woman come out of the blacksmith's shop + opposite the stable. For a moment she paused, her face raised towards the + window of his room, and then retreated into the shop. + </p> + <p> + It was Harriet Floyd. He stepped behind a tree and watched the door of the + shop. In a moment she reappeared and looked up towards his window again. + He thought she might be waiting to see him, so he moved out into the + moonlight and advanced towards her. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "I've been waiting to see you. I—I + must tell you something, but it won't do to stand here; somebody will see + us. Can't we?—come in the shop a minute." + </p> + <p> + Without speaking, and full of wonder, he followed her into the dark + building. She led him past piles of old iron, wagon-tires, ploughshares, + tubs of black water, anvils, and sledges to the forge and bellows at the + back of the shop. She waited for a moment for him to speak, but he only + looked at her questioningly, having almost steeled his heart against her. + </p> + <p> + "I come to warn you," she began, awkwardly, her eyes raised to his. "Toot + Wambush has prejudiced the Whitecaps against you. He has convinced them + that you reported the moonshiners. They are coming to-night to take you + out. The others don't mean to kill you; they say it's just to whip you, + and tar and feather you, and drive you out of the place, but he—Toot + Wambush—will kill you if he can. He would not let you get away + alive. He has promised the others not to use violence, but he will; he + hates you, and he wants revenge. He'll do it and make the others share the + responsibility with him—that's his plan." + </p> + <p> + He put his hand on the bellows-pole; the great leather bag rattled and + gasped, and a puff of ashes rose from the forge. + </p> + <p> + "How do you happen to know this?" he asked, coldly. She shrank from him, + and stared at him in silence. + </p> + <p> + "How do you know it?" he repeated, his tone growing fierce. + </p> + <p> + She drew the shawl with which she had covered her head more closely about + her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + "Toot hinted at it himself," she said, slowly. + </p> + <p> + "When?" + </p> + <p> + "About an hour ago." + </p> + <p> + "You met him?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Are you a member of his gang?" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt," shrinking from him, "do—do you mean to insult me?" + </p> + <p> + "Would he have told you if he had thought you would give him away?" + </p> + <p> + "I reckon not—why, no." + </p> + <p> + "Then he considers you in sympathy with his murderous plans." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, but I want you to keep out of his way. You must—oh, + Mr. Westerfelt, you must go! Don't stand here; they are coming down the + Hawkbill road directly. You could ride off towards Dartsmouth and easily + get away, if you will hurry." + </p> + <p> + "I see," he answered, with a steady stare of condemnation; "you want to + keep him from committing another crime—a more serious one." + </p> + <p> + She looked at him an instant as if puzzled, and then said: + </p> + <p> + "I want to keep him from killing you." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think he would take advantage of a helpless man?" + </p> + <p> + "I know it, Mr. Westerfelt; oh, I know he would!" + </p> + <p> + "Then you acknowledge he is a coward, and yet you—my God, what sort + of a creature <i>are</i> you?" + </p> + <p> + She continued to stare at him wonderingly, as if half afraid. She moved + suddenly into a moonbeam that streamed through a broken shingle in the + roof. Her face was like white marble. In its terrified lines and angles he + read nothing but the imprint of past weakness where he should have seen + only pleading purity—the purity of a child cowed and awed by the + object of a love so powerful, so self-sacrificing that she made no attempt + to understand it. She had always felt her inferiority to others, and now + that she loved her ideal of superiority she seemed to expect ill-treatment—even + contempt—at his hands. + </p> + <p> + He looked away from her. The begrimed handle of the bellows creaked and + swung as he leaned on it. He turned suddenly and impulsively grasped her + hands. + </p> + <p> + "You are a good girl," he cried; "you have been the best friend I ever + had. If I don't treat you better, it is on account of my awful nature. I + can't control it when I think of that villain." + </p> + <p> + "He <i>has</i> treated you very badly," she said, slowly, in a voice that + faltered. + </p> + <p> + "Where did you meet him and when?" he asked, under his breath. "God knows + I thought you were done with him." + </p> + <p> + "He came right to the house just after dark," returned Harriet. "Mother + let him come in; she wanted to talk to him." + </p> + <p> + "Did he come to get you to go away with him, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mr. Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + "And why didn't you go?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, how <i>can</i> you ask such a question," she asked, "when you <i>know</i>—" + She broke off suddenly, and then, seeing that he was silent, she added: + "Mr. Westerfelt, sometimes I am afraid, really afraid, your sickness has + affected your mind, you speak so strange and harsh to me. Surely I do not + deserve such cruelty. I am just a woman, and a weak one at that; a woman + driven nearly crazy through troubling about you." She raised a corner of + her shawl to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + He saw her shoulders rise with a sob, then he caught her hands. "Don't—don't + cry, little girl. I'd give my life to help you. Oh yes, <i>do</i> let me + hold your hands, just this once; it won't make any difference." + </p> + <p> + She did not attempt to withdraw her hands from his passionate, reckless + clasp, and, now more trustingly, raised her eyes to his. + </p> + <p> + "Sometimes I think you really love me," she faltered. "You have made me + think so several times." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not ashamed of it," he said. "I've had fancies for women, but I have + never felt this way before. It seems to me if I was to live a thousand + years I'd never, never feel that you was like other women. Maybe you love + me real deep, and maybe you just fancy me, but I'll never want any other + human being like I want you. I have been a bad man—a careless, + thoughtless man. Ever since I was a boy I have played with love. I was + playing with fire—the fire of hell, Harriet—and I got burnt. + In consequence of what I've done I suffer as no mortal ever suffered. + Repentance brings contentment to some men, but they are not built like me. + I don't do anything from morning to night but brood and brood over my past + life." + </p> + <p> + "I thought you had had some trouble," she returned, sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + "Why did you think so?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "You talked when you were out of your head. That's why I first took pity + on you. I never saw a man suffer in mind as you did. You rolled and + tumbled the first two or three nights and begged for forgiveness; often + you spoke so loud I was afraid others in the house would hear." + </p> + <p> + He opened his palms before her. "These hands are soaked in human blood—innocent + human blood," he said, tragically. "I don't deny it; if it would do a + particle of good I'd tell every soul on earth. I won a good girl's love, + and when I got tired of her and left her she killed herself to escape the + misery I put her in. I was unworthy of her, but she didn't know it, or + want to know it. Nobody knows she took her own life except me and her + mother, and it has ruined her life—taken away her only comfort in + old age and made her my mortal enemy. She never gives me a minute's rest—she + reminds me constantly that I'll never get forgiveness and never be happily + married, and she is right—I never shall. My wicked nature demands + too much of a woman. I can love, and do love, with all my soul, but my + pride cannot be subdued. I—" + </p> + <p> + "I understand, Mr. Westerfelt" she broke in, quickly. "Don't bring up that + subject again. What you said when I last saw you was enough. It almost + kept me from coming to-night, but it was my duty; but you do not have to + say any more about that." She took a step backward and stood staring at + him in mute misery. She had never felt that she was worthy of him, in a + way, but his cold reference—as she understood it—to her + misfortune released a spring of resentment she hardly knew was wound in + her breast. + </p> + <p> + "Forgive me," he pleaded, trying to regain her hands. "I'll never mention + it again. I promise you that—never again." + </p> + <p> + "It's all right," she answered, softening under his passionate gaze. "But + it would be kind of you to avoid mentioning what I cannot help." + </p> + <p> + He was about to reply, but there was a sound of barking dogs from the + mountain. "Go quick!" She caught her breath. "Don't wait! That may be them + now. Don't let them kill you." + </p> + <p> + He did not stir. "You'd better go home," he said, calmly. "I don't care a + straw what becomes of me. I've had enough of the whole business. I have + got as much right to live as anybody else, and I will not be driven from + pillar to post by a gang of outlaws, headed by a coward." He drew a + revolver, and, half cocking it, carelessly twirled the cylinder with his + thumb. "I've got five thirty-two-caliber shots here, and I think I can put + some of them where they ought to go." + </p> + <p> + She pushed the revolver down with her hand. "No, no!" she cried, "you must + not be reckless." + </p> + <p> + "I am a pretty good shot," he went on, bitterly, "and Toot Wambush shall + be my first target, if I can pick him out. Then the rest may do what they + like with me. You go home. It will do you no good to be seen with me." + </p> + <p> + She caught his arm. "If you don't go, I'll stay right here with you. Hush! + Listen! What was—? Great Heavens, they are coming. Go! Go!" + </p> + <p> + She glided swiftly to the door, and he followed her. Coming along the + Hawkbill road, about an eighth of a mile distant, they saw a body of + horsemen, their heads and shoulders dressed in white. His revolver slipped + from his fingers and rang on a fallen anvil. He picked it up mechanically, + still staring into the moonlight. Again he wondered if he were afraid, as + he was that night at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + "Run! get out a horse," she cried. "Mr. Washburn is there; he will help + you! Go quick, for God's sake! I shall kill myself if they harm you." He + stared at her an instant, then he put his revolver into his belt. + </p> + <p> + "All right, then, to oblige you; but you must hurry home!" He hastened + across the street and rapped on the office door. + </p> + <p> + "Who's thar?" called out Washburn from his bed. + </p> + <p> + "Me—Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of bare feet on the floor inside and the door opened. + </p> + <p> + "What's up?" asked Washburn, sleepily. + </p> + <p> + "I want my horse; there's a gang of Whitecaps coming down the Hawkbill, + and it looks like they are after me." + </p> + <p> + "My God!" Washburn began fumbling along the wall. "Where's the matches? + Here's one!" He scratched it and lighted his lantern. "I'll git yore hoss. + Stand heer, Mr. Westerfelt, an' ef I ain't quick enough make a dash on + foot fer that strip o' woods over thar in the field. The fences would keep + 'em from followin', an' you might dodge 'em." + </p> + <p> + When Washburn had gone into the stable, Westerfelt looked towards Harriet. + She had walked only a few yards down the street and stood under the trees. + He stepped out into the moonlight and signalled her to go on, but she + refused to move. He heard Washburn swearing inside the stable, and asked + what the matter was. + </p> + <p> + "I've got the bridles all tangled to hell," he answered. + </p> + <p> + "Hurry; anything will do!" + </p> + <p> + The Whitecaps had left the mountain-side and were now in sight on the + level road. A minute more and Westerfelt would be a captive. He might get + across the street unnoticed and hide himself in the blacksmith's shop, but + they would be sure to look for him there. If he tried to go through the + fields they would see him and shoot him down like a rabbit. + </p> + <p> + "Heer you are; which door, back or front?" cried Washburn. + </p> + <p> + "Front, quick! I've got to run for it! I'm a good mind to stand and make a + fight of it." + </p> + <p> + "Oh no; hell, no! Mr. Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + Washburn slid the big door open and kicked the horse in the stomach as he + led him out. + </p> + <p> + "Git up, quick! They are at the branch. Blast it, they heerd the door—they've + broke into a gallop!" + </p> + <p> + As Westerfelt put his foot into the stirrup he saw Harriet Floyd glide out + of sight into the blacksmith's shop. She had determined not to desert him. + As he sprang up, the girth snapped, and the saddle and blanket fell under + his feet. + </p> + <p> + "God, they are on us!" gasped Washburn. One of the gang raised a shout, + and they came on with increased speed. + </p> + <p> + "Up! Up!" cried Washburn, kicking the saddle out of his way. "Quick! + What's the matter?" Westerfelt felt a twinge in his old wound as he tried + to mount. Washburn caught one of his legs and lifted him on his horse. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt spurred the horse furiously, but the animal plunged, stumbled, + and came to his knees—the bridle-rein had caught his foot. The + foremost of the gang was now within twenty yards of him. + </p> + <p> + "Halt thar!" he yelled. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt drew his horse up and continued to lash him with his + bridle-rein. + </p> + <p> + "Shoot his hoss, but don't tetch him!" was the next command. + </p> + <p> + Several revolvers went off. Westerfelt's horse swayed at the rump and then + ran sideways across the street and fell against a rail fence. Westerfelt + alighted on his feet. He turned and drew his revolver, but just then his + horse rolled over against his legs and knocked the weapon from his hand. + It struck the belly of the horse and bounded into the middle of the + street. + </p> + <p> + "Ha, we've got ye!" jeered the leader, as he and two or three others + covered Westerfelt with their revolvers. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII + </h2> + <p> + The gang formed a semi-circle round Westerfelt and his horse. In their + white caps and sheets they appeared ghostly and hideous, as they looked + down at him through the eye-holes of their masks. One of them held a coil + of new rope and tantalizingly swung it back and forth before his face. + </p> + <p> + "You must go with us up the Hawkbill fer a little moonlight picnic," he + jeered. "We've picked out a tree up thar that leans spank over a cliff + five hundred feet from the bottom. Ef the rope broke, ur yore noggin + slipped through the noose, you'd never know how come you so." + </p> + <p> + "He's got to have some'n to ride," suggested another muffled voice; "we + have done his horse up." + </p> + <p> + "Well, he's got a-plenty, an' he won't need 'em atter our ja'nt," jested + the man with the rope. "You uns back thar, that hain't doin' nothin' but + lookin' purty, go in the stable and trot out some'n fer 'im to ride; + doggoned ef I want 'im straddled behind me. His ha'nt 'ud ride with me + every time I passed over the Hawkbill." + </p> + <p> + "Bill Washburn's in thar," said a man in the edge of the crowd. "I seed + 'im run in as we rid up." + </p> + <p> + The leader, who sat on a restive horse near Westerfelt, called out: + </p> + <p> + "Hello in thar, Bill Washburn; git out some'n to put yore man on. Hurry + up, ur we'll take you along to see the fun." + </p> + <p> + Washburn opened the office door and came out slowly. + </p> + <p> + "What do <i>you</i> say, Mr. Westerfelt? It's yore property. I won't move + a peg agin the man that I work fer ef eve'y dam Whitecap in Christendom + orders it." + </p> + <p> + "Care<i>ful</i>, care<i>ful</i>, young man; none o' your lip!" said the + leader, half admiringly. + </p> + <p> + "Give 'em the lot!" It was the first time Westerfelt had spoken. + </p> + <p> + Washburn made no reply, but went slowly back into the stable. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt's dying horse raised his head and groaned. A man near the + animal dismounted and drew his revolver. + </p> + <p> + "What d' you say?" said he to Westerfelt. "Hadn't I better put 'im out o' + his misery?" + </p> + <p> + "I'd be much obliged if you would." Westerfelt turned his face away. There + was a moment's pause. The man waited for the horse's head to become still. + Then he fired. + </p> + <p> + "Thanks," said Westerfelt. He looked round at the crowd, wondering which + of the men could be Toot Wambush. He had an idea that he had not yet + spoken, and was not among those nearest to him. Through the open door he + could see Washburn's lantern moving about in the stable. + </p> + <p> + "Hurry up in thar," cried a tall figure. "Do you think we're gwine to—" + He began to cough. + </p> + <p> + "How do you like to chaw cotton, Number Six?" a man near him asked. + </p> + <p> + "The blamed lint gits down my throat," was the reply. "I'd ruther be + knowed by my voice'n to choke to death on sech truck." + </p> + <p> + From far and near on all sides came the dismal barking of dogs, but the + villagers, if they suspected what was being enacted, dared not show their + faces. Washburn led a horse through the crowd and gave the bridle to + Westerfelt. He hesitated, as if about to speak, and then silently + withdrew. Westerfelt mounted. The leader gave the order, and the gang + moved back towards the mountain. Two horsemen went before Westerfelt and + two fell behind. As they passed the shop, dimly he saw the form of a woman + lying on the ground just out of the moonlight that fell in at the door. + Harriet had swooned. When they had gone past the shop, Westerfelt reined + in his horse and called over his shoulder to Washburn, who stood in front + of the stable. He would not leave her lying there if he could help it, and + yet he did not want Wambush to know she had warned him. The gang stopped, + and Washburn came to them. + </p> + <p> + "Any directions you want to give?" he asked of Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "I saw you looking for the account-book," answered Westerfelt, staring + significantly into his eyes. "I was in the blacksmith's shop to-day and + left it on the forge." + </p> + <p> + Washburn stared blankly at him for an instant, then he said, slowly, "All + right." + </p> + <p> + "You'd better get it to-night," added Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "All right, sir. I'll attend to everything." + </p> + <p> + "Cool as a cucumber," laughed a man. "Next thing you know he'll give + orders 'bout whar he wants to be buried, an' what to have cut on his + grave-rock." + </p> + <p> + The whole gang laughed at this witticism, and started on again. When they + had gone about a hundred yards Westerfelt glanced back. He saw Washburn + cross the road and enter the blacksmith's shop, and the next instant the + shop was hidden by a sudden turn in the road. They passed the + meeting-house and began to ascend the mountain. Here and there along the + dark range shone the red fires of chestnut harvesters. The blue smoke hung + among the pines, and the air was filled with the odor of burning leaves. + They passed a camp—a white-covered wagon, filled with bags of + chestnuts, two mules tethered to saplings, and three or four forms in + dusky blankets lying round a log fire. As the weird procession passed, the + mules drew back on their halters and threw their ears forward, but the + bodies at the fire did not stir. + </p> + <p> + In about twenty minutes the band reached a plateau covered with a matting + of heather. They went across it to the edge of a high precipice. It was as + perpendicular as a wall. Below lay the valley, its forests of pines and + cedars looking like a black lake in the clear moonlight. + </p> + <p> + "Git down, men, an' let's 'tend to business an' go back home," commanded + the leader. "I have a hankerin' atter a hot breakfast." + </p> + <p> + Everybody alighted except Westerfelt. The leader touched him with his + whip. "Will you git down, or do you want to be drug off like a saddle?" + </p> + <p> + "May I ask what you intend to do with me?" asked Westerfelt, + indifferently. + </p> + <p> + The leader laughed. "Put some turkey red calico stripes on that broad back + o' yorn, an' rub in some salt and pepper to cuore it up. We are a-gwine to + l'arn you that new settlers cayn't run this community an' coolly turn the + bluecoats agin us mount'in folks." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt looked down on the masks upturned to him. Only one of the band + showed a revolver. Westerfelt believed him to be Toot Wambush. He had not + spoken a word, but was one of the two that had ridden close behind him up + the mountain. One of the white figures unstrapped a pillow from the back + part of his saddle. He held it between his knees and gashed it with a + knife. + </p> + <p> + "By hunkey! they're white uns," he grunted, as he took out a handful. "I + 'lowed they wus mixed; ef my ole woman knowed I'd tuck a poke uv 'er best + goose feathers ter dab on a man she'd get a divorce." + </p> + <p> + Two or three laughed behind their masks. Another laugh went round as a + short figure returned from the bushes with a bucket of tar which had been + left near the road-side. + </p> + <p> + "Heer's yore gumstickum." He dipped a paddle in it and flourished it + before Westerfelt, who was still on his horse. "Say, mister, you don't + seem inclined to say anything fer yorese'f; the last man we dressed out + fer his weddin' begged like a whipped child, an' made no end o' promises + uv good behavior." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt got down from his horse. "I'm completely in your power," he + replied. "I won't beg any man nor gang of men living to give me my rights. + I suppose I am accused of having reported those fellows to the revenue + men. I have simply to say that it is a lie!" + </p> + <p> + "Uh, uh!" said the leader; "<i>care</i>ful! <i>care</i>ful! Don't be + reckless. We uns ain't the lyin' sort." + </p> + <p> + "I say it's a lie!" Westerfelt stared straight into the mask of Toot + Wambush. The wearer of it started and half raised his revolver, but + quickly concealed it under the sheet that hung below his waist. Everybody + was silent, as if they expected a reply from Wambush, but he made none. + </p> + <p> + "Them pore Cohutta men lyin' in the Atlanta jail said so, anyway," + returned the leader. "They ain't heer to speak fer the'rse'ves; it's a + easy thing to give them the lie behind the'r backs." + </p> + <p> + "They were mistaken, that's all," said Westerfelt. "Nobody but the revenue + men themselves could tell the whole truth about it. I did pass the wagon—" + </p> + <p> + "An' eavedropped on our two men. Oh, we know you did, kase they heerd a + sound, an' then as you didn't come for'ard, they 'lowed they had made a + mistake, but when you finally did pass they knowed it wus you, an' that + you'd been listenin'." + </p> + <p> + "That's the truth," admitted Westerfelt. "I had been warned that it would + be dangerous for me to go about in the mountains alone. I heard the men + talking, and stopped to find out who they were. I did not want to run into + an ambush. As soon as I found out who they were I spoke to them and + passed." + </p> + <p> + "At the stable, though, young man," reminded the leader—"at the + stable, when the bluecoats fetched the prisoners an' the plunder in, they + told you that they'd found them right whar you said they wus." + </p> + <p> + "You bet he did. What's the use a-jabberin' any longer?" The voice was + unmistakably Wambush's, and his angry tones seemed to fire the impatience + of the others. Westerfelt started to speak, but his words were drowned in + a tumult of voices. + </p> + <p> + "Go ahead!" cried several. + </p> + <p> + "Go ahead! Are you gwine to hold a court an' try 'im by law?" asked + Wambush, hotly. "I 'lowed that point was done settled." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt calmly folded his arms. "I've no more to say. I see I'm not + going to be heard. You are a gang of cold-blooded murderers." + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to anger the leader. + </p> + <p> + "Shuck off that coat an' shirt!" was his order. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt did not move. "I'm glad to say I'm not afraid of you," he said. + "If you have got human hearts in you, though, you'll kill me, and not let + me live after the degradation you are going to inflict. I know who's led + you to this. It is a cowardly dog who never had a thing against me till I + refused to let him have credit at my stable, when he owes an account + that's been running for two years. He tried to kill me with a pistol and a + knife when I was unarmed. He failed, and had to get you to help him. You + are not a bit better than he is. I'm no coward. I've got fighting blood in + me. Some of you'd acknowledge it if I was to tell you who my father was. I + have reason to believe there are men here to-night who fought side by side + with him in the war, and were with him when he was shot down tryin' to + hold up the flag at the battle of Chickamauga. One of the dirty cowards he + once carried off the field when the whelp could hardly walk with a bullet + in his leg!" + </p> + <p> + "What company wus that?" came from the edge of the crowd. The voice was + quivering. + </p> + <p> + "Forty-second Georgia." + </p> + <p> + For a moment no one spoke, then the same voice asked: + </p> + <p> + "Who wus your pa, young man?" + </p> + <p> + "Captain Alfred Stone Westerfelt, under Colonel Mills." + </p> + <p> + The tall slender figure of the questioner leaned forward breathlessly and + then pushed into the ring. Without a word he stood near Westerfelt, + unpinned the sheet that was round him, and slowly took off his mask. Then + he put a long forefinger into his mouth, pried a wad of cotton out of each + cheek, and threw them on the ground. + </p> + <p> + It was old Jim Hunter. He cleared his throat, spat twice, wiped his mouth + with his hand, and slowly swept the circle with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I'm the feller he toted out," he said. He cleared his throat again, and + went on: + </p> + <p> + "Boys, if thar's to be any whippin', ur tarrin' an' featherin' in this + case, I'm agin it tooth an' toe-nail. Cap Westerfelt's boy sha'n't have a + hair o' his head fetched on sech flimsy evi<i>dence</i> as we've had while + I'm alive. You kin think what you please o' me. I've got too much faith in + the Westerfelt stock to believe that a branch of it 'u'd spy ur sneak. + This is Jim Hunter a-talkin'." + </p> + <p> + Two others pushed forward, taking off their sheets and masks. They were + Joe Longfield and Weston Burks. + </p> + <p> + "We are t'other two," said Longfield, dryly. "The Yanks killed off too + blame many o' that breed o' men fer us to begin to abuse one at this late + day. Ef Westerfelt's harmed, it will be over my dead body, an' I bet I'm + as hard to kill as a eel." + </p> + <p> + "Joe's a-talkin' fer me," said Burks, simply, and he put his hand on his + revolver. + </p> + <p> + "We've been too hasty," began Jim Hunter again. "We've 'lowed Toot to + inflame our minds agin this man, an' now I'll bet my hat he's innocent. + I'd resk a hoss on it." + </p> + <p> + "Thar's a gal in it, I'm a-thinkin'," opined Weston Burks, dryly. + </p> + <p> + "Men," cried the leader, "thar's a serious disagreement; we've always + listened to Jim Hunter; what must we do about the matter under dispute?" + </p> + <p> + "Send the man back to town," cried a voice in the edge of the crowd. "He's + the right sort to the marrow; I'll give 'im my paw an' wish 'im well." + </p> + <p> + "That's the ticket!" chimed in the man with the rope, as he tossed it over + the horn of his saddle. + </p> + <p> + "I 'low myself we've been a leetle bit hasty," admitted the leader. + </p> + <p> + "Put down that gun! Drap it!" cried Jim Hunter, turning suddenly on Toot + Wambush. "Ef you dare to cock a gun in this crowd, you'll never live to + hear it bang!" + </p> + <p> + Wambush started to raise his revolver again, but Hunter knocked it from + his hand. Wambush stooped to pick it up, but the old man kicked it out of + his reach. + </p> + <p> + "You don't work that trick on this party," he said, hotly. + </p> + <p> + "I wasn't tryin' to draw it," muttered Wambush. + </p> + <p> + "You lie!" Then Hunter turned to the leader: "What d'ye think ortter be + done with a man like that? Ef I hadn't a-been so quick he'd a shot + Westerfelt, an' before the law we'd all a-been accomplices in murderin' a + innocent man." + </p> + <p> + "I move we give the whelp six hours to git out'n the county," said Joe + Longfield. "You all know I've been agin Toot." + </p> + <p> + "That would be too merciful," said Burks. + </p> + <p> + "Boys," the leader cried, "Wambush has broke a rule in tryin' this thing + on us. You've heerd the motion; is thar a second?" + </p> + <p> + "I second it," said Jim Hunter. + </p> + <p> + "It's been moved and seconded that Wambush be 'lowed six hours to git + clean out o' the county; all in favor say yes." + </p> + <p> + There was almost a general roar. + </p> + <p> + "All opposed say no." + </p> + <p> + No one spoke for a moment, then Wambush muttered something, but no one + understood what it was. He turned his horse round and started to mount. He + had his left foot in the stirrup, and had grasped the mane of the animal + with his right hand, when the leader yelled: + </p> + <p> + "Hold on thar! Not so quick, sonny. We don't let nobody as sneakin' as you + are ride off with a gun in his hip pocket. S'arch 'im, boys; he's jest the + sort to fire back on us an' make a dash fer it." + </p> + <p> + Hunter and Burks closed in on him. Wambush drew back and put his hand + behind him. + </p> + <p> + "Damn you! don't you touch me!" he threatened. + </p> + <p> + The two men sprang at him like tigers and grasped his arms. Wambush + struggled and kicked, but they held him. + </p> + <p> + "Wait thar a minute," cried the leader; "he don't know when to let well + enough alone. You white sperits out thar with the tar an' feathers come + for'ard. Wambush ain't satisfied with the garb he's got on." + </p> + <p> + A general laugh went round. With an oath Wambush threw his revolver on the + ground and then his knife. This done, Hunter and Burks allowed him to + mount. + </p> + <p> + "Don't let him go yet," commanded the leader; "look in his saddle-bags." + </p> + <p> + Wambush's horse suddenly snorted, kicked up his heels, and tried to plunge + forward, but Burks clung to the reins and held him. + </p> + <p> + "He dug his spur into his hoss on this side like thunder," said a man in + the crowd. "It's a wonder he didn't rip 'im open." + </p> + <p> + "S'arch them bags," ordered the leader, "an' ef he makes anuther budge + before it's done, or opens his mouth fer a whisper, drag 'im right down + an' give 'im 'is deserts." + </p> + <p> + Wambush offered no further resistance. Hunter fumbled in the bags. He held + up a quart flask of corn whiskey over his head, shook it in the moonlight, + and then restored it. "I hain't the heart to deprive 'im of that," he + said, as he walked round the horse; "he won't find any better in his + travels." On the other side he found a forty-four-caliber revolver. + </p> + <p> + "That 'u'd be a ugly customer to meet on a dark road," he said, holding it + up for the others to see. "By hunky! it 'u'd dig a tunnel through a rock + mountain. Say, Westerfelt, ef he'd 'a' got a whack at yer with this yore + fragments 'u'd never a-come together on the day o' jedgment." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt made no reply. + </p> + <p> + "Now, let 'im go," said the leader. "Ef he dares to be seed anywhar in the + Cohutta section six hours frum now he knows what will come uv 'im. We + refuse to shelter 'im any longer, an' the officers of the law will take + 'im in tow." + </p> + <p> + The ring of men and horses opened for Wambush to pass out. He said + nothing, and did not turn his head as he rode down the mountain into the + mysterious haze that hung over the valley. + </p> + <p> + "What do you say, boys?" proposed Jim Hunter to Longfield and Burks. + "Let's ride down the road a piece with Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + "All right," both of them said. There was a general scramble of the band + to get mounted. Westerfelt got on his horse and started back towards the + village, accompanied by the three men. When they had ridden about a + hundred yards, Westerfelt said: + </p> + <p> + "I'm taking you out of your way, gentlemen, and I think I'd rather go + alone." + </p> + <p> + "Well, all right," said Hunter; "but you've got to take my gun. That whelp + would resk his salvation to get even with you." + </p> + <p> + "I know it," said Westerfelt, putting the revolver into his pocket; "but + he'll not try it to-night." + </p> + <p> + "No, I think he's gone fer good," said Longfield. "I guess he'll make fer + Texas." + </p> + <p> + At a point where two roads crossed a few yards ahead of them, Westerfelt + parted with the three men. They went back up the mountain, and he rode + slowly homeward. + </p> + <p> + When he was in sight of the stable, he saw Washburn coming towards him on + horseback. + </p> + <p> + "Hello! Did they hurt you, Mr. Westerfelt?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "They never touched me." + </p> + <p> + "My Lord! how was that?" + </p> + <p> + "I told them I had nothing to do with the arrest; three of them were old + friends of my father's, and they believed me. Did you find her—did + you find Miss Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; I couldn't make out what you meant 'bout the account-book at first, + but I went over to the shop as soon as you all left. She wus lyin' thar on + the ground in a dead faint. It took hard work to bring her to." + </p> + <p> + "You took her home?" + </p> + <p> + "Not right away; I couldn't do a thing with 'er. She acted like a crazy + woman. She screamed an' raged an' tore about an' begged fer a hoss to ride + atter you all. She wasn't in no fix to go; she didn't know what she wus + about, an' that scamp would a-shot 'er. I believe on my soul he would." + </p> + <p> + They had reached the stable and dismounted, but neither moved to go in. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon you ought to know the truth, Washburn, since you saw her there + so late at night," said Westerfelt, hesitatingly. "The fact is, she came + to warn me. I suppose she knew Wambush would try to kill me, and she + didn't want to—" + </p> + <p> + "She don't keer a snap for Wambush, ef that's what you mean," said + Washburn, when he saw that Westerfelt was going no farther. "I know it's + been the talk, an' she no doubt did like him a little at one time, but + the' ain't but one man livin' she keers fer now. It ain't none o' my + business—I'm no hand to meddle, but I know women! She kep' cryin' + an' sayin' that they'd murder you, an' ef they did she'd kill Toot Wambush + ur die in the attempt. I'm tellin' you a straight tale." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt sat down in a chair at the side of the door. Washburn led the + horse into the stable and put him into a stall. Then he came back. + Westerfelt's hands were over his face, but he took them down when he heard + Washburn's step. + </p> + <p> + "Did—did she hurt herself when she fell?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "No, she's all right." Washburn hesitated a moment, then he added: "Mr. + Westerfelt, you ought to go up to yore room an' try to rest some; this + night's been purty rough on you atter bein' down in bed so long." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt rose silently and went through the office and up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIV + </h2> + <p> + The dawn was breaking when Harriet Floyd stole up to her room under the + slant of the roof. She had no idea of trying to sleep. She sat down on the + side of the bed, shivering with cold. Through the small-paned dormer + window the gray light fell, bringing into vague relief the different + objects in the room. Down in the back yard the chickens were flapping + their wings and crowing lustily. Through the dingy glass she could see the + cow-lot, the sagging roof of the wagon-shed, the barn, the ricks of hay, + and the bare branches of the apple-trees still holding a few late apples. + Her shoes were wet with dew and her dress and shawl hung limply about her. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden step in the hall; a hand touched the latch; the door + opened cautiously. + </p> + <p> + "Harriet!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd glided across the floor, sat down on the bed by her daughter, + and stared at her in wonder. + </p> + <p> + "Where on earth have you been? I have been watching for you all night. Oh, + my child, what is the matter? What has gone wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "I have been out trying to save Mr. Westerfelt. Toot led the Regulators + down an' they took him out. I warned him, but he would not go in time and + they took him to the mountain." + </p> + <p> + "Good Heavens! what did they intend to do with him?" + </p> + <p> + "Most of them meant only to frighten him and to whip him, but Toot Wambush + will kill him if he gets a chance." + </p> + <p> + "I don't believe they'll harm him," said Mrs. Floyd, consolingly. "Anyway, + we can't do anything; get in bed and let me cover you up; you are damp to + the skin and all of a quiver; you'll catch your death sitting here." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd put her hand round Harriet, but she sprang up and pulled down a + heavy cloak from a hook on the wall. + </p> + <p> + "I did not come here to go to bed!" she cried. She put the garment on and + strode past her mother to the window. Mrs. Floyd followed her movements + with an anxious glance. At the window Harriet turned and stamped her foot. + "Do you think I'm going to bed when I don't know—oh, my God, I can't + bear it! I can't bear it!" She suddenly approached her bewildered mother, + put her hands on her shoulders, and turned her face to the light. "You + hear me, mother? As God in Heaven is my witness, if a hair of that man's + head is harmed to-night, I'll kill Toot Wambush on sight. I'll kill him, + if I hang for it! I swear it before God! Do you hear? I swear it—no + power on earth shall stop me! I'll <i>do</i> it!" + </p> + <p> + Her body swayed. She made a step towards the door and sank down in a + swoon. Mrs. Floyd sprang for a pitcher of water and sprinkled her face. + The girl revived a little, and her mother raised her in her arms, put her + on the bed, and drew the covers over her. Harriet closed her eyes + drowsily. She did not seem wholly conscious. Mrs. Floyd went down-stairs + and lighted a fire in the kitchen stove, and put on some water to heat. + Then she went to the cook's room off the back porch and shook the door. + </p> + <p> + "Get up quick, Em', Harriet is sick!" she cried; then she ran up to her + own room, opposite Harriet's, and finished dressing herself. As she was + crossing the hall she saw a man on horseback in the street. She went out + on the veranda and called to him. At first she did not recognize him, but + when he came nearer she saw that it was Washburn. + </p> + <p> + "Are you going to help Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked, in a low tone, as she + leaned over the railing. + </p> + <p> + "I've done all that kin be done," he said. "I've been round among the + citizens. They all say we'd be fools to try to do anything, Mrs. Floyd. + Some are skeerd to death, an' others pretend they don't think Mr. + Westerfelt's in danger." + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, fearing her voice would rouse Harriet, and after he + had ridden away, she went back to the girl's room. Harriet was asleep, so + she left her. A few hours later the barkeeper's wife came into the kitchen + and told Mrs. Floyd the latest news. She dropped the pan she was cleaning + and eagerly ran up to Harriet. + </p> + <p> + The noise of the opening door roused the girl. She sat up, stared in a + dazed way at her mother an instant, then threw off the coverings and + sprang out of bed. + </p> + <p> + "I've been asleep; Mr. Westerfelt! Oh, mother, why did you let me—" + </p> + <p> + "He's all right!" interrupted Mrs. Floyd. "They didn't touch a hair of his + head." Harriet stared open-mouthed. + </p> + <p> + "He's back safe and sound," went on Mrs. Floyd; "he proved himself + innocent and they let 'im go." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, mother, mother!" Harriet put her arms round the old woman's neck and + clung to her. "Thank God! Oh, mother, thank God—thank God!" Then she + sat down in a chair and began hastily to put on her shoes. + </p> + <p> + "What are you going to do?" + </p> + <p> + "Going to see him." + </p> + <p> + "Not now; why—" + </p> + <p> + "I <i>will</i> see him. Let me alone; don't try to stop me!" + </p> + <p> + "You surely would not go to the stable! He—" + </p> + <p> + "I'd go anywhere to see him. I don't care what people say; I'm going to + see him." + </p> + <p> + As Harriet bent to fasten her shoes, Mrs. Floyd touched her. + </p> + <p> + "Daughter, are you engaged to Mr. Westerfelt?" + </p> + <p> + Harriet did not look up. She still bent over her shoes, but the strings + lay motionless in her fingers. + </p> + <p> + "No, he intimated he couldn't marry me, on—on account of my + misfortune. Oh, don't let's talk about it. He and I understand each other. + He loves me, but we're not engaged." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd leaned against the mantel-piece. Her face had become hard and + stern. Harriet started to leave the room, but Mrs. Floyd suddenly stepped + between her and the door. + </p> + <p> + "He intimated that <i>that</i> would keep him from marrying you? My Lord—the + coward!" + </p> + <p> + "Mother, don't—don't say that!" + </p> + <p> + "I thought he was a <i>man</i>! Why, he is lower than a brute." + </p> + <p> + Harriet disengaged herself from her mother's grasp, and passed on to the + door. She turned on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + "I have no time to quarrel with you about him," she said, with a sigh; + "you can have your opinion, nothing on earth will change mine. He loves + me. I am going to see him now, and nothing you can say or do will prevent + me." + </p> + <p> + Her shoes rattled loosely on the bare floor and on the stairs as she went + down to the street. + </p> + <p> + During the night the sycamore-trees had strewn the ground with half-green, + half-yellow leaves, and the tops of the fences were white with frost. + Martin Worthy was taking down the shutters at the store and calling + through the window to his wife, who was unscrewing them on the inside. A + farmer had left his team in front of the bar, and she saw him taking his + morning drink at the counter and heard Buck Hillhouse giving him an + exaggerated report of the visit of the Whitecaps. The eastern sky was + yellowing, and a peak of the tallest mountain cut a brown gash in the + coming sunlight. At the fence in front of Bufford Webb's cottage a cow + stood lowing for admittance, and a milking-pail hung on the gate. + </p> + <p> + As Harriet passed, Mrs. Webb came out with a bucket of "slop" for the pig + in a pen near the fence. She rested it on the top rail to speak to + Harriet, but the hungry animal made such a noise that she hastened first + to empty the vessel into the trough. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning," she said, going quickly to the gate and wiping her hands + on her apron; "did you-uns heer the racket last night?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Harriet. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't sleep a wink. We could see 'em frum the kitchen winder. It's a + outrage, but I'm glad they did no rail harm." + </p> + <p> + The girl passed on. She found Washburn in front of the stable oiling a + buggy. He had placed a notched plank under an axle and was rapidly + twirling a wheel. + </p> + <p> + "Where is Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to the window in the attic. "Up thar lyin' down. He's + not in bed. He jest threw hisself down without undressing." + </p> + <p> + "Is he asleep?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, Miss Harriet, but I think not." + </p> + <p> + "Did they hurt him last night, Mr. Washburn?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, no, Miss Harriet, not a single bit." + </p> + <p> + She caught her breath in relief. "I thought maybe they had, and that he + was not going to acknowledge it. Are—are you sure?" + </p> + <p> + "As sure as I could be of anything, Miss Harriet; I believe he is a + truthful man, an' he told me they didn't lay the weight of a finger on + 'im. You kin go up an' ax 'im. He ain't asleep; he looked too worried to + sleep when he got back. He walked the floor the balance o' the night. + Seems to me he's been through with enough to lay out six common men." + </p> + <p> + Harriet did not answer. She turned into the office and went up the stairs + to Westerfelt's room. Round her was a dark, partially floored space + containing hay, fodder, boxes of shelled corn, piles of corn in the husk, + and bales of cotton-seed meal. She rapped on the door-facing, and, as she + received no response, she called out: + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt, come out a minute." + </p> + <p> + She heard him rise from his bed, and in a moment he stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it's you!" he cried, in a glad voice. "I was afraid you were not + well. I—" + </p> + <p> + "I am all right," she assured him. "But I simply couldn't rest till I saw + you with my own eyes. When I heard they let you off I was afraid it was a + false report. Sometimes, when those men do a bad thing they try to cover + it up. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, I am so—so miserable!" + </p> + <p> + He caught her hands and tried to draw her into his room out of the draught + which came up the stairs, but she would not go farther than the door. + </p> + <p> + "No, I must hurry back home" she said. "Mother did not want me to come + anyway; she didn't think it looked right, but I was so—so worried." + </p> + <p> + "I understand." He was feasting his eyes on hers; it was as if their + hunger could never be appeased. "Oh, I'm so glad you come I've had you on + my mind—" + </p> + <p> + But she interrupted him suddenly. Looking round at the bleak room and its + scant furniture, she said: "I—I thought may be I could persuade you + now to come back to your room at the hotel, where mother and I could wait + on you. You do not look as well as you did, Mr. Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + He smiled and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + "It's mighty good of you to ask me," he returned, "but this is good enough + for me, and I don't want to be such a bother. The Lord knows I was enough + trouble when I was there." + </p> + <p> + A look of sharp pain came upon her sensitive face for an instant, then she + said; "I wish you wouldn't talk that way; you weren't one bit of trouble." + </p> + <p> + He looked away from her. He was, indeed, not at his best. His beard had + grown out on his usually clean-shaven face and his cheeks looked sallow + and sunken. He was tingling all over with a raging desire to throw his + arms about her and tell her how he loved her and longed to make her his + wife, but suddenly a mind-picture of Toot Wambush rose before him. He saw + her deliberately lying to the officers to save him from arrest, and—worse + than all—he saw her in the arms of the outlaw's father sobbing out a + confession of her love. He told himself then, almost in abject terror of + some punishment held over him by God Himself, that Mrs. Dawson's prayers + would be answered—if—if he gave way. "No," he commanded + himself, "I shall stand firm. She's not for me, though she may love me—though + she does love me now and would wipe out the past with her life. A woman as + changeable as that would change again." Then a jealous rage flared up + within him, and he laid a threatening hand on either of her shoulders and + glared into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I told you last night I'd never bring up a certain subject again, but—" + </p> + <p> + "Then you'd better not," she said, so firmly, so vindictively, that his + tongue was stilled. "I came here out of kindness; don't you dare—don't + you insult me again, Mr. Westerfelt." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, do forgive me! I—" But she had shaken off his hands and moved + nearer the stairway. + </p> + <p> + "You made a promise last night," she reminded him, "and I did not dream + you had so little respect for me as to break it so soon." + </p> + <p> + He moved towards her, his hands outstretched imploringly, but a sound from + below checked him. Some one was speaking to Washburn in the office. Then + footsteps were heard on the stairs, and Mrs. Bradley, followed by Luke, + waddled laboriously up the steps. She was wiping her eyes, which were red + from weeping. She glanced in cold surprise at Harriet, and passing her + with only a nod, went to Westerfelt and threw her arms around his neck. + Then with her head on his breast she burst into fresh tears. + </p> + <p> + "You pore, motherless, unprotected boy," she sobbed. "I can't bear it a + bit longer. Me 'n' Luke wus the cause o' yore comin' to this oncivilized + place anyway, an' you've been treated wuss 'an a dog. Ef Luke had one + speck o' manhood left in him, he'd—" + </p> + <p> + Bradley advanced from the door, and drew his wife away from Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "Don't act so daddratted foolish," he said. "No harm hain't been done yet—no + <i>serious</i> harm." Still holding her hand, he turned to Westerfelt; + "They've tried to do you dirt, John, I know, but them boys will be the + best friends on earth to you now. Ef you ever want to run fer office all + you got to do is to announce yorese'f. Old Hunter wus down at Bill Stone's + this mornin' as we passed buyin' his fine hoss to replace yore'n." + </p> + <p> + "I reckon they've run Toot Wambush clean off," put in Mrs. Bradley, + looking significantly at Harriet. She expected the girl to reply, but + Harriet only avoided her glance. Mrs. Bradley rubbed her eyes again, put + her handkerchief into her pocket, and critically surveyed the damp, + bedraggled dress of the girl. + </p> + <p> + "It's mighty good of you to come down to see 'im all by yourself so + early," she said; "some gals wouldn't do sech a thing. The report is out + that you notified John of what the band intended to do." + </p> + <p> + Harriet nodded, and looked as if she wanted to get away. + </p> + <p> + "It wus mighty good of you, especially as you an' Toot are sech firm + friends," went on Mrs. Bradley; "but it's a pity you wusn't a little + sooner with yore information." + </p> + <p> + "She told me in plenty of time," corrected Westerfelt. "It was my fault + that I didn't get away. I didn't go when Miss Harriet told me to." + </p> + <p> + His reply did not please Mrs. Bradley, as she showed by her next remark. + "I'd think you'd be afeerd o' makin' Toot madder at you 'n he already is," + she said to Harriet. + </p> + <p> + The girl did not look at her. She was watching Westerfelt, who had + suddenly moved to the bed and sat down. When she spoke she directed her + explanation to Bradley rather than to his wife. + </p> + <p> + "Mother and I thought Mr. Westerfelt ought not to stay here alone, and + that we'd get him to come over to the room he had in the hotel; so we—" + </p> + <p> + "You an' yore mother hain't knowed 'im sence he wus knee-high like me an' + Luke has," jealously retorted Mrs. Bradley. "I reckon it's time we wus + givin' the boy a little attention. We've got the buggy down thar waitin', + John, an' a hot breakfast ready at home. I won't stand no refusal. You + jest got to come with us; you needn't make no excuse." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not sick," answered Westerfelt, with a faint smile. He glanced at + Harriet. With an unsteady step she was moving away. He wanted to call to + her, but the presence of the others sealed his lips. She turned out into + the semi-darkness of the loft, and then they heard her descending the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + The sun was rising as she went back to the hotel. No one was in the + parlor. She entered it and closed the door after her. She drew up the + window-shade and looked down the street till she saw Mrs. Bradley and + Westerfelt pass in a buggy. Then she went into the dining-room, where a + servant was laying a cloth on a long table, took down a stack of plates + from a shelf, and began to put them in their places. + </p> + <p> + When breakfast was over that morning Westerfelt went back to the stable. + While sitting in the office. Long Jim Hunter came to the door leading a + fine bay horse, a horse that Westerfelt recognized at a glance as one he + had seen and admired before. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Mr. Westerfelt," he called out over Washburn's shoulder, who had gone + to him. "I wish you'd step heer a minute. I know you don't do the rough + work round heer, but I like to have my dealings with the head of a + shebang. Wash, heer, never did have much more sense 'n a chinch, nohow." + </p> + <p> + "What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" asked the man addressed, coming out. + </p> + <p> + There was a decidedly sheepish look in the old man's face, and he swung + the halter of the horse awkwardly to and fro. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see, it's jest this way, Westerfelt," he began, with an effort. + "I've bought this blamed hoss frum Bill Stone an' I want to leave 'im heer + with you. I want you to put 'im through any sort o' work you see fit; he's + too blam' fat an' frisky anyhow." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt comprehended the whole situation, but he did not want to accept + the horse. "Why, Mr. Hunter, really—" he began. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, we'll take yore hoss," laughed Washburn. "We kin take the kinks out'n + his mane an' tail an' make 'im wish he never wus born. Oh, Lordy, yes, we + want 'im, an' ef you've got a good saddle an' bridle ur a buggy hustle 'em + around." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you'd better 'tend to 'im." Hunter tossed the halter to Washburn. + "I'll be blamed ef I want 'im." And he turned and without another word + walked away. + </p> + <p> + "It's wuth three o' the one they shot," was Washburn's laconic + observation. He looked the animal over admiringly and slapped him so + vigorously under the belly that the horse grunted and humped his back. + </p> + <p> + Cartwright, like nearly every other Georgian village, had its lawyer. + Bascom Bates was a young man of not more than thirty, but he was accounted + shrewd by many older legal heads, who had been said to have advised him to + move to a larger place. When business did not come to his office, Bates + sometimes went after it. If a woman lost a husband in a railway wreck or + was knocked off the track where he had no right to be, Bates called as + early as possible and offered to direct a suit against the corporation for + damages at half the usual price—that is, as Bill Stone once put it, + the widow got half and Bates half, which nobody seemed to think + exorbitant, because it cost a lawyer a good deal to get his education, and + court convened but twice a year. He was among the first to call on + Westerfelt that morning, and with a mysterious nod and crooking of his + fingers in the air he induced the young man to follow him into one of the + vacant stalls in the back part of the long building. + </p> + <p> + "Thar's something that has jest struck me, Westerfelt," he began, in the + low voice of an electioneering candidate, and he possessed himself of one + of Westerfelt's lapels and began to rub his thick, red fingers over it. "I + wouldn't have you mention me in the matter, for really I hain't got a + thing ag'in any of these mountain men, but I thought I'd say to you as a + friend that this is a damageable case. Them men could be handled for what + they done last night, and made to sweat for it—sweat hard cash, as + the feller said." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt stared at him in surprise. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," he said, "I never thought of that. I—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, there ain't no harm in looking at the thing from all sides," broke + in the lawyer, as deliberately as his professional eagerness would permit. + "A good price could be made out of the ring-leaders anyway. Old Jim + Hunter's got two hundred acres o' bottom land as black as that back yard + out thar, an' it's well stocked, an' I know all the rest o' the gang an' + their ability to plank up. Maybe it wouldn't even get as far as court. + Them fellers would pay up rather than be published all over creation as—" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt drew back, smiling. He did not really dislike Bates, and he + attributed his present proposition to the desire to advance in his + profession, but he was far from falling into the present proposal. + </p> + <p> + "I haven't the slightest intention of prosecuting, Mr. Bates," he + declared, firmly. "In fact, nothing could persuade me to take a single + step in that direction." + </p> + <p> + The face of the lawyer fell. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that's the way you feel. Well," scratching his chin, "I don't know as + it makes much difference one way or the other, but I hope, Mr. Westerfelt, + that you won't mention what I said. These fellers are the very devil about + boycottin' people." + </p> + <p> + "It shall go no further," answered Westerfelt, and together they walked to + the front. A few minutes after Bates had gone across the street to his + office, old Hunter slouched into the stable and stood before Westerfelt. + He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Bates's direction and grinned + uneasily. Then he spat, and delivered himself of this: + </p> + <p> + "I'll bet I kin make a powerful good guess at what that feller wanted to + see you about." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt smiled good-naturedly. He felt irresistibly drawn towards the + old man. + </p> + <p> + "Do you think you could, Mr. Hunter?" + </p> + <p> + "I'd bet a ten-acre lot agin a ginger-cake. An' I'll bet some'n else; I'll + bet ten dollars 'gin a nickel that Cap. Westerfelt's boy ain't a-gwine to + harbor no ill-will agin one o' his daddy's old friends that wus actin' the + damn fool 'fore he knowed who he wus monkeyin' with." + </p> + <p> + "You'd win on that bet, Mr. Hunter," and Westerfelt gave the old man his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Hunter's shook as with palsy as he grasped and held it. Tears rose in his + eyes. "Lord, Lord A'mighty!" he said, "when I reecolect that the young + chap 'at stood up thar so spunky all by hisse'f last night, in that + moonlight an' sassed all of us to our teeth was Cap. Westerfelt's boy—by + God, I jest want some hound dog to come an' take my place on God's earth—so + I do. I want some able-bodied cornfield nigger to wear a hickory-withe out + on my bare back." Then he dropped Westerfelt's hand and strode away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XV + </h2> + <p> + Westerfelt accepted the urgent invitation of the Bradleys to live in their + house awhile. For the first week his wound gave him pain and his appetite + failed him, which was due as much, perhaps, to mental as bodily trouble, + for Harriet Floyd was on his mind constantly. Thoroughly disgusted with + himself for having in the past treated the hearts of women lightly, he now + drew the rein of honor tightly when he thought of his position and hers. + He told himself he would never go to see her again till he had made up his + mind to forget her love for Wambush and every rasping fact pertaining to + it, and honorably ask her to be his wife. There were moments in which he + wondered if she were not, on her part, trying to forget him, and + occasionally, when his spirits sank lowest, he actually harbored the fear + that her affection might already have returned to Wambush. He recalled + something he had once heard that a woman would love a man who was + unfortunate more surely than one who was not, and this thought almost + drove him mad with jealousy, for was she not likely, through pity, to send + her heart after the exile? Now and then, in passing the hotel, he caught a + glimpse of Harriet on the veranda or at the window, but she always turned + away, as if she wished to avoid meeting him, and this pained him, too, for + she had become his very life, and such cold encounters were like permanent + steps towards losing her forever, which, somehow, had never quite shaped + itself into a possibility in his mind. + </p> + <p> + It was a warm day in the middle of November, Westerfelt and Washburn stood + at the stable waiting for the hack, which, once a day, brought the mail + and passengers from Darley. It had come down the winding red clay road and + stopped at the hotel before going on to the stable. + </p> + <p> + "I see a woman on the back seat," remarked Washburn. "Wonder why she + didn't git out at the hotel." + </p> + <p> + In a moment the hack was in front of the stable, and Budd Ridly, the + driver, had sprung down and was helping a woman out on the opposite side. + When she had secured her shawl and little carpet-bag, she walked round the + hack and came towards Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + It was Sue Dawson. She wore the same black cotton bonnet and gown, now + faded and soiled, that she had worn at her daughter's funeral. + </p> + <p> + "Howdy' do?" she said, giving him the ends of her fingers, and resting her + carpet-bag on her hip. "I <i>'lowed</i> you'd be glad to see me." There + was a malicious gleam in her little blue eyes, and her withered face was + hard and pale and full of desperate purpose. + </p> + <p> + "How do you do?" he replied. + </p> + <p> + She smiled as she slowly scrutinized him. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you <i>don't</i> look as if you wus livin' on a bed of ease + exactly," she said, in a tone of satisfaction; "you've been handled purty + rough, I reckon, fer a dandified feller like you, but—" She stopped + suddenly and glanced at Washburn, who was staring at her in surprise, then + went on: "Budd Ridly couldn't change a five-dollar bill, an' he 'lowed I + might settle my fare with the proprietor uv the shebang. Don't blame Budd; + I tol' 'im I wus well acquainted with the new stableman; an' I am, I + reckon, ef <i>any</i>body is. I had business over heer," she went on, as + she got out her old-fashioned pocket-book and fumbled it with trembling + fingers. "I couldn't attend to it by writin'; some'n's gone wrong with the + mails; it looks like I cayn't git no answers to the letters I write." + </p> + <p> + Washburn took the money and went into the office for the change. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't see what good it would do to write, Mrs. Dawson," said + Westerfelt; "maybe it was wrong for me not to, but I've had a lot to bear; + and you—" + </p> + <p> + "<i>That</i> you have," she interrupted, her face hardening, as she looked + across the ploughed fields, bordered by strips of yellow broom-sedge, + towards the pine forests in the west. "You wus cut bad, I heer, an' laid + up fer a week ur so, an' then the skeer them Whitecaps give you on top of + it must a' been awful to a proud sperit like yore'n; but even sech as that + will wear off <i>in time</i>. But nothin' <i>human</i>, John Westerfelt—nothin' + <i>human</i> kin fetch back the dead. Sally's place is unoccupied. I'm + doin' her work every day, an' her dressin' an' pore little Sunday fixin's + is all still a-hangin' on the wall. She wus the only gal—" + </p> + <p> + Washburn came back with the change. The old woman's thin hands quivered as + she took the coin and slowly counted the pieces into her pocket-book, + Washburn suspected from the expression of Westerfelt's face that the + conversation was of a private nature, so he went out to the hack to help + Budd unharness the horses. + </p> + <p> + "No," went on the old woman, sternly, "you've brought about a pile o' + misery in yore life, John Westerfelt, an' you hain't a-gwine to throw it + off like a ol' coat, an' dance an' make merry. You may try that game; but + yore day is over; you already bear the mark of it in yore face an' sunk + cheeks. You've got another gal on yore string by this time, too." + </p> + <p> + "You are mistaken, Mrs. Dawson." + </p> + <p> + "How about the one at the hotel that nussed you through yore sick spell?" + </p> + <p> + "There is nothing between us." He hesitated, then added: "Nothing at all, + nor there never will be." + </p> + <p> + "<i>You</i> say thar hain't, but that don't prove it. I want to lay eyes + on <i>her</i>; I can tell ef you have been up to yore old tricks when I + see 'er. Ef she's got a purty face you have." + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + She hitched her burden up on her left hip and curved her body to the + right. "I'm a-gwine to put up thar, an' I'll see. The Bradleys 'll think + quar ef I don't put up with them, I reckon; but I'm gwine to try hotellin' + fer once. Right now it's in my line uv business. Good-mornin'; I don't owe + you anything—nothin' in the money way, I mean. Ah! you think I'm a + devil, I reckon; well, you made me what I am. I'm yore work, John + Westerfelt!" + </p> + <p> + He stood in the stable door and watched the little bent figure walk away. + He saw her pass the cottages, the store, the bar, and enter the hotel; + then he went through the stable into the back yard and stood against the + wall in the warm sunlight. He didn't want Washburn to come to him just + then with any questions about business. A sudden, startling fear had come + to him. He was going to lose Harriet now, and through Mrs. Dawson, and it + would be the just consequences of his early indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVI + </h2> + <p> + As the old woman entered the hotel she saw no one. Looking into the + parlor, and seeing it empty, she went down the hall to the rear of the + house. The door of the dining-room was open. Mrs. Floyd was there + arranging some jars of preserves in the cupboard, and turned at the sound + of the slip-shod feet. + </p> + <p> + "Good-morning," Mrs. Floyd said; "won't you have a seat?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Dawson put her shawl and carpetbag on a chair. "I want to put up heer + to-night," she said. "I never put up at a tavern in my life, an' I'm a + sorter green hand at it. I reckon you could tell that by lookin' at me." + </p> + <p> + "We are pretty full," said Mrs. Floyd; "but we will manage to make a place + for you somehow. My daughter will show you a room. Oh, Harriet!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother." Harriet came in from the kitchen. She had overheard the + conversation. Mrs. Dawson eyed her critically and slowly from head to + foot. + </p> + <p> + "This lady wants to stop with us," said Mrs. Floyd; "show her to the + little room upstairs." + </p> + <p> + Harriet took the carpet-bag. "Do you want to go up now?" + </p> + <p> + "I reckon I mought as well." + </p> + <p> + Harriet preceded her to a little room at the head of the stairs. The girl + was drawing up the window-shade to let light into the room when the old + woman spoke. "You are the gal that nussed John Westerfelt through his + spell, I reckon," she said. + </p> + <p> + Harriet turned to her in surprise. "Yes, he was with us," she replied. "Do + you know him?" + </p> + <p> + "A sight better 'n you do, I'm a-thinkin'," Mrs. Dawson seated herself, + took off her bonnet, and began nervously folding it on her knee. "But not + better 'n you <i>will</i>, ef you don't mind what yo're about." + </p> + <p> + Harriet flushed in mingled embarrassment and anger. Without replying, she + started to leave the room, but Mrs. Dawson caught the skirt of her dress + and detained her. + </p> + <p> + "You don't know who I am. I had a daughter—" + </p> + <p> + "I know all about it." Harriet jerked her skirt from the old woman's hand + and looked angrily into her face. "She drowned herself because he didn't + love her. I do know who you are; you are a devil disguised as a woman! He + may have caused your daughter's death, but he did not do it intentionally, + but you—you would murder him in cold blood if you could. You have + come all the way over here to drive him to desperation. You—you are + a bad woman. I mean it!" + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mrs. Dawson was thrown entirely off her guard by the + unexpected attack. She rose and stretched out a quivering hand for her + carpet-bag, which she had put on the bed. She shifted it excitedly from + one hand to the other, and looked towards the door. + </p> + <p> + "Yo're jest one more uv his fool victims, I kin see that," she gasped. + "He's the deepest, blackest scoundrel on the face of the earth!" + </p> + <p> + Harriet's eyes flashed. "He's the best man I ever saw, and has had more to + put up with. You've come over here to persecute him; but you sha'n't stay + in this house. Get right out; we don't want you!" + </p> + <p> + "Why, Harriet, what on <i>earth</i> do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Floyd, + suddenly entering the room. + </p> + <p> + Harriet pointed at Mrs. Dawson. "This woman has come over here to worry + the life out of Mr. Westerfelt because he didn't marry her daughter. She + wrote threatening letters to him while he was at death's door, and is + doing her best now to drive him crazy. She sha'n't stay under this roof + while I am here. You know I mean exactly what I say, mother. She goes or I + do. Take your choice!" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt has had a lot of trouble," began Mrs. Floyd, wondering + what it could all be about; "everybody here is in sympathy with him. We + are all liable to mistakes; surely you can pardon him if—" + </p> + <p> + "Not while I'm above ground," shrieked the old woman. She dropped her bag, + then picked it up awkwardly, and started to leave by a door which opened + into another room. She burst into hysterical weeping when Mrs. Floyd + caught her arm to detain her. "Not while I'm alive an' have my senses," + she went on, in sobs and piping tones. "I'll hound him to his grave. I + wouldn't stay heer over night to save my life. I'd ruther sleep in a + hay-stack ur in a barn-loft." + </p> + <p> + Harriet turned her white, rigid face to the window, and stood between the + parted curtains as still as a statue. Mrs. Floyd tried again to detain the + old woman, but she flounced out of the room and thumped down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + The next morning a young girl came into the village by one of the mountain + roads. Her face was sad and troubled, and she looked as if she had walked + a long distance. She was poorly dressed, and her shoes were coarse and + coated with dust, but her face was pretty and sweet. + </p> + <p> + In front of the meeting-house she stopped and sat down on a log near the + road-side. When people passed she would draw her sun-bonnet over her face + and turn her head from them. Suddenly she rose and trudged on to the + post-office. + </p> + <p> + It was a busy day at Cartwright, and the little porch was filled with + loungers. Old Jim Hunter was there with his long-barrelled rifle and a + snarling opossum, the tail of which was held between the prongs of a split + stick. When the animal showed a disposition to bite anybody, or crawl + away, he subdued it instantly by turning the stick and twisting its tail. + Joe Longfield had come with a basket of eggs packed in cotton-seed to + exchange for their value in coffee, and the two wags were entertaining the + crowd with jokes at the expense of each other. + </p> + <p> + As the girl passed into the store Martin Worthy was weighing a pail of + butter for a countryman in a slouch hat and a suit of brown jeans. She + returned his nod and went to the little pen in the corner in which the + mail was kept. + </p> + <p> + "I cayn't 'low you but ten cents a pound for yore butter," Worthy said to + the man. "Yore women folks never <i>will</i> work the water out, an' it's + al'ays puffy an' white. Town people don't want sech truck. It has to be + firm and yaller. Look what the Beeson gals fetch once a week. I gladly pay + 'em fifteen fer it." He uncovered a pile of firm golden balls and struck + them with his paddle. "Any woman can make sech butter ef they won't feed + the cows cotton-seed an' will take 'nough trouble." + </p> + <p> + When the man had joined the group outside, Worthy came from behind the + counter into the pen, wiping his hands on a sheet of brown paper. + </p> + <p> + "I don't think thar's a thing fer any o' yore folks, Miss Hettie," he said + to the girl, "but I'll look jest to satisfy you." He took a bundle of + letters from a pigeon-hole and ran them hurriedly through his hands. "Not + a thing," he concluded, putting the letters back; "jest as I thought." + </p> + <p> + She paused for a moment as if about to ask a question. She put a thin hand + on the cover of a sugar-barrel, and looked at him timidly from the depths + of her bonnet as he came out of the pen, but she said nothing. As she + started to go, her skirt caught on a sliver of the barrel, and, as she + stooped to unfasten it, she almost fell forward. But she recovered herself + and went out of the door towards the hitching-rack in front, paused, and + looked back at the road over which she had come. + </p> + <p> + "Don't seem to know exactly whar she <i>does</i> want to go," remarked Jim + Hunter, breaking the silence which had followed her departure from the + store. "Who is she, anyway?" + </p> + <p> + "Oz Fergerson's daughter Hettie," replied Worthy, leaning against the + door-jamb. "She don't look overly well; I reckon that's why she quit + workin' at the hotel. She's dyin' to git a letter from some'rs; she comes + reg'lar every day an' goes away powerfully disappointed." + </p> + <p> + "Never seed her before as I know of," said Longfield, handing Worthy his + basket of eggs. + </p> + <p> + The girl suddenly turned down the sidewalk. She passed Mrs. Webb's cottage + and the bar and went into the hotel. Mrs. Floyd met her at the door. + </p> + <p> + "Mis' Floyd, I want to see Harriet," she said. + </p> + <p> + "She's up-stairs," replied Mrs. Floyd. "I'll call her; but you'd better go + in to the fire." + </p> + <p> + The girl shook her head and muttered something Mrs. Floyd could not + understand, so she left her in the hall. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd found Harriet in her room. "Hettie Fergerson is down-stairs and + wants to see you," she said. "She still acts very strange. I asked her to + go into the parlor, but she wouldn't." + </p> + <p> + "How do you do, Hettie?" said Harriet, as she came down the steps. "Come + into the parlor; you look cold." + </p> + <p> + The girl hesitated, but finally followed Harriet into the warm room. They + sat down before the fire, and there was an awkward silence for several + minutes, then the visitor suddenly pushed back her bonnet and said, in a + hard, desperate tone: + </p> + <p> + "Where is Toot Wambush, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + Harriet looked at her in surprise for an instant, then she answered: + </p> + <p> + "Why, Hettie, how could I know? Nobody in Cartwright does now, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "I thought <i>you</i> might." Both girls were silent for a moment, then + the visitor looked apprehensively over her shoulder at the door. "Is yore + ma coming in here?" + </p> + <p> + "No; she's busy in the kitchen; do you want to see her?" + </p> + <p> + "No." The girl spoke quickly and moved uneasily. + </p> + <p> + "You came to see me?" + </p> + <p> + "I come to see <i>some</i>body—oh, Harriet, I'm so miserable! You + didn't suspicion it, Harriet, but I'm afraid that man has made a plumb + fool of me. I haven't slept hardly one wink since they driv' 'im off. I—" + She put her hand to her eyes, and as she paused Harriet thought she was + crying, but a moment later, when she removed her hand, her eyes were dry. + </p> + <p> + "Why did you come to—to see me, Hettie?" questioned Harriet. + </p> + <p> + "Because," was the slow-coming reply, "I thought maybe he had wrote back + to you." + </p> + <p> + "He has never written to me, Hettie—never a line." + </p> + <p> + The face of the girl brightened. "Then you ain't engaged to him, <i>are</i> + you, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "The idea! of course not." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'm mighty glad of that," exclaimed the visitor. "You see, I'm such a + fool about him I got jealous. Oh, Harriet, there ain't no use in me tryin' + to deceive myself; I know he would marry you at the drop of a hat if you'd + have him. I know that, and still I am crazy about him. I ain't much to + blame, Harriet, if I am foolish. He made me so, an' 'most any pore, lonely + girl like I am would care for a good-looking man like he is. Oh, Harriet, + it is awfully humiliating to have to think it, but I believe the reason he + treats me like he does is that I showed him too plainly how much I loved + him." + </p> + <p> + "I did not suspect till the other day," said Harriet, to avoid that point, + "that he was paying you any particular attention. Mother told me he often + drove you out home." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, la, that ain't a circumstance, Harriet! He used to come out home + mighty nigh every day or night. Pa an' ma think he is a regular prince. + You know he swore pa out of a big whiskey scrape in Atlanta, and since + then pa and him has been mighty thick. They thought all along that Toot + wanted to marry me, and it made 'em mighty proud, and then it began to + look like he was settin' up to you. That's why I quit staying here, + Harriet. I couldn't be around you so much and know—or think, as I + did, that he was beginning to love you." + </p> + <p> + "I don't think," protested Harriet, "that he was ever deeply interested in + me. You must not think that. In fact, I believe now, Hettie, that you and + he will be happily married some day—if he ever gets out of his + trouble." + </p> + <p> + Hettie drew in her breath quickly and held it, raising a glad glance to + the speaker's face. + </p> + <p> + "Why do you think so, Harriet?—oh, you are just saying this to make + me feel better." + </p> + <p> + Harriet deliberated for a moment, then she said: "He was here the night + they run him off—the night they all took Mr. Westerfelt out. Mother + and I had a long talk with him. Mother talked straight to him about + flirting with you, and told him what a good, nice girl you were, and—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, did she, Harriet? I could hug her for it!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, and he talked real nice about you, too, and admitted he had acted + wrong. Hettie, I believe in time that he'll come back and ask you to marry + him. I believe that in the bottom of my heart." + </p> + <p> + The countenance of the visitor was now aglow with hope. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe he will—maybe he will," she said. "I was afraid I let him see + too plain that I was a fool about him, but some men like that, I reckon; + he always seemed to come oftener. Harriet, one thing has worried the life + nearly out of me. I heard Frank Hansard say a young man never would think + as much of a girl after she let him kiss her. I'm no hypocrite—I'm + anything else; but as much as I'd love to have a young man I cared for + kiss me, I'd die in my tracks before I'd let 'im put his arm around me if + I thought it would make 'im think less of me. Do you reckon" (she was + avoiding Harriet's eyes)—"do you think that would make any + difference with Toot—I mean, with any young man?" + </p> + <p> + Harriet smiled in spite of the look of gravity in Hettie's eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Some men might be that way," she finally said, consolingly—she was + thinking of the innate coarseness of Hettie's lover—"but I don't + think Mr. Wambush is. That was one of the first things my mother ever + taught me. She told me she'd learned it by experience when she was a girl. + I don't pretend to be better than other girls, but I've always made men + keep their distance." + </p> + <p> + Hettie shrugged her shoulders, as if to throw off some unpleasant idea. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't care. I'd do it over again. Lord, I couldn't help it. I love + him so, and he is so sweet and good when he tries to be. He thinks I'm all + right, too, in some ways. He says I'm just the girl to marry a dare-devil + like he is. Did you ever know it was me that helped get him away from the + revenue men the night he had a barrel o' whiskey on his wagon?" Hettie + laughed impulsively, and her graceful little body shook all over. + </p> + <p> + "Mother thought you had a hand in it," answered Harriet, with an + appreciative smile. + </p> + <p> + "It was fun," giggled Hettie. "Toot drove nipitytuck down the street from + the Hawkbill as fast as he could lick it, and them a-gallopin' after 'im. + I had been on the front porch talkin' to his father, who was anxious about + 'im and wanted to see 'im. Toot pulled up at the side gate an' said: 'No + use, Het, damn it; I can't make it, and they'll know my horse and wagon + an' prove it on me.' Then I thought what to do; the men wasn't in sight + back there in the woods. Quicker 'n lightnin', I made Toot push the + whiskey across the porch into the kitchen an' shet the door, an' when the + revenue men stopped at the gate Toot was settin' up as cool as a cucumber + in his wagon talkin' to me over the fence. I think he was asking me to get + in the wagon and go out home with him. I never seed—saw 'im so + scared, though, in my life; but la me! it was fun to me, an' I had more + lies on my tongue 'n a dog has fleas. + </p> + <p> + "'Did you have a barrel on that wagon a minute ago?' one of the two men + asked. + </p> + <p> + "'What'n the hell are you talkin' about?' asked Toot. 'I haven't seed—seen + no barrel.'" Hettie was trying to speak correctly, but the spirit of the + narrative ran away with her meagre ideas of grammar. + </p> + <p> + "'Oh,' said I, 'you've got the wrong sow by the ear; a wagon went whizzin' + by here a minute ago like it was shot out of a gun.' + </p> + <p> + "'Which way?' the officer asked, rippin' out an oath that 'u'd a-took the + prize at a cussin'-bee. + </p> + <p> + "I pointed down the road and said: 'I hear it a-clatterin' now,' and off + they galloped. Well, Toot soon loaded the whiskey again and drove off up + the mountain, but he's laughed about that a hundred times and told the + moonshiners about it. Whenever I meet one in the road—I know the + last one of 'em—they ask me if I've seen a whiskey wagon anywheres + about. Harriet," she added, more soberly, "you've give me a sight of + comfort. Now tell me about you-know-who. Toot told me the last time he was + at our house that he knowed you were gone on that new feller. I'm sorry + they fit, but he had no business refusin' to credit Toot. Nobody else ever + did the like, and it was calculated to rile him, especially when he was + full an' loaded for bear, as folks say. How are you and him makin' out, + Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + Harriet's face had taken on a sober look, and she hesitated before + replying; finally she said: + </p> + <p> + "There is nothing between us, Hettie, and I'd rather not talk about him." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I'm <i>so</i> sorry!" the other exclaimed. "He is such a good-looking + man, and so many thought you and him would come to a understanding. They + say a girl gets a mighty good whack at a man when he is laid up flat of + his back. I never have tried it, but it looks reasonable." + </p> + <p> + Then Hettie rose. "I'm goin' to stay to dinner with you all," she said, + "and I'm going out now to help yore ma. Pore woman, she looked dead tired + jest now!" + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Mrs. Floyd came to Harriet, who was still seated in + the parlor, an expression of deep thought on her face. + </p> + <p> + "Harriet," said the old lady, wiping her damp hands on her apron, "Hettie + has gone to work washing dishes in there like a house a-fire. I declare + she's a big help; as soon as she comes about I feel rested, for I know she + won't leave a thing undone. What have you been saying to her? I never saw + her so cheerful. She's been runnin' on in the kitchen like a + fifteen-year-old child. I declare I can't keep from liking her. You must + a-told her some'n about Toot Wambush." + </p> + <p> + "I did," admitted Harriet. "Mother, I've been standing in her way. I + believe he likes her, and will marry her now that I have given him his + last answer." + </p> + <p> + "Do you really, daughter?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I think he will—I'm almost sure of it, and I just had to tell + her so, she looked so down-hearted." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd laid her hand on Harriet's head and smiled. + </p> + <p> + "You deserve to be happy, too, daughter, and somehow I feel like you are + going to be. Mr. Westerfelt is nobody's fool; he knows you're sweet and + good, and—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to talk about him, mother," Harriet said, firmly, as she + rose. "I think we ought to keep Hettie a few days; she'd like to be near + the post-office, I know." + </p> + <p> + "Well, the Lord knows I'm willing," consented Mrs. Floyd, as she followed + her daughter to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVII + </h2> + <h3> + Sue Dawson leaned on the front gate at the Bradleys'. + </h3> + <p> + "Hello! Hello! Hello! in thar!" she cried, in a shrill, piping voice. No + one replied. "I'm a good mind to go in anyway," she thought. "I reckon + they hain't got no bitin' dog." She raised the iron ring from the post and + drew the sagging gate through the grooves worn in the pebbly ground and + entered the yard. The front and back doors were open, and she could see a + portion of the back yard through the hall. + </p> + <p> + No one seemed to be in the house. A young chicken had hopped up the back + steps, crossed the entry, and was stalking about in the hall chirping + hollowly, as if bewildered by its surroundings. Across the rear door a + sudden gust of wind blew a wisp of smoke, and then it occurred to Mrs. + Dawson that some one might be in the back yard. She drove the chicken + before her as she stalked through the hall. + </p> + <p> + Martha Bradley was making soap. With her back to the house, she was + stirring a boiling mixture of grease and lye in a large wash-pot. Under + the eaves of the kitchen stood an ash-hopper, from the bottom of which + trickled a tiny amber stream. + </p> + <p> + "Howdy, Marthy?" said Mrs. Dawson, behind Mrs. Bradley's back. "It was so + still in the house, I 'lowed you wus all dead an' buried." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bradley turned and dropped her paddle. "Why, ef it hain't Mis' + Dawson, as I'm alive! Whar on earth are you bound fer?" + </p> + <p> + "Jest come over fer a day ur so," was the reply. "I thought some o' + stoppin' at the hotel, but, on second thought, I 'lowed you an' Luke + mought think strange ef I did, so heer I am." + </p> + <p> + "I've al'ays got room fer a old neighbor, an' you'd a-been lonely at the + hotel. I'm glad you come, but—" Mrs. Bradley took up her paddle and + began to stir the contents of the pot. "I reckon, I ortter tell you, + plain, Mis' Dawson, that John Westerfelt is stayin' with us. We've got + plenty o' room fer you both, but I thought it mought not be exactly + agreeable fer you." + </p> + <p> + A spiteful fire kindled in Mrs. Dawson's eyes. "It mought upset <i>him</i> + a little speck, Marthy, but I hain't done nothin' to be ashamed uv + myse'f." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bradley went to the ash-hopper and filled a dipper with lye and + poured it into the pot. Then she wiped her hands on her apron. "John + Westerfelt's had enough trouble to kill a ordinary man, Mis' Dawson," she + said, "an' I'm his friend to the backbone; ef you've got any ill-will agin + 'im, don't mention it to me. Besides, now would be a good time fer you to + show Christian forbearance. He's been thoughtless, but heer lately he is a + changed man, an' I believe he's tryin' his level best to do right in God's + sight. He's had a peck o' trouble in one way or another over heer, but, in + addition to that, I'm mistaken ef he don't suffer in secret day and + night." + </p> + <p> + "You don't say," cried Mrs. Dawson, eagerly. "I 'lowed he wus cuttin' a + wide swath over heer." + </p> + <p> + "Never was a bigger mistake. He don't visit a single gal in the place. He + neglects his business, an' spends most o' his time in the woods pretendin' + to hunt, but he seldom fetches back a thing, and you know he used to be + the best shot at the beef matches. Luke thinks his mind is turned a little + bit. Luke happened to go 'long the Shader Rock road t'other day an' seed + John lyin' flat o' his back in the woods. He passed 'im twice inside of a + hour, an' he hadn't moved a peg. No healthy minded man don't carry on that + way, Mis' Dawson." + </p> + <p> + "Hain't he a-settin' up to that hotel gal?" Mrs. Bradley turned towards + the house with her guest. "No, he hain't," she answered. "She nussed him + when he wus down, an'—well, maybe she does kinder fancy <i>him</i> a + little—any natcherl girl would—I don't say she <i>does</i> nor + <i>doesn't</i>, but he hain't been to see 'er, to my knowledge, a single + time, nur has never tuk her out to any o' the parties. No, thar's nothin' + twixt 'em; she tried to git 'im to come stay at the hotel when he wus sick + atter the Whitecap outrage, an' I thought she acted a little for'ard then, + but he refused an' come to us instead." + </p> + <p> + "You don't say so; why, I heerd—" + </p> + <p> + "A body kin always heer more about a thing fur off than right whar it + happens," concluded Mrs. Bradley. They were now in the sitting-room, and + Mrs. Dawson took off her bonnet and shawl. Mrs. Bradley put some pieces of + pine under the smouldering logs in the fireplace and swept the hearth. + </p> + <p> + That night when Westerfelt came home supper was on the table. He was + surprised to see the visitor, but she did not notice him and he said + nothing to her. The meal passed awkwardly. Luke made an effort to keep up + the conversation with her by asking about his friends in her neighborhood, + but her replies were in a low tone and short, and he finally gave up the + attempt. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt rose from the table before any of the others and left the + house. As he turned from the gate to go to the stable, he looked through + the window and saw Mrs. Dawson move her chair to the fire. He paused and + leaned against the fence. The firelight shone in the old woman's face; it + was sad and careworn. Somehow she reminded him of his mother, as she had + looked a short time before she died. He started on slowly, but came back + again to the same spot. Luke wiped his mouth on the corner of the + table-cloth, rose from the table, and went out at the back door. + Westerfelt heard his merry whistle at the barn. Mrs. Bradley filled a + large pan with dishes and took them into the kitchen. Mrs. Dawson bent + over the fire. Something in the curve of her back and the trembling way + she held her hands to the blaze made him think again of his mother. He + hesitated a moment, then, lifting the ring from the post, he pushed the + gate open and went round the house and into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + In a corner dimly lighted by a tallow-dip, and surrounded by pans, pots, + and cooking utensils, Mrs. Bradley stood washing dishes. She turned when + he entered. + </p> + <p> + "Why," she exclaimed, "I—I thought you'd gone; what are you comin' + in the back way fer?" + </p> + <p> + "I've got something to say to—to her," he said, in a low tone. "I + thought I'd ask you to stay out here for a minute—I won't be long." + </p> + <p> + She said nothing for a moment, but looked at him strangely, as she slowly + dried her hands on a dish-towel. Then she burst out impulsively: + </p> + <p> + "John Westerfelt, ef Luke wusn't so particular 'bout my conduct with men, + I'd kiss you smack dab in the mouth an' hug you; no wonder women make + fools of the'rse'ves about you. Ef anybody ever dares agin to say anything + agin yore character to me, I'll—" + </p> + <p> + She choked up, turned to the corner, and dived into her dishpan, and he + saw only her back. He went into the next room. Mrs. Dawson's dull glance + was fixed on the coals under the logs. She started when she looked up and + saw him behind her, and shrank from him in a pitiful blending of fright + and questioning astonishment as he drew a chair near to hers and sat down. + </p> + <p> + "What do you want, man?" she asked, looking towards the kitchen door, as + if she hoped Mrs. Bradley would appear. + </p> + <p> + "I want to talk to you, Mrs. Dawson," he said. "I don't want you to hate + me any longer. I am awfully sorry for you; I did you a big injury, but I + didn't do it on purpose. I did not dream it would end like it did. I have + suffered over it night and day. It will stick to me the rest of my life." + </p> + <p> + The old woman was rapidly regaining her self-possession and with it her + hatred of him; her eyes flashed in the firelight. The sad expression he + had surprised on her face was gone. + </p> + <p> + "She's in 'er grave," she snarled. "Give 'er back an' I'll git down on my + knees to you, as much as I hate you!" + </p> + <p> + "You know I'm helpless to undo what's been done," he said, regretfully. + </p> + <p> + "Well, take yorese'f out'n my sight then. You've made a' ol' woman + perfectly miserable; go on an' marry, an' be happy, ef you kin." + </p> + <p> + "I never expect to be that. I've repented of my conduct a thousand times. + I have suffered as much as God ought to make a man suffer for a wrong + deed." + </p> + <p> + "Not as much as me, an' I hain't guilty o' no crime nuther." + </p> + <p> + "I've humbly begged your forgiveness. I can do no more." He rose slowly, + despondently. + </p> + <p> + "Git out'n my sight, you vagabond!" Mrs. Dawson's voice rose till the last + word ended in a shriek. + </p> + <p> + Footsteps were heard in the kitchen, the door opened, and Mrs. Bradley + strode in, her face aflame. Westerfelt stepped towards her and put his + hands on her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + "Don't say anything," he said; "for God's sake, pity her." + </p> + <p> + "I cayn't stand it," she blurted out, half crying; "she's gwine entirely + too fur!" She pushed his hands down and stood glaring at Mrs. Dawson. + </p> + <p> + "Look a heer, Sue Dawson," she said, getting her breath fast, "yo're a + older woman an' me, an' I've got due respect fer age an' a gray head, but + John Westerfelt is my friend, an' is a-visitin' of me 'n' Luke at present. + You are welcome in my house ef you'll behave yorese'f decent, but you + cayn't come under my roof to goad him to desperation. Now I've said my + say. Thar's the door ef you dare open yore mouth agin. Thar ain't a speck + o' Christian sperit in you. I'm ashamed to call you neighbor." + </p> + <p> + With an expression of mingled anger and fear in her face, Mrs. Dawson + looked at her hostess, and without a word rose stiffly and went to the + bed, on which lay her shawl, carpet-bag, and bonnet. Her face was to the + wall as she drew her bonnet on and began to tie the strings. + </p> + <p> + "I'll go out the back way," whispered Westerfelt to Mrs. Bradley; "for + God's sake, don't let her go!" + </p> + <p> + "All right," promised Mrs. Bradley; "go on. I'll make 'er stay, I reckon, + but she's as stubborn as a mule." + </p> + <p> + He went through the kitchen, round the house, and out at the gate. He + stopped, leaned against the fence, and watched the two women through the + window. Mrs. Dawson had put on her shawl. She held her bag in front of + her, and stood in the centre of the room. Mrs. Bradley leaned against the + mantel-piece. Their lips moved, and Mrs. Dawson was gesticulating + furiously, but he could not hear their voices. Suddenly Mrs. Bradley took + the bag from the old woman and put it on the bed. Then she untied Mrs. + Dawson's bonnet-strings, took off the bonnet and shawl, and drew her back + to the fire. They stood talking for a moment, then sat down together. Mrs. + Bradley, holding the shawl and bonnet in her lap, put her arm round the + old woman. Mrs. Dawson began fumbling in the pocket of her dress. She got + out her handkerchief and held it to her face, then Mrs. Bradley began to + wipe her own eyes on the corner of her apron. + </p> + <p> + "My God!" groaned Westerfelt, as he turned away, "this is more than I can + bear!" + </p> + <p> + The next day was Sunday. It was as bright and balmy as spring. Westerfelt + slept late. When he went in to breakfast Mrs. Bradley told him that Mrs. + Dawson was out at the barn with Luke. They all intended to go to + camp-meeting that day, she said. A revival had been going on at the + meeting-house for the past week, and the congregation had increased so + much that the little building would no longer hold the people. It had, + therefore, been announced that the Sunday service would be held at Stone + Hill Camp-ground, two miles from the village on the most picturesque of + the Cohutta Valley roads. + </p> + <p> + As Westerfelt went down to the stable after breakfast he saw wagons, + hacks, and old-fashioned carriages standing at nearly every gate on the + street. Washburn and a colored boy, Jake, were at the stable busy washing + and oiling the wheels of vehicles and currying horses. + </p> + <p> + "I wus jest about to send up to you," was Washburn's greeting. "Turnouts + are at a premium to-day. I didn't know whether to let out yore own hoss + an' buggy or not; two or three fellers that want to take the'r girls are + offerin' any price fer some'n to ride in." + </p> + <p> + "I am going myself." + </p> + <p> + "Hossback ur buggy?" + </p> + <p> + "Buggy." Westerfelt turned suddenly and walked back towards the hotel. He + had decided to invite Harriet Floyd to go to camp-meeting with him, let + the consequences be what they might. He wanted to see her, and nothing + should prevent it—not even Mrs. Dawson's presence in the village nor + her threats. + </p> + <p> + As Westerfelt walked away Washburn said to himself; "It u'd be tough on + 'im ef Bascom Bates is ahead of 'im, after all his hangin' back. By + George! I can't imagine who else Bates could 'a' intended to ask; he's + give up goin' to Hansard's. I'll bet my hat Bates means business with Miss + Harriet." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt walked into the parlor of the hotel. A colored girl was + sweeping the carpet and went out to tell Harriet that he wished to see + her. Harriet didn't keep him waiting long. On rising she had dressed for + church. She wore a pretty gray gown with a graceful bow of ribbon at her + throat, and carried her cloak on her arm. She put it on the sofa as she + entered. She was agitated, and he felt her hand quiver when he took it. + </p> + <p> + "I came to ask you to drive to the camp-ground with me," he said, as her + hand slid out of his; "will you go?" + </p> + <p> + "Why—why," she stammered, "I—I—promised to go with Mr. + Bates; I'm very sorry; if I had known—" + </p> + <p> + He glanced through the open door; his face had suddenly grown cold, hard, + and suspicious. He was jealous even of a man she had never been with + before. She sank into a chair and looked up at him helplessly, + appealingly. She knew he was jealous, and in that proof of his love her + heart went out to him. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it don't matter," he said, quickly. "I'm going to drive out myself + anyway, and I thought if you had nobody to take you, you might like to go + 'long." + </p> + <p> + "He asked me yesterday," she faltered. Her voice was full of startled + concern. "I'd rather go with you, you know I had. I have never gone with + him anywhere. We are almost strangers. I—I would hardly know how to + talk to him." + </p> + <p> + She knew it was not with his natural voice that Westerfelt answered. + "Well," he said, coldly, "you can't go with two fellows, and he got to you + first. I reckon Bates knows the roads; you'd better take the river-bottom + route. Washburn says the other is not as good as it might be. Good-bye." + </p> + <p> + He had reached the veranda when she called him back. As he re-entered the + room she rose and stepped towards him. + </p> + <p> + "Are you mad with me, Mr. Westerfelt?" + </p> + <p> + He was ashamed of himself, but he could not conquer his horrible humor. + "Not in the least; I don't blame you." His tone was still cold and his + glance averted. She put her handkerchief to her face in vexation, but + removed it quickly as she caught his glance. + </p> + <p> + "I'll not go; I'll stay at home," she affirmed. + </p> + <p> + "No, go; you'd never hear the end of it if you were to slight Bates." + </p> + <p> + "Shall I see you out there?" + </p> + <p> + "I reckon not," he laughed, harshly. "I never want anybody bothering me + when I take a girl anywhere, and I try to obey the Golden Rule with other + men. You belong to Bates to-day." He left the room. She heard him stride + across the veranda and walk hurriedly away. She went to the window and + tried to catch another glimpse of him, but he was out of sight. She turned + into the next room. Her mother was there packing some table linen into the + bottom of a wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," the girl faltered, "Mr. Westerfelt asked me just now to go to + the camp-ground with him." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd let a table-cloth which she was folding hang down in front of + her for a moment as she looked at Harriet. "Well, you told him you was + going with Bascom Bates, didn't you?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, of course, but—" + </p> + <p> + "Well, what of it? I wish you'd just look what a mess the rats have gone + and made of this linen. They've been trying to gnaw the starch out of it, + and have cut holes in nearly every piece." + </p> + <p> + "He looked mad, mother; he pretended he didn't care, but I never saw such + a look on anybody's face. Oh, mother—" + </p> + <p> + "Harriet!" Mrs. Floyd looked straight into the girl's eyes as she closed + the wardrobe door and turned the key. "Looky' here, I'm older than you, + and I know men a sight better. Mr. Westerfelt is a nice man and a good + enough catch, but he's got plenty of faults. You've just got to listen to + reason. Some men will despise a girl quicker for letting themselves be run + over than anything else, and he's one of that sort. He has deliberately + insulted you by throwing up a delicate matter to you, which God knows you + couldn't help, and now—well, he's a purty thing to dictate to you + who you go with—" + </p> + <p> + "Mother, something was wrong with his mind when he said that," interrupted + Harriet. "He's just gettin' well, that's all. Oh, mother, he loves me—I + know he does—I know it! I'll bet he hardly remembers what he said. + And now this old Bascom Bates has come between us." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd was moved, in spite of her desire to hold her ground. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she admitted, "I think he acts like he loves you, and after staying + away so long, his wanting to go with you to-day looks powerful like he has + come to his senses at last. But you will spoil it all if you slight + another respectable man to please him. That's the long and short of it. + Now, you take my advice and give him as good as he sends every time, and a + little more to boot. It's a woman's right." + </p> + <p> + "Mother, you don't know Mr. Westerfelt; he—" + </p> + <p> + "La! yes, I do; they are every one p'int-blank alike. They want what they + can't get, and what other men have, a sight more than what is in easy + reach. If you've got any gumption, you'll make him think you are having a + mighty good time with Bascom Bates to-day. If Bascom keeps coming to see + you it will make him think all the more of you, too. Bates belongs to + mighty nigh as good stock as he does anyway, and folks say he is the + sharpest trader and note-shaver in the county. Ef you don't encourage him + to come regular I shall do it for you. And if I ever get a chance I'll + throw out a hint to Westerfelt that you have a little leaning towards the + law anyway." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want you to do that, mother," objected Harriet, quite seriously. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd laughed slyly as she turned away. "You leave them two Jakes to + me. I feel like I was a girl again. We used to have lots o' fun with Mr. + Floyd, me 'n' mother did. Did I ever tell you the time me'n' her—" + But Harriet, with a preoccupied air, had turned away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Westerfelt went back to the stable and ordered Jake to get out his horse + and buggy. Washburn watched him over the back of the mule he was hitching + to a spring wagon and smiled. "Got it in the neck that pop!" he murmured. + "I knowed Bates wusn't a-buyin' a new whip an' lap-robe fer nothin'. I'll + bet my life Mr. Westerfelt 'll lose that gal, an', by George, he ort to! + He don't seem to know his own mind." + </p> + <p> + Just then Bascom Bates whirled by on his way to the hotel. There was + something glaringly incongruous between his glistening silk hat and the + long-haired "plough horse" and rickety buggy he was driving. The silk hat + was a sort of badge of office; lawyers wore them, as a rule, and he was + the only lawyer at Cartwright. He had bought his silk hat on the day of + his admission to the bar, and had worn it regularly on dry Sundays ever + since. It would have suited anybody else better than it did him. He was + not at all good-looking. His hair was stiff and rather red, his eyes were + pale blue, his face was freckled, and the skin of his neck had a way of + folding itself unattractively. He wore thick cow-leather shoes, which he + never blacked, but greased frequently, and that made them catch and hold + the dust. He never considered himself carefully dressed unless all the + buttons of his vest were unfastened, except one at the top and one at the + bottom. The gap between the two buttons was considered quite a touch of + rural style. He held the reins, but a little negro boy sat on the seat + beside him. He was taking the boy to hold his horse while he went into the + hotel after Harriet. That, too, was considered quite the proper thing—a + custom which had come down from slavery days—and as there was a + scarcity of black boys in the village, Bates had brought his all the way + from his father's plantation. The boy was expected to walk back home after + the couple got started, but Bates intended to give him something for his + trouble, and the distinction of holding Mr. Bates's horse in town was + something the boy never expected to forget. + </p> + <p> + Bates had been a common farm-boy before he studied law, and the handles of + ploughs, axes, and grubbing-hoes had enlarged the joints of his fingers + and hardened his palms. He had studied at night, earned a reputation as an + off-hand speaker hard to be downed in debating societies, made a few + speeches on the stump for willing gubernatorial candidates, and was now + looked upon as a possible Democratic nominee for the Legislature. Most + young lawyers in that part of the State were called "Colonel," and Bates + had been addressed by the title once or twice. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt pretended not to see him as he passed, but he urged Jake to + hurry up and get out his horse and buggy. He had a strange idea that it + would humiliate him in Harriet's eyes to be seen by her as she passed with + a man he now regarded as a rival. He would have given much to have had any + sort of companion with him. Jake had some difficulty in backing the horse + into the shafts, and before Westerfelt could get started, he saw Harriet + come out on the veranda and follow Bates to his buggy. However, Westerfelt + managed to get started before they did, and drove on without looking back. + Knowing that Bates was fond of fast driving, and fearing that he might + overtake him, Westerfelt drove rapidly. The fires of jealousy were raging + within him. He told himself that it would be a long time before he would + ask her again to go with him anywhere, and during that drive he almost + convinced himself that he could give her up without much regret. He was + sure Bates wanted to marry her. Such a stolid, matter-of-fact man would + never visit a girl with less serious intentions. Bates, of course, was + ignorant of the girl's early love for Wambush. He wondered if she would + ever confess to the lawyer as she had to him. He thought it unlikely; for + he had found it out and mentioned it to her first, and, besides, her + experience with him had taught her discretion. Westerfelt would have been + more generous in his estimation of her character had he been less jealous, + and less angered by the disappointment of not being her escort. People + driving slow teams looked at him curiously as he dashed past them. He had + but one desire at that moment, and that was not to face Harriet and Bates + together. + </p> + <p> + The road, near the camp-ground, went through a dense wood, and was so + narrow that vehicles could not pass one another on it. In the narrowest + part of this road Westerfelt was forced to stop. A wagon filled with women + and children, and driven by old John Wambush, had halted in front of him. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" Westerfelt called out to the old man, who had got + down beside his horses and was peering at the motionless line of vehicles + ahead. + </p> + <p> + "A hack's broke down," the old fellow replied. "Nobody hurt, it seems, but + the banks on both sides is so steep that they cayn't cleer the road. We'll + have to take our time. I'd jest about as soon set heer in my wagon as to + listen to them long-winded preachers, anyway." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt heard the beat of hoofs behind him. He was sure Bates and + Harriet were approaching, but he dared not look around. Through the trees + came the sound of singing from the camp-ground. The horse behind got + nearer and nearer, till it stopped with its nose in the back part of + Westerfelt's buggy, Westerfelt did not turn his head. He leaned over the + dash-board and impatiently called out to old Wambush: + </p> + <p> + "How long are they going to keep us?" + </p> + <p> + "Tell kingdom come ur Gabriel blows his horn," laughed the old man, and + all his family and the neighbors who were sharing the hospitality of his + wagon joined in the laugh. It was a thing the old man would have said to + anybody else and in the same tone, but it irritated Westerfelt. The + silence of the couple behind convinced him that it was Bates and Harriet, + for men in love do not talk much. Mrs. Wambush turned her head and took + off her gingham bonnet to get a good look at the man her son had tried + twice to kill. Her features were so much like Toot's that Westerfelt, who + had never seen her before, thought he had discovered the fountain-head of + the young outlaw's villany. He glanced aside, but she continued to stare + at him fixedly. + </p> + <p> + "How are you comin' on?" she asked him, slapping a little girl in a blue + homespun dress who was about to fall out of the wagon. + </p> + <p> + "Pretty well, thank you," replied Westerfelt, coldly. He had detected a + suggestion of a sneer about the old woman's lips. + </p> + <p> + "Cuts <i>is</i> a bad thing," she went on. "I reckon yore doctor bill run + up to some more'n you'd 'a' lost that day by jest lettin' my boy have + some'n to ride out home in." + </p> + <p> + "Dry up!" thundered old Wambush. He climbed back into his chair and glared + at her. "Ef you dare open yore mouth agin, I'll make you git right out an' + make tracks fer home." The old woman jerked on her bonnet and turned her + face towards the horses. Old Wambush looked over his shoulder at + Westerfelt, a sheepish look on his face. + </p> + <p> + "Don't pay no 'tention to her," he apologized; "she's had the very old + scratch in 'er ever since Toot was run off; I don't harbor no ill-will, + but women ain't got no reason nohow. They never seem to know when peace is + declared. It's the women that's keepin' up all the strife twixt North and + South right now. Them that shouldered muskets an' fit an' lived on + hard-tack don't want no more uv it." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Hello thar!" The voice was from the buggy behind. Westerfelt turned. It + was Frank Hansard with Jennie Wynn. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" replied Westerfelt, greatly relieved, + </p> + <p> + "Whyn't you git down an' fight it out while we're waitin'?" jested Frank, + in a low voice. "Anything 'u'd be better'n this; but I'll tell you, she's + a regular wild-cat, if you don't know it." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt smiled, but made no response. Beyond Hansard's buggy was + another, and in it sat Harriet and Bates; there was no mistaking the + old-fashioned silk hat and Harriet's gray dress. It seemed to Westerfelt + that the blood in his veins stopped at the sight of the couple sitting so + close together. + </p> + <p> + "Can you see who's behind us?" asked Jennie, mischievously. "It's + undoubtedly a case; they've been connoodlin' all the way an' didn't even + have the politeness to speak to us as we passed 'em in the big road." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt pretended not to hear. Old Wambush's wagon had started. The + camp-ground was soon reached. As Westerfelt was hitching his horse to a + tree, he could not help seeing Bates and Harriet in the bushes not far + away. Bates was taking his horse out of the shafts and looping up the + traces, and she stood looking on. Westerfelt knew that Jake or Washburn + would attend to his horse, so he walked on to the spot where the service + was to be held. + </p> + <p> + The camp-ground was in a level grove of pine-trees, between two steep + hills. A space had been cleared in the centre of the grove and a long shed + built. It was open at the sides and at one end, and filled with benches + without backs. Straw was strewn in the aisles and between the benches. + There was a platform at the closed end of the shed, and on it sat a number + of preachers and elders of the church. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was large. Westerfelt stood for a moment in the phalanx of men + surrounding the shed, and surreptitiously eyed Bates and Harriet. Her back + was towards him as she stood, her cloak on her arm, still politely + watching her escort's movements. She looked so pretty, and there was such + appealing grace in her posture. He saw Bates join her and take her arm, + and then he watched them no longer. He knew they were coming, and he went + in at the end of the shed and found a seat near the centre on the left. He + saw Luke Bradley drive up and help his wife and Mrs. Dawson to alight, + then Frank Hansard and Jennie Wynn came in and sat on the bench just + behind him. Jennie was laughing in her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + "There is old Mis' Henshaw," she whispered to Frank; "she's the'r regular + stan'-by at shouting. When they begin to call up mourners she commences to + clap 'er hands an' shout, then the rest get over their bashfulness an' the + fun begins. We may see a lot of excitement if the town-people don't come + and freeze 'em out with their finery an' stiff ways." + </p> + <p> + "You ort ter go up yorese'f, Jen," replied Frank; "you need it ef anybody + does." + </p> + <p> + "I went up once," she laughed; "but Mary Trumbull pinched me an' tol' me + to look at ol' Mis' Warlick's dress, right in front of us. It had split + wide open between the shoulders an' all down the back. I thought I'd die + laughin'. They all believed I was cryin', and I got hugged by a whole + string of exhorters." + </p> + <p> + "We'd better lie low," cautioned Frank; "last year, these camp-ground + folks had some town-people indicted for disturbin' public worship, an' + they had a lots o' trouble at court. They say they've determined to break + up the fun that goes on here." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt saw Luke Bradley and his party come in and sit down near the + centre of the shed. He caught Mrs. Dawson's glance, but she quickly looked + away. She had not forgiven him; that fact lay embedded in the sallow + hardness of her face. + </p> + <p> + A moment later he forgot that Mrs. Dawson was in existence, for Harriet + and Bates were coming in. Bates still clutched her arm and carried her + cloak thrown over his shoulder. Westerfelt looked straight ahead at the + platform, but he heard their feet rustling in the straw, and knew that + they had sat down on the bench behind Hansard and Jennie. He overheard + Bates, who could not possibly speak in a whisper, ask her in a mumbling + bass voice if she wanted her cloak, and he saw the shadows of the couple + on the ground as she stood up and allowed him to help her put it on. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the shed had filled to overflowing. A white-haired preacher + raised the tune of a familiar hymn, and the principal service of the day + began. + </p> + <p> + After the sermon was over, the congregation rose to get their + lunch-baskets, which had been left in their vehicles. + </p> + <p> + "Mighty poky business so far," Westerfelt heard Jennie Wynn say, as she + and Hansard went out ahead of him; "wait until after dinner, they'll get + limbered up by that time." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt hoped Harriet and Bates would leave as soon as the others did, + but he saw them standing between the benches as if waiting for some one. + He looked straight ahead of him as he approached them, and was about to + pass without looking in the direction, when Bates caught his arm and + detained him. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Harriet wants to see you," he said, with a grin; "you wouldn't be in + such a hurry if you knew what for." + </p> + <p> + "I want you to come to dinner with us," Harriet said, tremulously, leaning + forward. "Jennie Wynn and I are going to put our baskets together, and + Hyram Longtree and Sue Kirby are coming." + </p> + <p> + "I thank you," he said, "but I reckon I'll have to eat with Mrs. Bradley." + He might have accepted the invitation if Bates had not been grinning so + complacently and looking at Harriet with such a large air of ownership. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, come on," urged Bates. "You get Bradley hash every day; there is + some'n good in our basket; I could smell it all the way out here." + </p> + <p> + "I wish you <i>would</i> come," urged Harriet. "Mrs. Bradley will let you + off." + </p> + <p> + There was something in her look and tone that convinced him that she had + detected his jealousy and was sympathizing with him, and that in itself + angered him. + </p> + <p> + "No, I thank you, not to-day," he said, coldly; "how did you like the + preacher?" + </p> + <p> + "Very well," she replied, her face falling. "I have heard him before." + </p> + <p> + He had brought it on himself, but he was stung to the quick when she + touched Bates's arm, smiled indifferently, and said: "I see Sue and Hyram + out there waiting for us; we'd better go." + </p> + <p> + As Westerfelt walked on, overwhelmed with jealous rage, he heard her in + the same tone ask Jennie Wynn to send Frank after her basket. Westerfelt + edged his way through the crowd to Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. Dawson. + </p> + <p> + "Why," said Mrs. Bradley, "I 'lowed you'd go off an' eat with some o' yore + young friends. But we are glad you come." + </p> + <p> + "I never go back on home folks," he said, making an effort to speak + lightly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I fetched enough fer a dozen field-hands," laughed Mrs. Bradley. + "Two young preachers have promised to eat with me; that's all I've axed. + Luke, you go bring Brother Jones an' his friend, an' wait fer us out at + the wagon." + </p> + <p> + "Why cayn't we fetch the dinner in heer an' not have to sit on the damp + ground?" suggested Bradley. + </p> + <p> + "Beca'se, gumption! they won't have us greasin' up the benches that folks + set on in the'r best duds," she retorted. "Besides, the pine straw will + keep us off'n the ground, ef you ain't too lazy to rake it up." + </p> + <p> + Just then Harriet and her friends passed, and Westerfelt saw the girl + looking inquiringly at Mrs. Dawson. He heard the old woman grunt + contemptuously, and saw her toss her head and fiercely eye Harriet from + head to foot as she went down the aisle. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt shuddered. He wondered if the old woman could possibly know of + Harriet's past connection with Wambush and her girlish infatuation. He + turned away with Luke to get the basket. Bradley was saying something + about a suitable place to spread the lunch, but Westerfelt did not listen. + He could think of nothing but the strange, defiant look in Mrs. Dawson's + eyes as they fell on the girl he loved. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIX + </h2> + <p> + At luncheon Westerfelt sat next to Mrs. Bradley and could not see Mrs. + Dawson, who was on the other side of her. Among the trees on his right, he + had a good view of Harriet Floyd's party. They all seemed exasperatingly + merry. Bates was making himself boyishly conspicuous, running after water, + preparing lemonade, and passing it round to the others, with his silk hat + poised on the back part of his head. Mrs. Bradley and her friends remained + seated for some time after they had finished eating, and Westerfelt saw + the young men in Harriet's party rise, leaving the girls to put the + remains of the lunch into the baskets. Hyram and Frank strolled off + together, and Bates, after a moment's hesitation, came straight over to + Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + "I want to talk to you, if you are through," he said, alternately pulling + at a soiled kid glove on his hand and twisting his stubby mustache. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt rose, conscious that Mrs. Dawson was eying him, and walked down + a little road through the pines. Neither spoke till they were out of sight + of the crowd. Then Bates stopped suddenly and faced his companion. He put + his foot on a fallen log, and cleared his throat. He looked up at the sky + and slowly caressed his chin with his fingers, as Westerfelt had once seen + him do in making a speech before the justice of the peace. + </p> + <p> + "We ain't well acquainted, Westerfelt," he began, stroking his chin + downward and letting his lips meet with a clucking sound, also another + professional habit; "but, you'd find, ef you knew me better, that I never + beat the devil round the stump, as the feller said, an' I'm above board." + He paused for a moment; then he kicked a rotten spot on the log with the + broad heel of his brogan till it crumbled into dust. "I've got some'n to + say to you of a sort o' confidential nature, an' ef you'll let me, I may + ask you a point-blank question." + </p> + <p> + "Fire away," said Westerfelt, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not a ladies' man," continued Bates, with a kick at another soft spot + on the log. "I'm jest a plain Cohutta Mountain, jack-leg lawyer. I've not + been much of a hand to go to the shindigs the young folks have been + gitting up about heer. One reason was I couldn't afford it, another was I + didn't have the time to spare, so I haven't never paid court to any + special young lady in Cartwright. But now, I think I am in purty good + shape to marry. I believe all young men ought to get 'em a wife, an' if I + ever intend to do the like, I'll have to be about it, for I'm no spring + chicken. Now, to make a long story short, I've taken a strong liking to + the girl I fetched out here to-day, an', by George, now that I've got + headed that way, I simply can't wait any longer, nor hold in either. I + intend to ask her to be my wife if—" he began again to kick the log. + "Dang it, it seems to me—you see, I know that she don't care a rap + for Wambush; a few of us thought thar was something between 'em once, but + since he went off it is as plain as day that she is not grieving after + him. But, somehow, it seems to me that she may have a hankering after you. + I don't know why I think so, but if thar is any understanding between you + two I'd take it as a great favor if you'd let me know it, right now at the + start. I'll wish you well—but I'd like to know it. It's a powerful + big thing to me, Westerfelt—the biggest thing I ever tackled yet." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt's face was hard and expressionless. He avoided the lawyer's + searching glance, shrugged his shoulders and smiled coldly. + </p> + <p> + "I am not engaged to her," he said, doggedly; "as far as I know she is + free to—to choose for herself." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" Bates slowly released his chin and caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt could have struck out the light that sprang into his eyes. "I + hain't seen a bit of evidence in that line, I'll admit," went on Bates, + with a chuckle of relief; "but some of the boys and girls seemed to think + that something might have sprung up between you and her while you was laid + up at the hotel. I reckon I was mistaken, but I thought she looked cut up + considerable when you didn't come to dinner with us jest now. She wasn't + lively like the rest." + </p> + <p> + "Pshaw!" said Westerfelt; "you are off the track." + </p> + <p> + "Well, no odds." Bates began to tug at his glove again. "I've come to you + like a man an' made an open breast of it, as the feller said. I intend to + ask her point-blank the very first time I get her alone again. The girl + hain't give me the least bit of hope, but her mother has—a little. I + reckon a feller might take it that way." + </p> + <p> + "What did Mrs. Floyd say?" Westerfelt started, and looked Bates straight + in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, nothing much; I may be a fool to think it meant anything, but this + morning when I called for Miss Harriet the old lady came in and acted + mighty friendly. She asked me to come to dinner with 'em next Sunday, and + said Harriet always was backward about showing a preference for the young + man she really liked, an' said she was shore I didn't care much for her or + I'd come oftener." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was silent. He had never suspected Mrs. Floyd of scheming, but + now that his suspicions were roused he let them run to the opposite + extreme. + </p> + <p> + Yes, he thought, she was trying to marry her daughter off. Perhaps because + she wanted her to forget Wambush, who was certainly a man no sensible + woman would like to have in her family. + </p> + <p> + Bates's round red face appeared in a blur before him. Bates said + something, but it sounded far off, and he did not catch its import. There + was a long silence, and then the lawyer spoke again: + </p> + <p> + "What do you say? Why are you so devilish grum?" He took off his hat, and + wiped his brow with a red bandanna. Westerfelt stared into his face. He + was unable to collect his senses. It was an awful moment for him. If he + intended to marry her, and forget all, he must propose to her at once, or, + urged by her mother, she might marry Bates and be lost to him forever. + Bates caught his arm firmly. + </p> + <p> + "I'm no fool," he said, impatiently. "Dad burn it, you <i>do</i> love her. + I see it! You are trying to throw me off the track! Look heer! If you've + lied to me—" Voices were heard in the bushes up the road. Jennie + Wynn and Harriet were approaching. "There they are now!" exclaimed Bates, + in another tone; "you have not been open with me; for God's sake, don't + keep me in suspense! Is she <i>yours</i>? Answer that!" + </p> + <p> + "I have never asked her." Westerfelt spoke through tight lips. "I've no + claim on her." + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, it's as fair for one of us as the other." Bates was half + angry. "We both want her; let's have it over with. Let's speak out now an' + let her take her choice. If she takes you, you may drive her home; ef it's + me—well, you bet it'll make a man of me. She is the finest girl on + God's green earth. Here they come! What do you say?" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt drew his arm from Bates's grasp, and stared at him with eyes + which seemed paralyzed. + </p> + <p> + "Don't mention me to her," he demanded, coldly. "I'll manage my own + affairs." + </p> + <p> + "All right," Bates lowered his voice, for the two girls were now quite + near; "you may be sure of your case, and I may be making a blamed fool of + myself, but she's worth it." + </p> + <p> + "What are you two confabbin' about?" cried Jennie, in a merry voice. + Neither of the men answered. Harriet looked curiously at them, her glance + resting last and longer on the lawyer. That encouraged him to speak. + </p> + <p> + "I want to see you a minute, Miss Harriet," he said, reaching out for her + sunshade. "May I?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," she said, looking at him in slow surprise. She relinquished + her umbrella, and they walked off together. + </p> + <p> + "What on earth is the matter with that man?" asked Jennie, her eyes on the + receding couple; then she glanced at Westerfelt, and added, with a little + giggle, "What's the matter with <i>you</i>?" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt seemed not to hear. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Bates looks like he's lost his best friend," went on the + irrepressible girl. "Look how he wabbles; he walks like he was following a + plough in new ground. I wouldn't want him to swing my parasol about that + way. What do you reckon ails him?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," said Westerfelt. Her words irritated him like the + persistent buzzing of a mosquito. + </p> + <p> + "I wonder if that fellow is goose enough to go an' fall in love with + Harriet." + </p> + <p> + "What if he should?" Westerfelt was interested. + </p> + <p> + "She hain't in love with him." + </p> + <p> + "How do you know?" + </p> + <p> + "How do I <i>know</i>? Because she is silly enough to be gone on a man + that don't care a snap for her." + </p> + <p> + "Wambush?" + </p> + <p> + "No," scornfully; "<i>you</i>, that's who." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was silent for a moment, then he said: "How do you know I don't + care for her?" + </p> + <p> + "You don't show it; you always stay away from her. They say you've been + spoiled to death by girls over the mountain." + </p> + <p> + "I asked her to come out here with me to-day." + </p> + <p> + "Did you? You don't mean it! Well, I'll bet she—but I'm not goin' to + tell you; you are vain enough already." They were silent for several + minutes after that. She seated herself on a log by the roadside, and he + stood over her, his eyes on the pines behind which Bates and Harriet had + disappeared. What could be keeping them so long? Jennie prattled on for + half an hour, but he did not hear half she said. Afternoon service began. + The preacher gave out the hymn in a solemn, monotonous voice, and the + congregation sang it. + </p> + <p> + "We must be goin' purty soon," said Jennie; "my gracious, what is the + matter with them people; hadn't we better go hunt 'em?" + </p> + <p> + "I think not, they—but there they are now." + </p> + <p> + Harriet and Bates had turned into the road from behind a clump of + blackberry vines, and, with their heads hung down, were slowly + approaching. Looking up and seeing Westerfelt and Jennie, they stopped, + turned their faces aside, and continued talking. + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was numb all over. Had she accepted Bates? He tried to read + their faces, but even the open countenance of Bates revealed nothing. + </p> + <p> + "Come on, you ninnies!" Jennie cried out. "What on earth are you waiting + for?" + </p> + <p> + Her voice jarred on Westerfelt. "Hush! for God's sake, hush!" he + commanded, sharply. "Let's go on—they don't want us!" + </p> + <p> + Wondering over his vehemence, Jennie rose quickly and followed him. He + walked rapidly. She glanced over her shoulder at Harriet and Bates, but + Westerfelt did not look back. When the shed was reached, Jennie asked him + if he were going in with her, but he shook his head, and she entered + alone. He remained in the crowd on the outside, pretending to be listening + to the sermon, but was furtively watching the spot where, concealed by the + trees, Bates and Harriet still lingered. + </p> + <p> + The preacher ended his discourse, started a hymn, and commenced to "call + up mourners." Old Mrs. Henshaw began to pray aloud and clap her hands. The + preacher came down from the platform, gave his hand to her, and she rose + and began to shout. Then the excitement commenced. Others joined in the + shouting and the uproar became deafening. It was a familiar scene to + Westerfelt, but to-day it was all like a dream. He could not keep his eyes + off the trees behind which he had left Harriet with his new rival. What + could be keeping them? + </p> + <p> + Presently he saw them emerge from the woods. They were still walking + slowly and close together. Westerfelt could learn nothing from Harriet's + passive face, but Bates now certainly looked depressed. A sudden thought + stunned Westerfelt. Could she have told Bates of her old love for Wambush, + and had he—even he—decided not to marry her? They passed the + shed, went on to Bates's buggy, got into it, and drove down the road to + Cartwright. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XX + </h2> + <p> + The religious excitement had spread over all the congregation. Every bench + held some shouting or praying enthusiast. Some of the women began to move + about on the outside, pleading with the bystanders to go forward for + prayer. One of them spoke to Westerfelt, but he simply shook his head. + Just then he noticed Mrs. Dawson sitting on the end of a bench next to the + centre aisle. She had turned half round and was staring at him fixedly. + When she caught his eye, she got up and came towards him. Other women were + talking to men near him, and no one noticed her approach. + </p> + <p> + In the depths of her bonnet her withered face had never appeared so hard + and unrelenting. She laid her hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Are you a seeker, John Westerfelt?" she asked, with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + "No, I am not." He tried to draw his arm away, but her bony fingers + clutched and held it. + </p> + <p> + "They say the's a chance fer all to wipe out sins," she went on, "but I + have my doubts 'bout you. You know whar you'll land. You kin mighty nigh + feel the hot now, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + He caught her wrist and tore his arm from her grasp. + </p> + <p> + "Leave me alone!" he cried; then he dropped her wrist and added: "For + Heaven sake don't—<i>don't</i> devil me to death; you make me forget + you are a woman and not a beast—a snake! My God, let me alone!" + </p> + <p> + His angry tone had drawn the attention of a few of the bystanders. A tall, + lank countryman, standing near Westerfelt, turned on him. + </p> + <p> + "Be ashamed o' yorese'f, young man," he said; "ef you don't want to be + prayed fer you don't have to, but don't cut up any o' yore shines with + these Christian women who are tryin' to do good." + </p> + <p> + "You don't know what you are talking about," replied Westerfelt, and he + turned away quickly, and went across the cleared space to his horse and + buggy. Jake, who was lying on the ground with some other negroes, ran + forward and unfastened his horse, and gave him the reins. + </p> + <p> + "Want me to go back wid yer, Marse John?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "No," answered Westerfelt, and he drove rapidly homeward. Reaching the + stable, he put up his horse, and went to the room over the office. He sat + down, took up an old newspaper, and tried to read it, but there seemed to + be something in the paling light on the bare fields outside and the + stillness of the empty building that oppressed him. He rose and looked out + of the window. Not a soul was in sight. The store and the bar, with their + closed shutters, looked as if they had not been opened for a century. A + brindled cow stood in the middle of the street, jangling a discordant + bell, and lowing dolefully. He rose, went down-stairs, walked aimlessly + about in the stable, and then went up the street towards Bradley's. He + wondered if Harriet had returned, but as he passed the hotel he had not + the courage to look in. + </p> + <p> + Every door of the Bradley house was closed. He tried all the windows, but + they were held down by sticks placed over the sashes on the inside. Even + the chickens and ducks in the back yard seemed to have fallen under the + spell of the unwonted silence. The scare-crow in the cornfield beyond the + staked-and-ridered rail fence looked like the corpse of a human being + flattened against the yellow sky. + </p> + <p> + He went out at the gate and turned up the Hawkbill road till he was high + enough to see the village street above the trees. Later he noticed the + vehicles beginning to come back from the camp-ground, and he returned home + by a short path through the fields. He reached the Bradleys' just as Luke + was helping his wife out of the spring-wagon at the gate. + </p> + <p> + "We didn't fetch Mis' Dawson back," explained Mrs. Bradley. "She met some + old acquaintances—the Hambrights—an' they made 'er go home + with 'em. Lawsy me, haven't I got a lots to tell you, though! You had as + well prepare fer a big surprise. You couldn't guess what tuk place out + thar atter you left ef you made a thousand dabs at it. Luke, go put up the + hoss. I want to talk to John, an' I don't want you to bother us tell I'm + through, nuther. You kin find plenty to do out at the barn fer a few + minutes." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt followed her into the sitting-room and helped her kindle the + fire in the big chimney. + </p> + <p> + "Well, what has happened?" he asked, when the red flames were rolling up + from the heap of split pine under the logs. + </p> + <p> + "It's about Mis' Dawson," announced Mrs. Bradley, as she sank into a big + chair and began to unpin her shawl. "She's got religion!" + </p> + <p> + "You don't mean it!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, an' I'm what give it to her—me, an' nobody else. I'm a purty + thing to be talkin' that way, but it's the livin' truth. I caused it. When + I seed her git up an' go acrost to you and drive you clean off, I got so + mad I could a-choked her. I wus sittin' by Brother Tim Mitchell. You don't + know 'im, I reckon, but he's the biggest bull-dog preacher 'at ever give + out a hymn. He's a ugly customer, not more'n thirty, but he's consecrated, + an' had ruther rake a sinner over the coals of repentance 'an eat fried + chicken, an' he's a Methodist preacher, too. He's nearly six foot an' a + half high an' as slim as a splinter; he lets his hair run long an' curls + it some. He's as dark as a Spaniard, an' his face shines like he eats too + much grease an' sweats it out through the pores uv his skin. + </p> + <p> + "Well, he seed me a-lookin' at Mis' Dawson, when she went to devil you, + an' he bent over to me an' sez he: 'Sister Bradley, what ails that woman + anyhow?' + </p> + <p> + "'What ails her?' sez I. 'What'd you ax that fer, Brother Tim?' + </p> + <p> + "'She don't do nat'ral,' sez he. 'I've been talkin' to 'er about 'er + speritual welfare ever sence I set down heer, an' she won't say one word. + She ain't a bit like the gineral run o' old women; an' what's more, she + hain't doin' one bit o' exhortin' that I kin see. I don't know whether + she's in the vineyard or not.' + </p> + <p> + "Then, John Westerfelt, I jest come out an' tol' 'im about 'er. Of course + I never give no names; but I made 'im see what ailed her, an' I never seed + a man look so interested. 'Sister Bradley,' sez he, rubbin' his hands, + when I got through, 'I'm going to wade in an' get hold o' that woman's + soul.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well,' sez I, 'you may have to wade purty fur an' dive consider'ble, fer + she's about the toughest snag you ever struck.' + </p> + <p> + "'I'm a-goin' to have 'er <i>soul</i>,' sez he, an' he laughed. 'I'd + ruther make that sort of a struggle for the Lord 'an to put out a burnin' + house, ur keep a pizen snake frum bitin' a baby. You watch my smoke. Is + she a-comin' back heer?' + </p> + <p> + "'I kin bring 'er back,' sez I, 'fer right this minute I'd ruther see that + woman a shoutin' convert 'n to have a meal sack full o' gold dollars.' + </p> + <p> + "'Well,' sez he, sorter jokin' like, 'you fetch 'er heer an' set 'er down + whar she wus a minute ago, an' I'll put a plaster on 'er back that'll make + 'er <i>think</i> she's shoutin' whether she is or not.' + </p> + <p> + "Well, I went to whar she was outside an' tol' 'er Brother Mitchell wanted + to see 'er. 'I jest ain't a-goin' a step,' sez she, 'so I ain't,' an' she + looked sorter suspicious. + </p> + <p> + "'Well, I don't railly see how yo're goin' to help yorese'f, Mis' Dawson,' + sez I. 'Goodness knows yo're showin' mighty little int'rust in the meetin' + anyways. Looks like you wouldn't insult one of the most saintly men we got + by turnin' yore back on 'im. Mebby he wants to ax about startin' a meetin' + over yore way. You'd better go.' + </p> + <p> + "That settled it; I took 'er back an' set 'er down by him, an' he begun to + git in his work. I never knowed a man called to preach could be so + mealy-mouthed. He begun—you see I was next to him an' could ketch + ev'ry word, although thar was jest a regular hullabaloo o' shoutin' an' + singin' goin' on all about—he begun by goin' over his own family + trouble, an' I wanted to laugh out, fer the Lord knows, while Brother + Tim's folks has had <i>some</i> few ordinary reverses, an' <i>did</i> lose + a few head o' stock in the war, an' one o' the gals married a no-'count + Yankee carpenter an' never would write back home, an' Brother Mitchell's + ma an' pa died uv ripe old age—but, as I say, nobody ever thought + they wus particular unfortunate. Howsomever, she thought they wus from his + tale an' his sad, mournful way o' talkin'. Job an' all he went through, + b'iles an' all, wasn't a circumstance, an' it was all the Lord's doin's, + Brother Tim said, to show him the true light. I seed she was listenin' an' + that he had hold uv 'er some, but I kinder thought she wusn't as easy prey + as he 'lowed, fer he broke down once in awhile an' had a sort o' sickly, + quivery look about the mouth. All at once he turned to me as mad as a + hornet. Sez he: 'It's that dern bonnet,'—no, he didn't say that + exactly. I heer Luke say them things so much 'at his words slip in when + I'm in a hurry—'it's that bonnet o' her'n, Sister Bradley,' sez he. + 'I'll never git 'er in a wearin' way as long as that poke keeps bobbin' up + an' down twixt me 'n her eyes. Cayn't you manage to git it off?' + </p> + <p> + "Well, you kin imagine that wus a difficult thing to do, but I reckon the + Lord o' Hosts must 'a' been with us, fer all at once a idee come to me an' + I jest leaned over to her. 'Sister Dawson,' sez I, 'I beg yore pardon, but + the skirt o' yore bonnet is ripped, le'me see it a minute,' an', la me! + Brother Mitchell's eyes fairly danced in his head. I heerd him laugh out + sudden an' then he kivered his mouth 'ith his long, bony hand an' coughed + as I snatched the bonnet frum 'er head an' begun to tear a seam open. She + made a grab over his spindlin' legs fer it, but I paid no attention to + 'er, pretendin' to be fixin' it. Then the fun begun. I seed 'im lay hold + of 'er wrists an' look 'er spank, dab in the eyes, an' 'en he begun to + rant. Purty soon I seed her back limberin' up an' I knowed, as the sayin' + is, that she was our meat. All at once, still a-hold o' 'er hands, he + turned to me, an' sez he: 'Go ax Brother Quagmire to sing "How firm a + foundation" three times, with the second an' last verse left out, an' tell + 'im to foller that up with "Jesus, Lover." Git 'im to walk up an' down + this aisle—this un, remember. Tell 'im I've got a case heer wuth + more 'n a whole bench full o' them scrubs 'at'll backslide as soon as + meetin' 's over; tell 'im to whoop 'em up. Sister Bradley, you are addin' + more feathers to yore wings right now 'an you ever sprouted in one day o' + the Lord's labor. But, for all you do, hold on to that blasted devil's + contraption.' He meant the bonnet. + </p> + <p> + "I slid out 'twixt the benches on one side, an' went round to the stand + an' spoke to Brother Quagmire, who wus leadin'; he's the big, white-headed + man they say looks like Moody an' has the scalps o' more sinners in 'is + belt than any man on the war-path. When I tol' 'im what wus up, he giggled + an' said, 'God bless 'im, Mitch is a wheel-hoss!' an' with that he busted + out singin' 'How firm a foundation, ye saints o' the Lord,' an' he waved + his hands up an' down like a buzzard's wings, an' went up our aisle, + a-clappin' an' singin' to beat the Dutch. I never seed the like before. I + wusn't cryin' fer the same reason 'at the rest of 'em wus, but the tears + wus jest a-streamin' down my face like a leaky well-bucket, fer I believed + the thing wus goin' to work, an' I wus thinkin' how glad you'd be. She + looked up an' seed my face an' busted out cryin'. Then Brother Mitchell + ketched 'er up in his arms an' yelled: 'You little, ol', triflin' thing, + I'm a-gwine to put you in the arms o' yore Redeemer,' an' then I jest + couldn't help cryin'. Luke seed me give way an' sneeked off to water the + hosses. John, she was the happiest creetur God ever made. She laid 'er old + bare head in my lap an' cried like a baby. I never railly loved 'er + before, but I did then. Somehow she seemed to be my own mother come back + to life ag'in. But she didn't shout an' take on like the rest. She jest + cried an' cried an' had the youngest look on 'er face I ever seed on a ol' + person. Once she said, sez she, 'I'm goin' back to put a grave-rock over + Jasper's remains,' an' then I remembered folks said she wus too stingy to + do that when Dawson died. She looked like she wanted to talk about you, + but I didn't feel called on to fetch up the subject. After awhile she went + out to the wagon whar her carpet-bag wus, an' got up in one o' the cheers + an' begun to stitch on some'n. I wus puzzled right sharp, fer it wus a + Sunday, an' it looked like a funny thing fer a body to do, but atter + awhile she come to me with some'n wrapped up in a paper—I'll show it + to you in a minute—an' give it to me. It was a pair uv her best knit + wool socks. You know some old women think it's a mark o' great respect to + give a pair o' socks to anybody that they've knit the'rselves. + </p> + <p> + "'I want you to take the socks,' sez she, 'an' give 'em to the right + person,' sez she, awful bashful like. You know, John, I don't believe all + the religion this side o' the burnin' lake kin make some folks beg a + body's pardon, not ef they wanted to wuss than anything on earth. She is + one o' that sort. I 'lowed right off 'at the socks wus fer you an' started + to tell 'er how glad you'd be to git 'em when, all at once, I noticed a + letter M worked in red wool on 'em. It was a letter M as plain as anything + could be, a big letter M, 'an' that throwed me. Then I thought about + Brother Mitchell's name beginnin' with a M, an' so I said, sez I, 'So you + want me to give 'em to Brother Mitchell, do you?' An' 'en she flared up. + 'Who said a word about Brother Mitchell?' she axed. I seed she wusn't + pleased by my mistake, an' so I tried my level best to think o' somebody + else with a M to his name, but I couldn't to save my neck, so at last I + give it up. 'Yo're entirely too mysterious fer me, Mis' Dawson,' sez I. 'I + can't, fer the life o' me, think uv one soul you know whose name begins + with a M.' 'M,' sez she, 'who said that was a letter M? Yo're jest + a-puttin' on. You know that ain't no M.' + </p> + <p> + "'That's what it is,' sez I. 'I haven't waited till I'm old enough to have + gran'children to l'arn my a b c's.' + </p> + <p> + "She snatched the socks frum me, an' I 'lowed she wus goin' to throw 'em + away, but she turned 'em upside down an' helt 'em before my eyes. 'Do you + call that a M?' sez she, an' shore 'nough it was as plain a W as I ever + laid eyes on. + </p> + <p> + "'Oh!' sez I, 'now I see. Do you want me to give 'em to John Westerfelt?' + </p> + <p> + "But she wouldn't say narry a word. I seed how the land lay, fer I knowed + she'd ruther die, religion ur no religion, 'an come right out in so many + words an' say she wus sorry. You know I believe as I'm a-settin' heer 'at + thar'll be folks meetin' on the golden sands of eternity, by the River of + Life, 'at'll pass one another with the'r noses in the air; but I'll take + that back. I reckon thar won't be no noses, nur no air, as fer that + matter; folks that's read up on sech matters says everything will be + different. The Lord knows I hope it will be. I want a change. But I am + gettin' away frum Mis' Dawson. Then I up an' told 'er p'int-blank I wus + goin' to give the socks to you with the compliments of the day, an' ef she + objected she'd better put in 'er complaint in time, but she jest walked + back an' set down in front o' the stand. John, she's that sorry fer all + she's said and done 'at she can't talk about it. These heer socks is all + the proof you need. I don't think she wants to meet you face to face + nuther. She's goin' home in the mornin' in Sam Hambright's wagon. Lord! + Peter Slogan an' his wife never 'll know what to make uv 'er. I'd give a + purty to be thar when she comes, fer they won't know she's converted, an' + she'd be strung up by the toes ruther 'n tell 'em right out." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bradley stood up, and then quickly sat down again. "I thought I'd get + them socks out'n the dinner-basket, but I heer Luke a-comin'. He's like a + fish out o' water. He seed me a-takin' on with Mis' Dawson, an' he thinks + I've got a fresh dose o' religion. I didn't let 'im know no better, an' he + wus grum all the way home. He can't put up with a Christian of the + excitable sort. Hush, don't say a word; watch me devil him, but ef you + don't keep a straight face I'll bust out laughin'. Lordy, I feel good + somehow—I reckon it's beca'se yo're shet o' that old woman's + persecutions." + </p> + <p> + Just then Bradley entered and laid his hat on the bed. Westerfelt now + noticed the unsettled expression of his face and smiled as he thought of + the innocent cause of it. + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Bradley, "are you through with John? It's high time we wus + havin' some'n t' eat." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said his wife, with a doleful expression of countenance, "I reckon + I'm through with him. Set down in that cheer, Luke. I've been talkin' to + John about his speritual welfare, an' it's yore time now. We've got to + turn over a new leaf, Luke—me 'n' you has; we've jest gone fur + enough in iniquity—that is, you have; I've meant well enough all + along." + </p> + <p> + "I say!" Luke sat down uneasily and glanced at Westerfelt, who sat staring + at him with an assumed look of seriousness which threatened to go to + pieces at any instant. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Luke," went on his wife, "you've been my mill-rock long enough, an' + now I'm goin' to take a new an' a firmer stand in my treatment uv you. We + used to hold family prayer an' ax the blessin', an' now our house has got + to be called the dancin'-door to perdition; we've got to quit all that. + I'm a-goin' to smash that jug o' bug-juice o' yo'r'n in the closet, an' + not another speck o' the vile truck shall come in my house." (She caught + Westerfelt's eye, drew down the side of her face which was next to him, + and winked slyly.) + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you are!" Bradley was a picture of absolute misery. He crossed his + legs and then put his feet side by side, only to cross and recross his + legs again. + </p> + <p> + "I've had a great awakenin' to-day, Luke," she went on, "an' now I see + nothin' ahead o' me but one solid blaze o' glory. John heer is convicted, + an' is goin' to do the right thing, but I reckon he won't have as much to + undo as you who are older in wrong livin'. That cow you traded fer with + Fred Wade has to go back early in the mornin'. You knowed the one you + swapped wus mighty nigh dry, an' 'at his'n come home every night with 'er + bag so loaded she could hardly take a step without trippin' up—the + fust thing in the mornin', mind you! I want you to git the Book right now, + too, an' read some, an' let's begin family worship. Thar it is on the + sewin'-machine; I'll bet you ain't looked in it in a month o' Sundays." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was laboriously keeping a straight face, but it was waxing red + as blood and his eyes were protruding from their sockets and twinkling + with a merriment that was a delight to Mrs. Bradley, who kept glancing at + him as she talked. + </p> + <p> + "What in the dev—what do you mean, Marthy?" Bradley stammered. "The + cow kin go back, ef you say so, but blame—but I'll draw a line at + home prayin'. I ain't fittin', that's all; I ain't fittin'." + </p> + <p> + "I know that as well as you do"—Mrs. Bradley wiped a smile from her + face and winked at Westerfelt—"but this blessed Sabbath is a good + time to begin. Git the Book, Luke!" + </p> + <p> + "I'll not do it, Marthy; you may shout an' carry on as much as you like, + with yore sudden religious spurts, but I believe in regularity, one way ur + the other." + </p> + <p> + "Git that Book, Luke Bradley; git it, I say," and then Westerfelt's + laughter burst from him, and he laughed so heartily that an inkling of the + truth seemed forced on Bradley, who had witnessed his wife's practical + joking before. + </p> + <p> + "I believe, on my soul, it's a sell," he said, in a tone of vast relief. + "Lord, I 'lowed you'd gone plumb crazy." + </p> + <p> + And then he was sure it was a joke, for Mrs. Bradley had her head between + her fat knees, and was laughing as he had never heard her laugh before. + </p> + <p> + "I paid you back, you ol' goose," she said, when she could master her + merriment. "You had no business thinkin' I'd lost my senses, jest because + I cried when 'at ol' woman got so happy. I was glad on John's account, but + you don't know a bit more now than you did. You couldn't see a wart on + yore nose ef you wus cross-eyed." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXI + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Dawson reached home the next day about four o'clock in the afternoon. + Mrs. Slogan was seated at her great cumbersome hand-made loom in the + corner of the kitchen, weaving reddish brown jeans for Peter's clothing. + Mrs. Lithicum and her husband were in paying a visit. The latter and + Slogan were talking over a joint hog-killing they were going to have to + save labor and expense. Peter had put a higher mental valuation on the + labor saved than Lithicum. He had discovered, on a former occasion, that + the arrangement had saved him some money, and that Ab had done all the + work, such as directing the black hands and keeping the water just the + proper temperature to remove the bristles without "setting" them. + </p> + <p> + "You see," Peter had remarked to his wife, "Ab works more'n I do; mebby + it's beca'se he's a chawin' man—a smokin' man has to set down to + smoke to do any good, while a chawin' man kin use both hands at any job, + an' jest squirt when an' whar he wants to." + </p> + <p> + Peter went to a window, while Ab was watching the movement of the loom, + and looked across the fields. Suddenly the others heard him utter an + ejaculation of profound astonishment. The loom ceased its monotonous + thumping, and all eyes turned on him. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Lithicum, her round, red face full of + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + "I'll bet narry one o' you could make a good guess." + </p> + <p> + They knew him too well to expect information from him, so they all started + for the window. Mrs. Lithicum reached it first. "As I'm alive!" she cried. + "Mis' Dawson's got back. She's gettin' out uv a wagon down at 'er cabin." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I 'lowed she wouldn't always be gallivantin' about heer and yan," + said the weaver, as she peered over the shoulder of her guest. "I reckon + they've all got tired of 'er over thar an' sent 'er home." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lithicum followed the speaker back to the loom. "Well, I don't know + but I'm a leetle grain sorry," she said. + </p> + <p> + "Sorry!" repeated the sister of the person under discussion. "I don't see + what thar railly is to be sorry about." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lithicum looked as if she had got her foot into it, and she flushed, + but she had her defence ready. "Well, you see, Mis' Slogan, she's tuck a + most unaccountable dislike to Lizzie, an' a pusson like—well, some + <i>do</i> think her trouble has sorter turned 'er brain, an' the's no rail + tellin' what quar notion may strike 'er." + </p> + <p> + "Do you think so, Mis' Lithicum?" Mrs. Slogan retained the big smooth + shuttle in her hand and eyed the speaker anxiously, her eyelids quivering. + </p> + <p> + "To be downright plain, yes, I do. Mis' Slogan, ef she <i>is</i> yore + sister, an' I've thought many a time 'at ef I wus in yore place I wouldn't + feel safe nuther. They say a pusson sometimes gits softenin' o' the brain + frum hatin' folks an' livin' alone like she does. I'd be afeerd to leave + the house open at night ef I wus you." + </p> + <p> + "Well!" suddenly broke in Peter, who was the only one remaining at the + window. "You may have my overcoat an'"—after a pause—"my best + Sunday shirt, too, ef she hain't loaded 'er bed in that wagon an' 's + a-comin' this way as big as the side of a house. She's comin' back heer, + Clariss, Lordy, Lordy!" + </p> + <p> + They all ran to the window again and stood breathlessly watching the + oncoming wagon. "She's off 'er nut now, I know," said Peter. "I know 'er + too well; she never would come back heer ef she wus in 'er right mind." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I don't want to meet 'er—that's one thing certain," cried + Mrs. Lithicum in sudden terror. "She mought pounce upon me on Lizzie's + account. I'm a-goin' home by the path through the cotton-patch. Good day + to all uv you. Ef I was you-uns," she called back from the door, "I'd have + 'er put up!" + </p> + <p> + Abner mutely followed her, and the Slogans were left to solve the problem + for themselves. The wagon drew up at the door, and from their window they + saw the little woman step down over the front wheel and direct the white + driver—they could not hear her voice, but they read the signs of her + hands—to put the few pieces of furniture on the porch. This done, + the wagon clattered away, and Mrs. Dawson, with hanging head, came into + the passage and went to her old room. + </p> + <p> + "What in the name o' goodness do you reckon she's goin' to do?" gasped + Mrs. Slogan, quite pale and cold. "I'm nearly skeerd to death." + </p> + <p> + "She's got a faint idee 'at she's goin' to put up heer with us," answered + Peter with considerable concern for a man of his phlegmatic temperament. + "They say crazy folks jest natcherly drift back into the'r old ruts, an' + the best way is to let 'em alone. Ef she kin feed 'erself we'll be in + luck; some crazy folks jest gaum the'rselves from head to foot an' have to + have constant attention." + </p> + <p> + "But you ain't a-goin' to let 'er stay, are you?" cried his wife. + </p> + <p> + Peter smiled grimly and went to the mantel-piece for his foul-smelling + comforter. He also pulled down from a nail on the wall a dry stalk of + tobacco and proceeded to crush and crumble some of the crisp leaves in his + big palm. + </p> + <p> + "Me? I don't see 'at I've got a thing to say in the matter," he retorted, + with a grimace that bore a slight resemblance to a smile. "You wus tellin' + me jest t'other day 'at the lan' an' house wus in yore name an' her'n, an' + 'at I had no right to put in. I reckon you'll have to manage 'er, + Clariss." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan sank back on the bench of the loom, but she didn't set the + thing in motion; she had an idea that the slightest sound might draw the + attention of the bustling inmate of the room across the passage, and just + then she was not prepared to exchange greetings. + </p> + <p> + Peter stood at the window, his head now enveloped in smoke, and kept + peering out at the porch from which Mrs. Dawson was moving the various + articles pertaining to her bed, such as slats, posts, railings, mattress, + pillows, sheets, and coverings. + </p> + <p> + "She's as busy as a hoss's tail in fly-time," he observed. "Oh, Lawsy + mercy!" + </p> + <p> + This last ejaculation came out with such startled emphasis that his wife + let her mouth fall open as she waited for him to explain. But Peter only + stretched his neck towards the window, holding his pipe behind him to keep + from setting fire to the curtain. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Peter, what is it?" + </p> + <p> + "She hain't fetched a sign of a thing to cook with," he replied. "I kinder + thought I heerd a clatter in that wagon as it driv' off; she's give 'er + coffee-pot an' fryin'-pan an' dishes to the feller that fetched 'er over + heer an' moved 'er things. She intends to eat with us." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan wrung her hands. "Something jest has to be done," she said, + "an' the Lord knows I don't know what it is. Do you reckon she's + dangerous, Peter?" + </p> + <p> + "She's yore sister, Clariss," he chuckled, in spite of the gravity of the + situation, "an' I'd hate to be in yore re'ch ef you wus to lose any more + uv yore mind. As it is, you—" + </p> + <p> + "I wish you'd shet up!" broke in his wife; "this ain't no time fer + foolishness." + </p> + <p> + Then they drew their chairs up to the fireplace and sat down. They could + still hear the old woman moving about, setting things to rights in her + room. Suddenly there was a great clatter of falling slats. The bed had + come down. + </p> + <p> + "She can't put that thing up by 'erself" suggested Peter. "Go in an' he'p + 'er." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do no sech a thing; do you reckon I want 'er to scratch my eyes out? + Huh! She hates me like a rattlesnake, an' has jest come heer so she kin + devil me to death. I see it now. She seed she wusn't worryin' me much over + thar in 'er ol' cabin, an' she's jest bent on gittin' nigher." + </p> + <p> + "I reckon that's jest yore—yore conscience a-talkin'," opined + Slogan. "Thar's no gittin' round it, Clariss, you did sorter rub it in + when Sally wus alive. I often used to wonder how the old creetur managed + to put up with it; you kept ding-dongin' at 'er frum mornin' to night. Ef + she's cracked, yo're purty apt to have it read out to you frum the Book o' + Judgment." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan must have felt the truth of this accusation, for she voiced no + denial. The room across the passage suddenly became quiet. It was evident + that the bed was up; as a further evidence of this, Mrs. Dawson was seen + to go out to the wood-pile and fill her apron with chips and return with + them. + </p> + <p> + "She's got located," remarked Slogan. "She's a-goin' to set in now an' + make 'erse'f comfortable." + </p> + <p> + "She'll burn the house down over our heads," whined Mrs. Slogan. "Oh, + Peter, I'm not satisfied! I'm anything but." + </p> + <p> + The sun went down and night came on. Mrs. Slogan began to prepare supper, + casting, the while, frequent glances at the door opening on the passage. + Peter smoked pipe after pipe without being able to come to any definite + conclusion as to how to surmount the difficulty. Suddenly he looked over + his shoulder and tapped the heel of his shoe with his pipe. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better cook enough fer three," was what he said, "an' make more + coffee. Ef she don't he'p us drink it, we'll need it to keep us company + through the night. I know in reason 'at you won't close yore eyes till—till + we see some way out of the difficulty." + </p> + <p> + "Peter Slogan," said his wife, in a whisper, as she laid the table-cloth + down in a chair and leaned over him, "you skeer the life out o' me when + you talk that away. I never seed you look like you minded anything + before." + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad I show some'n'," he grinned, struggling back into his old + sardonic mood. "I 'lowed I'd got too hardened to feer man, God, ha'nt, ur + devil. Well, I <i>don't</i> keer overly much about havin' a crazy creetur' + so nigh me, an' I ain't a-goin' to, ef I kin see any way out of it. We + ain't a thousand miles from the State asylum." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Slogan moved noiselessly as she unfolded the cloth and spread it. She + put the coffee on the table and poured the floating grounds from the top + into a tin cup. + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you what I'll do," she proposed, timidly. "I'll fix 'er some + supper on that piece o' plank thar, an' a big cup o' coffee sweetened jest + like she used to like it, ef—" She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "Ef what? Out with it!" + </p> + <p> + "Ef you'll take it in thar whar she's at." + </p> + <p> + Peter deliberated and cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + "She's <i>yore</i> sister," he got out, finally, "an' the last time I went + to 'er cabin she wouldn't listen to me no more 'n ef I wus a rat + a-squeakin'. You see, a feller's sorter expected to—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't keer ef she <i>is</i> my sister, I ain't a-goin' in thar, an' + that settles it. I declare I'd be ashamed to call myse'f a man ef I wus + afeerd uv a weakly, bent-over old woman like she is." + </p> + <p> + Peter stirred uneasily in his chair. + </p> + <p> + "I don't keer about holdin' no talk with 'er—ur startin' 'er off by + the sight o' me—but I'll go thar—I see 'er door ain't shet—an' + I'll put the grub whar she'll see it." + </p> + <p> + "Well, that'll do," agreed Mrs. Slogan. "Feedin' 'er ain't a-goin' to make + 'er any wuss, an' it mought have a quietin' effect." + </p> + <p> + Peter took the improvised tray when it was brought to him and went out + with it, returning in a moment. + </p> + <p> + "I ketched 'er a-lookin' right at me," he said, "an' so I jest walked + bold-faced in an' put the stuff on a table in front of 'er. She looked + down in the fire an' didn't speak, an' I didn't nuther. She didn't look + one bit dangerous. Now that I've seed 'er, I reckon I'll sleep some. I'm + dem glad I did. Ef you'll jest take a peep at 'er you'll feel better." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I won't close my two eyes," affirmed his wife. "I hain't seed 'er, + nur I don't intend to, ef I kin git out of it." + </p> + <p> + When supper was ready they softly moved their chairs to their places and + sat down. Mrs. Slogan didn't eat heartily, but Peter's appetite seemed + normal. They had finished eating, Peter had secured his toothpick from the + broom, and they had moved back to the fireplace, when they heard a + stealthy step on the passage floor near the door. The bolt was turned, the + door shutter creaked and moved a few inches. A hand came in sight, and + something wrapped in brown paper was tossed into the centre of the room. + Then the steps receded, and they heard the widow resume her chair. + </p> + <p> + Peter rose curiously and picked up the parcel, and bringing it to the fire + opened it. Its contents were a pair of woollen socks and a pair of + stockings of the same material. On the first had been worked a big red + letter "P" and on the other a capital "C." + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever?" gasped Mrs. Slogan. "I don't believe she's a bit more + crazy 'n I am." + </p> + <p> + "I never 'lowed she wus," said Peter, with a laugh. "I jest thought she + mought be harder to manage 'an you, that's all." + </p> + <p> + "Sister's gone an' had a change o' heart!" declared Mrs. Slogan, ignoring + his joke. "Nothin' else could a-made 'er come back an' give us these + things. I heerd they had a big revival over thar. Oh, Lordy, I do feel so + relieved!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I reckon we mought as well go in an' pay 'er our respects an' git + started," grumbled Peter. "I'm not a-goin' to tote 'er meals about, I'll + tell you that. Slavery day is over." + </p> + <p> + "No, we'll jest let 'er alone," Mrs. Slogan beamed; "she'll know we mean + all right by the supper, an' I reckon she'll move up 'er cheer in the + mornin'; ef she don't, I'll blow the field-horn." + </p> + <p> + Peter lighted another pipe. "I wonder," said he, "how long it'll be 'fore + you an' her 'll be clawin' agin. Religion ur no religion, crazy ur no + crazy, women is jest the same." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXII + </h2> + <p> + When Westerfelt went to bed that night after his talk with Mrs. Bradley + about the conversion of Mrs. Dawson, it was with a certain lightness of + heart and buoyancy of spirits that he had not experienced for a long time. + He did not know exactly how his new feeling would show itself in regard to + Harriet, but he believed he might, in time, cease to look upon her love + for Wambush as such an unpardonable offence. "Surely," he argued, "if Mrs. + Dawson can forgive me for all I have done, I ought to pardon the girl I + love for what she did before she knew me." + </p> + <p> + These were admirable intentions, but he was counting on a depth of nature + that was not his either by inheritance or cultivation. The inflammable + material was still bound up in his breast, and it needed but one spark to + fire it. What he was struggling against had come down to him from a long + line of ancestors, men who would rather have died than brook the thought + of a rival, especially in an inferior; men who would have spurned the love + of their hearts if it were stained with falsehood under any circumstances, + and when, as it was in Westerfelt's case, the provocation was not only + deceit, but ardent love for such a man—ah, there was the rub! + </p> + <p> + The next morning he watched Bates's office from the stable till he saw the + lawyer come down the street and enter. He waited awhile longer, for he saw + Bates go out to the wood-pile and return with an armful of wood. Presently + blue smoke began to rise from the chimney, and Westerfelt went over and + rapped on the door. + </p> + <p> + "Come in!" Bates called out. Westerfelt found him with his back to the + door, sitting over the fire, a leather-bound tome in his lap. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" he cried, seeing who it was; "pull up a seat." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt drew a rickety chair from beneath a dusty desk and sat down. + </p> + <p> + "Did you get home all right?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." Bates closed his book, leaving his forefinger in it for a + book-mark; he removed his foot from the side of the chimney and cleared + his throat. "Miss Harriet asked me to fetch her home early; dang it! I + believe she would a-stayed longer, but she was sorry for me." + </p> + <p> + "Sorry for you—why?" + </p> + <p> + "Because she couldn't see it my way, I reckon." + </p> + <p> + "Did she—refuse you?" + </p> + <p> + Bates threw his book on a table. "Do I look like a man that's goin' to + marry the prettiest and the best girl in the world? Westerfelt, I didn't + sleep a wink last night." + </p> + <p> + "That's bad." + </p> + <p> + "Looky' heer, don't give me any shenanigan; you knowed what she'd do for + me. You knowed mighty well." + </p> + <p> + "Me?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, dad burn it; you know she loves you." + </p> + <p> + "What are you talking about?" + </p> + <p> + "If you don't know it you are a numskull. She intimated to me that she + loved some feller, but that she never intended to marry anybody. I'm no + fool. I know who she meant. Look here!" Bates suddenly rose to his feet. + His face was both white and red in splotches. He grasped the back of his + chair with both his hands and leaned on it. "I've heard o' your doings + over the mountain. She hain't no kin to me, but I'll tell you one thing + right now, Westerfelt, she's a good girl, an' if you trifle with her + feelings you'll have me to whip ur get a licking yorese'f. I'm talking + straight now, man to man." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt rose, and the two men stood side by side, each staring into the + other's face. + </p> + <p> + "Don't be a fool," said Westerfelt, after a slight pause; "don't meddle + with what don't concern you," and he turned and left the room. He had + never allowed a man to threaten him in that sort of way, but he was in no + frame of mind to quarrel. Besides, there was something in the lawyer's + defence of Harriet that made him like the fellow. + </p> + <p> + He was about to cross the street to the stable when he saw Harriet come + out of the hotel and trip along the sidewalk towards the store. She wore + no hat or bonnet, but held a handkerchief over her head to protect her + face from the sun. He was sure she saw him, but she did not show any sign + of recognition. He kept on his way, but when she had disappeared in the + store he hesitated, then stopped, recrossed the street, and turned into + the store after her. She was standing on the grocery side, tapping the + counter with a coin. Martin Worthy was behind the counter, weighing a + package of soda for her. She flushed red and then paled a little as + Westerfelt entered and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + "It's a pretty day," he said. "I'd like to take you to drive after dinner, + if you will go with me. I hated like smoke to miss that ride yesterday." + </p> + <p> + She shook hands with him and then turned to Worthy, who was tying the + package with a piece of twine drawn from a ball in a holder at the + ceiling. Westerfelt was afraid she was going to ignore his invitation + wholly, but she looked round presently and smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + "I shall be glad to go," she answered. "Any one else going?" + </p> + <p> + "No; that is, not that I know of." + </p> + <p> + She leaned over to give Worthy the money, and waited for the change + without glancing again at Westerfelt. + </p> + <p> + She took her parcel and started to leave. "Then I shall come about two + o'clock?" he said, going with her to the door. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. "Very well; I'll be ready," and he stood aside for her to + pass. + </p> + <p> + She walked briskly back to the hotel and into the kitchen, where her + mother was at work. + </p> + <p> + "Did you get it?" Mrs. Floyd asked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, and there's the change." Harriet put down the package and dropped + some pieces of silver into a goblet on the table. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter?" Mrs. Floyd was kneading dough in a great wooden tray, + and she looked at Harriet over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing." + </p> + <p> + "I know there <i>is</i>." Mrs. Floyd turned and began rubbing the dough + from her fingers as a woman puts on a kid glove. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt has asked me to drive with him after dinner," said the + girl. "That's all." + </p> + <p> + "Harriet!" Mrs. Floyd's eyes sparkled with excitement as she sprinkled + some flour over her dough and began to roll the mass back and forth. "I + reckon you will acknowledge <i>now</i> that I know something about young + men. If you had refused to go with Bascom Bates yesterday, Mr. Westerfelt + would have had no respect for you; as it is, he couldn't wait twenty-four + hours to see you. For all you do, don't let him see too plain that you + care for him. Mind what I say!" + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt was impatient for two o'clock to arrive. It was one when he + left Bradley's after dinner. He went to the stable and ordered Jake to get + out his horse and buggy. He would call for her at once; he could not wait + any longer. He felt a sort of sinking sensation at his heart as Jake gave + him the whip and reins, and he was actually trembling when he stopped at + the hotel. Harriet came out on the veranda above and told him she would be + down at once. She did not keep him waiting long, and when she came down, + prettily flushed and neatly attired, his heart bounded and his pulse + quickened. Had she been a queen he could not have felt more respect for + her than he did as he stood shielding her skirt from the wheels and helped + her get seated. He was just about to get in himself when an old man came + down the sidewalk from Worthy's store, headed for the buggy. It was old + John Wambush with a basket of eggs on his arm. + </p> + <p> + "Howdy' do," he said, nodding to them both. "Miss Harriet, is yore ma + needin' any more eggs now? I diskivered another nest this mornin', an' + 'lowed she mought be able to use 'em. She's about the only one in the + place 'at ever has cash to pay fer produce." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, Mr. Wambush," Harriet replied, politely. "She is in the + house; you might go in and see her." + </p> + <p> + The old man shifted his basket to his other arm and hesitated. Westerfelt + got into the buggy and took up the reins. + </p> + <p> + "I reckon, Miss Harriet, you hain't heerd frum Toot sence I seed you?" + </p> + <p> + "No, Mr. Wambush." Westerfelt was not looking at her as she spoke, and the + saddest part of it lay in the fact that he was trying to save her from + what he imagined must be a very embarrassing situation. "No, he has not + written me." + </p> + <p> + "Well"—the old man turned—"as fur as I'm concerned, I'm not + one bit afeerd that he'll not be able to take keer o' hisse'f, but his + mammy is pestered mighty nigh to death about 'im." + </p> + <p> + Just then Mrs. Floyd came out on the porch and threw a kiss at Harriet. + The act and its accompanying smile reminded Westerfelt of the deception + the old lady had played on Bates, and that added weight to the vague + convictions once more alive in his brain. Mrs. Floyd's smile implied a + certain confidence in his credulity and pliability that was galling to his + proud spirit. + </p> + <p> + His horse was mettlesome, and Westerfelt drove rapidly over a good road + which ran along the foot of the mountain. The day was fine, the scenery + glorious, but he was oblivious of their charm. His agony had never been so + great. He kept his eyes on his horse; his face was set, his glance hard. + Once he turned upon her, maddened by the sweet, half-confiding ring in her + voice when she asked him why he was so quiet, but the memory of his + promise never to reproach her again stopped him. With that came a sudden + reckless determination to rid himself of the whole thing by going away, at + least temporarily, and then he remembered that he really had some business + affairs to attend to in Atlanta. + </p> + <p> + "I am going away awhile, Miss Harriet," he told her. + </p> + <p> + "You are, really?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; I'm needed down in Atlanta for a while. I reckon I'll get back in a + few weeks." + </p> + <p> + He saw her face change, but he did not read it correctly. At that moment + he could not have persuaded himself that she cared very much one way or + the other. Surely a girl who had, scarcely six weeks before, sobbed in old + Wambush's arms about her love for his son could not feel anything deeply + pertaining to another man whom she had known such a short time. + </p> + <p> + "Let's go back," he proposed, suddenly, and almost brutally. "I reckon + we've gone far enough. Night comes on mighty quick here in the valley." + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to his in a half-frightened glance, and said: + </p> + <p> + "Yes; let's go back." + </p> + <p> + He turned his horse, and for fifteen minutes they drove along in silence. + There was now absolutely no pity in his heart. The vast black problem of + his own tortured love seemed to be soaking into him from the very air + about him. + </p> + <p> + He broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + "So you refused Bates?" + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again. "How did you know that?" + </p> + <p> + He laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + "He told me so; he's another fool." + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt!" + </p> + <p> + "I beg your pardon," he amended, quickly; "but any man is a fool to be + simply crazy about a woman, and he is." + </p> + <p> + He saw her raise her little shapely hand to her twitching mouth and + experienced one instant's throbbing desire to catch it and hold it and beg + her to have mercy on him and help him throw off the hellish despair that + rested on him. It was a significant fact that she said nothing to protract + the conversation on the line of Bates's proposal. To her the proposal and + rejection of a king by her would have found no place in her thoughts, + facing the incomprehensible mood of the man she loved. It was growing dark + when they reached the hotel. As he aided her to alight he gave her his + hand. "It's good-bye for a while, anyway," he said. + </p> + <p> + She started; her hand was heavy and cold. She caught her breath. "When are + you going, Mr. Westerfelt?" + </p> + <p> + "In the morning after breakfast, by the hack to Darley." + </p> + <p> + That was all. She lowered her head and passed into the house. In the hall + she met her mother. + </p> + <p> + "Great goodness, dear!" exclaimed the old woman; "what on earth did you + run away from him so sudden for?" + </p> + <p> + Harriet pushed past her into the parlor and stood fumbling with the + buttons of her cloak. + </p> + <p> + "Answer me, daughter," pursued Mrs. Floyd; "what did—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, God! don't bother me, mother," cried Harriet. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Floyd held her breath as she drew her daughter down on a sofa and + stared into her face. + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter, daughter? <i>Do</i> tell me." + </p> + <p> + "He's going away," said Harriet. "Oh, mother, I don't know what ails him! + I never saw anybody act as he did. He had little to say, and when he spoke + it looked as if he was mad with me. Oh, mother, sometimes I think he loves + me, and then again—" + </p> + <p> + "He <i>does</i> love you," declared Mrs. Floyd. "I hid behind the curtains + in the parlor and watched him on the sly while he was waiting for you to + come down. I never saw a man show love plainer; he kept looking up at your + window, and his face fairly shone when you come out. You can't fool me. + He's in love, but he's trying to overcome it for—for some reason or + other. High-spirited men do that way, sometimes. Men don't like to give up + their liberty and settle down. But he'll come to time, you see if he + don't." + </p> + <p> + Harriet stood up and started to the door. "Where are you going?" asked her + mother. + </p> + <p> + "Up-stairs," sighed Harriet. "Mother, can you do without my help at + supper? I want to lie down and be alone." + </p> + <p> + "Of course; I won't need you; everything is attended to, and Hettie come + while you was away. She fairly danced when she heard you had gone to drive + with Mr. Westerfelt. She hopes you will speak to him about Toot. She's + heard from him. He wants to come back home and marry her, if Mr. + Westerfelt can be persuaded to withdraw the charges. Do you think he + would, daughter?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I don't know, mother!" Harriet slowly ascended the stairs to her + room, and Mrs. Floyd sat down in the darkening parlor to devise some + scheme; she finally concluded that Harriet was too much in love to manage + her own affairs, and that she would take them in hand. + </p> + <p> + "He loves her, that's certain," she mused, "and he is a man who can be + managed if he is worked just right." She had evidently arrived at an idea + as to what should be done in the emergency, for she put on her cloak and + hat and went up to Harriet's room. The girl sat near the bed, her head + bent over to a pillow. + </p> + <p> + "Daughter," Mrs. Floyd said, laying her hand on Harriet's head, "you stay + here, and don't come down-stairs to-night for all you do. I'm not going to + have people see you looking like that. It will set 'em to talking, after + you've been to ride with Mr. Westerfelt. Stay here; I'll have Hettie fetch + you something to eat." + </p> + <p> + Harriet did not look up or reply, and Mrs. Floyd descended to the street. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Westerfelt was in the yard back of the stable. He had just started home + when he saw a muffled figure enter the front door, and heard Mrs. Floyd + asking Washburn if he were in. + </p> + <p> + "Here I am," he called out; and he approached her as she waited at the + door. + </p> + <p> + "I want to see you a minute, Mr. Westerfelt," she said. "Can you walk back + a piece with me?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he replied. "I'm going up to Bradley's to supper." + </p> + <p> + Outside it was dark; only the lights from the fire in the store and the + big lamp on a post in front of the hotel pierced the gloom. A few yards + from the stable she turned and faced him. + </p> + <p> + "Do you intend to kill my child?" she asked, harshly. + </p> + <p> + "What do you mean?" he answered. + </p> + <p> + "I mean that you will literally kill her—that's exactly what I mean. + You've treated her worse than a brute. What did you do to her this + evening? Tell me; I want to know. I have never seen her act so before." + </p> + <p> + He stopped, leaned against a fence, and stared at her. + </p> + <p> + "I've done nothing; I—" + </p> + <p> + "I know better. She fell in a dead faint as soon as she got to her room. I + undressed her an' put 'er to bed; but something is wrong. She is out of + her head, but she keeps moaning about you, and saying you are going away. + Are you?" + </p> + <p> + "I thought of it, but I won't. I'll stay if—if you think I ought. + I'll do anything, Mrs. Floyd—anything you wish." + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't go off. She'll not live a week if you do. Spare her—she + is all I have left on earth. Think, think how she has suffered. She has + not been well since the night she fainted in the blacksmith's shop an' lay + so long on the cold ground—that was all for your sake, too." + </p> + <p> + "I know that, Mrs. Floyd," he said. "I'll stay. Tell her that—tell + her I'm coming to see her. Can I see her to-night?" + </p> + <p> + The old woman hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "No, she's—she's in bed; but I'll tell her what you said, though. It + will do her good. I'm glad I came to see you. I knew you loved her; you + couldn't help it. She has been so good to you, and no woman ever loved a + man more. When you are married you will both be happy. You'll wonder then + how you could be so silly." + </p> + <p> + "I know I have been a fool." He took her hand and pressed it, almost + affectionately. "Take care of her, Mrs. Floyd; don't let her be sick." + </p> + <p> + She turned to leave him. "She'll be well in the morning, I hope; don't + worry. She will get all right when she's had a rest and a night's sleep. + Now, let me walk on alone; the people talk so much in this place." + </p> + <p> + He stopped behind a clump of sycamore bushes and watched her disappear in + the gloom. He saw her when she went through the light at the store, and + again as she passed under the lamp at the hotel. He followed slowly. He + passed the hotel and looked into the wide hall, but saw no one. + </p> + <p> + A lane led from the street to an open lot behind the hotel. He remembered + that Harriet's room looked out that way, and, hardly knowing why he did + so, he walked down the lane till he could see her window. There was a + light in the room. For several minutes he stood gazing at the window, + feeling his feet sink into the marshy soil. He wondered how he could pass + the long hours of the night without speaking to her. He had just resolved + that he would go to the hotel and implore Mrs. Floyd to let him see + Harriet if only for a moment, when he noticed a shadow on the wall of the + room. It looked like some one sitting at a table. He decided that it must + be Mrs. Floyd watching by Harriet's bed, and in imagination he saw the + girl lying there white and unconscious. Suddenly, however, the shadow + disappeared. The figure rose into the light and crossed the room. It was + Harriet. She wore the same gown she had worn an hour before. She stood for + a moment in the light, as if placing something on the mantel-piece, and + then resumed her seat at the table. The shadow was on the wall again. He + looked at it steadily for twenty minutes. His feet had sunk deeper into + the loam and felt wet and cold. Slowly he trudged back through the lane. + Mrs. Floyd had lied to him. The girl was not ill. At the street corner he + stopped. For an instant he was tempted to go to the hotel and ask Mrs. + Floyd if he could see Harriet for a moment, that he might catch her in + another lie, and then and there face her in it, but he felt too sick at + heart. Harriet had not swooned. Mrs. Floyd had not undressed her and put + her to bed. She had made up the story to excite his sympathy and gain a + point. He groaned as he started on towards Bradley's. Mrs. Floyd had tried + to get Bates to marry the girl, and now was attempting the same thing with + him. And why? + </p> + <p> + At the gate of Bradley's house he stopped. Through the window he saw Luke + and his wife at supper. They had not waited for him. He would not go in. + He could not eat or talk to them. He wanted to be alone to decide what + course to pursue. He crossed the road and plunged into the densest part of + a pine forest. He came to a heap of pine-needles that the wind had massed + together, and sank down on it, hugged his knees to his breast, and + groaned. He wanted to tell his whole story to some one—any one who + would listen and advise him. He could not decide for himself—his + power of reasoning was gone. Suddenly he rose to his feet and started up + the mountain. Taking a short cut, he reached the Hawkbill road, and, with + rapid, swinging strides, began to climb the mountain. + </p> + <p> + As he got higher among the craggy peaks, that rose sombre and majestic in + the moonlight, the air grew more rarified and his breath came short. + </p> + <p> + He could see the few lights of the village scattered here and there in the + dark valley, and hear the clangor of the cast-iron bell at the little + church. It was prayer-meeting night. + </p> + <p> + After a while he left the main road, and without any reason at all for so + doing, he plunged into the tangle of laurel, rhododendron bushes, vines, + and briers. The soles of his shoes had become slick on the pine-needles + and heather, and he slipped and fell several times, but he rose and + struggled on. Then he saw the bare brown cliff of a great canyon over the + tops of the trees, and suddenly realizing the distance he had come he + turned and walked homeward. + </p> + <p> + He found the Bradley house wrapped in darkness. He could hear Luke snoring + out to the gate. He went round the house to the back door. It was + unlocked, and he slipped in and gained his own room. Without undressing he + threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep, but the attempt was vain. He + lay awake all night, and when dawn broke he had not yet decided whether he + was going away or not. He really believed he was losing his mind, but he + did not care. He rose and sat at his window. The sky along the eastern + horizon was turning pale, and the chickens were crowing and flapping their + wings. He heard Bradley lustily clearing his throat as he got out of bed. + Later he heard him in the kitchen making a fire. Westerfelt knew he would + go out to the barn-yard to feed and water his cattle and horses, and he + wanted to avoid him and his cheery morning greeting. Buttoning his coat + round his neck, he tip-toed from his room across the passage and went down + the street to the stable. + </p> + <p> + One of the big sliding-doors had been pushed aside, and in the back yard + he saw Jake washing a buggy, and heard Washburn in one of the rear stalls, + rattling his currycomb and brush together as he groomed a horse. He went + into the office. The outer door was closed, and it would have been dark + there, but for Washburn's lighted lantern which hung on a peg over the + desk. He sat down at the desk and tried anew to think. Presently he + decided that he would go to Atlanta, and that he would write a note to + Mrs. Floyd, telling her of his change of plans. He took up a sheet of + paper and began the note, but was interrupted by Washburn's step outside. + He crumpled the paper in his hand, quickly thrust it into his pocket, and + pretended to be looking over the pages of the ledger which lay open on the + desk. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" Washburn stood in the doorway. "I didn't know you wus heer. + Anything gone wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "No; why?" + </p> + <p> + "It's a little early fer you, that's all." Washburn dropped his brush and + currycomb under the desk, and, full of concern, stood looking down at him. + </p> + <p> + "Thought I'd come down before breakfast" said Westerfelt. "How was + business yesterday?" + </p> + <p> + "Good; nearly everything out, and it wus most all cash—very little + booked." + </p> + <p> + "Wash?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "How much did I agree to pay you by the month?" + </p> + <p> + "Thirty dollars." Washburn glanced at the open ledger. "Have I made any + mistake?" + </p> + <p> + "No, but—but I've been making you do all the work. It isn't fair. + Credit yourself with forty dollars a month from the start and keep it up." + </p> + <p> + Washburn flushed. "I'm mighty much obliged, Mr. Westerfelt. I wusn't + complainin' as it wus." + </p> + <p> + "I know it, but you are a good fellow; I'm going to trust the whole + business to you. Your judgment's as good as mine; do the best you can. I'm + going down to Atlanta for a few days—I don't know for how long, but + I will write you from there." + </p> + <p> + "I'll do the best I can, Mr. Westerfelt, you kin be shore of that." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIV + </h2> + <p> + After breakfast, at Bradley's, Westerfelt went into his room and hastily + packed his valise and told Alf to take it to the stable and put it into + the hack going that morning to the station. Mrs. Bradley came to him in + the entry. + </p> + <p> + "John Westerfelt, what's got into you?" she asked, looking at him with + concern. "Shorely you are not goin' off." + </p> + <p> + "To Atlanta for a few days on business, that's all," he said; "I'll write + back from there." + </p> + <p> + She looked at him curiously, as if not quite satisfied with his + explanation. "Well, hurry back," she said. "Me 'n' Luke'll miss you + mightily." + </p> + <p> + "Tell Luke good-bye for me," he called back from the gate, and she nodded + to him from the hall, but he could not hear what she said. As he + approached the stable, he saw the hack waiting for him at the door. Budd + Ridly sat on the driver's seat. + </p> + <p> + "Time we wus off," he remarked to Westerfelt. "It takes peert drivin' to + catch the two-forty, south-bound." + </p> + <p> + "That's a fact," said Washburn, coming from the stable, "but I'll bet + you'll have to wait a few minutes, anyway." He was looking back in the + direction from whence Westerfelt had come. "I saw Miss Harriet come out o' + the hotel jest after you passed; it looks to me like she's trying to + overtake you." + </p> + <p> + Westerfelt turned and saw Harriet about a hundred yards away. "Maybe she + is," he said. "I'll go meet her." + </p> + <p> + She paused when she saw him approaching, and he noticed that she looked + greatly troubled and was quite pale. + </p> + <p> + "I must see you, Mr. Westerfelt," she said, a catch in her voice. "I came + right at once so you wouldn't get left. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, mother has + just told me what she said to you last night. I don't know what she did it + for—I reckon she thought she was acting right—but I cannot + help her in deception of any kind. I was not sick last night." + </p> + <p> + "I knew you were not," he said, and then he could think of nothing else to + say. + </p> + <p> + "But mother said she told you I was, and that she left the impression on + your mind that it was because you were going off. That is not true, Mr. + Westerfelt. I cannot presume to dictate to you about what you ought to do. + Besides, it really seems a sensible thing for you to go. She said you + promised not to leave, but I can't have it that way." + </p> + <p> + Something in the very firmness of her renunciation of him added weights to + his sinking spirits. + </p> + <p> + "You think it would be best for me to go?" he managed to articulate. "Oh, + do you, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do," she said, emphatically, after a little pause in which she + looked down at the ground. "I am only a girl, a poor weak girl, and then—" + raising her fine eyes steadily to his face—"I have <i>my</i> pride, + too, you see, and it has never been so wounded before. If—if I had + not loved you as I have this would have been over between us long ago. And + then I excused you because you were sick and unjustly persecuted, but you + are well now, Mr. Westerfelt—well enough to know what's right and + just to a defenceless girl." + </p> + <p> + There was now not a trace of color in his face, and he felt as if he were + turning to stone. He found himself absolutely unable to meet her words + with any of his own, but he had never been so completely her slave. + </p> + <p> + "You must answer me one question plainly," she continued, "and I want the + truth. Will you, Mr. Westerfelt?" + </p> + <p> + "If I can I will, Harriet." + </p> + <p> + "On your honor?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, on my honor." + </p> + <p> + "Were you not leaving simply to—to get away from the—(oh, I + don't know how to say it)—the—because you did not want to be + near me?" + </p> + <p> + He shrank back; how was he to reply to such a pointed question? + </p> + <p> + "On your word of honor, Mr. Westerfelt!" + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for him to do but answer in the affirmative, but it + fired him with a desire to justify himself. "But it was not because I + don't love you, Harriet. On the other hand, it was because I do—so + much that the whole thing is simply driving me crazy. As God is my judge, + I worship you—I love you as no man ever loved a woman before. But + when I remember—" + </p> + <p> + "I know what you are going to say," her lip curling in scorn, "and I want + to help you forget my misfortune. Perhaps you will when I tell you that my + feeling for you is dying a natural death, and it is dying because I no + longer respect you as I did." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, God! don't—<i>don't</i> say that, Harriet!" + </p> + <p> + "But I'm only telling you the truth. I would not marry you—not if + you were the only man on earth—not if you were worth your weight in + gold—not if you got down on your knees and asked me a thousand + times." + </p> + <p> + "You would not, Harriet?" + </p> + <p> + "Why should I? A girl wants a husband she can lean on and go to in every + trouble she has. You wouldn't fill the bill, Mr. Westerfelt. Good + gracious, no!" + </p> + <p> + She turned back towards the hotel, and like a man with his intelligence + shaken from him by a superior force, he tried to keep at her side. In + silence they reached the steps of the hotel. + </p> + <p> + "You'll miss that hack if you don't hurry," she said. "Besides, you've + acted as if this was a pest-house ever since mother and I nursed you here + and I made such a fool of myself." + </p> + <p> + "Harriet, if you do not consent to be my wife I don't know what I shall + do. I want you—I want you. I love you, I can't do without you. + That's God's truth. If I hesitated it was only because I was driven crazy + with—" + </p> + <p> + "It's a great pity about your love," she sneered; her eyes flashed, and + she snapped her fingers in his face, her breast rising and falling in + agitation. "Sweethearts may be hard to find, and husbands, too, but I + wouldn't marry you—you who have no more gentlemanly instincts than + to blame a girl for what happened when she was a helpless little baby." + </p> + <p> + "What—what do you mean by that, Harriet?" he questioned, his eyes + opening wide. "I have never—" + </p> + <p> + "You told me—or, at least, you showed it mighty plain—" she + broke in, "that it was because I was a foundling and never knew who my + real parents were that you have such a contempt for me." + </p> + <p> + "Harriet, as God is my judge, I don't know what you're talking about. You + have never mentioned such a thing to me before." + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes, I did," she was studying his startled face curiously, "or rather + you told me you knew about it—that you had heard of it." + </p> + <p> + "But I had never heard of it—I never dreamed of it till this minute. + Besides that would not make a particle of difference to me. It would only + make me love you more—it <i>does</i> make me love you more." + </p> + <p> + Her face clouded over with perplexity. Somebody was coining down the + sidewalk, and she led him into the parlor. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Mr. Westerfelt," she began again, "I—I don't know what to make + of you. It was one day when you were sick here, just after you asked me to + burn a letter you had got. I remember it distinctly." + </p> + <p> + He started. "I was not alluding to that," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Then what were you speaking of?" + </p> + <p> + "Of Wambush, and all the rest. Oh, Harriet, I've tried so hard to forget + him and overcome my—" + </p> + <p> + "What about him? Answer me; what about him?" + </p> + <p> + "The letter I asked you to burn was not for me. It was from old Wambush to + Toot. In it he mentioned you, and how you helped Toot hide that whiskey, + and how you confessed your love and cried in the old man's arms." + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Westerfelt, are you <i>crazy</i>? Are you a raving maniac? I never + did anything like that. Toot Wambush was writing about Hettie Fergusson. + She is his sweetheart; she helped him hide the barrel of whiskey in the + kitchen. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, was that what you've been thinking all this + time?" + </p> + <p> + A great joy had illuminated his face, and he grasped her hands and clung + to them. + </p> + <p> + "Harriet, I see it all now; can you ever forgive me?" + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but hearing her mother's step in the hall she called + out, while she tightened her little fingers over his, "Mother, come in + here; come quick!" + </p> + <p> + "What is it, darling?" asked the old woman, anxiously, as she entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, mother, he thought I was Hettie; he thought I loved Toot Wambush; he + says he doesn't care about the other thing one bit." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I didn't see how he could," said Mrs. Floyd. "I didn't, really." + </p> + <p> + "She hasn't said she will forgive me for thinking she was in love with + Wambush, and making such a fool of myself on account of the mistake," said + Westerfelt. "I wish you'd help me out, Mrs. Floyd." + </p> + <p> + "I may not forgive you for thinking I could love such a man," answered + Harriet, "but I don't blame you a bit for the way you acted. I reckon that + was just jealousy, and that showed he cared for me; don't you think so, + mother?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, daughter, I always have believed that Mr. Westerfelt loved you. And + if I had had the management of this thing there wouldn't have been such a + long misunderstanding. Mr. Westerfelt, Hettie Fergusson is out in the + kitchen, just crazy to know if you will withdraw the charges against Toot + so that he can come back home." + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't prosecute that man," laughed Westerfelt, "not if he'd killed + my best friend. Tell her that, Mrs. Floyd." + </p> + <p> + "Well, she'll be crazy to hear it, and I'll go tell her." She went into + the hall and quickly returned. "Will Washburn is in front and wants to + speak to you," she said. But Washburn came to the door himself, an anxious + look on his face. + </p> + <p> + "The hack's still waitin' fer you, Mr. Westerfelt," he said. "What must I + do about it?" + </p> + <p> + "Tell Ridly to go on without me," laughed Westerfelt. "And—Wash!" he + added. "Take all the money out of the cash drawer and go get blind drunk. + Shoot off all the guns you can find, and set the stable on fire. Wash, + shake hands! I'm the luckiest fellow on God's green earth." + </p> + <p> + Washburn was not dense, and he reddened as it occurred to him that his + reply ought to voice some sort of congratulations. + </p> + <p> + "Ef I'm any jedge o' human natur' yo're both lucky," he stammered. "Mr. + Westerfelt is about the squarest man I ever struck an' would fight a + circular saw bare-handed, an' Miss Harriet, I'll sw'ar I jest can't think + o' nothin' good enough to say about you, except ef you hadn't a-been all + wool an' a yard wide Mr. Westerfelt wouldn't a-been so crazy about you." + Washburn laughed out suddenly, and added, "Some time I'll tell you about + how he used to do at night when he couldn't sleep, especially after Bas' + Bates got to cuttin' his patchin', an' buyin' paper collars an' neckties." + </p> + <p> + After Washburn had left they sat together on the sofa for several minutes + in silence. The pause was broken by Harriet. + </p> + <p> + "I've been trying to make out what God meant by making us go through all + this—you through all your ups and downs, and me mine. Don't you + reckon it was so that He could make us feel just like we do now?" + </p> + <p> + He nodded, but there was a lump of happiness in his throat that kept him + from speaking. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I do," she said. "I used to think He hadn't treated me fair, but I + thank Him with all my heart for <i>all</i> of it—<i>all</i> of it. I + wouldn't alter a thing. I believe you love me, and I can't think of + anything else I could want. I believe you loved me even when you thought I + loved Toot Wambush, and if you did then, I know you will now when I tell + you I never loved any other man but you, and never even allowed any other + man even hold my hand." + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTERFELT*** + + +******* This file should be named 17178-h.htm or 17178-h.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/7/17178 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Harben + + + +Release Date: November 28, 2005 [eBook #17178] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTERFELT*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +WESTERFELT + +A Novel + +by + +WILL N. HARBEN + + + + + + + +New York and London +Harper & Brothers Publishers +1901 +Copyright, 1901, by Harper & Brothers. +All rights reserved. + + + + + +TO + +MY WIFE + + + + +Westerfelt + + +Chapter I + +They had had a quilting at the house of the two sisters that day. Six +or seven women of the neighborhood, of middle age or older, had been in +to sew on the glaring, varicolored square. All day long they had +thrust their needles up and down and gossiped in their slow, +insinuating way, pausing only at noon to move their chairs to the +dinner-table, where they sat with the same set curves to their backs. + +The sun had gone down behind the mountain and the workers had departed, +some traversing the fields and others disappearing by invisible paths +in the near-by wood. The two sisters had taken the finished quilt from +its wooden frame, and were carefully ironing out the wrinkles +preparatory to adding it to the useless stack of its kind in the corner +of the room. + +"I believe, as I'm alive, that it's the purtiest one yet," remarked +Mrs. Slogan. "Leastwise, I hain't seed narry one to beat it. Folks +talks mightily about Mis' Lithicum's last one, but I never did have any +use fer yaller buff, spliced in with indigo an' deep red. I wisht they +was goin' to have the Fair this year; ef I didn't send this un I'm a +liar." + +Mrs. Slogan was a childless married woman of past sixty. Her sister, +Mrs. Dawson, had the softer face of the two, which, perhaps, was due to +her having suffered much and to the companionship of a daughter whom +she loved. She was shorter than her sister by several inches, and had +a small, wrinkled face, thin, gray hair, and a decided stoop. Some +people said she had acquired the stoop in bending so constantly over +her husband's bed during his last protracted illness. Others affirmed +that her sister was slowly nagging the life out of her, and simply +because she had been blessed with that which had been denied her--a +daughter. Be this as it may, everybody who knew Mrs. Slogan knew that +she never lost an opportunity to find fault with the girl, who was +considered quite pretty and had really a gentle, lovable disposition. + +"Whar's Sally?" asked Mrs. Slogan, when she had laid the quilt away. + +"I don't know whar she is," answered Mrs. Dawson. "I reckon she'll be +in directly." + +"I'll be bound you don't know whar she is," retorted the other, with +asperity; "you never keep a eye on 'er. Ef you'd a-watched 'er better +an' kept 'er more at home thar never would 'a' been the talk that's now +goin' about an' makin' you an' her the laughin'-stock of the +settlement. I told you all along that John Westerfelt never had +marryin' in the back o' his head, an' only come to see her beca'se she +was sech a fool about 'im." + +"I seed 'er down the meadow branch just now," broke in her husband, who +sat smoking his clay pipe on the door-step. "She was hard at it, +pickin' flowers as usual. I swear I never seed the like. That gal +certainly takes the rag off'n the bush. I believe she'd let 'possum +an' taters git cold to pick a daisy. But what's the talk?" he ended, +as he turned his head and looked at his wife, who really was the source +of all his information. + +"Why," replied Mrs. Slogan, with undisguised satisfaction in her tone, +"Mis' Simpkins says Westerfelt is goin' with Ab Lithicum's daughter +Lizzie." + +"Well," said Slogan, with a short, gurgling laugh, "what's wrong with +that? A feller as well fixed as Westerfelt is ort to be allowed to +look around a little, as folks say in town when they are a-tradin'. +Lord, sometimes I lie awake at night thinkin' what a good time I mought +'a' had an' what I mought 'a' run across ef I hadn't been in sech a +blamed fool hurry! Lawsy me, I seed a deef an' dumb woman in town +t'other day, and, for a wonder, she wasn't married, nur never had been! +I jest looked at that woman an' my mouth fairly watered." + +"Yo're a born fool," snorted Mrs. Slogan. + +"What's that got to do with John Wester--" + +"Sh--" broke in Mrs. Dawson. "I heer Sally a-comin'." + +"But I _want_ 'er to heer me," cried the woman appealed to, just as the +subject of the conversation entered the room from the passage which +connected the two parts of the house. "It'll do 'er good, I hope, to +know folks think she has made sech a goose of 'erse'f." + +"What have I done now, Aunt Clarissa?" sighed the frail-looking girl, +as she took off her sun-bonnet and stood in the centre of the room, +holding a bunch of wild flowers and delicate maiden-hair fern leaves in +her hand. + +"Why, John Westerfelt has done you exactly as he has many a other gal," +was the bolt the woman hurled. "He's settin' up to Lizzie Lithicum +like a house afire. I don't know but I'm glad of it, too, fer I've +told you time an' time agin that he didn't care a hill o' beans fer no +gal, but was out o' sight out o' mind with one as soon as another un +struck his fancy." + +Sally became deathly pale as she turned to the bed in one of the +corners of the room and laid her flowers down. She was silent for +several minutes. All the others were watching her. Even her mother +seemed to have resigned her to the rude method of awakening which +suited her sister's heartless mood. At first it looked as if Sally +were going to ignore the thrust, but they soon discovered their +mistake, for she suddenly turned upon them with a look on her rigid +face they had never seen there before. It was as if youth had gone +from it, leaving only its ashes. + +"I don't believe one word of it," she said, firmly. "I don't believe +it. I wouldn't believe it was anything but your mean meddling if you +swore it." + +"Did you ever!" gasped Mrs. Slogan; "after all the advice I've give the +foolish girl!" + +"Well, I reckon that's beca'se you don't want to believe it, Sally," +said Slogan, without any intention of abetting his wife. "I don't want +to take sides in yore disputes, but Westerfelt certainly is settin' +square up to Ab's daughter. I seed 'em takin' a ride in his new +hug-me-tight buggy yesterday. She's been off to Cartersville, you +know, an' has come back with dead loads o' finery. They say she's +l'arned to play 'Dixie' on a pyanner an' reads a new novel every week. +Ab's awfully tickled about it. Down at the store t'other day, when +Westerfelt rid by on his prancin' hoss, Clem Dill said: 'Ab, I reckon +it won't be long 'fore you move over on yore son-in-law's big farm,' +an' Ab laughed so hard he let the tobacco juice run down on his shirt. + +"'Liz 'll manage his case,' sez he. 'Westerfelt may fly around the +whole caboodle of 'em, but when Liz gits 'er head set she cuts a wide +swathe an' never strikes a snag ur stump, an' cleans out the +fence-corners as smooth as a parlor floor.'" + +Sally bent down over her uncle; her face was slowly hardening into +conviction. When she spoke her voice had lost its ring of defiance and +got its strength of utterance only from sheer despair. + +"You saw them in his new buggy, Uncle Peter," she asked, "taking a +ride--are you sure?" + +Peter Slogan dropped his eyes; he seemed to realize the force of the +blow he had helped to deal, and made no answer. + +Mrs. Slogan laughed out triumphantly as she stooped to put her +smoothing-iron down on the hearth. + +"Ride together!" she exclaimed. "As ef that was all! Why, he's been +goin' thar twice an' three times a week regular. Jest as he begun +taperin' off with you he tapered on with her. I don't reckon you +hardly remember when he come heer last, do you? Ab Lithicum's as big a +fool as yore mother was in not callin' a halt. Jest let a man have a +little property, an' be a peg or two higher as to family connections, +an' he kin ride dry-shod over a whole community. He's goin' thar +to-night. Mis' Simpkins was at Lithicum's when a nigger fetched the +note. Lizzie was axin' 'er what to put on. She's got a sight o' duds. +They say it's jest old dresses that her cousins in town got tired o' +wearin', but they are ahead o' anything in the finery line out heer." + +A look of wretched conviction stamped itself on the girl's delicate +features. Slowly she turned to pick up her flowers, and went with them +to the mantel-piece. There was an empty vase half filled with water, +and into it she tried to place the stems, but they seemed hard to +manage in her quivering fingers, and she finally took the flowers to +her own room across the passage. They heard the sagging door scrape +the floor as she closed it after her. + +"Now, I reckon you two are satisfied," said Mrs. Dawson, bitterly. +"Narry one of you hain't one bit o' feelin' ur pity." + +Mrs. Slogan shrugged her shoulders, and Peter looked up regretfully, +and then with downcast eyes continued to pull silently at his pipe. + +"I jest did what I ort to 'a' done," said Mrs. Slogan. "She ort to +know the truth, an' I tol' 'er." + +"You could 'a' gone about it in a more human way," sighed Mrs. Dawson. +"The Lord knows the child's had enough to worry 'er, anyway. She's +been troubled fer the last week about him not comin' like he used to, +an' she'd a-knowed the truth soon enough." + +An hour later supper was served, and though her aunt called to her that +it was on the table, Sally Dawson did not appear, so the meal passed in +unusual silence. The Slogans ate with their habitual zest, but the +little bent widow only munched a piece of bread and daintily sipped her +cup of buttermilk. + +Presently they heard the rasping sound of Sally's door as it was drawn +open, and then they saw her go through the passage and step down into +the yard. Rising quickly, Mrs. Dawson went to the door and looked out. +She descried her daughter making her way hastily towards the gate. + +"Sally!" cried out the old woman, her thin voice cracking on its too +high key, "Sally, wait thar fer me! Stop, I say!" + +The girl turned and waited for her mother to approach through the +half-darkness, her face averted towards the road. + +"Sally, whar have you started?" + +The girl did not move as she answered: + +"Nowhere, mother; I--" + +The old woman put out her bony hand and laid it on the girl's arm. +"Sally, you are not a-tellin' me the truth. You are a-goin' to try to +see John Westerfelt." + +"Well, what if I am, mother?" + +"I don't believe I'd go, darlin'. I'd be above lettin' any triflin' +man know I was that bad off--I railly would try to have a little more +pride." + +Sally Dawson turned her head, and her eyes bore down desperately on the +small face before her. + +"Mother," she said, "you don't know what you'd do if you was in my +place." + +"I reckon not, darlin', but--" + +"Mother, I'll die if I don't know the truth. Once he told me if I ever +heard one word against him to come to him with it, and I said I would. +Maybe Aunt Clarissa is right about Lizzie an' him, but I've got to get +it straight from him. He went to town to-day, and always drives along +the road about this time." + +"Then I'll go out thar with you, Sally, if you will do sech a thing." + +"No, you won't, mother. Nobody has any right to hear what I've got to +say to him." + +The old woman raised the corner of her gingham apron to her eyes as if +some inward emotion had prompted tears, but the fountains of grief were +dry. + +"Oh, Sally," she whimpered, "I'm so miserable! I'll never forgive yore +aunt fer devilin' you so much, right now when you are troubled. I'll +tell you what me 'n' you'll do; we'll git us a house an' move away from +'er." + +"I don't care what she says--if it's true," replied Sally. "If--if +John Westerfelt has fooled me, I wouldn't care if it was printed in +every paper in the State. If he don't love me, I won't care for +nothin'. Mother, you know he made me think he loved--wanted me, at +least--that was all I could make out of it." + +"I was a leetle afeerd all along," admitted Mrs. Dawson. "I was +afeerd, though I couldn't let on at the time. Folks said he was +powerful changeable. You see, he has treated other gals the same way. +Sally, you must be brave, an' not let on. Why, thar was Mattie +Logan--jest look at her. Folks said she was a rantin' fool about 'im, +but when he quit goin' thar she tuck up with Clem Dill, an' now she's a +happy wife an' mother." + +Sally turned towards the gate. "What's that to me?" she said, +fiercely. "I'm not her, and she's not me. Stay here, mother. I'll be +back soon." + +"Well, I'm goin' to set right thar on that log outside the gate, an' +not budge one inch till you come back, Sally. If you wait too long, +though, I'll come after you. Oh, Sally, I'm awful afeerd--I don't know +what at, but I'm afeerd." + +Together the two passed through the gate, and then, leaving her mother +at the log, Sally hastened through the darkness towards the main road, +several hundred yards away. Mrs. Dawson sat down and folded her hands +tightly in her lap and waited. After a few minutes she heard the heat +of a horse's hoofs on the clay road, and when it ceased she knew her +child was demanding and learning her fate. Fifteen minutes passed. +The beat of hoofs was resumed, and soon afterwards Sally Dawson came +slowly through the darkness, her dress dragging over the dewy grass. +She seemed to have forgotten that her mother was waiting for her, and +was about to pass on to the house, when Mrs. Dawson spoke up. + +"Heer I am, Sally; what did he say?" + +The girl sat down on the log beside her mother. There was a desperate +glare in her eyes that had never been in eyes more youthful. Her lips +were drawn tight, her small hands clinched. + +"It's every bit true," she said, under her breath. "He's goin' with +Lizzie, regular. He admitted he had an engagement with her tonight. +Mother, it's all up with me. He's jest tired of me. I don't deserve +any pity for bein' such a fool, but it's awful--awful--awful!" + +Mrs. Dawson caught her breath suddenly, so sharp was her own pain, but +she still strove to console her daughter. + +"He's railly not wuth thinkin' about, darlin'; do--do try to forget +'im. It may look like a body never could git over a thing like that, +but I reckon a pusson kin manage to sort o' bear it better, after +awhile, than they kin right at the start. Sally, I'm goin' to tell you +a secret. I'd 'a' told you before this but I 'lowed you was too young +to heer the like. It's about me 'n' yore pa--some'n' you never dreamt +could 'a' happened. Mebby it 'll give you courage, fer if a old woman +like me kin put up with sech humiliation, shorely a young one kin. +Sally, do you remember, when you was a leetle, tiny girl, that thar was +a Mis' Talley, a tall, slim, yaller-headed woman, who come out from +town to board one summer over at Hill's? Well, she never had nothin' +much to occupy 'er mind with durin' the day, an' she used to take 'er +fancy-work an' set in the shady holler at the gum spring, whar yore pa +went to water his hoss. Of course, she never keerd a cent fer him, but +I reckon to pass the time away she got to makin' eyes at him. Anyway, +it driv' 'im plumb crazy. I never knowed about it till the summer was +mighty nigh over, an' I wouldn't 'a' diskivered it then if I hadn't 'a' +noticed that he had made powerful little headway ploughin' in the field +whar he claimed to be at work. She wasn't a bad woman. I give 'er +credit fer that, an' I reckon she never talked to 'im many times, an' +never thought of him except to laugh at him after she went back home, +but he never quit thinkin' about her. She had 'er picture printed in a +paper along with some other church-women in town, an' somehow he got +a-hold of it an' cut it out. He used to keep it hid in a ol' +Testament, in a holler tree behind the cow-lot, an' used to slip out +an' look at it when he 'lowed he wasn't watched. Sally, I never once +mentioned it to him. I seed what had been done couldn't be undone, but +the Lord on High knows well enough how I suffered. Sally, maybe it's +the Lord's will fer you to lose this feller now when you are young an' +able to fight agin it, so you won't suffer the awful humiliation at a +time o' life when a body ort to be easy. Sally, are you a-listenin' to +me?" + +"Yes, mother. I heard every word you said about pa an' the woman. I +heard that, and I heard them frogs down there croaking, too, and the +chickens fluttering on their roosts. I heard his horse still +a-trotting. Mother, he was whistling when he drove up just +now--_whistling_!" + +The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then the old woman +went on: + +"It'll go powerful hard with you now, but you'd better have it over +with when you're young 'an to suffer when you're a weak old woman like +me. Ol' age cayn't stand such things so well. No, I never once +mentioned the woman to yore pa. I knowed it would jest make him resort +to lyin', an' at the bottom he was a good, pious man. He jest couldn't +quit thinkin' o' that yaller-headed woman an' her blue eyes an' shiny +store shoes. I jest pitied 'im like he was a baby. It went on till he +got sick, an' many an' many a day he'd lie thar helpless an' look out +towards the cow-lot, wistful like, an' I knowed he was thinkin' o' that +pictur'. He was lookin' that way when he drawed his last breath. It +may 'a' been jest a notion o' mine, fer some said he was unconscious +all that day, but it looked that away to me. I nussed him through his +sickness as well as I could, an' attended to every wish he had till he +passed away. Now, you know some'n' else, Sally. You know why I never +put up no rock at his grave. The neighbors has had a lots to say about +that one thing--most of 'em sayin' I was too stingy to pay fer it, but +it wasn't that, darlin'. It was jest beca'se I had too much woman +pride. When I promised the Lord to love an' obey, it was not expected +that I'd put up a rock over another woman's man if he was dead. Sally, +you are a sight more fortunate than you think you are." + +Sally rose, the steely look was still in her eyes, her face was like +finely polished granite. Mrs. Dawson got up anxiously, and together +they passed through the gate. They could see the red fire of Peter +Slogan's pipe, and the vague form of his wife standing over him. + +"Now, darlin'--" began Mrs. Dawson, but Sally checked her. + +"Don't talk to me any more, mother," she said, impatiently. "I want to +be quiet and think--oh, my God, have mercy on me!" + +Mrs. Dawson said nothing more, and with a sinking heart she saw the +stricken child of her breast walk on into her room and close the door. + +"Whar's she been?" asked Mrs. Slogan, aggressively. + +"She went to git out o' re'ch o' yore tongue," said the widow, +desperately. + +To this apt retort Mrs. Slogan could not reply, but it evoked an amused +laugh from her appreciative husband. + +"Well, Sally didn't shorely try to do that afoot, did she?" he gurgled. +"Looks like she'd 'a' tuck a train ef sech was her intention." + +Mrs. Dawson passed into the house and through the dining-room into her +own small apartment and closed the door. She lighted a tallow-dip and +placed it on the old-fashioned bureau, from which the mahogany +veneering had been peeling for years. Her coarse shoes rang harshly on +the smooth, bare floor. She sank into a stiff, hand-made chair and sat +staring into vacancy. The bend of her back had never been more +pronounced. + +"The idee," she muttered, "o' my goin' over my trouble as ef that +amounted to a hill o' beans ur would be a bit o' comfort! My God, ef +some'n' ain't done to relieve Sally I'll go stark crazy, an'--an'--I +could kill 'im in cold blood, freely, so I could. Oh, my pore, +helpless baby! it seems like she never did have any rail friend but me." + +She rose and crept to the window, parted the calico curtains, and +peered across the passage at her daughter's door. There was a narrow +pencil of light beneath it. "She's readin' his letters over," said the +old woman, "ur mebby she's prayin'. That's railly what I ort to be +a-doin' instead o' standin' heer tryin' to work out what's impossible +fer any mortal. I reckon ef a body jest would have enough faith--but I +did have faith till--till it quit doin' me a particle o' good. Yes, I +ort to be a-prayin', and I'll do it--funny I never thought o' that +sooner. Ef God fetched a rain, like they claim he did t'other day, +shorely he'll do a little some'n' in a case like this un." + +She blew out the tallow-dip and knelt down in the darkness, and +interlaced her bony fingers. + +"Lord God Almighty, King of Hosts--my Blessed Redeemer," she began, +"you know how I have suffered an' why I never could put no grave-rock +over my husband's remains; you know how I have writhed an' twisted +under that scourge, but I kin bear that now, an' more an' more of it, +but I jest cayn't have my pore little baby go through the same, an' +wuss. It don't look like it's fair--no way a body kin look at it, for +shorely one affliction of that sort in a family is enough, in all +reason. I stood mine, bein' a ol' woman, but Sally, she'll jest pine +away an' die, fer she had all her heart set on that one man. Oh, God +Almighty, my Redeemer, you that forgive the dyin' thief an' begged fer +help in yore own agony, let this cup pass. Huh! I'd ruther have 'em +stick a speer through my side time an' time agin 'an have it go on with +Sally like it is. You'd better do what I ask, fer it's makin' a +reg'lar devil out o' me. I feel it comin' on, an' I won't be fit fer +no place but hell fire. I jest cayn't see no sense, jestice, nur +reason in my pore little child lyin' in her bed an' twistin' with sech +trouble. You, or some power above or below, tuck Jasper frum me an' +left that yaller-haired sting fer me to brood over day an' night, but +the same ur wuss mustn't come to Sally, kase she don't deserve +it--she's _helpless_! Oh, Lord, have mercy--have mercy--mercy--mercy!" + +She rose to her feet, and without undressing threw herself on the bed. +She could hear Slogan and his wife, now barefooted, thumping about in +the next room. Far away against the mountain-side she heard a hunter +calling to his dogs and blowing a horn. + + + + +Chapter II + +John Westerfelt lived on his own farm in the big two-storied frame +house which had been built by his grandfather, and which came to him at +the death of his father and mother. The place was managed for him by a +maternal uncle, whose wife and daughter kept the house in order. But +all three of them had gone away on a short visit, leaving only the old +negro woman, who was the cook and servant about the house, to attend to +his wants. + +The morning following his meeting with Sally Dawson on the road near +her house, Westerfelt arose with a general feeling of dissatisfaction +with himself. He had not slept well. Several times through the night +he awoke from unpleasant dreams, in which he always saw Sally Dawson's +eyes raised to his through the darkness, and heard her spiritless voice +as she bade him good-bye, and with bowed head moved away, after +promising to return his letters the next day. + +He was a handsome specimen of physical manhood. His face was dark and +of the poetic, sensitive type; his eyes were brown, his hair was almost +black, and thick, and long enough to touch his collar. His shoulders +were broad, and his limbs muscular and well shaped. He wore +tight-fitting top-boots, which he had drawn over his trousers to the +knee. His face was clean-shaven, and but for his tanned skin and +general air of the better-class planter, he might have passed for an +actor, poet, or artist. He was just the type of Southerner who, with a +little more ambition, and close application to books, might have become +a leading lawyer and risen finally to a seat in Congress. But John +Westerfelt had never been made to see the necessity of exertion on his +part. Things had come easily ever since he could remember, and his +wants were simple, and, in his own way, he enjoyed life, suffering +sharply at times, as he did this morning, over his mistakes, for at +heart he was not bad. + +"Poor little girl," he said, as he went out on the front veranda to +wait for his breakfast. "It was just blind thoughtlessness. I really +never dreamt she was feeling that way. I've just got to make it +lighter for her. To begin with, I'll never put my foot inside of +Lithicum's gate, and I'll go over there this morning and try to make +her see what a worthless scamp I really am. I wonder if I couldn't +marry her--but, no, that wouldn't be right to her nor to me, for a man +hasn't the moral right to marry a woman he doesn't really love, even if +she thinks he is the only man on earth. I wonder if I really told her +I loved her?" Here Westerfelt shuddered, and felt a flush of shame +steal over his face. "Yes, I have--I have," he muttered, "and I reckon +I really did fancy I cared for her at the time. Yes, I have been a +contemptible coward; for my own idle enjoyment I have allowed her to go +on counting on me until the thought of my going to see Lizzie Lithicum +nearly kills her. Well, by George! I can cut that off, and I shall, +too." + +Just then, in looking across the meadow lying between his house and the +main road, he saw the short form of Peter Slogan approaching. + +"He's coming here," thought Westerfelt. "She has asked him to bring +the letters, even before breakfast. That's the little woman's way of +showing her pride. What a contemptible scoundrel I am!" + +But as he continued to watch the approaching figure he was surprised to +note that Slogan was displaying more energy than usual. The little, +short man was taking long steps, and now and then jumping over an +obstacle instead of going around it. And when he had reached the gate +he leaned on it and stared straight at Westerfelt, as if he had lost +his power of speech. Then it was that Westerfelt remarked that +Slogan's face looked troubled, and that a general air of agitation +rested on him. + +"I wish you'd step out, if you please, John," he said, after a moment, +"I've been walkin' so blamed fast I've mighty nigh lost my breath. I'm +blowin' like a stump-suckin' hoss." + +Westerfelt went to him. + +"What is the matter, Slogan?" he questioned, in a tone of concern. + +"We've had big trouble over our way," panted Slogan. "Sally fell off'n +the foot-log into the creek this mornin' an' was drowned." + +"Drowned! You don't mean that, Slogan!" cried Westerfelt, in horror; +"surely there is some mistake!" + +"No; she's as dead as a mackerel," Slogan answered. "She wasn't +diskivered tell she'd been under water fer a good half-hour. She +started, as usual, about daybreak, over to her cousin, Molly Dugan's, +fer a bucket o' fresh milk, an' we never missed 'er until it was time +she was back, an' then we went all the way to Dugan's before we found +out she hadn't been thar at all. Then her ma tuck up a quar notion, +an' helt to it like a leech fer a long time. My hoss had got out o' +the stable an' strayed off some'rs in the woods, an' Sally's mother +firmly believed the gal had run off. I don't know why she 'lowed Sally +would do sech a thing, but she did, and jest paced up an' down the yard +yellin' an' takin' on an' beggin' us to go fetch her back, so that none +of us at the house thought o' draggin' the hole at the foot-log. But +Bill Dugan did, an' soon come with the news whar she was at. Then her +ma jest had a spasm. I railly believe on my soul she cussed God an' +all futurity. She raved till she was black in the face." + +"Then there is--is no doubt about it?" gasped Westerfelt. "She is +dead?" + +"Of course she's dead," answered Slogan; "an' bein' as my hoss ain't to +be had, I 'lowed I'd try to borrow one o' yore'n to go order the +coffin." Slogan here displayed a piece of twine which he had wound +into a coil. "I've got the exact length o' the body. I 'lowed that +would be the best way. I reckon they kin tell me at the store how much +play a corpse ort to have at each end. I've noticed that coffins +always look longer, a sight, than the pusson ever did that was to +occupy 'em, but I thought ef I tuck the exact measure--" + +"Here's the stable key," interrupted Westerfelt, with a shudder. "Take +any horse you want. You'll find saddles and bridles in the shed." + +Slogan turned away, and Westerfelt walked back to the veranda. "My +God!" he groaned; "why don't I _know_ it was accident? If it was not, +then may the Lord have mercy on my soul!" + +He went into his room and threw himself on his bed and stared fixedly +at the ceiling, a thousand conflicting thoughts crowding upon him. +Presently he heard Slogan talking to the horse in the yard, and went +out just as he was mounting. + +"I wisht you'd hand me a switch, John," he said. "I don't want to be +all day goin' an' comin'. I'll be blamed ef I ain't afeerd them two +ol' cats 'll be a-fightin' an' scratchin' 'fore I get back. They had a +time of it while the gal was alive, an' I reckon thar 'll be no peace +at all now." + +"Does Mrs. Dawson blame anybody--or--or--?" Westerfelt paused as if he +hardly knew how to finish. + +"Oh, I reckon the ol' woman does feel a leetle hard at us--my wife in +particular, an'--an' some o' the rest, I reckon. You see, thar was a +lot said at the quiltin' yesterday about Lizzie Lithicum a-cuttin' of +Sally out, an' one thing or other, an' a mother's calculated to feel +bitter about sech talk, especially when her only child is laid out as +cold an' stiff as a poker." + +Again Westerfelt shuddered; his face was ghastly; his mouth was drawn +and his lips quivered; there was a desperate, appealing, shifting of +his eyes. + +"I reckon Mrs. Dawson feels hurt at me," he said, tentatively. + +Slogan hesitated a moment before speaking. + +"Well," he said, as if he felt some sort of apology should come from +him, "maybe she does--a little, John, but the Lord knows you cayn't +expect much else at sech a time, an' when she's under sech a strain." + +"Did she mention any names?" questioned the young man, desperately; and +while he waited for Slogan to speak a look of inexpressible agony lay +in his eyes. + +"I never was much of a hand to tote tales," said Slogan, "but I may as +well give you a little bit of advice as to how you ort to act with the +ol' woman while she is so wrought up. I wouldn't run up agin 'er right +now ef I was you. She's tuck a funny sort o' notion that she don't +want you at the funeral or the buryin'. She told me three times, as I +was startin' off, to tell you not to come to the church nur to the +grave. She was clean out o' her senses, an' under ordinary +circumstances I'd say not to pay a bit of attention to 'er, but she's +so upset she might liter'ly pounce on you like a wild-cat at the +meetin'-house." + +"Tell her, for me, that I shall respect her wish," said Westerfelt. "I +shall not be there, Slogan. If she will let you do so, tell her I am +sorry her daughter is--dead." + +"All right, John, I'll do what I can to pacify 'er," promised Peter, as +he took the switch Westerfelt handed him and started away. + + + + +Chapter III + +When Slogan had ridden off through the mild spring sunshine, Westerfelt +saddled another horse and rode out of the gate towards the road leading +away from the house containing Sally Dawson's remains. He hardly had +any definite idea of whither he was going. He had only a vague +impression that the movement of a horse under him would to some degree +assuage the awful pain at his heart, but he was mistaken; the pangs of +self-accusation were as sharp as if he were a justly condemned +murderer. His way led past the cross-roads store, which contained the +post-office. Two men, a woman, and a child stood huddled together at +the door. They were talking about the accident; Westerfelt knew that +by their attitudes of awed attention and their occasional glances +towards Mrs. Dawson's. He was about to pass by when the storekeeper +signalled to him and called out: + +"Mail fer you, Mr. Westerfelt; want me to fetch it out?" + +Westerfelt nodded, and reined in and waited till the storekeeper came +out with a packet. "It must 'a' been drapped in after I closed last +night," he said. "Thar wasn't a thing in the box 'fore I went home, +an' it was the only one thar when I unlocked this mornin'. Mighty bad +news down the creek, ain't it?" he ended. "Powerful hard on the old +woman. They say she's mighty nigh distracted." + +Making some unintelligible reply, Westerfelt rode on, the packet held +tightly in his hand. It was addressed in Sally Dawson's round, girlish +handwriting, and he knew it contained his letters, and perhaps--he +shuddered at the thought of what else it might contain. + +He whipped his horse into a gallop. He wanted to reach a spot where he +could open the package unobserved. He met several wagons and a buggy. +They contained people who bowed and spoke to him, but he scarcely saw +them. At the first path leading from the road into the wood he turned +aside, and then opened his package. There were three or four letters +and notes he had written the dead girl, and one blotted sheet from her. +With a quaking soul he read it. It confirmed him in the fear which had +taken hold of him at the first news of the tragedy. The letter ran: + + +"DEAR JOHN,--I simply cannot stand it any longer. It is now about +three in the morning. Some people contend that such acts are done only +by crazy folks, but I don't believe I ever was more sensible than I am +right now. I am not ashamed to own that I had my heart and soul set on +being your wife and making you happy, but now that I know you didn't +feel a bit like I did, an' love Lizzie, I jest can't stand it. The +pain is awful--awful. I could not meet folks face to face, now that +they know the truth. I'd rather die a hundred deaths than see you an' +her even once together. I couldn't live long anyway. I'm simply too +weak and sick at heart. The hardest thing of all is to remember that +you never did care for me all the time I was making such a little fool +of myself. I know you never did. Folks said you was changeable, but I +never once believed it till last night on the road. I have fixed it so +everybody will think my death was accidental. I've been warned time +and again about that foot-log, and nobody will suspicion the truth. +You must never mention it to a soul. It is my last and only request. +It would go harder with mother if she knew that. Good-bye, John. I +love you more right now than I ever did, and I don't know as I blame +you much or harbor much resentment. I thought I would not say anything +more, but I cannot help it. John, Lizzie is not the woman for you. +She never will love you deep, or very long. Good-bye. + +"SALLY." + + +Westerfelt put the letter in his pocket and turned his horse into an +unfrequented road leading to the mountain and along its side. The air +was filled with the subtle fragrance of growing and blooming things. +He was as near insanity as a man can well be who still retains his +mental equipoise. In this slow manner, his horse picking his way over +fallen trees and mountain streams, he traversed several miles, and +then, in utter desolation, turned homeward. + +It was noon when he came in sight of his house. Peter Slogan had +returned the horse, and, with a parcel under his arm, was trudging +homeward. All that night Westerfelt lay awake, and the next morning he +did not leave his room, ordering the wondering servant not to prepare +any breakfast for him. He did not want to show himself on the veranda +or in the front yard, thinking some neighbor might stop and want to +talk over the tragedy. There were moments during this solitary morning +that he wished others knew the secret of Sally Dawson's death. It +seemed impossible for him to keep the grewsome truth locked in his +breast--it made the happening seem more of a crime. And then an awful +thought dawned upon him. Was it not a way God had of punishing him, +and would there ever be any end to it? + +From his window he had a clear view of Mrs. Dawson's house. There was +a group of people in their best clothes on the porch, and considerable +activity about the front yard, to the fence of which a goodly number of +horses and mules were hitched. The little church, with its gray, +weather-beaten spire, could also be seen farther away, on a slight +elevation. It had a fence around it, and blended with the whiteness of +the fence were a few gravestones. + +About eleven o'clock Westerfelt saw a negro boy climb a ladder leaning +against the side of the church and creep along the edge of the roof to +the open cupola and grasp the clapper of the cast-iron bell. Then it +began to toll. The boy was an unpractised hand, and the strokes were +irregular, sometimes too slow and sometimes too rapid. + +It was a signal for the procession to leave the house. Westerfelt's +eyes were glued to the one-horse wagon at the gate, for it contained +the coffin, and was moving like a thing alive. Behind it walked six +men, swinging their hats in their hands. Next followed Slogan's +rickety buggy with its threatening wheels, driven by Peter. The bent +figure of the widow in black sat beside him. Other vehicles fell in +behind, and men, women, and children on foot, carrying wild flowers, +dogwood blossoms, pink and white honeysuckle, and bunches of violets, +brought up the rear. + +Westerfelt was just turning from the window, unable to stand the sight +longer, when he saw Abner Lithicum's new road-wagon, with its red +wheels and high green bed, in which sat the five women of his family, +pause at his gate. Going out on the veranda, Westerfelt saw Abner +coming up the walk, cracking his wagon-whip at the stunted rose-bushes. + +"Hello!" he cried out; "I 'lowed mebby you hadn't left yet. It 'll be +a good half-hour 'fore they all get thar an' settled. The preacher +promised me this mornin' he'd wait on me an' my folks. It takes my +gals sech a' eternity to fix up when they go anywhar." + +"Won't you come in?" asked Westerfelt, coldly, seeing that Lithicum did +not seem to be in any hurry to announce the object of his visit. + +"Oh no, thanky'," said Lithicum, with a broad grin; "the truth is, I +clean forgot my tobacco. I knowed you wasn't a chawin' man, but yore +uncle is, an' he mought have left a piece of a plug lyin' round. My +old woman tried to git me to use her snuff as a make-shift, but lawsy +me! the blamed powdery truck jest washes down my throat like leaves in +a mill-race. I never could see how women kin set an' rub an' rub the'r +gums with it like they do. I reckon it's jest a sort o' habit." + +"I'm sorry," said Westerfelt, "but I don't know where my uncle keeps +his tobacco." + +"Well, I reckon I'll strike some chawin' man down at the +meetin'-house." Lithicum stood, awkwardly cutting the air with his +whip. "Railly, thar is one thing more," he said, haltingly. "Lizzie +'lowed, as thar was a' extra seat in our wagon, you might like to come +on with us. She said she had some'n' particular to tell you." + +"Tell her I am not going," said Westerfelt, sharply. "I am not going." + +"Oh, you ain't!" Lithicum looked his surprise both at the decision and +at the unaccountable coldness of the young man's manner, which he had +not noticed till now. "Well, so long, Mr. Westerfelt, I reckon you +know yore own business, but I 'lowed everybody would turn out, through +respect to all concerned, if nothin' else." + +"I am not going; it is impossible for me to go," answered Westerfelt, +and he turned abruptly into the house. + +Alone in his room, Westerfelt took Sally Dawson's last letter from his +pocket and read it again. Then he lighted a match and started to burn +it, but some inward fear seemed to check him, and the match burned down +to his rigid fingers and went out. "No," he said, "that would be +cowardly. I shall keep it always, to remind me of my hellish mistake. +Great God! the idea of my going to her funeral in a red wagon with +Lizzie Lithicum--Lizzie Lithicum!" + + +The next morning, as he was returning from the post-office, Westerfelt +met Peter Slogan riding to a field he had rented down the road, and +which he was getting ready for cotton-planting. Slogan was astride of +his bony horse, which was already clad in shuck collar and clanking +harness, and carried on his shoulder a cumbersome plough-stock. + +"Well," he smiled, reining in as he caught Westerfelt's eye, "I 'lowed +hard work in the sun would do more to git the kinks out'n me after all +the trouble at my house than anything else." + +"How is Mrs. Dawson?" ventured Westerfelt. + +"You'd better ax me how she _ain't_," retorted Slogan, shrugging his +shoulders. "I could tell you a sight easier. She's turned into a +regular hell-cat. I thought her an' my wife was bad enough 'fore the +trouble, but it's wuss now. The ol' woman has left us." + +"Left you?" repeated Westerfelt. "What do you mean?" + +"Why, she says she won't sleep an' eat in the same house with my wife, +beca'se she give Sally advice, an'--an' one thing or nuther. The ol' +woman has bought 'er some second-hand cookin' utensils--a oven an' a +skillet an' a cup an' a plate or two, an' has moved 'er bed an' cheer +into the Hilgard cabin down below us. She slept thar last night. It +looks powerful like she's wrong in the upper-story. At fust she was +all yells an' fury, but now she jest sulks an' hain't got one word to +say to nobody. I went down thar last night an' tried to call 'er to +the door, but she wouldn't stir a peg. As soon as she heerd me at the +fence she blowed out 'er light an' wouldn't let on no more'n ef I was a +dog a-barkin'. Now, I hold that she hain't got no call to treat me +that away. I never tuck no hand in 'er disputes with my wife, an' ef +hard things has been said about Sally, why they never come from me. +Lord, I've got plenty else to think about besides gals an' women. I +think I'm on track o' the skunk 'at stole my axe." + +Westerfelt walked on. It was plain to him that none of the neighbors +knew the secret of Sally Dawson's death, but he was beginning to think +that the mother of the girl might half suspect the truth, and that she +was his enemy for life he did not doubt. + + + + +Chapter IV + +The cornfields had grown to their full height and turned from green to +yellow. The stalks, stripped of their tops and blades, were bent by +the weight of their ears. There was a whispering of breezes in the +sedge-fields, in the long rows of brown-bolled cotton plants, among the +fodder-stacks, and in the forest that stretched from the main road up +the mountain-side. It was the season in which the rugged landscape +appeared most brilliant; when the kalmia bloomed, the gentian, the +primrose, the yellow daisy, the woodbine, and the golden-disked aster +still lingered in sunny spots. It was the season in which the leaves +of the maple were as red as blood. + +John Westerfelt was leaving home, to take up his abode in the adjoining +county over the mountain. As he sat upon his horse and slowly rode +along, one who had known him six months before would scarcely have +recognized him, so great had been the change in his appearance. His +face was thinner; at the temples his hair had turned slightly gray, and +an ineffable expression of restless discontent lay about his eyes. A +sum of money had come to him from his father's estate, and with it he +had purchased a livery-stable at the village of Cartwright. Ever since +Sally Dawson's death, he had wanted an excuse to get away from the spot +where the tragedy had occurred, and his leaving his farm to the +management of his uncle now caused no particular comment among his +neighbors. + +Reaching the highest point of the mountain, the village in question lay +in the valley below. Here he paused and looked behind him. + +"God being my helper, I'm going to try to begin a new life over here," +he said, almost aloud. "Surely, I have repented sorely enough, and +this is not shirking my just punishment. A man ought to make something +of himself, and I never could, in my frame of mind, with that poor, +silent old woman constantly before my eyes, and knowing that she will +never forgive my offence, and is perhaps constantly praying for some +calamity to strike me down." + +At the first house in the outskirts of the village he dismounted. A +woman hearing his approach announced by a couple of lean dogs, which +sprang from under the porch, came to the door. She smiled and spoke, +but her voice was drowned in the yelping of the dogs, which were trying +to climb over the fence to get at the stranger. + +There was something admirable, if slightly discourteous, in the +fearless manner in which Westerfelt leaned over the fence and, with the +butt of his riding-whip, struck the animals squarely in the face, +coolly laughing as he did so. + +"You, Tige! you, Pomp!" cried the woman, running to them and picking up +sticks and stones and hurling them at the animals, "down thar, I say!" + +"They have forgotten me," said Westerfelt, with a laugh, as the dogs +retreated behind the house, and he reached over the ramshackle gate to +shake hands. + +"But I hain't, John," she replied, cordially. "I wasn't lookin' fer +you quite so soon, though. I reckon you must 'a' rid purty peert." + +"Generally do," he made answer, "though I started early this morning, +and lost half an hour at Long's shop, where I got my horse shod." + +"Put up yore animal," she said. "That's the stable thar, an' you know +better how to feed 'im 'an I do. Luke's gone down to the livery-stable +to look atter things fer you, but he'll be back 'fore supper-time." + +Westerfelt led his horse into the yard, and to the well near the door. + +He pushed the bucket into the opening, and allowed the wooden windlass +to fly round of its own accord till the bucket struck the water. + +"Thirsty?" she asked. "I'll git the gourd." + +He nodded. "And I want to water my horse; every branch and creek is +bridged for the last ten miles." + +While she was in the house he wound up the bucket, swearing at the +horse for continually touching an inquisitive nose to his moving elbow. +She returned with a great gourd dipper. He rinsed it out, and, filling +it, drank long and deeply. Then he refilled the gourd and offered it +to her. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. "I forgot my politeness." + +"I ain't dry," she said. "I was jest a-lookin' at you, John; you look +so much older an' different-like." + +"Oh, I reckon I'm all right," he said. "How's Luke?" emptying the +bucket into the trough and watching the horse drink. + +"As well as common; me an' him wus both bound fer you to git the +livery-stable, an' we are glad the trade's closed. It will seem like +ol' times to have a body from Fannin over heer. As soon as you writ +the price you wus willin' to give in a lumpin' sum, Luke set to +scheming. He ain't no fool, if I do say it. Horton an' Webb had the'r +eyes on the stable, an' Luke thinks they'd a-raised his bid, but they +'lowed he wus biddin' fur himself, an' knowed he couldn't raise the +money. Mis' Thorp wus in heer this mornin', an' she said Jasper Webb +swore like rips when the administrator tol' 'im the trade wus closed +with Luke as yore agent. You orter do well with the investment; you +got it cheap; you know how to keep up stock, an' the hack-line will pay +with the mail it carries an' the passenger travel twixt heer an' +Darley." + +"I'm satisfied," he said, and he took the saddle and bridle from his +horse and turned the animal into the little log stable. + +"Hain't you goin' to feed 'im?" she asked, hospitably, as he was +closing the door; "the's some fodder overhead, an' the corn is in re'ch +through the crack above the trough." + +"Not yet," he returned; "I fed him some shelled corn at the shop. I'll +give him a few ears at supper-time." + +The slanting rays of the sun streamed from a saffron sky in the west +and blazed in the red, yellow, and pink foliage on the mountain-side. +The light brought into clearer outline the brown peaks and beetling +crags that rose bleak and bare above the wealth of color, beyond the +dark, evergreen stretches of pines and mountain cedars. The gorgeous +tail of a peacock spread and gleamed under the cherry-trees in the back +yard. A sleek calf was running back and forth in a little lot, and a +brindled cow was bellowing mellowly, her head thrown up as she cantered +down the road, her heavy bag swinging under her. + +At the sight of the woman a flock of ducks, chickens, and geese +gathered round her. She shooed the fowls away with her apron. "They +want the'r supper," she said, as she led her guest back to the front +yard. She went to the gate and looked down the road. "I see Luke at +the branch," she added, coming back to him; "he'd be on faster ef he +knowed you wus heer." + +Luke Bradley was about fifty years of age. He had blue eyes, a long +body, long arms, and long legs. His hair was reddish brown and his +face florid and freckled. He walked with a shambling gait, stooped +considerably, and swung his arms. He seldom wore a coat, and on days +as mild as this his shirt-sleeves were always rolled up. He presented +a striking contrast to John Westerfelt, who, by the people of that +remote section, might have been considered something of a swell. + +"How are you, ol' hoss?" Bradley laughed, as he swung the sagging gate +open and grasped his friend's hand. "Glad to see you; I've done +nothin' but fight tongue battles fer you all day. Webb has been +cussin' me black an' blue fer biddin' agin 'im fer a stranger, but +thar's one consolation--we've got 'im on the hip." + +Westerfelt laughed pleasantly as he followed his host into the +sitting-room. "Much obliged to you, Luke. I'm glad I took your advice +about the investment." + +"Me'n Marthy wus both dead set on gettin' you over heer," Luke said, as +he placed a chair for Westerfelt in front of the fire. "Both of us +'low a change will do you good." + +Mrs. Bradley sat down in a corner and spread out her ample homespun +skirt and began to run the hem of her apron through her fat, red +fingers. + +"Me'n Luke's been talkin' it over," she said, with some embarrassment; +"we 'lowed you mought mebby be willin' to put up with us; we've got a +spare room, an' you know about how we live. You've lied unmercifully +ef you don't like my cookin'," she concluded, with an awkward little +laugh. + +"I never lie," he retorted, smiling. "It's been a year since I ate at +your house, but I can taste your slice-potato pie yet, and your +egg-bread and biscuits, ugh!" + +She laughed. "You'll stay, then?" + +"I'm afraid not. I've packed up some pieces of furniture--a bed and +one thing or other--and I calculated that I'd occupy the room over the +stable. I'd like to be near my business. I reckon I can get my meals +down at the hotel. I'll stay with you to-night, though; the wagon +won't come till to-morrow." + +"Well, I'm disappointed, shore 'nough," said Mrs. Bradley. "I had +clean forgot the room at the stable, an' I ought to 'a' knowed, too, +that Saunders' boys bunked thar. Well, I won't raise no objections; +Mis' Boyd, a widow woman, is keepin' the hotel now, and folks say she +feeds well an' cheap enough. She's from Tennessee, an's got a +good-lookin', sprightly daughter. Nobody knows a thing about 'em; they +don't talk much about the'rse'ves. They tuk the hotel when Rick Martin +sold out last fall, an' they've been thar ever sence." + + +Supper was served in the room adjoining the kitchen. After it was +over, Westerfelt and his host went back to the sitting-room. Alf, a +colored farm-hand, was heaping logs on the old-fashioned dog-irons in +the wide fireplace, and a mass of fat pine burning under the wood +lighted the room with a soft red glow. + +Westerfelt looked round him in surprise. While they were at supper the +carpet had been taken up, the floor swept clean, and a number of chairs +placed against the wall round the room. + +"Marthy's doin's," Bradley explained, sheepishly; "don't hold me +accountable; she's arranged to give you a shindig to introduce you to +the young folks round about." + +Just then Mrs. Bradley came in. + +"Sweep the hearth, Alf," she said, pointing to a live coal that had +popped out on the floor. "Didn't I tell you never to put on them +chestnut logs? Do you want to burn the roof over our heads? Give it +to me!" She snatched the unwieldy bundle of broomstraw from him. "Go +tell Mis' Snow I'm much obleeged fer the cheers, an' ef I need any more +I'll send fer um after 'while. Tell 'er ef she don't let Mary an' Ella +come I'll never set foot in her house agin." + +"What's all this for?" asked Westerfelt. + +"_You_." She slapped him familiarly on the arm. "I'm goin' to give +you a mount'in welcome. This settlement is full o' nice gals, an' you +hain't the least idee how much excitement thar's been sence the report +went out that you are gwine to live amongst us. I'm the most popular +woman in Cartwright, jest beca'se I know you. I tell you I've been +blowin' yore horn. I've talked a sight about you, an' you must do yore +best an' look yore purtiest. Oh, yore clothes is all right!" (seeing +that he was looking doubtfully at his boots and trousers). "They +hain't a dressy set over heer." Her husband was leaving the room, and +she waited till he had closed the door after him. "I want to talk to +you like a mother, John," she said, sitting down near him and holding +the bundle of broom between her knees. "The truth is, I've had a sight +o' worry over you. I often lie awake at night thinkin' about you, an' +wonderin' ef yore ma wouldn't blame me ef she wus alive fer not lookin' +atter you more. I've heerd what a solitary life you've been livin' +sence she died. God knows she wus a big loss, an' it does bring a +great change to part with sech a friend, but, from what I heer, you let +'er death bother you most too much. Why, folks tell me you hain't at +all like you used to be, an' that you jest stayed at home an' never +went about with the young folks any more. You don't look as well as +you did the last time I seed you, nuther. I reckon it's yore way o' +living but you jest sha'n't do that away over heer. You've got to be +natural like other young folks, an' you jest shall, ef I have anything +to say in the matter. John, yore mamma was the best friend I ever had, +an'--" + +She paused. Luke was hallooing to some one down the road, and +Westerfelt heard the rumble of wheels over a distant bridge. Mrs. +Bradley went to the door and went out. + +"They are comin', the whole caboodle of 'em!" she cried, excitedly. "I +declare, I believe I enjoy a party as much as any gal that ever lived, +an' at my age, too--it's shameful. I'd be talked about in some +places." She laid her hands on the shoulders of her guest, her face +beaming. "Now, ef you want to primp up a little an' bresh that +hoss-hair off'n yore pants, go in yore room. It's at the end o' the +back porch. Alf's already tuck yore saddle-bags thar." + + + + +Chapter V + +His room was a small one. It had a sloping ceiling, and a little +six-paned window. A small, oblong stove stood far enough back in the +capacious fireplace to allow its single joint of pipe to stand upright +in the chimney. There was a high-posted bed, a wash-stand, a mirror, +and a split-bottomed chair. + +He sat down in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned +forward. Despite his determination to begin life anew, he was thinking +of Sally Dawson's death and burial--the old woman who was leading the +life of a recluse, and hating all her kind, him in particular. He put +his hand in his coat-pocket and drew out a thick envelope containing +the dead girl's letter, and read it as he had done almost every day +since it came to him. It was part of the punishment he was inflicting +on himself. He had been tempted a thousand times to destroy the +letter, but had never done so. He forgot that a gay party of young +people were assembling in the next room; he was oblivious of the noise +of moving chairs, the creaking floor, loud laughter, and the hum of +voices. Fate had set him aside from the rest of the world, he told +himself; he was living two lives, one in the present, the other in the +past. + +Westerfelt was suddenly reminded of where he was by the sound of some +one tuning a fiddle in the sitting-room. He put the letter into his +pocket, rose, and brushed his hair before the mirror. There was a +clatter of heavy boots in the entry opposite his door; four or five +young men had come out to wash their hands in the pans on the long +shelf; they were passing jokes, laughing loudly, and playfully striking +at one another. Two of them clinched arms and began to wrestle. +Westerfelt heard them panting and grunting as they swayed back and +forth, till the struggle was ended by one of them shoving the other +violently against the wall; Westerfelt opened the door. A stout, +muscular young giant was pinning a small man to the weather-boarding +and making a pretence at choking him. + +"Lord, H'ram, stop!" gasped the victim; "yore sp'ilin' my necktie an' +collar." + +"'Gin the rules to wear 'em," was the laughing reply. "Heer, Joe, you +sprinkle 'im while I hold 'im!" + +This command was about to be obeyed, when Mrs. Bradley suddenly +appeared. + +"Boys, boys, behave!" she cried, and as the wrestlers separated she +continued, apologetically, "I clean forgot thar wusn't a sign of a +towel on the roller; I wonder what you intended to wipe on; here, take +this one, an' hang it up when you're through." Then she turned to +Westerfelt's door and looked into his room. + +"Are you ready, young man?" she asked. + +"Yes," he replied, coming out. + +"Gentlemen," she said, "quit thar a minute! This is John Westerfelt, +my old friend. Mind you look atter yore intrusts. The boys over in +Fannin know how to please the gals. Ef you don't watch sharp he'll cut +you every one out." + +The two men holding the towel between them gave him their moist hands, +and those at the basins nodded. Mrs. Bradley drew him into the +sitting-room. The buzz of conversation ceased as she introduced him. +They all rose, bowed, and sat down again, but no one spoke. He tried +to detain his hostess, but she would not stay. + +"I've got to look atter the rest," she said. "You must talk to some o' +these folks. They didn't come here jest to look at you. Here, Jennie +Wynn, turn yore face round, an' give Frank a chance to talk to Lou." +She whisked off into another room, and Westerfelt found himself facing +a blushing maiden with a round face, dark hair and eyes. + +"Excuse my back," she said over her shoulder to Frank Hansard. + +"It _hain't_ as purty as yore face, ef you _have_ got on a new dress," +he replied, laughing. + +"Hush, Frank; hain't you got no manners?" She meant that he was +showing discourtesy by continuing to talk to her when she had just been +introduced to a stranger. + +"You ought not to be hard on him," said Westerfelt; "he must have meant +what he said." + +"You are jest like all the rest, I reckon," she said; "men think girls +don't care for nothin' but sweet talk." + +Just then the old negro fiddler moved into the chimney-corner and raked +his violin with his bow. Jennie Wynn knew that he was about to ask the +couples to take their places for the first dance. She did not want +Westerfelt to feel obliged to ask her to be his partner, so she +pretended to be interested in the talk of a couple on her left. + +"Do they dance the lancers?" asked Westerfelt. + +"No, jest the reg'lar square dance. Only one or two know the lancers, +an' they make a botch of it whenever they try to teach the rest. Uncle +Mack cayn't play the music for it, anyway, though he swears he can." + +She glanced across the room at a pretty little girl with short curly +hair, slender body, and small feet, and added, significantly, "Sarah +Wambush is our brag dancer." + +He understood what she meant. "Too short for a fellow as tall as I am, +though," he said. + +"Git yo' pahtners fer de quadrille!" cried the fiddler, in a sing-song +voice, quite in harmony with his music. Westerfelt did not want to +dance. He had ridden hard that day, and was tired and miserable, but +he saw no way of escape. The party had been given in his honor, and he +must show appreciation of it. + +"Will you dance it with me?" he asked the girl at his side. "I am not +a good dancer, and I am stiff from riding to-day." + +"Old Mack will soon take that out of you," she laughed, as she gladly +nodded her acceptance. She put out her hand to his. "Quick!" she +cried; "let's git that place near the door--it's head, and we can be +opposite Sarah and Nelse Baker." He followed her across the room. He +felt as undignified as if he were romping with a child. The room was +not large enough for two sets, so only one of four couples was formed. +Old Mack noticed that three couples were left sitting, and cried out, +autocratically, "Double on de sides!" Two couples sprang eagerly +forward and took places, leaving one couple alone in a corner. The +girl remaining with her partner attracted Westerfelt's attention. She +had rich brown hair, deep gray eyes, a small, well-shaped mouth, and a +rather sad but decidedly pretty face. There was something very +graceful and attractive in the general contour of her body--her small +waist, her broad shoulders and rounding chest, her well-formed head, +and the artistic arrangement of her abundant hair. There was +something, too, in the tasteful simplicity of her gray tailor-made gown +that reminded Westerfelt of the dress of young ladies he had seen on +short visits to the larger towns in the State. + +Her companion was the most conspicuous person in the room. He was +above medium height, and had a splendid physique--broad shoulders, +muscular limbs, light brown eyes, short brown beard, and long curling +hair. He wore a navy-blue sack-coat, large checked trousers tucked in +the tops of his boots, a gray woollen shirt, and a broad leather belt. +He was the only man in the room who had not taken off his hat. It was +very broad, the brim was pinned up on one side by a little brass +ornament, and he wore it on the back of his head. + +Westerfelt caught the eye of his partner, and asked: "Who is the fellow +with the hat on?" + +"Don't you know him?" she asked, in surprise. "Why, that's Toot +Wambush, Sarah's brother." + +"Why don't he take off his hat?" + +"For want of better sense, I reckon." Then she laughed, impulsively. +"I'll tell you why he always keeps it on in the house. He was at a +party over at Sand Bank last spring, an'--" + +"Han's to yo' pahtners!" cried out Uncle Mack, as he drew his bow +across three or four strings at once, producing a harmony of bass, +alto, and treble sounds. "Salute de lady on yo' right!" + +Whack! + +The bridge of the fiddle had fallen. Everybody laughed over Uncle +Mack's discomfiture, as he rubbed the rosin out of his eyes and +grunted, half amused, half vexed at the accident. He held the violin +between his knees and proceeded to adjust the bridge. + +"You were telling me why that fellow keeps on his hat," Westerfelt +reminded his partner. + +"Oh yes!" laughed the girl, "that's so. Toot's never satisfied if he +ain't in a row o' some sort. He will always manage to pick a quarrel +out of something. He's mighty troublesome, especially when he's +drinkin'. He was pretty full over there that night, an' kept dancin' +with his hat on. Mis' Lumpkin, who give the dance, asked 'im quietly +to take it off an' behave like a gentleman. That made 'im mad, an' he +swore he'd die first. Then some o' the boys tuk Mis' Lumpkin's part, +an' tol' 'im the hat would come off ur he'd go out. It 'ud be a treat +to see Toot Wambush mad if you could feel sure you wouldn't get hit. +He clamped his hands together behind 'im an' yelled to Uncle Mack to +stop fiddlin'; then he 'lowed ef any man thar tried to oust 'im he'd +put windows in 'im. Frank Hansard, Lum Evans, and Andy Treadwell made +signs at one another an' closed in on 'im. They didn't fully realize +who they had to deal with, though. I hain't got much use for Toot, but +he'll fight a circular saw bare-handed. He backed into a corner over a +pile o' split pine-knots an' grabbed one that Thad Muntford declared +wuz shaped like the jaw-bone o' Samson's ass. It had a long handle an' +weighed about fifteen pounds. On my word, it seemed to me he slugged +Frank and Andy at exactly the same time. You could 'a' heerd the'r +skulls pop to the gate. They both fell kerflop in front of 'im. That +left jest Lum Evans facin' 'im 'thout a thing in his hands. He dodged +Toot's pine-knot when he swung it at 'im an' then Toot laughed an' +thowed it down and shook his fists at 'im, an' tol' 'im to come on for +a fair fisticuff. Jest then Frank come to an' started to rise, but +Toot sent 'im back with a kick in the face, an' helt 'im down with 'is +boot on 'is neck. Andy backed out of the door, an' then Toot ordered +Uncle Mack to play, an' tried to get the girls to dance with 'im, but +nobody would, so he danced by 'isse'f, while Doc White an' Mis' Lumpkin +worked on the wounded men in the next room. Since then Toot has al'ays +wore his hat at dances. He swore he never would go to one unless he +did." + +Westerfelt laughed. "Who's the young lady?" he asked. + +"Harriet Floyd. Her mother keeps the hotel. They 'ain't been here so +mighty long; they're Tennessee folks." + +"Sweethearts?" + +"Don't know. He's 'er very shadder. I reckon she likes that sort of a +man; she's peculiar, anyway." + +"How do you mean?" + +"I don't know, but she is." Jennie shrugged her shoulders. "She don't +git on with us. In a crowd o' girls she never has much to say; it +always seemed to me she was afraid somebody would find out some'n' +about 'er. She never mentions Tennessee. But she's a great favorite +with all the boys. They'd be a string o' 'em round 'er now, but they +don't want to make Toot mad." + +"Right han' ter yo' pahtners," called out Uncle Mack, rapping on the +back of his fiddle with his bow. "Salute yo' pahtners; balance all!" +and the dance began. "Swing corners! Fust fo' for'ards, en back agin!" + +"Faster, Unc' Mack!" cried Sarah Wambush, as she swung past the old +negro. "That hain't the right time!" + +"Wait till he gets limbered up," cried Frank Hansard across to her. +"He hain't drawed a bow in two weeks, an' has been ploughin' a two-hoss +turnover." + +Louder and louder grew the music and the clatter of shoes and boots. +The air was filled with dust; old Mack's fiddle could hardly be heard +above his shouts and the laughter of the dancers. Luke and Mrs. +Bradley stood in the open door leading to the kitchen, both smiling. +Mrs. Bradley seemed pleased with the ease with which Westerfelt +appeared to be adapting himself to the company. + +"Git the straws, Luke!" urged Frank Hansard, as the "grand chain" +brought him near Bradley. "Give it to us lively." + +"I can't beat straws," said Luke. + +Hearing this, old Mack uttered a contradictory guffaw, and shook his +gray wool in high amusement. + +"Go on, Luke," said his wife, as she pushed him towards the fiddler; +"you kin, you know you kin." + +Luke edged round between the dancers and the fire, and took two smooth +sour-wood sticks from Mack's coat-pocket. The old negro laughed and +sang all the louder as he held his head to one side and Luke began to +thrum the strings in time to the music. + +"Whoo-ee!" shouted Frank, and the dance waxed faster and more noisy, +till the exhausted fiddler brought it to an end by crying out: + +"Seat yo' pahtners." + +Jennie sat down in a row of girls against the wall, and Mrs. Bradley +came to Westerfelt. + +"You must stir round," she said; "I want you to git acquainted. Come +over here an' talk to Sarah Wambush." He followed her across the room. +Sarah was seated next to Harriet Floyd. As he sat down near Sarah, he +fancied that Harriet, whose profile was towards him, gave him a glance +out of the corner of her eye, but she turned her head and continued +talking to Toot Wambush. There was something he liked in the ease of +her position as she sat, balling her handkerchief in a hand hidden half +in the pocket of her jacket. He thought her easily the prettiest girl +in the room, and he vaguely resented the fact that she was receiving +marked attention from a man of Wambush's character. + +He wanted to knock the fellow's hat off, and tell him that a new man +had come into the settlement who could not, and would not, stand such +nonsense in the presence of ladies. + +He listened to Sarah's prattle with only half an ear, adding a word now +and then to keep her tongue going, till another dance was called. +Nelse Baker asked Sarah to be his partner, and she rose. Finding +himself alone, Westerfelt got up. As he did so, he caught another +glance from the corner of Harriet Floyd's eye, but she looked away +quickly. She thought he was going to ask her to dance with him when he +turned towards her, but he had decided to invite a little plain girl +who sat next the wall, hemmed in by the crossed legs of Wambush. The +girl flushed over the unexpected attention and rose at once. + +"That couple don't seem to be dancing," Westerfelt remarked, with a +glance at Wambush and Harriet, as he and his partner took a place in +front of the fire. + +"No," she answered. "Toot sorter sprained his foot at a log-rollin' +to-day." + +"And she won't dance without him, is that it?" + +"She would, but none o' the boys won't ask her when Toot's on hand." + +"Ah, I see--engaged?" + +"No. I reckon not; but Toot sorter lays claim to 'er though." + +"And she don't object?" + +She looked up and laughed. "It don't look much like it, does it?" + +"I don't know; I never saw them together before." + +"Oh, I see; well, he's her regular stand-by; he takes 'er to all the +frolics, an' the picnics, an' to meetin'. He lives out at his +father's, a mile or so from town, but he gets meals mighty often at the +hotel." + +As the dance began Westerfelt glanced again at Harriet Floyd. He could +not explain the interest he had in her. She was looking straight into +his eyes, as if she had divined that he was talking about her. He was +almost certain that she colored slightly as she glanced on to Mrs. +Bradley. + +Mrs. Bradley smiled and moved towards her, between the wall and the +flying heels of the revolving circle. Westerfelt, in turning his "lady +on the right," came near them as Mrs. Bradley was saying: + +"I want you to get acquainted with my Fannin young man, Harriet. He's +mighty nice." + +At that moment Harriet caught Westerfelt's eye again, and knew that he +had heard the remark. + +She nodded, and said, evasively, "You are having a nice dance, Mrs. +Bradley; they all seem to be enjoying it very much." + +Westerfelt had not heard her voice before, and he liked it. He noticed +that she did not leave off her final g's, and that she spoke more +clearly and correctly than the others. He concluded that she must have +received a better education than the average young lady in that +section. The dance was nearly ended when Westerfelt saw Wambush bend +over and whisper something to her. She nodded, drew her white shawl +round her shoulders, rose, and followed him out through the kitchen. + +"Gone to try the moonlight," remarked the little gossip at Westerfelt's +side, with a knowing smile. + +"All promenade!" shouted the fiddler, the dance being over. The +couples went outside. They passed Wambush and Harriet on the porch, +leaning against the banisters in the moonlight. Her head was covered +with her shawl, and her companion was very near her. + +"Never mind; we won't bother you," called out Sarah Wambush, who, with +Nelson Baker, led the promenaders. "We're goin' down the walk; you +needn't run off on our account." + +All the others laughed, and Sarah, thinking she had said something +bright, added: "Harriet's got a bad cold, an' Buddy's sprained his +foot; they're takin' the'r medicine." + +This evoked another laugh, but neither Wambush nor his companion heeded +it. Westerfelt observed that they turned their backs to the +promenaders and seemed to be talking earnestly. + +"It's cool out here," said Westerfelt's partner as they were returning +from the walk under the arbor of grape-vines. "They are all goin' +inside." + +At about twelve o'clock the guests began to leave. Harriet Floyd, +followed by Wambush, came in hurriedly after most of the others had +gone. Westerfelt was near Mrs. Bradley when she came to say +good-night. He heard her say she had enjoyed herself very much, but +she spoke hurriedly, as if she did not want to be the last to leave. +Westerfelt watched them go through the gate, but he turned away when +Wambush put his arm round her waist and lifted her lightly into his +buggy. + +He was sure he would never like the fellow. + + +Just before Westerfelt went to bed, Bradley looked into his room. + +"I 'lowed I'd better take a peep at that stove o' yore'n, an' see that +thar ain't any danger o' fire while we are asleep," he said. "How'd +you make out to-night?" + +"First rate." + +"I 'lowed you wus gittin' on well enough--talked to most all the gals, +I reckon." + +"All but one, I think--that Miss Floyd." + +"Ah, Toot's gal; mortgaged property, I reckon, or soon will be; she's +as purty as red shoes, though, an' as peert as a cricket." + +Westerfelt sat down on the side of his bed and drew off his boots. + +"What sort of a man is he, Luke?" + +"Bad--bad; no wuss in seven States." + +"Fighting man?" + +"Yes; an' whiskey an' moonshinin' an' what not; ain't but one good +p'int in 'im, an' that hain't wuth much in time o' peace. I reckon ef +yo're through with it, I'd better take yore candle; sometimes I have to +strike a light 'fore day." + +"All right." Westerfelt got into the bed and drew the covers up to his +chin. There was a thumping on the floor beneath the house. + +"It's the dogs," explained Luke, at the door. "They are a-flirtin' +the'r tails about. They'll settle down terrectly. What time do you +want to rise in the mornin'?" + +"When you do. I'm no hand to lie in bed." + +"You'll have to crawl out with the chickens then." + +"Luke!" + +Bradley turned at the door. "What is it, John?" + +"I don't like Wambush's looks." + +Bradley laughed, with his hand over his mouth. "Nobody else does to +hurt." + +"Do you think he would trifle with the affections of a young girl?" + +"Would he?" Again Bradley laughed. + +"Well, I reckon he would; he is a bad man, I tell you. We'd never 'low +him to enter our house, ef we could help it, but he'd raise the very +devil ef he was slighted. We'd never heer the end of it. Ef we'd left +'im out to-night I'd 'a' had 'im to fight out thar in the front yard +while the party was goin' on. I wouldn't mind it much, but my wife +never wanted me in a row." + +"This girl he was with to-night, has she father or brothers?" + +"No, the's jest her an' 'er mother." + +"Isn't it pretty risky for her to go with him so much?" + +"Oh, I reckon she kin take care o' herse'f; she has that look to me; +besides, she's been warned; my wife an' among 'em has talked to her +plenty o' times. I reckon she knows what he is well enough. Do you +know I had my eye on you an' her to-night?" + +"What do you mean, Luke?" Westerfelt managed to avoid meeting the eye +of his host as he put the question. He could not remember ever having +waited for a reply with more concern. + +"Oh, I don't know," smiled Bradley, knowingly; "but somehow you an' her +seemed to me to be head an' shoulders above the rest o' that silly +crowd. The idee just popped into my head that you'd make a spankin' +team, an' then ag'in" (Bradley laughed) "I tuck notice that you never +went up to 'er an' talked to her free-like, as you did to most o' the +rest, an' I remembered I wus jest that big a fool when I fust met +Marthy. But you wus a-watchin' of her, though. I'll bet ef you looked +at 'er once you did forty times. As for her, I happen to know some'n +funny. You see, I heerd her an' Wambush a-talkin' on the back porch +when I went out thar to draw up a bucket o' water. The rope had got +tangled somehow, an' I had to fix it, an' while I was doin' of it I +couldn't help heerin' what they said, beca'se Toot wus as mad as a wet +hen, an' didn't keer a dern who heerd 'im." + +"Mad--at her?" ejaculated Westerfelt. + +"Yes; it seemed that he had bantered her to say what she thought about +you, an' she'd up an' told him you wus about the best-lookin' man she'd +ever seed, an' that you looked like a born gentleman, an' one thing +anuther. I couldn't heer all that passed betwixt 'em, but he wus as +nigh a' explosion as I ever seed 'im git without goin' off. You'd +better look out. He won't do to meddle with. He's a bad egg--an' +tricky." + +When Bradley had gone, leaving his guest in the dark, Westerfelt found +himself unable to sleep for thinking of what Luke had said. + +"I wonder, really," he mused, "why I didn't talk to her as I did to the +others, for I certainly wanted to bad enough." + + + + +Chapter VI + +Westerfelt's room at the stable was at the head of a flight of steps +leading up from the office. It had only a single window, but it +commanded a partial view of several roads leading into the village, and +a sparse row of houses on the opposite side of the street. In front of +the stable stood a blacksmith shop, and next to it, on the right, the +only store in the village. The store building had two rooms, the front +being used for dry-goods, groceries, and country produce, the one in +the rear as the residence of the storekeeper. Next to the store, in a +sort of lean-to, whitewashed shed with green shutters, was a bar-room. +Farther on in this row, opposite the jail of the place, and partially +hidden by the thinning foliage of sycamore, chestnut, and mulberry +trees, was the hotel. It was the only two-storied building in the +village. It had dormer windows in the roof and a long veranda in front. + +Somehow this building interested Westerfelt more than any of the +others. He told himself it was because he intended to get his meals +there. Finally he decided, as he was not to dine that day with the +Bradleys, that he ought to go over at once and speak to the landlady +about his board. As he arranged his cravat before the little +walnut-framed mirror, which the stable-boys in placing his furniture +had hung on the wall, together with a hairbrush and a comb tied to +strings, he wondered, with no little pleasurable excitement, if Harriet +Floyd had anything to do with the management of the house, and if he +would be apt to meet her that morning. + +Descending to the office on his way out, he found a young man writing +at a desk. It was William Washburn, the book-keeper for the former +owners of the livery-stable, whom Westerfelt had retained on Bradley's +recommendation. Washburn was copying accounts from a ledger on to +sheets of paper. + +"How are they running?" asked Westerfelt, looking over the young man's +shoulder. + +"Lots of 'em hain't wuth the paper they are on," replied Washburn. +"The old firm knowed everybody in creation, an' never could refuse a +soul. When you bought the accounts you didn't buy gold dollars." + +"I know that, but Bradley said he thought I might collect a good many +of them." + +"Oh yes; maybe a half, or tharabouts." + +"Well," said Westerfelt, indifferently, "we'll do the best we can." + +"Thar's a big un that's no good." Washburn pointed to an account he +had just copied. + +"Who's it on?" + +"Toot Wambush." + +"How much?" + +"Seventy-eight dollars an' fifty cents. It's been runnin' on fer two +yeer, an' thar hain't a single credit on it. He never was knowed to +pay a cent to nobody." + +"Don't let anything out to him till the account is paid." + +Washburn looked up with a dubious smile. "He'll raise a' awful row. +He never wants to go anywhar tell he's drinkin', an' then he's as ill +as a snake an' will fight at the drop of a hat. Nobody in Cartwright +dares to refuse 'im credit." + +"I will, if he doesn't pay up." + +"D' y' ever see 'im?" + +"Yes, last night." + +"I'd be cautious if I wus you; he's a dangerous man, an' takes offence +at the slightest thing." + +"If he gets mad at me for refusing to let him drive my horses when he +owes a bill like that, and won't pay it, he can do so. I obey the law +myself, and I will not let drunkards run my business to suit +themselves." + +"He's talking 'bout goin' out to his father's this morning, an' wants +to drive the same rig he had last night." + +"I did not know he had my turnout last night." + +"Yes, you wusn't heer, an' I knowed he'd make trouble if I refused him." + +"That's all right, but don't let him get in any deeper till the old +debt is settled. I'm going over to the hotel a minute." + +It was a warm day for October, and the veranda of the hotel was crowded +with loungers, homely men in jeans, slouched hats, and coarse brogans. +Some of them sat on the benches, supported by the square columns, at +the end of the veranda; a few had tilted their chairs against the wall, +and others stood in groups and talked county politics. + +They all eyed Westerfelt curiously, and some of them nodded and said +"Howdy do" as he passed. He entered the parlor on the right of the +long hall which ran through the centre of the main wing. A slovenly +negro girl was sweeping the hearth. She leaned her broom against the +cottage organ and went to call her mistress. + +A sombre rag carpet was on the floor, and a rug made of brilliant red +and blue scraps of silk lay in front of the fire. On a centre-table, +covered with a red flannel cloth, stood a china vase, filled with +colored leaves and grasses, and lying near it was a plush photograph +album. The rest of the furniture consisted of an ancient hair-cloth +sofa, an old rocking-chair, the arms of which had been tied on with +twine, and a sewing-machine. The windows had cheap lace curtains, +stiff enough to stand alone, and green shades with tinselled +decorations. The plastered walls were whitewashed and the ceiling was +faded sky-blue. + +He heard a door close somewhere in the rear, and then with a light step +Harriet Floyd entered. + +"Good-morning," she said, slightly embarrassed. "Mother was busy, and +so she asked me to come in." + +"I believe we were introduced, in a general way, last night," he said. +"I hope you remember." + +"Oh yes, indeed," she made answer. + +He thought she was even prettier in the daylight in her simple calico +dress and white apron than she had appeared the evening before, and he +was conscious that the sharp realization of this fact was causing him +to pause unnecessarily long before speaking in his turn. But he simply +could not help it; he experienced a subtle pleasure he could not +explain in watching her warm, slightly flushed face. Her eyes held a +wonderful charm for him. There seemed to be a strange union of forces +between her long lashes and the pupils of her eyes, the like of which +he believed he had never met before. + +"I've come to see if I can get my meals here," he said. "It is near my +place of business, and I've heard a lot of good things about your +mother's table." + +"We always have plenty of room," she answered, simply. "Mother will be +glad to have you. Won't you take a seat?" She sat down on the sofa +and he took a chair opposite her. + +"I suppose you enjoyed the party last night," he said, tentatively. + +He fancied she raised her brows a little and glanced at him rather +steadily, but she looked down when she replied. + +"Yes; Mrs. Bradley always gives us a good time." + +"But you were not dancing." + +"No, I don't care much for it, and Toot--Mr. Wambush--had sprained his +foot and said he'd rather not dance." + +"That was very kind of you. Not many girls would be so considerate of +a fellow's feelings." + +She looked down at a brindled cat that came into the room and rubbed +its side against her skirt. + +"I don't think girls care enough about the feelings of men," she +answered, after a little pause. "If they would treat them nicer they +would be better." + +"You think women can reform men then?" + +"Yes, I do; though a man that drinks is mighty hard to manage. +Sometimes they can't help it, and they drink more when women show that +they have lost confidence in them." + +He liked what she had said, notwithstanding its being an indirect +defence of Wambush, but was prevented from answering by hearing his +name angrily called in the street. This was followed by heavy +footsteps on the veranda. + +"Whar is that d----d livery man?" The voice was now in the hall. + +"It's Toot Wambush!" cried the girl, rising quickly and turning to the +door. "I am afraid he--" Just then the young ruffian entered. His +red face and unsteady walk showed that he had been drinking. + +"Say, Miss Harriet, have you seed--oh, heer you are!"--he broke off as +he noticed Westerfelt. "You are the one man in the United Kingdom that +I want to see jest at this present moment. Bill Washburn 'lowed he had +orders from you not to let me have anything out'n yore shebang; is that +so?" + +"I'd rather not talk business here," replied Westerfelt. He rose and +coolly looked Wambush in the face. "If you say so, we'll walk across +to the stable." + +"No," sneered Wambush, "this heer's good enough fur me; I hain't got no +secrets frum them mount'in men out thar nur this young lady. I jest +want ter know now--right _now_, by Glory! ef you ever give sech orders." + +"Do you think this is a proper place to settle such a matter?" calmly +asked Westerfelt. + +"D----d you; you are a coward; you are afeerd to say so!" + +Harriet Floyd, with a white, startled face, tried to slip between the +two men, but Wambush roughly pushed her aside. + +"You _are_ afeerd!" he repeated, shaking his fist in Westerfelt's face. + +"No, I'm not," replied Westerfelt. The corners of his mouth were drawn +down and his chin was puckered. "I have fought some in my life, and +sometimes I get as mad as the next one, but I still try to be decent +before ladies. This is no place to settle a difficulty." + +"Will you do it outside, then?" sneered Wambush. + +Westerfelt hesitated, and looked at the crowd that filled the door and +stood peering in at the window. Mrs. Floyd was running up and down in +the hall, excitedly calling for Harriet, but the crowd was too anxious +to hear Westerfelt's reply to notice her. + +"If nothing else will suit you, yes," answered Westerfelt, calmly. "I +don't think human beings ought to spill blood over a matter of +business, and I don't like to fight a man that's drinking, but since +you have behaved so in this lady's presence, I'm really kinder in the +notion." + +"Come on, then," blustered Wambush. "I'm either yore meat or you are +mine." He turned to the door and pushed the crowd before him as he +stamped out of the hall into the street. + +Harriet ran between Westerfelt and the door. She put her hands on his +shoulders and looked at him beseechingly. "Don't go out there," she +pleaded; "stay here and let him cool off; he is drinking! He's a +dangerous man." + +He took her hands and held them for an instant and then dropped them. +"I'm afraid he's been humored too much," he smiled. "I'd never have +any respect for myself if I was to back down now. I've known his kind +to be cured by a good, sound thrashing, when nothing else would do any +good." + +She raised her hands again, but he avoided her gently and went out into +the street. Wambush stood on the sidewalk a few yards from the door, +one booted foot on the curbstone, the other on the ground. He had +thrown his broad-brimmed hat on the ground, and tossed his long hair +back over his shoulders. His left hand rested on his raised knee, his +right was in the pocket of his short coat. + +"Come on, if you ain't too weak-kneed," he jeered, as Westerfelt +appeared on the veranda. + +Westerfelt advanced towards Wambush, but when he was within a few feet +of him, Wambush suddenly drew a revolver, cocked it, and deliberately +raised it. Westerfelt stopped and looked straight into Wambush's eyes. + +"I'm unarmed," said he; "I never carry a pistol; is that the way you do +your fighting?" + +"That's yore lookout, not mine, d----n you!" + +Just then Luke Bradley ran up the sidewalk and out on the veranda near +Westerfelt. He had a warning on his lips, but seeing the critical +situation he said nothing. A white, tigerish look came into the face +of Westerfelt. The cords of his neck tightened as he leaned slowly +towards Wambush. He was about to spring. + +"Don't be a fool, John," cautioned Bradley. "Be ashamed o' yorese'f, +Toot! Drap that gun, an' fight like a man ur not at all!" + +Wambush's eye ran along the revolver, following every movement of +Westerfelt's with the caution of a panther watching dangerous prey. + +"One more inch and you are a dead man!" he said, slowly. + +Mrs. Floyd, who was on the veranda, cried out and threw her arms round +Harriet, who seemed ready to run between the two men. No one quite saw +how it happened, but Westerfelt suddenly bent near the earth and sprang +forward. Wambush's revolver went off over his head, and before he +could cock it again, Westerfelt, with a swift sweep of his arm, had +sent it spinning through a window-pane in the hotel. + +"Ah!" escaped somebody's lips in the silent crowd, and the two men, +closely on the alert, faced each other. + +"Part 'em, men; what are you about?" cried Mrs. Floyd. + +"Yes, part 'em," laughed a man on the edge of the crowd; "somebody 'll +get his beauty spiled; Toot kin claw like a pant'er; I don't know what +t'other man kin do, but he looks game." + +"No, let 'em fight it out fa'r an' squar'," suggested red-faced Buck +Hillhouse, the bar-keeper, in the autocratic tone he used in conducting +cock-fights in his back yard. + +The blood had left Westerfelt's face. Wambush's eyes gleamed +desperately; disarmed, he looked less a man than an infuriated beast. +Westerfelt was waiting for him to make the attack, but, unlike his +antagonist, was growing calmer every second. All at once Wambush sent +his right arm towards Westerfelt's face so quickly that the spectators +scarcely saw it leave his side, but it was not quicker than +Westerfelt's left, which skilfully parried the thrust. Then, before +Toot could shield himself, Westerfelt struck him with the force of a +battering-ram squarely in the mouth. + +Wambush whined in pain, spat blood from gashed lips, and shook his head +like a lion wounded in the mouth. He ran backward a few feet to +recover himself, and then, with a mad cry, rushed at Westerfelt and +caught him by the throat. Westerfelt tried to shake him off, but he +was unsuccessful. He attempted to strike him in the face, but Wambush +either dodged the thrusts or caught them in his thick hair. It seemed +that Westerfelt's only chance now was to throw his assailant down, but +his strength had left him, Wambush's claws had sunk into his neck like +prongs of steel. He could not breathe. + +"Hit 'im in the bread-basket, John!" cried Luke Bradley. + +It was a happy suggestion. Westerfelt struck Wambush in the stomach. +With a gasp and an oath, Wambush doubled up and released Westerfelt's +throat. The two men now clinched breast to breast, and, with arms +round each other's bodies, each began to try to throw the other down. +They swung back and forth and from side to side, but they were well +mated. + +Westerfelt suddenly threw his left leg behind Wambush's heels and began +to force him backward. In an instant Wambush would have gone down, but +seeing his danger he wriggled out of Westerfelt's grasp, drew something +from his coat pocket, and sprang towards him. + +"Knife! knife! knife!" cried Luke Bradley in alarm. "Part 'em!" + +"Yes, part 'em!" echoed the bar-keeper with an oath, as if the edge of +his pleasure had been taken off by the more serious turn of affairs. +Several men ran towards Wambush, but they were not quick enough. He +had stabbed Westerfelt once in the breast and drawn back his arm for +another thrust, when Luke Bradley caught his wrist. Wambush struck at +Bradley with his left hand, but the bar-keeper caught it, and between +him and Bradley, Wambush was overpowered. + +"The sheriff's coming!" a voice exclaimed, as a big man rode up quickly +and dismounted. + +"Hello!" he cried, "I summon you, Buck Hillhouse, and Luke Bradley, in +the name o' the law to 'rest Wambush. Take that knife from 'im!" + +"Arrest the devil!" came from Wambush's bloody lips. He made a violent +effort to free himself, but the two men held him. + +"I'll he'p yer, whether you deputize me or not!" grunted Bradley, as he +hung to the hand which still held the knife, "I'll he'p yer cut 'is +d----d throat, the cowardly whelp!" + +"I've got nothin' 'gin nuther party," said the bar-keeper, "but I +reckon I'll have to obey the law." + +"He's attempted deliberate murder on a unarmed man," Bradley informed +the sheriff; "fust with a gun an' then with a knife. Ef you don't jail +'im, Bale Warlick, you'll never hold office in Cohutta Valley agin." + +The sheriff stepped up to Wambush. + +"Drap that knife!" he ordered. "Drap it!" + +"Go to h----!" Toot ceased his struggling and glared defiantly into the +face of the sheriff. + +"Drap that knife!" The sheriff was becoming angered. He grasped +Wambush's hand and tried to take the knife away, but Toot's fingers +were like coils of wire. + +"I'll see you damned fust!" grunted Wambush, and, powerless to do +anything else, he spat in the sheriff's face. + +"d----n you, I'll kill you!" roared Warlick, and he struck Wambush on the +jaw. Wambush tried to kick him in the stomach, but Bradley prevented +it by jerking him backward. It now became a struggle between three men +and one, and that one really seemed equal in strength to the other +three. + +"Drap the knife!" yelled Warlick again, and he drew a big revolver, and +with the butt of it began to hammer Toot's clinched fingers. As he did +this, Bradley and Hillhouse drew Wambush backward and down to the +ground. + +"I'll pay you for this, Bale Warlick," he groaned in pain, but he still +held to the knife. + +"Let go that knife," thundered the sheriff. "Let it a-loose, I tell +you, or I'll mash your skull!" + +"Not while I hold 'im, Bale," said the bar-keeper, sullenly. "Law or +no law, I won't he'p beat no man 'at's down!" + +"Let go that knife!" The sheriff spoke the last word almost in a +scream, and he beat Wambush's knuckles so furiously that the knife fell +to the ground. + +He then pinned Toot's legs to the earth with his knees, and held the +knife up to a man in the crowd. + +"Keep it jest like it is fur evidence," he panted. "Don't shet it up +or tetch the blade." + +Disarmed, Wambush seemed suddenly overcome with fear. He allowed the +sheriff to jerk him to his feet, and walked passively between the three +men across the street to the stone jail. + +Westerfelt stood alone on the sidewalk. Everybody went to see Wambush +locked up except Harriet and her mother. They instantly came out to +Westerfelt. Harriet picked up a folded piece of letter paper. + +"Did you drop this?" she asked. + +He did not reply, but took the paper absently and thrust it into his +coat pocket. It had fallen from Wambush's pocket. He was very white +and leaned heavily against a sycamore-tree. + +"Oh, he's cut your coat; look!" Harriet cried. + +Still he did not speak. He looked down at the slit in the cloth and +raised his hand towards it, but his arm fell limply and he swayed from +side to side. + +"Are you hurt?" asked Mrs. Floyd, anxiously. + +"I think not," he said; "but maybe I am, a little." + +Harriet opened his coat and screamed, "Oh, mother, he's cut! Look at +the blood!" + +He tried to button his coat, but could not use his fingers. "Only a +scratch," he said. + +"But your clothes are wet with blood," Harriet insisted, as she pointed +to his trousers. + +He stooped and felt them. They were damp and heavy. Then he raised +his heel in his right boot, and let it down again. + +"It's full," he said, with a sickly smile. "I reckon I _have_ lost +some blood. Why--why, I didn't feel it." + +Martin Worthy, the storekeeper, ran across from the jail ahead of the +others. Hearing Westerfelt's remark, he cried: + +"My Lord! you must go inside an' lie down; fix a place, Miss Harriet, +an' send fer a doctor, quick!" + +Harriet ran into the house, and Mrs. Floyd and Worthy supported +Westerfelt between them into a room adjoining the parlor. They made +him lie on a bed, and Worthy opened his waistcoat and shirt. + +"Good gracious, it's runnin' like a wet-weather spring," he said. +"Have you sent fer a doctor?" he asked as Harriet came in. + +"Yes; Dr. Lash, but he may not be at his office." + +"Send for Dr. Wells," he ordered a man at the door. "That's right," he +added to Harriet, who had knelt by the bed and was holding the lips of +the wound together, "keep the cut closed as well as you kin! I'll go +tell 'im to use my hoss." + +As he went out there was a clatter of feet on the veranda. The people +were returning from the jail. Westerfelt opened his eyes and looked +towards the door. + +"They'll crowd in here," said Harriet to her mother. "Shut the door; +don't let anybody in except Mr. Bradley." + +Mrs. Floyd closed the door in the face of the crowd, asking them to go +outside, but they remained in the hall, silent and awed, waiting for +news of the wounded man. Mrs. Floyd admitted Luke Bradley. + +"My heavens, John, I had no idea he got such a clean sweep at you!" he +said, as he approached the bed. "Ef I'd a-knowed this I'd 'a' killed +the dirty scamp!" + +"I'm all right," replied Westerfelt; "just a little loss of blood." +But his voice was faint and his eyelids drooped despite his effort to +keep them open. Worthy rapped at the door and was admitted. + +"Doc Lash has rid out to Widow Treadwell's," he announced. "He's been +sent fer, an' ort ter git heer before long. It'll take a hour to git +Wells, even ef he's at home." + +Harriet Floyd glanced at her mother when she heard this. Her knees +ached and her fingers felt stiff and numb, but she dared not stir. + +Once Westerfelt opened his eyes and looked down at her. + +"Do I hurt you?" she asked, softly. + +"Not a bit." He smiled, and his eyes lingered on her face till their +lids dropped over them. + + + + +Chapter VII + +Dr. Lash came a little earlier than he was expected. The wound was not +really a fatal one, he said, but if Miss Harriet had not been so +attentive and skilful in keeping the cut closed, the man would have +bled to death. + +Westerfelt dropped to sleep, and when he awoke it was night. A lamp, +the light of which was softened by a pink shade, stood on a +sewing-machine near the fireplace. At first he could not recall what +had happened nor where he was, and he felt very weak and sleepy. After +awhile, however, he became conscious of the fact that he was not alone. +A slight figure was moving silently about the room, now at the +fireplace, again at a table where some lint, bandages, and phials had +been left. The figure approached his bed cautiously. It was Harriet +Floyd. When she saw that he was awake, she started to move away, but +he detained her. + +"I'm a lot of trouble for a new boarder," he said, smiling. "This is +my first day, and yet I've turned your house into a fortification and a +hospital." + +"You are not a bit of trouble; the doctor said let you sleep as much as +possible." + +"I don't need sleep; I've been hurt worse than this before." + +She put her hand on his brow. "It'll make you feverish to talk, Mr. +Westerfelt; go to sleep." + +"Did they jail Wambush?" + +"Yes." + +"Toughest customer I ever tackled." He laughed, dryly. + +She made no reply. She went to the fire and began stirring the +contents of a three-legged pot on the coals. To see her better, he +turned over on his side. The bed slats creaked. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, running to him, "you'll break the stitches, and +bleed again. Don't move that way." + +He raised the blanket and looked down at his wound. + +"I reckon they are holding all right, though I _did_ feel a little +twinge." + +"You have not had any dinner or supper," she went on. "Dr. Lash said +if you wanted anything I might give you some gruel and milk. I've made +it, and it is keeping warm at the fire. Will you take some?" + +"No, I thank you; I can wait till breakfast. Then I'll set up at the +table and eat a square meal; somehow, I'm not hungry. Wambush objected +mightily to being jailed, didn't he?" + +"You ought not to wait till breakfast," she said, looking at the fire; +"you'd better let me give you some of this gruel." + +"All right; you are the doctor." + +She dipped up some of the gruel in a bowl, and, adding some milk to it, +came back to him. But she was confronted by a difficulty. He could +not eat gruel and milk from a spoon while lying on his back. He saw +this, and put his hands on either side of him and started to sit up. + +"Oh, don't!" she cried, setting the bowl on the floor and gently +pushing him back on his pillow; "you must not!" + +He laughed. "Just like a woman. You surely don't think I'm going to +lie here for a week, like a sick cat, for such a little scratch. I've +lost some blood, that's all." And before she could prevent it, he had +drawn himself up and was smiling broadly. + +"I can't look after sick folks," she said, in despair. "The doctor +will blame me." + +"I heard him say if you hadn't held my cut so well I'd have bled to +death." + +"Anybody else could have done it." + +"Nobody else didn't." + +"Do you want the gruel? Take it quick, and lie down again; you'll lose +strength sitting up." + +"You'll have to feed me," he said, opening his mouth. "I'm too blamed +weak to sit up without propping with my hands, and they don't seem very +good supports. Look how that one is wobbling." + +She sat down on the edge of the bed, and without a word placed the bowl +in her lap and her arm round him. Then neither spoke as she filled the +spoon and held it to his lips. She felt him trying to steady his arms +to keep his weight from her. + +"It's really good," he said, as she filled the spoon the second time, +"I had no idea I was so hungry; you say you made it?" + +"Yes; there now, I'll have to wipe your chin; you ought not to talk +when you are eating." + +For several minutes neither spoke. He finished the bowl of gruel and +lay down again. + +"I feel as mean as a dog," he said, as she rose and drew the cover over +him; "here I am being nursed by the very fellow's sweetheart I tried my +level best to do up." + +She turned and placed the bowl on the table, and then went to the fire. + +"I heard you were his girl last night," he went on. "Well, I'm glad I +didn't kill him. I wouldn't have tried in anything but self-defence, +for even if he did use a gun and knife, when I had none, he's got +bulldog pluck, and plenty of it. Do you know, I felt like mashing the +head of that sheriff for beating him like he did." + +She sat down before the fire, but soon rose again. "If I stay here," +she said, abruptly, and rather sharply, "you'll keep talking, and not +sleep at all. I'm going into the next room--the parlor. If you want +anything, call me and I'll come." + +A few minutes after she left him he fell asleep. She put a piece of +wood on the fire in the next room and sat down before it. She had left +the door of his room ajar, and a ray of light from his lamp fell across +the dark carpet and dimly illuminated the room. The hours passed +slowly. No one in the house was astir. No sound came from the outside +save the dismal barking of a dog down the road. She was fatigued and +almost asleep, when she was suddenly roused by a far-off shout. + +"Whoopee! Whoopee!" + +It seemed to come from the road leading down from the loftiest mountain +peak. She held her breath and listened. + +"Whoopee! Whoopee!" It was nearer. Then she heard the steady tramp +of horses' hoofs. She rose and went to the window, moving softly, that +her ear might not lose any of the sounds. She raised the window +cautiously and looked out. The moon was shining brightly, and down the +street beyond the livery-stable she saw a body of horsemen. + +"Great Heavens!" she exclaimed; "it's the 'Whitecaps'!" + +She drew back behind the curtains as the horsemen rode up to the hotel +and stopped. There were twenty or more, and each wore a white cap, a +white mask, and a white sheet over the body. + +"Thar's whar the scrimmage tuck place," explained some one in a muffled +voice, and a white figure pointed to the spot where Westerfelt and +Wambush had fought. "We must hurry an' take 'im out, an' have it over." + +Harriet Floyd heard some one breathing behind her. It was Westerfelt. +His elbow touched her as he leaned towards the window and peered out. +"Oh, it's you!" she cried. "Go back to bed, you--" + +He did not seem to hear her. The moonlight fell on his face. It was +ghastly pale. He suddenly drew back beside her to keep from being +observed by the men outside. His lips moved, but they made no sound. + +"Go back to bed," she repeated. She put out her hand and touched him, +but she did not look at him, being unable to resist the fascination of +the sight in the street. + +"What do they want?" he whispered. He put his hand on an old-fashioned +what-not behind him, and the shells and ornaments on it began to rattle. + +"I don't know," she said; "don't let 'em see you; you couldn't do +anything against so many. They are a band sworn to protect one +another." + +"His friends?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Ah, I see." He glanced at the two doors, one opening into the hall, +the other into his room, and then he swayed and clutched the curtain. + +She caught his arm and braced him up. "Oh, you _must_ go lie down; +you'll--" + +A noise outside drew her back to the window. The band was crossing the +street to the jail. + +"What are they going to do?" He steadied himself, resting his hand on +her shoulder, and looked through a pane above her head. + +"To take Toot out." + +"An' then he'll lead them, won't he?" + +"I don't know! I reckon so--oh, I can't tell!" She faced him for an +instant, a look of helpless indecision in her eyes; then she turned +again to the window. + +"I'll go slip on my coat," he said. "I--I'm cold. I'd better get +ready. You see, he may want to--call me out. I wish I had a gun--or +something." + +She made no answer, and he went into his room. He turned up the lamp, +but quickly lowered it again. He found his coat on a chair and put it +on. He wondered if he were actually afraid. Surely he had never felt +so before; perhaps his mind was not right--his wound and all his mental +trouble had affected his nerves, and then a genuine thrill of horror +went over him. Might not this be the particular form of punishment +Providence had singled out for the murderer of Sally Dawson--might it +not be the grewsome, belated answer to her mother's prayer? + +Just then Harriet entered the room softly and turned his light down +still lower. + +"Stay back here," she said, her tone almost a command. + +"Why?" + +"If they get Toot out, it would be just like him to try to-- You--you +are not strong enough to get out of their way. Oh, I don't know what +to do!" She went back to the window in the next room. He followed her, +and stood by her side. + +The white figures had dismounted at the jail. They paused at the gate +a moment, then filed into the yard and stood at the door. The leader +rapped on it loudly. + +"Hello in thar, Tarpley Brown, show yorese'f!" he cried. + +There was a silence for a moment. In the moonlight the body of men +looked like a snowdrift against the jail. The same voice spoke again: + +"Don't you keep us waitin' long, nuther, Tarp. You kin know what sort +we are by our grave-clothes ef you'll take the trouble to peep out o' +the winder." + +"What do you-uns want?" It was the quavering voice of the jailer, from +the wing of the house occupied by him and his family. + +His voice roused a sleeping infant, and it began to cry. The cry was +smothered by some one's hand over the child's mouth. + +"You know what we-uns want," answered the leader. "We come after Toot +Wambush; turn 'im out, ef you know what's good fer you." + +"Gentlemen, I'm a sworn officer of the law, I--" + +"Drap that! Open that cell door, ur we'll put daylight through you." + +This was followed by the low, pleading voice of the jailer's wife, +begging her husband to comply with the demand, and the wailing of two +or three children. + +"Wait, then!" yielded the jailer. Westerfelt heard a door slam and +chains clank and rattle on the wooden floor; a bolt was slid back, the +front door opened, and the white drift parted to receive a dark form. + +"Whar's my hoss?" doggedly asked Toot Wambush. + +"Out thar hitched to the fence," answered the leader. + +"You-uns was a hell of a time comin'," retorted Wambush. + +"Had to git together; most uv us never even heerd uv yore capture tell +a hour by sun. Huh, you'd better thank yore stars we re'ched you when +we did." + +The band filed out of the gate and mounted their horses. Toot Wambush +was a little in advance of the others. He suddenly turned his horse +towards the hotel. + +Westerfelt instinctively drew back behind the curtain, Harriet caught +his arm and clung to it. + +"Go to your room!" she whispered. "You'd better; you must not stay +here." He seemed not to hear; he leaned forward and peered again +through the window. The leader and Wambush had just reined their +horses in at the edge of the sidewalk. + +"Come on, Toot; whar you gwine?" asked the leader. + +"I want to take that feller with us; I'll never budge 'thout him, you +kin bet your bottom dollar on that." + +"He's bad hurt--'bout ter die; don't be a fool!" + +"Huh! Doc Lash sent me word he was safe. I didn't hurt 'im; but he +did me; he damaged my feelings, and I want to pay 'im fer it. Are you +fellers goin' back on me?" + +"Not this chicken," a voice muttered, and a white form whipped his +horse over to Wambush's. "I'm with you," said another. Then there was +a clamor of voices, and all the gang gathered round Wambush. He +chuckled and swore softly. "That's the stuff!" he said. "Them's +Cohutta men a-talkin'; you kin bet yore sweet life." + +Harriet turned to Westerfelt. "They are drinking," she said. "Haven't +you got a pistol?" + +"No." + +"You stay here then; don't let them see you; I'm going up-stairs and +speak to Toot from the veranda. It's the only chance. Sh!" + +She did not wait for a reply, but opened the door noiselessly and went +out into the hall. He heard the rustle of her skirts as she went up +the stairs. A moment later the door leading to the veranda on the +floor above opened with a creak, and she appeared over the heads of the +band. + +"Toot! Toot Wambush!" she called out in a clear, steady voice. "I +want to speak to you!" + +Wambush, in a spirit of bravado, had just ridden on to the veranda, and +could hear nothing above the thunderous clatter of his horse's hoofs on +the floor. + +"Here, thar, you jail-bird, yore wanted!" cried out the leader. "Stop +that infernal racket!" + +"What is it?" asked Wambush, riding back among his fellows. + +"Toot Wambush!" Harriet repeated. + +He looked up at her. "What do you want?" he asked, doggedly, after +gazing up at her steadily for a moment. + +"Get away as fast as you can," she replied. "His wound has broke +again. He's bleeding to death!" + +"Well, that's certainly good news!" Wambush did not move. + +"You'd better go," she urged. "It will be wilful murder. You made the +attack. He was unarmed, and you used a pistol and a knife. Do you +want to be hung?" + +He sat on his horse silent and motionless, his face upraised in the +full moonlight. There was no sound except the champing of bits, the +creaking of saddles. + +"Come on, Toot," urged the leader in a low tone. "You've settled yore +man's hash; what more do you want? We've got you out o' jail, now let +us put you whar you'll be safe from the law." + +Wambush had not taken his eyes from the girl. He now spoke as if his +words were meant for her only. + +"If I go," he said, "will you come? Will you follow me? You know I'm +not a-goin' to leave 'thout you, Harriet." + +It seemed to Westerfelt that she hesitated before speaking, and at that +moment a realization of what she had become to him and what she +doubtless was to Wambush came upon him with such stunning force that he +forgot even his peril in contemplating what seemed almost as bad as +death. + +"This is no time nor place to speak of such things," he heard the girl +say, finally. "Go this minute and save yourself while you can." + +"Hold on, Harriet!" Wambush cried out, as she was moving away. +Westerfelt could no longer see her, and then he heard her close the +door and start down-stairs. + +"Come on, Toot"--the leader whipped his horse up against that of +Wambush. + +Some of the others had already started away. + +Toot did not move. He was still looking at the spot where Harriet +Floyd had stood. + +"It simply means the halter, you blamed fool!" + +Wambush stared into the mask of the speaker, and then reluctantly rode +away. + + + + +Chapter VIII + +When Harriet returned she found Westerfelt lying face downward on the +floor. In his fall he had unconsciously clutched and torn down the +curtain, and like a shroud it lay over him. She was trying to raise +him, when the door opened and her mother appeared. + +"What's the matter, Harriet?" + +"He has fainted--I don't know, he may be dead. Look, mother!" + +Mrs. Floyd raised Westerfelt's head and turned his face upward. + +"No, he's still breathing." She opened his shirt hastily. "His wound +has not broken; we must get him to bed again. How did he happen to be +here?" + +"He got up as soon as the Whitecaps came; I couldn't persuade him to go +back." + +"We must carry him to the bed," said Mrs. Floyd. As they started to +raise him, Westerfelt opened his eyes, took a long breath, and sat up. +Without a word he rose to his feet, and between them was supported back +to his bed. + +"His feet are like ice," said Mrs. Floyd, as she tucked the blankets +round him. "Why did you let him stand there?" + +"It wasn't her fault, Mrs. Floyd," explained Westerfelt, with +chattering teeth. "I knew they meant trouble, and thought I ought to +be ready." + +"You ought to have stayed in bed." Her eyes followed Harriet to the +fireplace. "No, daughter," she said, "go lie down; I'll stay here." + +"I'd rather neither of you would sit up on my account," protested +Westerfelt; "I'm all right; I'll sleep like a log till breakfast. I +don't want to be such a bother." + +"You ain't a bit of trouble," replied Mrs. Floyd, in a tone that was +almost tender. "We are only glad to be able to help. When I saw that +cowardly scamp draw his pistol and knife on you, I could 'a' killed +him. I've often told Harriet--" + +"Mother, Mr. Westerfelt doesn't care to hear anything about him." +Harriet turned from the fire and abruptly left the room. Mrs. Floyd +did not finish what she had started to say. Westerfelt looked at her +questioningly and then closed his eyes. She went to the fireplace and +laid a stick of wood across the andirons, and then sat down and hooded +her head with a shawl. + +When Westerfelt awoke it was early dawn. The outlines of the room and +the different objects in it were indistinct. At the foot of his bed he +noticed something which resembled a heap of clothing on a chair. He +looked at it steadily, wondering if it could be part of the strange +dreams which had beset him in sleep. As the room gradually became +lighter, he saw that it was a woman. Mrs. Floyd, he thought--but no, +the figure was slighter. It was Harriet. She had taken her mother's +place just before daybreak. Her head hung down, but she was not +asleep. Presently she looked up, and catching his eyes, rose and came +to him. + +"How do you feel now?" She touched his forehead with her soft, cool +hand. + +"I'm all right; I'll be up to breakfast." + +"No, you won't; you must not; it would kill you." + +"Pshaw! That pin-scratch?" He playfully struck his breast near the +wound. "He'd have to cut deeper and rip wider to do me up." + +She stifled a cry and caught his hand. + +"You must not be so foolish." She started to turn away, but his +fingers closed over hers. + +"I'm sorry. I'll mind what you say, because you've been so good to me. +It seems mighty queer--Toot Wambush's girl takin' care of the very man +he tried to wipe off of the face of creation. No wonder he--" + +She twisted her hand from his clasp. "Why do you say _I'm his girl_?" + +"Because they all do, I reckon; ain't you? Last night I heard him ask +you to follow him." + +"You never heard me say I would, did you?" + +"No, but--" + +"Well, then!" She went to the fireplace. He could not see her, but +heard her stirring the fire with a poker, and wondered if her movement +was that of anger or agitation, For several minutes neither of them +spoke; then she came to him suddenly. + +"I forgot," she said; "here's a newspaper and a letter. Will Washburn +left them for you." She gave them to him and went to the window and +raised the shade, flooding the room with the soft yellowing light from +the east. Then she resumed her seat at the fire. + +He opened his letter. The handwriting was very crude, and he did not +remember having seen it before. Looking at the bottom of the last +page, he saw that it was signed by Sue Dawson--Sally Dawson's mother. +It was not dated, and began without heading of any kind. It ran thus: + + +"So you left this place fur new pastures. But I Will be sworn you went +off cause you could not see the sun ashinin on my Childs grave nor meet +her old broke down mother face to face. I have wanted to meet you ever +since she died, but I helt in. The reason I sent you word not to come +to the Funeral was cause I knowed ef I saw you thar I would jump right +up before the people and drag you with yore yaller Pumpkin face full of +gilt right up to her Box an make you look at yore work. It was not out +of respect fur yore feelings that I did not, nuther, fur I dont respect +you as much as I do a decent egg-suckin dog, but I was afraid folks +would suspicion the pore Child's secret, the secret that me an you an +nobody else knows, that she took her own life to git out of the misery +you put her in. She did not want them to know, an they shall not; +besides, thar are Folks in this cussed Settlement mean enough to +begrudge her the grave Lot she has becase of what she was driv to. + +"Thar is one thing I want you to stop. I dont want you to hire Peter +Slogan with Blood money, nur nobody else, to haul wood fur me. I +knowed you did send a load, fur he is too lazy to think of anybody but +hisself without thar was money in it. I accused him of it after I had +toted the last Stick back to yore land whar he got it. He tried to +deny it, but I saw the lie in his face an shamed it. Dont you bother +about me. I will live a powerful sight longer than you want me to +before I am through with You. You will never forgit how Sally died, ef +you did not look at her pore little face in death nur help the +neighbors fill her grave up. + +"John Westerfelt, you killed my Child as deliberately as ef you had +choked the life out of her with yore Bare hands. You hung after her +night and Day, even after she had been cautioned that you was fickle, +an then when you got her whole soul an hart you deliberately left her +an begun flyin around Liz Lithicum. I know yore sort. It is the +runnin after a thing that amuses you, an as soon as you get it you turn +agin it an spurn it under foot an laugh at it when it strugles in pain. +Lawsy me. God Almighty dont inflict good men with that Disease, but +you will have it nawin at yore Hart tel you run across some huzzy that +will rule you her way. Beware, John Westerfelt, you will want to marry +before long; you are a lonely, selfish Man, an you will want a wife an +childern to keep you company an make you forget yore evil ways, but it +is my constant prayer that you will never git one that loves you. I am +prayin for that very thing and I believe it will come. John +Westerfelt, I am yore Enemy--I am that ef it drags me into the Scorchin +flames of hell. + +"SUE DAWSON." + + +He refolded the letter, put it with quivering fingers back into its +envelope, and then opened the newspaper and held it before his eyes. +There was a clatter of dishes and pans in the back part of the house. +A negro woman was out in the wood-yard, picking up chips and singing a +low camp-meeting hymn. Now and then some one would tramp over the +resounding floor, through the hall to the dining-room. + +Harriet went to the door and closed it. Then she turned to him. The +paper had slipped from his fingers and lay across his breast. + +"What shall I get for your breakfast?" she asked. She moved round on +the other side of the bed, wondering if it was the yellow morning light +or his physical weakness that gave his face such a depressed, ghastly +look. + +"What did you say?" He stared at her absently. + +"What would you like for breakfast?" + +He looked towards his coat that hung on the foot of his bed. + +"Don't bother about me; I'm going to get up." + +"No, you must not." She caught his wrist. "Look how you are +quivering; you ought not to have tried to read." + +He raised the paper again, but it shook so that its rustling might have +been heard across the room. She took it from him, and laid it on a +chair by the bed. She looked away; the corners of his mouth were drawn +down piteously and his lips were twitching. + +"Please hand me my coat," he said. + +"You are not going to get up?" She sat down on the bed and put her +hand on his brow. Her face was soft and pleading. It held a +sweetness, a womanly strength he longed to lean upon. + +He caught her hand and held it nervously. + +"I don't believe I've got a single friend on earth," he said. "I don't +deserve any; I'm a bad man." + +"Don't talk that way," she replied. There was something in his +plaintive tone that seemed to touch her deeply, for she took his hand +in both of hers and pressed it. + +"I don't want to die, for your sake," he said, "for if I was to go +under, it would be awkward for your--your friend. He might really have +to swing for it." + +She released his hand suddenly, a pained look in her face. "Did you +want to put your letter in your coat pocket?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +She took the coat from a chair, gave it to him, and then went back to +the fireplace. He thrust his hand into the pocket and took out Sally +Dawson's last letter, and put it and her mother's into the same +envelope. As he was putting them away he found in the same pocket a +folded sheet of paper. He opened it. It was a letter from John +Wambush to his son Toot. Then Westerfelt remembered the paper Harriet +had picked up and given him in the street after the fight. Hardly +knowing why he did so, he read it. It was as follows: + + +"DEAR TOOT,--Me an yore mother is miserable about you. We have prayed +for yore reform day and night, but the Lord seems to have turned a deef +ear to our petitions. We hardly ever see you now an we are afraid you +are goin to git into serious trouble. We want you to give up +moonshinin, quit drinkin an settle down. We both think if you would +jest git you a good wife you would act better. I wish you would go an +marry that girl at the hotel--you know who I mean. I am as sorry for +her as I ever was for anybody, for she dont think you love her much. +She told me all about it the night the revenue men give you sech a +close shave. I was standin on the hotel porch when you driv the wagon +up with the whiskey barrel on it an I heerd them a-lopin along the road +after you. I thought it was all up with you for I knowed they could go +faster than you. Then I seed her run out on the back porch an help you +roll the whiskey in the kitchen an close the door. An when the +officers com up you was a-settin on the empty wagon talkin to her as if +nothin had happened. I heard all the lies she told em about seein +another wagon go whizzin down the road an I thought it was a great pity +for her to do it, but she was doin it for a man she loved an I wouldent +hold that agin her. A woman that loves as hard as she does would do a +sight wuss than that if it was necessary. After you loaded the whiskey +back on the wagon and got away to the woods, I went round an told her +what I had seed an she bust out cryin an throwed her arms round my neck +an said she loved you better than she did her own life an that she +never would love any other man as long as breeth was in her body. Son, +that night she come as nigh beggin me to git you to marry her as a +proud girl could, an when I left I promised her I would talk to you +about it. She's a good girl, Toot, and it would make a man of you to +marry her. I like her mighty well an so does yore mother. Please do +come out home soon. It looks like a pity for you to be away so much +when it worries yore ma like it does. + +"Yore affectionate father, + +"JOHN WAMBUSH." + + +Westerfelt folded the letter deliberately, and then in a sudden spasm +of jealous despair he crumpled it in his hand. He turned his head on +the side and pressed down his pillow that he might see Harriet as she +sat by the fire. The red firelight shone in her face. She looked +tired and troubled. + +"Poor girl!" he murmured. "Poor girl! Oh, God, have mercy on me! She +loves him--she loves him!" + +She looked up and caught his eyes. "Did you want anything?" she asked. + +He gave the letter to her. "Burn it, please. I wish I had not read +it." + +She took it to the fire. The light of the blazing paper flashed on the +walls, and then went out. + +He remained so silent that she thought he was sleeping, but when she +rose to leave the room she caught his glance, so full of dumb misery +that her heart sank. She went to her mother in the kitchen. Mrs. +Floyd was polishing a pile of knives and forks, and did not look up +until Harriet spoke. + +"Mother," she said, "I am afraid something has gone wrong with Mr. +Westerfelt." + +"What do you mean?" asked the old lady in alarm. + +"I don't know, but he got a letter this morning, and after he read it +he seemed changed and out of heart. He gave it to me to burn, and I +never saw such a desperate look on a human face. I know it was the +letter, because before he read it he was so--so different." + +"Well," said Mrs. Floyd, "it may be only some business matter that's +troubling him. Men have all sorts of things to worry about. As for +me, I've made a discovery, Harriet, at least I think I have." + +"Why, mother!" + +Mrs. Floyd put the knives and forks into the knife-box. + +"Hettie Fergusson was here just now," she said. + +"This early!" exclaimed Harriet, incredulously. "Why, mother, where +did she spend the night?" + +"At home; that's the curious part about it; she has walked all that +three miles since daylight, if she didn't get up before and start +through the dark. I never could understand that girl. All the time +she was working here she puzzled me. She was so absent-minded, and +would jump and scream almost when the door would open. I am glad we +didn't need her help any longer. Sometimes I wish she had never come +to the hotel." + +Harriet stared wonderingly at her mother; then she said: + +"Did she want to help us again?" + +Mrs. Floyd laughed significantly. + +"That's what she pretended she wanted, but she didn't have no more idea +of working here than I have of flying through the air at this minute. +Harriet, she is dead crazy in love with Toot Wambush. That is the +truth about it." + +"Why, mother, I can't believe it!" cried Harriet, her brow wrinkling in +perplexity. "He hardly ever went with her or talked to her." + +"He took her out home with him in a buggy six or seven times to my +knowledge," declared Mrs. Floyd, "and there's no telling how often he +saw her at home. He is awfully thick with her father. I never was +fooled in a woman; she is in love with him, and right now she is +worried to death about him. She couldn't hide her anxiety, and asked a +good many round-about questions about where he was gone to, and if we +knew whether the sheriff was hunting for him now, and if we thought Mr. +Westerfelt would prosecute him." + +Harriet laughed. "Well, I never dreamt there was a thing between those +two. When he asked her to go with him in his buggy out home, I thought +it was because she lived on the road to his father's, and that he just +did it to accommodate her, and--" + +"Oh, I've no doubt that is what _he_ did it for, darling, but she was +falling in love with him all the time, and now that he is in trouble, +she can't hide it. Do you know her conduct this morning has set me to +thinking? The night you and I spent over at Joe Long's I heard Wambush +came very near being arrested with a barrel of whiskey he was taking to +town, and that he managed to throw the officers off his track while he +was talking to Hettie in our back yard. Do you know it ain't a bit +unlikely that she helped him play that trick somehow? They say he was +laughing down at the store after that about how he gave them the slip. +I'll bet she helped him." + +"If she is in love with him she did, I reckon," returned Harriet, +wisely. "I wish he was in love with her. He is getting entirely too +troublesome." + +"He'll never care a snap for her as long as you are alive," retorted +the old lady. "I'm sorry now that I ever let you go with him so much. +He seems to be getting more and more determined to make you marry him +whether or no. He is jealous of Mr. Westerfelt." Mrs. Floyd lowered +her voice. "If he hadn't been, he wouldn't have fought him as he did. +That is at the bottom of it, daughter, and now that he is a regular +outlaw I am awfully uneasy. If I ever get a chance, I'm going to +convince him that it is useless for him to worry you as he does. I'd +rather see you in your grave than married to a man like that." + + + + +Chapter IX + +It was a week before John Westerfelt was strong enough to leave his +room in the hotel. Inflammation of his wound had set in, and at one +time his condition was thought to be quite critical. + +One day Luke Bradley came in his buggy to drive him out to his house. + +"Marthy won't heer to a refusal," he said. "She's powerful' troubled. +She 'lowed ef we'd 'a' made you stay with us you'd not 'a' been apt to +'a' met Wambush that day, an' 'a' been laid up like this. She's jest +dyin' to git to cook things fer you an' doctor you up." + +"I'll go and stay a day, anyway," promised Westerfelt. He glanced at +Harriet Floyd, who stood behind the curtains looking out of the window. +"I don't need any finer treatment than I've had, Luke. Miss Harriet's +been better than a sister to me. She saved my life the other night, +too. If she hadn't interfered that gang would have nabbed me as sure +as preaching, and I was unarmed and too weak to stand rough handling." + +Harriet came from the window. She took the roll of blankets that +Bradley had brought and held one of them before the fire. + +"It's chilly out to-day," she said. "You'd better wrap him up well, +Mr. Bradley." + +Bradley did not reply. He heard a noise outside, and went out hastily +to see if his horse was standing where he had left him. Westerfelt +dragged himself from his chair and stood in front of the fire. He had +grown thinner during his confinement, and his clothes hung loosely on +him. + +"You have been good to me," he repeated, in a low tone, "and I wish I +could do something to pay you back." She said nothing. She bent over +and felt the blanket to see if it were scorching, and then turned the +other side to the fire. + +"Mrs. Bradley is a fine nurse," she said, presently. "She'll take good +care of you. Besides, she has a better claim on you than we--mother +and I--have; she has known you longer." + +"I'll tell you the truth," he answered, after studying her face for a +moment in silence. "I'd really be willing to get hurt over again for +an excuse to live here like I have. I am the loneliest man that was +ever born--lonely is no name for it. In the dead hours of the night I +suffer agonies--you see, I am not a good sleeper. I have been as near +insanity as any man that ever lived out of an asylum. But I have been +mighty nearly free from all that since you began to nurse me. I wish +to God it could go on forever--forever, do you understand?--but it +can't--it can't. I have my troubles and you have yours--that is," he +added, quickly, as she shot a sudden glance of inquiry at him, "I +reckon you have troubles, most girls do." + +"Yes, I have my troubles, Mr. Westerfelt," she said, simply. +"Sometimes I think I cannot bear mine, but I do." + +He said nothing, but his eyes were upon her almost with a look of fear. +Was she about to tell him frankly of her love for Wambush? + +She rolled up one of the blankets and put it on the rug in front of the +fire, and held up another to be warmed. He thought he had never seen a +face so full of sweet, suffering tenderness. His heart bounded +suddenly with a thought so full of joy that he could hardly breathe. +She had driven the outlaw from her heart and already loved him; she had +learned to love him since he had been there. He could see it, feel it +in her every tender word and act, and he--God knew he loved her--loved +her with his whole wearied soul. Then the thought of her appeal to old +John Wambush and the lies she had told that night to save her lover +struck him like a blow in the face, and he felt himself turning cold +all over in the embrace of utter despair. "No, no, no!" he said, in +his heart, "she's not for me! I could never forget that--never! I've +always felt that the woman I loved must never have loved before, and +Wambush--ugh!" + +She raised her great eyes to his in the mellow firelight, and then, as +if puzzled by his expression, calmly studied his face. + +"You are not going back to that room over the stable, are you?" she +questioned. + +"Yes, to-morrow night." + +"Don't do it--it is not comfortable; it is awfully roomy and bare and +cold." + +"Oh, I am used to that. Many a time I've slept out in the open air on +a frosty night, with nothing round me but a blanket." + +"You could occupy this room whenever it suited you; it is seldom used. +I heard mother say yesterday that she wished you would." + +"I'd better stay there," he answered, moved again by her irresistible +solicitude, and that other thing in her tone to which he had laid claim +and hugged to his bruised heart. He felt an almost uncontrollable +desire to raise her in his arms, to unbosom his anguish to her, and +propose that they both fight their battles of forgetfulness side by +side, but he shrank from it. The thought of Wambush was again upon him +like some rasping soul-irritant. + +"No, no; I'm going back to the stable," he said, fiercely. "I will not +stay here any longer--not a day longer!" + +He saw her start, and then she put down the blanket and stood up. "I +do not understand you at all, sometimes" she faltered, "not at all." + +"But I understand you, God knows," he returned, bitterly. "Harriet, +little, suffering, wronged woman, I know something about you. I know +what has been worrying you so much since I came here." + +She started and an awful look crept into her face. + +"Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, do you?" + +"Yes, I know it--that's enough now; let's agree never again to speak of +it. I don't want to talk about it, and I reckon you don't. Anyway, it +can't be helped." + +"No, it can't be helped." Her lips began to twitch and quiver, and her +eyes went down. + +"I understand it all now," she added. "And I don't blame you. I told +mother yesterday that I thought you might suspect--" + +"Your mother knows then?" + +"Yes, of course," raising her eyes in surprise. + +For a moment they were silent. Westerfelt leaned against the +mantel-piece; he had never felt such utter despair. It was like being +slowly tortured to death to hear her speaking so frankly of the thing +which he had never been able to contemplate with calmness. + +"So you see now that I'd better go back to the stable, don't you?" he +asked, gloomily. + +"I suppose so," she said. "I suppose you mean that--" but she was +unable to formulate what lay in her confused mind. Besides, Luke +Bradley was coming in. They heard his heavy tread on the veranda. + +"Well, come on, John, ef you are ready," he called out. "That blamed +nag o' mine won't stand still a minute." + +When Westerfelt had been driven away, and Harriet had watched him out +of sight down the road, she came back to the fire and sat down in the +chair Westerfelt had used during his convalescence. She kept her eyes +fixed on the coals till her mother entered the room. + +"I reckon he thought funny that I didn't come in to tell him good-bye," +she said, with a knowing little laugh; "but I'll be bound he was glad I +didn't. Even Mr. Bradley had the good sense to go outside." + +"Mother, what are you talking about?" + +"You know mighty well what I mean," returned Mrs. Floyd, with a smile. +"I know Mr. Westerfelt is dead in love with you, and goodness knows you +couldn't fool me about how you feel if you tried. I was a girl once." + +"Mother," said Harriet, "I never want you to mention him to me again," +and she put her hands over her face and began to cry softly. + +"Why, what is the matter, dear?" the old woman sat down near her +daughter, now alarmed by her conduct. Harriet stared her mother in the +face. "He knows all about it, mother--he knows I am not your child, +that nobody knows where I came from. Oh, mother, I can't stand it--I +simply cannot. I wanted him to know, and yet when he told me he knew, +it nearly killed me." + +Mrs. Floyd turned pale. "There must be some mistake," she said; "no +one here knows it--and only one or two up in Tennessee." + +"There is no mistake," sighed the girl. "He told me the other day that +he had relatives in Tennessee. Oh, mother, more people know it than +you think. I have always felt that they knew. So many have noticed +that you and I do not look alike." + +Mrs. Floyd's eyes were moist and her face was wrung with sympathy. She +put her arms around the girl and drew her to her breast. "I ought +never to have told you," she said; "but the lawyers knew it, and when +your papa's estate was wound up it had to be told to a few. I thought +you would soon forget it, but you have never stopped thinking about it. +You are entirely too sensitive, too--" + +"Mother, you don't know anything about it," said Harriet. "When you +told me I was not your child I actually prayed to die. It has been the +only real trouble I ever had. I never see poor, worthless people +without thinking that I may be closely related to them, and since Mr. +Westerfelt has been here and told me about his aristocratic relatives +and his old family, I have been more unhappy than ever. I was going to +tell him some day, but he saved me the trouble." + +"I can't imagine how he knew it," gave in Mrs. Floyd, thoughtfully. +"Perhaps he has had some dealings with our lawyers, though they +promised not to speak of it. I thought when we moved down here among +strangers you'd quit troubling about that. You know you are as good as +anybody else, so what is the good of worrying? You make me very +unhappy, Harriet. I feel almost as if I did wrong to bring you up. +But you know I love you just the same as if you was my own child, don't +you?" + +"Yes, and I love you as if you were my own mother. I love you more, +too, when I am in trouble, though I reckon I don't show it; but, +mother, I am dying to know something about my own flesh and blood. I'd +rather know that my blood was good than have all the wealth of the +earth. You have let enough out to show me that I must have had very, +very poor parents." + +"I simply said that when they left you at my house you had on rather +cheap clothing, but you know that was just after the war, when nobody +could dress their children much." + +"But they deserted me," said Harriet; "they could not have been very +honorable. I reckon Mr. Westerfelt knows all about it." + +"Well, he won't think any the less of you if he does," said Mrs. Floyd. +"He looks like a born gentleman to me. You will never see a man like +him turning against a girl for something she can't help. You ought not +to say your parents were not honorable; they may have left you, +thinking it would be best for you. We were considered pretty well off +then." + +Harriet made no reply for several minutes, and then she said: + +"I think Mr. Westerfelt is the best man I ever knew, but he must be +like his father some, and he told me that his father, who was a captain +in the army, refused to ever see his daughter again who married the son +of his overseer. She moved to Texas, and died out there. Mother, the +legitimate daughter of an overseer would stand higher in any Southern +community than--" At this point a sob broke in her voice, and the girl +could go no further. Mrs. Floyd rose and kissed her on the cheek. "I +see," she said, "that as long as you keep talking about this you will +search and search for something to worry about. I'm glad Mr. +Westerfelt knows about it, though, for he would have to be told some +day, and now he knows what to count on. I'll bet you anything he keeps +on loving you, and--" + +"Oh, mother," broke in Harriet, "I don't think he lo--cares that much +for me; I really do not." + + + + +Chapter X + +"By George!" exclaimed Bradley, as they drove away, "you certainly lit +on your feet when you struck that house. It looks like it 'ud pay you +to git stabbed every day in the week; it's paid the community, the Lord +knows, fer it is shet of the biggest dare-devil that wus ever in it. +The ol' lady seems to have about as bad a case on you as the gal. I've +been thar a time or two to ax about you, an' I never seed the like o' +stirrin' round fixin' things they 'lowed would suit yore taste." + +"They have been mighty good to me, indeed," answered the young man, +simply. "I don't think I could have had such thoughtful attention, +even at home." + +"I don't like fer anything to puzzle me," said Luke, with a little +laugh, "an' I'll swear Miss Harriet's a riddle. I would a-swore on the +stand a week ago that she wus as big a fool about Wambush as a woman +kin git to be, but now--well, I reckon she's jest like the rest. Let +the feller they keer fer git a black eye an' have bad luck, an' they'll +sidle up to the fust good-lookin' cuss they come across. A man that +reads novels to git his marryin' knowledge frum is in pore business; +besides the book hain't writ that could explain a woman unless it is +the Great Book, an' it wouldn't fit no woman o' this day an' time." + +"You think, then, Luke," said Westerfelt, "that a good woman--a real +good woman--could love twice in--in a short space of time?" + +"Gewhillikins! What a question; they kin love a hundred times before +you kin say Jack Robinson with yore mouth open. When you git married, +John, you must make up your mind that yo're marryin' fer some'n else +besides dern foolishness. The Bible says the prime intention of the +business wus to increase an' multiply; ef you an' yore wife ever git to +multiplyin', you an' her won't find much time to suck thumbs an' talk +love an' pick flowers an' press 'em in books an' the like. Folks may +say what they damn please about women lovin' the most; it's the feller +mighty nigh ever' whack that acts the fool. I was plumb crazy about +Marthy, an' used to be afeerd she wus so fur gone on me that she +wouldn't take a sufficient supply o' victuals to keep up 'er strength. +That wus when I was courtin' of 'er an' losin' sleep, an' one thing or +other. After we wus married, though, me an' 'er mother come to words +one day about a shoat pig she claimed had her mark on its yeer an' was +penned up with mine, an' she up an' told me out o' spite that the very +night before me 'n' Marthy got married, Ward Billingsley wus thar at +the house tryin' to get 'er to run off with him, an' that Marthy come +as nigh as pease a-doin' of it. Her maw said she'd a-gone as shore as +preachin' ef she'd a-had a dress fitten to take the trip on the train +in. I reckon it wus every word the truth, fer to this day Marthy won't +deny it; but it don't make a bit of difference to me now. Marthy would +a-done as well by Ward as she did by me, I reckon. When women once git +married they come down to hard-pan like a kickin' mule when it gits +broke to traces." + +Westerfelt drew the blankets closer about him. The road had taken a +sharp turn round the side of a little hill, and the breeze from the +wide reach of level valley lands was keen and piercing. Bradley's +volubility jarred on him. It brought an obnoxious person back, and +roughly, into the warm memory of Harriet Floyd's presence, and gentle, +selfless tenderness. He ground his teeth in agony. He had just been +debating in his mind the possibility of his being, in consideration of +his own mistakes, able to take the girl, in her new love, into his +heart and hold her there forever, but if she loved Wambush, as, of +course, she once did, might she not later love some other man--or might +she not even think--remember--Wambush? + +"Great God!" He uttered the words aloud, and Bradley turned upon him +in surprise. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," said Westerfelt; "my wound twinged just a little, that is +all." + +"I was driving too fast over these rocks anyway," said Bradley, +solicitously. + +The horse stopped at a clear mountain stream that leaped in a +succession of waterfalls down the sheer hill-side into the valley. +Bradley got out to loosen the bridle to allow the animal to drink, and +stood with one foot on the shore and the other on a brown stone in the +water. Try as he would, Westerfelt could not banish Harriet from his +mind. Her sweet personality seemed to be trying to defend itself +against the unworthy thoughts which fought for supremacy in his mind. +He thought of her wonderful care of him in his illness; her unfailing +tenderness and sympathy when he was suffering; her tears--yes, he was +sure he had detected tears in her eyes one day when the doctor was +giving him unusual pain in dressing his wound. Ah, how sweet that was +to remember! and yet the same creature had loved a man no higher than +Wambush; had even sobbed out a confession of her love in the arms of +his father. Such was the woman, but he loved her with the first real +love of his life. + +The next day but one, Westerfelt, feeling sufficiently strong, was +driven by Washburn down to the livery-stable, where he sat in the warm +sunshine against the side of the house. While sitting there watching +the roads which led down to the village from the mountains, he was +surprised to see Peter Slogan ride up on his bony bay horse and alight. + +"Howdy' do, John?" he said. "I wus jest passin' on my way home an' +thought I'd halt an' ax about that cut o' yore'n." + +"Oh, I'm doing pretty well, Peter," answered Westerfelt, as he extended +his hand without rising. "But I didn't know that you ever got this far +from home." + +"Hain't once before, since I went to fight the Yanks," grinned Slogan. +"Seems to me I've rid four hundred an' forty-two miles on that +churndasher thar. My legs is one solid sore streak from my heels up, +an' now it's beginnin' to attact my spine-bone. I'm too ol' an' stiff +to bear down right in the stirrups, I reckon." + +"What has brought you over here?" asked Westerfelt, with a smile. + +Slogan took out his clay pipe with its cane stem and knocked it on the +heel of his boot, then he put it into his mouth and blew through it +till the liquid nicotine cracked audibly. "I've been huntin'," he +said, dryly. "In my day an' time I've been on all sorts o' hunts, from +bear an' deer down to yaller-hammers, but I waited till I wus in my +sixty-fifth year--goin' on sixty-six--'fore I started out huntin' fer a +dad-blasted woman." + +"A woman!" exclaimed the listener. + +"You could guess who it wus ef you'd make a stab ur two at it," Slogan +made answer, as he scratched a match and began to smoke. "Day before +yesterday Clariss' went out in the yard to rake up a apron o' chips, +an' happened to take notice that thar wusn't a sign o' smoke comin' out +o' the old woman's chimney. It was cold enough to freeze hard boiled +eggs, an' she 'lowed some'n had gone wrong down at the cabin, so she +run in whar I wus, skeerd into kinniptions. 'Mr. Slogan,' sez she, 'I +believe sister's friz in 'er bed, ur dropped off sudden, fer as shore +as yore a-smokin' in that cheer, thar ain't a speck o' fire in 'er +chimney.' Well, I wus in my stockin' feet, like I ginerally am when I +want to take it easy before a fire on a cold day, an' I slid my feet +into my shoes as quick as I could an' went out an' took a look. Shore +enough, thar wusn't a bit o' smoke about the cabin. So I tol' Clariss' +to run down an' see what wus wrong, but she wouldn't budge out o' her +tracks. You see, she ain't never felt right about the way she used to +do the old woman, an' I reckon she wus afeerd her dead body would do a +sight more accusin'--I dunno, she wouldn't go a step fer some reason ur +other, but she stood thar twistin' 'er hands an' cryin' an' beggin' me +to do her duty. I tol' 'er the last time I wus thar the ol' huzzy +wouldn't so much as notice me, an' that I'd had 'nough trouble lookin' +atter my own pore kin without galivantin' about atter my kin by a' +unfortunate marriage, but nothin' would do 'er but fer me to go, so I +did, an' found the old woman had run clean off. Well, when I told +Clariss' that, she mighty nigh had a fit. She swore she had driv her +sister desperate by her conduct in the past an' that 'er body would be +found as stiff as a bar o' iron in the woods some'rs whar she wus +tryin' to keep warm. So the long an' short of it wus that me 'n' my +hoss had to start out." + +"And you have found her?" asked the young man, now thoroughly concerned. + +"You bet I did, after scourin' the entire face of creation. I traced +'er frum one old acquaintance to another, till last night I run up on +'er over at Bill Wyman's, ten miles down the valley. It was ten +o'clock when I got thar, an' as cold as a cake o' ice in the small o' +yore back. I called Bill out in his shift on the porch. I was mighty +nigh friz, an' I reckon he soon got that away, fer he kept dancin' +about fust on one foot an' then on another, while we talked. He +admitted she wus thar, but he wouldn't let me stay all night, although +I offered to plank down the usual price fer man an' beast. She'd been +talkin' to him, I could see that, fer he up an' said some'n about folks +bein' churched in his settlement fer the mistreatment o' widows, but +he'd admit, he said, that he wusn't posted on the manners an' customs +uv all the places over beyant the mount'in; he reckoned the nigher +people got to the railroad the furder they wus from the cross. I tried +to reason with 'im, but he said ef I wanted to argue my case, I'd +better come round in the summer. + +"Thar wusn't any other house nigher'n six miles, an' so I made me a +fire in a little cove by the road, an' set over it an' thought, mostly +about women, all night. I've heerd preachers say a man oughtn't to +think too much about women anyway, but I reckon I backslid last night, +fer I thought hard about mighty nigh ever' woman I ever seed or heerd +of." + +"How has Mrs. Dawson been getting on since I left?" ventured Westerfelt. + +"Just about as bad as she knowed how, I reckon, John. After you left, +she seemed to take 'er spite out on Lizzie Lithicum. Liz never could +pass anywhar nigh 'er without havin' the old cat laugh out loud at 'er. +Liz has been goin' with that cock-eyed Joe Webb a good deal--you know +he's jest about the porest ketch anywhars about, an' that seemed to +tickle Mis' Dawson mightily. I reckon somebody told 'er some'n Liz +said away back when you fust started to fly around 'er. I axed Clem +Dill ef he knowed anything about it, an' Clem 'lowed Liz had kind o' +made fun o' Sally about you gittin' tired uv 'er, an' one thing ur +other. I dunno; I cayn't keep up with sech things. I jest try to find +'em out once in awhile because Clariss' is sech a hand to want to know. +When she gits to rantin' about anythin' I've done--ur hain't done--all +I got to do to shet 'er up is to start to tell 'er some'n somebody's +has said about somebody else, an' she gits 'er cheer. So I try to keep +a stock o' things on hand. Clem Dill's afeerd o' Mis' Dawson now. I +was in the store one day about a week ago, an' she come in to swap a +pair o' wool socks she had knit fer coffee, an' Clem 'lowed, jest to +pass the time, while he wus at the scales, he'd ax 'er what ailed her +an' Lizzie, anyway. But I reckon Clem has quit axin' fool questions, +fer she turned on 'im like a tiger-cat. Sez she: + +"'Liz Lithicum dared to say my child made a fool o' herse'f about John +Westerfelt. That's exactly what Liz an' other folks sez about yore +wife. I don't see what right you have to ax me sech a question.' +Well, sir, Clem was so much set back 'at he couldn't hardly speak, an' +he spilled a scoop o' coffee on the counter 'fore he could get it into +the old woman's poke. After she had gone out, laughin' in her sneakin' +way, Clem come back whar I wus at by the stove an' set down an' spit +about two dozen times. Arter 'while he axed me ef I'd ever heerd the +talk about his wife, an' I eased him all I could, but, lawsy me, you +ort ter see 'im hop up an' bow an' scrape when old Sue comes in the +store now. Clem ain't a jealous man--I reckon he's been married too +long for that. In my courtin' days I used to be jealous actually of +Clariss's own daddy, but now I make a habit o' invitin' the preacher to +our house every third Sunday so I kin git a decent meal an' set an' +smoke in the kitchen. John, you don't seem to be any nigher marryin' +now than you wus awhile back." + +Westerfelt smiled, but made no reply. + +"Well, you'd better keep on a-thinkin' it over," counselled Slogan, as +he took the saddle and blanket from his horse and examined a rubbed +spot on the animal's back; "thar's a heap more fun marryin' in a body's +mind than before a preacher; the law don't allow a feller but one sort +of a wife, but a single man kin live alone, an' fancy he's got any kind +he wants, an' then she won't be eternally a-yellin' to 'im to fetch in +fire-wood. A young feller kin make a woman a sight more perfect than +the Creator ever did, an' He's had a sight o' practice. I reckon the +Lord made 'em like they are to keep men humble and contrite an' to show +up to advantage His best work on t'other shore. But so long, John, I +must be goin'." + + + + +Chapter XI + +It was a dark night two weeks later. Westerfelt, quite recovered from +his illness, was returning from a long ride through the mountains, +where he had been in search of a horse that had strayed from the stable. + +The road along the mountain-side was narrow and difficult to follow. +At times he was obliged to ascend places so steep that he had to hold +to the mane of his horse to keep from falling off. + +At the foot of a mountain about two miles from Cartwright, he heard +voices ahead of him. He stopped, peered through the foliage, and, a +few paces farther on, saw a wagon containing a couple of barrels. Near +it stood two men in slouched hats and jeans clothing. + +"Thought shore I heerd some'n," said one of them. + +"Which away?" asked the other. + +"Sounded to me like a hoss up on the mount'in." + +There was a silence for a moment, then the first voice said: + +"No, not that away. Listen! It's somebody comin' up the road on foot. +I reckon it's a friend, but I don't take no resks." + +The two men stepped quickly to the wagon and took out a couple of +rifles. Then they stood motionless behind the wagon and horse. +Westerfelt heard the regular step of some one coming up the road. + +"Hello thar!" cried one of the men at the wagon. + +"Hello!" was the answer. + +"Stand in yore tracks! What's the password?" + +"Joe Dill's good 'nough pass-word fer me; I don't try to keep up with +all the pop-doodle you fellers git up." + +"Joe Dill will do in this case, bein' as yore a good liquor customer. +What'll you have, Joseph?" + +"A gallon o' mash--this jug jest holds that amount up to the neck. +Gi'me a swallow in a cup, I'm as dry as powder. What do you-uns mean +by bein' in the business ef you cayn't send out a load oftener'n this? +I'll start to 'stillin' myse'f. I know how the dang truck's made; +nothin' but corn-meal an' water left standin' till it rots, an'--" + +"Revenue men's as thick through heer as flies in summer-time," broke in +the man at the faucet. "Sh! what's that?" + +Westerfelt's horse had stepped on a dry twig. There was silence for a +moment, then Dill laughed softly. + +"Nothin' but a acorn drappin'. You fellers is afeerd o' yore shadders; +what does the gang mean by sendin' out sech white-livered chaps?" The +only sound for a moment was the gurgling of the whiskey as it ran into +the jug. "How's Toot like his isolation?" concluded Dill, grunting as +he lifted the jug down from the wagon. + +"It's made a wuss devil 'n ever out'n 'im," was the answer. "He don't +do a blessed thing now but plot an' plan fer revenge. He's beginnin' +to think that hotel gal's gone back on 'im an' tuk to likin' the feller +he fit that day. My Lord, that man'll see the day he'll wish he'd +never laid eyes on Wambush." + +"I hain't in entire sympathy with Toot." It was Dill's voice. "That +is to say, not entire!" + +"Well, don't say so, ef you know what's good fer you." + +"Oh, it's a free country, I reckon." + +"Don't you believe it!" + +"What's Toot gwine to do?" + +"I don't know, but he'll hatch out some'n." + +Westerfelt's horse had been standing on the side of a little slope, and +the soft earth suddenly gave way beneath his hind feet, and in +regaining a firm footing he made a considerable noise. There was +nothing now for Westerfelt to do but to put a bold face on the matter. + +"Get up," he said, guiding his horse down towards the men. + +"Halt!" commanded one of the moonshiners. All three of them were now +huddled behind the wagon. + +"Hello!" answered Westerfelt, drawing rein; "I'm lookin' for an iron +gray, flea-bitten horse that strayed away from the livery-stable this +morning; have you fellows seen anything of him?" + +"No, I hain't." This in a dogged tone from a slouched hat just above a +whiskey barrel. + +There was a pause. + +"I don't think anybody could have taken him," continued Westerfelt, +pleasantly. + +"Hain't seed 'im." The speaker struck the wagon-bed with his rifle as +he was trying to put it down behind the barrels without being seen. + +"The left hand road leads to town, I believe?" said Westerfelt, riding +away. + +"Yes, but take the right at the next fork." + +About half a mile farther on he saw two horsemen, approaching. When +quite near they stopped. + +"Howdy' do?" said one, eying Westerfelt suspiciously. + +"How are you?" answered Westerfelt. + +"We are revenue men; we're after a couple o' men and a wagon loaded +with whiskey. Seen anything of them?" + +Westerfelt was silent. The revenue officer who had spoken rested his +elbow on his thigh and leaned towards him. + +"Looky' here," he said, deliberately; "we don't know one another, but +there may be no harm in tellin' you if you try to throw us off the +track you lay yoreself liable to complicity. We've had about as much +o' that sort o' treatment round heer as we are going to put up with." + +"I'm not on the witness-stand," said Westerfelt, pleasantly; "I'm only +looking for a stray horse." + +"Let's go on," said the other Officer to his companion. "We are on the +right road; he's seed 'em ur he'd a-denied it. Let's not lose time." + +"I'm with you," was the reply; then to Westerfelt: "You are right, you +hain't on the witness-stand, but ef we wanted to we could mighty easy +arrest you on suspicion and march you back to jail to be questioned by +the inspectors." + +Westerfelt smiled, "You'd have to feed me at the expense of the +government, and I'm as hungry as a bear; I've been out all day, and +haven't had a bite since breakfast." + +The revenue men laughed. "We know who you are," said the one that had +spoken first, "an' we know our business, too; so long!" + +Two hours later, as Westerfelt was about to go to bed in his room over +the stable, he heard a voice calling down-stairs. He went to the +window and looked out. Below he saw four men, two saddle horses, and a +horse and wagon. He heard Washburn open the office door and ask: + +"What do you folks want?" + +"Want to put up our beasts an' this hoss an' wagon," was the reply. +"We've got some gentlemen heer we're gwine to jail till mornin'." + +"All right. I'll slide open the doors as soon as I git my shoes on. I +wus in bed." + +"We'll have to leave these barrels o' rotgut with you." + +"All right. Plenty o' room." Westerfelt came down-stairs just as +Washburn opened the big doors. + +"Hello!" said the revenue officer who had addressed him on the +mountain; "you see we made quick time; we found 'em right whar you left +'em." + +"I see." + +Washburn, who was under the skirt of a saddle unbuckling a girth, +glanced at Westerfelt in surprise as he lifted the saddle from the +horse and carried it into the stable. The two moonshiners exchanged +quick glances and sullenly muttered something to each other. +Westerfelt, intent on getting the business over that he might go to +bed, failed to observe these proceedings. When the officers had taken +their prisoners on towards the jail, Washburn, who, with a lantern, was +putting the horses into stalls, turned to Westerfelt. + +"My Lord! Mr. Westerfelt," he said, "I hope you didn't give them +fellers away." + +"Never dreamt of such a thing. What do you mean?" + +"I 'lowed you had by what that feller said just now." + +"What did he say?" + +"Why, he said they'd ketched the men right whar you left 'em, an'--" + +"Well, what of that?" Westerfelt spoke impatiently. "I did pass the +whiskey wagon. The revenue men asked me if I'd seen them, and I simply +refused to answer. They didn't get anything out of me." + +"That's just what I'd 'a' done, but I wish you'd 'a' set yorese'f right +jest now, fer them fellers certainly think you give 'em away, an' +they'll tell the gang about it." + +"Well, I didn't, so what does it matter?" + +Washburn took out the bowl of his lantern and extinguished the light as +they entered the office. + +"It makes a man mighty unpopular in the Cohutta Valley to interfere +with the moonshiners," he answered. "Whiskey-makin' is agin the law, +but many a family gits its livin' out o' the stuff, an' a few good +citizens keep the'r eyes shet to it. You see, Mr. Westerfelt, the gang +may be a little down on you anyway sence your difficulty with Wambush. +Did you know that he wus a sort of a ring-leader amongst 'em?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, you mark my word, that feller'd swear his chances of heaven away +to turn them mount'in men agin you." + +"Most of them are good-hearted fellows" replied Westerfelt. "They +won't harm me." + +Washburn sat down on his bed, pulled off his shoes, and dropped them on +the puncheon floor. + +"But he's got the'r ear, an' you hain't, Mr. Westerfelt. He'd grab at +a chance like this an' you'd never be able to disprove anything. +Toot's got some unprincipled friends that 'ud go any length to help him +in rascality." + +The next morning before the revenue men had left with their prisoners +and the confiscated whiskey for the town where the trial before an +inspector was to take place, a number of mountaineers had gathered in +the village. They stood about the streets in mysterious groups and +spoke in undertones, and now and then a man would go to the jail window +and confer with the prisoners through the bars. Several men had been +summoned to attend the trial as witnesses, and others went out of +curiosity or friendship for the accused. + +That evening, as John Westerfelt was passing through the hall of the +hotel to the dining-room, he met Harriet Floyd. She started when she +saw him, and he thought she acted as if she wanted to speak to him, but +just then some other boarders entered, and she turned from him +abruptly. She sat opposite him at the table a few moments later, but +she did not look in his direction. + +On his return to the stable after supper, Washburn gave him a letter. +He recognized Sue Dawson's handwriting on the envelope. + +"Is it a order?" asked Washburn, thinking it concerned the business. + +"No, no; from a--a friend." Westerfelt lighted a candle at the wick of +Washburn's lantern and went up to his room. He put the candle on a +little table and sat down by it. + +"I'll never read another line from that woman," he said. "I can't. +She'll run me crazy! I've suffered enough." + +He threw the letter unopened on the table, and clasped his hands over +his knee and sat motionless for several minutes. Then he picked up the +letter and held one corner of it in the candle-flame. It ignited, and +the blue blaze began to spread over the envelope. Suddenly he blew it +out and tore the letter open. The margin of the paper was charred, but +the contents were intact. It ran: + + +"JOHN WESTERFELT,--I heard you Come Nigh meeting yore Death. The Lord +let you live to make you Suffer. The worst pain is not in the body But +in the Soul. You will likely live a long time and never git over yore +guilty suffering. The Report has gone out that some gal over thar tuk +care of you while you wus down in Bed. Well, it would be jest like you +to try yore skill on her. God Help her. I dont know her, nor nothin +about her, but she ort ter be warned. Ef she loved you with all Her +soul you would pick a Flaw somehow. Mark my words. You will live to +See Awful Shapes when nobody else does. Yore Hell Has begun. It will +Go on for everlastin and everlastin. + +"SUE DAWSON." + + +He put the letter into his pocket and went to the window and drew down +the shade. Then he locked the door and placed the candle on the +mantel-piece and stood an open book before it, so that his bed was in +the shadow. He listened to hear if Washburn was moving below, then +knelt by the bed and covered his face with his hands. He tried to +pray, but could think of no words to express his desires. He had never +been so sorely tried. Even if he could school himself to forgetting +Harriet's old love and the act of deceitfulness into which her love had +drawn her, could he ever escape Mrs. Dawson's persecutions? Would she +not, even if he won and married Harriet, pursue and taunt him with the +girl's old love, as she had Clem Dill? And how could he stand +that--he, whose ideal of woman and woman's constancy had always been so +high? + +He rose, sat on the edge of the bed, and clasped his hands between his +knees. The room was in darkness except the spot of light on the wall +behind the book. Below he heard the horses crunching their corn and +hay. He took from his pocket Sue Dawson's letters and the one from +Sally and wrapped them in a piece of paper. Then he looked about for a +place to hide them. In a corner overhead he saw a jutting rafter, and +behind it a dark niche where the shingles sloped to the wall. It was +too high for him to reach from the floor, so he placed the table +beneath the spot, and, mounting it, pushed the packet tightly into the +corner. Then he stepped down and removed the table, cautiously, that +Washburn might not hear him, and sat on the bed again. He remained +there motionless for twenty minutes. Suddenly a rat ran across the +floor with a scrap of paper in its mouth. He stared at the place where +the rat had disappeared as if bewildered, then rose, placed the table +back against the wall, secured the packet, and put it into his pocket. + + + + +Chapter XII + +Westerfelt knew he could not sleep, and, seeing the moonlight shining +through his window, he decided to take a walk. He went below. +Washburn sat in a little circle of candle-light mending a piece of +harness. + +"Has the hack come in yet?" asked Westerfelt, remembering that he had +paid little attention to business that day. + +"Yes," answered Washburn; "it's down at the store unloadin' the mail." + +"I thought I heard it turn the corner. Any passengers?" + +"No; Buck said a family, one woman and five children, wus ready to +start by the Cohutta road to Royleston, but the report about the +Whitecaps t'other night skeerd 'em out of it, so they went by train to +Wilks, an' through that way. This outlawin' will ruin the country ef +it hain't stopped; nobody'll want to settle heer." + +"I'll be back soon," said Westerfelt, and he went out. + +The November air was dry and keen as he walked briskly towards the +mountains. The road ran through groves of stunted persimmon and +sassafras bushes, across swift-bounding mountain streams, and under +natural arbors of wild grapes and muscadine vines. In a few minutes +Westerfelt reached the meeting-house on a little rise near the roadside. + +It had never been painted, but age and the weather had given it the +usual grayish color. Behind it, enclosed by a rail fence, was the +graveyard. The mounds had sunk, the stones leaned earthward, and the +decaying trellises had been pulled down by the vines which clambered +over them. + +It was a strange thing for Westerfelt to do, but, seeing the door open, +he went into the church. Two windows on each side let in the +moonlight. The benches were unpainted, and many of them had no backs. + +Westerfelt stood before the little pulpit for a moment and then turned +away. Outside, the road gleamed in the moonlight as it stretched on to +the village. A glimpse of the graveyard through the window made him +shudder. It reminded him of a grave he had never seen save in his +mind. It was past midnight. He would go back to his bed, though he +felt no inclination to sleep. + +As he approached the stable, walking in the shadow of the trees on the +side of the street, he saw a woman come out of the blacksmith's shop +opposite the stable. For a moment she paused, her face raised towards +the window of his room, and then retreated into the shop. + +It was Harriet Floyd. He stepped behind a tree and watched the door of +the shop. In a moment she reappeared and looked up towards his window +again. He thought she might be waiting to see him, so he moved out +into the moonlight and advanced towards her. + +"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed, excitedly. "I've been waiting to see +you. I--I must tell you something, but it won't do to stand here; +somebody will see us. Can't we?--come in the shop a minute." + +Without speaking, and full of wonder, he followed her into the dark +building. She led him past piles of old iron, wagon-tires, +ploughshares, tubs of black water, anvils, and sledges to the forge and +bellows at the back of the shop. She waited for a moment for him to +speak, but he only looked at her questioningly, having almost steeled +his heart against her. + +"I come to warn you," she began, awkwardly, her eyes raised to his. +"Toot Wambush has prejudiced the Whitecaps against you. He has +convinced them that you reported the moonshiners. They are coming +to-night to take you out. The others don't mean to kill you; they say +it's just to whip you, and tar and feather you, and drive you out of +the place, but he--Toot Wambush--will kill you if he can. He would not +let you get away alive. He has promised the others not to use +violence, but he will; he hates you, and he wants revenge. He'll do it +and make the others share the responsibility with him--that's his plan." + +He put his hand on the bellows-pole; the great leather bag rattled and +gasped, and a puff of ashes rose from the forge. + +"How do you happen to know this?" he asked, coldly. She shrank from +him, and stared at him in silence. + +"How do you know it?" he repeated, his tone growing fierce. + +She drew the shawl with which she had covered her head more closely +about her shoulders. + +"Toot hinted at it himself," she said, slowly. + +"When?" + +"About an hour ago." + +"You met him?" + +"Yes." + +"Are you a member of his gang?" + +"Mr. Westerfelt," shrinking from him, "do--do you mean to insult me?" + +"Would he have told you if he had thought you would give him away?" + +"I reckon not--why, no." + +"Then he considers you in sympathy with his murderous plans." + +"I don't know, but I want you to keep out of his way. You must--oh, +Mr. Westerfelt, you must go! Don't stand here; they are coming down +the Hawkbill road directly. You could ride off towards Dartsmouth and +easily get away, if you will hurry." + +"I see," he answered, with a steady stare of condemnation; "you want to +keep him from committing another crime--a more serious one." + +She looked at him an instant as if puzzled, and then said: + +"I want to keep him from killing you." + +"Do you think he would take advantage of a helpless man?" + +"I know it, Mr. Westerfelt; oh, I know he would!" + +"Then you acknowledge he is a coward, and yet you--my God, what sort of +a creature _are_ you?" + +She continued to stare at him wonderingly, as if half afraid. She +moved suddenly into a moonbeam that streamed through a broken shingle +in the roof. Her face was like white marble. In its terrified lines +and angles he read nothing but the imprint of past weakness where he +should have seen only pleading purity--the purity of a child cowed and +awed by the object of a love so powerful, so self-sacrificing that she +made no attempt to understand it. She had always felt her inferiority +to others, and now that she loved her ideal of superiority she seemed +to expect ill-treatment--even contempt--at his hands. + +He looked away from her. The begrimed handle of the bellows creaked +and swung as he leaned on it. He turned suddenly and impulsively +grasped her hands. + +"You are a good girl," he cried; "you have been the best friend I ever +had. If I don't treat you better, it is on account of my awful nature. +I can't control it when I think of that villain." + +"He _has_ treated you very badly," she said, slowly, in a voice that +faltered. + +"Where did you meet him and when?" he asked, under his breath. "God +knows I thought you were done with him." + +"He came right to the house just after dark," returned Harriet. +"Mother let him come in; she wanted to talk to him." + +"Did he come to get you to go away with him, Harriet?" + +"Yes, Mr. Westerfelt." + +"And why didn't you go?" + +"Oh, how _can_ you ask such a question," she asked, "when you _know_--" +She broke off suddenly, and then, seeing that he was silent, she added: +"Mr. Westerfelt, sometimes I am afraid, really afraid, your sickness +has affected your mind, you speak so strange and harsh to me. Surely I +do not deserve such cruelty. I am just a woman, and a weak one at +that; a woman driven nearly crazy through troubling about you." She +raised a corner of her shawl to her eyes. + +He saw her shoulders rise with a sob, then he caught her hands. +"Don't--don't cry, little girl. I'd give my life to help you. Oh yes, +_do_ let me hold your hands, just this once; it won't make any +difference." + +She did not attempt to withdraw her hands from his passionate, reckless +clasp, and, now more trustingly, raised her eyes to his. + +"Sometimes I think you really love me," she faltered. "You have made +me think so several times." + +"I'm not ashamed of it," he said. "I've had fancies for women, but I +have never felt this way before. It seems to me if I was to live a +thousand years I'd never, never feel that you was like other women. +Maybe you love me real deep, and maybe you just fancy me, but I'll +never want any other human being like I want you. I have been a bad +man--a careless, thoughtless man. Ever since I was a boy I have played +with love. I was playing with fire--the fire of hell, Harriet--and I +got burnt. In consequence of what I've done I suffer as no mortal ever +suffered. Repentance brings contentment to some men, but they are not +built like me. I don't do anything from morning to night but brood and +brood over my past life." + +"I thought you had had some trouble," she returned, sympathetically. + +"Why did you think so?" he asked. + +"You talked when you were out of your head. That's why I first took +pity on you. I never saw a man suffer in mind as you did. You rolled +and tumbled the first two or three nights and begged for forgiveness; +often you spoke so loud I was afraid others in the house would hear." + +He opened his palms before her. "These hands are soaked in human +blood--innocent human blood," he said, tragically. "I don't deny it; +if it would do a particle of good I'd tell every soul on earth. I won +a good girl's love, and when I got tired of her and left her she killed +herself to escape the misery I put her in. I was unworthy of her, but +she didn't know it, or want to know it. Nobody knows she took her own +life except me and her mother, and it has ruined her life--taken away +her only comfort in old age and made her my mortal enemy. She never +gives me a minute's rest--she reminds me constantly that I'll never get +forgiveness and never be happily married, and she is right--I never +shall. My wicked nature demands too much of a woman. I can love, and +do love, with all my soul, but my pride cannot be subdued. I--" + +"I understand, Mr. Westerfelt" she broke in, quickly. "Don't bring up +that subject again. What you said when I last saw you was enough. It +almost kept me from coming to-night, but it was my duty; but you do not +have to say any more about that." She took a step backward and stood +staring at him in mute misery. She had never felt that she was worthy +of him, in a way, but his cold reference--as she understood it--to her +misfortune released a spring of resentment she hardly knew was wound in +her breast. + +"Forgive me," he pleaded, trying to regain her hands. "I'll never +mention it again. I promise you that--never again." + +"It's all right," she answered, softening under his passionate gaze. +"But it would be kind of you to avoid mentioning what I cannot help." + +He was about to reply, but there was a sound of barking dogs from the +mountain. "Go quick!" She caught her breath. "Don't wait! That may +be them now. Don't let them kill you." + +He did not stir. "You'd better go home," he said, calmly. "I don't +care a straw what becomes of me. I've had enough of the whole +business. I have got as much right to live as anybody else, and I will +not be driven from pillar to post by a gang of outlaws, headed by a +coward." He drew a revolver, and, half cocking it, carelessly twirled +the cylinder with his thumb. "I've got five thirty-two-caliber shots +here, and I think I can put some of them where they ought to go." + +She pushed the revolver down with her hand. "No, no!" she cried, "you +must not be reckless." + +"I am a pretty good shot," he went on, bitterly, "and Toot Wambush +shall be my first target, if I can pick him out. Then the rest may do +what they like with me. You go home. It will do you no good to be +seen with me." + +She caught his arm. "If you don't go, I'll stay right here with you. +Hush! Listen! What was--? Great Heavens, they are coming. Go! Go!" + +She glided swiftly to the door, and he followed her. Coming along the +Hawkbill road, about an eighth of a mile distant, they saw a body of +horsemen, their heads and shoulders dressed in white. His revolver +slipped from his fingers and rang on a fallen anvil. He picked it up +mechanically, still staring into the moonlight. Again he wondered if +he were afraid, as he was that night at the hotel. + +"Run! get out a horse," she cried. "Mr. Washburn is there; he will +help you! Go quick, for God's sake! I shall kill myself if they harm +you." He stared at her an instant, then he put his revolver into his +belt. + +"All right, then, to oblige you; but you must hurry home!" He hastened +across the street and rapped on the office door. + +"Who's thar?" called out Washburn from his bed. + +"Me--Westerfelt." + +There was a sound of bare feet on the floor inside and the door opened. + +"What's up?" asked Washburn, sleepily. + +"I want my horse; there's a gang of Whitecaps coming down the Hawkbill, +and it looks like they are after me." + +"My God!" Washburn began fumbling along the wall. "Where's the +matches? Here's one!" He scratched it and lighted his lantern. "I'll +git yore hoss. Stand heer, Mr. Westerfelt, an' ef I ain't quick enough +make a dash on foot fer that strip o' woods over thar in the field. +The fences would keep 'em from followin', an' you might dodge 'em." + +When Washburn had gone into the stable, Westerfelt looked towards +Harriet. She had walked only a few yards down the street and stood +under the trees. He stepped out into the moonlight and signalled her +to go on, but she refused to move. He heard Washburn swearing inside +the stable, and asked what the matter was. + +"I've got the bridles all tangled to hell," he answered. + +"Hurry; anything will do!" + +The Whitecaps had left the mountain-side and were now in sight on the +level road. A minute more and Westerfelt would be a captive. He might +get across the street unnoticed and hide himself in the blacksmith's +shop, but they would be sure to look for him there. If he tried to go +through the fields they would see him and shoot him down like a rabbit. + +"Heer you are; which door, back or front?" cried Washburn. + +"Front, quick! I've got to run for it! I'm a good mind to stand and +make a fight of it." + +"Oh no; hell, no! Mr. Westerfelt." + +Washburn slid the big door open and kicked the horse in the stomach as +he led him out. + +"Git up, quick! They are at the branch. Blast it, they heerd the +door--they've broke into a gallop!" + +As Westerfelt put his foot into the stirrup he saw Harriet Floyd glide +out of sight into the blacksmith's shop. She had determined not to +desert him. As he sprang up, the girth snapped, and the saddle and +blanket fell under his feet. + +"God, they are on us!" gasped Washburn. One of the gang raised a +shout, and they came on with increased speed. + +"Up! Up!" cried Washburn, kicking the saddle out of his way. "Quick! +What's the matter?" Westerfelt felt a twinge in his old wound as he +tried to mount. Washburn caught one of his legs and lifted him on his +horse. + +Westerfelt spurred the horse furiously, but the animal plunged, +stumbled, and came to his knees--the bridle-rein had caught his foot. +The foremost of the gang was now within twenty yards of him. + +"Halt thar!" he yelled. + +Westerfelt drew his horse up and continued to lash him with his +bridle-rein. + +"Shoot his hoss, but don't tetch him!" was the next command. + +Several revolvers went off. Westerfelt's horse swayed at the rump and +then ran sideways across the street and fell against a rail fence. +Westerfelt alighted on his feet. He turned and drew his revolver, but +just then his horse rolled over against his legs and knocked the weapon +from his hand. It struck the belly of the horse and bounded into the +middle of the street. + +"Ha, we've got ye!" jeered the leader, as he and two or three others +covered Westerfelt with their revolvers. + + + + +Chapter XIII + +The gang formed a semi-circle round Westerfelt and his horse. In their +white caps and sheets they appeared ghostly and hideous, as they looked +down at him through the eye-holes of their masks. One of them held a +coil of new rope and tantalizingly swung it back and forth before his +face. + +"You must go with us up the Hawkbill fer a little moonlight picnic," he +jeered. "We've picked out a tree up thar that leans spank over a cliff +five hundred feet from the bottom. Ef the rope broke, ur yore noggin +slipped through the noose, you'd never know how come you so." + +"He's got to have some'n to ride," suggested another muffled voice; "we +have done his horse up." + +"Well, he's got a-plenty, an' he won't need 'em atter our ja'nt," +jested the man with the rope. "You uns back thar, that hain't doin' +nothin' but lookin' purty, go in the stable and trot out some'n fer 'im +to ride; doggoned ef I want 'im straddled behind me. His ha'nt 'ud +ride with me every time I passed over the Hawkbill." + +"Bill Washburn's in thar," said a man in the edge of the crowd. "I +seed 'im run in as we rid up." + +The leader, who sat on a restive horse near Westerfelt, called out: + +"Hello in thar, Bill Washburn; git out some'n to put yore man on. +Hurry up, ur we'll take you along to see the fun." + +Washburn opened the office door and came out slowly. + +"What do _you_ say, Mr. Westerfelt? It's yore property. I won't move +a peg agin the man that I work fer ef eve'y dam Whitecap in Christendom +orders it." + +"Care_ful_, care_ful_, young man; none o' your lip!" said the leader, +half admiringly. + +"Give 'em the lot!" It was the first time Westerfelt had spoken. + +Washburn made no reply, but went slowly back into the stable. + +Westerfelt's dying horse raised his head and groaned. A man near the +animal dismounted and drew his revolver. + +"What d' you say?" said he to Westerfelt. "Hadn't I better put 'im out +o' his misery?" + +"I'd be much obliged if you would." Westerfelt turned his face away. +There was a moment's pause. The man waited for the horse's head to +become still. Then he fired. + +"Thanks," said Westerfelt. He looked round at the crowd, wondering +which of the men could be Toot Wambush. He had an idea that he had not +yet spoken, and was not among those nearest to him. Through the open +door he could see Washburn's lantern moving about in the stable. + +"Hurry up in thar," cried a tall figure. "Do you think we're gwine +to--" He began to cough. + +"How do you like to chaw cotton, Number Six?" a man near him asked. + +"The blamed lint gits down my throat," was the reply. "I'd ruther be +knowed by my voice'n to choke to death on sech truck." + +From far and near on all sides came the dismal barking of dogs, but the +villagers, if they suspected what was being enacted, dared not show +their faces. Washburn led a horse through the crowd and gave the +bridle to Westerfelt. He hesitated, as if about to speak, and then +silently withdrew. Westerfelt mounted. The leader gave the order, and +the gang moved back towards the mountain. Two horsemen went before +Westerfelt and two fell behind. As they passed the shop, dimly he saw +the form of a woman lying on the ground just out of the moonlight that +fell in at the door. Harriet had swooned. When they had gone past the +shop, Westerfelt reined in his horse and called over his shoulder to +Washburn, who stood in front of the stable. He would not leave her +lying there if he could help it, and yet he did not want Wambush to +know she had warned him. The gang stopped, and Washburn came to them. + +"Any directions you want to give?" he asked of Westerfelt. + +"I saw you looking for the account-book," answered Westerfelt, staring +significantly into his eyes. "I was in the blacksmith's shop to-day +and left it on the forge." + +Washburn stared blankly at him for an instant, then he said, slowly, +"All right." + +"You'd better get it to-night," added Westerfelt. + +"All right, sir. I'll attend to everything." + +"Cool as a cucumber," laughed a man. "Next thing you know he'll give +orders 'bout whar he wants to be buried, an' what to have cut on his +grave-rock." + +The whole gang laughed at this witticism, and started on again. When +they had gone about a hundred yards Westerfelt glanced back. He saw +Washburn cross the road and enter the blacksmith's shop, and the next +instant the shop was hidden by a sudden turn in the road. They passed +the meeting-house and began to ascend the mountain. Here and there +along the dark range shone the red fires of chestnut harvesters. The +blue smoke hung among the pines, and the air was filled with the odor +of burning leaves. They passed a camp--a white-covered wagon, filled +with bags of chestnuts, two mules tethered to saplings, and three or +four forms in dusky blankets lying round a log fire. As the weird +procession passed, the mules drew back on their halters and threw their +ears forward, but the bodies at the fire did not stir. + +In about twenty minutes the band reached a plateau covered with a +matting of heather. They went across it to the edge of a high +precipice. It was as perpendicular as a wall. Below lay the valley, +its forests of pines and cedars looking like a black lake in the clear +moonlight. + +"Git down, men, an' let's 'tend to business an' go back home," +commanded the leader. "I have a hankerin' atter a hot breakfast." + +Everybody alighted except Westerfelt. The leader touched him with his +whip. "Will you git down, or do you want to be drug off like a saddle?" + +"May I ask what you intend to do with me?" asked Westerfelt, +indifferently. + +The leader laughed. "Put some turkey red calico stripes on that broad +back o' yorn, an' rub in some salt and pepper to cuore it up. We are +a-gwine to l'arn you that new settlers cayn't run this community an' +coolly turn the bluecoats agin us mount'in folks." + +Westerfelt looked down on the masks upturned to him. Only one of the +band showed a revolver. Westerfelt believed him to be Toot Wambush. +He had not spoken a word, but was one of the two that had ridden close +behind him up the mountain. One of the white figures unstrapped a +pillow from the back part of his saddle. He held it between his knees +and gashed it with a knife. + +"By hunkey! they're white uns," he grunted, as he took out a handful. +"I 'lowed they wus mixed; ef my ole woman knowed I'd tuck a poke uv 'er +best goose feathers ter dab on a man she'd get a divorce." + +Two or three laughed behind their masks. Another laugh went round as a +short figure returned from the bushes with a bucket of tar which had +been left near the road-side. + +"Heer's yore gumstickum." He dipped a paddle in it and flourished it +before Westerfelt, who was still on his horse. "Say, mister, you don't +seem inclined to say anything fer yorese'f; the last man we dressed out +fer his weddin' begged like a whipped child, an' made no end o' +promises uv good behavior." + +Westerfelt got down from his horse. "I'm completely in your power," he +replied. "I won't beg any man nor gang of men living to give me my +rights. I suppose I am accused of having reported those fellows to the +revenue men. I have simply to say that it is a lie!" + +"Uh, uh!" said the leader; "_care_ful! _care_ful! Don't be reckless. +We uns ain't the lyin' sort." + +"I say it's a lie!" Westerfelt stared straight into the mask of Toot +Wambush. The wearer of it started and half raised his revolver, but +quickly concealed it under the sheet that hung below his waist. +Everybody was silent, as if they expected a reply from Wambush, but he +made none. + +"Them pore Cohutta men lyin' in the Atlanta jail said so, anyway," +returned the leader. "They ain't heer to speak fer the'rse'ves; it's a +easy thing to give them the lie behind the'r backs." + +"They were mistaken, that's all," said Westerfelt. "Nobody but the +revenue men themselves could tell the whole truth about it. I did pass +the wagon--" + +"An' eavedropped on our two men. Oh, we know you did, kase they heerd +a sound, an' then as you didn't come for'ard, they 'lowed they had made +a mistake, but when you finally did pass they knowed it wus you, an' +that you'd been listenin'." + +"That's the truth," admitted Westerfelt. "I had been warned that it +would be dangerous for me to go about in the mountains alone. I heard +the men talking, and stopped to find out who they were. I did not want +to run into an ambush. As soon as I found out who they were I spoke to +them and passed." + +"At the stable, though, young man," reminded the leader--"at the +stable, when the bluecoats fetched the prisoners an' the plunder in, +they told you that they'd found them right whar you said they wus." + +"You bet he did. What's the use a-jabberin' any longer?" The voice +was unmistakably Wambush's, and his angry tones seemed to fire the +impatience of the others. Westerfelt started to speak, but his words +were drowned in a tumult of voices. + +"Go ahead!" cried several. + +"Go ahead! Are you gwine to hold a court an' try 'im by law?" asked +Wambush, hotly. "I 'lowed that point was done settled." + +Westerfelt calmly folded his arms. "I've no more to say. I see I'm +not going to be heard. You are a gang of cold-blooded murderers." + +The words seemed to anger the leader. + +"Shuck off that coat an' shirt!" was his order. + +Westerfelt did not move. "I'm glad to say I'm not afraid of you," he +said. "If you have got human hearts in you, though, you'll kill me, +and not let me live after the degradation you are going to inflict. I +know who's led you to this. It is a cowardly dog who never had a thing +against me till I refused to let him have credit at my stable, when he +owes an account that's been running for two years. He tried to kill me +with a pistol and a knife when I was unarmed. He failed, and had to +get you to help him. You are not a bit better than he is. I'm no +coward. I've got fighting blood in me. Some of you'd acknowledge it +if I was to tell you who my father was. I have reason to believe there +are men here to-night who fought side by side with him in the war, and +were with him when he was shot down tryin' to hold up the flag at the +battle of Chickamauga. One of the dirty cowards he once carried off +the field when the whelp could hardly walk with a bullet in his leg!" + +"What company wus that?" came from the edge of the crowd. The voice +was quivering. + +"Forty-second Georgia." + +For a moment no one spoke, then the same voice asked: + +"Who wus your pa, young man?" + +"Captain Alfred Stone Westerfelt, under Colonel Mills." + +The tall slender figure of the questioner leaned forward breathlessly +and then pushed into the ring. Without a word he stood near +Westerfelt, unpinned the sheet that was round him, and slowly took off +his mask. Then he put a long forefinger into his mouth, pried a wad of +cotton out of each cheek, and threw them on the ground. + +It was old Jim Hunter. He cleared his throat, spat twice, wiped his +mouth with his hand, and slowly swept the circle with his eyes. + +"I'm the feller he toted out," he said. He cleared his throat again, +and went on: + +"Boys, if thar's to be any whippin', ur tarrin' an' featherin' in this +case, I'm agin it tooth an' toe-nail. Cap Westerfelt's boy sha'n't +have a hair o' his head fetched on sech flimsy evi_dence_ as we've had +while I'm alive. You kin think what you please o' me. I've got too +much faith in the Westerfelt stock to believe that a branch of it 'u'd +spy ur sneak. This is Jim Hunter a-talkin'." + +Two others pushed forward, taking off their sheets and masks. They +were Joe Longfield and Weston Burks. + +"We are t'other two," said Longfield, dryly. "The Yanks killed off too +blame many o' that breed o' men fer us to begin to abuse one at this +late day. Ef Westerfelt's harmed, it will be over my dead body, an' I +bet I'm as hard to kill as a eel." + +"Joe's a-talkin' fer me," said Burks, simply, and he put his hand on +his revolver. + +"We've been too hasty," began Jim Hunter again. "We've 'lowed Toot to +inflame our minds agin this man, an' now I'll bet my hat he's innocent. +I'd resk a hoss on it." + +"Thar's a gal in it, I'm a-thinkin'," opined Weston Burks, dryly. + +"Men," cried the leader, "thar's a serious disagreement; we've always +listened to Jim Hunter; what must we do about the matter under dispute?" + +"Send the man back to town," cried a voice in the edge of the crowd. +"He's the right sort to the marrow; I'll give 'im my paw an' wish 'im +well." + +"That's the ticket!" chimed in the man with the rope, as he tossed it +over the horn of his saddle. + +"I 'low myself we've been a leetle bit hasty," admitted the leader. + +"Put down that gun! Drap it!" cried Jim Hunter, turning suddenly on +Toot Wambush. "Ef you dare to cock a gun in this crowd, you'll never +live to hear it bang!" + +Wambush started to raise his revolver again, but Hunter knocked it from +his hand. Wambush stooped to pick it up, but the old man kicked it out +of his reach. + +"You don't work that trick on this party," he said, hotly. + +"I wasn't tryin' to draw it," muttered Wambush. + +"You lie!" Then Hunter turned to the leader: "What d'ye think ortter +be done with a man like that? Ef I hadn't a-been so quick he'd a shot +Westerfelt, an' before the law we'd all a-been accomplices in murderin' +a innocent man." + +"I move we give the whelp six hours to git out'n the county," said Joe +Longfield. "You all know I've been agin Toot." + +"That would be too merciful," said Burks. + +"Boys," the leader cried, "Wambush has broke a rule in tryin' this +thing on us. You've heerd the motion; is thar a second?" + +"I second it," said Jim Hunter. + +"It's been moved and seconded that Wambush be 'lowed six hours to git +clean out o' the county; all in favor say yes." + +There was almost a general roar. + +"All opposed say no." + +No one spoke for a moment, then Wambush muttered something, but no one +understood what it was. He turned his horse round and started to +mount. He had his left foot in the stirrup, and had grasped the mane +of the animal with his right hand, when the leader yelled: + +"Hold on thar! Not so quick, sonny. We don't let nobody as sneakin' +as you are ride off with a gun in his hip pocket. S'arch 'im, boys; +he's jest the sort to fire back on us an' make a dash fer it." + +Hunter and Burks closed in on him. Wambush drew back and put his hand +behind him. + +"Damn you! don't you touch me!" he threatened. + +The two men sprang at him like tigers and grasped his arms. Wambush +struggled and kicked, but they held him. + +"Wait thar a minute," cried the leader; "he don't know when to let well +enough alone. You white sperits out thar with the tar an' feathers +come for'ard. Wambush ain't satisfied with the garb he's got on." + +A general laugh went round. With an oath Wambush threw his revolver on +the ground and then his knife. This done, Hunter and Burks allowed him +to mount. + +"Don't let him go yet," commanded the leader; "look in his saddle-bags." + +Wambush's horse suddenly snorted, kicked up his heels, and tried to +plunge forward, but Burks clung to the reins and held him. + +"He dug his spur into his hoss on this side like thunder," said a man +in the crowd. "It's a wonder he didn't rip 'im open." + +"S'arch them bags," ordered the leader, "an' ef he makes anuther budge +before it's done, or opens his mouth fer a whisper, drag 'im right down +an' give 'im 'is deserts." + +Wambush offered no further resistance. Hunter fumbled in the bags. He +held up a quart flask of corn whiskey over his head, shook it in the +moonlight, and then restored it. "I hain't the heart to deprive 'im of +that," he said, as he walked round the horse; "he won't find any better +in his travels." On the other side he found a forty-four-caliber +revolver. + +"That 'u'd be a ugly customer to meet on a dark road," he said, holding +it up for the others to see. "By hunky! it 'u'd dig a tunnel through a +rock mountain. Say, Westerfelt, ef he'd 'a' got a whack at yer with +this yore fragments 'u'd never a-come together on the day o' jedgment." + +Westerfelt made no reply. + +"Now, let 'im go," said the leader. "Ef he dares to be seed anywhar in +the Cohutta section six hours frum now he knows what will come uv 'im. +We refuse to shelter 'im any longer, an' the officers of the law will +take 'im in tow." + +The ring of men and horses opened for Wambush to pass out. He said +nothing, and did not turn his head as he rode down the mountain into +the mysterious haze that hung over the valley. + +"What do you say, boys?" proposed Jim Hunter to Longfield and Burks. +"Let's ride down the road a piece with Westerfelt." + +"All right," both of them said. There was a general scramble of the +band to get mounted. Westerfelt got on his horse and started back +towards the village, accompanied by the three men. When they had +ridden about a hundred yards, Westerfelt said: + +"I'm taking you out of your way, gentlemen, and I think I'd rather go +alone." + +"Well, all right," said Hunter; "but you've got to take my gun. That +whelp would resk his salvation to get even with you." + +"I know it," said Westerfelt, putting the revolver into his pocket; +"but he'll not try it to-night." + +"No, I think he's gone fer good," said Longfield. "I guess he'll make +fer Texas." + +At a point where two roads crossed a few yards ahead of them, +Westerfelt parted with the three men. They went back up the mountain, +and he rode slowly homeward. + +When he was in sight of the stable, he saw Washburn coming towards him +on horseback. + +"Hello! Did they hurt you, Mr. Westerfelt?" he asked. + +"They never touched me." + +"My Lord! how was that?" + +"I told them I had nothing to do with the arrest; three of them were +old friends of my father's, and they believed me. Did you find +her--did you find Miss Harriet?" + +"Yes; I couldn't make out what you meant 'bout the account-book at +first, but I went over to the shop as soon as you all left. She wus +lyin' thar on the ground in a dead faint. It took hard work to bring +her to." + +"You took her home?" + +"Not right away; I couldn't do a thing with 'er. She acted like a +crazy woman. She screamed an' raged an' tore about an' begged fer a +hoss to ride atter you all. She wasn't in no fix to go; she didn't +know what she wus about, an' that scamp would a-shot 'er. I believe on +my soul he would." + +They had reached the stable and dismounted, but neither moved to go in. + +"I reckon you ought to know the truth, Washburn, since you saw her +there so late at night," said Westerfelt, hesitatingly. "The fact is, +she came to warn me. I suppose she knew Wambush would try to kill me, +and she didn't want to--" + +"She don't keer a snap for Wambush, ef that's what you mean," said +Washburn, when he saw that Westerfelt was going no farther. "I know +it's been the talk, an' she no doubt did like him a little at one time, +but the' ain't but one man livin' she keers fer now. It ain't none o' +my business--I'm no hand to meddle, but I know women! She kep' cryin' +an' sayin' that they'd murder you, an' ef they did she'd kill Toot +Wambush ur die in the attempt. I'm tellin' you a straight tale." + +Westerfelt sat down in a chair at the side of the door. Washburn led +the horse into the stable and put him into a stall. Then he came back. +Westerfelt's hands were over his face, but he took them down when he +heard Washburn's step. + +"Did--did she hurt herself when she fell?" he asked. + +"No, she's all right." Washburn hesitated a moment, then he added: +"Mr. Westerfelt, you ought to go up to yore room an' try to rest some; +this night's been purty rough on you atter bein' down in bed so long." + +Westerfelt rose silently and went through the office and up the stairs. + + + + +Chapter XIV + +The dawn was breaking when Harriet Floyd stole up to her room under the +slant of the roof. She had no idea of trying to sleep. She sat down +on the side of the bed, shivering with cold. Through the small-paned +dormer window the gray light fell, bringing into vague relief the +different objects in the room. Down in the back yard the chickens were +flapping their wings and crowing lustily. Through the dingy glass she +could see the cow-lot, the sagging roof of the wagon-shed, the barn, +the ricks of hay, and the bare branches of the apple-trees still +holding a few late apples. Her shoes were wet with dew and her dress +and shawl hung limply about her. + +There was a sudden step in the hall; a hand touched the latch; the door +opened cautiously. + +"Harriet!" + +"Yes, mother." + +Mrs. Floyd glided across the floor, sat down on the bed by her +daughter, and stared at her in wonder. + +"Where on earth have you been? I have been watching for you all night. +Oh, my child, what is the matter? What has gone wrong?" + +"I have been out trying to save Mr. Westerfelt. Toot led the +Regulators down an' they took him out. I warned him, but he would not +go in time and they took him to the mountain." + +"Good Heavens! what did they intend to do with him?" + +"Most of them meant only to frighten him and to whip him, but Toot +Wambush will kill him if he gets a chance." + +"I don't believe they'll harm him," said Mrs. Floyd, consolingly. +"Anyway, we can't do anything; get in bed and let me cover you up; you +are damp to the skin and all of a quiver; you'll catch your death +sitting here." + +Mrs. Floyd put her hand round Harriet, but she sprang up and pulled +down a heavy cloak from a hook on the wall. + +"I did not come here to go to bed!" she cried. She put the garment on +and strode past her mother to the window. Mrs. Floyd followed her +movements with an anxious glance. At the window Harriet turned and +stamped her foot. "Do you think I'm going to bed when I don't +know--oh, my God, I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" She suddenly +approached her bewildered mother, put her hands on her shoulders, and +turned her face to the light. "You hear me, mother? As God in Heaven +is my witness, if a hair of that man's head is harmed to-night, I'll +kill Toot Wambush on sight. I'll kill him, if I hang for it! I swear +it before God! Do you hear? I swear it--no power on earth shall stop +me! I'll _do_ it!" + +Her body swayed. She made a step towards the door and sank down in a +swoon. Mrs. Floyd sprang for a pitcher of water and sprinkled her +face. The girl revived a little, and her mother raised her in her +arms, put her on the bed, and drew the covers over her. Harriet closed +her eyes drowsily. She did not seem wholly conscious. Mrs. Floyd went +down-stairs and lighted a fire in the kitchen stove, and put on some +water to heat. Then she went to the cook's room off the back porch and +shook the door. + +"Get up quick, Em', Harriet is sick!" she cried; then she ran up to her +own room, opposite Harriet's, and finished dressing herself. As she +was crossing the hall she saw a man on horseback in the street. She +went out on the veranda and called to him. At first she did not +recognize him, but when he came nearer she saw that it was Washburn. + +"Are you going to help Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked, in a low tone, as +she leaned over the railing. + +"I've done all that kin be done," he said. "I've been round among the +citizens. They all say we'd be fools to try to do anything, Mrs. +Floyd. Some are skeerd to death, an' others pretend they don't think +Mr. Westerfelt's in danger." + +She did not answer, fearing her voice would rouse Harriet, and after he +had ridden away, she went back to the girl's room. Harriet was asleep, +so she left her. A few hours later the barkeeper's wife came into the +kitchen and told Mrs. Floyd the latest news. She dropped the pan she +was cleaning and eagerly ran up to Harriet. + +The noise of the opening door roused the girl. She sat up, stared in a +dazed way at her mother an instant, then threw off the coverings and +sprang out of bed. + +"I've been asleep; Mr. Westerfelt! Oh, mother, why did you let me--" + +"He's all right!" interrupted Mrs. Floyd. "They didn't touch a hair of +his head." Harriet stared open-mouthed. + +"He's back safe and sound," went on Mrs. Floyd; "he proved himself +innocent and they let 'im go." + +"Oh, mother, mother!" Harriet put her arms round the old woman's neck +and clung to her. "Thank God! Oh, mother, thank God--thank God!" +Then she sat down in a chair and began hastily to put on her shoes. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Going to see him." + +"Not now; why--" + +"I _will_ see him. Let me alone; don't try to stop me!" + +"You surely would not go to the stable! He--" + +"I'd go anywhere to see him. I don't care what people say; I'm going +to see him." + +As Harriet bent to fasten her shoes, Mrs. Floyd touched her. + +"Daughter, are you engaged to Mr. Westerfelt?" + +Harriet did not look up. She still bent over her shoes, but the +strings lay motionless in her fingers. + +"No, he intimated he couldn't marry me, on--on account of my +misfortune. Oh, don't let's talk about it. He and I understand each +other. He loves me, but we're not engaged." + +Mrs. Floyd leaned against the mantel-piece. Her face had become hard +and stern. Harriet started to leave the room, but Mrs. Floyd suddenly +stepped between her and the door. + +"He intimated that _that_ would keep him from marrying you? My +Lord--the coward!" + +"Mother, don't--don't say that!" + +"I thought he was a _man_! Why, he is lower than a brute." + +Harriet disengaged herself from her mother's grasp, and passed on to +the door. She turned on the threshold. + +"I have no time to quarrel with you about him," she said, with a sigh; +"you can have your opinion, nothing on earth will change mine. He +loves me. I am going to see him now, and nothing you can say or do +will prevent me." + +Her shoes rattled loosely on the bare floor and on the stairs as she +went down to the street. + +During the night the sycamore-trees had strewn the ground with +half-green, half-yellow leaves, and the tops of the fences were white +with frost. Martin Worthy was taking down the shutters at the store +and calling through the window to his wife, who was unscrewing them on +the inside. A farmer had left his team in front of the bar, and she +saw him taking his morning drink at the counter and heard Buck +Hillhouse giving him an exaggerated report of the visit of the +Whitecaps. The eastern sky was yellowing, and a peak of the tallest +mountain cut a brown gash in the coming sunlight. At the fence in +front of Bufford Webb's cottage a cow stood lowing for admittance, and +a milking-pail hung on the gate. + +As Harriet passed, Mrs. Webb came out with a bucket of "slop" for the +pig in a pen near the fence. She rested it on the top rail to speak to +Harriet, but the hungry animal made such a noise that she hastened +first to empty the vessel into the trough. + +"Good-morning," she said, going quickly to the gate and wiping her +hands on her apron; "did you-uns heer the racket last night?" + +"Yes," answered Harriet. + +"I didn't sleep a wink. We could see 'em frum the kitchen winder. +It's a outrage, but I'm glad they did no rail harm." + +The girl passed on. She found Washburn in front of the stable oiling a +buggy. He had placed a notched plank under an axle and was rapidly +twirling a wheel. + +"Where is Mr. Westerfelt?" she asked. + +He raised his eyes to the window in the attic. "Up thar lyin' down. +He's not in bed. He jest threw hisself down without undressing." + +"Is he asleep?" + +"I don't know, Miss Harriet, but I think not." + +"Did they hurt him last night, Mr. Washburn?" + +"Why, no, Miss Harriet, not a single bit." + +She caught her breath in relief. "I thought maybe they had, and that +he was not going to acknowledge it. Are--are you sure?" + +"As sure as I could be of anything, Miss Harriet; I believe he is a +truthful man, an' he told me they didn't lay the weight of a finger on +'im. You kin go up an' ax 'im. He ain't asleep; he looked too worried +to sleep when he got back. He walked the floor the balance o' the +night. Seems to me he's been through with enough to lay out six common +men." + +Harriet did not answer. She turned into the office and went up the +stairs to Westerfelt's room. Round her was a dark, partially floored +space containing hay, fodder, boxes of shelled corn, piles of corn in +the husk, and bales of cotton-seed meal. She rapped on the +door-facing, and, as she received no response, she called out: + +"Mr. Westerfelt, come out a minute." + +She heard him rise from his bed, and in a moment he stood in the +doorway. + +"Oh, it's you!" he cried, in a glad voice. "I was afraid you were not +well. I--" + +"I am all right," she assured him. "But I simply couldn't rest till I +saw you with my own eyes. When I heard they let you off I was afraid +it was a false report. Sometimes, when those men do a bad thing they +try to cover it up. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, I am so--so miserable!" + +He caught her hands and tried to draw her into his room out of the +draught which came up the stairs, but she would not go farther than the +door. + +"No, I must hurry back home" she said. "Mother did not want me to come +anyway; she didn't think it looked right, but I was so--so worried." + +"I understand." He was feasting his eyes on hers; it was as if their +hunger could never be appeased. "Oh, I'm so glad you come I've had you +on my mind--" + +But she interrupted him suddenly. Looking round at the bleak room and +its scant furniture, she said: "I--I thought may be I could persuade +you now to come back to your room at the hotel, where mother and I +could wait on you. You do not look as well as you did, Mr. Westerfelt." + +He smiled and shook his head. + +"It's mighty good of you to ask me," he returned, "but this is good +enough for me, and I don't want to be such a bother. The Lord knows I +was enough trouble when I was there." + +A look of sharp pain came upon her sensitive face for an instant, then +she said; "I wish you wouldn't talk that way; you weren't one bit of +trouble." + +He looked away from her. He was, indeed, not at his best. His beard +had grown out on his usually clean-shaven face and his cheeks looked +sallow and sunken. He was tingling all over with a raging desire to +throw his arms about her and tell her how he loved her and longed to +make her his wife, but suddenly a mind-picture of Toot Wambush rose +before him. He saw her deliberately lying to the officers to save him +from arrest, and--worse than all--he saw her in the arms of the +outlaw's father sobbing out a confession of her love. He told himself +then, almost in abject terror of some punishment held over him by God +Himself, that Mrs. Dawson's prayers would be answered--if--if he gave +way. "No," he commanded himself, "I shall stand firm. She's not for +me, though she may love me--though she does love me now and would wipe +out the past with her life. A woman as changeable as that would change +again." Then a jealous rage flared up within him, and he laid a +threatening hand on either of her shoulders and glared into her eyes. + +"I told you last night I'd never bring up a certain subject again, +but--" + +"Then you'd better not," she said, so firmly, so vindictively, that his +tongue was stilled. "I came here out of kindness; don't you +dare--don't you insult me again, Mr. Westerfelt." + +"Oh, do forgive me! I--" But she had shaken off his hands and moved +nearer the stairway. + +"You made a promise last night," she reminded him, "and I did not dream +you had so little respect for me as to break it so soon." + +He moved towards her, his hands outstretched imploringly, but a sound +from below checked him. Some one was speaking to Washburn in the +office. Then footsteps were heard on the stairs, and Mrs. Bradley, +followed by Luke, waddled laboriously up the steps. She was wiping her +eyes, which were red from weeping. She glanced in cold surprise at +Harriet, and passing her with only a nod, went to Westerfelt and threw +her arms around his neck. Then with her head on his breast she burst +into fresh tears. + +"You pore, motherless, unprotected boy," she sobbed. "I can't bear it +a bit longer. Me 'n' Luke wus the cause o' yore comin' to this +oncivilized place anyway, an' you've been treated wuss 'an a dog. Ef +Luke had one speck o' manhood left in him, he'd--" + +Bradley advanced from the door, and drew his wife away from Westerfelt. + +"Don't act so daddratted foolish," he said. "No harm hain't been done +yet--no _serious_ harm." Still holding her hand, he turned to +Westerfelt; "They've tried to do you dirt, John, I know, but them boys +will be the best friends on earth to you now. Ef you ever want to run +fer office all you got to do is to announce yorese'f. Old Hunter wus +down at Bill Stone's this mornin' as we passed buyin' his fine hoss to +replace yore'n." + +"I reckon they've run Toot Wambush clean off," put in Mrs. Bradley, +looking significantly at Harriet. She expected the girl to reply, but +Harriet only avoided her glance. Mrs. Bradley rubbed her eyes again, +put her handkerchief into her pocket, and critically surveyed the damp, +bedraggled dress of the girl. + +"It's mighty good of you to come down to see 'im all by yourself so +early," she said; "some gals wouldn't do sech a thing. The report is +out that you notified John of what the band intended to do." + +Harriet nodded, and looked as if she wanted to get away. + +"It wus mighty good of you, especially as you an' Toot are sech firm +friends," went on Mrs. Bradley; "but it's a pity you wusn't a little +sooner with yore information." + +"She told me in plenty of time," corrected Westerfelt. "It was my +fault that I didn't get away. I didn't go when Miss Harriet told me +to." + +His reply did not please Mrs. Bradley, as she showed by her next +remark. "I'd think you'd be afeerd o' makin' Toot madder at you 'n he +already is," she said to Harriet. + +The girl did not look at her. She was watching Westerfelt, who had +suddenly moved to the bed and sat down. When she spoke she directed +her explanation to Bradley rather than to his wife. + +"Mother and I thought Mr. Westerfelt ought not to stay here alone, and +that we'd get him to come over to the room he had in the hotel; so we--" + +"You an' yore mother hain't knowed 'im sence he wus knee-high like me +an' Luke has," jealously retorted Mrs. Bradley. "I reckon it's time we +wus givin' the boy a little attention. We've got the buggy down thar +waitin', John, an' a hot breakfast ready at home. I won't stand no +refusal. You jest got to come with us; you needn't make no excuse." + +"I'm not sick," answered Westerfelt, with a faint smile. He glanced at +Harriet. With an unsteady step she was moving away. He wanted to call +to her, but the presence of the others sealed his lips. She turned out +into the semi-darkness of the loft, and then they heard her descending +the stairs. + +The sun was rising as she went back to the hotel. No one was in the +parlor. She entered it and closed the door after her. She drew up the +window-shade and looked down the street till she saw Mrs. Bradley and +Westerfelt pass in a buggy. Then she went into the dining-room, where +a servant was laying a cloth on a long table, took down a stack of +plates from a shelf, and began to put them in their places. + +When breakfast was over that morning Westerfelt went back to the +stable. While sitting in the office. Long Jim Hunter came to the door +leading a fine bay horse, a horse that Westerfelt recognized at a +glance as one he had seen and admired before. + +"Oh, Mr. Westerfelt," he called out over Washburn's shoulder, who had +gone to him. "I wish you'd step heer a minute. I know you don't do +the rough work round heer, but I like to have my dealings with the head +of a shebang. Wash, heer, never did have much more sense 'n a chinch, +nohow." + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" asked the man addressed, coming +out. + +There was a decidedly sheepish look in the old man's face, and he swung +the halter of the horse awkwardly to and fro. + +"Well, you see, it's jest this way, Westerfelt," he began, with an +effort. "I've bought this blamed hoss frum Bill Stone an' I want to +leave 'im heer with you. I want you to put 'im through any sort o' +work you see fit; he's too blam' fat an' frisky anyhow." + +Westerfelt comprehended the whole situation, but he did not want to +accept the horse. "Why, Mr. Hunter, really--" he began. + +"Oh, we'll take yore hoss," laughed Washburn. "We kin take the kinks +out'n his mane an' tail an' make 'im wish he never wus born. Oh, +Lordy, yes, we want 'im, an' ef you've got a good saddle an' bridle ur +a buggy hustle 'em around." + +"Well, you'd better 'tend to 'im." Hunter tossed the halter to +Washburn. "I'll be blamed ef I want 'im." And he turned and without +another word walked away. + +"It's wuth three o' the one they shot," was Washburn's laconic +observation. He looked the animal over admiringly and slapped him so +vigorously under the belly that the horse grunted and humped his back. + +Cartwright, like nearly every other Georgian village, had its lawyer. +Bascom Bates was a young man of not more than thirty, but he was +accounted shrewd by many older legal heads, who had been said to have +advised him to move to a larger place. When business did not come to +his office, Bates sometimes went after it. If a woman lost a husband +in a railway wreck or was knocked off the track where he had no right +to be, Bates called as early as possible and offered to direct a suit +against the corporation for damages at half the usual price--that is, +as Bill Stone once put it, the widow got half and Bates half, which +nobody seemed to think exorbitant, because it cost a lawyer a good deal +to get his education, and court convened but twice a year. He was +among the first to call on Westerfelt that morning, and with a +mysterious nod and crooking of his fingers in the air he induced the +young man to follow him into one of the vacant stalls in the back part +of the long building. + +"Thar's something that has jest struck me, Westerfelt," he began, in +the low voice of an electioneering candidate, and he possessed himself +of one of Westerfelt's lapels and began to rub his thick, red fingers +over it. "I wouldn't have you mention me in the matter, for really I +hain't got a thing ag'in any of these mountain men, but I thought I'd +say to you as a friend that this is a damageable case. Them men could +be handled for what they done last night, and made to sweat for +it--sweat hard cash, as the feller said." + +Westerfelt stared at him in surprise. + +"Oh," he said, "I never thought of that. I--" + +"Well, there ain't no harm in looking at the thing from all sides," +broke in the lawyer, as deliberately as his professional eagerness +would permit. "A good price could be made out of the ring-leaders +anyway. Old Jim Hunter's got two hundred acres o' bottom land as black +as that back yard out thar, an' it's well stocked, an' I know all the +rest o' the gang an' their ability to plank up. Maybe it wouldn't even +get as far as court. Them fellers would pay up rather than be +published all over creation as--" + +Westerfelt drew back, smiling. He did not really dislike Bates, and he +attributed his present proposition to the desire to advance in his +profession, but he was far from falling into the present proposal. + +"I haven't the slightest intention of prosecuting, Mr. Bates," he +declared, firmly. "In fact, nothing could persuade me to take a single +step in that direction." + +The face of the lawyer fell. + +"Oh, that's the way you feel. Well," scratching his chin, "I don't +know as it makes much difference one way or the other, but I hope, Mr. +Westerfelt, that you won't mention what I said. These fellers are the +very devil about boycottin' people." + +"It shall go no further," answered Westerfelt, and together they walked +to the front. A few minutes after Bates had gone across the street to +his office, old Hunter slouched into the stable and stood before +Westerfelt. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Bates's direction +and grinned uneasily. Then he spat, and delivered himself of this: + +"I'll bet I kin make a powerful good guess at what that feller wanted +to see you about." + +Westerfelt smiled good-naturedly. He felt irresistibly drawn towards +the old man. + +"Do you think you could, Mr. Hunter?" + +"I'd bet a ten-acre lot agin a ginger-cake. An' I'll bet some'n else; +I'll bet ten dollars 'gin a nickel that Cap. Westerfelt's boy ain't +a-gwine to harbor no ill-will agin one o' his daddy's old friends that +wus actin' the damn fool 'fore he knowed who he wus monkeyin' with." + +"You'd win on that bet, Mr. Hunter," and Westerfelt gave the old man +his hand. + +Hunter's shook as with palsy as he grasped and held it. Tears rose in +his eyes. "Lord, Lord A'mighty!" he said, "when I reecolect that the +young chap 'at stood up thar so spunky all by hisse'f last night, in +that moonlight an' sassed all of us to our teeth was Cap. Westerfelt's +boy--by God, I jest want some hound dog to come an' take my place on +God's earth--so I do. I want some able-bodied cornfield nigger to wear +a hickory-withe out on my bare back." Then he dropped Westerfelt's +hand and strode away. + + + + +Chapter XV + +Westerfelt accepted the urgent invitation of the Bradleys to live in +their house awhile. For the first week his wound gave him pain and his +appetite failed him, which was due as much, perhaps, to mental as +bodily trouble, for Harriet Floyd was on his mind constantly. +Thoroughly disgusted with himself for having in the past treated the +hearts of women lightly, he now drew the rein of honor tightly when he +thought of his position and hers. He told himself he would never go to +see her again till he had made up his mind to forget her love for +Wambush and every rasping fact pertaining to it, and honorably ask her +to be his wife. There were moments in which he wondered if she were +not, on her part, trying to forget him, and occasionally, when his +spirits sank lowest, he actually harbored the fear that her affection +might already have returned to Wambush. He recalled something he had +once heard that a woman would love a man who was unfortunate more +surely than one who was not, and this thought almost drove him mad with +jealousy, for was she not likely, through pity, to send her heart after +the exile? Now and then, in passing the hotel, he caught a glimpse of +Harriet on the veranda or at the window, but she always turned away, as +if she wished to avoid meeting him, and this pained him, too, for she +had become his very life, and such cold encounters were like permanent +steps towards losing her forever, which, somehow, had never quite +shaped itself into a possibility in his mind. + +It was a warm day in the middle of November, Westerfelt and Washburn +stood at the stable waiting for the hack, which, once a day, brought +the mail and passengers from Darley. It had come down the winding red +clay road and stopped at the hotel before going on to the stable. + +"I see a woman on the back seat," remarked Washburn. "Wonder why she +didn't git out at the hotel." + +In a moment the hack was in front of the stable, and Budd Ridly, the +driver, had sprung down and was helping a woman out on the opposite +side. When she had secured her shawl and little carpet-bag, she walked +round the hack and came towards Westerfelt. + +It was Sue Dawson. She wore the same black cotton bonnet and gown, now +faded and soiled, that she had worn at her daughter's funeral. + +"Howdy' do?" she said, giving him the ends of her fingers, and resting +her carpet-bag on her hip. "I _'lowed_ you'd be glad to see me." +There was a malicious gleam in her little blue eyes, and her withered +face was hard and pale and full of desperate purpose. + +"How do you do?" he replied. + +She smiled as she slowly scrutinized him. + +"Well, you _don't_ look as if you wus livin' on a bed of ease exactly," +she said, in a tone of satisfaction; "you've been handled purty rough, +I reckon, fer a dandified feller like you, but--" She stopped suddenly +and glanced at Washburn, who was staring at her in surprise, then went +on: "Budd Ridly couldn't change a five-dollar bill, an' he 'lowed I +might settle my fare with the proprietor uv the shebang. Don't blame +Budd; I tol' 'im I wus well acquainted with the new stableman; an' I +am, I reckon, ef _any_body is. I had business over heer," she went on, +as she got out her old-fashioned pocket-book and fumbled it with +trembling fingers. "I couldn't attend to it by writin'; some'n's gone +wrong with the mails; it looks like I cayn't git no answers to the +letters I write." + +Washburn took the money and went into the office for the change. + +"I didn't see what good it would do to write, Mrs. Dawson," said +Westerfelt; "maybe it was wrong for me not to, but I've had a lot to +bear; and you--" + +"_That_ you have," she interrupted, her face hardening, as she looked +across the ploughed fields, bordered by strips of yellow broom-sedge, +towards the pine forests in the west. "You wus cut bad, I heer, an' +laid up fer a week ur so, an' then the skeer them Whitecaps give you on +top of it must a' been awful to a proud sperit like yore'n; but even +sech as that will wear off _in time_. But nothin' _human_, John +Westerfelt--nothin' _human_ kin fetch back the dead. Sally's place is +unoccupied. I'm doin' her work every day, an' her dressin' an' pore +little Sunday fixin's is all still a-hangin' on the wall. She wus the +only gal--" + +Washburn came back with the change. The old woman's thin hands +quivered as she took the coin and slowly counted the pieces into her +pocket-book, Washburn suspected from the expression of Westerfelt's +face that the conversation was of a private nature, so he went out to +the hack to help Budd unharness the horses. + +"No," went on the old woman, sternly, "you've brought about a pile o' +misery in yore life, John Westerfelt, an' you hain't a-gwine to throw +it off like a ol' coat, an' dance an' make merry. You may try that +game; but yore day is over; you already bear the mark of it in yore +face an' sunk cheeks. You've got another gal on yore string by this +time, too." + +"You are mistaken, Mrs. Dawson." + +"How about the one at the hotel that nussed you through yore sick +spell?" + +"There is nothing between us." He hesitated, then added: "Nothing at +all, nor there never will be." + +"_You_ say thar hain't, but that don't prove it. I want to lay eyes on +_her_; I can tell ef you have been up to yore old tricks when I see +'er. Ef she's got a purty face you have." + +He made no reply. + +She hitched her burden up on her left hip and curved her body to the +right. "I'm a-gwine to put up thar, an' I'll see. The Bradleys 'll +think quar ef I don't put up with them, I reckon; but I'm gwine to try +hotellin' fer once. Right now it's in my line uv business. +Good-mornin'; I don't owe you anything--nothin' in the money way, I +mean. Ah! you think I'm a devil, I reckon; well, you made me what I +am. I'm yore work, John Westerfelt!" + +He stood in the stable door and watched the little bent figure walk +away. He saw her pass the cottages, the store, the bar, and enter the +hotel; then he went through the stable into the back yard and stood +against the wall in the warm sunlight. He didn't want Washburn to come +to him just then with any questions about business. A sudden, +startling fear had come to him. He was going to lose Harriet now, and +through Mrs. Dawson, and it would be the just consequences of his early +indiscretion. + + + + +Chapter XVI + +As the old woman entered the hotel she saw no one. Looking into the +parlor, and seeing it empty, she went down the hall to the rear of the +house. The door of the dining-room was open. Mrs. Floyd was there +arranging some jars of preserves in the cupboard, and turned at the +sound of the slip-shod feet. + +"Good-morning," Mrs. Floyd said; "won't you have a seat?" + +Mrs. Dawson put her shawl and carpetbag on a chair. "I want to put up +heer to-night," she said. "I never put up at a tavern in my life, an' +I'm a sorter green hand at it. I reckon you could tell that by lookin' +at me." + +"We are pretty full," said Mrs. Floyd; "but we will manage to make a +place for you somehow. My daughter will show you a room. Oh, Harriet!" + +"Yes, mother." Harriet came in from the kitchen. She had overheard +the conversation. Mrs. Dawson eyed her critically and slowly from head +to foot. + +"This lady wants to stop with us," said Mrs. Floyd; "show her to the +little room upstairs." + +Harriet took the carpet-bag. "Do you want to go up now?" + +"I reckon I mought as well." + +Harriet preceded her to a little room at the head of the stairs. The +girl was drawing up the window-shade to let light into the room when +the old woman spoke. "You are the gal that nussed John Westerfelt +through his spell, I reckon," she said. + +Harriet turned to her in surprise. "Yes, he was with us," she replied. +"Do you know him?" + +"A sight better 'n you do, I'm a-thinkin'," Mrs. Dawson seated herself, +took off her bonnet, and began nervously folding it on her knee. "But +not better 'n you _will_, ef you don't mind what yo're about." + +Harriet flushed in mingled embarrassment and anger. Without replying, +she started to leave the room, but Mrs. Dawson caught the skirt of her +dress and detained her. + +"You don't know who I am. I had a daughter--" + +"I know all about it." Harriet jerked her skirt from the old woman's +hand and looked angrily into her face. "She drowned herself because he +didn't love her. I do know who you are; you are a devil disguised as a +woman! He may have caused your daughter's death, but he did not do it +intentionally, but you--you would murder him in cold blood if you +could. You have come all the way over here to drive him to +desperation. You--you are a bad woman. I mean it!" + +For a moment Mrs. Dawson was thrown entirely off her guard by the +unexpected attack. She rose and stretched out a quivering hand for her +carpet-bag, which she had put on the bed. She shifted it excitedly +from one hand to the other, and looked towards the door. + +"Yo're jest one more uv his fool victims, I kin see that," she gasped. +"He's the deepest, blackest scoundrel on the face of the earth!" + +Harriet's eyes flashed. "He's the best man I ever saw, and has had +more to put up with. You've come over here to persecute him; but you +sha'n't stay in this house. Get right out; we don't want you!" + +"Why, Harriet, what on _earth_ do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Floyd, +suddenly entering the room. + +Harriet pointed at Mrs. Dawson. "This woman has come over here to +worry the life out of Mr. Westerfelt because he didn't marry her +daughter. She wrote threatening letters to him while he was at death's +door, and is doing her best now to drive him crazy. She sha'n't stay +under this roof while I am here. You know I mean exactly what I say, +mother. She goes or I do. Take your choice!" + +"Mr. Westerfelt has had a lot of trouble," began Mrs. Floyd, wondering +what it could all be about; "everybody here is in sympathy with him. +We are all liable to mistakes; surely you can pardon him if--" + +"Not while I'm above ground," shrieked the old woman. She dropped her +bag, then picked it up awkwardly, and started to leave by a door which +opened into another room. She burst into hysterical weeping when Mrs. +Floyd caught her arm to detain her. "Not while I'm alive an' have my +senses," she went on, in sobs and piping tones. "I'll hound him to his +grave. I wouldn't stay heer over night to save my life. I'd ruther +sleep in a hay-stack ur in a barn-loft." + +Harriet turned her white, rigid face to the window, and stood between +the parted curtains as still as a statue. Mrs. Floyd tried again to +detain the old woman, but she flounced out of the room and thumped +down-stairs. + + +The next morning a young girl came into the village by one of the +mountain roads. Her face was sad and troubled, and she looked as if +she had walked a long distance. She was poorly dressed, and her shoes +were coarse and coated with dust, but her face was pretty and sweet. + +In front of the meeting-house she stopped and sat down on a log near +the road-side. When people passed she would draw her sun-bonnet over +her face and turn her head from them. Suddenly she rose and trudged on +to the post-office. + +It was a busy day at Cartwright, and the little porch was filled with +loungers. Old Jim Hunter was there with his long-barrelled rifle and a +snarling opossum, the tail of which was held between the prongs of a +split stick. When the animal showed a disposition to bite anybody, or +crawl away, he subdued it instantly by turning the stick and twisting +its tail. Joe Longfield had come with a basket of eggs packed in +cotton-seed to exchange for their value in coffee, and the two wags +were entertaining the crowd with jokes at the expense of each other. + +As the girl passed into the store Martin Worthy was weighing a pail of +butter for a countryman in a slouch hat and a suit of brown jeans. She +returned his nod and went to the little pen in the corner in which the +mail was kept. + +"I cayn't 'low you but ten cents a pound for yore butter," Worthy said +to the man. "Yore women folks never _will_ work the water out, an' +it's al'ays puffy an' white. Town people don't want sech truck. It +has to be firm and yaller. Look what the Beeson gals fetch once a +week. I gladly pay 'em fifteen fer it." He uncovered a pile of firm +golden balls and struck them with his paddle. "Any woman can make sech +butter ef they won't feed the cows cotton-seed an' will take 'nough +trouble." + +When the man had joined the group outside, Worthy came from behind the +counter into the pen, wiping his hands on a sheet of brown paper. + +"I don't think thar's a thing fer any o' yore folks, Miss Hettie," he +said to the girl, "but I'll look jest to satisfy you." He took a +bundle of letters from a pigeon-hole and ran them hurriedly through his +hands. "Not a thing," he concluded, putting the letters back; "jest as +I thought." + +She paused for a moment as if about to ask a question. She put a thin +hand on the cover of a sugar-barrel, and looked at him timidly from the +depths of her bonnet as he came out of the pen, but she said nothing. +As she started to go, her skirt caught on a sliver of the barrel, and, +as she stooped to unfasten it, she almost fell forward. But she +recovered herself and went out of the door towards the hitching-rack in +front, paused, and looked back at the road over which she had come. + +"Don't seem to know exactly whar she _does_ want to go," remarked Jim +Hunter, breaking the silence which had followed her departure from the +store. "Who is she, anyway?" + +"Oz Fergerson's daughter Hettie," replied Worthy, leaning against the +door-jamb. "She don't look overly well; I reckon that's why she quit +workin' at the hotel. She's dyin' to git a letter from some'rs; she +comes reg'lar every day an' goes away powerfully disappointed." + +"Never seed her before as I know of," said Longfield, handing Worthy +his basket of eggs. + +The girl suddenly turned down the sidewalk. She passed Mrs. Webb's +cottage and the bar and went into the hotel. Mrs. Floyd met her at the +door. + +"Mis' Floyd, I want to see Harriet," she said. + +"She's up-stairs," replied Mrs. Floyd. "I'll call her; but you'd +better go in to the fire." + +The girl shook her head and muttered something Mrs. Floyd could not +understand, so she left her in the hall. + +Mrs. Floyd found Harriet in her room. "Hettie Fergerson is down-stairs +and wants to see you," she said. "She still acts very strange. I +asked her to go into the parlor, but she wouldn't." + +"How do you do, Hettie?" said Harriet, as she came down the steps. +"Come into the parlor; you look cold." + +The girl hesitated, but finally followed Harriet into the warm room. +They sat down before the fire, and there was an awkward silence for +several minutes, then the visitor suddenly pushed back her bonnet and +said, in a hard, desperate tone: + +"Where is Toot Wambush, Harriet?" + +Harriet looked at her in surprise for an instant, then she answered: + +"Why, Hettie, how could I know? Nobody in Cartwright does now, I +reckon." + +"I thought _you_ might." Both girls were silent for a moment, then the +visitor looked apprehensively over her shoulder at the door. "Is yore +ma coming in here?" + +"No; she's busy in the kitchen; do you want to see her?" + +"No." The girl spoke quickly and moved uneasily. + +"You came to see me?" + +"I come to see _some_body--oh, Harriet, I'm so miserable! You didn't +suspicion it, Harriet, but I'm afraid that man has made a plumb fool of +me. I haven't slept hardly one wink since they driv' 'im off. I--" +She put her hand to her eyes, and as she paused Harriet thought she was +crying, but a moment later, when she removed her hand, her eyes were +dry. + +"Why did you come to--to see me, Hettie?" questioned Harriet. + +"Because," was the slow-coming reply, "I thought maybe he had wrote +back to you." + +"He has never written to me, Hettie--never a line." + +The face of the girl brightened. "Then you ain't engaged to him, _are_ +you, Harriet?" + +"The idea! of course not." + +"Oh, I'm mighty glad of that," exclaimed the visitor. "You see, I'm +such a fool about him I got jealous. Oh, Harriet, there ain't no use +in me tryin' to deceive myself; I know he would marry you at the drop +of a hat if you'd have him. I know that, and still I am crazy about +him. I ain't much to blame, Harriet, if I am foolish. He made me so, +an' 'most any pore, lonely girl like I am would care for a good-looking +man like he is. Oh, Harriet, it is awfully humiliating to have to +think it, but I believe the reason he treats me like he does is that I +showed him too plainly how much I loved him." + +"I did not suspect till the other day," said Harriet, to avoid that +point, "that he was paying you any particular attention. Mother told +me he often drove you out home." + +"Oh, la, that ain't a circumstance, Harriet! He used to come out home +mighty nigh every day or night. Pa an' ma think he is a regular +prince. You know he swore pa out of a big whiskey scrape in Atlanta, +and since then pa and him has been mighty thick. They thought all +along that Toot wanted to marry me, and it made 'em mighty proud, and +then it began to look like he was settin' up to you. That's why I quit +staying here, Harriet. I couldn't be around you so much and know--or +think, as I did, that he was beginning to love you." + +"I don't think," protested Harriet, "that he was ever deeply interested +in me. You must not think that. In fact, I believe now, Hettie, that +you and he will be happily married some day--if he ever gets out of his +trouble." + +Hettie drew in her breath quickly and held it, raising a glad glance to +the speaker's face. + +"Why do you think so, Harriet?--oh, you are just saying this to make me +feel better." + +Harriet deliberated for a moment, then she said: "He was here the night +they run him off--the night they all took Mr. Westerfelt out. Mother +and I had a long talk with him. Mother talked straight to him about +flirting with you, and told him what a good, nice girl you were, and--" + +"Oh, did she, Harriet? I could hug her for it!" + +"Yes, and he talked real nice about you, too, and admitted he had acted +wrong. Hettie, I believe in time that he'll come back and ask you to +marry him. I believe that in the bottom of my heart." + +The countenance of the visitor was now aglow with hope. + +"Maybe he will--maybe he will," she said. "I was afraid I let him see +too plain that I was a fool about him, but some men like that, I +reckon; he always seemed to come oftener. Harriet, one thing has +worried the life nearly out of me. I heard Frank Hansard say a young +man never would think as much of a girl after she let him kiss her. +I'm no hypocrite--I'm anything else; but as much as I'd love to have a +young man I cared for kiss me, I'd die in my tracks before I'd let 'im +put his arm around me if I thought it would make 'im think less of me. +Do you reckon" (she was avoiding Harriet's eyes)--"do you think that +would make any difference with Toot--I mean, with any young man?" + +Harriet smiled in spite of the look of gravity in Hettie's eyes. + +"Some men might be that way," she finally said, consolingly--she was +thinking of the innate coarseness of Hettie's lover--"but I don't think +Mr. Wambush is. That was one of the first things my mother ever taught +me. She told me she'd learned it by experience when she was a girl. I +don't pretend to be better than other girls, but I've always made men +keep their distance." + +Hettie shrugged her shoulders, as if to throw off some unpleasant idea. + +"Oh, I don't care. I'd do it over again. Lord, I couldn't help it. I +love him so, and he is so sweet and good when he tries to be. He +thinks I'm all right, too, in some ways. He says I'm just the girl to +marry a dare-devil like he is. Did you ever know it was me that helped +get him away from the revenue men the night he had a barrel o' whiskey +on his wagon?" Hettie laughed impulsively, and her graceful little +body shook all over. + +"Mother thought you had a hand in it," answered Harriet, with an +appreciative smile. + +"It was fun," giggled Hettie. "Toot drove nipitytuck down the street +from the Hawkbill as fast as he could lick it, and them a-gallopin' +after 'im. I had been on the front porch talkin' to his father, who +was anxious about 'im and wanted to see 'im. Toot pulled up at the +side gate an' said: 'No use, Het, damn it; I can't make it, and they'll +know my horse and wagon an' prove it on me.' Then I thought what to +do; the men wasn't in sight back there in the woods. Quicker 'n +lightnin', I made Toot push the whiskey across the porch into the +kitchen an' shet the door, an' when the revenue men stopped at the gate +Toot was settin' up as cool as a cucumber in his wagon talkin' to me +over the fence. I think he was asking me to get in the wagon and go +out home with him. I never seed--saw 'im so scared, though, in my +life; but la me! it was fun to me, an' I had more lies on my tongue 'n +a dog has fleas. + +"'Did you have a barrel on that wagon a minute ago?' one of the two men +asked. + +"'What'n the hell are you talkin' about?' asked Toot. 'I haven't +seed--seen no barrel.'" Hettie was trying to speak correctly, but the +spirit of the narrative ran away with her meagre ideas of grammar. + +"'Oh,' said I, 'you've got the wrong sow by the ear; a wagon went +whizzin' by here a minute ago like it was shot out of a gun.' + +"'Which way?' the officer asked, rippin' out an oath that 'u'd a-took +the prize at a cussin'-bee. + +"I pointed down the road and said: 'I hear it a-clatterin' now,' and +off they galloped. Well, Toot soon loaded the whiskey again and drove +off up the mountain, but he's laughed about that a hundred times and +told the moonshiners about it. Whenever I meet one in the road--I know +the last one of 'em--they ask me if I've seen a whiskey wagon anywheres +about. Harriet," she added, more soberly, "you've give me a sight of +comfort. Now tell me about you-know-who. Toot told me the last time +he was at our house that he knowed you were gone on that new feller. +I'm sorry they fit, but he had no business refusin' to credit Toot. +Nobody else ever did the like, and it was calculated to rile him, +especially when he was full an' loaded for bear, as folks say. How are +you and him makin' out, Harriet?" + +Harriet's face had taken on a sober look, and she hesitated before +replying; finally she said: + +"There is nothing between us, Hettie, and I'd rather not talk about +him." + +"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" the other exclaimed. "He is such a good-looking +man, and so many thought you and him would come to a understanding. +They say a girl gets a mighty good whack at a man when he is laid up +flat of his back. I never have tried it, but it looks reasonable." + +Then Hettie rose. "I'm goin' to stay to dinner with you all," she +said, "and I'm going out now to help yore ma. Pore woman, she looked +dead tired jest now!" + +A few minutes later Mrs. Floyd came to Harriet, who was still seated in +the parlor, an expression of deep thought on her face. + +"Harriet," said the old lady, wiping her damp hands on her apron, +"Hettie has gone to work washing dishes in there like a house a-fire. +I declare she's a big help; as soon as she comes about I feel rested, +for I know she won't leave a thing undone. What have you been saying +to her? I never saw her so cheerful. She's been runnin' on in the +kitchen like a fifteen-year-old child. I declare I can't keep from +liking her. You must a-told her some'n about Toot Wambush." + +"I did," admitted Harriet. "Mother, I've been standing in her way. I +believe he likes her, and will marry her now that I have given him his +last answer." + +"Do you really, daughter?" + +"Yes, I think he will--I'm almost sure of it, and I just had to tell +her so, she looked so down-hearted." + +Mrs. Floyd laid her hand on Harriet's head and smiled. + +"You deserve to be happy, too, daughter, and somehow I feel like you +are going to be. Mr. Westerfelt is nobody's fool; he knows you're +sweet and good, and--" + +"I don't want to talk about him, mother," Harriet said, firmly, as she +rose. "I think we ought to keep Hettie a few days; she'd like to be +near the post-office, I know." + +"Well, the Lord knows I'm willing," consented Mrs. Floyd, as she +followed her daughter to the kitchen. + + + + +Chapter XVII + +Sue Dawson leaned on the front gate at the Bradleys'. + +"Hello! Hello! Hello! in thar!" she cried, in a shrill, piping voice. +No one replied. "I'm a good mind to go in anyway," she thought. "I +reckon they hain't got no bitin' dog." She raised the iron ring from +the post and drew the sagging gate through the grooves worn in the +pebbly ground and entered the yard. The front and back doors were +open, and she could see a portion of the back yard through the hall. + +No one seemed to be in the house. A young chicken had hopped up the +back steps, crossed the entry, and was stalking about in the hall +chirping hollowly, as if bewildered by its surroundings. Across the +rear door a sudden gust of wind blew a wisp of smoke, and then it +occurred to Mrs. Dawson that some one might be in the back yard. She +drove the chicken before her as she stalked through the hall. + +Martha Bradley was making soap. With her back to the house, she was +stirring a boiling mixture of grease and lye in a large wash-pot. +Under the eaves of the kitchen stood an ash-hopper, from the bottom of +which trickled a tiny amber stream. + +"Howdy, Marthy?" said Mrs. Dawson, behind Mrs. Bradley's back. "It was +so still in the house, I 'lowed you wus all dead an' buried." + +Mrs. Bradley turned and dropped her paddle. "Why, ef it hain't Mis' +Dawson, as I'm alive! Whar on earth are you bound fer?" + +"Jest come over fer a day ur so," was the reply. "I thought some o' +stoppin' at the hotel, but, on second thought, I 'lowed you an' Luke +mought think strange ef I did, so heer I am." + +"I've al'ays got room fer a old neighbor, an' you'd a-been lonely at +the hotel. I'm glad you come, but--" Mrs. Bradley took up her paddle +and began to stir the contents of the pot. "I reckon, I ortter tell +you, plain, Mis' Dawson, that John Westerfelt is stayin' with us. +We've got plenty o' room fer you both, but I thought it mought not be +exactly agreeable fer you." + +A spiteful fire kindled in Mrs. Dawson's eyes. "It mought upset _him_ +a little speck, Marthy, but I hain't done nothin' to be ashamed uv +myse'f." + +Mrs. Bradley went to the ash-hopper and filled a dipper with lye and +poured it into the pot. Then she wiped her hands on her apron. "John +Westerfelt's had enough trouble to kill a ordinary man, Mis' Dawson," +she said, "an' I'm his friend to the backbone; ef you've got any +ill-will agin 'im, don't mention it to me. Besides, now would be a +good time fer you to show Christian forbearance. He's been +thoughtless, but heer lately he is a changed man, an' I believe he's +tryin' his level best to do right in God's sight. He's had a peck o' +trouble in one way or another over heer, but, in addition to that, I'm +mistaken ef he don't suffer in secret day and night." + +"You don't say," cried Mrs. Dawson, eagerly. "I 'lowed he wus cuttin' +a wide swath over heer." + +"Never was a bigger mistake. He don't visit a single gal in the place. +He neglects his business, an' spends most o' his time in the woods +pretendin' to hunt, but he seldom fetches back a thing, and you know he +used to be the best shot at the beef matches. Luke thinks his mind is +turned a little bit. Luke happened to go 'long the Shader Rock road +t'other day an' seed John lyin' flat o' his back in the woods. He +passed 'im twice inside of a hour, an' he hadn't moved a peg. No +healthy minded man don't carry on that way, Mis' Dawson." + +"Hain't he a-settin' up to that hotel gal?" Mrs. Bradley turned towards +the house with her guest. "No, he hain't," she answered. "She nussed +him when he wus down, an'--well, maybe she does kinder fancy _him_ a +little--any natcherl girl would--I don't say she _does_ nor _doesn't_, +but he hain't been to see 'er, to my knowledge, a single time, nur has +never tuk her out to any o' the parties. No, thar's nothin' twixt 'em; +she tried to git 'im to come stay at the hotel when he wus sick atter +the Whitecap outrage, an' I thought she acted a little for'ard then, +but he refused an' come to us instead." + +"You don't say so; why, I heerd--" + +"A body kin always heer more about a thing fur off than right whar it +happens," concluded Mrs. Bradley. They were now in the sitting-room, +and Mrs. Dawson took off her bonnet and shawl. Mrs. Bradley put some +pieces of pine under the smouldering logs in the fireplace and swept +the hearth. + +That night when Westerfelt came home supper was on the table. He was +surprised to see the visitor, but she did not notice him and he said +nothing to her. The meal passed awkwardly. Luke made an effort to +keep up the conversation with her by asking about his friends in her +neighborhood, but her replies were in a low tone and short, and he +finally gave up the attempt. + +Westerfelt rose from the table before any of the others and left the +house. As he turned from the gate to go to the stable, he looked +through the window and saw Mrs. Dawson move her chair to the fire. He +paused and leaned against the fence. The firelight shone in the old +woman's face; it was sad and careworn. Somehow she reminded him of his +mother, as she had looked a short time before she died. He started on +slowly, but came back again to the same spot. Luke wiped his mouth on +the corner of the table-cloth, rose from the table, and went out at the +back door. Westerfelt heard his merry whistle at the barn. Mrs. +Bradley filled a large pan with dishes and took them into the kitchen. +Mrs. Dawson bent over the fire. Something in the curve of her back and +the trembling way she held her hands to the blaze made him think again +of his mother. He hesitated a moment, then, lifting the ring from the +post, he pushed the gate open and went round the house and into the +kitchen. + +In a corner dimly lighted by a tallow-dip, and surrounded by pans, +pots, and cooking utensils, Mrs. Bradley stood washing dishes. She +turned when he entered. + +"Why," she exclaimed, "I--I thought you'd gone; what are you comin' in +the back way fer?" + +"I've got something to say to--to her," he said, in a low tone. "I +thought I'd ask you to stay out here for a minute--I won't be long." + +She said nothing for a moment, but looked at him strangely, as she +slowly dried her hands on a dish-towel. Then she burst out impulsively: + +"John Westerfelt, ef Luke wusn't so particular 'bout my conduct with +men, I'd kiss you smack dab in the mouth an' hug you; no wonder women +make fools of the'rse'ves about you. Ef anybody ever dares agin to say +anything agin yore character to me, I'll--" + +She choked up, turned to the corner, and dived into her dishpan, and he +saw only her back. He went into the next room. Mrs. Dawson's dull +glance was fixed on the coals under the logs. She started when she +looked up and saw him behind her, and shrank from him in a pitiful +blending of fright and questioning astonishment as he drew a chair near +to hers and sat down. + +"What do you want, man?" she asked, looking towards the kitchen door, +as if she hoped Mrs. Bradley would appear. + +"I want to talk to you, Mrs. Dawson," he said. "I don't want you to +hate me any longer. I am awfully sorry for you; I did you a big +injury, but I didn't do it on purpose. I did not dream it would end +like it did. I have suffered over it night and day. It will stick to +me the rest of my life." + +The old woman was rapidly regaining her self-possession and with it her +hatred of him; her eyes flashed in the firelight. The sad expression +he had surprised on her face was gone. + +"She's in 'er grave," she snarled. "Give 'er back an' I'll git down on +my knees to you, as much as I hate you!" + +"You know I'm helpless to undo what's been done," he said, regretfully. + +"Well, take yorese'f out'n my sight then. You've made a' ol' woman +perfectly miserable; go on an' marry, an' be happy, ef you kin." + +"I never expect to be that. I've repented of my conduct a thousand +times. I have suffered as much as God ought to make a man suffer for a +wrong deed." + +"Not as much as me, an' I hain't guilty o' no crime nuther." + +"I've humbly begged your forgiveness. I can do no more." He rose +slowly, despondently. + +"Git out'n my sight, you vagabond!" Mrs. Dawson's voice rose till the +last word ended in a shriek. + +Footsteps were heard in the kitchen, the door opened, and Mrs. Bradley +strode in, her face aflame. Westerfelt stepped towards her and put his +hands on her shoulders. + +"Don't say anything," he said; "for God's sake, pity her." + +"I cayn't stand it," she blurted out, half crying; "she's gwine +entirely too fur!" She pushed his hands down and stood glaring at Mrs. +Dawson. + +"Look a heer, Sue Dawson," she said, getting her breath fast, "yo're a +older woman an' me, an' I've got due respect fer age an' a gray head, +but John Westerfelt is my friend, an' is a-visitin' of me 'n' Luke at +present. You are welcome in my house ef you'll behave yorese'f decent, +but you cayn't come under my roof to goad him to desperation. Now I've +said my say. Thar's the door ef you dare open yore mouth agin. Thar +ain't a speck o' Christian sperit in you. I'm ashamed to call you +neighbor." + +With an expression of mingled anger and fear in her face, Mrs. Dawson +looked at her hostess, and without a word rose stiffly and went to the +bed, on which lay her shawl, carpet-bag, and bonnet. Her face was to +the wall as she drew her bonnet on and began to tie the strings. + +"I'll go out the back way," whispered Westerfelt to Mrs. Bradley; "for +God's sake, don't let her go!" + +"All right," promised Mrs. Bradley; "go on. I'll make 'er stay, I +reckon, but she's as stubborn as a mule." + +He went through the kitchen, round the house, and out at the gate. He +stopped, leaned against the fence, and watched the two women through +the window. Mrs. Dawson had put on her shawl. She held her bag in +front of her, and stood in the centre of the room. Mrs. Bradley leaned +against the mantel-piece. Their lips moved, and Mrs. Dawson was +gesticulating furiously, but he could not hear their voices. Suddenly +Mrs. Bradley took the bag from the old woman and put it on the bed. +Then she untied Mrs. Dawson's bonnet-strings, took off the bonnet and +shawl, and drew her back to the fire. They stood talking for a moment, +then sat down together. Mrs. Bradley, holding the shawl and bonnet in +her lap, put her arm round the old woman. Mrs. Dawson began fumbling +in the pocket of her dress. She got out her handkerchief and held it +to her face, then Mrs. Bradley began to wipe her own eyes on the corner +of her apron. + +"My God!" groaned Westerfelt, as he turned away, "this is more than I +can bear!" + +The next day was Sunday. It was as bright and balmy as spring. +Westerfelt slept late. When he went in to breakfast Mrs. Bradley told +him that Mrs. Dawson was out at the barn with Luke. They all intended +to go to camp-meeting that day, she said. A revival had been going on +at the meeting-house for the past week, and the congregation had +increased so much that the little building would no longer hold the +people. It had, therefore, been announced that the Sunday service +would be held at Stone Hill Camp-ground, two miles from the village on +the most picturesque of the Cohutta Valley roads. + +As Westerfelt went down to the stable after breakfast he saw wagons, +hacks, and old-fashioned carriages standing at nearly every gate on the +street. Washburn and a colored boy, Jake, were at the stable busy +washing and oiling the wheels of vehicles and currying horses. + +"I wus jest about to send up to you," was Washburn's greeting. +"Turnouts are at a premium to-day. I didn't know whether to let out +yore own hoss an' buggy or not; two or three fellers that want to take +the'r girls are offerin' any price fer some'n to ride in." + +"I am going myself." + +"Hossback ur buggy?" + +"Buggy." Westerfelt turned suddenly and walked back towards the hotel. +He had decided to invite Harriet Floyd to go to camp-meeting with him, +let the consequences be what they might. He wanted to see her, and +nothing should prevent it--not even Mrs. Dawson's presence in the +village nor her threats. + +As Westerfelt walked away Washburn said to himself; "It u'd be tough on +'im ef Bascom Bates is ahead of 'im, after all his hangin' back. By +George! I can't imagine who else Bates could 'a' intended to ask; he's +give up goin' to Hansard's. I'll bet my hat Bates means business with +Miss Harriet." + +Westerfelt walked into the parlor of the hotel. A colored girl was +sweeping the carpet and went out to tell Harriet that he wished to see +her. Harriet didn't keep him waiting long. On rising she had dressed +for church. She wore a pretty gray gown with a graceful bow of ribbon +at her throat, and carried her cloak on her arm. She put it on the +sofa as she entered. She was agitated, and he felt her hand quiver +when he took it. + +"I came to ask you to drive to the camp-ground with me," he said, as +her hand slid out of his; "will you go?" + +"Why--why," she stammered, "I--I--promised to go with Mr. Bates; I'm +very sorry; if I had known--" + +He glanced through the open door; his face had suddenly grown cold, +hard, and suspicious. He was jealous even of a man she had never been +with before. She sank into a chair and looked up at him helplessly, +appealingly. She knew he was jealous, and in that proof of his love +her heart went out to him. + +"Oh, it don't matter," he said, quickly. "I'm going to drive out +myself anyway, and I thought if you had nobody to take you, you might +like to go 'long." + +"He asked me yesterday," she faltered. Her voice was full of startled +concern. "I'd rather go with you, you know I had. I have never gone +with him anywhere. We are almost strangers. I--I would hardly know +how to talk to him." + +She knew it was not with his natural voice that Westerfelt answered. +"Well," he said, coldly, "you can't go with two fellows, and he got to +you first. I reckon Bates knows the roads; you'd better take the +river-bottom route. Washburn says the other is not as good as it might +be. Good-bye." + +He had reached the veranda when she called him back. As he re-entered +the room she rose and stepped towards him. + +"Are you mad with me, Mr. Westerfelt?" + +He was ashamed of himself, but he could not conquer his horrible humor. +"Not in the least; I don't blame you." His tone was still cold and his +glance averted. She put her handkerchief to her face in vexation, but +removed it quickly as she caught his glance. + +"I'll not go; I'll stay at home," she affirmed. + +"No, go; you'd never hear the end of it if you were to slight Bates." + +"Shall I see you out there?" + +"I reckon not," he laughed, harshly. "I never want anybody bothering +me when I take a girl anywhere, and I try to obey the Golden Rule with +other men. You belong to Bates to-day." He left the room. She heard +him stride across the veranda and walk hurriedly away. She went to the +window and tried to catch another glimpse of him, but he was out of +sight. She turned into the next room. Her mother was there packing +some table linen into the bottom of a wardrobe. + +"Mother," the girl faltered, "Mr. Westerfelt asked me just now to go to +the camp-ground with him." + +Mrs. Floyd let a table-cloth which she was folding hang down in front +of her for a moment as she looked at Harriet. "Well, you told him you +was going with Bascom Bates, didn't you?" + +"Yes, of course, but--" + +"Well, what of it? I wish you'd just look what a mess the rats have +gone and made of this linen. They've been trying to gnaw the starch +out of it, and have cut holes in nearly every piece." + +"He looked mad, mother; he pretended he didn't care, but I never saw +such a look on anybody's face. Oh, mother--" + +"Harriet!" Mrs. Floyd looked straight into the girl's eyes as she +closed the wardrobe door and turned the key. "Looky' here, I'm older +than you, and I know men a sight better. Mr. Westerfelt is a nice man +and a good enough catch, but he's got plenty of faults. You've just +got to listen to reason. Some men will despise a girl quicker for +letting themselves be run over than anything else, and he's one of that +sort. He has deliberately insulted you by throwing up a delicate +matter to you, which God knows you couldn't help, and now--well, he's a +purty thing to dictate to you who you go with--" + +"Mother, something was wrong with his mind when he said that," +interrupted Harriet. "He's just gettin' well, that's all. Oh, mother, +he loves me--I know he does--I know it! I'll bet he hardly remembers +what he said. And now this old Bascom Bates has come between us." + +Mrs. Floyd was moved, in spite of her desire to hold her ground. + +"Yes," she admitted, "I think he acts like he loves you, and after +staying away so long, his wanting to go with you to-day looks powerful +like he has come to his senses at last. But you will spoil it all if +you slight another respectable man to please him. That's the long and +short of it. Now, you take my advice and give him as good as he sends +every time, and a little more to boot. It's a woman's right." + +"Mother, you don't know Mr. Westerfelt; he--" + +"La! yes, I do; they are every one p'int-blank alike. They want what +they can't get, and what other men have, a sight more than what is in +easy reach. If you've got any gumption, you'll make him think you are +having a mighty good time with Bascom Bates to-day. If Bascom keeps +coming to see you it will make him think all the more of you, too. +Bates belongs to mighty nigh as good stock as he does anyway, and folks +say he is the sharpest trader and note-shaver in the county. Ef you +don't encourage him to come regular I shall do it for you. And if I +ever get a chance I'll throw out a hint to Westerfelt that you have a +little leaning towards the law anyway." + +"I don't want you to do that, mother," objected Harriet, quite +seriously. + +Mrs. Floyd laughed slyly as she turned away. "You leave them two Jakes +to me. I feel like I was a girl again. We used to have lots o' fun +with Mr. Floyd, me 'n' mother did. Did I ever tell you the time me'n' +her--" But Harriet, with a preoccupied air, had turned away. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + +Westerfelt went back to the stable and ordered Jake to get out his +horse and buggy. Washburn watched him over the back of the mule he was +hitching to a spring wagon and smiled. "Got it in the neck that pop!" +he murmured. "I knowed Bates wusn't a-buyin' a new whip an' lap-robe +fer nothin'. I'll bet my life Mr. Westerfelt 'll lose that gal, an', +by George, he ort to! He don't seem to know his own mind." + +Just then Bascom Bates whirled by on his way to the hotel. There was +something glaringly incongruous between his glistening silk hat and the +long-haired "plough horse" and rickety buggy he was driving. The silk +hat was a sort of badge of office; lawyers wore them, as a rule, and he +was the only lawyer at Cartwright. He had bought his silk hat on the +day of his admission to the bar, and had worn it regularly on dry +Sundays ever since. It would have suited anybody else better than it +did him. He was not at all good-looking. His hair was stiff and +rather red, his eyes were pale blue, his face was freckled, and the +skin of his neck had a way of folding itself unattractively. He wore +thick cow-leather shoes, which he never blacked, but greased +frequently, and that made them catch and hold the dust. He never +considered himself carefully dressed unless all the buttons of his vest +were unfastened, except one at the top and one at the bottom. The gap +between the two buttons was considered quite a touch of rural style. +He held the reins, but a little negro boy sat on the seat beside him. +He was taking the boy to hold his horse while he went into the hotel +after Harriet. That, too, was considered quite the proper thing--a +custom which had come down from slavery days--and as there was a +scarcity of black boys in the village, Bates had brought his all the +way from his father's plantation. The boy was expected to walk back +home after the couple got started, but Bates intended to give him +something for his trouble, and the distinction of holding Mr. Bates's +horse in town was something the boy never expected to forget. + +Bates had been a common farm-boy before he studied law, and the handles +of ploughs, axes, and grubbing-hoes had enlarged the joints of his +fingers and hardened his palms. He had studied at night, earned a +reputation as an off-hand speaker hard to be downed in debating +societies, made a few speeches on the stump for willing gubernatorial +candidates, and was now looked upon as a possible Democratic nominee +for the Legislature. Most young lawyers in that part of the State were +called "Colonel," and Bates had been addressed by the title once or +twice. + +Westerfelt pretended not to see him as he passed, but he urged Jake to +hurry up and get out his horse and buggy. He had a strange idea that +it would humiliate him in Harriet's eyes to be seen by her as she +passed with a man he now regarded as a rival. He would have given much +to have had any sort of companion with him. Jake had some difficulty +in backing the horse into the shafts, and before Westerfelt could get +started, he saw Harriet come out on the veranda and follow Bates to his +buggy. However, Westerfelt managed to get started before they did, and +drove on without looking back. Knowing that Bates was fond of fast +driving, and fearing that he might overtake him, Westerfelt drove +rapidly. The fires of jealousy were raging within him. He told +himself that it would be a long time before he would ask her again to +go with him anywhere, and during that drive he almost convinced himself +that he could give her up without much regret. He was sure Bates +wanted to marry her. Such a stolid, matter-of-fact man would never +visit a girl with less serious intentions. Bates, of course, was +ignorant of the girl's early love for Wambush. He wondered if she +would ever confess to the lawyer as she had to him. He thought it +unlikely; for he had found it out and mentioned it to her first, and, +besides, her experience with him had taught her discretion. Westerfelt +would have been more generous in his estimation of her character had he +been less jealous, and less angered by the disappointment of not being +her escort. People driving slow teams looked at him curiously as he +dashed past them. He had but one desire at that moment, and that was +not to face Harriet and Bates together. + +The road, near the camp-ground, went through a dense wood, and was so +narrow that vehicles could not pass one another on it. In the +narrowest part of this road Westerfelt was forced to stop. A wagon +filled with women and children, and driven by old John Wambush, had +halted in front of him. + +"What's the matter?" Westerfelt called out to the old man, who had got +down beside his horses and was peering at the motionless line of +vehicles ahead. + +"A hack's broke down," the old fellow replied. "Nobody hurt, it seems, +but the banks on both sides is so steep that they cayn't cleer the +road. We'll have to take our time. I'd jest about as soon set heer in +my wagon as to listen to them long-winded preachers, anyway." + +Westerfelt heard the beat of hoofs behind him. He was sure Bates and +Harriet were approaching, but he dared not look around. Through the +trees came the sound of singing from the camp-ground. The horse behind +got nearer and nearer, till it stopped with its nose in the back part +of Westerfelt's buggy, Westerfelt did not turn his head. He leaned +over the dash-board and impatiently called out to old Wambush: + +"How long are they going to keep us?" + +"Tell kingdom come ur Gabriel blows his horn," laughed the old man, and +all his family and the neighbors who were sharing the hospitality of +his wagon joined in the laugh. It was a thing the old man would have +said to anybody else and in the same tone, but it irritated Westerfelt. +The silence of the couple behind convinced him that it was Bates and +Harriet, for men in love do not talk much. Mrs. Wambush turned her +head and took off her gingham bonnet to get a good look at the man her +son had tried twice to kill. Her features were so much like Toot's +that Westerfelt, who had never seen her before, thought he had +discovered the fountain-head of the young outlaw's villany. He glanced +aside, but she continued to stare at him fixedly. + +"How are you comin' on?" she asked him, slapping a little girl in a +blue homespun dress who was about to fall out of the wagon. + +"Pretty well, thank you," replied Westerfelt, coldly. He had detected +a suggestion of a sneer about the old woman's lips. + +"Cuts _is_ a bad thing," she went on. "I reckon yore doctor bill run +up to some more'n you'd 'a' lost that day by jest lettin' my boy have +some'n to ride out home in." + +"Dry up!" thundered old Wambush. He climbed back into his chair and +glared at her. "Ef you dare open yore mouth agin, I'll make you git +right out an' make tracks fer home." The old woman jerked on her +bonnet and turned her face towards the horses. Old Wambush looked over +his shoulder at Westerfelt, a sheepish look on his face. + +"Don't pay no 'tention to her," he apologized; "she's had the very old +scratch in 'er ever since Toot was run off; I don't harbor no ill-will, +but women ain't got no reason nohow. They never seem to know when +peace is declared. It's the women that's keepin' up all the strife +twixt North and South right now. Them that shouldered muskets an' fit +an' lived on hard-tack don't want no more uv it." + +Westerfelt said nothing. + +"Hello thar!" The voice was from the buggy behind. Westerfelt turned. +It was Frank Hansard with Jennie Wynn. + +"Hello!" replied Westerfelt, greatly relieved, + +"Whyn't you git down an' fight it out while we're waitin'?" jested +Frank, in a low voice. "Anything 'u'd be better'n this; but I'll tell +you, she's a regular wild-cat, if you don't know it." + +Westerfelt smiled, but made no response. Beyond Hansard's buggy was +another, and in it sat Harriet and Bates; there was no mistaking the +old-fashioned silk hat and Harriet's gray dress. It seemed to +Westerfelt that the blood in his veins stopped at the sight of the +couple sitting so close together. + +"Can you see who's behind us?" asked Jennie, mischievously. "It's +undoubtedly a case; they've been connoodlin' all the way an' didn't +even have the politeness to speak to us as we passed 'em in the big +road." + +Westerfelt pretended not to hear. Old Wambush's wagon had started. +The camp-ground was soon reached. As Westerfelt was hitching his horse +to a tree, he could not help seeing Bates and Harriet in the bushes not +far away. Bates was taking his horse out of the shafts and looping up +the traces, and she stood looking on. Westerfelt knew that Jake or +Washburn would attend to his horse, so he walked on to the spot where +the service was to be held. + +The camp-ground was in a level grove of pine-trees, between two steep +hills. A space had been cleared in the centre of the grove and a long +shed built. It was open at the sides and at one end, and filled with +benches without backs. Straw was strewn in the aisles and between the +benches. There was a platform at the closed end of the shed, and on it +sat a number of preachers and elders of the church. + +The crowd was large. Westerfelt stood for a moment in the phalanx of +men surrounding the shed, and surreptitiously eyed Bates and Harriet. +Her back was towards him as she stood, her cloak on her arm, still +politely watching her escort's movements. She looked so pretty, and +there was such appealing grace in her posture. He saw Bates join her +and take her arm, and then he watched them no longer. He knew they +were coming, and he went in at the end of the shed and found a seat +near the centre on the left. He saw Luke Bradley drive up and help his +wife and Mrs. Dawson to alight, then Frank Hansard and Jennie Wynn came +in and sat on the bench just behind him. Jennie was laughing in her +handkerchief. + +"There is old Mis' Henshaw," she whispered to Frank; "she's the'r +regular stan'-by at shouting. When they begin to call up mourners she +commences to clap 'er hands an' shout, then the rest get over their +bashfulness an' the fun begins. We may see a lot of excitement if the +town-people don't come and freeze 'em out with their finery an' stiff +ways." + +"You ort ter go up yorese'f, Jen," replied Frank; "you need it ef +anybody does." + +"I went up once," she laughed; "but Mary Trumbull pinched me an' tol' +me to look at ol' Mis' Warlick's dress, right in front of us. It had +split wide open between the shoulders an' all down the back. I thought +I'd die laughin'. They all believed I was cryin', and I got hugged by +a whole string of exhorters." + +"We'd better lie low," cautioned Frank; "last year, these camp-ground +folks had some town-people indicted for disturbin' public worship, an' +they had a lots o' trouble at court. They say they've determined to +break up the fun that goes on here." + +Westerfelt saw Luke Bradley and his party come in and sit down near the +centre of the shed. He caught Mrs. Dawson's glance, but she quickly +looked away. She had not forgiven him; that fact lay embedded in the +sallow hardness of her face. + +A moment later he forgot that Mrs. Dawson was in existence, for Harriet +and Bates were coming in. Bates still clutched her arm and carried her +cloak thrown over his shoulder. Westerfelt looked straight ahead at +the platform, but he heard their feet rustling in the straw, and knew +that they had sat down on the bench behind Hansard and Jennie. He +overheard Bates, who could not possibly speak in a whisper, ask her in +a mumbling bass voice if she wanted her cloak, and he saw the shadows +of the couple on the ground as she stood up and allowed him to help her +put it on. + +Gradually the shed had filled to overflowing. A white-haired preacher +raised the tune of a familiar hymn, and the principal service of the +day began. + +After the sermon was over, the congregation rose to get their +lunch-baskets, which had been left in their vehicles. + +"Mighty poky business so far," Westerfelt heard Jennie Wynn say, as she +and Hansard went out ahead of him; "wait until after dinner, they'll +get limbered up by that time." + +Westerfelt hoped Harriet and Bates would leave as soon as the others +did, but he saw them standing between the benches as if waiting for +some one. He looked straight ahead of him as he approached them, and +was about to pass without looking in the direction, when Bates caught +his arm and detained him. + +"Miss Harriet wants to see you," he said, with a grin; "you wouldn't be +in such a hurry if you knew what for." + +"I want you to come to dinner with us," Harriet said, tremulously, +leaning forward. "Jennie Wynn and I are going to put our baskets +together, and Hyram Longtree and Sue Kirby are coming." + +"I thank you," he said, "but I reckon I'll have to eat with Mrs. +Bradley." He might have accepted the invitation if Bates had not been +grinning so complacently and looking at Harriet with such a large air +of ownership. + +"Oh, come on," urged Bates. "You get Bradley hash every day; there is +some'n good in our basket; I could smell it all the way out here." + +"I wish you _would_ come," urged Harriet. "Mrs. Bradley will let you +off." + +There was something in her look and tone that convinced him that she +had detected his jealousy and was sympathizing with him, and that in +itself angered him. + +"No, I thank you, not to-day," he said, coldly; "how did you like the +preacher?" + +"Very well," she replied, her face falling. "I have heard him before." + +He had brought it on himself, but he was stung to the quick when she +touched Bates's arm, smiled indifferently, and said: "I see Sue and +Hyram out there waiting for us; we'd better go." + +As Westerfelt walked on, overwhelmed with jealous rage, he heard her in +the same tone ask Jennie Wynn to send Frank after her basket. +Westerfelt edged his way through the crowd to Mrs. Bradley and Mrs. +Dawson. + +"Why," said Mrs. Bradley, "I 'lowed you'd go off an' eat with some o' +yore young friends. But we are glad you come." + +"I never go back on home folks," he said, making an effort to speak +lightly. + +"Well, I fetched enough fer a dozen field-hands," laughed Mrs. Bradley. +"Two young preachers have promised to eat with me; that's all I've +axed. Luke, you go bring Brother Jones an' his friend, an' wait fer us +out at the wagon." + +"Why cayn't we fetch the dinner in heer an' not have to sit on the damp +ground?" suggested Bradley. + +"Beca'se, gumption! they won't have us greasin' up the benches that +folks set on in the'r best duds," she retorted. "Besides, the pine +straw will keep us off'n the ground, ef you ain't too lazy to rake it +up." + +Just then Harriet and her friends passed, and Westerfelt saw the girl +looking inquiringly at Mrs. Dawson. He heard the old woman grunt +contemptuously, and saw her toss her head and fiercely eye Harriet from +head to foot as she went down the aisle. + +Westerfelt shuddered. He wondered if the old woman could possibly know +of Harriet's past connection with Wambush and her girlish infatuation. +He turned away with Luke to get the basket. Bradley was saying +something about a suitable place to spread the lunch, but Westerfelt +did not listen. He could think of nothing but the strange, defiant +look in Mrs. Dawson's eyes as they fell on the girl he loved. + + + + +Chapter XIX + +At luncheon Westerfelt sat next to Mrs. Bradley and could not see Mrs. +Dawson, who was on the other side of her. Among the trees on his +right, he had a good view of Harriet Floyd's party. They all seemed +exasperatingly merry. Bates was making himself boyishly conspicuous, +running after water, preparing lemonade, and passing it round to the +others, with his silk hat poised on the back part of his head. Mrs. +Bradley and her friends remained seated for some time after they had +finished eating, and Westerfelt saw the young men in Harriet's party +rise, leaving the girls to put the remains of the lunch into the +baskets. Hyram and Frank strolled off together, and Bates, after a +moment's hesitation, came straight over to Westerfelt. + +"I want to talk to you, if you are through," he said, alternately +pulling at a soiled kid glove on his hand and twisting his stubby +mustache. + +Westerfelt rose, conscious that Mrs. Dawson was eying him, and walked +down a little road through the pines. Neither spoke till they were out +of sight of the crowd. Then Bates stopped suddenly and faced his +companion. He put his foot on a fallen log, and cleared his throat. +He looked up at the sky and slowly caressed his chin with his fingers, +as Westerfelt had once seen him do in making a speech before the +justice of the peace. + +"We ain't well acquainted, Westerfelt," he began, stroking his chin +downward and letting his lips meet with a clucking sound, also another +professional habit; "but, you'd find, ef you knew me better, that I +never beat the devil round the stump, as the feller said, an' I'm above +board." He paused for a moment; then he kicked a rotten spot on the +log with the broad heel of his brogan till it crumbled into dust. +"I've got some'n to say to you of a sort o' confidential nature, an' ef +you'll let me, I may ask you a point-blank question." + +"Fire away," said Westerfelt, wonderingly. + +"I'm not a ladies' man," continued Bates, with a kick at another soft +spot on the log. "I'm jest a plain Cohutta Mountain, jack-leg lawyer. +I've not been much of a hand to go to the shindigs the young folks have +been gitting up about heer. One reason was I couldn't afford it, +another was I didn't have the time to spare, so I haven't never paid +court to any special young lady in Cartwright. But now, I think I am +in purty good shape to marry. I believe all young men ought to get 'em +a wife, an' if I ever intend to do the like, I'll have to be about it, +for I'm no spring chicken. Now, to make a long story short, I've taken +a strong liking to the girl I fetched out here to-day, an', by George, +now that I've got headed that way, I simply can't wait any longer, nor +hold in either. I intend to ask her to be my wife if--" he began again +to kick the log. "Dang it, it seems to me--you see, I know that she +don't care a rap for Wambush; a few of us thought thar was something +between 'em once, but since he went off it is as plain as day that she +is not grieving after him. But, somehow, it seems to me that she may +have a hankering after you. I don't know why I think so, but if thar +is any understanding between you two I'd take it as a great favor if +you'd let me know it, right now at the start. I'll wish you well--but +I'd like to know it. It's a powerful big thing to me, Westerfelt--the +biggest thing I ever tackled yet." + +Westerfelt's face was hard and expressionless. He avoided the lawyer's +searching glance, shrugged his shoulders and smiled coldly. + +"I am not engaged to her," he said, doggedly; "as far as I know she is +free to--to choose for herself." + +"Ah!" Bates slowly released his chin and caught his breath. + +Westerfelt could have struck out the light that sprang into his eyes. +"I hain't seen a bit of evidence in that line, I'll admit," went on +Bates, with a chuckle of relief; "but some of the boys and girls seemed +to think that something might have sprung up between you and her while +you was laid up at the hotel. I reckon I was mistaken, but I thought +she looked cut up considerable when you didn't come to dinner with us +jest now. She wasn't lively like the rest." + +"Pshaw!" said Westerfelt; "you are off the track." + +"Well, no odds." Bates began to tug at his glove again. "I've come to +you like a man an' made an open breast of it, as the feller said. I +intend to ask her point-blank the very first time I get her alone +again. The girl hain't give me the least bit of hope, but her mother +has--a little. I reckon a feller might take it that way." + +"What did Mrs. Floyd say?" Westerfelt started, and looked Bates +straight in the eyes. + +"Oh, nothing much; I may be a fool to think it meant anything, but this +morning when I called for Miss Harriet the old lady came in and acted +mighty friendly. She asked me to come to dinner with 'em next Sunday, +and said Harriet always was backward about showing a preference for the +young man she really liked, an' said she was shore I didn't care much +for her or I'd come oftener." + +Westerfelt was silent. He had never suspected Mrs. Floyd of scheming, +but now that his suspicions were roused he let them run to the opposite +extreme. + +Yes, he thought, she was trying to marry her daughter off. Perhaps +because she wanted her to forget Wambush, who was certainly a man no +sensible woman would like to have in her family. + +Bates's round red face appeared in a blur before him. Bates said +something, but it sounded far off, and he did not catch its import. +There was a long silence, and then the lawyer spoke again: + +"What do you say? Why are you so devilish grum?" He took off his hat, +and wiped his brow with a red bandanna. Westerfelt stared into his +face. He was unable to collect his senses. It was an awful moment for +him. If he intended to marry her, and forget all, he must propose to +her at once, or, urged by her mother, she might marry Bates and be lost +to him forever. Bates caught his arm firmly. + +"I'm no fool," he said, impatiently. "Dad burn it, you _do_ love her. +I see it! You are trying to throw me off the track! Look heer! If +you've lied to me--" Voices were heard in the bushes up the road. +Jennie Wynn and Harriet were approaching. "There they are now!" +exclaimed Bates, in another tone; "you have not been open with me; for +God's sake, don't keep me in suspense! Is she _yours_? Answer that!" + +"I have never asked her." Westerfelt spoke through tight lips. "I've +no claim on her." + +"Well, then, it's as fair for one of us as the other." Bates was half +angry. "We both want her; let's have it over with. Let's speak out +now an' let her take her choice. If she takes you, you may drive her +home; ef it's me--well, you bet it'll make a man of me. She is the +finest girl on God's green earth. Here they come! What do you say?" + +Westerfelt drew his arm from Bates's grasp, and stared at him with eyes +which seemed paralyzed. + +"Don't mention me to her," he demanded, coldly. "I'll manage my own +affairs." + +"All right," Bates lowered his voice, for the two girls were now quite +near; "you may be sure of your case, and I may be making a blamed fool +of myself, but she's worth it." + +"What are you two confabbin' about?" cried Jennie, in a merry voice. +Neither of the men answered. Harriet looked curiously at them, her +glance resting last and longer on the lawyer. That encouraged him to +speak. + +"I want to see you a minute, Miss Harriet," he said, reaching out for +her sunshade. "May I?" + +"Certainly," she said, looking at him in slow surprise. She +relinquished her umbrella, and they walked off together. + +"What on earth is the matter with that man?" asked Jennie, her eyes on +the receding couple; then she glanced at Westerfelt, and added, with a +little giggle, "What's the matter with _you_?" + +Westerfelt seemed not to hear. + +"Mr. Bates looks like he's lost his best friend," went on the +irrepressible girl. "Look how he wabbles; he walks like he was +following a plough in new ground. I wouldn't want him to swing my +parasol about that way. What do you reckon ails him?" + +"I don't know," said Westerfelt. Her words irritated him like the +persistent buzzing of a mosquito. + +"I wonder if that fellow is goose enough to go an' fall in love with +Harriet." + +"What if he should?" Westerfelt was interested. + +"She hain't in love with him." + +"How do you know?" + +"How do I _know_? Because she is silly enough to be gone on a man that +don't care a snap for her." + +"Wambush?" + +"No," scornfully; "_you_, that's who." + +Westerfelt was silent for a moment, then he said: "How do you know I +don't care for her?" + +"You don't show it; you always stay away from her. They say you've +been spoiled to death by girls over the mountain." + +"I asked her to come out here with me to-day." + +"Did you? You don't mean it! Well, I'll bet she--but I'm not goin' to +tell you; you are vain enough already." They were silent for several +minutes after that. She seated herself on a log by the roadside, and +he stood over her, his eyes on the pines behind which Bates and Harriet +had disappeared. What could be keeping them so long? Jennie prattled +on for half an hour, but he did not hear half she said. Afternoon +service began. The preacher gave out the hymn in a solemn, monotonous +voice, and the congregation sang it. + +"We must be goin' purty soon," said Jennie; "my gracious, what is the +matter with them people; hadn't we better go hunt 'em?" + +"I think not, they--but there they are now." + +Harriet and Bates had turned into the road from behind a clump of +blackberry vines, and, with their heads hung down, were slowly +approaching. Looking up and seeing Westerfelt and Jennie, they +stopped, turned their faces aside, and continued talking. + +Westerfelt was numb all over. Had she accepted Bates? He tried to +read their faces, but even the open countenance of Bates revealed +nothing. + +"Come on, you ninnies!" Jennie cried out. "What on earth are you +waiting for?" + +Her voice jarred on Westerfelt. "Hush! for God's sake, hush!" he +commanded, sharply. "Let's go on--they don't want us!" + +Wondering over his vehemence, Jennie rose quickly and followed him. He +walked rapidly. She glanced over her shoulder at Harriet and Bates, +but Westerfelt did not look back. When the shed was reached, Jennie +asked him if he were going in with her, but he shook his head, and she +entered alone. He remained in the crowd on the outside, pretending to +be listening to the sermon, but was furtively watching the spot where, +concealed by the trees, Bates and Harriet still lingered. + +The preacher ended his discourse, started a hymn, and commenced to +"call up mourners." Old Mrs. Henshaw began to pray aloud and clap her +hands. The preacher came down from the platform, gave his hand to her, +and she rose and began to shout. Then the excitement commenced. +Others joined in the shouting and the uproar became deafening. It was +a familiar scene to Westerfelt, but to-day it was all like a dream. He +could not keep his eyes off the trees behind which he had left Harriet +with his new rival. What could be keeping them? + +Presently he saw them emerge from the woods. They were still walking +slowly and close together. Westerfelt could learn nothing from +Harriet's passive face, but Bates now certainly looked depressed. A +sudden thought stunned Westerfelt. Could she have told Bates of her +old love for Wambush, and had he--even he--decided not to marry her? +They passed the shed, went on to Bates's buggy, got into it, and drove +down the road to Cartwright. + + + + +Chapter XX + +The religious excitement had spread over all the congregation. Every +bench held some shouting or praying enthusiast. Some of the women +began to move about on the outside, pleading with the bystanders to go +forward for prayer. One of them spoke to Westerfelt, but he simply +shook his head. Just then he noticed Mrs. Dawson sitting on the end of +a bench next to the centre aisle. She had turned half round and was +staring at him fixedly. When she caught his eye, she got up and came +towards him. Other women were talking to men near him, and no one +noticed her approach. + +In the depths of her bonnet her withered face had never appeared so +hard and unrelenting. She laid her hand on his arm and looked up into +his eyes. + +"Are you a seeker, John Westerfelt?" she asked, with a sneer. + +"No, I am not." He tried to draw his arm away, but her bony fingers +clutched and held it. + +"They say the's a chance fer all to wipe out sins," she went on, "but I +have my doubts 'bout you. You know whar you'll land. You kin mighty +nigh feel the hot now, I reckon." + +He caught her wrist and tore his arm from her grasp. + +"Leave me alone!" he cried; then he dropped her wrist and added: "For +Heaven sake don't--_don't_ devil me to death; you make me forget you +are a woman and not a beast--a snake! My God, let me alone!" + +His angry tone had drawn the attention of a few of the bystanders. A +tall, lank countryman, standing near Westerfelt, turned on him. + +"Be ashamed o' yorese'f, young man," he said; "ef you don't want to be +prayed fer you don't have to, but don't cut up any o' yore shines with +these Christian women who are tryin' to do good." + +"You don't know what you are talking about," replied Westerfelt, and he +turned away quickly, and went across the cleared space to his horse and +buggy. Jake, who was lying on the ground with some other negroes, ran +forward and unfastened his horse, and gave him the reins. + +"Want me to go back wid yer, Marse John?" he asked. + +"No," answered Westerfelt, and he drove rapidly homeward. Reaching the +stable, he put up his horse, and went to the room over the office. He +sat down, took up an old newspaper, and tried to read it, but there +seemed to be something in the paling light on the bare fields outside +and the stillness of the empty building that oppressed him. He rose +and looked out of the window. Not a soul was in sight. The store and +the bar, with their closed shutters, looked as if they had not been +opened for a century. A brindled cow stood in the middle of the +street, jangling a discordant bell, and lowing dolefully. He rose, +went down-stairs, walked aimlessly about in the stable, and then went +up the street towards Bradley's. He wondered if Harriet had returned, +but as he passed the hotel he had not the courage to look in. + +Every door of the Bradley house was closed. He tried all the windows, +but they were held down by sticks placed over the sashes on the inside. +Even the chickens and ducks in the back yard seemed to have fallen +under the spell of the unwonted silence. The scare-crow in the +cornfield beyond the staked-and-ridered rail fence looked like the +corpse of a human being flattened against the yellow sky. + +He went out at the gate and turned up the Hawkbill road till he was +high enough to see the village street above the trees. Later he +noticed the vehicles beginning to come back from the camp-ground, and +he returned home by a short path through the fields. He reached the +Bradleys' just as Luke was helping his wife out of the spring-wagon at +the gate. + +"We didn't fetch Mis' Dawson back," explained Mrs. Bradley. "She met +some old acquaintances--the Hambrights--an' they made 'er go home with +'em. Lawsy me, haven't I got a lots to tell you, though! You had as +well prepare fer a big surprise. You couldn't guess what tuk place out +thar atter you left ef you made a thousand dabs at it. Luke, go put up +the hoss. I want to talk to John, an' I don't want you to bother us +tell I'm through, nuther. You kin find plenty to do out at the barn +fer a few minutes." + +Westerfelt followed her into the sitting-room and helped her kindle the +fire in the big chimney. + +"Well, what has happened?" he asked, when the red flames were rolling +up from the heap of split pine under the logs. + +"It's about Mis' Dawson," announced Mrs. Bradley, as she sank into a +big chair and began to unpin her shawl. "She's got religion!" + +"You don't mean it!" + +"Yes, an' I'm what give it to her--me, an' nobody else. I'm a purty +thing to be talkin' that way, but it's the livin' truth. I caused it. +When I seed her git up an' go acrost to you and drive you clean off, I +got so mad I could a-choked her. I wus sittin' by Brother Tim +Mitchell. You don't know 'im, I reckon, but he's the biggest bull-dog +preacher 'at ever give out a hymn. He's a ugly customer, not more'n +thirty, but he's consecrated, an' had ruther rake a sinner over the +coals of repentance 'an eat fried chicken, an' he's a Methodist +preacher, too. He's nearly six foot an' a half high an' as slim as a +splinter; he lets his hair run long an' curls it some. He's as dark as +a Spaniard, an' his face shines like he eats too much grease an' sweats +it out through the pores uv his skin. + +"Well, he seed me a-lookin' at Mis' Dawson, when she went to devil you, +an' he bent over to me an' sez he: 'Sister Bradley, what ails that +woman anyhow?' + +"'What ails her?' sez I. 'What'd you ax that fer, Brother Tim?' + +"'She don't do nat'ral,' sez he. 'I've been talkin' to 'er about 'er +speritual welfare ever sence I set down heer, an' she won't say one +word. She ain't a bit like the gineral run o' old women; an' what's +more, she hain't doin' one bit o' exhortin' that I kin see. I don't +know whether she's in the vineyard or not.' + +"Then, John Westerfelt, I jest come out an' tol' 'im about 'er. Of +course I never give no names; but I made 'im see what ailed her, an' I +never seed a man look so interested. 'Sister Bradley,' sez he, rubbin' +his hands, when I got through, 'I'm going to wade in an' get hold o' +that woman's soul.' + +"'Well,' sez I, 'you may have to wade purty fur an' dive consider'ble, +fer she's about the toughest snag you ever struck.' + +"'I'm a-goin' to have 'er _soul_,' sez he, an' he laughed. 'I'd ruther +make that sort of a struggle for the Lord 'an to put out a burnin' +house, ur keep a pizen snake frum bitin' a baby. You watch my smoke. +Is she a-comin' back heer?' + +"'I kin bring 'er back,' sez I, 'fer right this minute I'd ruther see +that woman a shoutin' convert 'n to have a meal sack full o' gold +dollars.' + +"'Well,' sez he, sorter jokin' like, 'you fetch 'er heer an' set 'er +down whar she wus a minute ago, an' I'll put a plaster on 'er back +that'll make 'er _think_ she's shoutin' whether she is or not.' + +"Well, I went to whar she was outside an' tol' 'er Brother Mitchell +wanted to see 'er. 'I jest ain't a-goin' a step,' sez she, 'so I +ain't,' an' she looked sorter suspicious. + +"'Well, I don't railly see how yo're goin' to help yorese'f, Mis' +Dawson,' sez I. 'Goodness knows yo're showin' mighty little int'rust +in the meetin' anyways. Looks like you wouldn't insult one of the most +saintly men we got by turnin' yore back on 'im. Mebby he wants to ax +about startin' a meetin' over yore way. You'd better go.' + +"That settled it; I took 'er back an' set 'er down by him, an' he begun +to git in his work. I never knowed a man called to preach could be so +mealy-mouthed. He begun--you see I was next to him an' could ketch +ev'ry word, although thar was jest a regular hullabaloo o' shoutin' an' +singin' goin' on all about--he begun by goin' over his own family +trouble, an' I wanted to laugh out, fer the Lord knows, while Brother +Tim's folks has had _some_ few ordinary reverses, an' _did_ lose a few +head o' stock in the war, an' one o' the gals married a no-'count +Yankee carpenter an' never would write back home, an' Brother +Mitchell's ma an' pa died uv ripe old age--but, as I say, nobody ever +thought they wus particular unfortunate. Howsomever, she thought they +wus from his tale an' his sad, mournful way o' talkin'. Job an' all he +went through, b'iles an' all, wasn't a circumstance, an' it was all the +Lord's doin's, Brother Tim said, to show him the true light. I seed +she was listenin' an' that he had hold uv 'er some, but I kinder +thought she wusn't as easy prey as he 'lowed, fer he broke down once in +awhile an' had a sort o' sickly, quivery look about the mouth. All at +once he turned to me as mad as a hornet. Sez he: 'It's that dern +bonnet,'--no, he didn't say that exactly. I heer Luke say them things +so much 'at his words slip in when I'm in a hurry--'it's that bonnet o' +her'n, Sister Bradley,' sez he. 'I'll never git 'er in a wearin' way +as long as that poke keeps bobbin' up an' down twixt me 'n her eyes. +Cayn't you manage to git it off?' + +"Well, you kin imagine that wus a difficult thing to do, but I reckon +the Lord o' Hosts must 'a' been with us, fer all at once a idee come to +me an' I jest leaned over to her. 'Sister Dawson,' sez I, 'I beg yore +pardon, but the skirt o' yore bonnet is ripped, le'me see it a minute,' +an', la me! Brother Mitchell's eyes fairly danced in his head. I +heerd him laugh out sudden an' then he kivered his mouth 'ith his long, +bony hand an' coughed as I snatched the bonnet frum 'er head an' begun +to tear a seam open. She made a grab over his spindlin' legs fer it, +but I paid no attention to 'er, pretendin' to be fixin' it. Then the +fun begun. I seed 'im lay hold of 'er wrists an' look 'er spank, dab +in the eyes, an' 'en he begun to rant. Purty soon I seed her back +limberin' up an' I knowed, as the sayin' is, that she was our meat. +All at once, still a-hold o' 'er hands, he turned to me, an' sez he: +'Go ax Brother Quagmire to sing "How firm a foundation" three times, +with the second an' last verse left out, an' tell 'im to foller that up +with "Jesus, Lover." Git 'im to walk up an' down this aisle--this un, +remember. Tell 'im I've got a case heer wuth more 'n a whole bench +full o' them scrubs 'at'll backslide as soon as meetin' 's over; tell +'im to whoop 'em up. Sister Bradley, you are addin' more feathers to +yore wings right now 'an you ever sprouted in one day o' the Lord's +labor. But, for all you do, hold on to that blasted devil's +contraption.' He meant the bonnet. + +"I slid out 'twixt the benches on one side, an' went round to the stand +an' spoke to Brother Quagmire, who wus leadin'; he's the big, +white-headed man they say looks like Moody an' has the scalps o' more +sinners in 'is belt than any man on the war-path. When I tol' 'im what +wus up, he giggled an' said, 'God bless 'im, Mitch is a wheel-hoss!' +an' with that he busted out singin' 'How firm a foundation, ye saints +o' the Lord,' an' he waved his hands up an' down like a buzzard's +wings, an' went up our aisle, a-clappin' an' singin' to beat the Dutch. +I never seed the like before. I wusn't cryin' fer the same reason 'at +the rest of 'em wus, but the tears wus jest a-streamin' down my face +like a leaky well-bucket, fer I believed the thing wus goin' to work, +an' I wus thinkin' how glad you'd be. She looked up an' seed my face +an' busted out cryin'. Then Brother Mitchell ketched 'er up in his +arms an' yelled: 'You little, ol', triflin' thing, I'm a-gwine to put +you in the arms o' yore Redeemer,' an' then I jest couldn't help +cryin'. Luke seed me give way an' sneeked off to water the hosses. +John, she was the happiest creetur God ever made. She laid 'er old +bare head in my lap an' cried like a baby. I never railly loved 'er +before, but I did then. Somehow she seemed to be my own mother come +back to life ag'in. But she didn't shout an' take on like the rest. +She jest cried an' cried an' had the youngest look on 'er face I ever +seed on a ol' person. Once she said, sez she, 'I'm goin' back to put a +grave-rock over Jasper's remains,' an' then I remembered folks said she +wus too stingy to do that when Dawson died. She looked like she wanted +to talk about you, but I didn't feel called on to fetch up the subject. +After awhile she went out to the wagon whar her carpet-bag wus, an' got +up in one o' the cheers an' begun to stitch on some'n. I wus puzzled +right sharp, fer it wus a Sunday, an' it looked like a funny thing fer +a body to do, but atter awhile she come to me with some'n wrapped up in +a paper--I'll show it to you in a minute--an' give it to me. It was a +pair uv her best knit wool socks. You know some old women think it's a +mark o' great respect to give a pair o' socks to anybody that they've +knit the'rselves. + +"'I want you to take the socks,' sez she, 'an' give 'em to the right +person,' sez she, awful bashful like. You know, John, I don't believe +all the religion this side o' the burnin' lake kin make some folks beg +a body's pardon, not ef they wanted to wuss than anything on earth. +She is one o' that sort. I 'lowed right off 'at the socks wus fer you +an' started to tell 'er how glad you'd be to git 'em when, all at once, +I noticed a letter M worked in red wool on 'em. It was a letter M as +plain as anything could be, a big letter M, 'an' that throwed me. Then +I thought about Brother Mitchell's name beginnin' with a M, an' so I +said, sez I, 'So you want me to give 'em to Brother Mitchell, do you?' +An' 'en she flared up. 'Who said a word about Brother Mitchell?' she +axed. I seed she wusn't pleased by my mistake, an' so I tried my level +best to think o' somebody else with a M to his name, but I couldn't to +save my neck, so at last I give it up. 'Yo're entirely too mysterious +fer me, Mis' Dawson,' sez I. 'I can't, fer the life o' me, think uv +one soul you know whose name begins with a M.' 'M,' sez she, 'who said +that was a letter M? Yo're jest a-puttin' on. You know that ain't no +M.' + +"'That's what it is,' sez I. 'I haven't waited till I'm old enough to +have gran'children to l'arn my a b c's.' + +"She snatched the socks frum me, an' I 'lowed she wus goin' to throw +'em away, but she turned 'em upside down an' helt 'em before my eyes. +'Do you call that a M?' sez she, an' shore 'nough it was as plain a W +as I ever laid eyes on. + +"'Oh!' sez I, 'now I see. Do you want me to give 'em to John +Westerfelt?' + +"But she wouldn't say narry a word. I seed how the land lay, fer I +knowed she'd ruther die, religion ur no religion, 'an come right out in +so many words an' say she wus sorry. You know I believe as I'm +a-settin' heer 'at thar'll be folks meetin' on the golden sands of +eternity, by the River of Life, 'at'll pass one another with the'r +noses in the air; but I'll take that back. I reckon thar won't be no +noses, nur no air, as fer that matter; folks that's read up on sech +matters says everything will be different. The Lord knows I hope it +will be. I want a change. But I am gettin' away frum Mis' Dawson. +Then I up an' told 'er p'int-blank I wus goin' to give the socks to you +with the compliments of the day, an' ef she objected she'd better put +in 'er complaint in time, but she jest walked back an' set down in +front o' the stand. John, she's that sorry fer all she's said and done +'at she can't talk about it. These heer socks is all the proof you +need. I don't think she wants to meet you face to face nuther. She's +goin' home in the mornin' in Sam Hambright's wagon. Lord! Peter +Slogan an' his wife never 'll know what to make uv 'er. I'd give a +purty to be thar when she comes, fer they won't know she's converted, +an' she'd be strung up by the toes ruther 'n tell 'em right out." + +Mrs. Bradley stood up, and then quickly sat down again. "I thought I'd +get them socks out'n the dinner-basket, but I heer Luke a-comin'. He's +like a fish out o' water. He seed me a-takin' on with Mis' Dawson, an' +he thinks I've got a fresh dose o' religion. I didn't let 'im know no +better, an' he wus grum all the way home. He can't put up with a +Christian of the excitable sort. Hush, don't say a word; watch me +devil him, but ef you don't keep a straight face I'll bust out +laughin'. Lordy, I feel good somehow--I reckon it's beca'se yo're shet +o' that old woman's persecutions." + +Just then Bradley entered and laid his hat on the bed. Westerfelt now +noticed the unsettled expression of his face and smiled as he thought +of the innocent cause of it. + +"Well," said Bradley, "are you through with John? It's high time we +wus havin' some'n t' eat." + +"Yes," said his wife, with a doleful expression of countenance, "I +reckon I'm through with him. Set down in that cheer, Luke. I've been +talkin' to John about his speritual welfare, an' it's yore time now. +We've got to turn over a new leaf, Luke--me 'n' you has; we've jest +gone fur enough in iniquity--that is, you have; I've meant well enough +all along." + +"I say!" Luke sat down uneasily and glanced at Westerfelt, who sat +staring at him with an assumed look of seriousness which threatened to +go to pieces at any instant. + +"Yes, Luke," went on his wife, "you've been my mill-rock long enough, +an' now I'm goin' to take a new an' a firmer stand in my treatment uv +you. We used to hold family prayer an' ax the blessin', an' now our +house has got to be called the dancin'-door to perdition; we've got to +quit all that. I'm a-goin' to smash that jug o' bug-juice o' yo'r'n in +the closet, an' not another speck o' the vile truck shall come in my +house." (She caught Westerfelt's eye, drew down the side of her face +which was next to him, and winked slyly.) + +"Oh, you are!" Bradley was a picture of absolute misery. He crossed +his legs and then put his feet side by side, only to cross and recross +his legs again. + +"I've had a great awakenin' to-day, Luke," she went on, "an' now I see +nothin' ahead o' me but one solid blaze o' glory. John heer is +convicted, an' is goin' to do the right thing, but I reckon he won't +have as much to undo as you who are older in wrong livin'. That cow +you traded fer with Fred Wade has to go back early in the mornin'. You +knowed the one you swapped wus mighty nigh dry, an' 'at his'n come home +every night with 'er bag so loaded she could hardly take a step without +trippin' up--the fust thing in the mornin', mind you! I want you to +git the Book right now, too, an' read some, an' let's begin family +worship. Thar it is on the sewin'-machine; I'll bet you ain't looked +in it in a month o' Sundays." + +Westerfelt was laboriously keeping a straight face, but it was waxing +red as blood and his eyes were protruding from their sockets and +twinkling with a merriment that was a delight to Mrs. Bradley, who kept +glancing at him as she talked. + +"What in the dev--what do you mean, Marthy?" Bradley stammered. "The +cow kin go back, ef you say so, but blame--but I'll draw a line at home +prayin'. I ain't fittin', that's all; I ain't fittin'." + +"I know that as well as you do"--Mrs. Bradley wiped a smile from her +face and winked at Westerfelt--"but this blessed Sabbath is a good time +to begin. Git the Book, Luke!" + +"I'll not do it, Marthy; you may shout an' carry on as much as you +like, with yore sudden religious spurts, but I believe in regularity, +one way ur the other." + +"Git that Book, Luke Bradley; git it, I say," and then Westerfelt's +laughter burst from him, and he laughed so heartily that an inkling of +the truth seemed forced on Bradley, who had witnessed his wife's +practical joking before. + +"I believe, on my soul, it's a sell," he said, in a tone of vast +relief. "Lord, I 'lowed you'd gone plumb crazy." + +And then he was sure it was a joke, for Mrs. Bradley had her head +between her fat knees, and was laughing as he had never heard her laugh +before. + +"I paid you back, you ol' goose," she said, when she could master her +merriment. "You had no business thinkin' I'd lost my senses, jest +because I cried when 'at ol' woman got so happy. I was glad on John's +account, but you don't know a bit more now than you did. You couldn't +see a wart on yore nose ef you wus cross-eyed." + + + + +Chapter XXI + +Mrs. Dawson reached home the next day about four o'clock in the +afternoon. Mrs. Slogan was seated at her great cumbersome hand-made +loom in the corner of the kitchen, weaving reddish brown jeans for +Peter's clothing. Mrs. Lithicum and her husband were in paying a +visit. The latter and Slogan were talking over a joint hog-killing +they were going to have to save labor and expense. Peter had put a +higher mental valuation on the labor saved than Lithicum. He had +discovered, on a former occasion, that the arrangement had saved him +some money, and that Ab had done all the work, such as directing the +black hands and keeping the water just the proper temperature to remove +the bristles without "setting" them. + +"You see," Peter had remarked to his wife, "Ab works more'n I do; mebby +it's beca'se he's a chawin' man--a smokin' man has to set down to smoke +to do any good, while a chawin' man kin use both hands at any job, an' +jest squirt when an' whar he wants to." + +Peter went to a window, while Ab was watching the movement of the loom, +and looked across the fields. Suddenly the others heard him utter an +ejaculation of profound astonishment. The loom ceased its monotonous +thumping, and all eyes turned on him. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Lithicum, her round, red face full of +curiosity. + +"I'll bet narry one o' you could make a good guess." + +They knew him too well to expect information from him, so they all +started for the window. Mrs. Lithicum reached it first. "As I'm +alive!" she cried. "Mis' Dawson's got back. She's gettin' out uv a +wagon down at 'er cabin." + +"Well, I 'lowed she wouldn't always be gallivantin' about heer and +yan," said the weaver, as she peered over the shoulder of her guest. +"I reckon they've all got tired of 'er over thar an' sent 'er home." + +Mrs. Lithicum followed the speaker back to the loom. "Well, I don't +know but I'm a leetle grain sorry," she said. + +"Sorry!" repeated the sister of the person under discussion. "I don't +see what thar railly is to be sorry about." + +Mrs. Lithicum looked as if she had got her foot into it, and she +flushed, but she had her defence ready. "Well, you see, Mis' Slogan, +she's tuck a most unaccountable dislike to Lizzie, an' a pusson +like--well, some _do_ think her trouble has sorter turned 'er brain, +an' the's no rail tellin' what quar notion may strike 'er." + +"Do you think so, Mis' Lithicum?" Mrs. Slogan retained the big smooth +shuttle in her hand and eyed the speaker anxiously, her eyelids +quivering. + +"To be downright plain, yes, I do. Mis' Slogan, ef she _is_ yore +sister, an' I've thought many a time 'at ef I wus in yore place I +wouldn't feel safe nuther. They say a pusson sometimes gits softenin' +o' the brain frum hatin' folks an' livin' alone like she does. I'd be +afeerd to leave the house open at night ef I wus you." + +"Well!" suddenly broke in Peter, who was the only one remaining at the +window. "You may have my overcoat an'"--after a pause--"my best Sunday +shirt, too, ef she hain't loaded 'er bed in that wagon an' 's a-comin' +this way as big as the side of a house. She's comin' back heer, +Clariss, Lordy, Lordy!" + +They all ran to the window again and stood breathlessly watching the +oncoming wagon. "She's off 'er nut now, I know," said Peter. "I know +'er too well; she never would come back heer ef she wus in 'er right +mind." + +"Well, I don't want to meet 'er--that's one thing certain," cried Mrs. +Lithicum in sudden terror. "She mought pounce upon me on Lizzie's +account. I'm a-goin' home by the path through the cotton-patch. Good +day to all uv you. Ef I was you-uns," she called back from the door, +"I'd have 'er put up!" + +Abner mutely followed her, and the Slogans were left to solve the +problem for themselves. The wagon drew up at the door, and from their +window they saw the little woman step down over the front wheel and +direct the white driver--they could not hear her voice, but they read +the signs of her hands--to put the few pieces of furniture on the +porch. This done, the wagon clattered away, and Mrs. Dawson, with +hanging head, came into the passage and went to her old room. + +"What in the name o' goodness do you reckon she's goin' to do?" gasped +Mrs. Slogan, quite pale and cold. "I'm nearly skeerd to death." + +"She's got a faint idee 'at she's goin' to put up heer with us," +answered Peter with considerable concern for a man of his phlegmatic +temperament. "They say crazy folks jest natcherly drift back into +the'r old ruts, an' the best way is to let 'em alone. Ef she kin feed +'erself we'll be in luck; some crazy folks jest gaum the'rselves from +head to foot an' have to have constant attention." + +"But you ain't a-goin' to let 'er stay, are you?" cried his wife. + +Peter smiled grimly and went to the mantel-piece for his foul-smelling +comforter. He also pulled down from a nail on the wall a dry stalk of +tobacco and proceeded to crush and crumble some of the crisp leaves in +his big palm. + +"Me? I don't see 'at I've got a thing to say in the matter," he +retorted, with a grimace that bore a slight resemblance to a smile. +"You wus tellin' me jest t'other day 'at the lan' an' house wus in yore +name an' her'n, an' 'at I had no right to put in. I reckon you'll have +to manage 'er, Clariss." + +Mrs. Slogan sank back on the bench of the loom, but she didn't set the +thing in motion; she had an idea that the slightest sound might draw +the attention of the bustling inmate of the room across the passage, +and just then she was not prepared to exchange greetings. + +Peter stood at the window, his head now enveloped in smoke, and kept +peering out at the porch from which Mrs. Dawson was moving the various +articles pertaining to her bed, such as slats, posts, railings, +mattress, pillows, sheets, and coverings. + +"She's as busy as a hoss's tail in fly-time," he observed. "Oh, Lawsy +mercy!" + +This last ejaculation came out with such startled emphasis that his +wife let her mouth fall open as she waited for him to explain. But +Peter only stretched his neck towards the window, holding his pipe +behind him to keep from setting fire to the curtain. + +"Oh, Peter, what is it?" + +"She hain't fetched a sign of a thing to cook with," he replied. "I +kinder thought I heerd a clatter in that wagon as it driv' off; she's +give 'er coffee-pot an' fryin'-pan an' dishes to the feller that +fetched 'er over heer an' moved 'er things. She intends to eat with +us." + +Mrs. Slogan wrung her hands. "Something jest has to be done," she +said, "an' the Lord knows I don't know what it is. Do you reckon she's +dangerous, Peter?" + +"She's yore sister, Clariss," he chuckled, in spite of the gravity of +the situation, "an' I'd hate to be in yore re'ch ef you wus to lose any +more uv yore mind. As it is, you--" + +"I wish you'd shet up!" broke in his wife; "this ain't no time fer +foolishness." + +Then they drew their chairs up to the fireplace and sat down. They +could still hear the old woman moving about, setting things to rights +in her room. Suddenly there was a great clatter of falling slats. The +bed had come down. + +"She can't put that thing up by 'erself" suggested Peter. "Go in an' +he'p 'er." + +"I'll do no sech a thing; do you reckon I want 'er to scratch my eyes +out? Huh! She hates me like a rattlesnake, an' has jest come heer so +she kin devil me to death. I see it now. She seed she wusn't worryin' +me much over thar in 'er ol' cabin, an' she's jest bent on gittin' +nigher." + +"I reckon that's jest yore--yore conscience a-talkin'," opined Slogan. +"Thar's no gittin' round it, Clariss, you did sorter rub it in when +Sally wus alive. I often used to wonder how the old creetur managed to +put up with it; you kept ding-dongin' at 'er frum mornin' to night. Ef +she's cracked, yo're purty apt to have it read out to you frum the Book +o' Judgment." + +Mrs. Slogan must have felt the truth of this accusation, for she voiced +no denial. The room across the passage suddenly became quiet. It was +evident that the bed was up; as a further evidence of this, Mrs. Dawson +was seen to go out to the wood-pile and fill her apron with chips and +return with them. + +"She's got located," remarked Slogan. "She's a-goin' to set in now an' +make 'erse'f comfortable." + +"She'll burn the house down over our heads," whined Mrs. Slogan. "Oh, +Peter, I'm not satisfied! I'm anything but." + +The sun went down and night came on. Mrs. Slogan began to prepare +supper, casting, the while, frequent glances at the door opening on the +passage. Peter smoked pipe after pipe without being able to come to +any definite conclusion as to how to surmount the difficulty. Suddenly +he looked over his shoulder and tapped the heel of his shoe with his +pipe. + +"You'd better cook enough fer three," was what he said, "an' make more +coffee. Ef she don't he'p us drink it, we'll need it to keep us +company through the night. I know in reason 'at you won't close yore +eyes till--till we see some way out of the difficulty." + +"Peter Slogan," said his wife, in a whisper, as she laid the +table-cloth down in a chair and leaned over him, "you skeer the life +out o' me when you talk that away. I never seed you look like you +minded anything before." + +"I'm glad I show some'n'," he grinned, struggling back into his old +sardonic mood. "I 'lowed I'd got too hardened to feer man, God, ha'nt, +ur devil. Well, I _don't_ keer overly much about havin' a crazy +creetur' so nigh me, an' I ain't a-goin' to, ef I kin see any way out +of it. We ain't a thousand miles from the State asylum." + +Mrs. Slogan moved noiselessly as she unfolded the cloth and spread it. +She put the coffee on the table and poured the floating grounds from +the top into a tin cup. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," she proposed, timidly. "I'll fix 'er +some supper on that piece o' plank thar, an' a big cup o' coffee +sweetened jest like she used to like it, ef--" She hesitated. + +"Ef what? Out with it!" + +"Ef you'll take it in thar whar she's at." + +Peter deliberated and cleared his throat. + +"She's _yore_ sister," he got out, finally, "an' the last time I went +to 'er cabin she wouldn't listen to me no more 'n ef I wus a rat +a-squeakin'. You see, a feller's sorter expected to--" + +"I don't keer ef she _is_ my sister, I ain't a-goin' in thar, an' that +settles it. I declare I'd be ashamed to call myse'f a man ef I wus +afeerd uv a weakly, bent-over old woman like she is." + +Peter stirred uneasily in his chair. + +"I don't keer about holdin' no talk with 'er--ur startin' 'er off by +the sight o' me--but I'll go thar--I see 'er door ain't shet--an' I'll +put the grub whar she'll see it." + +"Well, that'll do," agreed Mrs. Slogan. "Feedin' 'er ain't a-goin' to +make 'er any wuss, an' it mought have a quietin' effect." + +Peter took the improvised tray when it was brought to him and went out +with it, returning in a moment. + +"I ketched 'er a-lookin' right at me," he said, "an' so I jest walked +bold-faced in an' put the stuff on a table in front of 'er. She looked +down in the fire an' didn't speak, an' I didn't nuther. She didn't +look one bit dangerous. Now that I've seed 'er, I reckon I'll sleep +some. I'm dem glad I did. Ef you'll jest take a peep at 'er you'll +feel better." + +"Well, I won't close my two eyes," affirmed his wife. "I hain't seed +'er, nur I don't intend to, ef I kin git out of it." + +When supper was ready they softly moved their chairs to their places +and sat down. Mrs. Slogan didn't eat heartily, but Peter's appetite +seemed normal. They had finished eating, Peter had secured his +toothpick from the broom, and they had moved back to the fireplace, +when they heard a stealthy step on the passage floor near the door. +The bolt was turned, the door shutter creaked and moved a few inches. +A hand came in sight, and something wrapped in brown paper was tossed +into the centre of the room. Then the steps receded, and they heard +the widow resume her chair. + +Peter rose curiously and picked up the parcel, and bringing it to the +fire opened it. Its contents were a pair of woollen socks and a pair +of stockings of the same material. On the first had been worked a big +red letter "P" and on the other a capital "C." + +"Did you ever?" gasped Mrs. Slogan. "I don't believe she's a bit more +crazy 'n I am." + +"I never 'lowed she wus," said Peter, with a laugh. "I jest thought +she mought be harder to manage 'an you, that's all." + +"Sister's gone an' had a change o' heart!" declared Mrs. Slogan, +ignoring his joke. "Nothin' else could a-made 'er come back an' give +us these things. I heerd they had a big revival over thar. Oh, Lordy, +I do feel so relieved!" + +"Well, I reckon we mought as well go in an' pay 'er our respects an' +git started," grumbled Peter. "I'm not a-goin' to tote 'er meals +about, I'll tell you that. Slavery day is over." + +"No, we'll jest let 'er alone," Mrs. Slogan beamed; "she'll know we +mean all right by the supper, an' I reckon she'll move up 'er cheer in +the mornin'; ef she don't, I'll blow the field-horn." + +Peter lighted another pipe. "I wonder," said he, "how long it'll be +'fore you an' her 'll be clawin' agin. Religion ur no religion, crazy +ur no crazy, women is jest the same." + + + + +Chapter XXII + +When Westerfelt went to bed that night after his talk with Mrs. Bradley +about the conversion of Mrs. Dawson, it was with a certain lightness of +heart and buoyancy of spirits that he had not experienced for a long +time. He did not know exactly how his new feeling would show itself in +regard to Harriet, but he believed he might, in time, cease to look +upon her love for Wambush as such an unpardonable offence. "Surely," +he argued, "if Mrs. Dawson can forgive me for all I have done, I ought +to pardon the girl I love for what she did before she knew me." + +These were admirable intentions, but he was counting on a depth of +nature that was not his either by inheritance or cultivation. The +inflammable material was still bound up in his breast, and it needed +but one spark to fire it. What he was struggling against had come down +to him from a long line of ancestors, men who would rather have died +than brook the thought of a rival, especially in an inferior; men who +would have spurned the love of their hearts if it were stained with +falsehood under any circumstances, and when, as it was in Westerfelt's +case, the provocation was not only deceit, but ardent love for such a +man--ah, there was the rub! + +The next morning he watched Bates's office from the stable till he saw +the lawyer come down the street and enter. He waited awhile longer, +for he saw Bates go out to the wood-pile and return with an armful of +wood. Presently blue smoke began to rise from the chimney, and +Westerfelt went over and rapped on the door. + +"Come in!" Bates called out. Westerfelt found him with his back to the +door, sitting over the fire, a leather-bound tome in his lap. + +"Hello!" he cried, seeing who it was; "pull up a seat." + +Westerfelt drew a rickety chair from beneath a dusty desk and sat down. + +"Did you get home all right?" he asked. + +"Yes." Bates closed his book, leaving his forefinger in it for a +book-mark; he removed his foot from the side of the chimney and cleared +his throat. "Miss Harriet asked me to fetch her home early; dang it! +I believe she would a-stayed longer, but she was sorry for me." + +"Sorry for you--why?" + +"Because she couldn't see it my way, I reckon." + +"Did she--refuse you?" + +Bates threw his book on a table. "Do I look like a man that's goin' to +marry the prettiest and the best girl in the world? Westerfelt, I +didn't sleep a wink last night." + +"That's bad." + +"Looky' heer, don't give me any shenanigan; you knowed what she'd do +for me. You knowed mighty well." + +"Me?" + +"Yes, dad burn it; you know she loves you." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"If you don't know it you are a numskull. She intimated to me that she +loved some feller, but that she never intended to marry anybody. I'm +no fool. I know who she meant. Look here!" Bates suddenly rose to +his feet. His face was both white and red in splotches. He grasped +the back of his chair with both his hands and leaned on it. "I've +heard o' your doings over the mountain. She hain't no kin to me, but +I'll tell you one thing right now, Westerfelt, she's a good girl, an' +if you trifle with her feelings you'll have me to whip ur get a licking +yorese'f. I'm talking straight now, man to man." + +Westerfelt rose, and the two men stood side by side, each staring into +the other's face. + +"Don't be a fool," said Westerfelt, after a slight pause; "don't meddle +with what don't concern you," and he turned and left the room. He had +never allowed a man to threaten him in that sort of way, but he was in +no frame of mind to quarrel. Besides, there was something in the +lawyer's defence of Harriet that made him like the fellow. + +He was about to cross the street to the stable when he saw Harriet come +out of the hotel and trip along the sidewalk towards the store. She +wore no hat or bonnet, but held a handkerchief over her head to protect +her face from the sun. He was sure she saw him, but she did not show +any sign of recognition. He kept on his way, but when she had +disappeared in the store he hesitated, then stopped, recrossed the +street, and turned into the store after her. She was standing on the +grocery side, tapping the counter with a coin. Martin Worthy was +behind the counter, weighing a package of soda for her. She flushed +red and then paled a little as Westerfelt entered and held out his hand. + +"It's a pretty day," he said. "I'd like to take you to drive after +dinner, if you will go with me. I hated like smoke to miss that ride +yesterday." + +She shook hands with him and then turned to Worthy, who was tying the +package with a piece of twine drawn from a ball in a holder at the +ceiling. Westerfelt was afraid she was going to ignore his invitation +wholly, but she looked round presently and smiled faintly. + +"I shall be glad to go," she answered. "Any one else going?" + +"No; that is, not that I know of." + +She leaned over to give Worthy the money, and waited for the change +without glancing again at Westerfelt. + +She took her parcel and started to leave. "Then I shall come about two +o'clock?" he said, going with her to the door. + +She nodded. "Very well; I'll be ready," and he stood aside for her to +pass. + +She walked briskly back to the hotel and into the kitchen, where her +mother was at work. + +"Did you get it?" Mrs. Floyd asked. + +"Yes, and there's the change." Harriet put down the package and +dropped some pieces of silver into a goblet on the table. + +"What's the matter?" Mrs. Floyd was kneading dough in a great wooden +tray, and she looked at Harriet over her shoulder. + +"Nothing." + +"I know there _is_." Mrs. Floyd turned and began rubbing the dough +from her fingers as a woman puts on a kid glove. + +"Mr. Westerfelt has asked me to drive with him after dinner," said the +girl. "That's all." + +"Harriet!" Mrs. Floyd's eyes sparkled with excitement as she sprinkled +some flour over her dough and began to roll the mass back and forth. +"I reckon you will acknowledge _now_ that I know something about young +men. If you had refused to go with Bascom Bates yesterday, Mr. +Westerfelt would have had no respect for you; as it is, he couldn't +wait twenty-four hours to see you. For all you do, don't let him see +too plain that you care for him. Mind what I say!" + +Westerfelt was impatient for two o'clock to arrive. It was one when he +left Bradley's after dinner. He went to the stable and ordered Jake to +get out his horse and buggy. He would call for her at once; he could +not wait any longer. He felt a sort of sinking sensation at his heart +as Jake gave him the whip and reins, and he was actually trembling when +he stopped at the hotel. Harriet came out on the veranda above and +told him she would be down at once. She did not keep him waiting long, +and when she came down, prettily flushed and neatly attired, his heart +bounded and his pulse quickened. Had she been a queen he could not +have felt more respect for her than he did as he stood shielding her +skirt from the wheels and helped her get seated. He was just about to +get in himself when an old man came down the sidewalk from Worthy's +store, headed for the buggy. It was old John Wambush with a basket of +eggs on his arm. + +"Howdy' do," he said, nodding to them both. "Miss Harriet, is yore ma +needin' any more eggs now? I diskivered another nest this mornin', an' +'lowed she mought be able to use 'em. She's about the only one in the +place 'at ever has cash to pay fer produce." + +"I don't know, Mr. Wambush," Harriet replied, politely. "She is in the +house; you might go in and see her." + +The old man shifted his basket to his other arm and hesitated. +Westerfelt got into the buggy and took up the reins. + +"I reckon, Miss Harriet, you hain't heerd frum Toot sence I seed you?" + +"No, Mr. Wambush." Westerfelt was not looking at her as she spoke, and +the saddest part of it lay in the fact that he was trying to save her +from what he imagined must be a very embarrassing situation. "No, he +has not written me." + +"Well"--the old man turned--"as fur as I'm concerned, I'm not one bit +afeerd that he'll not be able to take keer o' hisse'f, but his mammy is +pestered mighty nigh to death about 'im." + +Just then Mrs. Floyd came out on the porch and threw a kiss at Harriet. +The act and its accompanying smile reminded Westerfelt of the deception +the old lady had played on Bates, and that added weight to the vague +convictions once more alive in his brain. Mrs. Floyd's smile implied a +certain confidence in his credulity and pliability that was galling to +his proud spirit. + +His horse was mettlesome, and Westerfelt drove rapidly over a good road +which ran along the foot of the mountain. The day was fine, the +scenery glorious, but he was oblivious of their charm. His agony had +never been so great. He kept his eyes on his horse; his face was set, +his glance hard. Once he turned upon her, maddened by the sweet, +half-confiding ring in her voice when she asked him why he was so +quiet, but the memory of his promise never to reproach her again +stopped him. With that came a sudden reckless determination to rid +himself of the whole thing by going away, at least temporarily, and +then he remembered that he really had some business affairs to attend +to in Atlanta. + +"I am going away awhile, Miss Harriet," he told her. + +"You are, really?" + +"Yes; I'm needed down in Atlanta for a while. I reckon I'll get back +in a few weeks." + +He saw her face change, but he did not read it correctly. At that +moment he could not have persuaded himself that she cared very much one +way or the other. Surely a girl who had, scarcely six weeks before, +sobbed in old Wambush's arms about her love for his son could not feel +anything deeply pertaining to another man whom she had known such a +short time. + +"Let's go back," he proposed, suddenly, and almost brutally. "I reckon +we've gone far enough. Night comes on mighty quick here in the valley." + +She raised her eyes to his in a half-frightened glance, and said: + +"Yes; let's go back." + +He turned his horse, and for fifteen minutes they drove along in +silence. There was now absolutely no pity in his heart. The vast +black problem of his own tortured love seemed to be soaking into him +from the very air about him. + +He broke the silence. + +"So you refused Bates?" + +She looked at him again. "How did you know that?" + +He laughed bitterly. + +"He told me so; he's another fool." + +"Mr. Westerfelt!" + +"I beg your pardon," he amended, quickly; "but any man is a fool to be +simply crazy about a woman, and he is." + +He saw her raise her little shapely hand to her twitching mouth and +experienced one instant's throbbing desire to catch it and hold it and +beg her to have mercy on him and help him throw off the hellish despair +that rested on him. It was a significant fact that she said nothing to +protract the conversation on the line of Bates's proposal. To her the +proposal and rejection of a king by her would have found no place in +her thoughts, facing the incomprehensible mood of the man she loved. +It was growing dark when they reached the hotel. As he aided her to +alight he gave her his hand. "It's good-bye for a while, anyway," he +said. + +She started; her hand was heavy and cold. She caught her breath. +"When are you going, Mr. Westerfelt?" + +"In the morning after breakfast, by the hack to Darley." + +That was all. She lowered her head and passed into the house. In the +hall she met her mother. + +"Great goodness, dear!" exclaimed the old woman; "what on earth did you +run away from him so sudden for?" + +Harriet pushed past her into the parlor and stood fumbling with the +buttons of her cloak. + +"Answer me, daughter," pursued Mrs. Floyd; "what did--" + +"Oh, God! don't bother me, mother," cried Harriet. + +Mrs. Floyd held her breath as she drew her daughter down on a sofa and +stared into her face. + +"What's the matter, daughter? _Do_ tell me." + +"He's going away," said Harriet. "Oh, mother, I don't know what ails +him! I never saw anybody act as he did. He had little to say, and +when he spoke it looked as if he was mad with me. Oh, mother, +sometimes I think he loves me, and then again--" + +"He _does_ love you," declared Mrs. Floyd. "I hid behind the curtains +in the parlor and watched him on the sly while he was waiting for you +to come down. I never saw a man show love plainer; he kept looking up +at your window, and his face fairly shone when you come out. You can't +fool me. He's in love, but he's trying to overcome it for--for some +reason or other. High-spirited men do that way, sometimes. Men don't +like to give up their liberty and settle down. But he'll come to time, +you see if he don't." + +Harriet stood up and started to the door. "Where are you going?" asked +her mother. + +"Up-stairs," sighed Harriet. "Mother, can you do without my help at +supper? I want to lie down and be alone." + +"Of course; I won't need you; everything is attended to, and Hettie +come while you was away. She fairly danced when she heard you had gone +to drive with Mr. Westerfelt. She hopes you will speak to him about +Toot. She's heard from him. He wants to come back home and marry her, +if Mr. Westerfelt can be persuaded to withdraw the charges. Do you +think he would, daughter?" + +"Oh, I don't know, mother!" Harriet slowly ascended the stairs to her +room, and Mrs. Floyd sat down in the darkening parlor to devise some +scheme; she finally concluded that Harriet was too much in love to +manage her own affairs, and that she would take them in hand. + +"He loves her, that's certain," she mused, "and he is a man who can be +managed if he is worked just right." She had evidently arrived at an +idea as to what should be done in the emergency, for she put on her +cloak and hat and went up to Harriet's room. The girl sat near the +bed, her head bent over to a pillow. + +"Daughter," Mrs. Floyd said, laying her hand on Harriet's head, "you +stay here, and don't come down-stairs to-night for all you do. I'm not +going to have people see you looking like that. It will set 'em to +talking, after you've been to ride with Mr. Westerfelt. Stay here; +I'll have Hettie fetch you something to eat." + +Harriet did not look up or reply, and Mrs. Floyd descended to the +street. + + + + +Chapter XXIII + +Westerfelt was in the yard back of the stable. He had just started +home when he saw a muffled figure enter the front door, and heard Mrs. +Floyd asking Washburn if he were in. + +"Here I am," he called out; and he approached her as she waited at the +door. + +"I want to see you a minute, Mr. Westerfelt," she said. "Can you walk +back a piece with me?" + +"Yes," he replied. "I'm going up to Bradley's to supper." + +Outside it was dark; only the lights from the fire in the store and the +big lamp on a post in front of the hotel pierced the gloom. A few +yards from the stable she turned and faced him. + +"Do you intend to kill my child?" she asked, harshly. + +"What do you mean?" he answered. + +"I mean that you will literally kill her--that's exactly what I mean. +You've treated her worse than a brute. What did you do to her this +evening? Tell me; I want to know. I have never seen her act so +before." + +He stopped, leaned against a fence, and stared at her. + +"I've done nothing; I--" + +"I know better. She fell in a dead faint as soon as she got to her +room. I undressed her an' put 'er to bed; but something is wrong. She +is out of her head, but she keeps moaning about you, and saying you are +going away. Are you?" + +"I thought of it, but I won't. I'll stay if--if you think I ought. +I'll do anything, Mrs. Floyd--anything you wish." + +"Well, don't go off. She'll not live a week if you do. Spare her--she +is all I have left on earth. Think, think how she has suffered. She +has not been well since the night she fainted in the blacksmith's shop +an' lay so long on the cold ground--that was all for your sake, too." + +"I know that, Mrs. Floyd," he said. "I'll stay. Tell her that--tell +her I'm coming to see her. Can I see her to-night?" + +The old woman hesitated. + +"No, she's--she's in bed; but I'll tell her what you said, though. It +will do her good. I'm glad I came to see you. I knew you loved her; +you couldn't help it. She has been so good to you, and no woman ever +loved a man more. When you are married you will both be happy. You'll +wonder then how you could be so silly." + +"I know I have been a fool." He took her hand and pressed it, almost +affectionately. "Take care of her, Mrs. Floyd; don't let her be sick." + +She turned to leave him. "She'll be well in the morning, I hope; don't +worry. She will get all right when she's had a rest and a night's +sleep. Now, let me walk on alone; the people talk so much in this +place." + +He stopped behind a clump of sycamore bushes and watched her disappear +in the gloom. He saw her when she went through the light at the store, +and again as she passed under the lamp at the hotel. He followed +slowly. He passed the hotel and looked into the wide hall, but saw no +one. + +A lane led from the street to an open lot behind the hotel. He +remembered that Harriet's room looked out that way, and, hardly knowing +why he did so, he walked down the lane till he could see her window. +There was a light in the room. For several minutes he stood gazing at +the window, feeling his feet sink into the marshy soil. He wondered +how he could pass the long hours of the night without speaking to her. +He had just resolved that he would go to the hotel and implore Mrs. +Floyd to let him see Harriet if only for a moment, when he noticed a +shadow on the wall of the room. It looked like some one sitting at a +table. He decided that it must be Mrs. Floyd watching by Harriet's +bed, and in imagination he saw the girl lying there white and +unconscious. Suddenly, however, the shadow disappeared. The figure +rose into the light and crossed the room. It was Harriet. She wore +the same gown she had worn an hour before. She stood for a moment in +the light, as if placing something on the mantel-piece, and then +resumed her seat at the table. The shadow was on the wall again. He +looked at it steadily for twenty minutes. His feet had sunk deeper +into the loam and felt wet and cold. Slowly he trudged back through +the lane. Mrs. Floyd had lied to him. The girl was not ill. At the +street corner he stopped. For an instant he was tempted to go to the +hotel and ask Mrs. Floyd if he could see Harriet for a moment, that he +might catch her in another lie, and then and there face her in it, but +he felt too sick at heart. Harriet had not swooned. Mrs. Floyd had +not undressed her and put her to bed. She had made up the story to +excite his sympathy and gain a point. He groaned as he started on +towards Bradley's. Mrs. Floyd had tried to get Bates to marry the +girl, and now was attempting the same thing with him. And why? + +At the gate of Bradley's house he stopped. Through the window he saw +Luke and his wife at supper. They had not waited for him. He would +not go in. He could not eat or talk to them. He wanted to be alone to +decide what course to pursue. He crossed the road and plunged into the +densest part of a pine forest. He came to a heap of pine-needles that +the wind had massed together, and sank down on it, hugged his knees to +his breast, and groaned. He wanted to tell his whole story to some +one--any one who would listen and advise him. He could not decide for +himself--his power of reasoning was gone. Suddenly he rose to his feet +and started up the mountain. Taking a short cut, he reached the +Hawkbill road, and, with rapid, swinging strides, began to climb the +mountain. + +As he got higher among the craggy peaks, that rose sombre and majestic +in the moonlight, the air grew more rarified and his breath came short. + +He could see the few lights of the village scattered here and there in +the dark valley, and hear the clangor of the cast-iron bell at the +little church. It was prayer-meeting night. + +After a while he left the main road, and without any reason at all for +so doing, he plunged into the tangle of laurel, rhododendron bushes, +vines, and briers. The soles of his shoes had become slick on the +pine-needles and heather, and he slipped and fell several times, but he +rose and struggled on. Then he saw the bare brown cliff of a great +canyon over the tops of the trees, and suddenly realizing the distance +he had come he turned and walked homeward. + +He found the Bradley house wrapped in darkness. He could hear Luke +snoring out to the gate. He went round the house to the back door. It +was unlocked, and he slipped in and gained his own room. Without +undressing he threw himself on the bed and tried to sleep, but the +attempt was vain. He lay awake all night, and when dawn broke he had +not yet decided whether he was going away or not. He really believed +he was losing his mind, but he did not care. He rose and sat at his +window. The sky along the eastern horizon was turning pale, and the +chickens were crowing and flapping their wings. He heard Bradley +lustily clearing his throat as he got out of bed. Later he heard him +in the kitchen making a fire. Westerfelt knew he would go out to the +barn-yard to feed and water his cattle and horses, and he wanted to +avoid him and his cheery morning greeting. Buttoning his coat round +his neck, he tip-toed from his room across the passage and went down +the street to the stable. + +One of the big sliding-doors had been pushed aside, and in the back +yard he saw Jake washing a buggy, and heard Washburn in one of the rear +stalls, rattling his currycomb and brush together as he groomed a +horse. He went into the office. The outer door was closed, and it +would have been dark there, but for Washburn's lighted lantern which +hung on a peg over the desk. He sat down at the desk and tried anew to +think. Presently he decided that he would go to Atlanta, and that he +would write a note to Mrs. Floyd, telling her of his change of plans. +He took up a sheet of paper and began the note, but was interrupted by +Washburn's step outside. He crumpled the paper in his hand, quickly +thrust it into his pocket, and pretended to be looking over the pages +of the ledger which lay open on the desk. + +"Hello!" Washburn stood in the doorway. "I didn't know you wus heer. +Anything gone wrong?" + +"No; why?" + +"It's a little early fer you, that's all." Washburn dropped his brush +and currycomb under the desk, and, full of concern, stood looking down +at him. + +"Thought I'd come down before breakfast" said Westerfelt. "How was +business yesterday?" + +"Good; nearly everything out, and it wus most all cash--very little +booked." + +"Wash?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"How much did I agree to pay you by the month?" + +"Thirty dollars." Washburn glanced at the open ledger. "Have I made +any mistake?" + +"No, but--but I've been making you do all the work. It isn't fair. +Credit yourself with forty dollars a month from the start and keep it +up." + +Washburn flushed. "I'm mighty much obliged, Mr. Westerfelt. I wusn't +complainin' as it wus." + +"I know it, but you are a good fellow; I'm going to trust the whole +business to you. Your judgment's as good as mine; do the best you can. +I'm going down to Atlanta for a few days--I don't know for how long, +but I will write you from there." + +"I'll do the best I can, Mr. Westerfelt, you kin be shore of that." + + + + +Chapter XXIV + +After breakfast, at Bradley's, Westerfelt went into his room and +hastily packed his valise and told Alf to take it to the stable and put +it into the hack going that morning to the station. Mrs. Bradley came +to him in the entry. + +"John Westerfelt, what's got into you?" she asked, looking at him with +concern. "Shorely you are not goin' off." + +"To Atlanta for a few days on business, that's all," he said; "I'll +write back from there." + +She looked at him curiously, as if not quite satisfied with his +explanation. "Well, hurry back," she said. "Me 'n' Luke'll miss you +mightily." + +"Tell Luke good-bye for me," he called back from the gate, and she +nodded to him from the hall, but he could not hear what she said. As +he approached the stable, he saw the hack waiting for him at the door. +Budd Ridly sat on the driver's seat. + +"Time we wus off," he remarked to Westerfelt. "It takes peert drivin' +to catch the two-forty, south-bound." + +"That's a fact," said Washburn, coming from the stable, "but I'll bet +you'll have to wait a few minutes, anyway." He was looking back in the +direction from whence Westerfelt had come. "I saw Miss Harriet come +out o' the hotel jest after you passed; it looks to me like she's +trying to overtake you." + +Westerfelt turned and saw Harriet about a hundred yards away. "Maybe +she is," he said. "I'll go meet her." + +She paused when she saw him approaching, and he noticed that she looked +greatly troubled and was quite pale. + +"I must see you, Mr. Westerfelt," she said, a catch in her voice. "I +came right at once so you wouldn't get left. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, +mother has just told me what she said to you last night. I don't know +what she did it for--I reckon she thought she was acting right--but I +cannot help her in deception of any kind. I was not sick last night." + +"I knew you were not," he said, and then he could think of nothing else +to say. + +"But mother said she told you I was, and that she left the impression +on your mind that it was because you were going off. That is not true, +Mr. Westerfelt. I cannot presume to dictate to you about what you +ought to do. Besides, it really seems a sensible thing for you to go. +She said you promised not to leave, but I can't have it that way." + +Something in the very firmness of her renunciation of him added weights +to his sinking spirits. + +"You think it would be best for me to go?" he managed to articulate. +"Oh, do you, Harriet?" + +"Yes, I do," she said, emphatically, after a little pause in which she +looked down at the ground. "I am only a girl, a poor weak girl, and +then--" raising her fine eyes steadily to his face--"I have _my_ pride, +too, you see, and it has never been so wounded before. If--if I had +not loved you as I have this would have been over between us long ago. +And then I excused you because you were sick and unjustly persecuted, +but you are well now, Mr. Westerfelt--well enough to know what's right +and just to a defenceless girl." + +There was now not a trace of color in his face, and he felt as if he +were turning to stone. He found himself absolutely unable to meet her +words with any of his own, but he had never been so completely her +slave. + +"You must answer me one question plainly," she continued, "and I want +the truth. Will you, Mr. Westerfelt?" + +"If I can I will, Harriet." + +"On your honor?" + +"Yes, on my honor." + +"Were you not leaving simply to--to get away from the--(oh, I don't +know how to say it)--the--because you did not want to be near me?" + +He shrank back; how was he to reply to such a pointed question? + +"On your word of honor, Mr. Westerfelt!" + +There was nothing for him to do but answer in the affirmative, but it +fired him with a desire to justify himself. "But it was not because I +don't love you, Harriet. On the other hand, it was because I do--so +much that the whole thing is simply driving me crazy. As God is my +judge, I worship you--I love you as no man ever loved a woman before. +But when I remember--" + +"I know what you are going to say," her lip curling in scorn, "and I +want to help you forget my misfortune. Perhaps you will when I tell +you that my feeling for you is dying a natural death, and it is dying +because I no longer respect you as I did." + +"Oh, God! don't--_don't_ say that, Harriet!" + +"But I'm only telling you the truth. I would not marry you--not if you +were the only man on earth--not if you were worth your weight in +gold--not if you got down on your knees and asked me a thousand times." + +"You would not, Harriet?" + +"Why should I? A girl wants a husband she can lean on and go to in +every trouble she has. You wouldn't fill the bill, Mr. Westerfelt. +Good gracious, no!" + +She turned back towards the hotel, and like a man with his intelligence +shaken from him by a superior force, he tried to keep at her side. In +silence they reached the steps of the hotel. + +"You'll miss that hack if you don't hurry," she said. "Besides, you've +acted as if this was a pest-house ever since mother and I nursed you +here and I made such a fool of myself." + +"Harriet, if you do not consent to be my wife I don't know what I shall +do. I want you--I want you. I love you, I can't do without you. +That's God's truth. If I hesitated it was only because I was driven +crazy with--" + +"It's a great pity about your love," she sneered; her eyes flashed, and +she snapped her fingers in his face, her breast rising and falling in +agitation. "Sweethearts may be hard to find, and husbands, too, but I +wouldn't marry you--you who have no more gentlemanly instincts than to +blame a girl for what happened when she was a helpless little baby." + +"What--what do you mean by that, Harriet?" he questioned, his eyes +opening wide. "I have never--" + +"You told me--or, at least, you showed it mighty plain--" she broke in, +"that it was because I was a foundling and never knew who my real +parents were that you have such a contempt for me." + +"Harriet, as God is my judge, I don't know what you're talking about. +You have never mentioned such a thing to me before." + +"Oh yes, I did," she was studying his startled face curiously, "or +rather you told me you knew about it--that you had heard of it." + +"But I had never heard of it--I never dreamed of it till this minute. +Besides that would not make a particle of difference to me. It would +only make me love you more--it _does_ make me love you more." + +Her face clouded over with perplexity. Somebody was coining down the +sidewalk, and she led him into the parlor. + +"Why, Mr. Westerfelt," she began again, "I--I don't know what to make +of you. It was one day when you were sick here, just after you asked +me to burn a letter you had got. I remember it distinctly." + +He started. "I was not alluding to that," he said. + +"Then what were you speaking of?" + +"Of Wambush, and all the rest. Oh, Harriet, I've tried so hard to +forget him and overcome my--" + +"What about him? Answer me; what about him?" + +"The letter I asked you to burn was not for me. It was from old +Wambush to Toot. In it he mentioned you, and how you helped Toot hide +that whiskey, and how you confessed your love and cried in the old +man's arms." + +"Mr. Westerfelt, are you _crazy_? Are you a raving maniac? I never +did anything like that. Toot Wambush was writing about Hettie +Fergusson. She is his sweetheart; she helped him hide the barrel of +whiskey in the kitchen. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, was that what you've been +thinking all this time?" + +A great joy had illuminated his face, and he grasped her hands and +clung to them. + +"Harriet, I see it all now; can you ever forgive me?" + +She did not answer, but hearing her mother's step in the hall she +called out, while she tightened her little fingers over his, "Mother, +come in here; come quick!" + +"What is it, darling?" asked the old woman, anxiously, as she entered +the room. + +"Oh, mother, he thought I was Hettie; he thought I loved Toot Wambush; +he says he doesn't care about the other thing one bit." + +"Well, I didn't see how he could," said Mrs. Floyd. "I didn't, really." + +"She hasn't said she will forgive me for thinking she was in love with +Wambush, and making such a fool of myself on account of the mistake," +said Westerfelt. "I wish you'd help me out, Mrs. Floyd." + +"I may not forgive you for thinking I could love such a man," answered +Harriet, "but I don't blame you a bit for the way you acted. I reckon +that was just jealousy, and that showed he cared for me; don't you +think so, mother?" + +"Yes, daughter, I always have believed that Mr. Westerfelt loved you. +And if I had had the management of this thing there wouldn't have been +such a long misunderstanding. Mr. Westerfelt, Hettie Fergusson is out +in the kitchen, just crazy to know if you will withdraw the charges +against Toot so that he can come back home." + +"I wouldn't prosecute that man," laughed Westerfelt, "not if he'd +killed my best friend. Tell her that, Mrs. Floyd." + +"Well, she'll be crazy to hear it, and I'll go tell her." She went +into the hall and quickly returned. "Will Washburn is in front and +wants to speak to you," she said. But Washburn came to the door +himself, an anxious look on his face. + +"The hack's still waitin' fer you, Mr. Westerfelt," he said. "What +must I do about it?" + +"Tell Ridly to go on without me," laughed Westerfelt. "And--Wash!" he +added. "Take all the money out of the cash drawer and go get blind +drunk. Shoot off all the guns you can find, and set the stable on +fire. Wash, shake hands! I'm the luckiest fellow on God's green +earth." + +Washburn was not dense, and he reddened as it occurred to him that his +reply ought to voice some sort of congratulations. + +"Ef I'm any jedge o' human natur' yo're both lucky," he stammered. +"Mr. Westerfelt is about the squarest man I ever struck an' would fight +a circular saw bare-handed, an' Miss Harriet, I'll sw'ar I jest can't +think o' nothin' good enough to say about you, except ef you hadn't +a-been all wool an' a yard wide Mr. Westerfelt wouldn't a-been so crazy +about you." Washburn laughed out suddenly, and added, "Some time I'll +tell you about how he used to do at night when he couldn't sleep, +especially after Bas' Bates got to cuttin' his patchin', an' buyin' +paper collars an' neckties." + +After Washburn had left they sat together on the sofa for several +minutes in silence. The pause was broken by Harriet. + +"I've been trying to make out what God meant by making us go through +all this--you through all your ups and downs, and me mine. Don't you +reckon it was so that He could make us feel just like we do now?" + +He nodded, but there was a lump of happiness in his throat that kept +him from speaking. + +"Well, I do," she said. "I used to think He hadn't treated me fair, +but I thank Him with all my heart for _all_ of it--_all_ of it. I +wouldn't alter a thing. I believe you love me, and I can't think of +anything else I could want. I believe you loved me even when you +thought I loved Toot Wambush, and if you did then, I know you will now +when I tell you I never loved any other man but you, and never even +allowed any other man even hold my hand." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WESTERFELT*** + + +******* This file should be named 17178.txt or 17178.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/1/7/17178 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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